#oh dear she lied what’s going on

[monicaalexandraaa]

Oh the next part is gonna start with a bang! I love it! This story makes me happy😌😌I love them all (except Kael)🩷🩷

Pucking Rookie III

Read Pucking Rookie here | ~8k words

From me: oops, more slow burn

Warnings: I have a feeling you will all be requesting a much FASTER update. Angst, fluff, shitty ex-boyfriend, the usual. Some violence which could b triggering. Please be kind to your mind.

Summary: Harry hates Kael. To be fair, most everyone hates him.

“Did y’bring your skates?” Harry asked. He was taking shots into the net for about an hour and a half at the time she had arrived. She was just a little over half an hour early to their practice. He paused to skate over to her. She was putting water bottles into place, clipboards, and other things that her uncle needed for a successful practice. Once everything was where it was supposed to be, she took her camera and took a practice shot of the ice behind Harry littered with pucks.

She frowned and looked away at her camera using it to divert his attention ever so slightly. Her cheeks turned the slightest shade of pink. “They’re in my car...”

Her unease wasn’t lost on Harry. “Do y’want t’go get them and I’ll help y’for a bit before practice?” He asked, leaning on his stick propped against the board.

She shook her head. “No thank you.”

He tilted his head at her. “C’mon, Rookie. You’re not going t’learn if y’don’t try.”

She sighed. “It’s not that... it’s just...” she looked up at him. “I’m still pretty embarrassed about it and I don’t want to do it here in front of everyone and everyone try to help...” She explained. “Like Uncle Charlie will give his two cents and honestly, I’ll be overwhelmed and I’m already nervous about it. The whole team watching would be even worse.”

Harry hadn’t really thought of that. But he wished he had because that meant that he could have a private lesson with her. One-on-one time with her was easily his new favorite thing. It happened a little more frequently since the night he followed her home. When he brought the used skates to her, she ordered pizza, and they played several rounds of Cribbage together. On a morning off from practice, he happened to be going by her place (of course going out of his way to be nearby) he did yoga with her before ordering breakfast to be delivered to her. Evenings where she worked at Louis’ he placed himself at his regular table and smiled at her as she came and went from kitchen to fluttering around the room waiting on everyone.

But on game days, whether they were home or away, she stayed her distance. He suspected she knew about his habits and his hookups. Which made him feel bad in a way he hadn’t worried about in ages. Harry was very comfortable with his sexuality. He liked having sex. He enjoyed making someone else come and yeah, he enjoyed that aspect for himself too.

But since he met the pretty photographer, he didn’t like it as much. Didn’t find it nearly as satisfying. Even though he wanted to.

Harry had a pond out behind his house. A pond that was very frozen in this chilly winter air. She hadn’t been to his place yet. Her pretty being all over his house seemed like a brilliant idea. It made him want her more.

Harry never wanted a girl the way he wanted her. For him it was always a one-night stand at their place, so he had the freedom to leave. They knew what they signed up for. But she invaded every little part of his mind. Thoughts of camera flashes and smiles. His picture on her fridge. The picture she texted him of herself that he saved as her contact photo. Her wearing Niall’s jersey. The cookies she made for her neighbors. Her rundown car. Her piece of shit ex.

“Would y’want t’come t’my place? I’ve got a pond out back.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea, Harry,” she admitted. Her voice was quiet, but she made direct eye contact with him. She always did, even if the conversation was difficult.

He frowned. “Why?” He asked.

“Because... you’re... you.”

“What’s that mean?” His eyebrows pulled forward as he tried to think through her logic before she said it.

“It means...” she looked at the ceiling like the answer would appear there. “I am not going to be seen with you at your place when you’ve never brought a girl home.”

He blinked. “How do y’know that?” She shrugged but busied herself with her camera taking pictures of the bench. She took Harry’s gloves from him and put them in a specific place. He felt utterly annoyed when he realized why she might have known. The frustration came over him before he could stop it. “Did your stupid ex tell you ‘bout m’reputation or something? Is that it? S’why y’don’t let me in fully? Y’think m’a piece of shit too?” He asked quietly. It sounded a little too accusing. He didn’t mean to. But it was unfair. Plus, he thought they were friends. The kind of friends like he was with Niall.

Because honestly, Harry didn’t think he could be good enough for her. Maybe he was projecting what he felt. She deserved a good boyfriend who would be able to devote all his time to her. She didn’t deserve someone that got a crummy five months to be in a relationship who had to worry allthe time about him because he had never had a steady girlfriend before.

She brought the camera from her face down to rest against her stomach on the strap around her neck. Once more, she looked him straight on. It was intoxicating. Brave. Beautiful, of course, always.

“I don’t think you’re a piece of shit, Harry Styles,” she said very clearly.

He blinked. “You don’t?”

“Why would I think that? Because you sleep with women who clearly want to sleep with you? You’re entitled to whatever you want with whomever you want as long as they fully consent, Harry. I don’t really give a shit. I just refuse to date a hockey player because an actual piece of shit cheated on me for who knows how long which I did not consent to. It’s obvious you’re charming, talented, intelligent, and very handsome,” she paused briefly, took a deep breath. “Any girl would be lucky to have you, Harry Styles. I just won’t be her.”

She brought her camera back to her face. She seemed unaffected by his stunned expression. He swallowed and it felt like a rock was in his throat. “That was an awful lot of compliments, Bunny,” he hummed. She continued taking pictures, but Harry saw the way her cheeks turned another shade of red under his gaze. He leaned closer towards her. “You think m’handsome?” he teased.

“A blind person would know you’re handsome, Harry. Don’t be a dick about it.”

“Charming?”

“Are you getting off on this or something? Is your ego not big enough?”

“I just didn’t know you thought that ‘bout me. I thought y’jus’ kinda tolerated me and m’overbearing presence.”

She rolled her eyes. “Why would I hate you?”

“No reason.”

But he answered too quickly. It was the reason that hung in the air over and over. She turned from her camera and caught his gaze again. “You’re nothing like Kael, Harry. I’m sorry if I’ve ever made you feel that you were,” her voice was extremely gentle, like she was speaking to someone with a baby napping in the room. It made him feel all over. Every cell in his body vibrating with emotion.

The breath he released was more relieved than when he found out he was being drafted to the Chargers. Harry wanted her all over his house. Wanted her in his room and not even for sexual reasons. He just wanted to see her there after any game. Wanted her to wear his jersey. Teach her to skate better. Hang any of her photographs in his house like a museum paying tribute to her talent. More than that he wanted pictures of her in his house—so many pictures of her.

*

On nights when the team had curfew because of early morning practice or a game the next day, she did not of course. Harry broke curfew almost every single day after learning where she lived. He asked her to move in almost every time he followed her home ensuring she got home safely in her crappy car.

You shouldn’t break curfew. You’ll get a big fine. Marc and Michael keep an eye on my arrival.

It’s fine. I have the money.

Harry was territorial about her and especially her safety.

Look, I don’t want to be weird, but we’re friends... Evander said you... had plans tonight with someone...

Harry wanted to kill his teammate. Who? He tried for the funny remark so he wouldn’t lose his fucking mind at the thought of her thinking about his late night hook up.

You’re ridiculous.

Making sure you get home safe is more important than having an orgasm.

...

Sorry, FRIEND. Thought we could talk about orgasms.

R I D I C U L O U S

😇

Go puck yourself Harry.

God, you’re hilarious Rookie.

Good night, Harry. Thanks for worrying about me. It’s... actually kind of nice.

Yeah, of course. Good night, Rookie.

Harry didn’t have plans that night. Not unless pining over his coach’s niece in the privacy of his own bed was a plan.

*

Charlie was currently taking his anger out on the guys, which was extremely unfair because they had no idea it was because of her. She wished she could have been surprised. Instead, she quietly took pictures, feeling bad for their poor lungs. They were breathing hard and heavy as they struggled with the conditioning drill.

“Five minutes!” Charlie snarled.

They all collapsed on the ice in their spots. Players on the bench were slumped and moaning in pain and they were already on a rest. She glared at her uncle holding two six-pack water bottle carriers as she stepped onto the ice. She nearly slipped twice. Harry didn’t even move to help her, which meant they were in really tough shape.

“Thanks Sweetheart,” Asher heaved.

“Coach, is something wrong?” Niall asked, chugging his water. Off to the side of the rink Callie was throwing up into a trash can. A quiet ‘pussy’ came from an equally green-looking Lang. Only Niall could get away with asking because he was the nice one of the group. But even still, Uncle Charlie silenced him with a glare.

“He’s mad at me and taking it out on you,” she rolled her eyes. “I’m sorry guys. Uncle Charlie, can you stop punishing all hockey players on my behalf?”

“Sweetheart, don’t,” he shook his head once paying no mind to the team that was half dead on the ice before him.

She sighed heavily. “You’re being mean, Uncle Charlie. It’s not their fault!”

“It’s the reputation they’ve given the game,” Coach Wheeler agreed.

“What reputation?”

“Uncle Charlie is mad he picked me up from my apartment. He’s not keen on where I live.”

“It looks like a meth lab.”

“My apartment is not a meth lab.”

“You have a drug dealer living on the first floor.”

“Michael is super nice! He watches my car and—”

“Jesus,” Niall murmured. “Sweetheart—”

“Don’t even bother, Horan. I tried everything. She is insistent, she doesn’t want a single hand out from anybody. Which is why you’re all paying the price. What kind of asshole makes someone as sweet as her—”

“Uncle Charlie, can we not air my relationship out in front of the whole team?”

“If we’re doing suicide sprints because of fucking Kael Crowe I want to be moved to the Lightning,” Callie groaned referring to the minor team affiliated with the Chargers. “What the hell, Coach!? Take it up with Crowe!”

Exhausted agreements resounded from the ground. “You all better treat women with respect. There is zero tolerance for it,” Coach Wheeler grumbled.

“Sweetheart, do something please,” Lang begged standing to where Callie was previously, vomiting promptly into the trash.

“Uncle Charlie, can you cut them a break? They didn’t cheat on me.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Asher moaned. “Permission to cross-check when we play him?”

“Permission granted,” Uncle Charlie shrugged.

“Jesus,” she sighed and rubbed her forehead. Harry was still breathing hard, but surprisingly didn’t say anything. She was certain he would have something to say about Kael or her stupid choice. Everyone seemed to.

“First one’ll be for you, Sweetheart. Second one’s for me,” Asher winked.

“Why’d he pick y’up?” Harry asked quietly. It was interesting, it was the first thing he said after all the time spent trying to remember how to breathe. It was like he already knew the answer. He also didn’t rat her out for knowing beforehand about where she lived. Although she suspected he knew the punishment would be far worse if Charlie found out that Harry knew where she lived and said nothing.

“Car wouldn’t start,” she shrugged handing him a bottle of water. “It’s a piece of shit, but it’s all I can afford,” she admitted quietly. The conversation was just for the two of them. “I’m on a budget,” she reminded him.

Harry liked how open she was with him. When she told him and Niall that she couldn’t skate and that she got nervous about it, it was vulnerable in a way he didn’t expect. He liked how she said she wouldn’t date him (even though it broke a piece of him) and still managed to compliment him. Each time she mentioned she wasn’t swimming in cash made him feel like she trusted him. He thought of her cold apartment, her used skates, and her broken down car.

It was a shame she wasn’t going to like him as much after her next comment.

“Coach, if I let her borrow one of my cars while hers is in the shop, can we call practice early? I’ll drive her to and from games. Won’t let her out of my sight until she’s safely in the building.”

“I’m not convinced it’s a safe building.”

“Jesus Christ, Sweetheart, where are you living?” Niall sighed.

When Coach said the name of the building and the street just into the bad side of town, everyone moaned again. She shrugged. “It’s fine. It’s the right price and no one bothers me. I use you all as a threat.”

“Oh, for the love of God,” Callie groaned. “Coach, we’ll take shifts, anything. Make it stop,” he begged. Lang returned from throwing up in the trash can and took water from her.

“I don’t need shifts of you guys watching me,” she rolled her eyes. “No one bugs me, they know I work for the team and that I could have twenty scary hockey players there in a matter of minutes.”

Harry smirked. It was obvious he liked the sound of that. “Coach?” Harry prompted.

“Harry, I’m not taking your car, for God’s sake!”

“Oh you don’t have a choice, Sweetheart,” he snorted.

“Uncle Charlie! You’re not getting one of your players to babysit me!”

“Then you’re responsible for their lungs bursting.”

She pouted, glared at her uncle, and marched off the ice. Snagging her camera from the bench as she did. It was childish, petty, and made her look like an idiot, but she was too mad to care. Harry sighed. “Coach, she’s a grown woman... y’could have at least asked her if she was okay with that...” Harry reminded him. Charlie leveled Harry with a stare.

“She’s the best person I know,” Charlie explained. “That piece of shit Crowe never deserved her. It kills the whole family that she doesn’t see her own worth. We watched her take care of him and put her life on hold for him. She doesn’t let people take care of her. Maybe because she doesn’t know how,” he shrugged. “So if she needs tough love to do that, then so be it.”

Harry followed her off the ice. He walked slightly awkwardly on his skates but found her outside one of the offices sitting on a bench, putting her items away in her bag. “You’re not giving me your car,” she grumbled.

“Rookie,” he sighed.

“I don’t need you saving me! This is just like when you yelled at Kael.”

He rubbed the back of his head. “We’re friends, right?”

She glanced at him. “...yes,” she said tentatively.

“Y’know how y’always worry ‘bout me drinking water? Making sure I eat dinner? Texting me t’make sure I get home after following y’home?” She didn’t look at him and fiddled with the laces of her boots. “Y’can ignore me all you want, but s’what friends do. We care ‘bout you and want t’do all the nice things y’do for us.”

It looked like she was piecing together what he was saying. But not fully wanting to accept it. “You’re really going to let me borrow your car?”

He smiled.

“I guess I could... have a skating lesson... assuming your car is at your house?”

Somehow, he managed to smile wider. “Yeah, Rookie? Great... I’ll go change and tell Coach. Be out in a minute.”

“Don’t be weird about it, Harry. I don’t want anyone to think you’re my favorite. Because you’re not.”

He chuckled. “Sure thing, Rookie.”

*

Harry hurried to her side of the car and opened the door when they arrived at his house. She grabbed her stuff from the back—it was everything she had to pull out of her car and toss into her uncle’s when he picked her up. Harry grabbed his duffle bag, as well as a small bag of groceries of items she needed to make the hot chocolate she promised after the skating lesson. “M’gonna put this stuff away and sharpen your skates,” he said holding the pair by the laces tied together as he opened the door. “Here’s the key if y’want t’throw your stuff in the car,” he grabbed it off the hook near the doorway and then headed further into the house. With the key in hand, she headed back outside and unlocked an extravagant car she would never be able to afford. Sighing, she put her stuff in the trunk, locked it, and headed back toward the equally luxurious house.

To be fair, it wasn’t a mansion. It was a nice home. It was clear Harry took great care of it—or paid people to take great care of it. Following the sound of something scraping against the blade, she found Harry in his kitchen, sitting on a breakfast bar stool at the island. The kitchen was stunning. Marble countertops, white backsplash, black hanging light fixtures, white cabinets with black hardware. There were green curtains in the window. The appliances were all black. It belonged in a magazine. It was practically pristine.

The only thing she found interesting was Harry’s sink was filled with dishes. The dishwasher looked clean, it was open and completely full as well. How many dishes did a person living by themself have? She spun the key on her finger as she approached him, setting it on the counter. “When’s your birthday?” He asked randomly.

“February eleventh,” she blinked.

Harry smiled that really beautiful way of his. The one that made the dips in his cheeks deepen. His eyes seemed brighter. “S’near mine.”

“I know.”

“You keeping track of me Rookie?” He was full-on beaming.

“No, but I added everyone’s birthday to my calendar after Ray’s. Figured I would make treats if I had the time,” she explained. “I remembered yours because it’s in February like mine.”

“Can’t y’jus’ let me believe y’like me?”

She ignored him. “How do you do it?” She asked pointing to the skate.

He held the little tool out to her—a little rectangle with a space for the blade to slide between. “They don’t sell skates unsharpened, even used ones. So they’re already pretty good, but I feel better doing it myself. I wouldn’t want t’put y’on skates I haven’t ensured were good to go,” he explained and waited until she lined up the blade with the tool. “Jus’ stroke the blade in the same direction a few times. You’ll feel a little resistance. S’how y’know it’s working. The duller the blade the more resistance you’ll feel.”

“Like this?” She asked making sure she didn’t mess up her new skates.

“Yup, that’s good,” he monitored the motion.

“Thank you,” she murmured quietly.

“Course, Rookie. S’what friends are for,” he shrugged simply.

But it wasn’t that simple. Kael would never sharpen her skates for her. Wouldn’t even offer. It’s why she basically stopped skating—didn’t bother to continue because he didn’t care. He never asked if he could help teach her. There was no way he would willingly give his car to her either or offer to follow her home from a game. Most of the time they were at the same arena he didn’t go home with her. In case he wanted to go out with friends.

She felt the emotion building in her throat because she knew Harry had plenty of options. But she didn’t want to be an option. It wasn’t Harry’s fault. Honestly, it wasn’t anyone’s fault. It just wasn’t... the right time. She was too broken and fucked from her ex. Harry was too talented and charming to deal with a steady girlfriend and he shouldn’t have to. He was young, handsome, and had ample time in his career and life to have fun before he settled down.

“Ready?” He asked interrupting her sad thoughts. Harry was sweet—really sweet. The kind of sweet she always wanted Kael to be. She shook her head to rid herself of thoughts of how nice it would be to be Harry Styles’ girlfriend. It wasn’t going to happen. He replaced the guards on her blades. “Pond’s out back,” he told her gesturing to the back slider that led to a porch.

“Your house is beautiful,” she told him.

“Thanks, Rookie, love,” he smiled. “Mum was insistent it be my first investment,” he explained.

“Smart lady.”

“The very best,” he affirmed.

Nope, she wasn’t going to fall for a man who was kind and adored his mother. Not one bit.

The back deck overlooked a decent sized yard, but it was the pond that was by far the feature of it. She could picture beautiful sunsets, and she wished she brought her camera with her. There was a layer of light snow on the ground, the bare branches. It was like a Christmas movie scene. It left her a little breathless and Harry paid no attention to it. Totally used to the beauty of his own yard.

“Y’okay?” He asked over his shoulder. He noticed her pause as he continued walking toward the little pond. Harry kicked his boots off and put on his skates while sitting on a little wooden bench. They weren’t the pair he wore at the rink. These looked a little more worn in and scuffed. Well-loved, was the best description. He laced them quickly and expertly. It must have been second nature to him. With the guards still on his blades, he stood in front of her. “Put these on,” he handed her a pair of socks from his sweatshirt pocket. They weren’t the ones he bought her, which meant they were either his or another set he had bought her just for the occasion.

Nope. Not falling in love with him. Not at all.

“Your backyard is beautiful,” she said. “I wish I had my camera.” She untied her boots and stuck her feet in the skates. Almost immediately, Harry carefully hoisted her left skate between his thighs. He held her foot in her new-used skate (with the guard still in place) and tied the laces tightly.

“I can grab it after the lesson,” he offered and worked on the laces. “S’that feel good?” He asked. “Or is it too tight?”

“No, I don’t like my ankle to move.”

He chuckled. “Y’want it t’move a little, Rookie.”

She shrugged while he tied the other skate. Once done, he pulled the guards off and held his hands out for her to take. She took a deep breath and tried not to think about how large Harry’s hands were and wrapped around hers so easily. They were warm and comforting. He bent and took his own skate guards off. “I know y’can skate a little, so I don’t want t’push you,” he headed for the ice. “Jus’ do what feels comfortable.”

She barely skated at the rink. Skating on a pond seemed like a bad idea. Sitting on that little bench watching Harry? Maybe taking pictures of him as she did? That seemed like a good idea. Comfortable, to his point. “Is the pond deep?” She asked tentatively.

He frowned and waited at the very edge as she stood just off the ice. “Bunny,” he hummed gently. “I would never let y’get hurt, so no,” he promised. “S’not deep. S’very safe,” he assured her. “C’mon,” he held his hand out. Tentatively, she took it. Fortunately, she was used to him holding her elbow while she walked or skated around.

“Harry, I really don’t want to embarrass myself,” she warned.

“M’not going t’make fun of you, Bunny,” his voice didn’t have any teasing in it. Harry was dressed in a pair of black pants and a gray sweatshirt. He looked cozy and pretty as always. His voice was too soft and made her feel safe. Which wasn’t a bad thing except for her heart. “Jus’... take little steps. M’not going t’let you fall.”

It was becoming increasingly clear that it was too late for that.

She listened, taking small steps. Harry skated backwards while facing her, holding his hands out for comfort but not holding onto her. “You’re leaning too far forward, Rookie. Y’want t’keep your weight over your skates while y’step. S’going t’change a bit when y'take your steps but s’what you’re trying to maintain,” he explained. He watched her feet as she adjusted to what he said. “Don’t stare at your feet,” he offered kindly. “I know s’hard, but it’s tough on the balance,” they glided silently for a few minutes. “Y’okay,?” he asked glancing at her face. She nodded. He smiled gently. “Okay,” he took hold of her hands again and tugged her gently. “When y’stop, just tilt your foot inward just a little,” he used his own feet to demonstrate. “You’re doing great, Rookie,” he promised. “Feel easier on the figure skates?”

She nodded. “Yeah, it’s definitely easier to balance.”

He grinned, excitement covering his features and all she had done was take fifteen little steps or so. “Okay let’s keep going. We’re jus’ going t’focus on keeping y’comfortable today. Getting used to the balance and stopping,” he continued facing her and skating backwards as he pulled her.

“How do you skate backwards?” She asked.

“You gotta walk before y’can run, Rookie,” he chuckled knowingly. She rolled her eyes.

“I meant you, Harry.”

He shrugged. “I’ve been skating m’whole life.”

“Since you were three and before you could walk?” Most every hockey player she knew had the same story. Skating was more important than walking. It was romantic in a way. A first love of sorts. Harry seemed no different in that respect.

He nodded with a shy grin. “Something like that.”

“You’re very graceful.”

“You’re so forthcoming with the compliments today, Bunny. S’nice,” he pulled her toward him. She wasn’t really skating since Harry was just guiding her, but it felt nice to be on the ice without fear of making a fool of herself. “Try stopping.”

“I’m supposed to be skating not stopping Harry.” He smirked and looked at her pointedly. So she executed her little stop and Harry’s smile brightened.

“Lovely, Rookie. Do you want t’try on your own?”

“Sure,” she sighed feeling defeated before starting but it was the only way she’d get better. Harry let go of her hands but stayed the same distance from her (which was no more than five inches away). She took little steps moving at a glacial pace. She really wondered how she could have been using the wrong skates for so long. It felt so much safer and easier to be on the figure skates than it ever had been on hockey skates.

“You’re doing great, Rookie,” he assured her. She felt embarrassed because she was in her late twenties and Harry was treating her like a child. Not his doing, though. It was in her head it felt that way.

But they skated for a while quietly, just listening to the gentle cutting of the blades on the ice. Harry put his hands out just in front of him as a gentle reminder he was there, letting her have the comfort of grabbing him if she needed.

Naturally, her toe hit a divot in the ice at that moment which made her lose her footing. Harry snagged around her waist quickly to keep her upright. “Whoops,” the entire front of his body was pressed to hers. “Y’okay?” She nodded, not wanting to think about how nice Harry was and how warm his body felt. She pulled away as quickly as she could once she regained her footing. “The ice doesn’t get resurfaced like the rink,” he admitted shyly. Like it was his fault.

“You don’t own a Zamboni?” She gaped. “I can’t believe it!”

He chuckled, moving away from her slightly. She couldn’t believe how much colder it felt even though he only held her for no more than forty seconds. “Do y’want t’keep skating?” He asked.

“Yes,” she nodded. Because honestly? She didn’t want to leave just yet.

*

Eventually, they got off his little ice rink. She didn’t fall thanks to Harry catching her two more times around the waist. Each time she sent an electric current right through her heart. He was gentle, kind, and encouraging. Imagining him doing the same thing with his baby niece made her ovaries ache so much she had to think about anything else.

