#that looks like every other brown mouse

[kedreeva]

Do you think you could give your opinions on the recessive / lethal yellow genes in mice? Do you think you'd ever consider breeding recessive yellow? (If you haven't already.) I'm just super curious about your thoughts on them as I don't really know a lot about genetics. Do you think it's possible to breed a consistently healthy line of yellow mice? I'm just super curious to hear your thoughts as a breeder

Well, this is a kind of long answer and I'll warn it discusses animal death, so I'll put it behind a cut.

Personally, I wouldn't, but not because of ethics concerns; I just don't like any of the colors made with RY/AY. They're just not visually appealing to me. I had a couple RY pop up from the Taylor black line when I first got it, and they were just enh. A good, rich red, esp a satin red, can be a really perfect looking mouse... but by god that's years of work and it never ends because Red is such a hard phenotype to maintain and I'm just not that determined. I'm convinced that people breed for red because seeing it opens all the ferret cages in their brain, not because they can be normal about it. If you want good reds, it's like you dedicate your life (and mousery) to it or you don't do it, and my life's already dedicated to the peafowl. My mousery is already dedicated to blacks and tricolors.

As for the AY gene itself, it's a "lethal" gene in that homozygosity is lethal but it's lethal at the blastocyst stage so it's not really an ethical problem imo. If it was lethal as in the pups deteriorate and die post partum, or if it caused well developed pups to die/be stillborn such that it caused the dam health risks, then it would be a problem. But, it doesn't. You just get smaller litters because some cells die way early on and get reabsorbed. I don't really have any problems with that. Show breeders cull litters down to 4-6 pups (for dam and pup health reasons), so it's not like all of them would be turning into adults anyway.

As for the genetic issues with the adult mice, there are three major health issues. The first is obesity (sort of), and the major problem there is keeping them in breeding shape (meaning, capable of doing the do at all). Curiously, in at least one study I remember seeing, there's a difference between an obese mouse of X color mutation and an AY that's considered obese because of its natural body type; for example, an obese black mouse will likely have a shortened lifespan, whereas an AY mouse doesn't (at least not less than any other mouse color mutation) unless it's obese for an AY. So this isn't really a problem as long as the breeder is watching their diet and ensuring they stay fit for their body type.

The other two genetic problems actually are health issues related directly to the AY gene, and that's being prone to diabetes and to tumors. However, these are both things that (any good) breeders would notice, cull, and therefore not breed forward, in order to keep the line as free from them as possible. Which really isn't any different than any other line that develops health problems of any sort. People don't keep health problems. A good breeder should be and usually is aware of the potential health problems in the lines they are breeding, particularly if it's a genetic one that can't be avoided (like you can't avoid AY if you're breeding AY), and will know what to look for and intervene as soon as possible. Diabetic mice urinate excessively so it's REALLY noticeable, and tumors... well. Hard to miss. And tumors of various sorts is a fairly common "select away from/cull" problem in any mutation, it's just slightly higher risk in AY.

So the short answer, in my opinion, AY isn't really an unethical gene to work with. It's not one I'd choose to work with, but I don't think the people who do are doing anything wrong just for working with the gene at all. It comes down to the same ethics as any other mutation; working to maintain body condition and selecting for health.

Honestly, out of all the animals I've seen bred and bred myself, I think mouse breeders in general have proven themselves to be the most concerned with what's best for the animal, not the breeder. The show clubs like FMBA and AFRMA etc won't recognize standards for things like snub noses or manx tails or anything else that would potentially seriously impact QoL by nature of existing at all, and at least in the groups I'm in, the members are not shy about recognizing when health problems mean no breeding for a mouse regardless of how pretty or sweet. When someone newer asks what to do, I've never seen anyone support trying to breed a mouse with issues, or usually even keep one whose QoL would be poor. They are very familiar with the kindest thing you can do is let them go. It's a breath of fresh air from the goddamn chicken groups, who will limp along any bird that's still breathing regardless of what's best for the bird.

I think the only morph I've seen that I have an ethical problem with is the X-brindle gene, which is a "brindle" gene on the X chromosome that causes the mouse to be unable to absorb copper. This means that the males DO founder and die after birth (which means most people just humanely euthanize the male pups, they aren't out here letting them suffer that I've seen), and females get a strange coat color and curled whiskers from low copper absorption. Does have a second X gene that's clean so they still can, but it's really an unnecessary mutation to continue imo. It hasn't been recognized by the show clubs that I know of, but idk if they can be shown under normal brindle or if you can tell at a glance, as I don't really know as much about them or any of the AY gene specifics. I have basic knowledge but since i don't breed them myself it's very in passing knowledge. I know it's rarely bred or worked with in the first place, and I hope it stays that way or disappears entirely.

[star2fishmeg]

ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ

[29.8k] Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | if y/n knew how their friendship would play out, she would’ve never spoken to Luke in the first place. Now she finds herself in a game of cat and mouse except she’s ready to surrender. But he’s not. Warnings | 18+ smut, angst, childhood friends to lovers, swearing, underage drinking, dry humping, choking, making out, praise kink, size kink, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), very creepy behaviour towards y/n, protected sex Authors Note | slow burning again. Covid also never happened. This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ love lost - mac miller [small worlds masterlist]

The house next door to the L/n’s had been vacant for six years after they moved to the lake until the Hughes’ moved in with their three boys. To say the l/ns were relieved to have neighbours finally would be a significant understatement, they were running straight to the Hughes’ front door with offerings of freshly baked cookies and a two-year-old y/n tucked in their arms. It started a beautiful friendship between families, but temperamental summers when the Hughes’ would return to the lake. 

When y/n and Luke first met, they had been no older than a couple of five-year-olds with faces slathered in sun cream and the highest peak of curiosity in the world. She and her father had been seconds away from taking their boat out onto the lake, a bow-seated bowrider that most of the lake's inhabitants owned, but to the Hughes boys next door, it was the coolest thing they’d seen. Before they knew it, Jim was dragged across the docks by Jack, Quinn keeping up with Luke behind them. Y/n’s dad stood up, placing his hands on his hips in a typical dad manner, chuckling while y/n snapped her head around to face the docks. 

“Apologies about him,” Jim smiled, referring to his middle son’s enthusiasm. Quinn and Luke stayed tucked into Jim’s sides, “He’s got far too much energy.”

“He’s all right, anything I can do for you?” her dad asked. Y/n’s eyes jumped between all three boys, she knew they’d lived next door during the summer for years, but she’d never really spoken to them, Quinn was nine, and that was scary enough, not that he looked scary with his brown hair sticking out from under his cap and gentle eyes. Jack was a dirty-blond, eight-year-old ball of energy with a constant smile on his face, she heard him in his garden all the time. Luke was the shyest, but he had the cheesiest grin out of them all. 

“Ellen and I are about to head off to view a boat, actually. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to take the boys out with you? I’m hoping it’ll get them used to the waters.”

Y/n perked up, looking back at her dad and then back at the boys buzzing on their toes, eyes glowing under the sun, and she held her tiny hand out towards Luke, “Yeah! Come, come!” 

It was safe to say that after a full day of exploring the lake, listening to the boys talk about hockey, reminding them to sit still, her father had never been more grateful to only have two children, one being a daughter who seemed to love bossing Jack (specifically) around. 

*

That was how the two families managed to occupy the children as rambunctious kids. Shuffling them between each other, introducing various activities from each other's lives just to cure their boredom and get them befriended. The boat trip had been such a success that Jack had insisted they teach y/n mini sticks, her brother was only two and still far more interested in what toys he could chew on. So, they did just that, Quinn gently teaching the rules and watching over the younger ones, especially when Jack got really into it. But it was Luke who’d stick to her like glue, choosing her as his teammate every time, whacking his brothers if they hurt y/n (which they giggled about, planning to bring it up later).  

Another day when the weather was particularly calm, Ellen and Mr. L/n took the children paddleboarding, Jack and Quinn picking it up rather quickly, able to stand on their feet when both used the board together. That didn’t last long when Jack supposedly elbowed Quinn in the back, resulting in the eldest Hughes shoving Jack into the water, which then meant the board capsized and both boys became drenched. Y/n and Luke giggled, opting to sit on their board cross-legged and facing each other, talking about their favourite TV shows and school stories. Ellen thought it was a sweet sight, her little Luke warming up to someone, having a refuge from Toronto, someone of his own so he wouldn’t be confined to his brothers all the time. Not that that was a bad thing, but the other two boys had people at the lake they knew, their own friends and he seemed to adore her, just as she adored him the same. 

*

Every year the nearby town held a carnival that featured rides, food stalls, almost impossible games and the public’s favourite, the firework display. The one night a summer when everyone seemed to spring to life, families, couples, and friends, all came together for the memories. Strings of fairy lights hanging around the walkways, colourful, flashing stalls and rides with music drowning out under the crowd’s chatter and the floods of people making it too easy to get lost in. It was one night Luke in particular would never forget, fear shook him to his core seeing how busy the walkways were, and how big the world was and he concluded that if he was scared, y/n must’ve been too.

Both families attended together with a chain of their children clinging to them, weaving in and out of people just to reach a good spot for the fireworks. Quinn hated it the most, somehow, he had been roped into getting Jack through (who made it his goal to play every game possible), clutching his wrist while Jack complained about his grip and that he was pulling him too fast. Ellen guided Luke through, and Luke’s hand held y/n’s in a vice grip, as tight as he could for a child. He couldn’t look at her though, his cheeks burned pink the whole time and he concentrated too hard on getting away from the crowd, y/n with him. He thought he’d cry if he lost her. 

It was then that Luke experienced butterflies for the first time. The moment they reached the fireworks spot, both families huddled together, ear defenders ready in case they got frightened by popping and squealing. But not Luke and y/n, the only thing clutched in their hands were each other. The comfort of another was all it took to rid the fear, children don’t seem to mind if their hands are clammy, they held each other's hand as the fireworks lit up the sky in beautiful shades of reds, oranges, yellows in bouquets and whistles to willows and cackles, the first display they’d remember and have reflect in their beady eyes of awe. He squeezed her hand, turning his head to search for any fear in her face but she gazed back at him, lips grinning as his blond curls bounced in the breeze. They never let go, even when they didn’t need to hold each other anymore.

*

Crickets chirped throughout her garden, fairy lights running along the fence illuminating ever so slightly in the dark. No chatter from the docks, lights in the house absent and the time hitting midnight on the dot when young voices, terrible at whispering broke through the silence. 

“Luke, move over!” she kicked his leg, attempting to roll away from the box of board games next to her.

“I can’t, the wall is there!” Luke protested, rolling into y/n, trying to shove her back to her side. 

Group sleepovers are the pinnacle of good times but also the cause of a war. Y/n had a treehouse in her garden before she was born, her dad had built it after having fond memories from his childhood when he had one. Her mother suggested she invite the Hughes boys over one night since they weren’t far, and the treehouse had board games and cushions in there anyway, all they needed were sleeping bags and roll mats and they were set and wouldn’t be disturbed, as long as they closed the door. 

It wasn’t large, a squeeze, in fact, the four top-to-tailing (Luke and y/n together in the smaller section, Quinn and Jack in the larger where there wasn’t a big box) but it was cosy and as long as Jack kept his arms and legs in his sleeping bag, everyone would be happy. Except he didn’t. Just before they were about to fall asleep, Quinn was awoken by a Skittle bouncing off his head and rattling against the wood. He ignored it until another hit him. Then a Skittle hit Jack, who threw one at y/n and Jack failed to stifle his giggles until someone smacked him with a pillow. Y/n grinned, watching the boy pout but grab his own and hit Quinn, whose eyebrows couldn’t have knitted any further into his forehead as he, with a stronger momentum, swung around and whacked Jack clean around the face. 

“Oh Lu~” she chimed, watching him shield himself with his own pillow. She hit him but softer than she’d hit Jack and the four fell into a pattern of giggles and pillow swinging, burning all that pent-up energy children had. It was moments like those that brought the fondest memories to people, the ones that stuck with people forever and no matter how much time passes, the memory stays in the very place where it all happened. Always. People never forget things that made them laugh until their stomachs ached, even if they did get scolded in the morning for going to sleep too late or being too noisy. The memory never fades. Everything always stays.

When Luke was eleven, his family moved officially to Michigan, on the opposite side of the lake. The town separated them, albeit not far, he still wished he could live next to her all the time, but that would’ve taken the magic out of the vacation home. She was still the girl next door but now they’d get to see each other every day instead of once a year, he could invite her over to his, hang out on the weekends, after school, and visit all the places she used to talk about. He could see his best friend all the time.

Y/n hadn’t known about the Hughes’ move. Of course, her parents told her they were moving out of Toronto but where to be a guessing game. Out of all places, it was at school she discovered they’d moved to Michigan when the locker next to hers had been given a new lock. She closed her locker door and turned to take her leave for class until she came face to face with Luke Hughes and his bright blond curls, standing next to her just as awestruck as she was. They broke into smiles, arms thrown around shoulders and faces buried into necks, hugging until the final warning bell rang.

If you had asked Luke at the time if he liked y/n, he would’ve rejected the idea profusely out of embarrassment, but even years on, he still attached himself to her at the hip. He didn’t know what love felt like, or what a crush felt like at that age, but he did know that he always felt this warm sensation in his chest when he was around her, like flowers blooming and he couldn’t help but smile and tune the rest of the world out when she spoke. He’d always ask her for homework help, even if he knew the answers, he just wanted to hear her talk. If her friends received compliments and gifts from other boys, he’d provide her with them. When she didn’t have a partner, she’d find him. When she cried, she cried into him, when he’d lose his temper, she was his serenity. 

He remembered the first time she bawled her eyes out to him, clear as day and the first time he’d seen her vulnerable. He had been flustered through and through, never having a girl throw herself into him and nuzzle into his neck the way she did, tears soaking his hoodie’s collar and arms winding around his torso tight. He rubbed her back timidly, copying what his dad did when his mum was upset and let her cry at their lockers, the hallway scarce of anyone else but her muffled sobs and his hammering heartbeat. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, his stomach sinking.

Y/n sniffed, turning her head and pressing her ear to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze, “It’s stupid.”

“Well, it’s not if you’re crying.” 

“Basically, Mark C had this list that ranked most pretty to least pretty out of me and my friends and he and his friends put me at the bottom and it’s stupid because it doesn’t do anything but then he said that ‘there’s always an ugly one’. Jenny found it and tore it up.” She babbled, tears soaking his hoodie, but he didn’t mind. He just held her tighter, stroking her back until she’d cried herself dry.

“He’s such a jerk, I think you’re the prettiest, so he was wrong anyway.” Luke, fuelled by a bitter taste in his mouth, hadn’t thought through what he had said or the weight of it and spoke from his mind. Hearing that a boy thought she was pretty and openly admitted it without shame or fear exiled any sort of misery from her. Somehow, and she didn’t understand why at that age, it meant everything that it came from Luke. Luke who’d grown up with her and seen her worst moments already (like horrifically sunburnt). 

She squeezed him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to throw around compliments or comments, he was a thinker, just like his oldest brother.

“Do you wanna come over? We can watch movies and I’m sure we can drop you home.” He asked, his voice soft. She pulled back, hands fisting his hoodie, eyes sore and puffy and Luke felt his heart shatter at the sight of her sadness. She nodded eagerly, failing to contain the smile that crept onto her lips. She couldn’t help it, Luke just did that, and had that effect on her.

It was just a movie to make y/n feel better, but Luke being the youngest of three meant he fell victim to relentless teasing from his brothers the moment he got home. With bags dumped in the hallway, he and y/n made it to the large living room that opened into the dining room on the right-hand side which overlooked sliding doors into the garden, a breakfast bar dividing the kitchen and dining. Jack’s eyes lit up, first, engulfing her into a bear hug and then wiggling his eyebrows at Luke. Quinn simply ruffled both their hair and took his seat on one of the sofas, engrossed in his phone. 

“Woah, look at Lukey bringing a girl home, we only got here a week ago an-” Jack started announcing but Ellen soon ushered him quietly, guiding Luke and y/n into the living room. She apologised for the mess, they had only recently moved in and there was still a lot of decorating to complete. The basics were down, sofas, TV above the fireplace, and dining table in the dining room but the place lacked photos and other miscellaneous decor for now. 

“What do you wanna watch, Lu?” she curled up on the sofa, tucking herself into the armrest. Luke sat next to her, an awkward distance between them.

“You choose, I would pick Harry Potter, obviously.” He slumped into the backrest so his feet could reach the coffee table, just about.

“Harry Potter’s good, put that on.” Luke did, loading up Netflix and hitting play. He wanted to do something, cut the awkward air between the two of them but she seemed happy curled up in the corner, but he imagined her cuddled into him instead. Y/n burned to lean into Luke, bathe in his embrace again, the warmth of sitting close to someone and perhaps she would have if Quinn left the room. It wasn’t like he was paying attention to them, so she readjusted and shuffled closer to Luke, butterflies flittering in her stomach as she closed that awkward gap between the two of them. Luke glanced over to Quinn, but quickly turned back to her and sat up straight, turning his body into hers in return and putting his attention back onto the film. 

They hadn’t made it halfway through the film when they fell asleep, Quinn too. Y/n’s head lay on Luke’s shoulder, his head leaning on hers. It was tough work surviving a day of school, clearly, but at least they were comfortable. The whole house fell into a silence, if a pin were to drop, the rattling against the floor would echo. When Jack emerged from his room, he genuinely thought he’d been home alone the whole time and crept down the stairs, flinching when he accidentally kicked a hockey glove to the bottom. He hung a left into the living room, catching sight of Quinn knocked out with his hood pulled over his head and Luke and y/n cuddled together, Harry Potter still playing on the TV. He could have woken Quinn, he could have woken Luke and teased him red, but he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, snapped a photo of his little brother and scooted around the house to find Ellen as if he had a rare treasure to show her. Sometimes siblings aren’t all that bad. 

*

The summer of twenty-fifteen worked slightly differently than either family were used to. The l/n’s were used to having an eleven-year-old and an eight-year-old, with the additional two teenagers and Luke next door but now Jack was allowed to bring his friends Trevor and Cole. That was four teenagers, two pre-teens and a child, the Hughes’ now with two cars on their drive and double the noise level. Jack’s friends weren’t trouble, though. Trevor was like Jack, loud and full of spirit while Cole was on the quieter side, yet still as adventurous as the other two. When Jim had told the l/n’s the situation, y/n’s parent's souls were sucked straight from their bodies, how were they supposed to entertain that many kids? 

One tradition that hadn’t changed was the carnival. That still stayed but the world wasn’t so big to them anymore. The fairy lights stayed, the food and game stalls were still the same, the rides had been refurbished and chatter still muffled the music. They had the strength to move through the crowds on their own now, recognise each other amongst the people and knew exactly where their meeting point was. Quinn was relieved he didn’t have to babysit Jack anymore, he met up with his friend Brady before the firework display. Jack, Trevor and Cole played every game they could afford with brotherly competitiveness raging through them and Luke still held her hand above it all. Weaving through bodies, hand clasped in his, she followed him with every ounce of trust she had, feeling a spark surge between them and watching his ears tint pink when she squeezed. When they’d arrived at the spot, the parents were already huddled together, Jack and his musketeers arriving shortly after with various prizes hanging around their necks and stuffed under their arms and Quinn arrived last. They weren’t huddled as close as they all had been in previous years, the little groups seeming to form their own huddles and Luke and y/n were included in that pattern, standing slightly to the side, almost in their own world. 

Spinners of blues, glitters of whites and brocades of purples painted the inky sky in tune with the song that played in the background, following every beat almost perfectly. Their hands became warm in each other's hold, almost too warm but letting go would’ve felt wrong and awkward, especially since the electric feeling felt too good. Maybe they were too old to be holding hands now, there wasn’t much of a point anymore but perhaps they felt like it was all they had left of the innocence of childhood before school got harder, friendships got messier and before everyone started changing. Luke peered over at her, smitten by the way the fireworks always brought a smile to her face. She had such a lovely smile, the kind where her eyes crinkled in the corners, and she was confident about showing teeth. A burst of adrenaline shot through him, and images of couples he’d seen around flashed through his mind and maybe he would regret it, maybe he would burn hotter than his sunburn but at least he could say he tried. 

With a hitched breath, Luke placed a sweet, quick kiss on her cheek before turning back to the sky above as if he’d done nothing at all. Her eyes widened and her head whipped around to look at him, confirming as if she hadn’t been dreaming and the way he smiled victoriously gave her every answer to her questions. 

“Luke!” he flinched at his name, eyes wide, his worst fear hitting him like a brick; did someone see that? Was he about to be yelled at for kissing a girl’s cheek? Is Jack or Quinn going to chirp him for the rest of his life about it? He sheepishly turned towards his family, only to have relief wash over him when it was just Ellen calling him and y/n over. 

“I want a photo of you and your brothers,” Ellen called, and he and y/n shuffled over, hearts thumping in their chests with cheeky smiles that kept a secret only they would ever know. 

Quinn, Jack and Luke stood together, Luke in the middle wearing his University of Michigan fleece (which he wasn’t sure who it actually belonged to), Quinn on one side, hands tucked into the sleeves of his grey hoodie and Jack on the other, who, for reasons unknown, decided to don an all-burgundy jacket and beanie in the middle of summer. Neither of the boys smiled, more so due to being forced into a photo with everyone else watching and giggling at them but unknown to them at the time, that photo would be hung up on their staircase and be one of the favourites. 