“Did you have a dinner party?” she asked pointing to his sink.

“No,” he sighed. “I jus’ hate dishes,” he shook his head.

“Do you want—”

“Don’t you dare,” he glared at her and headed down the hall toward another room. She smiled and shook her head.

“I don’t know how I’m supposed to make hot chocolate with a mess in the sink,” she called.

“Don’t make it then!” He sounded far away. She couldn’t believe he stayed at her tiny little apartment when she could hardly hear him from a few rooms away. “We can go out t’get some or we y’can jus’ stuff from the dishwasher, Rookie. But don’t touch the sink!”

She rolled her eyes and shifted, through the clean dishes, pulling a sauce pan from it. Harry returned with a bag. “Can you get me chocolate chips, sugar, and cocoa powder? I don’t want to dig through your cabinets—what’s that?”

He looked at her pointedly. “Y’can go through the cabinets,” he shrugged. But it was starting to feel a little too domestic. Now they were at Harry’s house which meant she was done for. At least when they were at her place, she wasn’t subject to the overwhelmingly intoxicating scent of Harry. He found the ingredients and placed them on the counter. “Open it,” he shrugged.

It was a large bag from the pro shop at the arena. She peered in and then looked up at him. “Harry.”

“S’not a big deal, Rookie. Don’t make it a big deal,” he suggested. “What do y’need for whipped cream?”

Inside the bag were jerseys. Langford, Calloway, Asher, and Styles. Her heart felt too warm. Her eyes stung a bit over the thoughtfulness yet again. Skates, jerseys, socks. Harry was too sweet. He wasn’t fighting fair. “Sugar, vanilla, and heavy whipping cream...” she mumbled. Swallowing the emotion she felt, she opted for a joke. “No Horan?”

“He already got his turn,” he grumbled slightly bitter.

She looked at the jersey brushing her fingers over his last name. “It’s too much, Harry.”

“I get a discount,” he shrugged. “On behalf of the team, throw out all your Glacier Wolves stuff,” he grabbed the next set of ingredients and eyed her from across the kitchen island. “What?”

“Even the sweatshirt I’ve worn so much I’ve got it to maximum comfort?” He pressed his mouth into a line and stared at her pointedly. “Alright I’ll throw it out, you’re so bossy.”

He smirked and turned to the stove, turning the dial to light the burner. “Okay Rookie, time for my lesson. Show me how t’make hot chocolate.”

*

It felt like Harry was becoming her very best friend, which scared her. Kael took up so much of her life it left her very little room for friends. The friends she did have... ended up not liking her and talking behind her back. “Hey Rookie,” Harry smiled entering the locker room to drop his stuff for game day photos. “Ugh,” he sighed looking at her jersey and the smile melted.

“Hi, Harry,” she waved with an impish grin.

“Hi Sweetheart,” Asher greeted. “You look beautiful today,” he cooed.

“Shut the fuck up, Asher!” Harry yelled from the other side of the door. Asher winked at her and headed inside the locker room.

“He’s so jealous,” Callie shook his head. She smiled, shook her head, but she could feel her cheeks heating up with color. “Nice jersey, Sweetheart!” He shouted, no doubt enjoying his number on her this time. Only she knew that Callie would be more extra about it than Niall ever could be.

“You can shut the fuck up too,” Harry growled from near the door.

“He must not think I look beautiful,” she laughed quietly.

“Oh Jesus,” Lang snorted filing inside.

“What did she say?” Harry asked.

“Nothing,” Lang chuckled.

“Those are fighting words, Sweetheart,” Niall chuckled heading in after his team.

After the game day pictures were posted to the appropriate social media outlets, she headed inside the arena. She filed down to her spot near the other media. She smiled and waved to people she had been chatting with regularly. They all greeted her as if she was a real media presence and not just the coach’s niece with a camera.

She took a few pictures of the empty ice adding it to her mental portfolio of this sports series she was looking to do. It was peaceful for a moment, the images forming in sequence, her ideal lighting. The way everything would come together to tell a story. It was something she was really excited about—

“Hey, baby.”

She didn’t turn immediately. Surely, she misheard. Her body felt a wave of anxiety run over it. She didn’t flinch, didn’t turn. For several seconds, she focused on her breathing and nothing else. A minute. She just needed a minute to collect herself. Turning slowly, she smiled politely.

“Kael.” His feet were on top of the seat in front of him. Some of his teammates were milling behind, a few rows back of him. He looked relaxed and uncaring of how fucked up it was that he was there. Coming up to her while she was alone. “You guys are in town early,” she stated.

He nodded, standing up and heading to her. She busied herself by inspecting her pictures making sure they looked okay on the screen. Her hands were shaking. Not because she was worried about what Kael might do but because she was angry. Kael was her least favorite person and he made her uneasy because of all the fucked-up things she let him do to her. “Nice jersey. Sleeping with Calloway?” He asked, sweeping his hand across the top of her back. It made her want to crawl out of her skin.

“No,” she clenched her jaw. She wanted to leave as little to the conversation as possible. But she couldn’t. Because Kael didn’t own any part of her privacy anymore. Part of her wished she was sleeping with Callie if only to rub it in his face. But she couldn’t pretend that any more than she could say she didn’t have a crush on Harry. “Not that it’s any of your business.”

“Right, sure...” he smiled slowly. “You look beautiful, baby. Even in an ugly jersey.”

She loved this jersey so much. The only jersey she would love to wear more than Callie’s, was Harry’s. Not that she would ever say that. “What can I say, orange and blue just wasn’t my color,” she shrugged. “And Kael? Stop calling me baby.”

He put his hands up. “Just wanted to say hi... I’m in the area today... tomorrow and the following day, too... thought you might want to catch up.”

“Sweetheart!” Uncle Charlie called.

She turned looking at her uncle, Ray, Callie, Niall, and a couple of the younger players staring at her from across the ice. “That’s my cue,” she said making her way back the way she came.

“You work for the team?” He asked, surprise evident in his voice.

“Yup.”

“Good old Uncle Charlie helped you out?” He wondered.

“Uh-huh.”

She walked around the edge of the ice noting every pair of eyes of The Chargers following her.

Kael followed her as well. “Do you want to get dinner, love?” He asked.

“I have to work tonight; thanks though,” she said over her shoulder wishing she could have cut across the ice. It would have been nice if she could have shown him that she could skate a bit now.

No thanks to him.

“What about tomorrow after the game?”

“Working again,” she shrugged.

“Lunch?”

“Busy.”

She was much closer now to her uncle and the guys. Their gazes felt warm on her, so she looked at her camera as she walked.

“C’mon, baby. You’re the one that wanted to talk.”

“To get my stuff back, Kael,” she sighed without looking at him. God she wanted to be done with the conversation. Why couldn’t he take a hint?

“Technically it’s my stuff.”

Ugh. That would do it. She spun on her heel. He was right behind her so now they stood only inches apart. This was the guy she seriously saw herself marrying because they had been together for so long. She was going to have children with him. So many days and nights spent at his arena wearing ugly orange and blue. Taking care of his every need and not asking for anything in return. All the other things that she didn’t even want to think about let alone speak into existence. Putting her life on hold for him because he deemed himself more important than her hobby. Now, he was going to continue holding her stuff hostage? Just for some weird power trip?

No. Not anymore.

“I don’t want anything you bought me, Kael,” her tone was biting. Teeth clenched. “I want my stuff back.”

He snorted. “Then go to lunch with me, baby,” he grinned sweetly.

“Hey Kael, we need her for pre-game pictures,” Charlie came up behind her putting a hand on her shoulder gently. She shrugged it off, she was independent, goddammit. She didn’t need her uncle or a hockey team to defend her in front of Kael. He already thought she was weak. She didn’t need to prove him right.

“I am not negotiating for my stuff,” she told him, her tone still angry.

“Sweetheart,” Charlie grabbed her shoulder a little more securely.

“Hey Charlie, sorry. Just trying to catch up with our girl here,” he smiled charmingly at her uncle. She rolled her eyes and marched around Charlie, toward the tunnel back to the locker room. “Tell Callie he’s a lucky man, baby,” he shouted.

“Fuck you Crowe!” Callie was immediately moving toward him as she pushed past. “You’re a piece of trash!”

“Hey!” Ray yelled. The other players yanked him back and away from one person who could fuck up the simplest of things with just a couple words. Kael smiled walking back the way he came. Like he didn’t cause a scene or anything.

*

Callie got three penalties in the first period. Lang had to talk him down because he wanted four. But that would have been bad for the team, and they weren’t even playing Kael.

Harry was fuming, bouncing his knee as he sat seated in front of his locker. “I hate that stupid prick,” Callie growled. She was seated on a chair outside the locker room looking at her camera. It didn’t seem to bother her much that Kael was around. Or maybe she was just continuing to be brave. It was kind of hot the way she stood up to him outside the ice rink. He wished he had known. He would have loved to have punched Kael. He was lucky Harry didn’t hear until he heard Callie yelling.

They lost the game one to nothing. No one blamed Callie because the goal wasn’t even during his penalties nor when he was on the ice. “I can’t wait for the game tomorrow,” Asher sighed. “Still allowed to cross-check?” He asked looking at Charlie and Ray.

Ray shrugged. “If you must.”

Harry wanted to strangle him. The moment he heard one of the younger players say Crowe’s name, he wanted to run to her, shove her behind him, and punch his stupid fucking face. “Harry?” Niall asked quietly from beside him.

“Yeah?”

“You good?” He asked.

“Yup,” he nodded.

“Look, he’s just trying to get a rise out of her,” he explained. “Maybe you.”

“He doesn’t know I like her,” he mumbled.

“You do like her?” Niall chuckled. “I knew it.”

He rolled his eyes. “Shut up.”

“Everyone decent?” Her voice called.

Harry perked up hearing the voice of the sweet girl he was falling for rapidly by the second. She entered holding a hand over her eyes. “You’re good, Sweetheart,” Lang assured her.

“Bummer,” she muttered dropping her hand. Harry smirked despite how mad he was as a quiet chuckle sounded throughout the room.

“Gross, Sweetheart. They’re my players,” Charlie shook his head.

“Well, you and I have the same taste in men then, Uncle Charlie.”

Another round of laughter. “You okay?” Charlie asked leaning against his office door.

Harry was staring, Niall beside him staring as well. The whole team was watching to be fair. “Yeah... he was just... hovering, signing autographs and stuff...”

“Fuck him,” Callie growled. She glanced at him briefly. Harry wanted to kill him for getting her attention today in the form of his jersey on her. It shouldn’t have been such a concern for Harry, but it was. He liked her so much and it was so unfair he wasn’t good enough for her. At least he was the one that bought the jersey for her.

“It’s not a big deal,” she shrugged looking anywhere but someone else’s eyes.

But it was a big deal, Harry was fuming in his seat. His leg still bouncing.

“What did he say to you?”

“Nothing,” she shook her head.

“Sweetheart, if—”

“Can someone walk me to my car?” She asked.

“I can!” Callie chirped.

She frowned. “Callie, really, any other day. But... with the jersey—”

He frowned. “I hate Crowe.”

“Join the club,” Charlie said.

She sighed. “I’ll walk you out,” Harry quickly tossed a sweatshirt over his practice shirt and a pair of sweats on over his compression shorts.

They didn’t speak as they walked to her car. Harry’s car. She put her belongings in the back seat. “I took the night off. I’m pretty exhausted,” she told Harry leaning against the driver door. “So you don’t have to worry about me.”

But he did. Because it seemed to be the only thing he did. “Oh. S’nice,” he murmured. “Are you… do y’want company or are y’jus’ going t’bed?”

“Probably just bed,” her voice was tired. “Maybe Marc and I will watch a game so he can study.”

At least there was one man in her life he didn’t have to be jealous of. “Well, we have an early curfew anyway,” he mumbled. “Do y’want me t’follow y’home?”

She shook her head. “No. Thank you.”

“Anytime, Rookie,” he gave her arm a squeeze. “Let me know when you’re home,” Harry ushered her into the car and let her go on her way. He headed back for the arena feeling fairly defeated. But at least she was safe.

*

Eliana lived close by and expected very little of Harry. She was a nice person. She was a nurse at a local hospital and had hours that lined up with Harry’s every so often.

Harry was a fucking mess.

“Are you okay?” She asked

No. He wasn’t. He wanted the pretty photographer. Wanted to know she was home safe. Wanted to go to her apartment and wake Michael and Marc up and murder them for not protecting her when they said they would. Even though she was in all reality probably fine.

“Sorry,” he murmured. “I’m gonna go,” he rubbed the back of his head awkwardly. “It’s not you.”

She smirked. “I didn’t think so, Harry. I hope you’re alright.”

 “Jury’s out.”

She rolled her eyes, pulled the covers up to her neck. “Just lock behind you please.”

Harry tried calling her. Not even caring how ridiculous he was. He was past the point of caring. He couldn’t even sleep with someone else, and he’d done nothing more than hold her hands or her elbow. He refrained from cuddling her at their sleepover beyond feeling the heat of her body while she slept.

Harry had called her every hour since he walked her to her car. Hopefully she was just asleep. She did say she was exhausted. Maybe if he drove by and saw her car, he would feel better?

Taking a deep breath, he shook his head. He couldn’t follow her like that. It was different that first time. He never intended to follow her into her apartment building. His rationality left him because he was so worried about her. Now that he was okay with her living arrangement, he didn’t want to look insane.

A drink. One drink and he would be home by curfew. Something to take the edge off. Make him forget about his worry.

Harry parked in the first available spot at The Locker Room. He waved to the regulars, said hello to some fans, and headed to his usual table. Force of habit. “Hey Harry,” Louis smiled bringing Harry a drink. “Didn’t know you were coming in; she figured you had curfew.”

He tilted his head at Louis, his thumb pausing on her name in his message threads once more. “Hmm?” He hummed. “She’s... here?” He asked.

“Yeah,” Louis pouted slightly. “She’s been here since five,” he hummed like it was obvious.

“Hey, Louis!” She called from the other room. Her voice hitching slightly in alarm.

Why would she lie? Louis raced to the other room. Harry followed quickly because the apprehension in her voice was enough to bring all his worry immediately back to the forefront of his mind and he expected the worst truly. Because she didn’t seem to be very scared of anything. She lived in a seedy part of town and worked with violent hockey players.

So what could be in the main room that would make her sound so worried? A drunk guy who was getting into it with another person? A handsy guy who thought she was pretty? A girl who didn’t like her decision to cut her off?

None of his thoughts had considered it might be Kael. Who had her wrist pinned to the top of a table, his hand wrapped tightly around it keeping her in place.

Harry’s vision turned red.

She gaped meeting Harry’s gaze. “Oh fuck,” she whispered.

-- general taglist: @justlemmeadoreyou @daydreamingofmatilda @sunshinemoonsposts @loving-hazz @likeapplejuicenpeach

@straightontilmornin @freedomfireflies @littlenatilda @kathb59 @babegoals

@angel-upon @lilfreakjez @mleestiles @ameliaalvarez06 @canyonmoondreams

@summertime-pills @daphnesutton @l4rrysh0use @perfectywrong @foreverxholland

@lovrave @st-ev-ie @pandeebearstyles @toosarcastic03 @luvonstyles

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@just-another-reader1098 @hermionelove @tiredinwinter @whimsy-willows @hannah9921

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@rose-girls-world @claimingharrystigertattoo @inlikea-coolway @theseaview @lunaharrygurl

@emmie2308 @fruity-harry @somebunnybaby @avas-queen-black @mema10

@tulips4harry @sturnrc @sassamanda77 @ell0ra-br3kk3r @mp-269

@jmp1494 @fangirl509east @sideboobrry11 @drewrry

I'm sorry if I missed anyone in the taglist. Please let me know if you'd like to join, if it didn't work, if you no longer want to be included, etc. :)

If you like this, check out my masterlist here

[gudfornuthin]

‘What marks?’

Dae ho x fem!reader

Summary: you and Dae ho get intimate during lights out, and wake up to unwanted questions in the morning.

A/N: I’m grafting hard on these requests! Based on this and this ask. Feedback as always is appreciated :)

!MDNI!

“Oh fuck.”

You moan under your breath, trying not to make too much sound. After another horrifying day trying not to be killed, you were in need of a stress reliever. Luckily for you, the man pleasuring you was up for the job.

Dae ho lies beneath the sheets with his head between your thighs. His hands dig into your skin, as he pushes his tongue further into your cunt. You whine and grab a fistful of his hair, tugging harshly. He spreads your legs impossibly wider, eating you out like it was his last meal.

You reach your climax and hold in the scream you want to let out. You cover your mouth with one of your hands as tears fill your rolled back eyes. Dae ho moves from his position under the sheets and crawls up to come face to face with you.

“You okay?” He whispers, kissing your chest.

You nod, unable to form comprehensive sentences, as you move your hand away. He lifts his head and kisses you deeply, the slight taste of yourself lingering on his tongue. He trails his hot lips down to your neck, sucking and biting several times. He licks over the spots after a few minutes, moving back to admire his work.

You both lie back down, relishing in the silence and peace for however long it may last for.

- - -

The music blares from the speakers, waking everyone up from their slumber. You open your eyes and squint, dreading the day ahead and what it could hold for you. You look over to the bed next to you, seeing Dae ho slowly waking up. He must’ve moved out of your bed during the night, not wanting any awkward questions about your “activities”.

You slowly get up, your body aching. You make your way over to the group of players you’ve grown to trust over the past few days, Dae ho following close behind. He rest his hand on your back for a brief moment, and you can’t help but smile.

You greet everyone briefly as you sit down next to Hyun ju, wrapping your arms around your legs. The conversation between the group doesn’t interest you, as you zone out and stare off at nothing. You were still tired, and not ready for the next game. Dae ho waves in your peripheral, alerting you to look at him. His expression is clearly trying to convey a question. “You alright?” You halfheartedly give a thumbs up.

“Oh dear! What’s happened to your neck?” Geum ja asks you, shock and worry on her face as she points to the marks on your skin.

Your eyes widen as you look at Dae ho, his expression the same as yours. Were the marks that bad? You didn’t even think about trying to hide them.

“Uhh,” you stutter over your words.

“It must be these bed sheets!” Dae ho butts in, trying to save you from embarrassment. “I’ve seen other people itching their necks a lot, something to do with the fabric. That must be it.”

You nod along, laughing it off and hoping the conversation will carry on to something else. Unfortunately it doesn’t, as now everyone in your group is looking at you both with confusion.

Geum ja shakes her head. “No no, those aren’t from itching they’re bruises! Are you sure you’re okay?”

Dae ho and yourself both fumble over excuses, trying to play it down as to it being nothing and that it doesn’t deserve this level of attention. You look over to the younger players in your group, Hyun ju, Jun hee and Yong sik, smirking and trying not to laugh. It didn’t take much for any of them to figure out the cause of the marks on your neck. You roll your eyes, as you stand up.

“If you’ll excuse me I’m going to… sort these marks out in the bathroom.”

“You sure you don’t want Dae ho to go with you?” Yong sik asks, sending him as well as Hyun ju and Jun hee into a fit of giggles.

You glare at Dae ho, as he apologetically shrugs his shoulders, knowing he’s the one to blame for this. Stick to the waist down next time.

- - -

Taglist: @h3llok1ttyx @ivanttier @shewanfsrevenge @sugalump3d @putrescentpoet @leviathans-fish

(Sorry if any tags didn’t work)

[leilakisakabiri]

Miami Hot Lap (CL)

Summary: You're forced to do a Miami Hot Lap with your boyfriend.

Warning(s): Just fluff.

A/N: Ahh I love this concept!! Requests are open for Charles and Lando.

Word Count: 800+

Masterlist

Being invited to an F1 race through a brand seemed like a fun idea at first. You would get to see your boyfriend for the first time in weeks, watch the race in your hometown, and somehow still be able to call it work. It was a win-win situation.

That was until they approached you with a video idea.

"So since you're working with one of our sponsored brands for the weekend, a Miami native, and dating a driver, we thought it was only fair to ask you to do the Miami hot lap video." The F1 content manager explained.

"Miami hot lap?" You questioned, unfamiliar with what they wanted you to do.

"Yeah y'know just go for a few laps on the track with a driver. For you, it would be Charles of course." She assured.

You shook your head rapidly, shrinking back, "No thank you. I don't drive with Charles."

"But he's your boyfriend? Surely you've driven with him before?"

You sighed, "Yeah in a city, where he's forced to follow the speed limit, I would never be able to handle going that fast. He's too scary without restrictions."

She furrowed her eyebrows, opening her mouth to respond before she was cut off.

"Spreading lies about me again?"

You felt your lips upturn in a smile as he came up behind you, fingers entwining with yours as he kissed your cheek.

You turned to face him, attempting to be firm, "I love you, but I'm not driving with you." You repeated.

One hour later you found yourself being strapped into the passenger seat of his car, cursing yourself for giving in after he convinced you it wouldn't be that bad.

The camera sat on the dashboard, recording the both of you.

"Go slow," You warned, as he got the green light to pull away.

"We'll get no views then." He argued.

You started at him in disbelief, "Would you rather have more views on a video or have a girlfriend in one piece?"

It was quiet for a beat too long and you put your hand up, "You know what don't answer that. I don't want to know."

"So how do you like driving with me so far?" He asked once you made it past the first lap.

You nodded, "Not bad, right now I feel like we're going to get food."

He smirked, "Well in that case go on and get comfortable."

You eyed him skeptically but you decided to trust him, "Okaaay," you dragged out the word as you slouched a bit more in the seat, letting your body relax against the seat, going as far as to admire the view outside the window.

The peace only lasted for a second before Charles was slamming on the pedal, sending the car lurching forward at record speeds.

While he got a shot of adrenaline, you felt your stomach somersault as your body jolted backward.

“Charles. Charles!!” Your voice filled with panic, fingers grabbing onto the side of the car for dear life, eyes wide as you refused to take your eyes off the rapidly passing road in front of you.

He laughed at your reaction, only stopping once he realized how serious you were. He dropped a hand down to squeeze yours, reassuring you, “Relax I won’t let anything happen to you.”

The supposedly sweet action had the opposite effect, “Keep both your hands on the wheel!” You shrieked, sending him into another fit of laughter.

You put a hand to your forehead in shock and disbelief, "We're going to die."

You felt hysterical, and his shit-eating grin only irked you further.

"We're not going to die. I promise." He swore, trying to calm you down.

You shoved his shoulder, "Your promises mean nothing to me anymore Charles. We're going to die and it's all your fault." you deadpanned.

“Y/n amor I’m barely pushing 90 mph.” He revealed.

Your body froze, before finally losing some tension, “Oh."

You checked the meter seeing that he was telling the truth, "It feels a lot faster,” you argued, “Especially with the sharp turns," you elaborated.

He agreed with you but not before side-eyeing you, "Right."

"So should we go faster?" He proposed.

"Charles," You warned.

"Why so formal?"

You glanced at each other for a second and already knew what would happen from the unfiltered excitement in his eyes, "Hold on amour."

You watched in horror as the meter rapidly rose hitting up to 130mph, you mouthed a "help me" to the camera.

“I think I’m gonna throw up everywhere.” You groaned once the car had finally come to a halt.

Charles patted your head affectionately as you laid your head against your knees, “You’ll be ok.”

“No. I’m going to projectile vomit on this dashboard,” you warned, “I’m never driving with you again.”

He furrowed his eyebrows at your comment but didn't say anything, instead facing the camera.

"Well thanks for joining us today, if you want more videos like this-"

You lifted your head off your knees when you noticed he hadn't finished his sentence, finding him staring at you expectedly.

"Like and subscribe?" you questioned, voice hoarse.

"Exactly. See you guys later!" He waved bye to the camera and moved your head to lay on his lap so you could rest.

[lorasdolly]

𝙼𝙾𝚃𝙷𝙴𝚁𝚂 𝙳𝙰𝚈 𝚊𝚖𝚋𝚎𝚜𝚜𝚊 𝚖𝚎𝚍𝚊𝚛𝚍𝚊 𝚡 𝚜𝚎𝚛𝚟𝚊𝚗𝚝!𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚍𝚎𝚛

Mothers day was a special day for every mother, they'd receive appreciative gifts and support from their kids, jewelry and bouquets from their husbands.

For Ambessa, the well known warlord of the noxian nation, it was just an ordinary day. It wasn't as if her and Mel were going to reconcile any time soon, and what was the point in celebrating an ordinary day?

Ambessa was in nothing but a maroon red robe as she sat on her balcony, gazing at the view in front of her as you, her personal servant, stood next to her, ready to tend to her.

She glanced at you for a few seconds before turning back to look at the view of her nation, clearing her throat before deciding to say something.

"It is truly a shame you do not celebrate Mother’s Day and have to be by my side instead, my dearest." Ambessa lied through her teeth, she was only curious of what your answer might be.

"I have no husband, miss medarda." you spoke smoothly, not hesitating to answer her inquiries.

Ambessa shrugged and leaned back into her chair, crossing her legs and resting her chin on her knuckles on her jaw, a habit she does quite often when she ponders about something. "You could have a boyfriend." She said bluntly.

You shake your head swiftly, pursing your lips together. You turned to the wine, refilling the glass she had waiting to be poured into.

"Happy mother's day to you anyways, miss medarda."

"Oh? How sweet of you, dear." She chuckled, glancing at you from her peripheral vision, still leaning back into her chair.

"Thank you, I suppose." She muttered, taking a few long seconds before asking another question, it piqued her curiosity.

"You are quite young, it is surprising that you are not interested in starting a potential family." She spoke, not shying away from usually personal questions.

"I busy myself with work, miss medarda," you spoke with a soft tone, an edge of indifference towards the idea.

"I don't plan on marrying a man anytime soon." you said this part more quietly, not sure if continued context was appreciated at the moment.

She chuckled a second time at the answer, it was quite amusing to her how simple and straightforward you were. "Good point. What about women, then? Any luck in that department?"

A flush appeared on your face, coughing slightly when she threw the out-of-the-blue question. "No ma'am." you said, not elaborating any more.

But she decided to dismiss the subject for now, shifting back to facing the view in front of her.

Ambessa let out a somewhat tired exhale and shifted herself a little before asking, "Could you do something for me?" 

You nodded, making eye contact with her stern gaze. You've seen her in ceremonies, she's firm with her words and actions.

You were one of the few who saw her resting, but far from vulnerable.

She stood up from her chair, still clad in nothing but her loose red robe, it exposed a good chunk of her thick muscular thighs and a little bit of cleavage too, of course. 

"Prepare a nice hot bath, will you?" Ambessa said casually before making her way inside the room, with you following behind her.

Your hands constantly rested behind your back unless you were serving her.

You entered her bathroom, it was larger than any other one in the estate. Ambessa knew the importance of relaxation, and she took it to heart.

The tub was large and deep, filled with water so hot that steam was coming off the surfaces of it. It was just how she liked it.

Ambessa was untying her robe, letting it loosen and fall carelessly to the floor, she then started walking towards the tub, letting out a satisfied sigh at the sight of it.

You've been her undressed many times, but you never failed to avert your gaze in nervousness.

She looked over at you, you seemed to be still staring at her, so she decided to be a little cheeky. "Are going to watch me in the bath the whole time?"

You took your spot behind her, a small stool for you to sit on. Carefully, your hands massaged her back, untying any knots she carried on her back. "Would you prefer of me to leave, ma'am?"

"Mhm, please do continue." She spoke, body releasing tension.

Ambessa closed her eyes, leaning back and letting out a small sigh as you started to massage her shoulders, those strong yet tired muscles. Your hands were gentle and pleasant, yet firm and efficient. 

"You do such a good job. It’s almost like you have done this a thousand times." She spoke with a pleasant tone.

"You deserve mental repose, ma'am." You spoke close to a whisper, not wanting to disrupt her peace.

"Especially on Mother's day." you added.

"You’re too sweet," She opened her eyes and glanced down at herself and then at you before smirking a little.

Her eyes were mostly focused on your hands massaging her shoulders. She was just imagining how else your hands could be used, perhaps in other kinds of massages.

Ambessa shook her head slightly as if dismissing a thought that suddenly popped into her head. 

"You surely carry the figure of a warrior, ma'am." you spoke, the praise falling off your tongue easily. It was far from a lie.

Ah, she truly adored when people praised her.

Ambessa’s smirk grew wider, her eyes still fixated on you. "You’re flattering me, little one," She said in a smooth and sultry voice, mixed with her raspy tone.

"Are you this nice and gentle to everyone you serve?" she half joked, but expected a response of some kind.

"Maybe. Perhaps far more towards you, ma'am." You had served many people from the Medarda house, even Mel Medarda at some point when she was only a child, but a sense of familiarity came from serving Ambessa.

She chuckled at your reply, taking it as an interesting answer. "And why is that? Why treat me any different, hm?"

Ambessa leaned her head back a little, giving your hands access to the base of her neck, still smirking and looking at you.

"I have served you the longest," you said, but more words rested at the tip of your tongue. You didn't allow them to slip, silently swallowing them.

Ambessa’s smirk changed into a small little smile as her gaze turned from a somewhat sultry one to a more warm one, an unexpected change, a rare one, too.

"I suppose I don’t mind your presence either, little one," She let out a deep and relaxed exhale, closing her eyes again.

"You’re actually more pleasant to be around than my own offspring at times." She spoke with a hint of bitterness in her tone now.

"I'm sure that's far from the truth, miss medarda." you said in a poor attempt at comfort.

You knew she didn't require comfort, nor pity. She was a strong woman.

"Many consider you.. Intimidating, miss medarda." you began, wishing to change the subject.

"Intimidating, huh?" Ambessa smirked again, opening her eyes and glancing at you again, now amused at your words.

"You’re not afraid, are you?" She chuckled, her gaze shifting from a more casual one to one with a slightly more suggestive look now.

"I..i don't think i have any reason to be afraid. i don't do anything to anger you, and you're a woman of reason." You spoke, a hint of tenderness behind your words.

"You wouldn't hurt me without reason." you finished.

"Correct," She spoke in her sultry tone again, still smirking

Her gaze was fixated on you again, her eyes slowly and slowly looking over you head to toe, as if she was inspecting you. Her smirk grew wider as her eyes traveled further and further down. 

"You seem to have a good head on your shoulders, smart girl." She paused for a moment, still looking you over intently.

Her gaze was nearly frightening.

She looked around before continuing. "And a lovely body as well."

A gentle smile graced your face, compliments from Ambessa Medarda were unusual.

"Thank you, Miss Medarda."

Ambessa hummed to herself, seemingly pleased by your appearance and your words, but that was not the only thing that was currently pleased.

She leaned back and closed her eyes again, "Keep massaging, will you?"

Her tone was commanding and assertive, like she expected you to do without arguing.

Your hands kept skillfully massaging, digging into ever tense muscle she had.

She closed her eyes and let out another satisfied hum, enjoying your massaging skills.

Ambessa sat still for quite a while, feeling your hands on her shoulders and back, until she finally spoke once more.

"You’re skilled at this," She said, a hint of satisfaction mixed with desire in her tone. 

One of your finger tips traced over her scars, they were scattered all over her arms, back, and shoulders.

They were healed, meaning they were old enough to forget. Gently, you traced the last one and spoke. "You have a handful of scars. You've been in war quite a lot."

She opened her eyes for a moment, glancing at the many scars all over her lower arms, but not giving it too much attention, she's had them for years now after all.

Ambessa chuckled a little as you asked that question, it was such a harmless yet casual question to ask a renowned warlord.

"Most of them, yes." She replied, her tone indifferent, as if she was merely talking about the weather.

"I'm sure it's exhausting to always be carrying the pressure of being on the frontlines." You said, your massaging becoming slower and softer.

Her expression became somewhat solemn for a moment as she remembered all the battles and wars she was involved in.

There was a pang of tiredness and exhaustion within her, but she quickly dismissed it and her expression became one of indifference again. 

"It’s just part of life," She replied bluntly, like it was just a simple task, like having breakfast or taking a walk. "I was born, bred, and raised to be a warrior."

You hesitated for a moment, deciding whether or not to mention something. A moment of relatability. "I have.. a couple of scars, too."

You backtracked for a moment, "Not any as brutal as yours, I'm sure."

That piqued her interest.

Ambessa lifted her head up again and moved her head to the side, looking at you, she let out a scoff and raised an eyebrow at you, a mix of surprise and curiosity in her eyes.

"A couple, you say?" She spoke in a slightly intrigued tone.

You remembered moments of weakness, seconds of vulnerability that have coated your identity all your life.

It's been a part of you for as long as you've known, much different than Ambessa.

"Near my thighs and belly." you clarified, clearing your throat.

She looked down at your thighs on cue as you spoke, her gaze lingering there for a few moments.

A little hum escaped her lips as she did so, but she was still somewhat interested in knowing how you received those scars, of course.

"How’d you get them?"

Ambessa spoke with an interested and curious tone, but there was a hint of playfulness in there as well. 

"I wasn't.. always a Medarda servant, ma'am." You spoke quietly, an edge of uncertainty in your voice.

Her eyebrow raised again, her interest grew even more now.

Ambessa turned her body a little to the side and leaned an elbow on the tub’s edge, looking directly at you and now giving you her undivided attention.

And she was also somewhat fixated on your thighs again, eyeing them, she was visibly somewhat distracted.

You tensed, sitting straight with your hands now resting on your lap. "I come from Zaun. Then.. the Medarda family found use for me."

"I'm eternally grateful." You spoke, gratitude coating the tip of your tongue.

Ambessa kept her eyes fixated on your thighs for a few more seconds before she shifted her gaze to your stomach instead, fabric covering the scars there too.

She let out scoff before speaking in an almost mocking tone. "Eternal gratitude to the Medarda house, you say?"

You nodded. Your eyes gazed at her features, the firmness behind them. Your eyes differed, sparks in every corner of your eyes.

She chuckled again and looked over your body, taking in the scars before returning her gaze back to your face.

"Is that so?" Ambessa smirked before shifting her body even more towards you, she leaned a little closer to you now, eyeing you expectantly, waiting for your reply. "And why is that?"

"I would have much more scars if it weren't for the Medarda house." You thought of the possibilites, where you could've been right now.

Pained in the middle of Zaun, stuck working in the same place.

She hummed, seemingly pleased with your answer. Ambessa nodded in response and continued.

"And why do you think they took you?" She inquired with an intrigued expression.

"I'm useful." You replied curtly, knowing your place, why you were there.

The clock from her bedroom ticked, and silence encircled you and Ambessa.

That answer left her somewhat unsatisfied and wanting more, she wanted to know how exactly you are of use, though it was not difficult to see that you were pretty. 

Ambessa leaned closer again, her voice lowering and becoming huskier, her smirk growing wider. “And how are you useful, hm? Do tell me."

“They say I am a good listener. And pliant.” Your voice didn't crack as you spoke, unashamed of who you were, how you were.

It got you this far.

"Pliant, hm? An obedient little thing, aren't you?" Ambessa’s tone was still lower, even, and her smirk grew wider upon hearing those adjectives, those descriptions of you. 

Her eyes flicked to your thighs again, looking over them in an almost admiring manner. Your hands covered certain scars on your lap. You felt judged, to a certain extent. Like she judged you for not disobeying, for not rebelling.

Quickly, you came to your own defense. “It makes my life easier. I know I won't be above anyone anytime soon, so why attempt?” you kept being respectful even though her gaze secretly made you feel uneasy.

That made her chuckle again, amused and intrigued at your answer.

Ambessa’s smirked widened slightly before leaning down farther, now looking down at your body sitting below her, and looking over it intently, her gaze stopping on your thighs again.  "It is wise to know your place in life," She said in a low, almost murmuring tone, like she was speaking that as a piece of advice to you.

"You know yours, don’t you?” she knew you did, but she wanted clarification. She wanted you to say it. To admit you're beneath her and all of those you served, or at least that's how you understood her question.

“Yes ma’am,” you said, not specifying what your place is. You didn't want to. "Good," She said plainly, still looking over your body.

Ambessa let one of her hands gently rest on your thigh, caressing the scars that were there and enjoying the sight of your thighs, before letting out a very satisfied hum. “I do enjoy pliant and obedient people, they really are more useful, aren’t they?”

“I’d hope so.” You said softly. You didn't deny the breadth of your subordination, how that did make you beneficial or simply convenient to keep around.

At this point, there was no denying that she was intentionally letting her hand rest on your thighs, no doubt enjoying the feeling of your skin under her finger tips. She chuckled again before speaking in a slightly more commanding tone. "Have you always been this good and useful, little one?"

Your hands rested on your lap, apprehension in every crevice of your bones. “To be truthful with you, I worked in a brothel at Zaun.” You chose not to be ashamed. “I needed to be flexible. That is where I got these scars..” Your voice had grown confident speaking about it.

Others in the Medarda house knew about your origin, but not Ambessa.

Ambessa’s hand continued to rest on your thigh, now beginning to slowly and gently caress it. She seemed somewhat surprised by hearing that you were a brothel worker, her hand stopped moving and her expression changed for a moment, seemingly somewhat disturbed and displeased.

Then a few seconds passed and her hand started moving on your thigh again and her expression became somewhat neutral again, though there was still a hint of dislike visible in her eyes.

"Hm." Ambessa hummed, her tone becoming a little more authoritative again. “And how… utilized were you in the brothel? How pliable were you?” Ambessa asked that question in a somewhat commanding and definitive tone, wanting an honest reply, she looked at you with a more grave facial expression.

“I allowed many things to happen to me.” You looked down, making direct eye contact with Ambessa. “I needed to let them do it.”

Her expression changed to one of displeasure again once you spoke. She let out a scoff and looked you over for a few more seconds, still with a slightly discontent expression. “A poor woman in need, then? A woman desperate for money to survive." Ambessa spoke with a mocking and almost condescending tone, but there was also a hint of curiosity in it as well.

“They’d pay more depending on how much I’d let them do.” You spoke softer this time, hinting at the nonexistent limit you set on your “clients.”

Your lips continued to purse, tense at the thought of how much you were sharing. That made her chuckle again, this time it wasn’t a satisfied chuckle, it was more of a sinister one. "Did they treat you cruelly, then? Were they cruel to you?" Ambessa spoke in an almost sneering tone as she looked you over again, eyeing your body and taking in your scars once more.

“Yes, Miss Medarda.” You replied firmly, not sugarcoating your experiences. You stood your ground, refusing to feel guilty for doing what was necessary to survive. At your blunt response, her expression changed yet again, a sinister smirk appearing on her face now.

Ambessa’s hand still continued to gently stroke your thigh as she spoke in a more mocking and even cruel tone, an odd excitement visible in her eyes. "And you allowed it, didn’t you, little one?”

Your thigh had goosebumps from her calloused hands running over them, trying to keep eye contact. “Yes, I did.”

Her hand suddenly stopped moving, now gripping your thigh more firmly, her nails digging into your skin a little, but not enough to break it. Ambessa’s smirk became even wider, clearly enjoying holding some power over you like this, enjoying that submission from you. 

Her tone was still mocking and cruel, even as she spoke. "How… pathetic.”

“Please excuse me if this tarnishes the perception you had of me.” you said, hoping she didn’t think any differently of you. You weren’t apologetic but craved her approval, her validation.

Her smirk slowly faded after a while when your words sunk in. Ambessa’s grip on your thigh lessened, her hand and fingers no longer digging into your skin so firmly.

“Tarnishes?” She spoke that word with a scoff and a hint of irritation in her tone.  "You think I think less of you because you were forced to do that?”

Ambessa then looked at you with a slight glare, her gaze more intense and serious now, it was as if she was trying to see right through you, reading your true thoughts. “You have mistaken what I said.” you corrected, averting your gaze this time. “I wasn’t forced to do anything.”

Her eyes widened for a moment, her glare softening slightly to one of surprise. Ambessa was taken back a little by your answer, clearly surprised by the revelation that you weren’t entirely forced to work at the brothel, that you permitted yourself to be treated like that. 

"You weren’t… forced? You… did it of your own will?" She spoke that question with an almost dumbfounded, surprised tone. “I am a desperate woman, ma’am. I walked into that brothel out of my own will.”

That realization further widened her eyes, she stared at you for a few more moments with her wide open eye, her expression now becoming a mixture of surprise and vexation, even confusion.

She had clearly underestimated exactly how desperate you were.

Ambessa leaned back slightly, her eyes now darting between your thighs and your stomach again, as if she couldn’t figure out exactly how to feel about this.  “You went in on your own? Simply to make money?"

“I was on the verge of death if I didn’t get paid-“ you quickly got defensive, hands clenching into fists at your lap. Your eyebrows furrowed, not enjoying the judgement that radiated off of her.

Her eyes widened again after hearing that.  Ambessa was taken back again, and surprised once more, but more than that, she was… pitying you.

The powerful, warlord of Noxus, pitying you.

Her glare softened even more and her expression slowly changed to one of a somewhat insight and pitiful one. "Was that the only option you had?”

You shake your head quicky, “Gosh, no.” You squeezed your eyes shut fora moment, all emotions rushing through you. “I had other options, all over Zaun.”

Desperate, yes, that would be the best word to describe you.

Ambessa’s eyes narrowed slightly as that thought crossed her mind. “You had other options." She repeated that part while looking you over again, her hand still gently caressing your thighs.

“And you chose to do that instead?” she emphasized, referring to your previous line of work as if it were horrifying. “I know,” you replied, aware of the lack of self-respect and dignity you had allowed yourself to acquire by letting anyone treat you however they pleased.

Her hand gripped your thigh firmly again when you said that, her eyes narrowed even further. "Why?" Ambessa asked that single word in a firm, curious tone, wanting to know the exact reason behind your choice.

She gave you a chance to explain yourself but you knew it would be in vain. “It was the quickest way. a few clients in one day, letting them do anything, i'd earn not a lot, but more than enough to live.”

That answer left her with a bitter taste in her mouth, almost sickened. Ambessa’s hand tightened again around your thigh as she let your answer sink in, she looked at you with a more serious and judging expression. ".... and that’s what you did? Every day?"

She never had to experience being in that spot. Sure, she’s requested brothel workers before, but only from the finest of places. “Yes,” you replied simply.

Once again, her eyes widened when you answered in a blank and firm tone, confirming her question. That disclosure only made her feel more pity for you, but that was mingled with a hint of contempt and disruption as well. 

She looked over your scarred body again and just couldn’t help but look at your thighs in particular. “Does this make you think any less of me yet?” you said, humor in your voice.

Ambessa’s hand squeezed your thigh again when you said that, almost in a gentle, yet firm way. "Yes, you’re used and.. pathetic.” She almost spat those words at you, her expression becoming more stern and serious, almost cruel and judgmental.

"But I don’t feel any less of you, little one." Ambessa spoke in a lower, softer but firm tone, her free hand lightly stroking the part of your thighs without scars, and her grip still tight.

“I never imagined you’d be the one to spare me humiliation, Miss Medarda,” you said with a scoff. “I’ve gone through enough of it, no need to hide it from me.” your eyes rolled as you finished your sentence, feeling infantilized.

Her hand moved from your stomach up to cup your cheek, she gently but firmly gripped your face and forced you to look directly at her as she spoke. “Why would I admit that I feel less of you even though you’ve been exploited?”

Ambessa’s tone still held that firm and authoritative quality in it, but there was an element of gentleness to it as well. "Just because you allowed it to happen doesn’t mean you deserved it. You do not deserve that disgrace."

You despised how she spared you her wrath, the way she sympathized. The sweetness is her tone was little but sickening, you hated the pity.

“Forgive me,” you spoke quickly. Silence diverged in the small space between you and her.

“Tell me dear, have you ever been given what you wanted?” she tured back around in the bath, motioning her hand for you to continue the massage. Your hands resumed their movement.

Doubt began to surface within you, uncertain of how to react to her. “No, ma’am,” you ultimately said.

“Have you ever wanted much?” She kept questioning and this time you nodded, “Yes ma’am.”

“Can I give it to you?”

She had laid you down on her bed, her body still damp from the recent bath. She hadn’t put her clothes on yet, the water drop falling onto your uniform. Your lips were parted in a level of suprise unmatched.

“Miss Medarda-“ You began but she cut you off, a hand on your chin roughly. She held your chin there to make sure that you kept eye contact with her. “Are you nervous, dearest?” she said, teasing, almost mocking.

She brought her hand away from your chin and placed two fingers on your pulse. She counted silently. "Think you are." She leaned down to whisper that, her knee finding its way between your thighs.

"Do you want me to take off..this?" her finger toyed with the white apron tied around your uniform. She cocked a brow once you nodded.

"Words.." she dragged, tracing the finger down her body.

"Yes, miss medarda.." your breathed out, eyes shutting.

Carefully, she undid the apron, throwing it someplace on your luxurious floor. But still the fabric of the uniform covered your body, held her back from what she wanted.

"Miss medarda.. take it off.." she chuckled at your words, at the way your vision narrowed towards her. The desperation in your gaze.

"Needy little one, hm?" She began unbuttoning the back of the dress, her arms encircling you.

"Ambessa. Say it." Ambessa asked of you, waiting for her to name to slip off your tongue.

"Ambessa.." you spoke the moment she threw the dress on the floor. All you now had on was a bralette and lace panties.

She traced your panties and the waistband, then cupping one of your breast with her hand.

"Should I remove these barriers, too?" She asked, knowing the answer already.

She enjoyed seeing you submit to your pleasure, also knowing this would be one of the first times you'd do that.

"Yes, yes please, Ambessa." you were just oh so well-mannered. She loved hearing you plead, hearing you be so respectful and ready for her.

She slid the bralette off, then meticulously the panties. She watched as you huffed and whined. "Can.. can I touch you, Ambessa?" you asked sweetly, a pathetic and doe-eyed expression painted on your features.

She nearly let out a cackle, a dark smile graced her lips. She brought a hand to graze your bottom lip and then your forehead. "Sure, dearest."

You immediately clinged to her, needing to remove any article of clothing. "So impatient.." she chuckled and removed you small hand.

The difference between your hands brought a spark straight to your clit, she could hold both of yours in one of hers.

She made it easier for you, removing her shirt and pants as she kneeled on the bed. You layed down, spread out for her.

She was left in panties only, no bra, just her panties.

She came back to her original spot, cupping your tit with her big hand, squeezing and stroking it.

She was far from gentle yet it seemed so tender through your perspective, much more gentle then anybody at the brothel.

She slowly brought her mouth closer to the other breast, staring at you through her lashes before beginning to suck on your nipple. Slowly, and gently latching onto it.

She suckled, eyes closed and pleased. Her hand left your other breast, traveling down to your cunt.

With no ounce of patience, she entered one thick finger into your slick cunt. A moan left your mouth, arching your back which caused your breast to go further into her mouth.

Did i mention she had rather large hands?

She started curling it, pressing down onto your g-spot. Your spongy walls squeezed around her finger, making wet and sloppy noises she's never heard before.

She laughed darkly onto your tit and then let it go with a "pop" noise.

She looked at you, the way your eyes rolled to the back of your head in pleasure. "Feel nice, dearest?"

You nodded, whine and whimpers coming from the utter depths of your chest. Remembering her command to use words and not gestures, you spoke. "Yes.. so- so good.."

With that, she entered another digit into your sopping cunt. You were just being so damn good and obedient for her, she had to make you feel good.

Her fingers pumped in and out of you at a pace you've never felt before, squirming endlessly. She held you down with one arm, stopping your squirming.

"I-I'm so close.." Your words echoed through her mind and she smirked.

"Stay silent." She said firmly, bringing her breast to your mouth as she kept her extended arm fingering you deeply.

You moaned on it, basically feeding on your tit. You were so close, just about to be pushed over the edge.

"Cum, dearest." she spoke in a sultry tone, causing you to come undone, squirting on her hand.

She helped you ride your high, pressing into your velvety spot multiple times till you backed away.

Your fluids coated her fingers and she didn't hesitate to clean them with her tongue. She smothered the liquid on her lips and then the rest into her mouth.