*

The problem with growing up is that the big world starts to become smaller and more enclosed. You learn and feel new things that you never thought existed. Unfortunately, the group found out the hard way that things change. The ladder on y/n’s treehouse had rotted over the winter, but her father replaced it with a staircase instead, for ease but she thought it looked cooler that way. It also made getting the mugs of hot chocolate into the treehouse easier than it would have been. But because everyone had grown, and they’d gained two extra bodies, it meant the inside was even more of a squeeze than before, even after replacing the large box of board games with a small cabinet instead. Top-to-tailing once again, Jack, Cole and Trevor on one end with Quinn, Luke and y/n on the other, but this time Jack was kept awake by Trevor’s snoring. He should have expected it really, it was usually him keeping everyone up with his antics, but he loathed how everyone else managed to fall asleep but him, but he hated more that if he dared wake anyone, he’d be sleeping outside. 

He couldn’t blame everyone for being out cold, they’d spent the afternoon making friendship bracelets, Luke and y/n giving each other matching blue ones that he just knew would become the most prized possessions with the way their eyes lit up. Jack may have been loud and chatty, but he observed his brothers intensely and learned vicariously and what he figured out was that his little brother was utterly obsessed with this girl he desperately tried sitting closer and closer to. Luke even blew on her hot chocolate, the way Quinn used to do for him. To think that an eleven-year-old made bolder moves than he did. Quinn had told him to lay off Luke, let him be enamoured and that it was sweet to watch him break out of his comfort zone. Of course, the eldest knew exactly what it was like to feel so tucked away in your shell all the time, so if anyone was rooting for Luke and y/n, it was Quinn. 

The air around her slowly warmed, her shivering stopping and a hot breath fanning across her pillow. Opening her eyes a crack, Luke’s curls fell in front of his eyes, sleeping bag zipped to his lips and he shuffled closer to her. If this was his way of cuddling, she accepted it immediately, shuffling closer until foreheads almost touched.

“Goodnight, y/n.” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Lu.”

*

Jack vaulted over the sofa, clutching the diary to his chest and manically laughing as Luke chased him desperately, with sheer panic in his eyes and a face redder than Cole’s sunburn. Luke had never felt so hot in his life, never wanted the ground to swallow him up more. He wished he’d never let Jack in his room, he wished he’d been more careful and tidied his room when he was asked because everything from that point further could have been prevented. 

“C’mon Jack! Give it back!” Luke whined, lunging at his brother, who dodged him. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought it too!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’ve thought it, you wrote it down!” Jack teased, opening the diary above his head to read more of the paragraphs. More of Luke’s deepest secrets. “I think y/n’s the prettiest girl in my grade and even the world, I like her smile a lot and she makes me feel all tingly when she laughs.” 

“Shut up! Muuuum!” 

Jack eventually handed the diary back, his laughing taunting Luke as this was now something that would hang over him for the rest of his life, be brought up every summer until the end of time and he begged the universes and any deity out there that Jack didn’t spill the secret. He was awful at keeping secrets. He and y/n were best friends. She didn’t even feel the same anyway, or at least he thought but, if he was lucky, perhaps took the risk, even just once, it could work out. What was the worst that could happen?

“Lukey and y/n sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Jack sang, eventually ending the tune with kissing noises as Luke's face grew redder and redder. If he could hit him with no consequences, he would’ve hit him hundreds of times, he wished he was big enough to cross-check him hard next time they were on ice. 

“Shut up!” Luke yelled and shoved him, but Jack repeated the song, “Mum! Tell him to stop!” 

“Your face is so red! You do think she's pretty! Wait ‘til the other’s hear this!” 

“Jack, stoooop!”

Jack grinned like a menace, running away through the sliding doors and through the yard towards the dock, “QUINN! Luke has a crush on y/n!”

To Jack, it was harmless, brotherly teasing. They’d make up, move on and forget about it. They couldn’t do anything anyway, Jim and Ellen would scold him (or Quinn) for messing with Luke if they continued, and y/n would find out and everything would be ruined. So, it became a Hughes secret, and everyone would let Luke pine himself to death and decide if he wanted to make a move or not. And Luke’s nerves exploded. His mind raced and emotions tangled into a knot. He was still a growing boy, he didn’t know anything, and he was just about to begin middle school and after that high school where y/n would likely and undoubtedly make new friends, like other boys and he’d fade into the distance as nothing but the boy next door. If anyone were to have their heart broken it would be him, and he’d do everything to ensure that never happened.

When you start high school as a freshman, you don this mentality that you’re a lot older than you are. Perhaps it’s because you’re in a larger school with kids a year to four years older than you are, you’re all mature now. You dress better, follow trends, are influenced by the people around you and the media, and develop into your own person and your classes are more challenging. Yet, there are twice as many people, twice as many judging eyes, people you know and others you’ve never seen before. People openly tell you your flaws, force you into a shell and all the rumours brainwash the consensus and nobody knows what’s real and what’s not, if there’s a correct way to wear something, enjoy something, who was in your league and who was far out. 

But it was also a clean slate for most. When Luke and y/n started high school, their friendships hadn’t merged like they used to. Luke found his crowd, like-minded boys who enjoyed sports and finding ways to cure teenage boredom and y/n found hers, a mix of different personalities that found common interests out of the blue. The differing schedules and groups pulled them apart more than they had liked, only sharing two classes in the end and Luke despised whoever made their timetables. She’d pout when they compared schedules, a violent urge to cry knowing she wouldn’t see his smile and curly hair every day, wouldn’t be able to find him easily for a hug when she needed it, and wouldn't have him by her side anymore. When she’d looked back up at him, with glossy eyes, his stomach dropped, and he knew exactly how she felt. He opened his arms and let her bury her face into his chest, arms winding around her, and they both mourned the loss of being two peas in a pod as dramatically as angsty teenagers would.

He did his best to see her at her locker, leaving cute little notes through the vents with hearts doodled under the message. He smiled and talked to her in the halls, they hung out after school when they could, he glared at anyone who dared talk shit about her and they hugged whenever one had a bad day, Luke hanging on longer, always. But as he’d feared, she had shown interest in other boys like his efforts had been wasted, and other boys had reciprocated but for some reason when they left cute notes, it was romantic, not that led to anything. But seeing the real world lit the fire under him, he needed to be a go-getter now, do something.

*

Nothing sucked at the lake though. There was no competition at the lake, no interruptions and he had the whole summer to make a singular move, or at least drop a hint. That was his one goal, drop y/n a hint that he liked her. She was a smart girl; she’d catch on but if she accepted it was an entirely different anxiety. He’d watched Jack make moves on girls before, it wasn’t that hard, surely. All you had to do was just go for it. And he would if his nerves didn’t eat him alive like vultures. This was his best friend he liked; he’d cry like a baby if she rejected him but hate himself for ruining something precious more. 

Michigan could get hot during the summer, a blazing hot sometimes where the UV was high enough that thirty minutes outside, you’d feel that burning sensation along your skin. All those years ago, Jim and Ellen had bought that boat they viewed, it had sat identically to the l/n’s on the dock until Quinn had been old enough to drive it himself and take his brothers and friends out on the lake. Well, it was more like Jack’s friends as, for another year, Trevor and Cole had tagged along for their lake house getaway.

Luke had no problem with Trevor and Cole and quite liked them as people. So did y/n, maybe a bit more than the youngest Hughes liked. Y/n sat opposite them and Jack on the boat, donning her new bikini and sunglasses she begged her parents for since she wasn’t a kid anymore. Thank the heavens for those sunglasses, if either of the two had caught her staring at them, she may have just jumped overboard because they looked divine. Trevor with his flowing hair, always perfect no matter what direction the wind blew and tanned skin that glowed in the sun, immaculate humour that made anyone laugh. Cole who was the embodiment of the sun and so soft-spoken, shoulders broad with inviting arms. The boys in her grade weren’t like them, hadn’t grown into their features yet, and still had awful haircuts but not Trevor and Cole. They worked out, proudly sitting shirtless and flashing their six-packs off to the poor, fumbling girl in front of them. Her friends would have killed to be there, these guys were so much hotter than the ones she knew, but also so far out of reach that all she could do was admire them. 

Jack elbowed Trevor, subtly gesturing over to a zoned-out y/n with a playful smirk on his face. Catching onto his hint, he tensed just to watch y/n look away, attempting to play it off. The older boys chuckled, Luke sending a stabbing glare towards Jack. She’d been caught, been too sloppy and now they knew she was staring. How embarrassing. Luke shuffled closer to her, thighs pressing together as he slung his arm over the back of her seat, just as he’d seen Jack do before.

“C’mon, dude, uncool.” Luke scolded, irritation bubbling in his chest as his brother and friends laughed until they moved to the seats at the front of the boat, likely intending to get Quinn to stop so they could jump in the water. He wanted her to look at him the same way, desperately. He also worked out regularly, grew out his curls the way she liked them, and wore the clothes she said looked good on him so what was so much better about them than him? What was he doing wrong? 

Heat flushed up the back of y/n’s neck, tingles jolting through her as their skins touched softly. His arm around her felt secure like it was meant to be there and suddenly the embarrassment faded. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, listening to Luke mumble something under his breath. God was he cute when he pouted, cute that he’d stood up for her once again. He was taller, more confident, attentive, and wearing the clothes she loved on him, he’d listened when she rinsed his last haircut, completely warmed up to her presence, talking all the time with her about anything, going everywhere with her. Luke was her anchor. She leaned into his side and tucked herself into him, his muscles relaxing underneath her touch, and he hesitantly rested his head against hers, shutting the surrounding world out as they bathed in each other's company.

*

The sun gracefully set into slumber, painting the sky with gradients of oranges to yellows over the lake and the back gardens. Y/n’s legs dangled over the porch of her treehouse, facing out towards the lake and feeling the breeze through her hair, a hot chocolate still warm cupped in her hands. It was peaceful up there, next door was too loud, Jack throwing some party while Jim and Ellen refuged in her living room, chattering with her parents about all the children and presumably the Hughes boys’ NHL drafting. Her parents were hockey fans, but neither child played the sport, not seriously at least, but she knew it was Luke’s world and because of that, she made sure to attend his games when she could.

Luke’s footsteps thumped on the wood of the platform, and he took a seat next to y/n, swinging his legs back and forth over the edge. Jack’s party had become too loud to bear, and he felt the sweat radiate off the bodies he’d weaved through to leave the house, deterring him from wanting to join in. Besides, he didn’t want to be at the scene of the crime when Ellen and Jim found a broken pool cue in the basement, or a giant stain on the rug in the living room. 

“What are you doing up here?” she asked, smiling at him. Of course, she knew, but she loved seeing him smile.

“Wanted to see my favourite person, is that wrong?” Luke’s shoulders bounced when he chuckled. Something she loved about him was that when he laughed, he laughed with his body, shoulders bouncing, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, sometimes when he laughed really hard, he’d lean into her. 

“Mmm, nooo, I guess not. Just thought you’d be down there,” she gestured her head towards his house, “getting the party experience for when you make it with the big dogs.”

He screwed his face up, “There is the last place I wanna be right now. It’s a disaster and I don’t wanna be roped in with the blame. Plus, Jack’s been making out with a girl for an hour and every corner I took they were literally there, so gross. And Quinn’s at Brady’s. Would rather be here with you.”

“Well, aren’t you a cutie pie,” she teased. Luke’s ears tinted pink and she raised her mug towards him. “Want a sip?”

Without a word, his lips pressed to the mug, sipping the lukewarm hot chocolate which was more marshmallow than liquid. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, watching her lips meet the exact spot his did. His stomach fluttered at the sight, the orange hues cascading over the two in perfect timing. She looked…beautiful. 

They fell silent for a moment, attention drawn next door as a group of guys cheered over a beer pong win, jumping into each other and loudly claiming that the winning shots were for the girls watching. They imagined that it was them, at some place in the future, at a party with their friends where they all played drinking games, and it was normal to express such things openly. Where everyone had grown out of their teenage features and minds, understanding the world a bit better and having fun was easier. Y/n knew all the girls that entered the Hughes’ house were pretty, and she admired the way they dressed and styled their hair, their confidence and no wonder the boys liked them. 

“I can’t wait to be like them one day, Lu.” She mumbled, placing her (now empty) mug to the side. “Pretty and having fun like that, they’re all so cool. My friend’s sister goes to college, and she tells the wildest stories, and how she met her boyfriend is insane.”

Luke’s mouth dried, it was now or never, and he couldn’t miss his chance again. Why were feelings so hard? Why couldn’t she see herself from his eyes? Y/n placed her hands on the platform edge, fingers curling over the side, and he glanced at them with temptation burning through him. Be a go-getter, now or never, do something. He placed his hand on hers, fingers curling the same as hers did. It was an awkward way to hold someone’s hand, sure, but you don’t really think things through when your heart is pulsing in your ears, and you think you’re about to explode in adrenaline. 

Y/n turned her head and looked at the heat on her hand, his larger one fully engulfing hers, “You looked pretty today. You look pretty all the time. I told you that years ago. I like the way you smile, and I like your bravery, the way you’re not afraid to talk to people, that you bring comfort to people. There are lots of pretty things about you other than your face. And hair…and eyes.” 

Looking up at him, their eyes met, and he wasn’t smiling. He was being real. He’d seen straight through her once again and said exactly what she needed to hear. But the way he said it came straight from his heart, his eyes never wavering away from hers like he’d been trying hard to put up a confident front. His hand squeezed hers, the sunset lighting up the green in his eyes but not in a soul-staring way, they shimmered. His words flowed through her veins, echoing around her head and wrapped around her heart like a hug and no matter how hard she had tried to suppress it, maybe she liked him a lot. And he’d just confirmed that maybe, just maybe, he may have felt similar. 

“Lu,” she asked, his gaze softening at her voice, “do you really think kissing is gross?”

He shook his head sheepishly, wetting his lips, “No…I just don’t know how to do it.”

“I can teach you,” she paused, eyes jumping to his lips and back to his eyeline, “I’ve read a lot of romance books to have an idea.” 

His voice stammered, eyebrows raising as his chest became heavier, breathing deeper until he managed to spill the words out, “You wanna kiss me?”

“Yeah, like…it wouldn't be weird because like…we’re best friends and all so…if we’re gonna learn it may as well be with each other.” Y/n avoided his eyes, looking between his lips, chest and their hands on the decking. They were warm, a nice warm that felt secure, the contact made her stomach flutter because yes, she had thought about kissing him, what it would feel like, if it was acceptable, what he would think of her and if he wanted to kiss her too. 

“Yeah, it’s not weird if we kiss.” Luke piped up, hand leaving hers and fingers gently tilting her chin up to meet his eyes, “I wanna kiss you too.”

Y/n nodded lightly, confidence driving her to lean closer into him and the world fell silent. Luke short-circuited, he really should have asked his brothers for advice before agreeing but he wasn’t going to be a coward when she was right there, her eyes fluttering closed, and he copied. His fingers slid to cup her cheek, tilting his head in the opposite direction while his heart pulsed rapidly, faster than hockey had ever made it beat. Their lips pressed together for a closed-mouth kiss, meeting tentatively and tasting the marshmallow remnants but a new kind of euphoria burned through them for those five seconds, an addicting one that when they pulled away with uncontrollable smiles, they leant back in for another, a passionate one that lasted a few seconds longer with more confidence as they’d found comfort. 

Pulling back with eyes fluttering open, Luke’s hand covered her’s again, “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” he whispered, enamoured by the high he was left on. A high that urged him to kiss her again, and again and until they couldn’t breathe. 

“Now you know how to kiss someone.” She giggled, turning back to face the sunset as if it hadn’t fazed her at all. No blush as if she’d kissed someone a million times. Like it was empty. 

And that was that. It ended as fast as it started and both fifteen-year-olds watched the sunset until the sky bled into ink and the stars rose, not a word between them. That painful desire to keep kissing her terrified Luke through to his bones. Her lack of reaction, lack of sparkle in her eyes gave him the sickening reality check that maybe it was just a kiss. That when the euphoria circled through them it only fuelled a fire in him. Had he not been clear enough when he explicitly said he wanted to kiss her? He needed to be braver, bolder. If she wasn’t picking up on hints, he’d just need to spit it out, but not now. He could barely form a sentence as he processed the storm of emotions. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Y/n whipped her head back towards the sunset, a small smile settling on her lips to mask the twisting in her stomach. The kiss felt electric, joy running through her veins and Luke’s lips on hers let a new kind of warmth flourish in her chest, one that made tingles of excitement spread through her. She could tell the kiss had him enamoured, he sat wide-eyed like she’d hung the stars out, utterly infatuated they’d just shared their first kisses. It wasn’t like she hated it, that it didn’t mean anything to her because it did, there’s no one else in the world she’d rather have her first kiss with. The problem was that it made her feel things. Things she’d never felt before and she didn’t know if she liked the kiss or if she liked Luke. She didn’t know anything, and she couldn’t risk hurting him out of her own confusion and stupidity.

Leaning up against his locker, half-listening to what his friends were talking about, Luke watched the two from across the hall, his tongue licking his top teeth as y/n laughed with the boy she was with. One year ago, he and y/n had kissed in her treehouse, and one year on he still thought about it. They hadn’t brought it up since, it didn’t matter anymore, it was only a kiss apparently. They continued their friendship like it always had been but every now and then they’d stare at each other for a little bit too long and let the memory wash over them again. 

But he still didn't like what he was watching, it felt like a festering wound in his body with the way she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Gradually he clocked out of his friend’s conversation and tuned into y/n and mystery guy’s like a satellite. The hall wasn’t too busy, most of the crowds retreating towards the stairs, so while their voices weren’t clear, he caught the gist. It didn’t mean he was happy about it, in fact the way he spoke to her as if she were stupid didn’t quite sit with him right, how could she like him? Luke’s glare only stiffened, burned holes through the guy’s head the more he swayed her with his compliments and smiles, God was it unbearable and Luke was at his wits end with it. Weeks he had seen the two together and his croaky, fifteen-year-old self’s voice echoed, ‘be a go-getter’. 

He pushed off his locker, weaving around the passing students and just as he was so close to interfering, he wished he’d never left at all. The world moved around him, but the volume never made it, a ringing in his ears as the words left her mouth easily. 

It’s a date, see you Saturday.

He huffed with a lump in his throat, stomach dropping and his heart bleeding out his chest and onto the linoleum, but his feet didn’t move fast enough as by the time he’d processed what he’d seen, heard, his eyes met hers and he found himself approaching her. Even at sixteen, he towered over her, shoulder leaning against her locker with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes glossing but holding back the tears. 

“You two seem friendly lately, not goin’ around finding my replacement, huh?” he half-joked, trying his best to put on his signature smirk.

Y/n folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, his eyes catching sight of the friendship bracelet he made her when they were kids, “Stop it, we’re just talking. And nobody could replace you, Lulu. You’ll always be my number one bestie.” 

Bestie.

“So, where’s he taking you on Saturday? Not a walk in the woods, I hope. You know what happens there.” He didn’t care, no, no, no he didn’t. At least that’s what he had tried to tell himself. He just needed to know she was safe, yeah. That was it.

“He’s not gonna kill me, and if you must know, we’re going to the roller rink, he wants to be cute and teach me to skate.” She watched Luke cock an eyebrow; his smirk still glued to his lips as if to non-verbally ask her ‘Really? Does he not know you at all?’. “What? I tried to tell him I already knew but he insisted and like, he’s cute and he was trying so why not?”

The bell shrilled and crowds began shuffling. Luke raised his hands to surrender while she rolled her eyes, pushing him by the chest backwards towards their class as he chuckled at her, spinning around. His heart had officially been shattered to pieces; he wasn’t even in the running. He’d lost a love, but he still had his friend, but the part that stung was that he lost his first love to someone else. He had been too slow, a coward. Maybe it would have turned out differently if he hadn’t agreed to kiss her in the first place. Maybe he should have said something in the treehouse. Seeing them together would only add more salt to the wound and he didn’t think he could just get over that quickly, couldn’t bear to see them in school together, it was like having an arrow labelled above his head labelling him as a loser. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you two at it then. Call me if you need anything.” 

Y/n stopped pushing him and walked close by his side, looping her arm around his and holding tight to not lose him amongst the crowd. Luke wished he could have enjoyed the affection, but it was different now. He was just a friend and how would her potential boyfriend feel about her clinging onto him? Would it be his fault? Oh God why was it so confusing.

One weekend. One date was all it took. Luke spent the whole weekend in his basement, shooting pucks and not caring if they hit the wall or the net, that wasn’t the point, all just to clear his head and focus on something else. He started to hope his dad would yell at him for being too rough, it would give him something else to be upset about. After the puck slammed into the wall, he stood up straight to catch his breath. Hockey was supposed to channel his energy so why did his body feel so heavy still? His eyes burned hot, glazed over and he wiped the streaming tears with his sleeve. He was used to being on his own now, both his older brothers in the NHL and now his best friend had someone else. The one time he needed brotherly advice, comfort, to hear their voices the most, they couldn’t be there, and a call wasn’t the same as sitting on the porch roof watching the sunset.