You reached up for her, needing some sense of closure. Your hand tangled into her hair. "K..kiss-" you said softly.

"What's that, dear? Do you wish for a kiss?" She teased, her clean hand touching your cheek gently.

A nod from you was enough to make her kiss you, not even a single word needed.

She asserted dominance in the kiss quickly, exploring your mouth with her tongue. Even if she expected patience from others, she was not a patient woman.

It was a passionate kiss, leaving you pushing on her chest with a small palm, desperate for air.

She broke the kiss with a string of saliva connecting your tongues. You breathed with your tongue resting slightly outside your mouth.

You tugged at her panties, needing them off, needing to please her.

She made you feel so good, how could you now return the favor?

She did as you asked and took off her own panties the kneeling on the bed. You knew what she wanted and you were prepared to serve it to her on a sliver platter.

She lowered her pussy onto your face, the wet mess of arousal on your lips and nose. "Eat, dearest." She demanded, a smile on her lips as her hands founds the headboard.

You nodded, a muffled "Yes ma'am" as you began to suck on her clit. She had a bush above her pussy, tickling your face but you didn't care, it just made you more needy.

You ate her like some sort of candy, starving for something to eat.

It was messy, sloppy, uncalled for. She moved one hand to grip your hair. She bucked her hips against your face, her clit getting friction against your nose.

She came on your face quickly, savoring the moment.

Collapsing besides you, she held your arm. Both of you panted, breathing heavily in inexplicable pleasure.

"Think you're the one that requires a shower now." she spoke, a breathy laugh at the back of her throat.

You whined, a "hngh" leaving your lips. Turning your body and resting it on top of hers.

Wasn't that a nice mother's day gift?

[aphelionwrotes11]

(MDNI, dubcon) (not edited)

Thinking about stalker!john price who retired early and can’t stand spending his time in his big ol’ house all by himself :(

Wanders across a pretty little dear like you, working retail in one of the little stores in the small town you live in. Can’t help falling in love with those tentative eyes that look up at him through your lashes, all shy and soft.

He just can’t control the way he feels like he has to keep you safe, your his now, doll. Follows you home every night, just to make sure you’re safe. Puts a few cameras around your house, only to make sure no unwanted visitors are hanging around, of course!

But he can’t help himself when he finds himself in your room when you’re sleeping, gazing at your relaxed figure. Oh, so peaceful and gorgeous.

You start getting a bit paranoid when you begin noticing a few things out of place. A door closed that you could’ve swore you left open when you left, a few missing shirts, a few missing panties, and now you come home to an apartment just a bit cleaner than you left it. Your bed made a little neater, no dirty laundry hung from a chair or lying on the edge of your bed.

At first you think you’re losing it. This shitty job must be taking too much out of you. But, on a night when an especially shitty shift happens, everything comes crashing down. Some rando decided to take out their frustration on you which then led to you bursting into tears and running off to the back room, frustrated and humiliated. A few minutes later your manager comes to tell you that you can go home, that bloke was dragged off by some guy into the night, she’s certain he won’t be a bother again.

So, you make your way down your usual path. Sniffling every now and then, pausing only to wipe your puffy eyes. When you get to your front door, you find that it’s already unlocked. Blinding hot fear lodges itself into your throat. Did that guy follow you home? (No lol)

You push the door open to be hit with the smell of your favorite take out. You take a few cautious steps in, scanning the kitchen and living room. It’s empty, but spotless. Dishes are put away, the counters looked like they’ve been scrubbed clean, the floors are swept. On the table rests a bag from your favorite restaurant, a note lies beside it reading, eat up little dear :)

John watches you from the crack in the door of your small hallway closet. Watches you walk through your house, kitchen knife in hand, looking for any potential threats. You look everywhere, besides the closet in the hallway. Oh honey, what would you do without him? What if there had been a real intruder and you had just missed him? Gosh. But, John’s upset is quickly replaced with joy as you settle into a seat and eat your still hot dinner. He can’t help but shiver as a relaxed look comes across your face, more relaxed than you’ve looked in ages. That must mean that you accept him now right?

Well, he takes it that way. Starts getting more bold. Leaves gifts on your counter for you to come home to, your favorite foods, books you like, items from stores you looked at just a bit too long. Keeps your apartment tidy, clothes washed, dishes laid to dry. At first, fear grabs you by the heart each time you come home from work to find another gift and a clean apartment. But after a week or so you decide that whoever it is that’s been watching you has been more of a help than a nuisance, and if they wanted to hurt you they would’ve by now, right? So you stupidly allow yourself to relax into this routine. Had to decide not to call the cops when you came home to find a few pairs of lacy panties laid out on your bed, matching bralettes resting beside them. In your size of course.

So, on one of your worst nights of the year, a shitty shift, shitty day, shitty week. You find yourself sobbing into a pillow in the darkness of your room. Sleep just couldn’t find you. You gasp when you feel the other side of the bed sink. Lying there, frozen. You feel a big, warm hand on your shoulder, squeezing softly. John sucks in a breath just at the feel of you. You start to cry more, “no- no please-“ you sob, terrified.

And John just coos at you.

“Shh, shh, don’t worry honey. M’not gonna do anythin. Just wanna hold’ya, make you feel better.”

He lays down behind you, warm arms encircling your waist, pulling you closer to his broad chest. And despite better logic, you allow him too. Find yourself relaxing in his warm grip, melting from his low coos. This is bad, very bad. Extremely dangerous. But at this point you just don’t care.

John holds you like that for a while, rubbing his hands up and down your sides, pressing his nose into your hair.

“What’s got you all worked up, honey? Hard day? Could make you feel a lot better. Could make that all go away.”

He whispers into the soft skin of your neck, and you whimper. Starts squeezing the fat of your hips, placing little kisses along the length of your throat. Your hands find his hair and tug, he takes that as a sign to keep going.

S’not long before he’s spearing you with his hot, heavy cock. Thrusting into you at a languid pace from behind. His calloused fingers rub your clit. Your whining and moaning, melting from his touch.

“Would do anything for ya honey, promise’ya I would, so perfect..” he groans into your ear, a hand coming up to roll your nipple between his fingers.

He’s moving so perfectly, his thrusts hitting a spot inside of you that sends ripples of pleasure up your spine. When you finally come, shuddering and clenching on his cock, he whimpers.

He doesn’t stop there, flips you onto your back and starts thrusting into you like a battering ram, no more soft love making. That’s when you see his face, that ruggedly handsome regular that you’ve had the biggest crush on, who just so happened to also be your stalker.

Your too fucked out too care, and he’s too pussy drunk to think. Fucking himself into you like an animal.

“Been waiting to touch you like this sweetheart, waitin so long- fuuuck-“ he sounds drunk, his voice thick. His eyes are glassy as he stares down at you.

“Need ya, I love ya..” he mumbles deliriously, getting closer to filling your tight cunt by the second.

“Cum in me..” you whisper. And that’s what throws him over the edge.

He cums, hard. Thrusting his seed into you, milking his cock with your clenching cunt. He’s crying, a few tears dripping down his cheeks. :((

“Love you, love you, love you, love you-“ he repeats like a mantra, fucking himself into you still despite the overstimulation. Looks utterly wrecked.

Takes a few weeks, but eventually he manages to coax his little sweetheart into living with him. It’s a lot easier, isn’t it? I mean he’s always with you regardless, been following you around for a while. Now he gets to see you constantly. Has you quit that shitty job, promises to take care of you. Deposits money into your bank account each week to ease your nervousness, just so you don’t feel too trapped, not that he’d ever let you go.

Follows you around like a lost puppy, always an arms length away. Eventually you mind less and less.

Months pass by in a blur and it’s not long till your stomach is fat and swollen with a little baby, and he’s on one knee in front of you with a ring. Doesn’t matter what you say though :( you’re his girl, forever.

(Gaaahhhhh I love him so much. NEEEEEED HIM.)

[rafeandonlyrafe]

easter day

words: 1.3k

warnings: 18+ only, smut, dad!rafe, mom!reader, fluffy and cute, talk of pregnancy, p in v sex

“when are they getting here?” rafe questions, hands on your hips, leaning over your shoulder to look at the counter where you're finishing frosting the sugar cookies with various pastel colors.

“uhh…” you glance at the clock. “any minute now.” you set down the piping bag as you finish the last detail and turn to look at rafe, changing your voice to a whisper. “are all the eggs hidden?”

“yup.” he nods. “and i already told harper that the small blue ones are for her brother so to let him get the easy ones. the easter bunny told me specifically.”

“smart.” you chuckle, letting rafe pull you in and press your lips together.

“i do just have one complaint.” rafe says, hands moving from your hips to grip your bum. 

“and what would that be?” you look at your husband, one eyebrow raised.

“this dress.” rafe shakes his head. “you look too good in it, you're practically begging me to put a third kid in you.”

“not until elijah is two, remember?” you remind rafe.

“he's 18 months, that's practically two!” rafe lies through his teeth, his grin turning mischievous, knowing just how big of a difference six months can make in a baby's development.

“ill tell you what…” you run your hands up rafes chest. “why don't we sneak away when my parents get here? you know they act like we don't exist anyways.”

you can't blame them, harper just turned 5 and is a handful, which is only added to by elijah. while he's an angel, he's still a toddler and will get into anything and everything if you turn your back for even a minute.

“sounds perfect.” rafe gives you another kiss as harper runs into the kitchen, elijah still distracted in the corner in his bouncer.

“mommy!” she squeals, launching herself at you. you pick her up and easily turn her so she's on your hip. “mommy, mommy.” she continues. “the easter bunny came! i saw eggs in the backyard!”

“oh, yay!” you bounce her slightly as elijah giggles, reacting to harper's excitement. rafe heads to the bouncer and lifts him out.

“and look, mama made cookies.” you show her the frosted sugar cookie eggs and baby chicks. “and i left a couple unfrosted for you to do with grandma and grandpa!”

harper lets out another squeal and wiggles excitedly. “elijah, gammy and gamps are coming over!”

rafe chuckles at her mispronunciation. it started when she was first learning to talk and their names haven't changed since, even elijah calling them their nicknames.

there's a knock at the door and harper wiggles out of your arms to run towards the front, quickly followed by you and rafe, who unabashedly checks you out as harper opens the door to your parents.

“harper!” your mom steps in, wrapping her in a big hug, completing it with pressing kisses all over her face.

“and there's my little man.” your dad takes elijah from rafes arms, whose happy to give him up, itching to get that alone time with you.

you quickly usher your parents in, showing them the unfrosted cookies and other activities to keep your kids attention. 

“rafe and i are gonna go finish their easter baskets.” in truth you've had their baskets finished for a week now, but there's no reason for them to know that.

“okay, that's fine dear.” your mom says, barely glancing to you as harper grabs a butter knife covered in pink frosting.

you grab your husband's hand, and he practically sprints up the stairs, pulling you right along with him into your bedroom.

“god, you knew this would happen didn't you?” rafe questions, hands gripping at your dress, pulling it up as he backs you up towards your bed, keeping the door slightly cracked so you can hear if anyone comes up the stairs. “you know i can't resist this dress.”

you keep your sundresses at the front of your closet, wearing them whenever you find a reason to, purely because of how rafe reacts to them.

“stop talking and hurry up.” you chastise rafe, fingers swiftly undoing the buttons of his crisp shirt until your hands can delve in and feel his muscles.

“yes, ma’am.” rafe smirks, lowering you onto the bed as his lips find yours again, fingers coming to your underwear to feel the wet spot that has started to form. his fingers swipe over the material until you’re moaning quietly, eyes shut.

“god, need to get inside you.” rafe groans, standing to undo his shorts and grab a condom from the nightstand as you take your underwear off, tossing them in the general direction of your hamper. 

you use the moment of silence to listen, seeing if you can hear anything coming from downstairs, but all seems to be calm as rafe pulls your hips to the edge of the bed, lining up his cock with your entrance.

rafe sinks in slowly with a low groan as you gasp, gripping the bed sheets. its been far too long since you’ve been able to have a moment alone like this.

“so good, mama.” rafe wraps your legs around his hips as he begins to move, thrusting in and out of you, thumb already rubbing over your clit, knowing you both need to cum and get downstairs as soon as possible.

“yeah, feels good.” you whine, covering your mouth with your palm as you let out noises, rafe always able to get the sounds out of you even when you should be quiet.

rafe moves faster, cock pushing at your walls, stretching you open for his length.

“shit.” rafe groans. “we need to convince your parents or aunt wheezie to take them for a weekend.”

“mmm, that’s exactly what we need.” you nod. you know that you’d probably end up pregnant again if you had an uninterrupted weekend with rafe, you already feel the urge to reach down and pull the condom off of him, but the thought of dealing with elijah at his current age while pregnant has your mind clearing quickly.

“or we can start sending elijah to daycare once a week.” rafe says, glad that the conversation is helping quell his orgasm somewhat, not wanting to burst inside of you too early.

“fuck, whatever it takes to get more of this.” you push at rafes stomach. he takes a step back as you flip over on the bed, toes touching the floor as you turn onto your stomach.

“god, i wanna marry you all over again.” rafe pushes quickly back insides, thrusts now speeding up as his hands grip your ass, squeezing it and watching the way it jiggles with every thrust.

you push your hand below your body to touch your clit, rubbing it in pace with rafes cock pushing inside of you, pressing your face into the mattress to drown out your noises.

“gonna cum, baby.” rafe warns, cock swelling inside of you before hes releasing with one more deep thrust, triggering your own orgasm as your body shakes.

rafe pulls out, flipping your dress back down over your ass just in case someone sneaks upstairs as he discards of the condom and redresses before heading back to you, helping you turn over to sit on the edge of the bed.

“i love you.” rafe coos, pressing kisses to the top of your head as you lean against him.

“i love you too.” you take his hand in his. “and we should get back downstairs before they get suspicious.”

“absolutely.” rafe nods, following you out the bedroom and down the stairs, leaning in to whisper in your ear when he sees everyone is still occupied with frosting cookies, a smear of orange frosting across harpers nose. “and don’t think i forgot that you aren’t wearing panties anymore.”

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[woso-dreamzzz]

Injured (Alexia's Version): Christmas

Alexia Putellas x Child!Reader

Summary: Christmas with Bambi and Alexia

Christmas never used to be so busy, Alexia thinks to herself as she gets yet another paper cut trying to wrap presents.

It's a wonder that baby Jaume needed all this stuff but Alexia preserves as she wraps yet another stuffed football that everyone seems to be getting him.

You're easy to buy for though and the three model trains Alexia bought are already wrapped and under the tree as well as your new ballet pumps and the cute music box that plays some ballet melody that the woman at the shop said you would love.

"Mami?"

Your head pokes around the door frame, unbound hair swaying slightly with your movement.

Alexia smiles, ignoring the sting of her new paper cut as she extends her arms out for you.

You go into them willingly, settling on her lap.

"What is it, bambi? Is something wrong?"

She tries to rack her brain for everything that could have gone wrong. It's not been long since she picked you up from ballet and you went up to your room to find your train conductor's hat and build a whole new track for some of your older train models.

Alexia tries to think whether any of your shelves looked wobbly or if something could have fallen on you but you don't look injured and you don't seem to be crying either.

"No," You say and Alexia breathes an internal sigh of relief," Just forgot to give something to you."

Alexia hadn't noticed the little sheet of paper in your hands when you first came into her, too wrapped up in the idea that you had somehow gotten injured with something.

"But you can't read it!" You say quickly when Alexia goes to take it," Because the dance teacher said that only Santa's allowed to read it but we need to give it to our mummies so they can send it off to him."

"I won't read it," Alexia lies, pressing a soft kiss to your crown," And I'll send it straight off to Santa."

"Promise?"

"Straight off to Santa," Alexia repeats, adjusting your train conductor hat on your head," Now, why don't you head on upstairs again and I'll grab you when it's snack time?"

"Okay!"

You off up the stairs again and Alexia gently opens your letter to Santa once she hears your bedroom door click closed.

The words haunt Alexia for most of the night. Even as she lays in bed with Olga tucked under her arm and Jaume on the baby monitor on the bedside table.

Alexia slips out of bed, endlessly pacing the length of the house with the only light coming from her open laptop screen.

It's a complete whim that she books them, already knowing you're going to see a version of it over the Christmas period but Alexia just can't help herself.

"Mami?" You say weeks later as Alexia wraps a scarf around your neck," Where are we going?"

"I've got a surprise for you," Alexia says," Santa's spoken to me."

Instantly, your eyes go wide and you start chewing on the inside of the cheek.

"Am I on the naughty list?"

"Oh no," Alexia says quickly, drawing you into her arms," Not at all. You're actually on his nice list and, you know what?"

"What?"

"You're all the way at the top!" Alexia says," And kids all the way at the top get a Christmas gift early!"

"Oh," You say, cheeks going a little pink at the praise," And we're going out?"

"We are."

"And then Olga and Jaume are coming later?"

You glance behind you where Olga is feeding your little brother his dinner.

Alexia shakes her head. "Just us. Santa was very certain that had to be just us two."

"He was? So he did get my letter!"

"He did," Alexia agrees," So it's just going to be me and you tonight, bambi."

The words of your letter are still on Alexia's mind as she walks you into the theatre.

Dear Santa,

I'm sorry if I was a naughty girl this year but for Christmas, can you make sure my Mami doesn't forget me ever again?

Love y/n

"Mami?" You ask when Alexia's hands don't lift up from where they're covering your eyes.

"Yes?"

"Are we there yet?"

"Just one moment. Let me just...Yeah, just turn a little, bambi. That's it. Good girl."

You react just like Alexia had hoped you would - wide eyed in awe as you look around the reception area of the Ballet de Catalunya's performance of the Nutcracker.

You'd already seen a performance with your ballet class but that had been a semi-professional production from the adjoining ballet school for the older pupils.

This was a proper performance though and Alexia gently leads you over to buy some keepsakes for the evening before walking you up into the box seats she'd paid a stupid amount to get on short notice.

"Now," Alexia says as she sits down," I can't seem to remember the story of the Nutcracker. Can my favourite girl in the world explain it to me?"

[aubreyprc]

Par

Emily and Aaron's day keeps going from bad to worse.

And to think, when she woke up that morning her biggest fear was that the team would find out about their relationship.

-x-

Hi friends!!

This fic is a birthday gift for my bestie @aubreyprc! Thank you for continuing to be the most chaotic person I know and for being responsible for a fair number of my hangovers this year. Love you for being the maddest woman in this whole town xoxo

This fic is loosely based on a Bone's episode, and has one of your favourite tropes - a secret relationship, peril and a lot of drama- so I hope you enjoy <3

-x-

Words: 5.2k (I...got really carried away with this one)

Warnings: Canon typical violence

Read over on Ao3, or below the cut

Emily secures her earrings into place as she walks into the kitchen, a smile washing across her face as the smell of coffee and toast meets her. Aaron has his back to her, focusing on her toaster so he makes sure the bread is cooked exactly to her liking, so she walks over and wraps her arms around him from behind. He sinks into her embrace, clearly having heard her coming, the way her high heels had clicked against the hardwood floor giving her away. 

“Good morning,” he says, turning to press a kiss to her forehead. 

“Morning,” she replies, her hand slinking down his back as she shifts to stand next to him, taking the opportunity to stamp a kiss against his lips, “You didn’t have to make me breakfast.” 

He raises an eyebrow at her and smiles, “You say that every morning,” he says, kissing her briefly before he presses the button that releases the toast, “And like I say every morning,” he says, turning so he wraps his arms around her, his hands low on her back, “What kind of boyfriend would I be if I didn’t?” 

She smiles, her tongue pressing against the back of her teeth as she looks up at him through her lashes. She hums as she leans in to kiss him again, “Excellent point.” 

They’d been together for almost a year, the 11 months that had passed since their first date had been the happiest of her life. Since her return from Paris, he’d been the one person who’d expected the least out of her. Everyone else seemed to want her to slip back into her old life, to be the person she’s sure died on that cold hard floor in Boston, and she’d tried. She’d tried so hard to ignore how strange everything felt, how the fear that it could all be torn away from her again was ever present, living under her skin and making her itch in a way that never seemed to shift. Aaron simply wanted her to be honest with him, to tell her when she was having a bad day, a request she now knew came from a place of understanding, their pasts now similar in a way that made her ache. 

She now liked to think, love making her softer than it ever had, that everything they’d been through had led them to this. To the relationship that she knew was it. Every first she had experienced with him also a last for her. A last first kiss, a last first night staying over, a last first I love you. She wanted everything with him. A house they could both call home. Marriage. A couple of kids who would be younger siblings for Jack. 

The only problem was no one else knew about them. 

The secrecy had been practical at first. She’d been home for just over six months when they got together, and they’d been hesitant to rock the boat, to further crack the unsteady foundation the team was slowly building under themselves at the time. Their relationship had grown around the secrecy, making it feel all the more precious because it was just theirs. Only Jack and Jessica knew and Emily knew it couldn’t last forever, that if they wanted to move forward, like she knew they both wanted to, they’d have to let the others in. 

She didn’t remember the last time that they’d spent a night apart. They most most of their time at his place, something about the homely comfort of it, Jack’s belongings strewn everywhere, made her feel safe, but they occasionally stayed at hers. Even Sergio lived at Aaron’s now, his favourite place to sleep was at the end of Jack’s bed, the little boy and the cat fast friends in a way that made her chest bloom with love. 

They’d stayed at hers last night, mostly for practical reasons. She had to go to court to be a witness for the prosecution for two separate cases that had happened to fall on the docket on the same day, so she’d needed to get clothes she usually wouldn’t wear to work. Juries seemed to warm to her a little more if she wore skirts or dresses, something about the lack of sharp edges from her usual suits that made her more likeable. It drove her crazy, and infuriated her that they were more likely to listen to her if she dressed in a certain way, but being aware of it was one of the benefits of her profession. 

It also didn’t hurt that Aaron could never tear his eyes from her legs whenever she wore a dress, his gaze skipping from her ankle to up past her knee, only to linger on the material that hid what he knew lingered beneath. 

She smiles at him as she pulls away from him and pours them a coffee each, her skin burning from where she can feel him staring at her. She turns to look at him and raises an eyebrow, her smile widening when she clears her throat and he jumps slightly, his cheeks going red when he realises he’s been caught. 

“Seen something you like?” She asks, feigning innocence as his eyes meet hers. He shakes his head and steps towards her, his hand skimming her waist as he takes one of the cups of coffee. 

“When I’m looking at you?” He says, looking her up and down again, his stomach flipping at the sight of her seemingly endless legs, on the high heels she only broke out for court and date nights, before he meets her eyes again, “Always.”

She presses her lips together to capture a laugh but she fails, shaking her head at him, “Correct answer, honey.” 

He kisses her cheek and steps away, “Come on, we need to get you fed so you can survive court.” 

Emily grumbles as she sits at the breakfast bar and he slides a plate of toast towards her, “Let’s just hope I don’t die of boredom.” 

___

He always hated it when she wasn’t in the office. 

He loved to look out of the window and see her at her desk, her presence enough to soothe any stress or tension the job could cause him on any given day. Sometimes she’d notice him looking down at her and her eyes would meet his, a sparkle in her smile that he knew was just for him and his son. Other times she’d be stuck in her work, concentrating on paperwork or teasing Derek or Spencer, flashes of who she’d been before Ian had torn through their lives peeking through. He’d loved her then and he loved her now, and he knew he’d love every version of her that would exist in their future together. 

He checks his phone, waiting for Emily to text him to say she was out of her morning session in court, and he sighs as he places it back down when he has no messages from her. He’s about to pick up his pen to continue with his paperwork when there’s a firm knock on his door, a panicked Derek pushing it open before he can tell him to come in.

“Hotch,” he breathes out, his grip on the door so tight Aaron is sure he could tear it from its hinges, “There’s been a shooting at the courthouse.” 

It takes a moment for pieces to slip into place, for him to realise the implication. The realisation forces him to his feet, his hands clasped at his side as he tries to control himself, knowing his girlfriend wouldn’t thank him for revealing their relationship this way. 

“Have we heard from Pren-”

He’s cut off by the ringing of his phone and he grabs it, relief flooding through him when he sees Emily’s name on the screen, a picture of her and Jack his contact photo for her. He answers quickly, his eyes meeting Derek’s as he speaks. 

“Emily, we just heard about the shooting,” he says, hoping Derek doesn’t pick up on the slip-up of using her first name, “What’s happening?”

Any relief Aaron feels is destroyed the moment a stranger responds instead of the woman he loves.

___

She hears him before she sees him. 

He’s loud as he demands to see her, clearly flashing his badge to get past the cordons that had been put in place. She forces a smile on her face as he comes into view, rounding the back of the ambulance she was sitting in with purpose. Her heart aches when she sees how stressed he is, barely concealed fear and panic clear in his eyes, in the tension in his shoulder. 

“Em.” 

“I’m fine, honey,” she says, reaching out and grasping his hand as he climbs into the audience, barely glancing at the paramedic who had been treating her. 

“Fine?” He exclaims, his eyebrows furrowing, “You’re in the back of an ambulance, there was someone here with a gun-”

She cups his face, cutting him off before he can spiral in a way that only she and Jack could draw out of him, “Aaron. I’m fine. I just rolled my ankle, thats all,” she says, nodding towards her now bare feet, her wrapped ankle and her heels neatly next to each other on the floor next to her, “Turns out that those stupid heels I have to wear to court aren’t the thing to dodge bullets in.” He sinks in on himself, her attempt at humour doing nothing to calm him down, and she sighs, “I’m sorry, that was a stupid thing to say.” 

“No,” he says, squeezing her hand tighter, “No you’re never stupid I was just…I was worried that’s all. Especially when I got a call from you and it wasn’t you who answered.” 

“Well,” she says, flicking her gaze to the paramedic, taking some joy out of how he looks away, clearly intimidated by her, “Well I did say I was okay to call you myself, but there are apparently protocols.” 

Aaron smiles softly, her dislike of procedure something that made him fall impossibly more in love with her every time it made itself known. His smile slips away as he thinks about what had happened here today, how he could have lost her in slightly different circumstances. 

“Do…do you think they were aiming for you?” He asks, knowing he’d trust her judgement above all else no matter how she responds. She was trained in this kind of thing well above even him, a level of skill that hadn’t ever made any sense to him until he learnt about her time at Interpol.

The way her face falls, the way she presses her lips together, is all the answer he needs. 

“Yes,” she replies, squeezing his hand, “I think they were.” 

He nods and pulls her into a hug, holding her tightly as he kisses the side of her head, “The rest of the team are back at the office trying to get to the bottom of it. It’s likely connected to one of the cases you were here for today so Garcia is looking into associates for both of the defendants,” he says, “I’m going to take you home so you can rest.”

She rolls her eyes, “Aaron-”

“We’re going back to mine,” he says, leaving no room for argument, “And then the others can update me from there.” 

She wants to argue with him, wants to insist that they go back to the office and figure out what is going on, but she can’t bring herself to. Not when he was looking at her like she could break in two, his grip on her bordering on too tight for the first time since they’d got together. 

“Okay,” she says, cupping his cheek again as she relents, “Okay, but we need to go back to mine first.” 

“Em-”

“Just to pick up some shoes,” she assures him,” her thumb running back and forth on his cheek, “I only have boots at yours, I think I’ll be regulated to sneakers for a couple of weeks.” 

He nods, leaning forward to press his forehead against hers, “Okay,” he closes his eyes and swallows thickly, “I love you.” 

She smiles and moves her hand to the back of his head, tangling her fingers in his hair. She ignores how she can feel the paramedic looking at them, his curious gaze on her back. 

“I love you too,” she replies, kissing him quickly before she pulls back to look at him, “Let’s go home.” 

She lets him fuss over her. 

He hands her a pair of his socks that he keeps in his go bag so she has something on her feet, the thought of putting her heels back on enough to make her grimace. When they get back to her place he wraps his arm tightly around her waist, guiding her to the living room and helping her onto the couch. She grasps onto his jacket and pulls him down to join her, resting her head on his shoulder as she traps him in place. 

“Sit here with me for a minute,” she insists, curling around him, his arm hugged to her chest. She can feel the stiffness in his embrace, how tense he is. He was usually relaxed when it was just the two of them or when they were with Jack, an ease to his frame she hadn’t known he was capable of until she started spending time with him out of work. She presses a kiss to his shoulder, “Are you okay?” 

A laugh catches in his chest and he shakes his head, “You were the one who got hurt,” he replies, “I’m fine.” 

She hums, deciding to let it go for now. She knew him almost better than she knew herself. He needed to work things out by himself, a hangover from years of having to do so. She was the same way, and slowly but surely they were getting better at not needing to turn inwards before they each other help. 

“Have you heard from the team yet?” She asks, running her hand up and down his arm. 

He nods, “They are interviewing both Grisham and Haig,” he says, blowing out a breath, shaking his head at the mention of the men they’d once hunted that she’d been due to give evidence against today, “And their families. We are leaning more towards Haig at the moment, Grisham’s MO was always explosives, if whoever is trying to stop you wanted to make a point that’s what they’d do.” 

She nods in agreement, “Well, I don’t fancy getting blown up so is it weird I’m grateful?” 

He chuckles, his real laugh that never fails to make her heart soar, and he shakes his head at her, “I understand what you mean, so if it’s weird what does that say about us both,” he kisses her temple, “Want something to drink before we head to mine?” 

“I think there’s some Diet Coke in there,” she replies and he smiles and stands up, his hand firm on her thigh.

“There is,” he says as he walks towards her kitchen, “I got some when I did your grocery shopping last week.”

She moans in delight as she turns to look at him, her smile wide as he places his hand on the fridge door, “I knew I love you for a reas-”

She’s cut off as he pulls the fridge door open and he’s thrown backwards, the explosion that tears through her kitchen seemingly happening in slow motion as he hits the ground with force. The sprinklers almost immediately are triggered, soaking her kitchen with water as she jumps up off the couch.

“Aaron?”

He doesn’t respond, his silence only pushing her closer to him, somehow avoiding standing on any the debris that had once been her kitchen counter as she runs over to him, the pain in her ankle not even registering. She lands on her knees by his side and touches him, ignoring the shake in her hands as she turns him just enough to see his face. 

She shakes him and he doesn’t flinch, making panic fill up her chest, making it hard to breathe. 

“Aaron?”

____

She’s barely been at the hospital for an hour when the team arrive, their presence both a comfort and a curse, forcing her to transition into a concerned colleague from a concerned girlfriend. 

“Emily,” Penelope says, sitting down next to her and wrapping her arm around her shoulders, “Are you okay?”

She nods, clearing her throat as she looks at her friends, “Yeah, I was in the living room, Aaron…Hotch took the blast.” 

“What was Hotch doing at yours anyway?” Dave asks her, his hands in his pockets where he stands in front of her. 

“He dropped me home,” she says, looking up at Dave, purposely ignoring the almost smug smile on his face, “He opened the fridge to get me a drink. You know what he’s like,” she says, her focus returning to her hands, “He’s a gentleman through and through.” 

JJ nods, “That’s true enough,” she says, “We’ve shifted our focus onto Grisham because of the explosion.” 

“How’s Hotch doing? What about his hearing?” 

She blows out a breath at Spencer’s question. It had been her first concern too, something she’d mentioned to the doctors when they’d arrived by ambulance. “They said they’d test it, but he did wake up in the ER and he could hear me.” 

It felt ridiculous that one of her first thoughts if he did lose his hearing was that he’d never hear her say she loved him again, or hear the voices of their future children. It was easier to worry about that, about things that may never come to pass, instead of the fact someone could have killed him in their pursuit if killing her. 

“Family of Aaron Hotchner,” A doctor says as he enters the room, cutting off any further conversation. 

“I’m his medical proxy,” Emily answers as she stands up, aware of the team all looking at each other curiously out of the corner of her eye, “Is he okay?” 

“He’s got several cracked ribs, a broken collarbone, and a concussion. He’ll be in a lot of pain for a while, but he’s okay.”

The relief is palpable, her hand on her chest, “Can I see him?” 

The doctor nods, “Of course, I’ll have someone come find you to take you to him in a moment.” 

“Thank you so much,” she replies, blowing out a steady breath as she turns back to the team, unsurprised by the different levels of curiosity painted across their faces. 

“You’re Hotch’s proxy?” Derek asks, his arms crossed over his chest. 

“He’s mine too,” she explains, “We switched it a little while back, so if something happens Jessica and Jack wouldn’t be worried before they need to be.” The half-lie rolls off of her tongue with ease, but she doesn’t have the energy to figure out if they believe her or not. 

Thankfully she isn’t left with enough time to worry about it when a nurse walks into the room to escort her to Aaron’s room. She limps all the down the hallway, the pain in her ankle returning now her adrenaline was disappearing. She thanks the nurse as she steps into Aaron’s room, and she barely hides a gasp when she sees him.

He was covered in bruises, the worst of them peeking out from under this hospital gown and the immobiliser that was holding his arm to his chest to stabilise his collarbone. He had cuts on his face, the largest of which was above his left eyebrow, and his right cheek was bruised. 

“Surely I can’t look that bad,” he quips, and he smiles at her when their eyes meet. She sighs, unsure how they went so quickly from her making jokes about an injury to make him feel better to the other way around. She wanted nothing more than to go back to that morning, to pull him back into bed and cancel their plans for the day. He sighs and lifts his good hand as high as he can, the pain in his ribs meaning he can barely lift it from the bed, “Come here, sweetheart.” 

She walks across the room and sits on the edge of the bed and she wraps both of her hands around his, “I hate today.”

He chuckles and squeezes her hand, “It’s not exactly on my top five list either,” he says, watching how she keeps her gaze on their joint hands, “Are you okay?” 

She laughs dryly, and shakes her head as she looks up at him. She presses her lips together as tears press at the back of her eyes, “I think it was you who said ‘I’m fine it’s you who got hurt’ only a couple of hours ago.” 

He sighs, “Em…” 

She releases one of her hands from around his and wipes a stray tear from her cheek, “You got hurt because of me.”

“I got hurt because someone is trying to get a serial killer out of being tried for his crimes,” he says, smiling softly at her, “It’s not your fault,” 

She wishes she could believe him, that the guilt that was churning in her belly would go away, but instead, she nods and wipes another tear from her cheek, “The team are looking at Grisham in more detail because of the explosion,” she says, “And my kitchen is a mess.” 

Aaron nods, “I don’t want you by yourself tonight,” he says, already sensing her argument, “I mean it, Em. Otherwise, I’ll check myself out of here against medical advice and make sure you aren’t alone.”

He knows he’s playing dirty, that he’s using her love and concern for him against her, but it works, she relents by nodding. 

“Okay,” she says, leaning down to kiss him, “I doubt Derek would have let me go anywhere alone tonight anyway,” she pushes his hair off of his forehead, “Want me to stay until you fall asleep?” 

“Always,” he replies, trying to sit up for a kiss but failing. She smiles and leans down to kiss him, “Since your kitchen has been blown up,” he says as she pulls back, his breath skipping across her skin in a way she’d worried she’d never feel again, “Maybe you should just officially move in with me.” 

She smiles and kisses him once more before she pulls back, “We’ll talk about it once you can sit up straight by yourself, okay?” She says, even though she knows her answer could only ever be yes. 

“Okay,” he replies, leaning back against his pillow, his smile turning sleepy from all the medication in his system, “Love you.”

“You too,” she replies. She stays until he’s fallen asleep, careful when she stands up from the bed so as not to disturb him. She presses a kiss to his forehead before she steps away and leaves the room. She gives herself a moment to lean on the wall, her palm against her forehead as she blows out a breath. “Fuck this has been a long day.” She steps away from the wall as she decides to find the team, ready to leave the hospital for the evening, already mentally counting down the hours until she can come and see Aaron again.

“Agent Prentiss?”

She turns to look at a man in scrubs just to her left. There was something about his face that was familiar, but she couldn’t place it, sure he must have been one of the many nurses they’d encountered in the ER when they arrived, “Yes?”

“There’s just a few more pieces of paperwork I need you to sign.” 

She nods, letting him guide her away from the hallway, towards a more isolated part of the hospital floor. It’s only when she realises they are alone she starts to question it, her usually quick mental reflexes dulled by everything that had happened since she’d woken up that morning. 

“Where are we-”

She’s cut off as a hand goes over her mouth, and a needle goes into her neck. She tries to call out for help, but her head starts to swim and her eyes drift shut, plunging her into darkness.

___

She wakes up quickly, startled as she tries to remember falling asleep. Her arms ache and she looks up to see her hands are cuffed together and hooked over a metal bar above her head, she tries to pull at them, to loosen the shackles but she fails. She tries to push down the panic that being handcuffed stirs in her belly, and she shakes her head in an attempt to physically try and rid her brain of the comparison to when Ian had held her captive.

“You’re not going to get out of them.” 

She turns her head, the movement making her neck ache from the strain in her arms, and is only partially surprised to find the man who she now knew had been impersonating a member of hospital staff.

“You should let me go,” she says calmly, “I’m a federal agent, you’ll be in a lot of trouble for this.” 

He chuckles as he steps towards her, pulling a gun from the waistband of his pants, “You’re very confident for someone who has a gun pointed at them.”

“My team will find you,” she says, proud of herself for the steadiness of her voice, how it doesn’t shake.

He shrugs, “I think they are likely distracted by the other case you were due to talk about today,” he smirks, “The explosion was the perfect decoy.” 

It clicks in her head, why she’d found his face familiar when he approached her at the hospital. He was the brother of Haig, the man she’d spoken against as part of the prosecution’s case that morning. He’d been one of the few people sitting behind Haig in the gallery, his eyes fixed on Emily the entire time she spoke. 

“You’re Haig’s brother,” she says, and he clenches his teeth. 

“His name is Josh.” 

She nods and swallows thickly. He was unravelling in front of her, clearly not having thought any of this through beyond hurting her.

“How did you know about Grisham?” she asks and he laughs at her.

“I used to work for the DA’s office. They laid me off when my brother was arrested. When you arrested him. I still have contacts there who let me know about the other cases.”

“What’s your name?” She asks, trying to calm him down, the shake of his hand making nerves roll through her. 

“Stuart.” 

“Stuart, this isn’t going to help him,” she says, trying to reason with him, the ache in her arms and shoulders turning into pain that burned through her upper body, “This is only going to make things worse.” 

Stuart steps towards her again, his finger over the trigger, “If you don’t talk again tomorrow he won’t go down.” 

“That isn’t true,” she says, sucking in a breath as he steps even closer, the barrel of his gun against her abdomen, “Even if I’m not there, someone else will be called as an expert witness.”

“Who? He sneers, his breath smelling of whiskey and smoke as it washes over her, “Your boyfriend who almost had his face blown off?” 

The door behind them bursts open and Stuart turns, his gun raised and pointed towards it, but he doesn’t have a chance to pull the trigger. A gunshot echoes throughout the room and he falls to the ground, his gun clattering across the metal floor. Emily blows out a breath and looks up, a sound she can’t name catching in her chest as her eyes meet her boyfriend’s. 

The team was behind him, their guns raised, Derek clearly the one who had fired the shot that had taken out Stuart. 

“Aaron,” she breathes out as he walks towards her, clearly in agony with every step he takes towards her. He’s wearing sweatpants and a hoodie, one she’s sure belongs to Derek, and his arm is strapped to his chest under it, “You’re meant to be in hospital.” 

“Like I’d stay there once I found out you were missing,” he says, his eyes flicking up to her cuffed hands. 

He knows he doesn’t have the strength to raise his one good hand to unhook her arms that way, so he ducks under the cuffs and into the circle of her arms, He stands up straight and her arms shift from where she’d been hooked to over his shoulders, and he lowers them both to the ground.

“Are you okay?”

“Are you okay?” 

They speak simultaneously and then they both laugh, which pulls a wince out of Aaron. 

“How about we agree we don’t ask that question until at least the end of the day?” She says, and he nods, resting his forehead against hers as he tries to get his breath back.

“Sounds good to me,” he replies, stamping a kiss against hers.

“How did you figure it out?” She asks and a throat clears from behind them, and she suddenly remembers the team is there too. 

“We watched the CCTV the minute we realised you were missing, Bella,” Dave says, walking over and undoing her cuffs before pocketing his key again. She lets the cuffs fall free and unwraps her arms from around Aaron’s neck but she doesn’t move away, “It didn’t take too long to put together.”

“And you let him check himself out of the hospital?” She asks, her face incredulous as she purposely ignores how Aaron protests next to her. 

“Have you ever tried to argue with him, Princess?” Derek asks, his hands on his hips, “We can’t all get away with it like you do.” 

She groans as he winks knowingly at her and she looks back at her boyfriend and leans in to talk to him, “I think we’re busted.”

He smiles at her, “Sweetheart, I think we were the moment your fridge exploded in my face.” 

“Oh please,” JJ says, rolling her eyes at her friends, “We figured it out the moment Hotch ran out of the bullpen like a bat out of hell this morning when he found out about the shooting.” 

She looks up at her friends with her eyebrow raised in challenge, “Look, we’ll answer all your questions later,” she says, her hand linked with Aarons, “But can you give us a minute?” 

They all nod and Emily is grateful that they know when to push and when not to, and she smiles at Aaron when they back up enough to give them privacy. She leans in and stamps a kiss against his cheek. 

“Thank you for coming to save me,” she says, pushing some of his hair from his face, her fingers tracing over one of the cuts on his forehead. 

“Anytime, sweetheart,” he replies, “Although if we could avoid making a habit out of it when one of my arms is out of action I’d appreciate it.” 

She laughs and presses her forehead against his, “Deal.” She closes her eyes and gives herself a moment to breathe him in, the scent of him lingering under the smell of disinfectant and blood. 

“Em?”

“Yes, honey,” she says as she pulls back to look at him.

“I could really do with going back to the hospital now.” 

-x-

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[puckinghischier]

Tentastrophe

Nico Hischier x Fem!reader

summary: reader and nico are in a secret relationship while on a camping trip together

notes: hi lovies! i got this request from my dear 🏔️ anon so i had to get right on it!! this was so fun to write and even more fun to play out in my head while i was writing it 🤭. also i had no clue what to name it so i quite literally just made up a word 🫣. i hope you enjoy!! happy reading! 🫶🏼

request: We’re camping and my tent ripped, can I please share yours?

[5.1k]

You hated the outdoors. Truly, you despised being outside.

You hated bugs, you were scared of wild animals, you hated the heat, you hated dirt, grass made you itchy, and you really hate the lack of indoor plumbing.

Literally, how do people enjoy spending a week out in the middle of nowhere, no signal for miles, no air conditioning, and eating the same four types of canned food? Not to mention your dislike of sleeping bags.

Who wants to sleep on a flimsy piece of material on the hard ground for days at a time? It’s just simply not appealing.

You continue to list off the things in your head you hate about camping and the outdoors in general while watching yourself be driven farther and farther away from the city through the windshield of Jack’s SUV.

“Oh c’mon, Y/N, don’t look like someone just kicked a puppy in front of you,” you hear from the front seat, Jack looking at you through his rear-view mirror.

You roll your eyes at him.

“Jack, I’m being taken to a remote location against my will with no access to a bathroom or civilization for seven whole days. At least if someone kicked a puppy in front of me, it’d be over sooner.”

“Woah, so you’re advocating for puppy kickers now, are you?” A new voice rings out, this one belonging to Dawson, who occupies the seat against the window beside of you.

“She’s not advocating for it, Dawson, she’s just saying she’d prefer it to being stuck in the woods with you for a week straight,” Holtzy responds from your other side, having been sandwiched between the two in the backseat of Jack’s car for the hour and a half ride to your unfortunate destination.

Dawson reaches behind your head to smack Alex’s. Alex tries to retaliate, and suddenly you have two hockey players trying to fight each other on either side of your body.

“Hey! Cut it out before you hurt Y/N! Coach needs her to get good footage this weekend,” Luke yells at the two forwards.

“Wow, thanks for showing me where my worth lies, Luke,” you deadpan.

Luke flashes you a grin before turning back around in his seat. “You’re welcome.”

You stick your tongue out at him, knowing he’s just teasing you.

When you applied for a marketing internship at the Prudential Center a year ago, you had no idea that you would become so invested in this world. After the initial six month period of your internship was over, you were making plans to find work elsewhere when you were approached by the team’s GM and asked if you were interested in staying on full time as the new social media manager.

You immediately agreed, knowing you had found your passion with working in sports and wanted to stick with it for as long as you could. It didn’t hurt that you had become such good friends with a handful of the players close to your age, four of which were in the same car as you right now.

You and Jack were the closest, though. The two of you bonded over your shared love of country music, a rare find outside of your southern hometown. You had found other interests in common, too, but becoming each other’s country music concert buddy is to credit for much of your friendship.

You grew close to Luke simply because of your proximity to Jack, but found that he’s become a little brother to you. People always assumed there was more than friendship going on between you and Jack, but both of the Hughes boys had become the brothers you never had, no feelings beyond that ever surfacing.

As your job continued to cause you to spend time with the team, you found yourself growing closer to other players as well.

Nico was another player you found yourself talking to long after your work duties were done for the day. Whether it was chatting before practice, pulling him a little too frequently to do interviews or make videos, or grabbing a bite to eat after practice and games because neither one of you wanted to end your conversations, you found the Swiss captain occupying a large chunk of your time both at work and outside of work.

Which doesn’t make it all that surprising that he asked you to be his girlfriend three months ago.

After a huge win over the Islanders at home, the entire team had decided to go out to celebrate. You had caught a ride with Jack that morning, but when you were searching for him so you could leave, he was nowhere to be found, already gone to whatever bar everyone had agreed on.

Nico had stayed behind to do a few extra post-game interviews, so when you bumped into him outside of the locker rooms on your search for Jack, he offered you a ride. You had mentioned how hungry you were, telling him you should probably go home and grab something to eat and change before getting an uber to the bar, but Nico had pulled into the first late-night diner he saw after you mentioned your lack of eating dinner.

The two of you sat in the 50’s themed diner for hours, ignoring all the calls and texts asking where you were and why you didn’t come out to celebrate. You didn’t even realize how late it was until you received a text from Jack, asking that you call him when you got up so he knew you made it home safe, apologizing for forgetting you at the arena.

Nico walked you up to your apartment after driving you home that night, despite the fact it was after three in the morning and they had a mid-day practice the next day. You still don’t know if it was the high of winning or the late hour, but he decided to kiss you at your doorstep that night. Three days later, he asked you to be his girlfriend because he told you he couldn’t stand not being exclusive with you for a second longer.

No one knew, though. You kept on acting as if nothing had changed at work, and no one caught on otherwise. You decided it was fun to keep it to yourselves, enjoying being each other’s secret. You didn’t know the policy on dating your coworkers, either, so you didn’t want to risk anything by outing the relationship this early.

You felt bad lying and sneaking around Jack and Luke, especially, but you’ll tell them eventually. You enjoyed having no eyes on you, your relationship being simply between you and Nico right now. When you tell your friends and the rest of the team, it’ll be out there for good. Fans will find out, your boss will find out, and then your small bubble of Nico will burst.

That’s another reason you dread this weekend. Not only do you just hate camping and being outside for long periods of time, you’re going to be stuck being around Nico for a week straight with no chance to be his girlfriend instead of his coworker.

The trip is the team’s pre-season bonding activity, so you’re tagging along to capture material for future videos and pictures for the various social media pages and website. You had tried to send one of the other members of your media team, not thrilled at the idea of a camping retreat, but the head coach had requested you, specifically, because of your ability to convince the players to participate in various trends and videos.

You owe some of that to Nico, of course. After the two of you formed a friendship, he started telling his teammates they had to participate in whatever silly tasks you asked of them or he’d start reporting them to coach for making your job harder. Since his forceful request, you rarely had to fight to get any of the players to do the latest trending dance, or answer silly questions as they get on the ice before practice.

Unfortunately for you, this means the higher ups see your success and suddenly you’re volunteered to do things like this. And really, what kind of social media content can you create when you won’t even have cell service?