Meanwhile, y/n’s face held an amused facade while her date mansplained Fantasy Football at her, eyes subtly flickering to the clock on the wall periodically. The whole date hadn’t gone badly, he paid, bought them drinks, listened intently to every word she spoke but what more was there? They’d been skating in circles, and he’d been trying desperately to appeal to her, bragging about his football achievements and now Fantasy Football. He was nice, cute, yeah, but y/n couldn’t help but think of Luke every time a word left his mouth. This guy was not special, her stomach was silent, no butterflies like Luke gave her. His smile wasn’t contagious like Luke’s. Luke would’ve taken her somewhere new they could both try or somewhere they both loved, Luke’s voice was easy to listen to when he told hockey stories, and he’d already explained fantasy sports to her the same way he would have explained it to a guy. All she thought about was Luke, compared to every guy she met. Poor Luke. She should have told him she liked the kiss then maybe he wouldn’t have run blue in the hallway. She couldn’t turn the clock back, but what she could do is move forward with the realisation that she did like Luke Hughes, more than a friend. 

She’d told Luke about the disaster date, and he’d been surprised to hear she hadn’t enjoyed it since he’d watched the two shower each other with nothing but attention and affection for weeks but Luke had made up his mind. It was time for him to take the backseat, let go of their childhood. 

Once Monday came around, Luke had to try his best to push his own feelings aside, lay off the romance hints, less like her wannabe boyfriend and act more like a friend, she wasn’t interested in him now, she had other boys, and he had to at least pretend he wasn’t interested in her. They were besties, nothing more, nothing less. She said it herself. He’d lost his chance. Even if he tried to ask her out now, what if she rejected him? Laughed in his face? His feelings mattered too, and the last person he wanted hurting them was y/n. Y/n and Luke had made their agreement to be friends, and they hated themselves for letting the flowers of a bittersweet tragedy grow in their lungs violently unless they loved each other the same.

His logic may have been screwed, but it was the only way he would be able to stay in her life, yes girls and guys could be best friends but when you were in love with yours who liked someone else, that became horrendous to bear. Especially on the daily. How was he supposed to be just her friend if he had to be reminded of why he’d go to all ends of the Earth for her every day? He’d head straight to his friends between bells, pretending he’d not seen her face sink when he walked past. At lunch he sat with his friends most of the time, got involved with their shenanigans while she sat with her group, as if he didn’t notice the longing in her eyes. In classes, he’d join his friends a little more, not all the time but more than he used to. When the final bell rang, it was her he sat with on the bus, and it became the best part of the day listening to his voice talk, having a conversation like they used to. It wasn’t until he’d started putting a wedge between them that he realised how deep he’d fallen into her grip, and getting out would be the hardest, most confusing and painful part of it. 

Y/n wasn’t used to the whirlwind of emotions, the on-off behaviour but after months of Luke being unable to decide if he wanted to hang out with her or not, she’d gotten used to it. She didn’t expect to see him after the first bell anymore, didn’t expect him to find her in the halls (but he did give her a smile and that little upwards nod guys do when they passed each other) or at lunch anymore but when they met on the bus at the end of school, they fell back into each other like magnets. She didn’t know what she did wrong that made him build such a wall, but for the first few weeks there wasn’t a night she hadn’t cried about it, not a day where she’d see his face in the halls and her heart not gain a heavy weight. It had her emotions in one giant blender, he wanted nothing to do with her throughout the day but once they got home, he replied to texts almost instantly, hung out with her over the weekends, glared daggers into every guy who ever spoke to her and what the hell was going on? He had her engulfed in blankets of loneliness and then bouncing back into that warmth of giddy sensations. The one thing she did know for certain was that the further apart they floated, the more she realised how much she loved Luke Hughes.

* 

When Valentine's Day rolled around, y/n closed her locker, cheeks aching from smiling so much. It would be the day she asked Luke if he wanted to celebrate the day of love with her, go into town, on a date. As she turned to leave, Roller Rink guy unfortunately cornered y/n to her locker, a cocky grin on his face. Nausea riddled; her smile dropped. She thought telling him that they should just be friends would be enough, but he was persistent on wooing her. Luke chewed the inside of his cheek, a cold glare on Roller Rink, he couldn’t have cared less about his name, he didn’t want that taste on his tongue. How could this guy not get the memo? 

“So, you got plans tonight? Gonna give me a second chance?” Roller Rink smirked, stepping that inch too close for her liking. So close that y/n stepped back, bumping into someone else a lot taller, broader.

Luke almost left it, almost walked away but his blood boiled too hot, “We do, yeah. Sorry buddy, maybe next time.” 

“Well look who it is, haven’t seen you in a while, Hughes. How about you let the girl speak, yeah?” Roller Rink mocked, condescending. Y/n had never been more grateful for Luke to step in, never been more grateful for a friend like him. Relief fell through her, shoulders becoming weightless, and her muscles finally relaxed. 

“Actually, he’s right. I asked him to meet me here. Bye.” She stuttered, grabbing Luke’s hand and dragging him through the hall, leaving the other guy in their dust. She grinned the whole way to Luke’s, hoping he was just as ecstatic as she was. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, falling weak to her.

It was their childhood all over again, Luke and y/n curled up on the sofa, but this time she had her head tucked into his chest while his arm sat comfortably over the back of the sofa. Her ear pressed to his heart, listening to its calm rhythm as Harry Potter played on the TV. They weren’t supposed to be that close; he was supposed to be keeping his distance, pushing those ecstatic feelings aside, being her friend but the way she snuggled into him, fitting like a glove in his figure, had his head spinning. The last time, it would be the last time he’d let her do this. Perhaps he could make an exception for Valentine's Day.

Valentine’s Day had been the exception, and the final one. When she left his house, he’d taken a long shower, staring at the wall and rethinking his options. Y/n was playing with his feelings, tugging his heart strings and he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t cope with the bursts of paradise when their met eyes, only to remember that if she really liked him, she wouldn’t have agreed to a date, and wouldn't have avoided his eyes after kissing him. Maybe he was immature, unable to regulate such strong emotions, but he hated the back and forth, he just wanted someone he couldn’t have. She went on a date; she didn’t like it so she went back to him to seek the affection he couldn’t give her. Best friends weren’t supposed to be rebounds; he didn’t want to be a rebound. If he was to have her, he wanted her, exclusively but maybe right now just wasn’t the time. 

He stopped speaking to her in class, she tried her best to crack him, grab his attention and hopefully he’d return her energy like he used to but all he gave were dry, short replies. He couldn’t let himself fall for the sweet sound of her voice and she couldn’t let him ignore her interest. When they’d pass each other in the halls, she’d smile that warming, toothy grin at him, but he barely looked at her. She caught him after school, asking him if he was taking the bus but Luke waved her off, saying he was carpooling with his friends. Luke was always busy when she’d asked to hang out, which was okay, he was allowed to have friends. At least he still texted back, not instantly and the messages were shorter, but she took what she could get. Was part of growing up watching friendships float apart? She knew that the older you got, your friends either become closer or further from you, and Luke had been her childhood friend, but she never imagined he would be the one to drift. He was also a human though, he had his own life and his own friends, she would always be there, but his current friends wouldn’t so maybe he was just making the most of things. It made sense, next year they would be graduating, and they’d never see most people again. After all, she still had summer, and you’ll never have the summer you had at seventeen. 

*

Y/n pulled the photo album out of her wardrobe, brushing the dust off before sitting cross-legged on her bed. It had been a while since she’d taken a walk down memory lane, more prompted to revise over what life was like before high school started, when times were simpler and smiling came easy. 

Each photo still had pristine quality, her and the Hughes’ boys on paddleboards, from her and Luke sat together to Jack and Quinn drenched with a capsized board, their treehouse sleepover where they got yelled at in the next morning for being noisy, the time where they played roller hockey and she grazed her elbow, her decorating Jack’s hair with glitter hair clips and a whole lot of her and Luke thick and thieves. Her and Luke at the fireworks, hand in hand, playing Swingball, asleep on the sofa, making friendship bracelets. The bracelets they still wore, even if they weren’t as close anymore. Both blue with a little white braided in, a matching pair. 

In every photo of herself and Luke, there was not even one where Luke’s attention was on the camera, his eyes were always lit up and focused on her. Each page she turned, the memory played like tapes, vividly and she remembered all the times he’d tried his best to impress her. When she told him that she liked his hair longer, he grew it. When she liked a specific item of clothing, he wore it more. He defended her when Jack and his friends laughed at her, held her closer in the crowds at the carnival, everything about his life revolved around her. Kissing her cheek when they were eleven must have taken a lot of courage and she brushed it off as a friendly gesture. And what did she do? After all his efforts, the way he was utterly enamoured when they kissed in her treehouse, she went on to agree to a date with some loser she didn’t really like because she was too oblivious to realise that Luke, her best friend, had been heads over heels for her since they were kids, and she was too late in accepting that. Luke would have never kissed her if he didn’t like her and now at seventeen, he really didn’t.

How things fall into a complex circle, a game of cat and mouse. Chasing, running, chasing and running, back and forth, back and forth. Guilt tore through her body and she slammed the album closed, running her hands over her face. Perfect, she liked him back the moment he was hard to reach. That horrid guilt in her, that empty feeling when her stomach dropped to the bottom, heart twisting in her chest when she thought about the pain, she’d put him through. It wasn’t over, it couldn’t be over, there must’ve been some part of Luke that still held on to hope. What felt like a fire lit inside her stomach, she wasn’t going to lose him yet. The summer was approaching, and over summer she’d have him all to herself with endless possibilities to talk to him, win him over again, prove that he wasn’t just a friend. She would not give up on Luke.

*

When the summer hit, all of Luke’s efforts hit the fan. She lived right next door now. He woke up every day only to see y/n flaunting around in her bikinis, he didn’t think she could get more beautiful but now she was stunning and as much as Luke tried not to check her out, he did every time. Luke himself spent more time at the gym, grew into his features and he towered over his brothers, he wasn’t hard to miss, y/n resisted the urge to gawk at him with his summer glow. 

It felt like his childhood all over again, all of them hanging out on the boat, him and y/n sitting opposite each other, Quinn driving, Jack, Trevor, Cole towards the back hogging the wakeboard and now y/n’s friend, Kim (who had bulging heart eyes towards Cole) sitting next to her. Every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of y/n from the corner of his eye, posed pretty with her chest puffed out, large sunglasses perched on her nose with her lips wrapped around the straw of a canned cocktail as she listened to Kim talk. Butterflies fluttered into his stomach all over again, he hadn’t looked at her properly in so long, he felt eleven again looking at her like she was the embodiment of Aphrodite sent down to Earth for him. What he couldn’t see was y/n looking at him back, eyes raking his figure and the way his curls bounced in the breeze, shorts fit around his thighs, smirk sat pretty on his lips. It was like the sun shone a halo around his head and her heart couldn’t have beat more profoundly out her chest.

When the evening fell, Luke stood on his porch, empty bottles of beer in his hands as he watched her boat pull into her dock, Kim lugging a picnic bag over her shoulder and waving off as she left for home. He hadn’t meant to, but it was a moment of weakness, one of those moments where he wondered if he had just been a little stronger, able to cope better with being so close to her while living in pain, if he’d be the one out there in the boat, enjoying a cute picnic dinner on the waters.  

Y/n struggled as she failed to tie the boat to the dock, the knot slipping, and she groaned in frustration. After a long day in the sun, the last thing she wanted to deal with was her own lack of strength. With the rope clutched in her fingers, she groaned loudly, glancing around for at least someone to help her until her eyes fell upon Luke at his porch. She called his name, waving him over desperately, letting him discard the bottles in his hands before he waltzed his way down the porch and through his garden.

“Need help?” Luke’s voice called out to her as he strolled along the dock, shading his eyes from the setting sun as he approached her.

She stepped away, handing him the rope, watching the way his arms flexed as he pulled the knot tight against the cleat, “Thanks, that was being a pain in the ass.” 

“They always are, the worst is waking up and seeing the rope snapped, that’s a pain in the ass.” He chuckled, remembering the morning he found Quinn with his head in his hands with a snapped rope at his feet and boat floating four feet away from the dock. They stood in an uncomfortable silence, the lake’s critters singing their songs with the occasional car driving in the distance. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, shaking his hair out of his eyes, “Sooo, it’s been a while, huh? How have, uh, you been?” 

“All right, you? Congrats on fourth overall pick, by the way, I knew you’d get there. You excited?” She smiled, rolling back on her heels and folding her arms under her chest.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay too. Sorry I didn’t reply to your text, I had so many I’m still getting through them, but thank you,” he chuckled, watching her shoulders raise as she gave a little huff in amusement, “and I guess, I’m happy that I’ll be with Jack but it’s gonna be tough. But I’ll worry about it later, I’m planning on college first, making some friends and that. Speaking of, Cameron, really?”

She forgot about him; he was that irrelevant she had actually forgotten she’d briefly dated her classmate, Cameron. She only did it in hope Luke would interrogate her, it made her a horrible person, yes, but Cameron was no saint by any means either. She hoped Luke would do what he normally did, get protective and ask her a million questions, like he did with Roller Rink, and he’d swoop in and woo her away instead, but when Luke only glared and scoffed, her plan for his attention had failed. 

Y/n’s eyebrows raised, and she blew out a defeated puff of air, shaking her head at Luke, “Don’t even go there, Lu. A wet rag would have a more interesting personality than he ever would. Thank God it’s over, finally. Surprised you didn’t interrogate me at the time.”

“Eh, I thought about it, but I didn’t wanna be that guy, y’know?” he shrugged, a static sensation crawling its way from the pits of his stomach where he’d shoved it, scuttling through his limbs and into his muscles. That euphoric feeling from the treehouse two years or so ago prying its way back into his memory the more they spoke. The feeling was exactly what he was running from, he couldn’t help liking her more than a friend but all the weight on his shoulders lifted and he felt free again, like being a professional hockey prodigy didn’t matter to her, she would like him anyway as just Luke. 

“You’d never annoy me like that.” They fell into a silence, Luke prodding the decking with the tip of his slides, y/n watching him occupy himself. She forgot how being with him felt. He felt exactly like they were standing, warm summer evenings on the docks with the breeze in their hair, in a smitten haze where nothing mattered. “Lu? Where’d you go? What happened to us?”

He froze and stood properly, eyes squinting from the sun’s glare as he looked up slowly. He hadn’t gone anywhere, is what he wanted to say but the wet glaze in her eyes suggested that y/n would’ve torn him to shreds if he kept avoiding her. He’d hurt her enough. His throat dried, a lump forming when he swallowed, “I…I got swept up in this whole draft business, family were really on my back about the whole thing, then I had Five Nations last year and Worlds next year, practice was intense and um, I was losing time with my friends…I guess. They’re likely moving out of state for college, and we’ll probably never see each other after high school.”

He wasn’t lying but what he really wanted to say refused to leave his throat, like the words were stuck in his chest.

She nodded, it was a valid answer, it made sense, she knew how his life revolved around hockey, when had it not? It just didn’t feel like he’d said everything he wanted to say, but he didn’t continue. He watched her purse her lips, the pinks from the sky fading into dark and the moon reflected over the lake, little lamps on the dock glowing yellow around them. If there were any moment he could kiss her, it would have been then. It had to be that moment when he felt his younger self spring to life within, entranced with her existence alone and the memory of the day they met, her hand reaching out to him specifically and never letting it go. Not Jack’s, not Quinn’s, always his.

“That’s fair enough,” she gave a gentle chuckle, “maybe a little warning next time, I thought I pissed you off.”

“Never, I’m sorry about that, I should’ve said,” he laughed with her until they settled, “well, I should get going before I ruin game night for the family, it was nice to chat again.”

“Yeah, it was. Thanks for tying the boat, see you ‘round.” With little nods and longing smiles, they both turned, heading in opposite directions towards the paths up their yards until the sudden burst of adrenaline rose in her chest. There wasn’t a lot to lose anymore, they were on good terms, he wasn’t pissed off with her and what better way to give him a fat hint, “Lu!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned towards her yelling, he hadn’t made it too far down the dock, her voice was crystal clear and his nickname in her voice just made his chest swell. 

“You’re looking good these days!” 

That uncontrollable urge to grin took over his muscles like he was a puppet, she’d finally noticed. His hair kept long the snug swim shorts, t-shirts and polos in styles she’d once said suited him. How could he not feel a buzz run through him, almost dizzying. As if on autopilot, fuelled by this sudden nostalgic rapture, he called back,

“And you’re still pretty!” 

No, she was beautiful, but he’d rather not yell when he knew his brothers were chewing table legs waiting for him. If he admitted it now, he’d never go back, he’d fold all over again and although she thought he looked good, spent their conversation glancing at his arms and lips, showing sprinkles of indications that perhaps he was still in the running after all, making his move after he’d sat in the backseat for so long pretending like he wasn’t interested just felt wrong. He had so much to explain before he even tried.

*

Another year, another carnival and y/n thought she’d be enjoying the games and food stalls with her best friend, Kim. She thought they’d be in photobooths, laughing over the stupid games that the odd person won and trying out the new churros stall but instead, the moment Cole offered to accompany her on a few rides, y/n knew she’d be on her own until the fireworks. She had no idea where Luke was, so tagging along with him was off the list as well and she was not going to hang around the parents and her brother and his friends, gross.

The woman behind the counter smiled, handing the cone of churros to y/n before turning to the family next to her. Kim may have been missing out, but she sure was not going to pass up the opportunity for fresh and warm sweet treats that only cost her a couple dollars. She stepped to the side, away from the counter, the aroma of sugary delights filling her senses as she took her first bite. She hadn’t tasted something so incredible since she discovered what pancakes were. 

A firm hand on her lower back wiped all sense of a blissful retreat from her body, her grip on the churros tightening and she froze, a cold presence looming over her with his hot breath plaguing her neck. Why? Why in all places where there are families with children? She wanted to run but her legs locked into place, that horrific fear chilling her spine and the default thought that it was over echoing in her mind. 

“You look a little lonely, I can keep you company.” The guy breathed deeply in her ear, with a suggestive tinge in the way he spoke. She didn’t dare look him in the eye, just peered through her peripheral vision enough to know he was at least in his twenties. 

“I’m not, I’m with my boyfriend, actually.” She replied, as confidently as she could possibly bear without bursting into tears. His thumb rubbed against the fabric of her jeans, her appetite sinking into nausea.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t bite.” He pinched a churro from her cone and now they’d been infected, now she didn’t want them anymore. The closer he stood to her, the filthier she felt like it was all her fault for not moving away. Y/n’s eyes remained fixed to the grass below, tears welling and her throat closing as she choked back a sob. She squeezed her eyes shut, helplessness overruling every ounce of strength she had the closer the guy pressed himself into her back.

“Yeah, but I do so fuck off.” Luke’s voice clipped, his hand sliding over her shoulders gently. Y/n’s eyes snapped open, immediately recognising the white Air Forces and the voice in her ears, legs finally gaining the ability to move again, and she let Luke’s hand guide her into him instead, dropping the churros into the bin nearby. She wrapped her arms around his middle, ear pressed to his chest and the tears ran hot, yet the way his arms secured around her shoulders brought a warm sense of belonging somewhere. 

“Woah, easy tiger. Was just making sure the little lady was safe in a place like this-” the guy raised his hands in front of his chest as if to surrender, an amused smirk smeared across his face as Luke’s stare darkened. His guilt taunted him, he should’ve been there and then she wouldn’t be shaking in his arms. Kim shouldn’t have ditched her, and he should have been a friend and stuck by her side. The minute he saw the guy approach her, his vision burned red and he was shoving his way through the crowds, whatever people were shouting at him couldn’t have mattered less. 

“-I’m calling security.” Luke exasperated, and he would’ve called security if the woman with her child at the stall nearby hadn’t already done so, the creep swearing and making a break for it. Y/n pulled her face away from his chest with red eyes, arms loosely wound around his waist still as she peered up at him. Luke’s eyes softened and on instinct his palms cupped her cheeks, wiping the remaining tears away with his thumbs. “I got you, s’just you and me.”

Her eyes sparkled under the fairy lights, stared at him like he was an angel sent from the skies to watch over her and he knew it. He saw it just as she saw his ears tint pink again. They hadn’t done that in months. He hadn’t felt that hot in months and the outside temperature was breezy. 

Y/n hoped he kiss her. Right there, where they were alone. Their eyes never leaving each other’s and his hands jolting electrifying sparks over her skin. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched my him, how light she felt. The less and less they’d touched, spoken, been in each other’s proximity the more intense the memory and feeling crashed over her in waves of yearning. The voice in her head begging him, Luke! Please stop running! I love you! Love me like you once did! 

His hands dropped and slipped into his short’s pockets, his gaze eventually leaving hers and jumping to the flashing lights of the stalls surrounding them, “You all right?” 

“I am now, thanks.” 

“I’m sorry,” he watched her open her mouth to speak, but he couldn’t keep it in his chest, she was there, and his emotions were running too fast to think about what he was doing.  The words spilled out, “I’m sorry for not being there. Now and over the past year. Y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. I wanted to tell you at the docks but, I dunno, I fucked it and then it was too late and-”

Her hands balled around his t-shirt, pulling him closer, “Lu, it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“No, no you might not,” he ran his hands through his hair harshly, “it wasn’t just because of hockey and my friends. I was jealous and insecure and that feels so good to finally admit. You went on a date with what’s-his-face, and I don’t know, I guess I thought I was being replaced and I was stupid about it, then it got too deep and fuck!” And I was so in love with you and then I lost my chance.

Y/n didn’t let go of him. His hands slipped back into his pockets, and he waited, eyes searching hers with sympathy written in them, the guilt on his face with shaky breaths. That was it? He was just insecure and was unable to process it? She heard him out, she would have probably thought the same and at that age, it wasn’t easy to just speak up about it, especially when you think you have no chance at all. She wasn’t mad, disappointed slightly, angrier at herself that he felt like he couldn’t tell her. 

“I forgive you. I probably would have done the same thing, honestly. Yeah, you were stupid, that was really stupid, and it really hurt. I’m also sorry for making you feel like you were being replaced. But if it brings any reassurance, no one would ever be able to replace you.” She pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping around his middle again and his around her shoulders, their height difference making them fit perfectly.

They pulled away after a few seconds, Luke clearing his throat as they stepped back awkwardly, “We should, um, probably head to the spot now.” 

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, totally. Um, thanks for stepping in again…I really appreciate it.” She blinked twice and fixed her hair, snapping out of her daze, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. Luke nodded before they re-entered the crowds, her arm looping around his as he led them through, glancing at her every now and then until they’d slipped out the other side, catching sight of Jack and his friends heading in the same direction as them.

Their families chose the specific spot when they were kids, it was out the way of the popular viewing places and to reach it required tackling a tedious staircase to the top of the hill, but it was the best spot that looked over the carnival below. Like most years, the two families were divided into their own little huddles, but Luke and y/n stood together like they were eleven again. Her grip around his arm tightened a little, head leaning against his arm and unleashing a giddy tingle into Luke’s chest. Y/n’s heart raced like she’d never been alone with him before, like it was the first time she’d been alone with him and God, just thinking about how Luke had kissed her for the first time in that exact spot just made her stomach warm. 

He slipped his hand out of his pocket slowly, keeping his eyes on the sky as the firework display’s music faded in. Like feathers, her fingers ran down his forearm, tracing over his skin and veins that ran hot with a resurfacing captivation like a drug he just couldn’t quit. Without saying a word or giving each other any kind of endearing look, her palm met his and fingers interlaced, rebuilding the bridge between the two lost souls as the pinks and reds of whirlwinds and willows reflected over gleaming eyes.

*

The Hughes family threw parties all the time, had been since they moved in next to the L/n’s all those years ago. Jim and Ellen always had some sort of party for the boys and as they grew older, Jack more or less became the main host, especially with the arrival of Trevor and Cole. That night it was the two families along with the Tkachuks, who moved to the lake a few years prior, who held some sort of belated celebration for Luke’s drafting success. According to Ellen, they would have done it nearer the time, but Quinn insisted the Tkachuks should join since they had played such a big role in the Hughes’ lives. 

Afternoon barbeques drifted into evening drinks and s’mores around the bonfire, Jack and Cole tossing marshmallows into each other’s mouths, Matthew telling Trevor (who spilled molten marshmallow on his knee and was trying to wipe it off with great struggle) a detailed story from one of his NHL games, Brady and Quinn debating something, it wasn’t entirely clear anymore what the topic was but they seemed to be in disagreement either way and Luke’s eyes flickered around the fire, in search of his person. Her brother was still there, kicking a ball around on the grass with a couple of his friends he’d been allowed to invite. Her parents were inside talking to the other parents. 

He stood up, unnoticed by the others, and wandered to the side gate, taking a quick look back before slipping out quietly and ambling next door to the l/n’s side gate, silently turning the hatch and letting himself into their garden. As he suspected, a faint, amber glowed from the window of the treehouse and those fairy lights didn’t turn on by themselves. With a sigh of relief, Luke carefully made his way across the garden, his footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs up to the platform and he opened the door a crack before letting himself into the structure.

The treehouse felt tiny compared to when they were kids. He was too tall for it now, having to duck under the door and crane his neck slightly, shutting it behind him. Y/n sat against the wall, staring out the window with her legs stretched out in front of her. She’d watched him come up the stairs, and it brought the slightest bit of relief that someone had noticed her absence. Luke sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder with his back against the wall like hers, the little lights that hung around the top of the walls giving their skin a dim glow. 

“What’cha doin’ up here, pretty?” he asked softly.

 She turned her head to face the wall opposite, head bumping the wood, “Got cold and needed to think. What about you? Don’t you wanna be down there, gettin’ advice from the big dogs?” 

“Would rather be here with you.” He chuckled lightly, Deja vu of the conversation. The last time they sat in the treehouse together, before things spiralled. She shivered, running her hands over her arms to rid the goosebumps. Luke shimmied his sweatshirt over his head, the navy blue ‘USA Hockey’ one he always thought would look better on her, “Here, put this on.” 

“You sure?” he nodded, and she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, the size engulfing her but she was too warm to care, “Thanks, but really, how did you know I was here?”

“Had a feeling. Do you wanna talk about it?” 

She stayed quiet for a little moment before speaking, “M’just a little worried about college. My friends applied so far out of state with all these cool stories from relationships and drama and shit and I feel a little…boring. What if people at UMich think I’m boring? What if I’m gonna be alone? I’m not boring, am I?” 

“If it brings you any comfort, I’m worried too. You know my friends are leaving the state too, and I also haven’t exactly been the most exciting socially either, just those odd parties, you remember those surely,” he muttered, his voice raspy as she nodded, “you’re not boring, by the way, never losing a game of beer pong is a talent people will kill for in college, and you won’t be alone. You’re the most likeable person I’ve ever met, and I admire how you find talking to people so easy. Remember when we started high school? You jumped straight into the jungle and made friends within the first day, took me a week to properly make mine, I was terrified. Besides, I’ll be there so you can always come find me.”

 Y/n didn’t reply, but she soaked in his voice and how easy the words left his mouth. He always knew just what to say, and that was yet another reason why she loved him. She sighed, leaning her head against his bicep, gently nuzzling her cheek into him as if to comfort herself. If only he’d wrapped her arm around her, but resting his head against hers was enough, just like they had when they were kids watching Harry Potter. Back when Luke pined over her and she didn’t think too much of it, not knowing what it was, what it meant. He may have been the only guy that ever loved her like that. Roller Rink was far more interested in the idea of having a girlfriend and Cameron…Cameron couldn’t have cared less about who she was as long as she had female anatomy. 

“Do you think I’m lovable? Like, not because of the way I look.” She babbled out of the blue, Luke’s eyebrows knitting with confusion at her sudden question, but he had asked what was on her mind.

“I think you’re the most lovable person there is. You’re funny, you’re witty, you have this admirable determination and ability to socially chameleon. Oh God, and you’re so sweet, always know how to make someone feel at peace. What’s-his-face and fucking Cameron have no idea what they’re missing.” He rambled, a smile spreading across his face as the lights in the room sparkled in his eyes. She looked at him with awe, his voice like a song that would now become her favourite as he talked with adoration, valuing her as a human being with her flaws and perfections that crumbled the walls he’d spent so long building.

“Lu…” She wanted to say something back, kiss his face all over, take him by the cheeks and kiss his lips so hard they wouldn’t be able to breathe. That comfortable silence between them where eyes met and debated leaning in, submitting to his childhood crush and her adolescent realisation.

Her phone buzzed, she hesitantly pulled her eyes from his and after reading the notification she slammed the device back onto the floor, groaning and rolling her eyes. She grabbed her phone back, swiping and blocking Cameron’s Instagram. Blocking was crazy, but it was the only way he’d stop begging her for ‘another chance’. 

“Going by that reaction, I’m taking that was Cameron?” Luke raised his eyebrow, watching her place her phone to the side and lean back into the wall. 

“Can I tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone, not even your brothers…okay?” She breathed out, staring at both their feet. 

Luke hesitated, shivers running up his spine, “Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone about the twenty-fifteen fireworks, did I?”

“Ugh, he was awful, I’m actually glad it didn’t last long. Such an asshole, I just couldn’t do anything right for him. Bad girlfriend, bad person, bad kisser, prude. And talk about peer pressure, I didn’t wanna have sex with him, right? Because if I’m gonna lose my virginity it’s definitely not gonna be with him, and then he got all pissy and said that if I didn’t, he’d tell people I was a bad fuck, couldn’t make him cum or whatever. Anyway, you probably heard the rumours.” Y/n took a deep breath, she wasn’t sure why she was telling Luke that, but why would he tell anyone? It wasn’t like he had any more experience than her.

“What happened next?” he asked, deep down his blood boiled, the nonchalant facade he’d been building up began to crumble the more they found themselves alone, the more childhood memories that flooded back to him and reminded him of how much of a coward he was, that he should’ve just shoot his shot instead of running away.

“Then I caught him cheating, broke up with him and he threw a tantrum about it, started talking shit about you, saying how I was probably cheating on him first anyway, so it all cancels out. Told his friends that he caught me sucking your dick and how distraught he was over it. Next day he happily made out with his new girl in the hall, so I obviously did not matter at all and was just a plaything.” She chuckled sadly, leaning her head onto Luke’s bicep. He wanted to scream, hold her tight and tell her how wrong she was about herself, that she wasn’t a plaything, that he was a prick. But he couldn’t, instead his mind travelled to the worst parts of him, he would’ve beaten the hell out of Cameron given the chance. His deepest fantasies crept back to him like a virus all over again. 

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that,” his voice lowered, gaze peering down to her with a fiery glaze in his eyes and she looked back at him, curious. “I’d never treat you like that, you’d mean everything to me. Every word, every kiss, everything.”

She released a shaky breath, adrenaline sparking in her chest, “I can’t stop thinking about how easy it was to move on for him, I just want to forget the humiliation, but I don’t know how to do that.” 

His gaze burned through her, a rush of desire surging, and she’d never seen his face soften like that before, like he was thinking carefully. Luke’s hand reached for hers, sliding over her thigh and lacing their fingers together, like they always seem to do. From the pits of his brain, eleven-year-old Luke squeaked out to him and his heart screamed to grasp the opportunity: stop being stubborn, you like her, you like her, you like her, you still like her.

“We could make out, we’ve already kissed here, and if he can do it, why can’t you? Think of it as liberation.” She would have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the way his voice dropped and calm tone. He was dead serious, not a drop of amusement in his voice but he was right, they had already kissed once so what was the harm in doing it again? She peered up at him, eyes scanning his features, flickering between his lips and waiting gaze.

She’d be a fool to pass up Luke Hughes’ attention after growing apart from him. When he suggested making out, why would she pass it up, the guy still gave her butterflies even if she was just holding onto a painful delusion written by the past. It wouldn’t do any harm, it would take her mind off her turmoil, the haunting thoughts that a boy used her, and humiliated her. It wouldn’t do any harm; it was just a kiss. Only a kiss that would stick with her, their mutual magnetic pull over the summer striking up the same thought between them. Maybe they did like each other the same. 

Letting go of his hand, she hoisted her leg over his and straddled his lap, hand settling on his chest. A newfound adrenaline lit up inside her like wildfire, his large hands cupping her jaw with nerves wrecking his body, thumb rubbing her cheek. He wet his lips, his one hand sliding to her nape, and he pulled her in slowly.

“Yeah, liberation.” She whispered, closing the gap between them, lips meeting timidly before she melted into his body, Luke’s tongue ran across her bottom lip, a moan drawing from the back of her throat as she let him in, licking into his mouth with a sweet desire. 

Neither had an expert understanding of how to make out, but the more they fell into a rhythm of disconnecting for a breath, just to connect again for another taste, the more electric the tension between them became. She slid her hand from his chest to his curls, fingers tangling in the loose ringlets and tugging tenderly, too caught up in the pleasure to think coherently. Luke moaned hungrily, his hand gliding from her nape down the curve of her spine and his hand settling on her hip, fingers gripping her hipbone the moment she rolled into his crotch. The buzz from the gathering next door was silenced in their ears, the only noises in their proximity being the sound of their lips eating each other and tongues lapping in a hot and heavy haze, whines slipping in as a warm temptation flushed through them. He bucked his hips up, as if on an instinct, following his heart rather than his head for once. 

Even if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, they pulled back panting, eyes locked in a risky delirium. He ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, gulping when she wrapped her lips around the fingertip, sucking softly and swirling her tongue while refusing to drop the intense eye contact. Luke’s heart thundered, hard. So strongly he could feel it in his ears and undoubtedly his cheeks were pink. They were in each other’s grasps, overridden with a lewd rhapsody that had the bottom of their stomachs twisting and eyes half-lidded with lust. If Luke could feel how her underwear stuck to her in that moment, she would have never been able to recover from it. Kissing him so deeply with every ounce of desire that riddled her bones sent her into a dizzy haze, pussy throbbing for more every time he adjusted his hips up to meet hers. 

“What else can that mouth do?” he muttered, watching a new side of the girl he grew up with. His head was in a whole new place, a foggy mess all because she squirmed on his lap, felt euphoric on his tongue and kissed him like she meant it, like his hands over her body was all it took to light the spark that burned between them.

She released his thumb with a coy smile, a string of saliva between her bottom lip and his thumb. She could feel how tight his shorts had become and gave her hips another roll over his crotch, thriving in how his breath hitched, “Wanna find out?”

“Please.” He said with a shaky breath, hands finding their way to her thighs, running his palms along the flesh. 

Y/n bit her bottom lip, readjusting her seating by spreading his legs and setting herself on her knees between them. Although not comfortable, that was the least of her concerns. She flipped the hem of his t-shirt up and unbuckled his belt, fumbling with the button of his shorts and tucking her fingers into his boxer’s waistband. He lifted his hips, allowing her to shimmy his bottoms down just enough for his cock to spring free. He leant his head against the wall, hands covering his face when she rubbed languid strokes over his cock, thriving in his muffled whines when her thumb circled the pre-cum around his tip. 

“Mm, so big, Lu.” She hummed, spitting into her palm and giving him hard strokes from the base, smiling at how his Adam’s Apple bobbed. God, he wished he hated it, wished he didn’t feel ecstatic when she called him his nickname, the name only she called him. He wished he hated how her hand looked tiny against his cock, how good he felt.

“Shit,” he whined, “need your mouth already, please, y/n, please.”

“Only if you stop hiding, I wanna see your face.” She gave his tip relentless kitten licks, a vicious thrill shuddering down her limbs to her core. He did as he was told, hands trying to grip the wood beneath them and she grinned, taking him into her mouth and just to drive him insane, moaning and his taste blessing her taste buds. 

“Oh God,” he breathed raggedly, a twinge of a groan mixed in as her tongue lay flat on the underside of his cock, swallowing him as if she’d done it hundreds of times before like she’d thought about it intensely. Her name left his mouth in a mantra, followed by swearing and whimpers he never imagined himself making. 

She peered up through her lashes, the moan she let out reverberating around his cock with such a tainted pleasure that he gasped, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of her bobbing her head over him, watching him lose himself with a burning face and submissive mewls emitting from his lips. Writhing under his childhood best friend’s mouth, in her treehouse of all places while she sucked him off with shameless lust wasn’t something he expected. She had him a moaning mess and for a moment he thought that only she could be capable of doing so. There wasn’t a chance any other girl could make him feel that much emotion during such a filthy act, his childhood crush flooding back to him all over again, all that excitement, nerves, butterflies in his stomach and now the adolescent storm of love, lust, desire, dedication and everything that got mixed up in between.

He tensed, y/n’s free hand skirting up his shirt and splaying over his abs, feeling all the dips in muscles as his core tightened the deeper she took him, hissing when his cock hit the back of her throat. How on Earth she managed it, he wouldn’t know, and he didn’t care because it felt exhilarating, sweat forming on his forehead. He bucked his hips up, an erotic, deep moan drawing out from her. 

“Fuck, so close, m’gonna cum,” he breathed, “gonna cum, y/n, please.” 

His thighs shuddered, her hands lying flat on them as Luke exhaled deeply, the knot in his core unravelling as he thrust into her mouth, his hot cum coating her tongue and throat and his jaw slacked, panting when she swallowed every drop of him, as much as she could before pulling her lips off him. His eyes pricked tears from overstimulation, fluttering shut as his chest rose and fell.

“Where-where’d you learn that?” he whispered, tucking himself back into his underwear and re-dressing himself. It was as if his high wore off, the world tuned back in, and he could hear the buzz of his family’s gathering next door again. 

She wiped the dribble of cum from her lip with her finger, taking it into her mouth and licking it clean, “I read a lot, followed my instincts.” 

“Fuck, that felt incredible. You’re incredible, never gonna forget that. Fuck, you’re still an amazing kisser, oh my fucking God.” He couldn’t help but smile, it felt like old times. The easy air where no judgement lurked, secrets could be spilt and they’d stay between the two of them, he’d sit there, admiring and folding over how pretty she was while she’d treat him like a prince. Perhaps they’d just made another bad choice, how could he not ignore his feelings now, it was so hard to resist temptation and push back the butterflies. After all those months running away from himself, from her and all that achieved was him running back around straight into her grip again. He was done with running; he was going to give himself one last chance.

With a giggle, she crawled out from between his legs and re-took her seat next to him, “Now that was memorable. Remind me to kiss you more. Do you make noises like that for every girl? They were so fucking hot.” 

“Nah, only you. Been only you. Kissed only you.” Luke let a chuckle pass his lips, closing his eyes and grinning to himself. She exhaled, peeking up at him in his peaceful state. Only her, only her. Even after all that time, he’d never looked at another girl. She was the only girl he’d ever kissed, only ever done anything with and even after he’d kept her far from his reach, it was because he only ever wanted her. Now they had each other, side-by-side, in her treehouse where she’d given her first ever blowjob and she didn’t regret one second of it, and never would despite however life turned out. 

“You won’t tell anyone about this…will you?” her voice was quiet, and she pulled her knees to her chest. “Not because I’m ashamed but like, well, you know, kinda embarrassing people knowing our business…”

Luke copied her, resting his arms over his knees, “I’m not gonna say anything if you don’t want me to, y/n. You know I wouldn’t do that, but I get what you mean. I really don’t want my brothers talking about it, and you know Jack can’t even keep his own secrets.”

“Are we cool now? No more of- whatever we’ve been doing?” she held out her fist.

“We’re cool. Just you ‘n me again.” He bumped her fist with his, “We’re thinking of taking the boat out again tomorrow, you should come.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers, “Maybe I will, maybe I’ll wear my best bikini.” 

“Maybe you should, maybe I’ll wear the blue shorts.” He nudged back, both knowing exactly which items of swimwear they were referencing. The hibiscus pattern bikini that couldn’t have suited her any more perfectly and the swim shorts that hugged his thighs too nicely, that he only wore after he’d caught her staring.

They smiled brightly, lights reflecting in their eyes as they leaned into each other’s sides. The sweet sensation of closure, burying a hatchet in the place it all started. It wasn’t a conventional way to make up, but feelings resolved that night, messages conveyed and for those few hours they spent up there, they were finally on the same page.

*

Reconnecting with someone who was once your entire world changes your perception of life itself. The sun shone brighter, the air warmer and serotonin at an all-time high. What they hadn’t realised was that reconnecting after straying away came with a thick tension between them, not like a negative, doom and gloom but something else. Something exciting.

On boat days, every time their eyes would meet, stomachs would twist and feel a heat pool in their cores. Every little move felt suggestive, every time he adjusted the way he sat so his shorts would rise up his thighs slightly, every time she adjusted her bikini, when he’d place his hand on her hips as he’d walk past, sitting on his lap and playing with his curls to make more space for the others on the seats.

At the golf course, with his lean arms wrapped around her, hands on top of hers and guiding her positioning and swing of the club, his breathing on her neck making her body melt into his and Luke fighting off the urge to drop the club entirely and pull her into his embrace, to pepper her neck with butterfly kisses until he found her sweet spot.

Nights around the firepit, cuddled on his lap in the lawn chair wearing his hoodie, his hand stroking her thigh and mumbling conversations between each other, lips dangerously close with hot breaths on each other's necks.

Naps where they lay on each other's chests, arms wound around bodies and legs tangled under sheets and blankets.

The difference between their reconnecting and the average person’s reconnecting was that actions spoke louder than words, but neither were speaking up. Luke had done his best, been explicit in the treehouse, held her close whenever they were together. Y/n was in a bumbling state, accepting every one of Luke’s attempts, relishing in the feeling of being loved and appreciated, hoping her time and attention would be enough for him.

The difference between Luke and y/n couldn’t have been more obvious to a bystander. Luke, a shameless loverboy enduring the relentless teasing from his brothers about how down bad he was and y/n, endeared but tortured Luke with her inability to verbalise her feelings, an overthinker. Luke spent so many years being direct about himself and y/n spent so many years stuck in her head and generating the worst possible situations. All he wanted was confirmation, something that said ‘You’re my only too, my everything. Only you’, something from her vocal cords.

Y/n wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm, knees sore from kneeling on the grass for so long and hands soaking from the gardening gloves. Her mum had gone crazy with her flowers again, and insisted she needed the family to help her plant the new bulbs much to her father and brother’s dismay. The worst part was the chatter from the Hughes’, taunting her with how much fun they were having and how she was doing manual labour in the heat. A whole morning of listening to laughter, Jack and Trevor’s voices above anyone else's but all she thought about was Luke and his smile, his real laugh that came from his chest, the way he laughed with his body. All while she dug holes just to refill them again.

Somewhere around noon, she had thrown the gloves off and stood up, exhaling deeply and next door still had fun without her. God, if her fear of missing out was that bad then college would be excruciating. Having enough and falling submissive to her FOMO, she climbed her treehouse stairs, settling on the step that was high enough to see over the garden fence. 