Tuning back into your surroundings, you notice you’re almost to the campground you’ll call home this week. You were so lost in your own head that you barely even noticed the four (grown) men in this car with you singing loudly to the F.U.N. song from none other than Spongebob Squarepants.

Jack and Luke were duetting the song, Jack taking the sponge’s part and Luke singing Plankton’s lines. Dawson and Alex were simply adding harmonies.

You were in for a long week.

———————————————————————————

“Who in their right mind would put a twenty-four year old teenage girl in charge of putting together her own tent?” you whine out as Curtis walks over to see you trying to read the directions for putting together the tent laid out in front of you.

“Honey, I think you’re a little too old to be calling yourself a teenage girl,” he chuckles as he kneels beside you, taking the instructions out of your hands.

“I’m just a girl, Lazar. I will always be a teenage girl at my core, no matter what age I am. Therefore, I’m a twenty-four year old teenage girl. And I’m extremely incapable of building a fucking tent,” you cry out, crossing your arms and huffing.

Curtis just shakes his head and laughs, grabbing the rods that go inside of the tent to give it structure, putting it together for you.

You sit back and watch, trying to help where you can, but ultimately being reverted back to the role of ‘holding the flashlight for dad’, but instead you’re ‘holding the mallet for Curtis’.

Halfway through putting your tent up, you see Nico start walking in your direction. You admire your boyfriend, his tan skin showing due to his green t-shirt being stuck in the pocket of his athletic shorts instead of on his torso. His black hat sits backwards on his head, hiding what you’re sure is sweaty hair. His favorite pair of sunglasses rest on his nose.

“Already making the guys do your dirty work, how dare you, Y/N,” Nico teases as he stops to stand in front of where you’re sitting on the ground.

“Listen, one perk of being a woman in sports is the fact that I’m always surrounded by men just waiting to save the damsel in distress,” you put your hand across your forehead to hide the sun from your eyes, squinting your eyes as you look up at him.

He rolls his eyes at you, flashing you a smile.

“Need any help, Curtis?” Nico calls out, but keeps his eyes on you.

“I think I’m nearly done, but if you want to start hammering the stakes in the ground that’d be great,” Curtis replies, not even looking up from the tent that had now taken shape.

“Sure thing. The mallet, please,” he reaches his hand out to you.

You hand Nico the mallet, looking up at him with an amused grin. “Get to it, time to do manly stuff and go pound on something .”

You start to stand and Nico shoots his other hand out for you to grab onto, helping you heave yourself off the ground.

Once you’re stood in front of Nico, he pulls your hand toward him so you’re standing dangerously close to him, your chests nearly touching. You look around, making sure no one sees the position the two of you are in right now.

Nico leans down, lips grazing your ear as he whispers “Unless you want me to drag you behind a tree and do extremely un-coworker type things to you with the entire team right here, I suggest you don’t talk about pounding anymore this weekend.”

A shiver makes it way down your spine as Nico steps back, walking over to where Curtis is now standing, turning to face the two of you.

You hope he assumes the redness on your face is because of the warm sun, and not because his captain just threatened to do R rated things to you behind a tree.

Ten minutes later, your tent is fully assembled and you’re blowing up your air mattress with a battery powered pump that’s seen better days.

Jack had laughed at your for bringing an air mattress, claiming it’s not really camping if you don’t sleep in a sleeping bag. You told him you refused to sleep on the ground with just a thin bag underneath you for the whole week. If you had to be here, you were going to make yourself as comfortable as you could.

You even brought a battery powered fan to sit in front of your bed incase you got hot at night, but you learned very quickly that even though it’s hot and humid during the day, the night is chilly and dark.

After everyone had settled in and the sun had set, Timo had managed to start a fire, placing hot dogs on a small grate he placed next to the fire while Jesper worked on opening cans of various types of vegetables to heat along side the sausages.

You laughed to yourself, knowing the team nutritionist would develop an eye twitch seeing what foods will be consumed by the players this week. The amount of sodium and carbs in the containers of food for the week were definitely not in line with the meal plan.

Finding a spot next to Jack, you go sit on one of the various logs around the fire, needing the heat to warm your chilled skin. Music played out of a speaker sitting on the picnic table behind the logs, one of your favorite country songs filling the space.

“Nice choice, it’s one of my favorites,” you nudge Jack’s shoulder as you sat down, assuming he had control of the music.

“Yeah it’s a good one, but don’t look at me. Cap’s the one with the aux right now,” he says, pointing to where Nico is standing by a tree, red solo cup in his hand.

You turn your head and make eye contact with him, his eyes having already found you. The raise of his cup and tilt of his head telling you he played this song specifically for you. Your face heats and you smile at the ground, trying to keep the grin from stretching too wide, not wanting to raise suspicion from the brunette to your right.

“Y’know, I wonder why Cap has any country music in his playlist at all, because last I checked, his phone was full of rap and Swiss music and he told me country was his least favorite genre,” Jack starts, leaning closer so you can hear him over the music and chatter. “But then I remembered, I see you and him talking an awful lot after practice, before practice, and everywhere in-between.” You feel like someone has dumped a bucket of ice water on your head, worried Jack’s figured the two of you out. “You’re not cheating on your music buddy, are you?” he asks, looking at you suspiciously.

Relief washes over you. He just thinks you’re sharing music with Nico. Not that you’re seeing Nico behind everyone’s back.

“I might have mentioned a few good artists to him. But don’t worry, concerts are still reserved for you,” you bump his shoulder again.

“Mhmmm. Must have taken a lot of convincing to make a rap loving Swiss man convert to Zach Bryan,” Jack hums, still looking at you suspiciously.

“Just a few links sent is all,” you tell him, noticing he’s just staring at you. “What?” you ask, leaning back a bit.

“Nothing,” Jack shakes his head, his eyes gleaming with an idea. “Just thinking…have you ever thought about going out with Cap?”

You choke on air. You try to recover with a cough, claiming you swallowed the wrong way. “What, what do you mean?”

“You know, like you and Cap. Going on a date. Dating. I think you two would be good together. You guys already seem friendly enough, and he’s a great guy. Plus, I can see the way you look at him, Y/N. You definitely have a crush on the guy,” Jack teases.

You start laughing. Jack is confused by your reaction, not thinking his suggestion was funny at all, but you can’t stop the laughs from escaping.

“Oh, Jack. You’re funny,” you tell him once you calm yourself down. “That’s nice, but nah. I don’t think Nico and I should go there. Too many things could go wrong, y’know? Plus, who even knows if I’m allowed to date any of you guys. Workplace romances are frowned upon in most jobs, you know.”

“Okay, it wasn’t that comical of a suggestion. I was being serious, I think you guys would be great together. To hell with the rules. I can tell when two people are into each other,” Jack says with a hint of annoyance, not appreciating your little laughing outburst.

A look of surprise makes its way onto your face at his comment that he thinks Nico is into you, too. Maybe the two of you weren’t doing such a good job at acting normal around the team. You succeed at suppressing the laughter this time, figuring a second outburst would really make Jack upset. “Oh, you think he’s into me, do you?”

Jack looks at you like you just asked him if the sky was blue.

“Are you kidding me? Y/N, he literally jumps at the chance to be in any of your tik tok videos and he threatened the whole team so they would quit, and I quote, ‘making your job harder and just fucking do what you ask’ or he’d report us to coach.”

You can’t help but giggle this time, of course knowing all of this, Nico having told you himself after he did it, but you can’t let Jack know that.

“I don’t know, Jack, that doesn’t exactly sound like something he’d do. What does he get out of it? More interruptions during practice? More attention on social media? Doesn’t sound like Nico if you ask me,” you tell him, trying to play dumb.

“Oh, I don’t know, maybe he gets to spend more time with you. He gets on your good side, helps make your job easier while making ours harder. Earns brownie points to butter you up so you say yes to a date one of these days,” Jack leans his head towards yours, looking up at you like he’s just proven his point.

You steal a glance over at Nico, his head cocked, silently asking what you and Jack are talking about. You shake your head with a smile, telling him its unimportant with the roll of your eyes.

“I don’t know, Jack. We’ll see, I guess,” you sing song, earning a sigh from the boy to your right.

“You’re hopeless, both of you. I need another beer,” he gets up, leaving you on the bench by yourself, chuckling at just how right your best friend is.

After all of the burnt hot dogs and lukewarm veggies were eaten, it was time to for everyone to retire to their tents.

All of the players had to double up on tents, you and the coach being the only two people with their own. The players that were sharing tents on this trip would be sharing hotel rooms all season, so the bonding began with them being able to exist in the same space for an extended period of time.

Your tent sat about 50 feet from Jack and Luke’s. Nico’s tent was in the row of tents in front of yours, three tents separating the two of you.

You quickly made your way to your own tent and started getting ready for bed. Not being able to wash your face or do you proper skincare routine, you settled for brushing your teeth with a warm bottle of water and applying lotion to your face before crawling into your make-shift bed for the week. You hadn’t packed nearly enough blankets, seeing as you assumed it would be warm inside your tent, but you were chilled to the bone. You kept your sweatshirt on, opting for a pair of sweatpants instead of the skimpy sleeping shorts you brought.

You settled into your bed, switching off the small lantern you had been provided.

You laid there for what felt like ages trying to fall asleep. Every little snap of a twig or rustle of leaves made you scared a bear was about to claw its way through your tent.

You thought you had imagined it at first, assuming the wind was blowing and causing your tent to slightly ruffle in the wind. But when it happened a second time, this time the sound of something fiddling with the zipper of your tent following the ruffling, you were starting to panic.

You sat up, pulling the blanket to your chin as you saw a hand push on the door of your tent, a quiet yelp making its way out of you.

“Shhh, it’s just me, let me in,” you hear the familiar, accented voice of your boyfriend ring out, huffing while walking over and unzipping your tent just enough for him to slip through.

You walk back over to your air mattress, turning on the small lantern, looking at Nico standing in the middle of your tent. He was wearing a tan sherpa fleece with plaid pajama bottoms. He had to hunch over slightly, his height being too tall for your small tent.

“What the hell are you doing in here? You scared the hell out of me, you know that?” you whisper yelled at him, careful to not raise your voice too high as to not wake any of his teammates.

“My tent ripped, can I please share yours?” Nico asks with a smirk on his face.

“Oh, yeah? If your tent ripped then where’s Jesper sleeping, huh?” you raise your eyebrow and cross your arms.

“I just left him to fend for himself. Didn’t exactly want to invite him to sleep in here with us. Never know what he might see,” he walks towards you, placing his arms around your waist and pulling you close to him.

He looks down at you, your position mirroring earlier when this exact tent was being assembled, but you had no fear of anyone seeing you now.

“Hi, Schatz.”

You giggle up at him, unraveling your arms and placing them on his shoulders. “Hi Neeks.”

“I’ve been waiting all day to do this,” he mumbles before bringing his face down to yours.

You lean up on your tip toes to meet his lips, sighing contently into the kiss.

Nico pulls you closer, no space left between your bodies as his sucks your bottom lip into his mouth. You tangle your fingers in his hair, pushing against him into the kiss.

His tongue swipes across your lips, asking for entrance, and who are you to deny his wish? His tongue slips into your mouth, effectively deepening the kiss.

Nico walks you backwards until you plop down onto your air mattress, bringing his knee to rest in-between your legs, his forearms on either side of your head to support his weight.

You tug on his hair slightly, earning a groan in response. He starts grinding his pelvis against your thigh, which was your sign to stop this before it got too out of hand.

You pull back, pushing him up off of you slightly. He looks down at you with blown pupils and swollen lips. “Alright, tiger, slow down. We’re not having sex with several tents full of your entire team a few feet away.”

Nico deflates and brings his forehead to rest against your shoulder. “You couldn’t have told me that before I got a stiffie?”

“Sorry, shouldn’t have let yourself get so worked up. Should’ve known I wasn’t going to go there with this many people around,” you laugh at his whiney tone.

He rolls off of you onto his back, slinging his arm over his eyes.

“What are you doing? Quit being so dramatic,” you roll your eyes, trying to grab his arm and remove it from his face.

“Stop, trying to think of sad puppies to make my boner go away,” he swats your hand off of his arm.

You bust out laughing for the second time tonight, but this time you throw a hand over your mouth to stop the noise. The conversation about puppies in the car on the way here earlier making its way to your mind, making you laugh even harder.

“Okay, I think I’m good now,” Nico finally says, sitting up.

“Good. Don’t even think about getting handsy, either. This,” you gesture between you and Nico, “is not happening tonight. Or any night this week, for that matter.”

“Got it. You don’t want any of my teammates to hear you scream my name while my tongue is ins-“ you slap a hand over Nico’s mouth, not letting him finish that sentence.

His eyes shine with amusement at you, seeing your own wide in surprise. “Can I trust you to take my hand off of your mouth?” you ask him.

Nico shakes his head, but not before he darts his tongue out and licks a stripe up the palm of your hand, causing it to fly off of his mouth.

“Okay, you’re disgusting,” you scold him, wiping you hand on the blanket you’re both sitting on top of.

Nico just laughs at you in response, finding your annoyed expression amusing.

“C’mon, let’s go to bed. I’m already sick of you and the week hasn’t even started yet,” you tell him, pulling the blanket back so you can settle under it.

Nico follows your lead and places himself under the blanket at well, pulling your body close to his.

You lay your head on one end of your pillow while Nico places his on the other end, not having brought his own from his tent. The two of you just lay there facing each other for awhile before you remember to reach over and turn off the lantern once again.

You’re appreciative of the new warmth Nico brings to your bed, finally feeling yourself get sleepy.

“Wait, how are you going to know when to wake up before everyone else and go back to your tent?” you ask him, knowing his phone was in his vehicle, none of the players allowed their devices with them. You and coach were the only ones with phone privileges this week, even though they didn’t even work out here.

“Don’t worry, I will. First time I wake up I’ll sneak out, don’t worry,” he assures you, kissing you on the forehead before pulling your body flush to his, resting his chin on the top of your head.

Neither one of you must have woken up at all during the night, though, because when you wake up the next morning to the screams of “I knew it! I knew they were into each other! I told you so!” from your best friend as he stood inside your tent at the end of your bed with not only Luke, but with half of the team standing outside the wide open door of your tent, you were confused until you felt the weight of a body against yours. You open your eyes to see Nico’s scrunched face, the noise waking him up as well.

You both roll over and open your eyes, noticing your audience.

“I called it! I knew there was something going on here! How long have you two been together?” Jack bombards the two of you with questions despite you having literally just woke up.

“Get the hell out of this tent before I get coach to make everyone run three miles today,” Nico grumbles, his voice gravely from the early hour.

“No way, we need an explanation,” Dawson speaks this time, his expression matching Jack’s pleased one.

“You’ll get your explanation, but for right now, get out. Let us actually wake up without fifty people in our fucking tent. Now go, get out,” Nico pulls you closer to him, hiding your face in his chest and slinging a leg over your own.

“But-“ Jack starts again, but Nico removes an arm from around you and points at the door, “OUT!” he says sternly, his captain voice making an appearance.

The group of men start grumbling, but ultimately leaving your tent, zipping your door back up so you and Nico could have a bit of privacy again.

“Nico, you didn’t wake up,” you say, your voice muffled because of how close he’s holding you to his body.

“Sorry, Schatz. Was sleeping too good, I guess. Always happens when I’m sleeping with you. You’re like my own personal melatonin.”

You chuckle at him, not really mad that everyone found out, just wishing they hadn’t found you asleep together on a tiny air mattress.

“At least the boys know now. Now I don’t have to keep sneaking around at practice. I can stare at your ass loud and proud now,” Nico says, detaching himself from you and rolling over onto his back, rubbing his eyes.

You reach over and hit him in the chest. “This doesn’t give you permission to say innapropriate things to me while we’re at work.”

He rolls his head to look over at you, “Wouldn’t dream of it,” he smiles innocently, causing your to roll your own eyes and sigh at him.

“Hey! You guys better not be having sex in there! I’m implementing a no bone zone when I’m within a hundred feet of you two! Get your asses out here and get to explaining!” you heard Jack shout once again, beating his fist on the side of the tent.

You bring your hands up to cover your face, embarrassment flooding your veins.

“Jack! Suit up, you’re coming with me on a little run,” you hear coach shout, earning a “Shit, Nico this is your fault!” from Jack.

You burst into a fit of giggles.

You can’t help but feel like a weight has been lifted off of your chest, not having to lie to some of your closest friends anymore. You also foresee your week of no time with Nico changing slightly, figuring Jesper will be down a roommate for the remainder of the week.

Nothing, though, not even sharing a tent with Nico, or sneaking off to find open areas to gaze at the stars at night, could make you like camping.

You almost change your mind the night Nico takes you to a clearing, laying a blanket on the soft grass to stare up at the sky before he gifts you a necklace with his initial on it, the engraving on the back echoing the small “I love you” he whispers in your ear as he clasps the jewelry onto your neck.

You almost thought you liked camping then, until you walked back to you tent to find Nico had left it unzipped and a possum had made a home in the corner, hissing at him as you screamed loud enough to wake the whole team.

Yeah, you hate camping.

[hamilando]

ੈ✩ where the heart is (smau) ੈ✩

pairing : george russell x adopted! hamilton reader

summary: a move will test where the heart lies

tw : fluff

fc : jasmine tookes

a/n : thank you so much to @josephqunnies for suggesting this ! lysm 🫶🏻

·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ･ ✩ ･ﾟ ･ﾟ·:｡･ﾟﾟ

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell, alexandramieux and 1,302,498 others

ynhamilton ending 24 with blings *:･ﾟ✧*:･ﾟ✧

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user1 ma’am just came to serve looks

user2 is everything ok with george? HE IS WEARING A SHIRT !?

user3 george literally said I ain’t leaving the hamiltons

lewishamilton mum said that you need to learn to smile 😃

ynhamilton you could never get a picture as perfect as mine 😗

user4 if they fight like this in the comments

user5 don’t even imagine real life

georgerussell stop buying ferrrari merch

ynhamilton my brother is in ferrari?

georgerussell your lover is still in mercedes ?

ynhamilton yeah yeah, our kids will support mercedes

alexandrasaintmieux ma’am, can you contact me to your stylist !?

ynhamilton you have my number bbg 😍

user6 the fashion genes do run in the family I guess

liked by lewishamilton, georgerussell, user1, user2 and 2,378,297 others

ynhamilton Wrong Direction ˘͈ᵕ˘͈

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landonorris album drop when ?

landonorris saving me money 💰

ynhamilton McLaren not paying you ?

oscarpiastri he probably spent it on his late night escapades

landonorris for god's sake, THIS IS THE MAIN ACCOUNT !?

maxverstappen1 waiting for my fifth

ynhamilton waiting for the eighth and first

georgerussell you remember me ?

ynhamilton I remember toto 🫶🏻

alexandrasaintmieux can’t wait to go explore Monaco !!

ynhamilton I have George’s and lewis’s cards ready

georgerussell I am going round on track and debt

francolapinto you should come to argentina!

ynhamilton are you inviting ?

francolapinto is it you are asking ?

georgerussell stop flirting with an old lady

ynhamilton glad to know that this OLD LADY still has her charms 😊

liked by georgerussell, landonorris, lewishamilton and 1,267,297 others

ynhamilton keeping up with the hamiltons and a russell

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lewishamilton what’s with your obsession with reality shows !?

ynhamilton just like your obsession with your clothes

lewishamilton for god’s sake, either stop posting me on your feed, or post a better picture

ynhamilton no, DEAR BROTHER

georgerussell another day of being the side chick

ynhamilton hey! at least you are in the show !?

charlesleclerc which streaming platform ?

ynhamilton f1tv 🫦

charlesleclerc I mean if you plan to seduce them and get it there …?

georgerussell I AM STILL ALIVE !

georgerussell NOT YET DEAD FROM MY CRASHES !

ynhamilton oh, don't need that when you have got a seven time works champion

liked by user1, user2, user3, user4 and 372,487 others

f1wags With the recent move of her brother to ferrari, will Y/N Hamilton and George Russell’s relationship be affected ?

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user1 that’s a low blow man

user2 tbh, I don’t think so, she is Lewis’s adopted sibling, so I doubt she will support him that much

user3 seriously !? adopted ?

user4 adopted or not, they are still siblings

user5 I don’t think we should speculate someone’s relationship just based on a move

user6 not like he is moving away from the paddock!

user7 but y/n won’t be around both at the same time ?

user8 this is going to be messy

user9 I hope she dates Charles

user10 bruh, what about Alex ?

liked by lewishamilton, charlesleclerc, maxverstappen1 and 2,376,378 others

ynhamilton guess the heart stays with Mercedes

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lewishamilton guess I need to see your face every day

charlesleclerc George, please don't make your wedding photos include that pose of yours

georgerussell its not that bad now

landinorris FREE BOOZE

ynhamilton you guys are forgetting to congratulate me ..?

alexandrasaintmieux OMGGGG, WEDDING IN THE HOUSE 🤭

maxverstappen1 congrats y/n and George !!

liked by ynhamilton, georgerussell, landonorris and 4,287,270 others

lewishamilton You were just 2 when you came waddling in our house, I kept on asking mum if she really had to get you home. I would always tease you that they picked you up from the dustbin and I would laugh seeing you cry but thank you for the number of scars on my knees and elbows, dipping my face in jam and drawing doodles on my helmets. Thank you for always putting my needs above yours, sacrificing your school trips and prom dresses just so dad could afford my karting. I am grateful that you have found a soulmate in a man like George, who I know will go poles to keep you happy. I am proud of you and will always love you, my little sister from the dustbin. ❤️

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[flkwh0re]

Guilty Pleasure

Warnings: Mommy kink, Degrading, Praising, Use of the word "slut”, Strap-on usage (R receiving), Overstimulation (Kinda), Dumbification, After care

Word Count: 1,562

Authors Note: You have to imagine pre-death, endgame Natasha for this because that's who I thought of. (totally not my girlfriend who's totally not the one that made me wanna write this.)

Your sex life with Natasha was very vanilla, sickeningly vanilla. Hours of fantasies of woman had curated in your head over the span of your relationship with her. You knew if you brought it up with her she wouldn't judge you at all for wanting to spice things up, but still something had stopped you time and time again, when it came to talking to her about the matter.

Today you determined to talk with her, you made her favorite meal, set the table oh so beautifully, dressed up, and then it led you to where you sat now. All dolled up at the dining table waiting for your wife to return home from a days work as an Avenger.

As thoughts of the woman filled your mind, they were interrupted by the sound of keys fumbling with the lock. "Sweetheart, I'm home!" Natasha shouted as she stepped through the door, her tone going softer as she noticed your presence at the table. "Well hello, sweet girl. What's all this?" She giggled.

"I made your favorite food Natty." You said cheerfully, as you stood to greet your wife with a kiss. "Did you murder someone?" She asked half jokingly. "No I only wanted to treat you." You lied. "That's very sweet of you dear, thank you." She placed a soft kiss on your lips, before walking off to take her shoes off.

"Let me go change into some comfier clothes, then I'll be right back." She said, earning a small nod of your head from you. You nervously made your way back to the table, sitting down, and making sure everything was perfect in the process.

"I'm back!" Nat walked in, a tight black shirt hugging her body perfectly, along with her grey sweatpants, causing you to lick your lips discreetly.

"Baby, this food is wonderful, but I have to ask... is there some special occasion I'm missing?" Natasha asked with the raise of her brow. "No, I actually just wanted to discuss something with you." Natasha's expression seemed to have a little worry, which you quickly shut that down.

"I've been thinking a lot recently, about you, us. I-" You paused for a moment, trying to find the words as to not seem so desperate even though you very much were. "I've been wanting to spice up our sex life recently. I know that sounds really stupid, because I love what you give me and I don't want to seem like I'm not satisfied with you, I just want to try new things." You rambled on before Natasha stopped you.

"Baby, that's it's not stupid. I've been thinking the same. Though I didn't have plans to make such a big amazing meal to ask." She joked, making you laugh. "Why don't we try tonight? Tell me what you want baby." Blush crept on your cheeks as you thought back to all the things you've thought about.