You don’t deserve to be treated like that, I’d never treat you like that, you’d mean everything to me. Every word, every kiss, everything.

For a guy who’d been all over her, confessed that he felt something for her and told her that everything between them meant something to him, she sure became suspicious of it. Her stomach sank, tongue poking the inside of her cheek at him looking perfectly entertained pressed between two girls on the outdoor sofa, one of them suspiciously close to his face. She could only see him from behind, but she knew any girl who entered the Hughes residence was drop-dead gorgeous and if there was one thing she had learnt was that boys suck. He didn’t flinch out the way, didn’t move seats, didn’t push them off, he just let them. Jumping to conclusions wasn’t the person she wanted to be, but the festering irritation in her stomach wasn’t ignorable. Yet she trusted him, and before she would deep it, she wanted to think first, at least ask him about it before her jealousy got the best of her. She turned on her heel, thumped down the stairs and continued her gardening, which was now a lot more fun than next door.

Luke’s face burned red, only Jack would do him dirty in front of his cousins like that. His business was apparently the family’s business. The whole morning he’d been interrogated by his cousins about y/n, how she was, what she was up to, was she cute, did she make him happy, what she looked like. He pulled his phone out, opening his camera roll and pulling up a photo of her, his cousins leaning into him for a better look of the screen in the sun. 

“Oh my god, she’s so pretty, Luke!” Beth mused.

“How have you not asked her out?” Stephanie asked in a hushed voice, earning giggles from Jack and Quinn.

“I have been trying since I was eleven, okay? She’s just…not easy to read sometimes. I mean, I think we’re on the same page now, so I was gonna ask her next time I see her, ask her on a date to our favourite arcade.” He grinned at the thought, he’d planned it when he was fifteen and had been counting down the days to finally ask her himself.

He lay in bed that same night, seconds away from rolling over and turning his lamp off until his phone flashed, an influx of y/n’s texts coming through like wildfire. Running his hand over his dreary face, he picked his phone back up, reading each message one by one with unease. He squinted his eyes as if it would clear his confusion, her sudden outburst of accusations making him replay the events of the day.

Y/n/n  Who were those girls??? Why were they literally on you Luluuuu how many girls are you gettiiinnng Lulu  Huh? What are you talking about Oh they were my cousins. You met them years ago. I was showing them pics of you They were not on me thats gross they were looking at my phone so untwist your panties

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, or it felt like it. He was showing pictures of her? To his family?

Y/n/n  ?? Beth and Steph?? That was NOT them they were blonde as fuck My panties are fine thank you Lulu  LMAO yeah it was Didn’t know you were spying on me you lil peepin tom Yeah sure sounds like it. It’s okay to be ✨jealous✨ but you’re still no.1  Y/n/n  Ok I believe you WAS NOT SPYING WAS STUCK DOING GARDENING AND WAS CURIOUS Not jealous loser

Luke blew a puff of air through his nose, liking the message and placing the phone on his nightstand before rolling over. Usually, he was the one biting back his tongue, but seeing her jealous for once just made his heart swell a little more, it was cute, she cared. 

Y/n lay face down in her bed, face stuffed into her pillow and arms by her side. At least the irritation left but now she just felt like an idiot. But not a big idiot since she at least asked Luke what was going on, but still an idiot for even assuming he’d go and do something like that to her. She just hoped Luke didn’t think she was stupid.

*

Y/n hung her head in defeat, she tied the knot exactly how Luke had and yet she still couldn’t win. Another evening out on the lake with Kim, another evening where she wished she didn’t have to tie the boat to the dock. 

Hands nudged hers out the way and once again Luke had come to her rescue, crouched next to her and tying the rope to the cleat, like he had at the beginning of summer. They stood up straight, smiley, waiting for someone to say something with the crickets chirping and Luke’s brothers’ voices in the background.

“Thanks…again. I should get it someday.” She scratched her neck.

His mouth faltered, opening and closing to speak but he couldn’t choke the words out. He wanted to ask her, scream from the rooftops but something in his mind stopped him. What if she said no? How awkward that would be, they’d have to spend the last weeks of summer pretending as if nothing was going on, even if it was more than obvious that feelings were mutual. But what if she rejected him again? His hands slipped into his pockets, and he rocked on his heels.

“So, uh, since we're cool, um, was wondering for a while now if, um, and you don't have to but, uh, if you wanted to,” he started, sweat forming on his temple as his body ran hot. He’d watched Jack ask girls out, he made it look way too easy than it was, why couldn’t he just spit it out, he wanted it, that moment was what he’d been waiting for his whole life, she was right there. Chest tight, stomach doing flips, the adrenaline surging through him making his cheeks flush pink.

Her heart throbbed, cheeks ached but in a nice way, in a joyful way. This time, she would not miss her chance, it would be her and him until the end and she hoped, she begged the stars that he was going to ask her on a date. The whole summer with him, kindling spirits and rebuilding what had crumbled, two flames burning together and feeling as if she were the only girl in the world to him.

What was the worst that could happen? Rejection. Fear. Luke’s knees felt like jelly, his hands trembling and his mind coming to a blank. He couldn’t breathe, his heart wouldn’t pace itself and the words tumbled from his mouth in a panic, “um, well, Jack, Quinn and I were gonna check out this beach tomorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

He wasn’t lying, they were, but it wasn’t what he wanted to say. Y/n kept her smile even though it felt as if all her organs had been sucked from inside her to leave her a void. All that hope just for it to dissipate into thin air. All the little moments they shared, holding hands, exchanging secrets and forgiving, forgetting and going nowhere. It wasn’t until then it occurred to her that some people just weren’t meant to be more than friends. Just weren’t meant to take that leap into romance. Some people just were not ready. 

“Yeah, sure. Text me the details.” 

The closer they were just felt like they’d drifted further apart. They’d come so close until one of them just couldn’t do it, pushed the other away and not out of dislike either, because it was hard to not love each other but when you’d been friends for so long, everything - friends, family - felt at jeopardy. Right person, wrong time? It didn’t matter. Y/n and Luke would spend the rest of their summer as close friends. Nobody could hate Luke more than he hated himself, that bubbling in his stomach, boiling blood at only the boy who would stare back at him in the mirror. Nobody cried more than y/n, that pang in her heart every time they’d hang out, bottomless hollowness in her stomach when she soaked her pillows in the comfort of her bedroom. So close yet so far, like the stars that sparkled in their eyes when they looked at each other like they’d hung them out for each other. Once again, they’d signed that contract to be friends and if they were just that little bit braver, then maybe they’d stop letting the flowers of a bittersweet tragedy grow in their lungs, choke and suffocate them until one couldn’t do it anymore and concluded their decision. It was time to move on, stop waiting and set themselves free from the one who couldn’t decide.

Starting at the University of Michigan was like a breath of fresh air. New people, new environment, new life. Although she missed waking up on a lake, she and her roommate, beautiful and blonde, Bella (if she was going to make friends she may as well start with her roommate, right?), clicked well and decorated their dorm cosy with little lights hanging along the walls and bed frames, a rug to give the place personality and photos on the walls of family, friends and interests. Gave the cold place a bit of warm character. They giggled as they listened to the room across the hall already break out into an argument who-slept-where, they sympathised for the girl who struggled to say goodbye to her family and watched the two boys move in down the hall, y/n’s jaw dropping upon recognising the familiar head of curls. 

Luke and Dylan were long-time friends, they’d met back in the USA Hockey Development Camp when they were around fifteen and felt the pressure of new beginnings lift off their shoulders when they’d found out they were roommates. It was the best thing ever for them, setting up their room as their den, a blue rug, two plush folding chairs with the essentials: speaker, mini fridge, fan and a TV perched on top of one of the desk’s shelves. They’d spent most of their time rearranging their room to create maximum space, bickering like a married couple about the little details like no shoes on the rug and which way the desks should face. He and y/n hadn’t texted until later that night, Luke thrilled over her being just down the hall but y/n indifferent to it. Once upon a time, she would have been bouncing off the walls but now, it didn’t matter that much at all. 

In the first few weeks of university, you start making friends, join clubs and attend everything you can and go out when you want to with no one telling you when to be home. Y/n met a group of girls when she and Bella attended a social, Luke made friends through hockey. Both ended up back together when the two groups mixed by coincidence one night at some party they’d found and it was Dylan who brought it up. 

Y/n and her friends had been standing to the side in the living room of the dimly lit house, red solo cups held to chests and shuffling further away from the speaker at the other end of the room. Dylan weaved through the crowd, Luke, the three other guys, Mark, Ethan and Mackie not far behind him. She had been tipsy and grabbed Luke’s arm, Dylan immediately stopping to group with the girls. 

“Hey, Lu! Haven’t seen you in a while.” She yelled over the music, Luke standing close to her while Ethan, Mackie and Mark joined the little bundle. 

“Hey, y/n/n! Good to see you here.” He replied, dipping down closer to her ear.

Dylan’s eyes widened with his grin, pointing his drink between the two, “Oh shit! You know each other?”

“Yeah, we grew up together.” She smiled. Something inside Luke almost died that night. Something inside Luke also lit ablaze. 

“You’re y/n?! Hughesy talks about you all the time!” Dylan nudged Luke and Luke rolled his eyes, he would always have someone in his life who’d share his secrets, obviously. 

Y/n hadn’t added to the conversation after that and the group fell into a casual chatter, getting to know each other, that sort of thing. Luke felt the world bite him in the ass, that wedge he’d shoved between them now forced back and he felt like he was at square one all over again. 

That same night, on their way back to the dorms, Luke had made the clearest statement yet without opening his mouth. Ethan had been talking with her most of the party and since Luke knew her best, wanted advice. But when Ethan asked him about her number and favourite flowers, the youngest Hughes’ eyes could not have shot a dirtier look. Of course, the boys laughed, partially due to the alcohol and partially due to how real Luke seemed. Ethan flinched back, half-laughing out of nerves more than anything but that was the moment the boys realised something was going on. And they would not let Luke live it down.

Luke couldn’t bear his reflection sometimes. He had to face a coward and under the surgical white light of his and Dylan’s bathroom, where every feature and crevice of everything he hated just stuck out to laugh at him. Not physically, but all the memories of days he'd spent hyping himself up, ready to ask her out flashed in front of his eyes and he couldn’t stop the images of seeing his younger self utterly disappointed in him. He gripped the sink tight, knuckles turning white as he hung his head in shame, his eyes burning hot as they glassed over, a knot in his chest between angry and distraught igniting his tear ducts. He and y/n were part of two different groups with two different schedules, hockey was demanding, she would be with her crowd and when he thought he could finally have her without prying eyes, she was slipping further from his reach. But he wouldn’t lose her a second time. He wasn’t ready to surrender almost eight years of pining, he’d try just one last time.

*

It was exciting, it was new, it was refreshing. Weeks of classes, weeks of making new friends and weeks of finally gaining and learning independence. Things were going well for once and she even had her first date as a college student. Tony was a guy she met at a party, he didn’t resemble Luke at all and had approached her with smooth talking but lacked the character Luke held. She wasn’t sure about that, a cardboard personality but that was why she had agreed to go on a date with him, to learn. 

She’d knocked on Luke’s dorm on her way through, pushing him into his room abruptly and fixing her hair, Bella was out, and she was in dire need of a second opinion, and despite how the universe played out, Luke was still her most trusted and oldest friend. His eyes widened slightly, once again she’d quite literally taken his breath away with how gorgeous she looked all dolled up. 

“Do I look okay?” she asked, panic in her voice.

“Uh, yeah.” He fumbled out, like he’d forgotten how to speak entirely.

“That’s all? Oh God, I look bad, don’t I?” 

“What? No, you look good, I’m just confused. You going out?” he felt his cheeks warm at his sudden confession, why was it easier to admit that now and not back then?

“I’m going on a date, Lu. I’m freaking out, what if he doesn’t like me? What if I say the wrong thing or say something unfunny?-” 

Luke placed his hands on her shoulders, eyes meeting hers and her voice faded out. For a split second she questioned if going on the date was the right choice, but she caught herself, not letting the comfort of his thumbs rubbing her shoulders distract her. “-There isn’t a reason why he wouldn’t like you, chill. You will be fine, and you are funny, if he doesn’t find you funny then he’s boring as fuck. Who is this guy anyway? Where’s he taking you?”

“Thanks,” she relaxed with a smile, he always could make her feel better. “And are we really doing this again? His name’s Tony and I am meeting him at a bar near campus.” 

“Okay, you want me to walk you? Which bar-” but before Luke could get any further, she’d looked at the time and rushed out. He watched her power-walk down the hall before shutting his door roughly, hissing swears through his teeth. Perfect, just perfect, Luke’s love life was just going so perfect. Whoever this ‘Tony’ was, he despised him with every fibre in his being.

Dylan opened the bathroom door a crack, peeping out as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping the whole time. He didn’t grin like usual, his raised an eyebrow as Luke ran his hands down his face and threw himself onto one of the comfy chairs like a ragdoll. 

“You wanna talk about it? Fill me in here?” he asked, stepping into the room.

As Luke opened his mouth, someone knocked three times on the door. Dylan answered, revealing Mark, Mackie and Ethan kitted out for the gym. Ushering them in, they stood in front of Luke, like a council waiting for him. 

“Hughesy's pissed,” Dylan told the guys, “Luke, we’re here dude, let it out, brother. What’s the deal with you and y/n. You gave Eddy the evils and now you’re slamming doors and swearing your ass off when she goes on a date.”

Luke paused, thought. It wasn’t high school anymore; they were all adults. They weren’t going to tell everyone, they weren’t going to throw it back at him, tease him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit it out loud, he already felt like a loser as it was. They were his friends, his brothers. 

“I like y/n, and I have since we were kids. And I’m pissed off because I’m not the guy she’s going on a date with. Okay?” Luke groaned, the guys breaking into menacing grins and nudging each other’s arms.

“Dude, you could have just said something. Come on, Hughesy, we got you.” Mark laughed, grabbing Luke by the arm and pulling him from the chair. They say the friends you make in university are some of the best friends you’ll ever have, and that was the day Luke realised that. If anyone wanted him to be happy, it was them. He wasn’t on his own anymore, he wouldn’t be in an empty house all the time, he wouldn’t have to arrive home and hear the absence of his family. His family were with him all the time now.

*

Seven o’clock. Seven-thirty. Eight o’clock and Tony wasn’t coming. Cars passed, customers entered and exited, the neon lights flickered on and hummed in the dark. The world just passed by. Y/n had never felt more humbled in her life, more embarrassed. To think that he had an interest in her was too ambitious. How could someone do that? Just leave someone outside the bar for an hour with no text or apology. She sat on the curb with her knees to her chest, mascara running down her cheeks waiting for the miracle that he showed his face, and it was an innocent delay. Maybe he got caught up? Maybe he was late from somewhere? Why was she waiting, making excuses for him? But she still waited until the evening faded into the night. She waited on that curb, drained of all feeling, limbs heavy and even her stomach felt void of anything, she didn’t feel like walking back to her dorm, it may as well have been a walk of shame while everyone laughed at how hopeful she had been. No matter what she did, who it was, she was always waiting.

The Yost rink took hockey seriously, team rooms for everything. Gym, common, kitchen, locker room, showers, everything for aspiring professional NHL stars. The guys had started their fixed routine advised by the coaches, an intense gym routine, yes, but anything for hockey. Luke had taken a break from weights, wiping his face with his towel and taking a breather when he’d overheard the conversation, stopped dead in his tracks as the words almost echoed around the room. He didn’t want to have to look at the guy, but did he really have to play on the same team as him too? The worst part was it wasn’t just Luke hearing the conversation, Dylan and Mackie had paused their music to listen in, eyes switching between each other and at Luke, whose jaw clenched tight, and gaze couldn’t have been sharper. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on that date?” Tony’s friend asked, leaning against the treadmill Tony jogged on.

“Huh? With who?” 

“Y’know, the chick from the party? The one who wore that USA Hockey sweatshirt on move-in day? Wonder whose dick she sucked for that.” His friend continued, “Man, she was cute.”

Luke’s blood boiled and his breathing deepened. He bit his tongue; it took everything in him to not bite into both their throats. She didn’t have to suck his dick to get the sweatshirt, he gave it to her before that, because he cared.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that. She’s probably still waiting for me. Leave now and you might catch her.”

Luke huffed, turning on his heel and storming out the gym, scrambling in his pocket for his phone. Tony and his friend snapped their heads to his sudden exit, catching the eyes of Dylan and Mackie who shook their heads in disappointment before turning back to what they were doing. Tony had no idea he had an enemy until then. 

He burst out the gym doors into the hallway, pacing up and down with his fingers tangled in his hair, phone pressed to his ear but every attempt going to voicemail. He gave up texting, he could send a hundred texts, and she wouldn’t see them anyway, her phone was always on silent but with enough hope, she may see him call. 

Goosebumps rose along y/n’s arms, the autumn breeze catching up to her and perhaps she should have worn a jacket after all. She thought about getting up and heading back to her dorm, but the energy to do so had been sucked from her, limbs feeling heavy, and heart shattered. The longer she’d sat there, the more she realised she wasn’t upset about Tony, it was being stood up. He really did not want to see her that badly after all. Watching the same customers walk out the bar that she watched walk in, she pulled her phone out, lockscreen filled with Luke’s contact and five missed calls. What was so important that he had to call now? Why was she suddenly so popular with him again? Just as she scoffed and went to slide her phone into her back pocket, his name flashed again, for the sixth call. Her thumb hovered over the accept button, biting her lip with nerves crawling in her stomach.

“Why weren’t you picking up? Where are you?” His voice was panicked, and she could hear how fast his breathing was through the speaker. 

“Sorry, was too busy sucking off Ohio State’s hockey team.” Her voice clipped, running her nail over her jeans, tears welling in her eyes and reactivating her mascara, if there was any still left on her lashes.

“Haha, so funny.” He laughed sarcastically, “Where are you?” 

“Why do you care suddenly? You’ll probably just laugh in my face anyway.”

“Fucking God, y/n/n. Where are you?”

She flinched slightly at his raised voice, jolting her phone from her ear before replying with a sulky pout, “Diablo’s, but I’ll probably come back soon.”

He hung up, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and bolting out Yost without thinking about anything else. The only thought was getting y/n back safely before the worst happened. What was she thinking? She should've started walking the second Tony failed to arrive, before it was dark. His jogging gradually shifted into a run, Diablo’s wasn’t more than fifteen minutes away from campus, and he was aware that he looked a little crazy running with the bare minimum of usual running gear but that wasn’t the issue. He would have never stood her up like that, he should have walked her to the bar in the first place and waited until he arrived. He should’ve, he should’ve but he didn’t. He’d been harbouring his feelings for so long, yet he couldn’t even provide something as minimal as a walk, but he wouldn’t let her sit outside a bar because of some shitty guy. 

Y/n stretched her legs in front of her, eyes locked on her shoes as her ears tuned the world out, letting it pass by slowly before she thought about getting up. She knew exactly what she was doing. Fallen into yet another trap set her heart, she was waiting for Luke. Again. If it weren’t for the familiar maize and navy trainers appearing in front of her, she would’ve punished herself for even considering that Luke may have cared about her in the slightest. Slowly, she tilted her chin up: the gym shorts, the compression shirt, the flushed cheeks and unruly curls from the wind. What was once a heavy anvil on her shoulders ascended, taking the blues out from her body and replacing them with that spark. That electric spark that made her limbs all tingly with life and energy. Luke’s eyes softened at her, although his fears had been wiped, she was okay, but Tony made her cry. That time and effort she’d put in had ran down her cheeks and if he wasn’t so fuelled with captivation, he would’ve lost his temper. But she was his serenity, always had been.

“You came.” She squeaked, doe eyes peering up at him lovingly.

“Of course I did.” Luke panted, taking her by the hands and pulling her to her feet. He didn’t let go for a while, neither did she. His hands were warm, and she remembered how safe they always made her feel, how he’d always have his arm draped over the back of her seat during the summer, how she felt like the only girl in the world when their eyes met. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.” 

It wasn’t a long walk back, but neither was it romantic. Luke had his hands in his pockets and y/n’s in hers but the distance between them couldn’t have been closer, like two magnets once again, hauling back into each other. When they had taken the fifteen-minute walk back to their dorm block, he walked with her all the way until they stood outside her door and only they could somehow make it awkward. 

They gave each other a small nod, as if to give a silent goodbye until y/n span on her heel, her arms winding around his torso against her better judgement. He blinked twice and froze, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged him so tight, she fit like a glove, and he’d forgotten how much he felt like he belonged somewhere, with someone when in her arms. He melted into her, arms wrapping around her shoulders and resting his lips to the top of her hair. The violent urge to kiss her, only a peck but he knew that if he kissed her once, it’d lead to more. It always did. 

Pulling away, she tilted her head up at him, hands holding the sides of his shirt while his glid to the tops of her shoulders. The silence thick, eyes searching for something, rolling tapes of lost memories they’d tried to forget: the treehouse, the boat, every second they even considered that they had a chance. Luke’s hands cupped her jaw, thumbs caressing over her cheekbones as he licked his lips. Her grip tightened, mouth parting and leaning onto her tiptoes while he dipped down, breaths tying together, noses bumping. He said he wouldn’t do it, she said she didn’t want to do it but in the end all they ever ended up doing was intertwining back into each other. Their lips ghosted, eyelashes fluttering against their cheeks until lips grazed in the slightest. 