"Well, I've really wanted to try out that strap we bought, and I don't want to be gentle all the time. I want you to be rougher with me, and... I think I want to call you mommy." A small groan came from Natasha at your confession. "I also want you to use harsher names for me, degrading words."

Without saying a word, Natasha tore you from your seat and brought you to your room. She pushed you back onto the bed, her lips colliding with yours. Your tongue tangled with her, and your hands found place in her hair. "Are you sure you want this? I want you to feel comfortable with me." You nod, "Please Nat, I need this."

She smirked, "Is that what you call me?" Your expression was one of confusion, until you got what she meant. "Mommy.." Natasha smiled, "What a smart girl you are."

She removed herself from the spot on top of you, rummaging around for the strap she'd kept stored for so long. "Take off your clothes while I get this on, sweetheart." The name Nat had used on you many of times, now felt completely different.

Once your clothes were off you waited patiently at the edge of the bed for Natasha to attach the harness to her hips. "There we go, can you lay back for mommy, baby?" You scooted your body back as you laid down for her.

Her soft hands gripped your thighs spreading them apart. "God you're so wet, all this just from telling me about your fantasies. Why don't you tell me more pretty girl?" You felt embarrassed to admit something that you'd found a guilty pleasure in doing, but to be honest the embarrassment made you all the more excited.

"I like thinking about being on top of you, struggling to keep getting myself off on you without your help. Or having you tell me to keep taking you." Natasha tugged her lip between her teeth, concealing the moan she almost let escape, because of your confession.

"My god, who knew my wife was such a slut." She said, watching closely for your reaction to the word. Your face was a mix of shock and enjoyment, the whimper that came from you told her all she needed to know.

"Let mommy fuck this pretty, wet pussy." Her lips connected with yours, as the tip of the toy collided with your pussy. She slowly slipped it in you, as to not hurt you. Though it didn't really matter, you'd not be spared from her upcoming assault.

Small whimpers came from you as she stretched you out. "Mommy, it hurts." Your hands hastily gripped onto her shoulders, "Shh take it like a good girl, can you do that for mommy?" You nod.

Natasha's pace quickly fastened, her hips snapping against yours. You weren't sure how long you'd be able to hold your orgasm due to the pleasure you were feeling. "M-mommy, it feels s'good." Natasha smiled at your messy pronunciation of such simple words. "Keep that pretty little mouth shut, let me do all the work. Don't you think a thought unless it's about me."

After a while of your current acts, Natasha knew you were close. "Don't cum yet, hold it." You whined, "Mm I can't, feels s'good." Suddenly you were flipped to where you sat upon Natasha's lap, her hands resting on your hips.

"If you're gonna act like a needy little slut, you're gonna have to earn to cum like one." Your puzzled, disappointed eyes almost made Nat give in. "Cmon get to work."

Your weak legs tried their best to lift your body, trying your hardest to get your high. Natasha's lips came in contact with your neck, licking and sucking tender spots. leaving small purple blemishes on your skin.

Her tongue grazed your hardened nipples softly, before sucking harshly on the bud. Your nails dug into her shoulders, and your head lolled next to hers. Your lips parted next to her, small whimpers and gasp filled her ears.

"Cmon baby you can do better than this, can't you? Or are you such a dumbed down whore that you need mommy to take control, hm?" Her words honestly made you even more dumb, you couldn't even respond but just moan. "That's not an answer, if you want something you have to use your words baby."

After a bit, you were able to gather the strength to get more than just whimpers out. "Pl-please, mommy. I need you, can't cum without mommy." She smiled, "What a good girl you are! Now relax baby, let mommy take over." Her thrust up into you filled a much needed gap of pleasure, and your struggled finally paid off.

It didn't take much effort to finally get you to cum, and when you did it was like no orgasm before. You felt as if you were floating on clouds, and that you could reach out and grab the stars that blurred your vision.

Before you knew it, you were waking up to Natasha running a hot bath for you. "Hey sweetheart, how are you feeling?" She asked as she pushed your ruffled, sweaty hair off your forehead. "'M tired." You said honestly.

"Well let me get you all cleaned up, then we'll get you into bed." She said as she gently scooped you up and carried you to the warm bath, which consisted of Natasha washing your hair for you which you loved, her gently cleaning your sweat slicked body with a soft cloth and your favorite soap.

She helped hold you steady as she got you out of the tub, and got you fresh new pajamas on. "There we go sweetheart, now let's get you into bed."

She laid down, then pulled you into her arms. Wrapping them gently around your tired body, placing a soft kiss on your forehead. Your head shifted down to play upon her chest, the sound of her heart beat relaxing you even more.

"You did so good for me sweet girl." She whispered softly to you. "Thank you, mommy." She smiled at you still using the titled for her, which she was sure you weren't even aware you had used it, and you weren't.

Not before long, you had dozed off. Natasha gently rubbed your back as she watched, whatever she had playing on the tv. The acts of earlier replaying through her mind.

MASTERLIST

[tongue-like-a-razor]

Brother's Best Friend - Part 11

Jake Seresin x F!Reader

A/N: Fair warning: I didn't have much time this week so this was a bit rushed and definitely not my best piece of work, but I really wanted to do at least *something* for the holidays!

Summary: The trials and tribulations of falling for your brother's best friend.

CW: New Years Eve party, banter, fluff fluff fluff

WC: ~2300

Part 1 | Masterlist

“So,” Bradley starts slowly, drawing out a suspenseful silence with a smirk as he butters his toast. “I met study group guy.”

You look up from your plate in alarm, your fork halfway to your mouth, and awkwardly meet your brother’s gaze.

Jake, who’s just set his food down to your left, picks his coffee back up, ready to make a quick exit.

“Uh, where?” you ask, trying to sound casual, but you’re so nervous that your voice wavers.

“Here,” Bradley replies with a grin as he makes his way to the table. “He came by to see how your exam went.”

“Oh?” You gulp anxiously.

“How considerate of him,” Jake notes moodily, setting his coffee back down and giving you a look.

“I agree.” Bradley sits down. “I think he wanted to compare study strategies,” he continues, then clears his throat. “Since the two of you didn’t end up studying together.”

Jake’s eyes go wide as he lets out a feigned gasp. “You didn’t?”

You give Jake an annoyed look and then glance back at your brother who is watching you with a pair of raised eyebrows. “Yeah,” you nod, “about that. Umm, the thing is…”

“You lied?” Jake brings a hand to his chest as though this revelation continues to shock him.

You glare at him irritably. “Partly.”

“Which part?” Bradley enquires, biting into his toast.

You sigh. “The part about study group guy.”

Bradley grimaces. “Why?”

“Yeah,” Jake chimes in, finally taking a seat. “Why?”

“Because I obviously made the wrong decision studying at home,” you retort, eyeing Jake bitterly. “And I just needed somebody to blame.”

Jake watches you cautiously, likely wondering if you indeed think you’ve made a mistake. Good.

“So, you bombed your midterm, big deal.” Bradley waves a hand. “We wouldn’t judge you. Guess that means he won’t be attending tonight’s party.”

You purse your lips. “Nope,” you confirm. “I’ll be all alone.”

Jake tries to catch your gaze as you rise from the table. “We’ll be here.”

“Aren’t you gonna bring your girl?” Bradley asks.

“Nah.” Jake waves a hand.

“Why not?”

Jake eyes you pointedly. “Not really sure where we stand, to be honest.”

You gasp theatrically. “Oh dear! Trouble in paradise?”

Jake throws you a flat look and grumbles, “Well, she’s sort of hard to read at times.”

“Because you’re illiterate?” you retort.

Bradley snorts while Jake scoffs in offence. “Dump her!” Bradley cries as you bring your dishes to the sink. “Life’s too short for mysteries.”

Jake sighs. “She does love to keep me guessing.”

Bradley shakes his head in disapproval after taking his last bite. “She’s playing games with you, man. It’s not worth it.” He gets up and follows you to the sink. “How ‘bout you? You need a date for tonight?”

“Huh?” you say in surprise, having been under the impression that your turn under the microscope was over.

“Remember that dude you met at the Hard Deck last summer? The one you said was ‘so hot’” – Bradley visibly shudders – “I just found out that he’s into you.”

“What dude?” Jake asks abruptly, his posture instantly going rigid.

“The one from 22,” Bradley clarifies. “The backseater. Forgot his name.”

“The douche from Michigan?” Jake makes a face and quickly rises from the table. “You think he’s hot?” he asks you incredulously.

Before you have a chance to respond, Bradley continues. “Apparently he ran into you last week at the café?”

You blink between Bradley and Jake as the latter approaches. While it’s true that you saw one of Bradley’s colleagues the previous week, you’ve since forgotten all about that encounter, because the very next day was when Jake had finally made his move. You start to back out of the kitchen but both Bradley and Jake follow you out. “I have some errands to run,” you say quickly.

“Nothing’s open,” Jake reminds you.

“Do you want me to invite him tonight or not?” Bradley asks, already scrolling through his contacts.

Jake elbows Bradley aggressively. “You’re seriously trying to get your sister laid?”

Bradley cringes. “Dude! Don’t go there!”

Jake stares at Bradley. “What do you think is gonna happen?”

You scoff at Jake incredulously. “Excuse me?”

Jake turns to look at you and places his hands on his hips with an impatient exhale. “I didn’t mean it like that.”

“I just don’t want her to be alone on New Years!” Bradley exclaims, still looking down at his phone.

“She’s not gonna be!” Jake cries desperately.

“I don’t want the date, Bradley,” you say, putting on your shoes despite having absolutely nowhere to go.

“Why not?” Bradley enquires.

“I just don’t. I’m fine with being alone.”

“You won’t be alone,” Jake repeats, the frustration in his voice noticeably mounting.

“I thought you liked him,” Bradley says, slightly deflated. Clearly, he assumed that he was doing you a favor.

“I don’t even know him,” you say. “I just thought he was good-looking, that’s all.”

Jake makes a face. “He’s not.”

You roll your eyes. “Appearance is subjective.”

Jake stubbornly shakes his head but makes no further comment.

“Okay, so why not give him a chance?” Bradley presses. “It’s not like you’re seeing someone. Right?”

You give Jake a quick glance before conducting a thorough examination of your own shoes. “Well, kind of.”

“Kind of?” Jake asks, slightly panicked.

You continue studying your feet. “I think.”

“Who is he? What’s he like?” Bradley asks.

“Uh,” you stall, “he’s alright.”

Jake lets out a muffled cry. “Alright?” he asks and you try not to wince at his utterly obvious outrage.

Meanwhile, Bradley raises an eyebrow. “Wow,” he says wryly. “Sounds promising.”

“What else?” Jake says quickly.

You look up at him in disbelief. “Occasionally aggravating.”

Bradley appears puzzled. “Why are you with this guy?”

Jake squares his shoulders. “He must be extremely handsome.”

Bradley looks back at you. “Is he?”

You roll your eyes. “He’s cute.”

“Cute?!” Jake exclaims.

Bradley laughs. “I really think you should give my guy a try.”

Jake crosses his arms over his chest and stands up taller. “I’m sure there’s more to this guy than just… his looks.” He’s blatantly searching your face now, as if Bradley isn’t even present.

You start to nervously fix your hair in the mirror at the front door. “I’m not interested in your guy, Bradley.”

“Why not?”

“Because…” You sigh resignedly while Jake watches your reflection. “I… I like my guy.”

Jake stares at your face in the mirror as if this is news to him. Then, his mouth slips momentarily into a smile before he sucks in his cheeks to hide it.

Bradley grimaces. “Why?”

“Because, he’s…” another reluctant sigh, “…he’s a good guy.”

“That’s kind of vague,” Jake comments, still trying to suppress a grin.

You shoot him a glare while Bradley chuckles. Then, he says, “Alright, fine. Maybe in a couple of weeks when you’re single again.”

Jake looks at Bradley sharply. “Why would she be single again?”

“Come on, when was the last time my sister liked a guy enough to stay with him long-term? She finds something wrong with everyone she dates.”

Jake shifts his weight uncomfortably. “Maybe this one will stick.”

“Doubt it.” Bradley shrugs.

“This one’s different, Bradley,” you say quietly, turning to face them again.

Jake looks back at you. “He is?”

“How so?” Bradley asks.

You pause, hesitant to reveal the truth. “He… makes me feel…”

Bradley watches you dubiously. “Pretty?”

Jake also takes a stab: “Aroused?”

You let out a weary sigh and lock eyes with Jake. “Safe.”

He stares at you with a stunned expression while Bradley nods approvingly.

“Happy,” you continue.

This time, Jake doesn’t hide his smile, but Bradley raises his eyebrows as though your response has surprised him.

“Strong,” you say.

“Wow,” Bradley mutters.

Jake lowers his gaze with a grin, but you decide to add, “And aroused, I mean –”

“Oh god!” Bradley exclaims.

Jake chuckles, glancing up at you again.

Bradley shakes his head. “I get it, you’re in love. But, Seresin – I just remembered: I’ve got the perfect girl for you!” He holds up his phone, beaming.

…

Bradley decides to invite the perfect girl just in case because he can see how much his dear friend has suffered at the hands of his mysterious lover. And the perfect girl just happens to be Jake Seresin’s exact type. You try to ignore her flirtatious behavior while Bradley all but pushes Jake in her direction. Your brother seems so keen to set Jake up, you start to wonder what his vested interest might be.

There are enough people in attendance that you can watch Jake without worrying about anyone noticing that you’re staring. So, you pour yourself a fourth martini and head back into the living room to see what your brother’s best friend is up to. You barely make it past the couch, however, when someone you’ve only met once in your life takes your hand and starts encouraging you to spin under his arm.

You glance over at Jake, whose date is also trying to get him to dance. Taking a sizeable gulp of your drink, you follow through with the spin and smile uncomfortably at your new dance partner. The room is bustling because the ball is about to drop and everyone has gathered for the countdown, so you’re forced to crane your neck every so often in order to check on Jake.

He notices your new friend right away, locking eyes with you despite his own supposed date trying to monopolize his attention. You wish you could steal a moment with him when the new year arrives, but Bradley would notice his friend’s absence in a heartbeat considering he’s been tailing Jake all night, making sure that he was having a good time.

When the champagne flutes start making their rounds and the crowd erupts in an enthusiastic countdown, however, Jake separates from his friends and starts making his way through the bodies toward you. He nods his head in the direction of the hall before he’s even come near you, inviting you to join him. But you glance back at Bradley and see that he is already searching for Jake in the crowd that’s suddenly doubled in size as everyone has made their way into the living room.

You shake your head at Jake regrettably. The last thing you need is for the year to start with Bradley walking in on the two of you making out.

Jake gestures more vigorously with his head, urging you to follow and, when you refuse, he moves closer and reaches out to grab your hand. You don’t resist when he pulls you in and, before you can check to see if Bradley has finally given up his search, the clock strikes midnight, and Jake takes your face in his hands and kisses you right there in the middle of the living room amidst the explosion of cheers that welcome the new year.

You hope there is enough commotion in your vicinity to obscure the way Jake’s hands slide sensually down to your neck and then take your shoulders as he steers you through the crowd out of the room, his lips avidly devouring yours the entire time. Somehow, the two of you make it out without even looking up and, once you’re more or less alone, Jake mutters, “Your brother is getting real fucking annoying.”

You chuckle as he plants kisses along your jawline. The two of you are still moving through the house, into the darkness of the entry hall. “He’s been extra involved today,” you agree.

“He’s been fucking annoying,” Jake repeats, sucking on the side of your neck as you come to a halt in the foyer and he wraps his arms around you.

“He’s your best friend,” you remind him.

Jake presses you gently against the front door and licks your earlobe, whispering, “Who the fuck were you dancing with?” You giggle and feel his lips spread into a smile against your skin. “Oh, you think that’s funny?” he asks, and you feel his tongue on your ear again. “You think it’s funny that I had to actively restrain myself from socking him?”

“What about you?” you say, still laughing. “You were with that girl all night!”

Jake whimpers into your neck and his hold on you tightens. “All I wanted was this.” You close your eyes when his mouth finds yours once more. “My new year’s resolution is that I’m never gonna stop kissing you,” he mutters between pecks to your lips.

You giggle again and then sigh, slightly pushing him away. “What are we going to do?”

“I just told you what I’m going to do,” he says, going in for another kiss.

You turn your head and he ends up kissing your cheek. “This is how we’re going to spend the new year? Sneaking around? Hiding in dark corners?”

Jake exhales slowly, resting his forehead on your temple. “I’m going to tell him,” he assures you.

“What are you going to tell him?” you ask, hoping that this question might lead Jake to reveal the nature of your relationship as he sees it.

He leans away from you and looks you in the eye. “That I make you feel aroused, of course.” Your jaw drops in outrage and you let out a yelp that quickly turns into a cackle. Jake is grinning widely, pleased with the effectiveness of his joke. Then, he draws you closer and his face changes shape. He squares his jaw and you see the evidence of a nervous gulp in the bob of his Adam’s apple. “I’m gonna tell him that you’re the girl I told him about,” he says, his tone low but steady. You gaze at him in silence, afraid to move a muscle lest he reconsider the sudden sincerity of his words. “The one I can’t stop talking about.” He swallows again. “The one I’ve been obsessing over.” He pauses to study your reaction as though he’s afraid he might be scaring you off. “The one that I – uh” – he takes a deep breath and then lets out a chuckle, shaking his head. He takes your hands in his and weaves his fingers through yours, tugging you forward until his lips connect with the tip of your nose. “Oh god, Baby B,” he says, leaning into you affectionately. “I should probably stop talking now.”

*That's all folks! Happy New Year!*

Read Part 12

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[fangisms]

summertime at the burrow

A/N: i want to be an honorary weasley please im literally begging. notice me molly weasley

Pairings: Best Friend!Fred Weasley x Fem!Reader

Summary: Fred finally invites his best friend home over summer holiday. Neither of you expected it to go so well. 3.7k words.

Warnings: fluff, best friends to lovers, ungodly amount of shenanigans, friendly bullying/teasing, mud wrestling, kissing, (friendly) violence, pet names (trouble, snookums, sugarplum, sweetheart), cursing, borderline frog abuse

"Good morning, trouble."

You hop into the seat next to him that he’d been saving for you. In fact, he’d been saving it for you since the first time you plopped down beside him after the sorting hat declared your house first year. You laughed when he shook your hand. He thought you had the cutest smile. Then you teased him for his devilish charm and he called you catty, and you’ve been teasing each other ever since.

"Are you packed and ready?” He sounds more worried than that time he nearly shattered his collar bone during a vicious Quidditch scrimmage. “We're leaving bright and early tomorrow. Mum says she's preparing a hearty lunch for our guests." Fred scarfs down the rest of his breakfast and turns to look at you to find you're looking back at him in bewilderment.

"Somebody's excited," you tease, ruffling his fiery locks and glancing over at George with a grin.

"If you think this is bad, you should see him before winter holidays," George huffs.

“I have.”

Fred rolls his eyes at you and you jab him in the side.

"Where are the lot of you off to?" Lee perks up from across the table, setting his plate down and wiggling his way between Alicia and Angelina.

"I finally got my honorary invite to the Weasley burrow this summer," you chirp, wrapping your arm over Fred's shoulders and leaning him into your side.

Lee cocks a brow and smirks at a suddenly and uncharacteristically shy Fred. "Well, it's about time! You've only been dating for—"

You shake your head. "No, not dating, Lee. I swear we've been over this—"

"Oh, we've been over it plenty. I just choose to ignore wicked witches when they lie—!"

You practically leap across the table with your teeth gritted to grab for his robes when you're stopped by the laughing twins holding you back from tearing into him. "Lee Jordan, you take that back right now, or so help me your mother will wonder why your hair's gone purple!"

"I'm not going to apologize for being lied to!"

"Let me at him! I'm trying to defend my honor here!"

"Miss—young lady!”—McGonagall appears behind you, sending you into shock and barreling back onto the bench—“Settle down! You're frightening the first years, and we typically prefer they come back in the fall."

"Apologies, professor, I was simply trying to have a friendly discussion with my classmate," you say, gesturing to Lee who smiles begrudgingly.

"Right, well, from now on, let's have our discussions from across the furniture, not on top of it." She wanders away, and you turn to stick your tongue out at Lee who is doubled-over and cackling at your being caught.

“I hope you know, we’re going to receive the same third-degree from my dear mother,” Fred mumbles in your ear. His heart races when you turn to him, a playful glint in your eye. You blink sweetly and rest your hand on his knee when he tucks his arm around your lower back. “But don’t worry, sugarplum, it’s never too late to try.”

He winks. Your eyes go wide, and you shove at his shoulder with a chuckle disguised by a scoff.

“Scabbers not the only rat in the Weasley family, I see.”

“That is exactly what I’m talking about, there’s no way you two are just friends—”

A slice of ham sticks to Lee’s cheek with a cold, wet slap as you eye him from across the table.

“Don’t listen to him, snookums, he just doesn’t understand our complicated arrangement,” Fred says, nudging your cheek with his nose and holding back laughter.

“Gross,” George mutters, grinning before he’s met with the same lunchmeat backhand his friend so rudely received. “Suppose I could’ve predicted that one.”

…

You wipe the sweat from your brow, slinging your carry-on over your shoulder before bending down to pick up your trunk. You’re trailing behind most of the rest of the group, just a few steps behind the twins while their younger siblings charge ahead through the field with Harry and Hermione. Fred checks in with you every couple of meters, making sure you don’t need any serious medical attention.

Once the twins breach the front door, you take a seat outside on your trunk, fanning yourself with your hand and throwing your head back. Then you hear:

“Fred, you better get out there and help that poor girl with her things!”

“Sorry, mum!”

You chuckle when he appears in the doorway moments later, winded as ever, hair plastered to his forehead, and still grinning wildly as he jogs over.

“What’s a lovely young lady like yourself doing outside all alone on such an unbearably hot afternoon?”

“Sweating like swine.”

“Ravishing,” he teases, shooing you off the suitcase, “head inside, mum’s absolutely itching to meet you.”

So you do. You can see her welcoming her children and their friends alike, and it fills you with the warmth of fresh gingerbread and the nerves of a teenage boy during school dance season.

“My dear!” she coos, arms outstretched even though a thin year of sweat coats every inch of your body, even though you’ve been wearing these clothes for a day, and even though you’re breathing heavy like a dog. She’s got her arms outstretched like you’re family.

“I’ve heard so much about you from Fred, and, goodness, you’re even prettier than he said you’d be!” —She gasps when he walks through the door, hauling your trunk in tow—“Don’t tell him I told you.”

“It’s been five minutes and you two are already sharing secrets about me. Only seven more days, Freddie,” he mumbles, setting the trunk down with a thud.

“Oh, well! It’s wonderful to finally meet you, dear, Ginny will show you to your room and lunch will be ready once you’re all settled!”

“Thank you, Mrs Weasley—”

“Oh, none of that, call me Molly.”

Your brows knit when she smiles at you so gently before making her way back to the kitchen.

“Thank you, Molly!”

Fred hops up from where he’d been relaxing on an armchair, clapping you on the arm with a reassuring smile.

“Everything processing alright up there?”

You nod.

“Peachy. Now give me a smile, you’re scaring me.”

You squint at him and pinch his arm, simpering when he hisses and swats your dry-gulching fingers away.

“That’ll do!”

“We’re up this way,” Ginny chirps as she rushes by and tugs you by the hand up the stairs.

Fred watches after you, rubbing his arm with a mean look on his face just before his playful resentment fades and his affections settle into the apples of his cheeks. This is going to be a long seven days.

…

Fred had never invited anyone to stay at the burrow. He preferred the company of his close family and whoever his mother deemed Weasley-enough herself. But he’d been saving this invitation. It stewed in the back of his mind for years before he mustered up the courage to offer it to you.

Ridiculous. That’s how it sounded in his head: ridiculous. If he wanted to ask you, he should have done it at the first chance. That’s what Fred would do. But he could never bring himself to get the words out whenever he swore to himself today would be the day. Because you’d just look at him with those damned doe eyes—you’d test his boundaries and make him all gushy inside—and it was like he was suddenly turned to a tongue-tied and pathetic halfwit.