The reality of the situation crashed down upon her heavily, like getting caught in a hailstorm. She was a strong soldier, she could resist. Everything would circle back like it always did. They would kiss, things would be fine and then he’d disappear. If it can happen once, it can happen again, and again and again until one of them stopped the chase. Luke would just hurt her again; she would just look for guys to fill the hole in her heart he made when he would leave, and the self-destruction had to stop at some point. Her eyes snapped open, and she nudged him back lightly, “No. I-I can’t do this, Lu.” 

Luke’s world darkened, a hollow sorrow washing through him as he let her push him away. Pathetically, he looked at her, a pleading guilt jabbing him in the stomach as his hands yearned to reach out for her. They hung by his sides instead and she inhaled deeply, shakily.

“I don't get it. One minute I’m everything to you and the next it’s like I don’t exist…you keep coming back at random times like nothing’s happened, at times when I think that you don’t want me anymore…it’s just so- so confusing! I feel like I’m always waiting on you to make up your mind, Luke.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, the defeat rising inside her. “You like me and then you don’t and I can’t keep playing cat and mouse all the time. Thank you for picking me up and looking out for me, but until you’ve figured out what you want, please leave me be.” 

 Like that, she was gone. Turned away and retreated to her dorm, leaving him standing like a lost puppy in the hallway. He didn’t want to cry, not there at least but how he’d managed to make things worse, he couldn’t say. All he knew is that she was right, and that was the part that hit him the hardest. He knew his answer, he knew he did want her and was going to give them one last chance, but she didn’t know that. From her perspective, he was just getting close to running away, hoping she’d chase him back but now she wasn’t. The next time they’d meet would either be the last of everything they built, or the start of something new.

When y/n stepped into her dorm looking like she’d been through several horrendous break-ups and four bushes backwards, Bella jolted up from her bed, scrambling out her covers. Y/n told her everything. Everything from her mess with Luke to Tony ditching her. The good, the bad and the ugly about the whole story and while Bella was pissed about the latter, even she could see Luke in a battle of his own. 

“Have you ever considered that Luke’s…y’know…scared?” Bella asked, leaning against the bathroom door frame, eyes meeting y/n’s in the mirror as she scrubbed the mascara from her face. 

As if she couldn’t have made the ordeal any messier than it was, she feared she just had out of her own borderline selfishness. She hadn’t considered his side of the story. Ever.

*

One intensely lit house with LED light strips covering the walls, pulsing and flashing changing colours in beat with the music blaring through the speakers, two girls weaved their way through a sea of bodies into the kitchen, five boys hovering in the living room, making conversation with sophomores in the frat. 

Their first frat party as freshmen and the nerves were skyrocketing. The only reason y/n and Bella went was because Dylan had invited y/n, and she begged Bella to tag along since it would be a fun experience and so she didn’t have to go alone. So far, so good. They’d lost count of how many drinks they’d poured, shots taken, people spoken to, they were just girls. 

The boys were on a mission. Well, Luke was, the boys were just orchestrating events and giving Luke multiple pep-talks about it being ‘now or never’. They were right, of course. Luke had just over a week of no contact, a week for staring at his reflection in the mirror, lying in bed at night staring at the ceiling, thinking, planning, anticipating and now it would all stop. 

Ethan lined up his shot, ping pong ball loosely held between his fingers, and he released, biting his lip as the ball bounced into the opposing team’s cup. The boys cheered, throwing each other into fist bumps and bro-hugs, a few girls applauding around them. Y/n and Bella stood within that surrounding crowd, Mark wiggling them to the front as if they were VIPs, part of their group. When Luke’s turn came around, she noticed the fan club he’d gained, pretty girls giggling and whispering between each other, cheering when Luke’s shot landed in the cup. She ran her tongue over her top teeth, a lethal glare on the girls as they tried to loop their arms around Luke’s, but her muscles relaxed seeing Dylan and Mackie stand beside him, ushering the girls back. 

Bella nudged her, leaning over to murmur in her ear, “Something tells me he’s made up his mind.”

Y/n opened her mouth, but Mark stumbled over his feet in front of them, asking if they fancied another drink (of course they did) and taking both their wrists gently with a goofy grin on his face, leading them through the people, brushing past a couple guys in the doorway whose eyes followed them towards the back corner of the kitchen, where the rest of the guys had managed to claim. Mark was sweet, baby faced and a ball of sunshine with contagious energy, ensuring they were in the circle securely. He ushered y/n between himself and Luke, Bella on the other side with Dylan and Mackie but no matter how tucked away she was in the boys, the looming gaze of someone else clawed at her. 

Ten minutes passed, the group still in a deep conversation amongst themselves and she peered back over her shoulder again, the - presumably older guy, maybe a senior - still watching her every move like a hawk, leaning into his friend and pointing at her with smirks. There’s nothing more terrifying in a woman’s life than knowing you’re being watched because being watched means there’s a further plan. If she had known she was being watched at the carnival, she could have moved somewhere else but now, she did know she was being watched and her legs paralysed, staying where she was would keep her safe. But she wanted to run, run home, run to her bed, run to her dorm where she couldn’t be found, and security cameras lined the halls. The only security blanket keeping her heart from palpitating was Mark and Luke beside her, yet the guy didn’t seem bothered by that at all.

There were too many people to run, the kitchen too crowded to slip away without getting caught by him but any longer being stared down by the guy and tears may have fallen, making the whole situation worse. Until she stepped to the side, bumping into a familiar arm. An arm that snaked around her torso and hand settled on her hip, tucking her into his side while he casually continued his conversation with Dylan. He held her close so naturally as if embedded into his autopilot, an instinct. Excitement bubbled in her stomach, exploding in her chest when Luke kissed her hair, watching the guy from across the room disappear from his peripheral vision. The guy may have been watching y/n, but Luke had been watching the guy the entire time, flashbacks from the carnival haunting him. Even if she were to shove him away, the least he could do was keep her safe from the start this time. Y/n didn’t shove him away, she leant into him like putty melding to his form, if she was with him, all the nerves disintegrated. 

“No, that’s what I’m saying!” Ethan’s voice raised above, turning from Mark as he turned to the rest of the group, “Okay, is anyone else down for shots? I have this spinner game.” 

In a group agreement, Ethan pulled his phone out, loading up said spinner game and showing his screen. The spinner had different shots on a wheel, from tequila to whiskey to rum to vodka to body shots, the aim to spin and take whatever the arrow landed on. Ethan spun first, resulting in his fate being sealed by whatever whiskey they found lying around the counters. The shot burned unpleasantly down his throat, but anything for a good time. Mackie spun next, taking a dance with tequila and if he had learnt something that night, it was that him and tequila were not fated to be lovers. Both Dylan and Bella took their vodka shots with their arms intertwined with each other. Luke took his turn, unbothered by what his result was until the arrow landed on a body shot. He shook his head smiling, the guys allowing him to choose his partner. 

Y/n tugged on his t-shirt, gesturing her head towards the island counter behind Mark and Ethan. The group grinned, a concoction of ‘oooh’ and ‘yeah’ filling the corner as she hoisted herself onto the marble, Luke standing between her legs and receiving his tequila shot from Dylan. She tugged the strap of her tank top over her shoulder slightly, giving Luke enough room to sprinkle the line of salt on the crook of her neck while Mark returned with a slice of lime. Luke’s eyes met hers, giving her a look of reassurance, a kind look asking her if she was all right. She licked her lips, that familiar coquettish look blazing back at him just like in the treehouse last summer. Tequila burned down his throat, tongue licking the salt from her neck, scenarios of slow and wet kisses across the skin, his teeth sinking into her tearing through her imagination, y/n struggling to keep quiet but when his mouth had found her sweet spot like that, she wanted nothing more than for him to devour her then and there. 

He couldn’t have cared less about the salt, his face belonged buried in her neck and if he could rewind the clock just to repeat his actions then he would have. His hands steadied by her sides, heat flushing to his neck and the lime he was supposed to take next may as well have never existed. The opportunity was there, he could finally show her his decision, how he felt and what he wanted. The audience around them didn’t matter, to him, it was just him and y/n in some random frat’s kitchen, a simple body shot doing God’s work but Ethan rigging the game earning the MVP award for the night. He emerged from her neck, parting his lips slightly and falling weak to her and he was done with keeping her waiting. 

Pulling the lime from her lips, he tossed it aside, both hands cupping her jaw, the world stopping entirely when their lips met hastily. He kissed her like every time before, heavy and with meaning, like it screamed a thousand different tequila flavoured ways to convey his feelings. Her hands delicately placed themselves over his, keeping him close, keeping him in and pressed into her, shockwaves over her body and she melted into him with parting lips. Their friends cheered and hooted, clinking their shot glasses together but it fell deaf upon Luke and y/n, their tongues tangled in a bruising, breathless kiss until they had to pull away for air. His lips pulled into a grin, thumbs soothing over her cheeks as her eyes slowly widened with a smile spreading across her face. 

Luke dipped closer to her ear, hands falling to her hips and murmured, “It’s always been you.” 

“Let’s go somewhere quieter-” she turned her head towards him, lips close to his ear, but Dylan slapped Luke’s back and yelled something about their room being off limits for the night as he passed, Bella dragging him through the kitchen. 

Luke’s eyebrows raised upon initially entering y/n’s room, a homely feeling embracing him when she switched the fairy lights on, and they ditched their shoes next to the door. Y/n waved him over to her bed, her back against the headboard and he followed, squeezing next to her, arm wrapping around her shoulders and tucking her into his chest. They knew they owed each other a talk, their sides of the story, the rise and the fall. Luke needed to explain, and she needed to confess, the longer they pretended like it wasn’t eating them alive the thicker that wedge between them became.

“I didn’t like Cameron at all, I only went out with him to make you jealous. I thought you’d get protective…” she said, Luke humming in acknowledgement, “I just wanted that little confirmation that I mattered.”

“Yeah, it worked. But you always mattered, s’why I’ve been trying all this time to ask you out.” He mumbled, his voice seductively low, rumbling through his chest.

“Then what were you gonna say at the end of summer, because I know it wasn’t supposed to be about the beach.” 

Luke inhaled deeply, his hand snaking to her waist and settling on her hip, “I was gonna ask you on a date to the arcade we loved as kids…but then I freaked out and got scared again…” 

“Why were you scared, Lu? What was there to be scared of?” She couldn’t get the pieces to click, and Luke grew frustrated, admitting things was not an easy job. 

“Y/n, I’ve loved you my entire life, everything was to be scared of. I thought you didn’t like kissing me, then you went on a date with what's-his-face, then Cameron and somewhere between there I don’t know, I thought it was over for me, that we were just friends. I thought I’d lost you after all those years of trying.”  He rambled, the pent-up words falling from his mouth, but he didn’t sound annoyed, not once. If anything, the weight that latched itself onto Luke’s shoulders lifted the more he rambled. 

She had been right; she hadn’t thought about his perspective on everything. He’d done nothing but put her first, hold her hand, kiss her, accompany her, rescue her, be the boyfriend she never had, and she threw him to the side for some guy as if he never mattered. Then wondered why he was so far away. Perhaps she would’ve reacted the same, after all, seeing someone you love with another isn’t a burden easy to bear. Guilt choked her hard, he knew all along what he wanted, and she’d just made it difficult to confess. Really shitty but she was part of the problem Luke battled.

“You never lost me, Lu,” with glossy eyes and a delicate touch to his jaw, she turned his head to face her, “we’ve been close for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s why I was scared. I can’t just be friends with you and last summer we weren’t just friends, y/n. Last summer meant everything to me and I really hoped you’d be my girl and well, I fucked that up.” His eyes flickered to her lips, he should have felt bad as tears welled in her eyes, but he finally, with the liquid courage from earlier, could get the words out how he wanted. 

Her lip quivered, hand cupping the nape of his neck and her thumb leaving feathery touches over his jaw, a tear breaking through and slipping down her cheek, “Me too. Is there a chance…I can still be your girlfriend?”

“You think I kissed you for shits and giggles?” He leaned in, half on his own and half with the prompt of her pulling him closer, pressing their lips together tentatively, a warmth of familiarity blooming through them like flowers in their lungs. But those flowers weren’t choking them anymore, they weaved between their ribcages and bones like a garden of bliss and beauty, pollinating their hearts with desire. 

He licked across her bottom lip, tongue finding hers in a languid rhythm while his free hand wrapped around her thigh, pulling her over to straddle his lap. Y/n moaned into the kiss, relaxing under his hands gliding over every inch of her waist and back, pressing her body into his with lips disconnecting with strings of saliva between them. He smothered her neck in electrifying butterfly kisses, from her ear down to the crook of her neck to that sweet spot he’d found earlier, nipping at the skin until her fingers laced in his curls, tugging and drawing a deep, raw groan from his chest. 

Luke’s hands, hot and calloused, snuck under her top, slowly following the natural curve of her spine and waist, the fabric rising the further he explored, thumbs teasing her underside of her breasts along the lace of her bra. Lace. The concept of y/n wearing lace underwear sent shivers down his spine, heat to his dick and his hips bucked up as if a reflex, but it wasn’t the first time he’d imagined it. A high-pitched whimper escaped her lips, little sparks flushing over her skin the further her top seemed to hike up her body until Luke bunched the fabric at her chest, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the end of her bed, his warm lips attacking her collarbones with little nips disguised by kisses before sucking pink blossoms along her skin to her tits, his large hands cupping and kneading. 

“No fair,” her fingers tugged at the back of his t-shirt, clumsily pulling it up his back. He let out a low chuckle into her skin before sitting straight, discarding the clothing over his head and setting his hands on her waist. She’d seen him hundreds of times before, but this was different, this was private. “So fucking pretty, Lu. Just wanna…”

“Just wanna what?” he purred, leaning back into the headboard and adjusting his hips up against her, his jeans failing to hide his solid cock bumping her crotch. “If you’re gonna talk dirty to me, you gotta use your words, pretty girl. I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

She gasped, pussy fluttering at the friction and her dreamy gaze brought his cocky smirk back to his lips. Luke’s hands gripped her hips tighter, guiding them to roll over his dick once more, twice more, until her nails dug into his shoulders for stability, inner core burning like fire with every brush against her clit, panties sticking to her folds in ways that disgraced her dignity. It felt so good, she felt good, just dry humping alone had her jaw slacking and little pants of air slipping through her lips all while Luke tilted his head back, grinning ear to ear with his eyes closed, cock throbbing painfully. He wouldn’t have cared if he came right then and there, in his boxers that he would sure have to wear in the morning. 

She took his hands off her hips, gliding them up her body until they reached her back, his fingers meeting the clasp of her bra as she slid the straps over her shoulders, a sultry yet so encouraging look smeared across her face. He struggled slightly with the clasp, but her hands cupping his face rid of the embarrassment before it had even hit, the underwear falling from her body and discarded to the floor. Luke licked his lips, her hands finding their way to his and placing them over her tits, an invitation to explore how he pleased. His ears tinted pink again, eyes unable to leave the view of his hands timidly groping her chest and every thought he’d been having up until that moment blanked. Soft, so soft and squishy, God he could do that forever, sleep on them until the end of time. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, her back arching into him and y/n let out an airy whimper, tilting her head back. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, y/n,” he hummed, one hand lying flat on her back as he dipped down, pressing wet kisses to her tit, taking the peak between his lips and swirling his tongue leisurely around her nipple. His other hand wrapped around her other breast, groping and squishing it, pinching the nipple between his fingers until her airy whimpers increased into lewd cries of his name, a whirling warmth in her throbbing cunt. He released her - now wet - tit, breathing heavily with disbelief. He’d just sucked his childhood crush, long-time friend’s tit, in her room and she was really half naked on his lap, definitely feeling how hard he was against her pussy, and he loved every second of this animalistic yearning coursing through him.

Y/n’s hands trailed down his chest, over every dip and definition of his muscles until they fumbled with his belt, mind becoming hazy at the memory of the way she looked at him the last time she’d taken him in her mouth, the pleasant challenge of getting his tip to hit the back of her throat, his whimpering and begging replaying in her ears. Sliding backwards down his legs, she barely got her mouth anywhere near his cock before his fingers wrapped around her neck, pressing firmly on the sides and pulling her back up to his eye level, her heart pulsing in her ears with the condescending look on his face. He slotted his mouth on hers to find her tongue again, saliva pooling at the corner of their lips and they didn’t hate it. She shouldn’t have enjoyed the compression as much as she did, but his hands were so much bigger on her body, like he could crush her and her eyes threatened to roll to the back of her head, a strained moan gasping out. 

“Please,” she whined between kisses, “taste so good, so big, need you.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s my turn.” He looked down at her before releasing her throat, winding an arm around her and flipping her onto her back underneath him. He painted her body with gentle kisses, from the valley of her breasts, down her stomach to the top of her shorts, smoothly unbuttoning them and pulling the zip down with his teeth, “Been thinkin’ about how you taste. Can I?”

He peered up at her through his eyelashes, watching y/n prop herself onto her elbows and lick her lips. She paused, the silence comfortable as he waited for her consent, “Yeah, please…this is just…never done this before.” 

Luke kissed her stomach before sitting onto his knees, giving her a warm, reassuring smile before hooking his fingers around the waist of her shorts, “Neither. We’ll figure it out, okay?” 

She nodded, smiling, lifting her hips and letting him slide the clothing down her legs and ditching them somewhere on the floor. He straddled back over her, running his hands over her bare legs before dipping down to place a hot kiss on her clothed clit, sparks skimming over his body by how sopping her panties were. 

She whimpered quietly, watching him begin to lower himself before she placed her foot onto his shoulder, pushing him back onto his knees, head lulling into her shoulder with a desperate tint in her eyes, “Jeans, off.”

The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he slid off the bed, kicking his jeans and socks off and crawling back over her, settling between her legs again. His fingers re-hooked around her waistband, gliding her panties down her legs leaving tingles like feathers along the skin in their wake before she removed her legs from them one by one. He threw of leg over his shoulders, laying on his stomach and left slow kisses along her inner thigh, nipping at the skin to pull a squeal from her and sucking over the spot until a purple blotch marked. One hand lay splayed over her lower stomach, his other holding her other leg slightly apart, enough to catch a view of her glistening folds and give him room to spread them open with his thumb. 

“Fuck, gonna need you to use your words here, pretty girl.” His voice was gruff, breath hitting her sensitivity, and she lulled her head back, readjusting herself on her elbows because there was no way she would miss watching him devour her. His thumb circled her clit dubiously, eyes peeking up at her and even though the sensation didn’t hit just right yet, having any sort of attention to a virgin clit still sent pleasure to her head.

“Little firmer, little faster-oh!” she explained, Luke following her instructions as she spoke until the sensation hit her like a brick, jolting through her, jaw falling slack, “Like that, Lu, shit.”

He grinned, running his other thumb through her folds, spreading the slick before taking his thumb into his mouth, eyes locked into hers, licking and relishing in the way she tasted and humming into the heaven that consumed him. Sinking lower into her mattress, he drew his hand away from her clit, hand pressing down on her stomach and other wrapping her thigh around his shoulder, tongue flicking at her bundle of nerves, small kisses, nipping, sucking until she raked her fingers through his curls, pushing him into her cunt. He ran his tongue through her folds, lapping at the pussy juices without a care about how loud he was being, nose bumping into her clit, her jaw falling agape and helpless mewls slipped through her lips as she bucked her hips up pathetically. He could have eaten her out all day, his new favourite place to hide that graced him with the most beautiful, pornographic noises from his favourite person. He couldn’t help himself, there was too much ecstasy intoxicating him that he barely noticed himself rutting his cock into the mattress the hungrier he dipped into her.

He pulled back momentarily, lips vibrating against her cunt that had her wines drawn-out and fingers tugging at his curls in a way that tore guttural groans from him, “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, all fuckin’ mine.” 

He dove back in, hands pinning her to the bed and plunging his tongue into her, moaning against her folds so harsh they reverberated through her body, making every hair stand on end. He lifted his head up, middle finger tracing through her folds and sliding inside her easily, a wave of fire washing over her, and his ring finger entered alongside, Luke pumping them in precise and careful motions while watching the way her face contorted with pleasure. 

“That’s it, good girl,” he cooed, his name falling from her mouth like a song. He curled his fingers, realising he’d hit the right spot when her breath hitched and whimpered out, “so loud f’me, that’s it, taking my fingers so well.”

“There, right there, Luke! Don’t stop!” 

His fingers thrusted in and out of her with a rhythm, cherishing the warmth and completely obsessed how she stretched out for him, biting his lip and petting her g-spot as she squirmed, his hand on her stomach keeping her still. He drew his fingers out, taking them into his mouth, eyes almost fluttering closed at the taste until he dove straight back into her pussy, messily letting his tongue work its magic with his nose hitting her clit with each dip.