And now here you are. An unofficial part of his family. But nevertheless a part of it. You’d found the annual Weasley strawberry-picking trip to be wonderful despite Fred pulling cheap pranks on you and the fact that it was basically sweltering outside. When you returned, you all spread out in the family room with bowls of the dewy berries in each of your laps. Everyone claimed a seat while you and Fred were forced to share the hardwood floor. You ended up tossing the small fruits into each other’s mouths with your legs laid across his thighs.

At one point, he lands one of the berries down your blouse. Almost immediately, he starts to laugh, clutching his chest while you gawk at him.

“You better start running, trouble.”

He gulps and scampers to his feet before scurrying out the front door. You take off after him, shouting curses into the wind when he rounds a corner.

You follow his footsteps but he’s nowhere to be seen.

“I swear, if I ever get my hands on you—”

He grabs your waist from behind you, dipping down to whisper in your ear. “You can put your hands on me whenever you’d like, sugarplum—”

“Merlin’s Beard, Fred! You scared the shit out of me!”

You jolt away, and he thinks you look genuinely angry this time. But he smiles and your features soften. Then you’re after him again, bounding into the tall grass with an uproar of laughter.

…

You spend the next few days of your vacation trying to beat Ron at chess then deciding it may be better if you and Harry team up to try and beat Ron at chess. You also take Ginny and Hermione shopping while the gaggle of boys trail behind the three of you grumbling and whining about missing their beloved Quidditch game.

You offer to help Molly with every meal, and she only accepts once you convince her your desserts are a crowd favorite back home. She’s proud to say she’s impressed, and she grows even prouder when you admit you adore big families like hers and see at least two kids of your own in your future.

Arthur takes a liking to you after you listen to him rave about the kind of items muggles use day-to-day and how fascinating their modern technology has become in recent years. He’s thrilled to find you actually take interest in his tinkering and collections and whatnot.

But most of all, you spend your time at the burrow with Fred. He steals you away after meals and keeps you up late to teach you his favorite charms. One overcurious evening finds you two perched together on the bathroom floor whispering and giggling while you brush a bold smokey-eye onto his eyelids. Let’s just say dinner that night was nothing short of hilarious: a look that Fred will never live down.

On the fifth morning, you jostle him awake. He whines about the sun not even being up yet while you drag him down the steps and shove your socked feet into an extra pair of rubber boots.

“What’s the bucket for?” he whispers, traipsing down the path along the side of the house when you stop dead in your tracks.

“Shh!” You press your gloved finger to his lips. A chorus of croaks erupts from the marsh beside the house. Nothing out of the ordinary for Fred, in fact that sound had often soothed him to sleep. But there’s a dangerous glint in your eye that tells him you’re on a mission.

“Can’t we do this when the sun is up? It’s cold and I’m tired—”

“The faster we catch ‘em, the faster we can go back to bed,” you whisper as your boot sinks into the edge of the muddy body of water. He sighs and sinks in next to you with his hands on his hips.

“I can’t believe you’ve convinced me to do this. You’re lucky you’re so pretty or you’d never get away with anything.”

You purse your lips and wade a little further out, looking out at the cooly rippling water beneath the sliver of sunrise.

“Yes, I would,” you say, quietly but so matter-of-fact he’s inclined to believe you.

Just then you spring into action, shoveling a small frog into your bucket with a victorious grunt. A few minutes later, he shuffled over to you and lowers his cupped palms into your bucket: three more frogs settle down into the center with a wet plop. You beam up at him, and it’s worth the early morning trouble to see you so happy and have you so close.

“So what do you plan on doing with these poor creatures once we’re done?”

You sit on the bank of the waterbed, sighing and setting the bucket beside you. He watches you from the water while you examine the small blob of darkness in the center of your palm. The bottom of the bucket is lined with croaking frogs, and the sun is well above the horizon, dousing the sky in soft pink and warm rose.

“I’m going to let them go.”

He lets out a sharp breath, hands falling to his sides, leaving streaks of mud down his tee shirt.

“You’re joking.”

You look up at him. You’re not joking.

“No,” he huffs. “You did not drag me out of my nice, warm bed to catch a million slimy frogs in the freezing cold dark just to let them go again.”

“Oh, but I did.” You’re crazy, he thinks. You’re crazy and it’s the most adorable thing he’s ever seen. Doesn’t make you any less crazy, though it might make him much less sane.

You set the frog down in the grass and leave the bucket tipped over. The small creatures immediately flood out from the splotchy tin opening into the newborn daylight and the crisp morning air. You stand and wipe your hands against each other a few times, scrunching your nose and finally meeting his eyes again.

“What’s wrong, trouble? Cat got your tongue?”

You grin.

“You know, one of these days, I’m going to say ‘no’ to you, and it’ll be a rude awakening.”

Fred walks past you like he’s really mad. Like it was an uncrossable line and you treated it like the tape at the end of a marathon. He’s hulking back towards the house when you grab his wrist to get his attention.

“What?”

But you don’t look sad. You don’t look pitiful or hurt. You look like you’re scheming, and it drives him crazy. As if he could ever say ‘no’ to you.

“You think I’m pretty,” you coo, batting your lashes just to get on his nerves. His breath hitches, and he feels warm despite the nipping cold of the morning.

“Unrelated.”

You drop his hand and cross your arms over your chest with a pout. He continues leisurely toward the burrow, tossing his gloves to the ground with a huff of hot air.

“Fred?” you call. And you sound worried, so he’s compelled to whip around. But when he does, he’s met with a rude awakening.

It was a misstep. A silly mistake, the wrong footing. Easily avoidable, and yet he didn’t avoid it. So he’s ass-first into a mud puddle with you shrieking in laughter about a meter away.

“You’re awful,” he grumbles, both hands propping him up and seeping into the thick mud as seconds tick by.

“I’m sorry! Freddie, I’m so sorry,” you cackle, taking a few steps toward him with tears of joy in your eyes. “But you should have seen your face!”

“Help me up,” he says, shaking his head and wiping his hand down his pajama pants before holding it outstretched to you. You grab it and tug enough to leverage him out of the muck. But he doesn’t budge. And in that moment, your eyes are filled with fear. Then, with one jolt, you topple down into the mud right beside him.

“Fred!”

“An eye for an eye, sugarplum.”

You push yourself up onto your hands to find your entire front is caked in mud, the mess narrowly avoiding your chin and above.

“You’re going to pay for that.”

“Oh, bring it on,” Fred teases.

You smirk just before a handful of mud is smeared across his chest by your slippery glove.

“Your move, trouble.”

He shakes his head and chuckles, looking down at the abstract art work fondly. But not quite fondly enough to hold himself back. His fingers dig into the puddle determinedly just before patting the top of your head with it like a stray dog. You squint your eyes closed and groan before peeking one eye open and coating his cheek in mud.

You make it to your feet and Fred hurls a ball of mud at your ass but he misses and it lands in the grass in front of you. You bolt around the back of the house, but he hurls a hunk towards your shoulder blade. You yelp and shout at him:

“You’re supposed to be a gentleman!”

“I’ll show you a gentleman, sweetheart,” he hollers it just before he catches up to you. You squeal and nearly slip on a slick patch of grass, but before you can leap out of his reach, he grabs your upper arm and presses you against the tree just behind your back.

“That’s not playing fair, Freddie, I’ve got nowhere to run,” you say, breathlessly grasping at the edge of his shirt with a tired smile. He chuckles and plants one palm against the bark beside your head, bringing the other hand to cup the side of your neck.

“You don’t need to run anywhere,” he mumbles, “just stay here.” The dried mud on the pad of his thumb draws a swipe of dirt down your cheek. Your fingers curl around his wrist and your lips part sweetly when he leans in.

“Time to come inside, you two! Breakfast is ready!”

Your eyes go wide when he leans his forehead against the tree with a grumbled curse.

“I suppose I am quite peckish!” you chirp, dragging him along behind you all the way to the front door. You leave your boots and gloves outside and brush some of the dried dirt from your pajamas.

You sit across from him at breakfast and catch him stealing glances at you every so often. With a mouth full of food, you wink at him with a dirt-smeared face and almost make him spit out his juice when you kick him under the table. George teases the two of you about wrestling in the mud while Molly scolds Fred about tracking it into the house.

…

Before long, you’re facing the final night of your stay. You’d been dreading the end since the beginning, and now that it’s here, you’re heartbroken. It’s been nothing but fun and you’ve never felt so wonderfully vulnerable with so many people around.

But the thing you’ll miss most is Fred. He could sense you pulling away the last couple of days. Trying to shield yourself from the impact of reality. No matter how hard he tried to cheer you up, he knew nothing could stop you thinking about how much packing up and leaving would hurt.

With your things splayed out across the floor of your temporary room, you had started packing hours ago but kept finding ways to distract yourself and avoid the idea of leaving altogether.

“Need any help?” Fred knocks on the doorframe, leaned against it and wearing the blue jumper you once told him he looked best in. You smile up at him from the floor.

“No,” you huff, “but some company would be nice.”

He perks up and shuffles around your belongings to plant himself on the edge of the bed. You had made the bed up nicely, tucked the duvet and set the pillows out nicely. He told you you didn’t have to, but you did it anyways.

After a few minutes of folding and refolding the same shirt, you stand from the floor and join him on the bed. He’s leaned back onto his elbows when he nudges your foot with his. You nudge him back but don’t turn to look at him. So he sits up and bumps you with his shoulder.

“I’m going to miss you,” he says, fussing with the edge of your shorts to distract himself, “Being here, I mean. As a part of our family.”

You smile down at his fiddling fingertips and inch closer, looking at him with this half-sad, half-happy look that has him confused and hopeless and head over heels and confused.

“I had a really, really nice time,” you whisper, leaning your head onto his shoulder and letting your eyes drift closed.

“So…”

You chuckle and smile to yourself, “So…?”

You sit up when the floor rattles a little, a thudding coming from the room below you. Then George shouts.

“Get it over with already!”

You both look at each other and giggle. Fred leans back again and you watch him tilt his head back and let out a sigh. His chest rises and falls beneath that damned blue sweater, and you trace your fingertips over his knuckles. He lifts his head and smiles cheekily at you, like he knows what’s going on inside your head. Like he has any idea. And for once, you think he might be pretty close.

You practically tackle him to the bed, smiling against his mouth when he cradles your face in one hand and rests the other on your waist where your shirt had ridden up from the ruckus.

You pepper soft kisses over his blushing face, leaving faintly glossy lip prints on his cheeks and nose and forehead and a stray one on the column of his neck. He goes slack against the bed, satisfied and content and happy all because of you. But still, he lazily opens his eyes and grins mischievously and says:

“Took you long enough.”

You smack your hand against his chest just hard enough to warn him.

“Oh, you’re trouble, Weasley.”

He cups your hand against his warm chest and his smile ebbs from mischief to something not as easily recognized. Something that makes him shy and pink thanks to the girl who likes the freckles across the bridge of his nose in the summer and his hands even when they’re covered in mud. Love that makes him much less sane for the girl who might just be crazy for loving him back.

And all of it makes him hold your hand and lean up to kiss you one more time.

masterlist

[redflagshipwriter]

Red Hot Ghouls chapter 11 2/2

Masterpost

He leaned back a little.

There was a very strange silence. Jack’s face initially turned to fury, then a shocked contemplation. Jason waited it out and wondered if he was going to get in trouble for shooting a civilian in genuine self defense.

“Son.” Jack’s voice was grave. “You’re not Jeremy Waters, are you?”

It took a moment to parse through the immediate offense that this guy had busted his cover and to actually register the full name.

Oh, fuck. That Jeremy? The cult guy? Jason made a face involuntarily. “I am not,” he admitted. Oof. Fuck. Here it goes. “I lied because I wanted to be sure you would meet with me.”

“...Honey!” Jack shouted. He shot up in an alarmingly fast motion for such a big man. “Uh, change of plans! Why don’t you get what we all drink on movie nights?”

Something broke in the other room. “Oh, dear,” said Dr. Fenton. “Just a moment.” A vacuum started up. What the actual fuck was going on in there?

“You thought I was that creep?” Jason said blankly. “What were you going to do?” What sounded like a high pressure hose started up in the other room. He had to deliberately decide not to hunch his shoulders defensively. Jesus fucking christ. They were definitely mad scientists.

Jack Fenton looked shifty. “...Talk,” he tried.

Jason looked at the older man. He didn’t say anything. Jack gradually began to look sheepish but he didn’t break.

“Don't worry about it, honey,” Madeleine Fenton said. She set down three alarmingly green glasses and gave him a close-lipped smile.

Jason was very much going to worry about it. He looked between the two of them.

“Melon soda!” Jack Fenton cheered, obviously overreacting to get out of the conversation. He put both his hands up in the air and then grabbed at his glass. “Yummy! So good for growing young men, drink up.” He laughed awkwardly and then buried his face in his own drink.

Meanwhile, Dr. Madeline Fenton looked at him with catlike consideration. She clearly wanted to see him drink the soda.

He was pretty sure they'd been planning to get rid of Jeremy Waters, permanently. Mixed feelings on that, since Waters clearly sucked. He’d human trafficked Jason to the afterlife, after all. On the other hand, you can’t assume someone is chill when you know they want to kill someone. “No thank you,” he said to the melon soda, stomach a little queasy. Even if Jack was drinking it. And the glasses were identical.

“That’s fair,” Dr. Fenton said and sank into the couch cushion next to her husband. “So, you were interested in learning about the Ghost Zone and the afterlife?” She exchanged a meaningful look with her husband. “Any… particular reason?”

These people were intense when they goggled at a guy.

“Nothing I’m ready to talk about yet,” he evaded. It had the advantage of being true. He didn’t know how Jack made him yet.

They proceeded to have a somewhat tense conversation where the Fentons happily elaborated on all their current research and repeated, “I’m sorry, but we’ve withdrawn that work and won’t discuss it,” whenever he mentioned a publication from before 5 years ago. They’d even gone and gotten a lot of their stuff redacted. They talked and talked until Jason’s throat was hoarse. The Drs. Fenton were a brick wall on those topics that he couldn’t bust or wheedle past.

‘What does a person who posts about ghosts on their family blog think to redact?’ Jason wondered.

Eventually, Jack held up both hands. “It’s bothering me that you won’t drink anything,” he admitted. “Let’s go the Nasty!”

“Good idea, honey,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She stood and swung keys around her finger. “I’ll drive!”

Jack Fenton let out a dramatic “Awww, honey bunches,” and followed her around wheedling for a chance to get behind the wheel.

“No, we don’t want to scare our guest.” Dr. Fenton was immovable. A bit ominous as well.

Jason thought about pointing out that he hadn’t agreed to come with them, but he stood up anyways. It wasn’t like he could just sit on their couch and watch them leave their own house.

He had his first inkling of how badly he’d initially fucked up on that phone call when they got outside. Jack pulled the canvas off the family van with a flourish to reveal an absolutely horrific mural of Danny the ghost king giving gifts to humanity. There was text explaining his generosity, scrolling across the bottom of the van.

Jason stood stock still in horror.

The van gave off the same general impression as psychedelic howling wolf print art.

Jason put a hand over his mouth and tried to process it.

Danny’s white hair floated nobly across a few more feet than Jason was pretty sure it should. He was also kinda built in this painting compared to reality and he looked more… kingly. Not that Danny wasn’t in shape, but he was built more like Dr. Fenton than Jack Fenton, if that made sense.

Wait. Why’d he made that comparison? That should have been a frame of reference for Danny Fenton, not Danny the ghost king. …Was the ghost king basing his form off the Fenton’s kid?

“Come on, son!” Jack slapped him on the back. The force was enough to jar Jason forward and out of his dissociative state.

He moved numbly. ‘Alright, they like Danny king,’ Jason managed to think through the wound to his artistic soul. ‘I can be honest with them about the problem. They’ll want to help him get a spiritual separation from some sketchy guy who lied to them.’

They took him to a mid-tier burger restaurant with weird pretensions. The burge had both garlic aioli and shitty neon nacho cheese sauce on it. Jason picked at it for a while, disturbed and pleased by the unexpected combination.

They got back into their discussion. The next time a Fenton asked him a question, he cleared his throat and put down what was left of his burger. “I asked about Phantom because I’m in a little bit of trouble with him.”

It was weird to call him Phantom when he’d introduced himself as Danny. On the other hand, the Fentons also had a kid named Danny, so it was probably for the best.

Jack’s smile faltered. “What kind of trouble, sport?”

Jason shifted in his chair. “I uh. I may have gotten in Waters’ way. I didn’t know who he was,” he admitted. “Next thing I knew, I was in this green place?” He made a confused hand gesture. “Few minutes later, Phantom shows up, kinda pissy, asked if I did it on purpose, and then says that Waters basically.” He stopped to clear his throat. “Spiritually married us to each other.” His voice got a bit smaller than he meant it to.

That meant there was no audio competition for the loud crack when Madeline Fenton broke the table.

“Jesus fuck,” Jason said, looking at her with wide eyes. “Is your hand-”

She put her elbows on top of the tabletop that still existed and cupped her chin on her palms. “Tell me more.”

“You’re a handsome boy, aren’t you,” said Jack consideringly. “Maddie, honeybunches, d’you know, I was thinking about tracking down the Wishiewish ghostie again today. D’you think-”

“Oh, he should absolutely come with you,” Dr. Fenton agreed. She was beaming. It… did not feel villainous.

‘Why did telling them that make her less scary all of a sudden?’

“What do you like about Phantom? Do you think he’s cute? Was he nice to you?”

Maybe she was just a romantic.

[liliwritin]

"WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!" - E.W

- Summary: Y/n appears with a hickey on her neck, Ellie is pissed, and Y/n's breasts are beautiful.

- A/N: HAPPY NEW YEAR!! This is really short but I liked it lol

Men, leave our lesbians alone!

"Oh my God, he's so cute!" Y/n says feeling the baby lay on her neck and "bite" with his gums.

"He liked you Y/n." Maria says smiling seeing the baby totally at ease with the young woman.

"Yes, maybe I'll quit patrols and start taking care of the children." Y/n says jokingly.

"Ellie would like that, she goes crazy every time you go out on patrol without her."

"I hate it when she goes on patrol without me too." Y/n says smiling and patting the baby's back.

"By the way, you two can come over for dinner tonight, Joel is coming too."

"Oh, that's awesome Maria, thank you."

"I better get going, Ellie should be home by now, I'll talk to her about dinner." The young woman hands the baby to Maria.

"Be careful on the streets, dear, I'll see you tonight." Y/n smiles and leaves, humming, heading towards her house with Ellie.

"Ellie?" Y/n says taking off her sneakers and placing them next to her girlfriend's converse.

"In the kitchen!" Y/n smiles and goes towards the voice.

"Maria invited us to have dinner with them, Joel is going too." She says arriving in the kitchen, and seeing Ellie with her back turned washing some dishes that were in the sink.

"Really? Do you want-WHAT THE FUCK IS THIS?!"

"What?! What the hell happened?!" S/n says, already taking out her gun and looking behind her for danger.

"What the fuck is this Y/n?" Ellie says approaching her and looking terrified at her neck.

"What?" Y/n says practically motionless.

"Are you cheating on me?" This makes Y/n's eyes almost pop out of her head.

"Why would you say something like that?!"

"You have a fucking hickey on your neck!"

"What? That's definitely yours Ellie." Y/n says Putting the gun back and with her hand on her neck, going to the bathroom where there is a mirror.

"No, that's not mine, that wasn't there this morning." Ellie says following her girlfriend to the bathroom and almost crying.

Y/n looks at her neck in the mirror, and sees that there really is a hickey there.

"Ellie, I didn't cheat on you, trust me.

"There's a fucking hickey on your neck, how am I supposed to believe it?" Y/n stands there speechless, looking at her neck in the mirror and trying to understand where that came from.

Until suddenly she smells vomit and her eyes widen.

"Ellie... it was the baby!" She says going to her girlfriend and holding her by the shoulders.

"You're fucking crazy." Ellie says in disbelief.

"No, it was the baby I was holding, Maria saw." Y/n says taking off her shirt almost too quickly.

"No no no, if you think seeing your beautiful breasts will make me forget this, you are very wrong-" Ellie is interrupted by her girlfriend putting the shirt on her nose.

"Smell that, it's the smell of baby vomit."

"Are you telling me... that your lover has a baby?" Y/n rolls her eyes and throws her shirt on the floor.

"Fuck Ellie, I was holding a baby and he did this, I swear." Y/n takes her girlfriend's face in her hands and is only inches away from her face.

Ellie analyzes her girlfriend's face looking for any sign of deceit and lies, but finds nothing, she seems desperate to fix this.

"Do you promise?"

"All over Jackson." Y/n responds immediately.

Ellie closed her eyes and sighed,

"What a fucking scare."

"I love you, only you." She pulled Ellie into a kiss, which she returned gratefully.

"Who would have thought a baby would cause all this mess, huh." Ellie said, kissing her girlfriend's cheek and resting her forehead against hers.

"And it's not even ours yet." Ellie smiles wider at that.

"So you wanted to distract me with your beautiful breasts?" She says, placing her hands on Y/m's waist, and moving up to her bra.

"Did it work?" Y/n asks, biting her lips.

"Oh it sure did."

[thewertsearch]

TG: jakes bday is coming up really soon TG: just a few days before mine remembr […] TG: i just wanted your advice on what to get him TG: something sentimental i guess? but i mean im mostly tapped out of precious heirlooms atm so idk TG: but not like anything coming on too strong

I don't think you need to overthink things, where Jake is concerned. Just like John, he strikes me as a rather straightforward guy, and would probably appreciate the direct approach.

Seriously, just be upfront with your feelings. He'll respond with either "capital! let us begin courting, post-haste!", or "sincerest apologies, my dear compatriot, but my heart lies with my cerulean beauties!"

Either way, the issue will be resolved. Simple as that.

TG: something that says TG: this is totes platonic and everything TG: no eyebrow raising funnybiz is goin on over here TG: but still says you know TG: call me TG: if you wanna

Nah, I'm just fucking with you.

These are teenagers. They're full of big emotions that they don't know what to do with, and they're navigating the treacherous waters of romance without a map. I might have dunked on Eridan when he said it, back in our Hivebent days, but when you're a kid, growing up really is hard, and nobody does understand. Not even you.

Roxy's not going to initiate a frank discussion about her feelings with Jake - she's going to pine for at least fifty pages, and then impulsively confess everything at once, probably in the middle of a crisis. Sometimes, that's just how it goes, when you're a teenager - and it's always how it goes when you're a fictional teenager.

TG: u dont think that if i didnt say he was off limits on account of you being my best friend TG: i wouldnt be all the hell over that????

Wait, ok. So Roxy is pretending she's going to flirt with Jake - but she's really just messing with Jane, because Jane's also into him.

It's nice that there's no bad blood between the two as a result. You just know that in a lesser story, Jane and Roxy would proceed to squabble over this guy until it completely ruined their friendship. Thank you, Homestuck, very cool!

TG: you dont even let me say your dad is hot even though we both know he way the fuck is i mean come one

In every timeline, Roxy is destined to swoon over the prefect gentleman that is Dad Egbert.

GG: I don't see why you don't try to court the favor of Mr. Strider. If you ask me, he and you are perfect for each other. TG: oh jane TG: so naive TG: soooo niaev

The Bro we knew probably shouldn't have been dating anyone. Perhaps this version of him is equally unapproachable, and Roxy knows it - his little out-of-office responder would certainly suggest that that's the case.

GG: How can you be this fargone so early? […] TG: its a lot later here GG: You're three hours ahead of me! TG: youd would be amazed TG: how much can happen TG: in 3 hours GG: Tsk. What would your mother have to say if she caught you? TG: p sure she wouldnt give a shit

Rose, what the fresh fuck!

Look - guys, I know she's not exactly the maternal type, but come on. Even the adult Roxy, absent and alcoholic as she was, at least lifted a finger to keep her daughter safe, and you're telling me Rose can't even clear that bar?

Maybe Roxy's projecting a little. Rose often assumed her mother was acting in bad faith, even when that wasn't necessarily the case, and there's no reason that something similar couldn't be happening here.

...right?