“Lu! Luke, please Luke,” she sobbed out desperately, free hand gripping the bedsheets. She couldn’t believe he’d never gone down on a woman before, he ate her like a starved man, so many pleasures triggering at once, her body and mind completely short-circuited, and she was left with filthy whines and incoherent sentences. “Gonna cum, let me cum, please-”

Her words dissipated into the air, eyes rolling back as the brutality of his tongue lapped and assaulted mercilessly, arousal coating his chin as he attempted to pull her impossibly closer. He’d never thought he’d be so pussydrunk on someone before, especially going in with only the knowledge his friends had given him after many late-night conversations in random car parks of fast-food restaurants. The coil in her stomach tightened, eyes squeezing shut and she was so close to that final release until cold air fanned her pussy. Eyes snapping open, she whipped her head forward to see Luke staring at her with wild eyes, arousal dripping from his chin and her fingers slipped from his hair as he sat on his knees, her legs falling and wrapping around his hips as he wiped his face with his hand, licking the excess from his fingers. 

“Why’d you stop? I was so close.” She whined, but trailed off the further he tugged his boxers off, cock springing free, and he hovered over her, dipping down to kiss her softly, trailing from her lips, along her cheek to the shell of her ear.

“Want you to cum on my cock,” he purred, latching his teeth onto her collarbone, sucking until he’d left his mark, teasing her cunt by running his tip through her folds until her arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into the flexed muscles.

“Fuck, need you inside me, Lu,” she said in a small voice, unable to take the teasing anymore with a throbbing pussy and desperate need to be filled up, “m’on the pill, please, fuck me.”

“Ssh, I got you,” he murmured, inching his cock in painfully slow but the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Luke groaned into her shoulder, every vein, every nerve caressing her warm walls the further she swallowed his size. God, she felt so perfect, suited for him and for a moment he thought she’d struggle to take him until something about imagining the bulge in her stomach as she tried to take him made his cock twitch. Once he bottomed out, their lips met for a long kiss, her tongue darting into his mouth and muffling her moans as she adjusted to his size, core burning at how he stuffed her full and she craved more. 

Y/n’s nails massaged his scalp, tugging gently, “You can move,” she whispered.

He steadied his biceps either side of her head, rocking his hips back and forth languidly like she was made of glass until the little high-pitched whimpers sank into his skin, spurring him to increase his pace, feeling her tits bounce against his chest with every push in. Sweat formed on his forehead, curls beginning to stick as he huffed hot air into the crook of her neck.

“So tight, y/n, feel so fuckin’ good,” his lips laced her neck in sloppy kisses before sitting on his knees, hands on her hips in a vice grip as he drilled into her, gradually thrusting harder and faster the more his eyes locked on the bulge in her lower stomach. His splayed hand over it, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest, “so fuckin’ tight n’ look at that.”

“Feels s’good!” she cried, “Oh- yes, Lu, yes.”

Her nails dug into the sheets, fisting them as Luke snapped his hips, euphoria erratically zapping him as he watched the way his cock bulged and dipped with his thrusting, her walls clenching around him. She wailed out an erotic moan, mind fogging and the only sense working in her system being the way she could feel his cock pulse inside her, dragging along her walls and stuffing her full like he was meant to. 

“You feel me, babe? Feel how fuckin’ well your pretty pussy takes me?” A carnal desire controlled him like a puppet, the deeper he slammed his dick into her, the louder the slapping of skins and he leaned back down over her, feeling her arms struggle to embrace his much larger body and nails clawing angry marks into his skin as if marking her territory. He could get used it, no one else could make him feel the way she did. No one could make him want to fuck her with every drop of love and affection he had in him other than y/n. He wasn’t driving into her because he was horny, he wanted to be closer, feel purpose and comfort with being vulnerable and exposed and it just happened to be the most pervertedly enthralling experience of his life. 

“L-Lu! M’gonna c..cum.” she panted, letting drawn-out, wanton moans bounce off her dorm room walls the deeper he plunged his cock into her, “So big- let me cum, please.”

“Me too, pretty, me too.” He planted a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the salty sweat coating his tastebuds, he couldn’t have cared less, it wasn’t like he wasn’t drenched in sticky sweat too. 

She began to fall limp, her grip on him loosening as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the coil in her stomach unable to get any tighter and on its last legs. She didn’t want the high to end, the volume of the world starting to cut to white noise and vision blurry, Luke’s stuttering thrusts tearing an orgasm through her while he fucked her through his own, white, creamy release circling the base of his cock as his rutting slowed to a stop. He collapsed onto her chest, buring his face into her neck and panting falling in sync with hers. 

He pulled out, wiping the leaking cum from her thighs with his finger and taking in the last juices before nestling into her breasts. His eyes fell heavy when her fingers carded through his curls and with the little energy he had left, he kissed her cheek, “You did so well for me, such a good girl. Pretty fuckin’ noises just f’me.”

They lay in silence to muster up their energy, breathing patterns in sync, y/n tracing patterns over his back and Luke periodically leaving chaste kisses on her collarbone. The world couldn’t have been more perfect, even if their skins stuck together grossly, even if they had to sleep in cum-stained sheets for the night, he planned to help with cleaning those in the morning anyway. Y/n’s heart didn’t race with him anymore, it slowed with serenity of finally having a person, finally being able to breathe around him. There was truly no greater feeling than the tranquillity of devotion blooming through two lovers. 

Y/n tapped his back lightly, indicating that she needed to get up. He weakly crawled off, helping her by the hand and following her to her bathroom. They didn’t bother with privacy while she peed, they’d just had sex, what was there to hide now? What Luke did do, was wet a cloth y/n had pointed to him and do his best do wipe up any excess release off the mattress, highly aware that most if it would have dried by that point.

“Lu?” she called out quietly, poking her head from the bathroom. He turned his head, calmly, “You showering now or in the morning?” 

Something so simple, so domestic had his heart melting inside his chest, “I’ll go after you.”

She smiled, disappearing back into the bathroom. He picked up his clothes, folding them and placing them onto her desk chair. He folded her clothes next, hanging them on the back of her chair and pulling her pyjamas out from under her pillow, where she always put pyjamas, no matter where she was. Luke’s mind slowly functioned like normal again, the high of sex wearing down yet still giddy in his system. After years of pining, failing, chasing, crying, they finally fell into place. Was it worth it? Yeah, maybe. Was there an easier way? Absolutely, but he was younger then, scared and stupid. It didn’t matter anymore, he had his girl, and he loved her more than anything.

*

Y/n stirred, sleepy eyes opening to a weight on her chest, a grounding weight with long, unruly curls brushing against her lips ever so slightly, one palm cupped over her breast with his ear pressed to the other. Luke’s other arm managed to wind itself around her waist, trapped between the curve of her back and the mattress, one of her hands gently stroking through his hair and the other tracing the red scratch marks along his bare back. His breathing heavy but his face so peaceful and she smiled to herself. No, she didn’t think he’d run off before she’d woken up but she had entered university thinking it wouldn’t be him in her bed at all, but she was elated that it was. There wasn’t a better sight to see at eight in the morning. 

Luke’s eyes fluttered open, groaning deeply at his hair being played with and he nuzzled into her chest. He rasped, morning voice deep and husky, “Morning, beautiful.” 

“Good morning, pretty boy.” She smiled, pushing hair off his forehead. She wanted to wake up like that every day, tangled with Luke, him being the first person she saw, listened to. Even if he was much larger than she was, the pressure of him laying on her body was comforting, domestic even.

He shuffled around, removing his arm from around her waist, letting the blood flow back through it before propping himself onto his elbows. His eyes scanned her features, her sleepy eyes, tousled hair, the red bites on her collarbones and his lips pulled into a beatific and lazy grin.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked, his smile transferred to her infectiously and she cupped his cheek. 

“Thinkin’ about how much I love you, s’all.” 

Y/n’s chest warmed, fireworks exploding at her loverboy gazing at her with awe glazed over his eyes, the words falling onto her ears feeling right, bright and fresh like the first time the sun shines in the spring and all the new life begins. 

“I love you too,” she kissed his forehead, interrupted by his stomach rumbling, “breakfast?”

He threw back the duvet, scrambling off her and sighing at his clothes he folded on the chair, y/n shuffling around behind him before handing him his USA Hockey sweatshirt and a pair of shorts he’d left at her’s over the summer. He slipped his phone from his jeans pocket, how it had managed to stay tucked in there was beyond his knowledge and how it still had twenty-percent of battery was also a question for the deities above. 

Luke almost dropped his phone when two arms wrapped around his torso from behind, his cheeks burning from smiling and his stomach fluttering, “The guys wanna debrief in the dining hall.”

“Mmm’kay, but you know they’re gonna ask where we went last night, right? What do we say?” she peppered his back with kisses until he spun around, her arms still looped around his torso but now he could take her face into his hands.

“As if they’d remember, they’d be lucky to remember anything after doing shots.” He laughed, planting a kiss to her hair. 

Luke had been right. The boys and Bella all sat at one of the tables, coffees and bowls of cereals and plates of toast being poked at with hands cradling heads, hoods pulled over. Luke and y/n joined them, their own breakfast in front of them and slightly perkier than their friends.

“You guys look rough, long night?” Luke quipped, shoving cereal into his mouth. He didn’t feel too bad, but by the time he’d kissed y/n on the counter he’d sobered up. 

“Bro don’t even go there,” Mark grumbled, his face pale, “the last thing I remember is Ethan asking to do shots and beyond that is blank. Woke up on the floor in last night’s clothes.” 

“How the fuck are you okay, man? You were on beer and tequila!” Dylan complained, hoodie pulled high up his neck and drawstrings pulled tight, his hair dishevelled still. 

“No, no, there’s a more important question,” Mackie waved his spoon around at the group, giving Bella an encouraging side-eye, who kicked Ethan under the table.

“Ow, shit-” he hissed, but eventually catching the others drift. Y/n gulped, her breathing becoming shaky, and Luke’s hand found her knee, thumb caressing it softly as all eyes fell to the pair. What was she supposed to say now, anxiety fizzled in her stomach and Luke’s chest tightened. No, they weren’t ashamed but it’s not something you outwardly announce to people you’ve known just over a month, “Legend has it that there’s some deep lore going on here.”

Y/n exhaled, her breathing finding it’s pace again and Luke felt like he’d been freed of all his bounds. That…was not what they were expecting at all. They looked at each other uncertainly, shrugging before turning back to the others.

“Yeah, come on, do tell. If we’re gonna be friends, we gotta know the backstory of this whole thing we got roped into. We got time.” Mark leaned closer into the group, they all leaned closer as if they were about to hear the greatest secret of all time. 

They both sighed, Luke speaking up first, “Well, it all started when we were five-”

The retelling began, everyone invested in their cat and mouse game that demonstrated how naive and fragile the world can be. The rumble of the dining hall silenced out in their ears, and while one chapter closed for good, university would open another, but this time, they’d live it together where they’d be on the same page instead of skipping sections or tearing parts out. Luke got his girl and y/n got her romance, and neither would be stuck waiting on each other anymore.

small worlds | @bunbunbl0gs

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

2024 © STAR2FISHMEG All rights reserved - do not plagiarise/copy, translate, or repost any of my works. Please let me know if you notice that any of these have been done to my work.

Banners & dividers belong to @/cafekitsune

[hoshigray]

Had the most random thought, but what if you caught Miguel by surprise and sneaked a kiss on the back of his neck when he's stressed out?

An: Don't mind me, just feeling soft for Miguel because he's corrupting my brain at the moment, lol. Also, wanted to write this to distract me from the fact Pleasurable Practice got smacked with a community label ffs. But, tysm for the love on that fic <33, and [MAYBE] I'll work on pt ii for next week! Thanks again, you lovelies, and enjoy!!

Edited Note: Also, here's an ATSV masterlist I made earlier for your convenience!!

Cw: Miguel x reader - fluff - stressed Miguel bc when is he not - you give him a kiss on the neck - pet names (amorcito/little love, mi alma/my soul; amor/my love) - just you and Miguel being adorbs and him being whipped hehe~

Wc: 902

"Aaaaaarrgh!!!"

You snap away from what you were doing to find where the noise came from. Not to your surprise, it's from your boyfriend — Miguel O'Hara, who's expressing his dismay by throwing another tray full of empty containers you got from the cafeteria.

The man is descending from his [godforsaken slow-ass] station, tapping his feet and huffing by the second. His brows are furrowed in anger, and he moves a hand to soothe his forehead with his fingers. When his post finally stops, he jumps down to sit on a chair and groans into his hands.

That was the third time this week. A villain was supposed to be captured and brought into the Spider Society to be sent back to their own universe; however, that was two days ago. And for some reason, this evil-doer has been hopping in and out of multiple universes. It's been a hassle for the other Spiders to grab hold of them; Lyla has to have eyes on them within every minute of every hour, and Miguel...Obviously, he would like to have this matter taken care of already.

You get up from where you're sitting and walk up behind Miguel, whose face is still covered by his hands with inaudible curses that you can tell are in Spanish. "You okay?"

The rise and fall of his broad shoulders entail a huge sigh seething out of his system. "No, mi amor." He frees his face only to rest his forehead with a hand propped by his leg. "This game of cat-and-mouse has been going on longer than necessary, got Spiders who're tired of the chase — I'm tired, yet there's more stuff piling up and—" He stops himself with another deep sigh, and you place your hands on his shoulders. "I just can't right now...."

All you can do is hum aimlessly while massaging his shoulders, his trapezius and deltoids tense with stress. You understand that a lot is going on for Miguel, giving him his space and letting him do what he does best: being a hero. But of course, being a superhero isn't all sunshine and rainbows, and you're bound to get hit with obstacles that'll hinder your progress. Annoyingly so, if you're a leader of an organization like your boyfriend.

Nevertheless, he's only one man, and you know he forgets this fact when he's too wrapped up in work. He's dedicated to protecting his peers, his home, and you. And although you appreciate the sentiment sincerely, you wish he'd remember to not go too hard on himself before he's burnt out.

You sigh through your nostrils, your hands kneading out any remnants of tension while Miguel indulges before storming back to work. That's when an idea hits you when your eyes land on the back ends of his hair, a smile creeping in slowly. Your hand brushes the lower tufts of his brown strands, and you lean down to press your soft lips on him after pulling his suit to expose his neck.

Immediately, Miguel goes rigid at the feeling of your lips on him. And his breath hitches when your hands wrap around him, pulling him closer to you as you lay your chin on top of his head (which you realize is a rare opportunity as he's taller than you).

"Mi lindo araña," You chuckle to yourself when you notice hints of red sneaking on the lobes of his ears. "The more you stress yourself, the more you look like a grouchy face."

"A grouchy face?" His tone holds slight confusion. "You've been hanging with Peter B. too much, amorcito." He shakes his head while you giggle, and you two sink into each other's presence for a little while, taking in the silence outside of the calming breaths Miguel takes. If he were to confess, it's as if almost all his fatigue has vanished into thin air when he's in your embrace. But he doesn't say anything — he doesn't have to. Because you already know.

You set your lips on his temple. "Feeling okay now?" His body vibrates from a tiny purr, and you remove yourself to stand up straight. "Alright then, I'm gonna go to the cafeteria to get something to share. Because you clearly need a snack. And while I'm gone, pick up that tray and those empty containers off the floor before Lyla has another reason to call you a 'grumpy man-child.'"

His face molds to a deep scowl from the mention of his pixelated peer's name-calling. "I am not a man-child."

You give him a look. "You kinda are."

"And what gives you that—"

"Muñeco," Miguel quickly refrains from arguing when you call him by his nickname, the name only you can use. "If you're not a man-child, why haven't you stood up and done what I asked yet?"

The man opens his mouth, yet no words dare leave. Reddish-brown eyes are honed in on your figure as you survey his reaction, and he exhales in defeat when he stands up from his chair. Your smile flourishes. "I'll be back," is what you say as you turn to exit his domain and head to the cafeteria.

Miguel watches you leave until you're out of his line of sight, unable to fight the twinge of his lips while he moves to pick up his mess like you instructed him to.

"Sólo tú puedes darme órdenes, mi alma."

[homesick4la]

closer — hamzahthefantastic

contains: 18+ content, mdni!!! losing virginity, fingering, inexperienced reader

a/n: this is like a part 2 to intimate so read that one first if u want lol also i did not proofread sorry

days had passed since the night hamzah had went down on you. days since he slipped his fingers right inside of you and made you suck them clean.

embarrassingly, it was all you could think about. all that occupied your mind was an overwhelming craving for more.

of course, you were nervous over the idea of losing your virginity. you couldn’t help but stress over the possibility of it going horribly wrong.

but since that night, you felt ready.

you just weren’t sure how to approach the situation. everytime you tried to mention it to hamzah, you backed out- feeling too awkward to explain to him how badly you wanted to take that next step with him.

but now, while your sat on his couch, watching him finish editing a video- the urge to admit how desperately you needed him was too strong to ignore.

you were completely infatuated with him. the way his finger clicked on the mouse so gently. the way he let out a frustrated sigh when making a mistake. each move he made and every sound that left his throat drove you absolutely insane.

“hamzah?” you question, still sat on the couch behind him.

“yeah?”

“you almost done?”

“almost- come sit with me while i finish up.” he said, turning his desk chair around and motioning to his lap.

you walk over to him and straddle his lap, placing your chin on his shoulder as he turns his chair back towards his desk.

you play with the curls at the nape of his neck while continues frantically typing on his keyboard. every so often, one of his hands gently caresses your back.

after a few minutes, you hear his typing start to slow. this is followed by the sound of him clicking away the various open browsers on his computer.

“all done.” he says, sounding relieved.

you sit up to face him.

“finally.” you smile and he presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

“what’d you wanna do with the rest of the night? go to a movie? or we could go get ice cream- there’s that really good spot in downtown,”

“uhm i dunno, i thought we could stay here.” you reply shyly, praying he understands what you’re trying to imply despite the vagueness of your statement.

“okay, yeah. let’s stay in. did you wanna like order food or something?”

god you wish he could just read your mind.

“no, actually i wanted to talk to you about something.” you explain, already feeling nervous.

“oh- okay.” he replies, his brown eyes scanning your face.

“it’s embarrassing.” you hide your face, laying back on his shoulder.

“c’mon, you know you can tell me anything.” he rubs your back assuringly.

you lift your face once again, looking in his eyes before you speak.

“i’ve just been thinking about the other night, a lot.”

“baby, that’s not embarrassing,” he grins. “i’ve been thinking about it too,” he lays his hand softly on your cheek.

you can’t help but smile at him.

“yeah?” you question, earning an eager nod from hamzah. “you ever think about going all the way with me?” you asks, your voice low.

“of course, i do.” he answers, his voice just as low. you feel his chest start to rise and fall faster than before.

“i’m ready for it.” you place your hand on top of his hand on your cheek.

“are you sure?” he looks directly in your eyes as he asks you the question.

“yeah. if you don’t wanna do it right now though, that’s totally fine! we can do something else, one of the things you suggested-“ you ramble.

“no no no, i want to!” he cuts you off. “just wanna make sure you’re a hundred-percent sure.”

you respond by nodding before connecting your lips with his. you kissed him hungrily.

in an instant, his hands slid under your thighs and he gets up out of his desk chair- carrying you into his bedroom.

he lays you on his bed and immediately climbs over you, wasting no time to connect your lips once again. his hands roam your body aimlessly as your hands play with hem of his shirt before helping him get rid of it.

he pulls off your sweater and leaves sloppy kisses on your collar bone before reaching to unclip your bra.

“so beautiful,” he says in awe of the sight in front of him. he leans down, taking one nipple into his mouth before giving equal attention to the other.

the sensation of his mouth on you feels heavenly. you whimper and hamzah’s hands find their way to top of your jeans- fingers now fiddling with the button of them.

he helps you slide them down your legs and you kick them to the side before he removes his own jeans.

his fingers trace the band of your underwear and he pauses, “you doing okay?”

he was so worried about advancing too quickly, making you uncomfortable. he wanted everything to be perfect for you.

“i’m good. promise.” you nod and he attaches his mouth to yours once again.

you reach for the band of his boxers before his hand stops you.

“wait- gonna make you come first.” he kisses you again. “help you relax.”

you nod in response and he takes note of the way you spread your legs wider for him.

his fingers wander across the silky material of your underwear, pressing against the already wet fabric.

you whimper as his fingers stroke you up and down. the friction of your underwear feeling both intoxicating and infuriating. all you wanted was more, more, more.

“you like that?” he questions, already knowing the answer. he saw the way your chest quickly rose up and down. the way you bit your lip in attempt to contain your desperate noises.

you nod rapidly and you watch as the expression on his face transitions from slightly nervous to completely sure of himself.

a striking contrast from his usual awkward demeanor.

he couldn’t help but feel confident hovering over you. not when you were left breathless from his touch and utterly soaked without him even having to slip his hand under your panties.

“beg for it.” he grins, his fingers still stroking the outside of your underwear excruciatingly slow.

“what?” you breath out.

“beg for my fingers. tell me how much you want me to touch you right now.” the right side of his mouth lifts into a cocky smile.

he knows exactly how needy you are and you’re simply to caught up in it to be embarrassed.

“i want you so bad, hamzah. please, just- touch me.” you whimper.

that’s all it takes for him to be pulling down you underwear and pressing his thumb to your clit as one of his fingers slip inside of you.

at the same time, he leans down and connects his lips with yours. he kisses you urgently and soon enough his tongue is rhythmically moving with yours- matching the pace of his finger sliding in and out of you.

the moment a second finger enters you, you begin having trouble kissing him back as your left absolutely breathless.

noticing this, hamzah moves from your lips to the sweet spot on your neck. he sucks and nips at the skin in a manner that leaves you moaning uncontrollably.

“fuck my hand, baby.” he whispers against your neck.

you shyly start moving your hips, pushing them forward in sync with his fingers. you eventually grow more confident in your movements- shamelessly riding his fingers.

“atta girl.” he praises as you feel his lips turn to a smile against the skin of your neck.

you shut your eyes tightly- the feeling of his fingers deep inside of you leaving you in ecstasy.

with the added pressure of his thumb circling at your clit, you feel yourself coming completely undone.

he can tell your almost there when your movements turn frantic.

he continues kissing up the side of your neck, across your collarbone, all over your breasts.

amongst these kisses, he whispers praises and repeats your name as if he’s reciting a prayer.

this leaves you crying out and gasping for air as your orgasm fully takes over you.

he keeps his fingers in motion until your orgasm subsides. he then removes his fingers, still covered in your wetness, and brings them up towards your mouth.

he traces your bottom lip with both fingers before you instinctually part your lips, allowing him to push them into your mouth. you suck his fingers clean just as you had only a few days ago.

once you release them, he leans down and presses a gentle kiss to your lips.

he pulls away, pushing away the baby hairs that had fallen across your forehead.

“you drive me crazy y/n.” he says softly, his dark brown eyes staring into yours.

you smile at him before lifting your head up to kiss him.

“i want you so bad, hamzah.” you beg, seeking more of him. you were craving a more intimate connection.

“my needy girl”, he teases. “i’ll be right back.”

you watch as he walks to his bathroom, coming back with a foil condom wrapper in between his fingers.

“you’re a hundred-percent sure about this?” he questions once again.

“yes. hamzah, i’m sure.” you reassure him.

he slides off his boxers, revealing his erection. nerves arise in your stomach as he slips the ring of rubber over his thick length.

climbing back over you, he notices the nervous expression on your face.

“i’ll be gentle.” he kisses the top of your forehead, “and if it’s too much, you’re gonna tell me and we’ll stop, ‘kay?” he stares into your eyes, waiting for your response.

“okay.” you nod.

he fingers wrap around his shaft and he begins running his erection through your folds. you moan at the sensation.

he uses one hand to hold himself up while the other traces your arm soothingly.

when he pushes just the head of his erection inside of you, you’re left with slight discomfort due to him stretching you so wide.

you take deep breaths as he works his way inside of you, one inch at a time.

“fuck- you’re so tight.” he breaths out. “you okay?”

“yeah, yeah- just give me a second.” he remains still inside of you as he leaves sweet kisses across your collarbone.

once you’ve adjusted to feeling so full, you let him know to start moving.

before pulling out and pushing back into you, he slides the hand laying on your arm to your hand, raising your arm above your head and interlocking your fingers together.

his thrusts start off slow and smooth but as he feels your body relax underneath him, he begins increasing his pace.

soon enough, your bodies colliding together quickly. the room filled with the sound of your skin hitting and the squeaking of the bed beneath you.

you never could’ve imagined that you’re first time would feel so good, you always pictured your nerves getting in the way of your pleasure.

but with hamzah, it was so easy to feel comfortable, to just let go and enjoy the moment.

“fuck- you feel so good y/n.” he whimpers. “you’re doing so good, baby.”

all you can do is nod and let out a shuddered sigh in response.

with each thrust, it feels like hamzah gets deeper inside you, hitting places that make you feel like you’re floating.

“i’m so close, hamzah.” you cry, feeling your second orgasm build.

“i’m not gonna last much longer either.” he answers.

he unlocks his fingers from yours and reaches down to rub your clit.

this puts you over the edge, you’re a breathless, whining mess as you squeeze your inner walls around him.

this causes his cock to twitch inside you and a choked groan to leave his lips. you weave your fingers through his dark curls as he comes.

witnessing pleasure wash over his face is one of the most memorizing sights you’ve ever seen.

he collapses on top of you. his body warm and sweaty- your damp skin sticks together.

you run your nails along his back, feeling the muscles of his shoulders relax.

“how was it?” he questions, his head still buried in the crook of your neck.

“it was perfect hamzah.”

he hums pleasantly against your neck. you lie together for a while.

you smile to yourself, enjoying the moment. his skin on yours, his body weighing on you, his lips smushed against your neck.

you had never felt closer to him.

you were completely encapsulated by his warmth, wishing it would last forever.

a/n: i never know how to end a fic lol also why is writing smut so embarrassing i am cringing at the fact that i just wrote this…lol..hope u guys like it tho… k bye muah

[mickyschumacher]

𝐒𝐓𝐘𝐋𝐄 .ೃ࿐

𝐒𝐔𝐌𝐌𝐀𝐑𝐘: carlos sainz and you have an on and off relationship: full of an alluring pain. and no matter what, it seems you two always come back to one another. 𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

𝐖𝐀𝐑𝐍𝐈𝐍𝐆𝐒: 18+ (minors DNI), infidelity, toxic relationship, reader has a vagina, unprotected sex (wrap it up like a gift!), reader slaps carlos, crying, ANGST, carlos bordering on being a sadist, cumming inside, fingering in the car, that being said - dangerous car driving, oral sex, incorrect model stuff probs, severely poorly utilised spanish, probs poorly written smut lol, probably missing plot holes but yeh

𝐏𝐀𝐈𝐑𝐈𝐍𝐆: carlos sainz x model!fem!reader

𝐖𝐎𝐑𝐃 𝐂𝐎𝐔𝐍𝐓: 4k+

𝐀/𝐍: this is poorly based off taylor swift' 'style'. i hadn't realised i turned such a nice song into something well um... not nice? proof-read but as always, don't hold it against me!

𝐌𝐀𝐒𝐓𝐄𝐑𝐋𝐈𝐒𝐓

⋆  •°.  。  .°•  ⋆

Before you even started your cat-and-mouse game with Carlos, you were well aware that he was trouble the moment he walked into the room.

Scratch that.

Formula One drivers were nuisances. Ask any other model on the street and they would probably agree with you.

You knew that it was a relationship you probably shouldn't even be in. He was always going to be away in a new country every other week while you were doing photoshoots and walking runways. You would barely have time with each other. You don't think that you could even label such a relationship 'long distance'.

So when your management sent you down to the infamous Monaco Grand Prix as eye-candy, how were you to deny those brown eyes constantly lingering on you, following your body as he sported a smug smile? No one would be in their right mind to not fall for a guy like Carlos.

The heated gazes, the flirty comments, the burning brushes of touch... it was clear for the both of you that you had to be together.

But of course, despite knowing all of this, you couldn't help still feel a bit emotional about your relationship.

midnight

you come and pick me up, no headlights

long drive

could end in burning flames or paradise

fade into view, oh

it's been a while since i have even heard from you

Here you were. In Miami. The sun had fully set and the rare few stars you could find had taken up their night shift.

You were just leaving the office of your management after having a discussion on what photoshoots you were doing in the upcoming weeks and what events you were attending.

Chanel, Dior, Ralph Lauren, YSL, Louis Vuitton...

Brands on any other general day you would've love to talk about. But your mind was in a state of disarray after receiving a message from a certain Spaniard.

hot spanish polla (prick)

pick you up in 15, princesa (princess)

behind your office.

Even now, looking at the message again, you let out a scoff. You scrolled up, finding the last message you had sent to him. In January.

It was currently May.

Your fingers clenched around your phone as you let out a shaky sigh. Despite all the rage you felt, of course you were here, in the secluded area of your company.

You looked down at your clothes. A model life meant wearing 'fashionable' clothes. You, your manager, and your stylist often pre-agreed on the outfits you wore just for the sake of your image. Today, your stylist had dressed you in a black mini skirt and maroon sweater. You neck and ears all adorned in thin gold jewellery while you feet were hugged by a classic pair of white sneakers.

You pursed your lips. At least you looked good.

But of course this was just like Carlos. Speaking, calling, texting... all when he wanted. You knew he was in Miami. You weren't an idiot. You had all of this season's races organised into your calendar.

You were just in disbelief that Carlos had the audacity to even text you after not hearing even a word from him in almost five months.

Your ears perked up to a low rumble of a car entering the area. The headlights were off but you could still spot it's familiar features. You eyed the iconic Prancing Horse and rolled your eyes. The love and hate you had for Ferrari was unexplainable.

The car stopped in front of you and the door of the driver's seat opened. Carlos came out as if he were in slow motion.

You sucked your tongue to your lips upon eyeing his appearance. He was in a black coat, a simple white shirt that stuck to his sculpted body paired with black trousers that brought out his stupidly defined thighs. Those thighs... god, how much time had you spent on them?

and i should tell you to leave 'cause i

know exactly where it leads, but i

watch us go 'round and 'round each time

Carlos waved a hand through his hair and smiled at you. You could feel his eyes waver over you, making you suppress the innate shudder his gaze would usually send you. You couldn't let him think that everything was okay.

He opened the door to the passenger side and gestured for you to come in with an extended hand.

You folded your arms and stared at him. Were you really going to do this? Yes. Was this what you deserved after so long? A man who felt dizzy for you but wouldn't speak to you for four months? Yes and no.... yes.

Carlos narrowed his eyes, tilting his head to look at you. He knew exactly what you were thinking. "Get in the car, Y/N. Before I make you."

There was nothing threatening about his tone. In fact, even if it was, it would be an empty threat. Because at the end of the day, the both of you knew you were going to.

You internally sighed, before walking up to the open door. You turned your head to him and gave an amused huff. "As if you would, Sainz."

Carlos flashed his classic grin, the very one that had gotten you into this mess in the first place, and watched you enter his car.

By the time you had but on your seatbelt and rested your arm on the door, Carlos had finally sat next you.

"You look good, cariño (darling)," Carlos murmured, bringing your hand up to his mouth to leave a small kiss.

You clenched your jaw at the fiery tingle that sprawled across your hand. You snatched your hand away. "I know. I look good all the time," You mentioned curtly.

Were you being a bitch? A bit catty? Simply put, yes. But you thought a man who usually got what he wanted deserved some sort of catty behaviour.

"Four months, Carlos, four goddamn months... of nothing," You sighed out.

A remorseful expression fell over Carlos' face. "I know. I'm so sorry, cariño. I don't have any excuses."

You huffed once again with an irked smile, folding your arms while you looked out your window. You could think of one. But maybe it wasn't time to bring it up right now. You were tired of this game already. You would rather a false peace than the raw reality.

Your eyes peered over to him. "Long drive home?" You asked.

Carlos smiled softly at you. "As per usual."

You nodded slowly and Carlos turned the key of the car. The engine came alive and seemingly so did he as his hand naturally fell to your thigh while he reversed out.

you got that james dean daydream look in your eye

and i got that red lip classic thing that you like

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

you got that long hair slicked back, white t-shirt

and i got that food girl faith and a tight little skirt

and when we go crashing down, we come back every time

'cause we never go out of style, we never go out of style

Carlos could feel your eyes on him as he drove down the empty, long roads of Miami, dotted with the sparsely spaced palm trees swaying in the warm summer breeze.

Your eyes trailed over every inch of him. His hair. His eyes. His lips. His neck. His body. Every crevice. As if you were trying to print an image in your mind.

You always looked at him like that. Carlos remembered asking you about it. "What are you looking at?" He would ask.

"Just you," You would retort, "I just can't believe someone like you exists."

Carlos would chuckle and question what you meant by that. You simply said he reminded you of James Dean. Even now. His hair was slightly grown and slicked back with the heat of Miami. His entire aura was smug and intoxicating. The entire world could see Carlos Sainz as the Spanish romantic driver, but you knew that behind that warming exterior, was something dirty... troublesome in the best way, in fact.

You, god, you were the complete opposite. Y/N L/N. The good girl model. Pure. Untainted. The type of model you would see in spreads of brands right after they had a controversy because your angel aura would put anyone back in the good books. No matter how revealing your clothes were or how much skin you had on display, you were somehow still the epitome of unadulterated goodness.

There was a saying that people often associated with good girls like you. Every good girl wants a bad boy to be good just for her.

You wished that wasn't true. How desperately had you avoided all those flashy teenage popstars and actors. But here you were inevitably falling for an intoxicating Carlos Sainz. Time and time again.

so it goes

he can't keep his wild eyes on the road

You let out a shaky sigh as Carlos' hand travelled closer and closer up your inner thigh. "Carlos," You warned, eyes widening slightly as those brown eyes were planted firmly on you, taking in every little movement of yours, instead of looking at the road.

"Yes, my ñina bonita (beautiful girl)," He answered almost questioningly in a teasing tone.

"Keep your eyes on the road," You weakly mumbled.

You both watched his fingers linger up your skirt. His fingers danced across your burning skin and paused at the thin material covering your core. You sucked in a sharp breath once those fingers met your panties.

Carlos grinned at your shaking eyes and the warm dampness on his fingers. "You make it hard to look away," He confessed earnestly.

You could feel his fingers rub your pussy ever so slowly, only just grazing over that sensitive nub of yours.

"Jesus fucking christ, Carlos," You hissed out, hips bucking at his touch.

Carlos could feel his pants become incredibly tight all of a sudden. The control he had over you was so enthralling that he wanted to simply stop in the middle of the highway, grab you by yours hips and fuck the living life out of you.

What a sight that would be. You straddling his lap, soaking his trousers as your ass rested against the Ferrari symbol embedded into the steering wheel. He would make sure that the brand he represented would be covered in your cum after he was done with you.

Carlos sucked in a sharp breath. "Jesus fucking christ, indeed, cariño," He managed to get out, blinking hard at the road in front of him.

He watched out of his peripheral vision as your head fell back against while his thick fingers pushed past your panties and slid against your drenched folds.

His fingers ventured and craved a journey, feeling each crevice of your pussy. Carlos thrusted his fingers into your warm walls, briefly watching you envelope him entirely.

"Fuck, Carlos," You moaned out, hand instinctively reaching out to covers his. You couldn't tell if you wanted him to stop in this horny haze or push him in even further.

It must have been the latter as you could feel his fingers delve further into you. Carlos let out a strangled moan, foot pressing further on the accelerator. He needed to get you home as fast he could.

takes me home

the lights are off, he's taking off his coat

i say "i heard, oh, that you've been out and about with some other girl"

he says, "what you heard is true

but i can't stop thinking 'bout you and i"

i said, "i've been there too a few times."

By the time you had reached home and got to your bedroom, the entire of your house remained living in the darkness you had found it in.

Carlos and you didn't need lights. If there was anything he was purely confident about, other than his driving of course, it was your body. He knew it like he knew those race tracks. Every curve. The distance from your breasts to your pussy. How long it would take you to cum. He knew it all.

Carlos shrugged off his coat somewhere onto your floor, needing a release from the heat surging through his body. Your shoes and socks he had pulled off in a haste as well.

His lips had found yours as his hands roamed your back, pulling him closer to you. His fingers snuck past the hem of your shirt, brushing your bare skin while reaching up your torso to find a neat surprise.

"No bra," Carlos' hoarse voiced queried with the sound of a smirk playing at his lips. At least thats what you could assume in the dark.

Carlos inched you towards your bed as if it was a second nature to him.

The soft silk sheets he had bought you last year consumed the both of you as his fingers brushed past your nipple.

You released yourself from this kiss at the action, gasping for the air that Carlos had taken from you.

"I heard you were with some other girl. Is this what you did with her?" You finally asked, feeling a small smirk grow onto your face despite the annoyance running through your body.

You could feel Carlos stop moving, probably boring those beautiful brown eyes of his into you.

He knew what you were talking about. February. Pre-testing season. The drivers, some staff and their partners had gotten together to celebrate the upcoming season.

Lando, like the photo lover he was, had decided to document the night with his camera and post it to his Instagram dedicated to photos, lando.jpg.

You had clicked on it a few hours later, deciding to see how much fun they were having while you were doing a photoshoot with Kim Jones. Pictures of Charles dancing terribly with Max had made you laugh. Carmen looking concerned for George's wellbeing as he took shots had made you laugh even harder. There was also a photo of Alex and Lily being the cute paddock couple they were while Carlos was drunkly looking into the camera

But then your fingers stopped on particular photo of Carlos.

He looked good, you could not deny him that. Flushed skin, hazed eyes, the perfect smile... all while dressed as the Madrid's richest.

But lo and behold, that wasn't the only thing getting your attention. Instead, it was the girl in his arms. The same girl who in the next few photos had her lips on him and his hands on her ass. You could even spot a fresh hickey that wasn't on her neck in the previous photo.

God, the comments and tweets were coming in at lightning speed.

user55: who's the girl? i thought carlos was with y/n?

user04: maybe they broke up?

user16: wasn't just with her for new years? jfc, that man needs to get a grip

mickyschumacher: y/n deserves better than this

user44: i wonder if she knows?

Quite soon after, Lando had taken down the post, apologising to you profusely. You reassured him it was okay, even though deep down you were exhausted of this.

Not only had Carlos been going around with another girl, but he didn't even have the decency to say sorry. He would rather say nothing.

Carlos didn't know what was worse. His growing guilt or the fact that your reaction was making him harder.

His fingers skimmed across your swollen lips. "Obviously what you saw was true. But the thing is... I can't stop thinking about you and I, princesa. You consume me for every second of the day. Even if I don't show it. Fuck, I have a ritual before every race, you know? To cum to your name... to your body."

Was is it a poor excuse? Yes. It didn't even explain why he had done it in the first place. But the most damning thing was, you didn't care. Or you could care less to begin with.

Instead you were turned on. The pool in your panties had gotten even bigger as you released a light moan at his words. Your hands travelled to his waist, peeling off his white shirt while he raised his arms. The combination of your body heat was so high that it could almost be considered unsafe for the average human.

"You're a lucky man, Sainz. I can't stop thinking about you too."

Carlos could only let out a moan at your words, removing your sweater before bringing his lips to your nipples, dividing his attention to them equally. His hands were busy unbuckling his belt and taking off his trousers.

Your hand reached into his long hair, gripping the locks tightly as he moaned against your breasts. You could hear the clink and thud of his belt and pants hitting the floor as he pushed up your skirt, unbothered to take it off.

In face, these mini skirts were going to be the death of Carlos. He loved them on you. It wasn't just the easy access to the heaven down there. But if he had to explain it, it was the way they rested on your thighs. Laying there simply, not doing anything but creating a monster in him.

Carlos pushed your panties to the side, plunging his fingers into you without any warning. He could feel you arch your back and push your head into the bed while you writhed under his touch.

"Fucking hell," You swore, clenching your thighs around his hands.

Carlos chuckled. "Such a dirty mouth, princesa," He stated before speeding up his pace.

Your loud moans echoed within your empty house. Your hips bucked into his hand, fucking yourself faster on him to chase the release he had built up in the pit of your stomach.

"You wanna cum, Y/N? Hmm? Tell me?"

The sweat was building up on your skin as Carlos had added his thumb over your clit. He rubbed his thumb briefly in slow circles but he had given up on the teasing. He wanted you to squirm in his hands because that's how much pleasure you were receiving. He flicked the nub in fast motions, dropping his warm spit into your hot folds.

"Holy–Carlos!"

Carlos smirked at the ironic combination of words following out of your mouth. Yes, he was holy. But if he was that divine, you were no angel. You were a sin. A goddess. A she-devil.

"I would love to watch you cum, princesa. I really would. But my cock is begging for you, hmm? I think your pussy deserves some attention that isn't my fingers, no?"

Carlos had stopped moving his hand and removed his fingers from you. He could feel you shake in his hold. From anger or pleasure, he wasn't sure. All he knew was that he had left you begging for more.

Although it must've been anger.

Because almost immediately, he had heard it before he felt it. The sharp whack of the air. The burn on his cheek almost sizzling.

You could feel his hot gaze pierce through you as your chest heaved up and down in frustration. "You're a little shit, Carlos," You groaned. "Sorry, no. What was it in Spanish? Polla? Yes, fucking polla."

The room had turned eerie in seconds. Carlos' silence had started to worry you. You could still feel his gaze and hear his laboured breathing but he was saying nothing.

Suddenly you felt his hands wrap around your waist and move to his lap. You let out a gasp at the bare cock you had been placed upon and the sloppy lips resting near your ear.

"I think I need to fuck the nice back into you, princesa, no? Maybe if you become my little divine goddess, I'll let you cum, hmm? What do you think?" Carlos' whisper was hot and heavy in your ear. "Use your words, mi amor (my love)".

Goddamn it. He had broken out the 'mi amor'. The only thing that had you hanging by a thread. The sliver of hope that whatever you and Carlos had going on was more than this. That you truly loved one another.

"Yes, Carlos," You said, bringing a gentle peck to his lips.

You could feel him smile against your lips. "There's my good girl.''

Carlos pushed your panties aside, assured that you were stretched out and wet enough by his fingers. He grabbed his cock and was overcome with a shudder when rubbing the tip of his cock through your folds.

"Spit, cariño," His voice commanded.

You gathered all the saliva that had easily accumulated after salivating for this man and let the warm fluid fall from your lips.

Carlos couldn't see but he could just imagine if the lights were on. The bubbled liquid falling from those pretty lips of yours, turning into thin strings as they had perfectly landed on the slit of his cock.

He didn't even have to say anything as your nimble fingers rubbed your saliva over his shaft. You could hear his heavy breaths in the air and a small sigh of pleasure came from his lips. "Baby, let's get me in you, hmm?"

You let out a small whimper at his words before releasing a strangled moan as you pushed his cock into your pussy. You could feel each swollen and puffed out fold take him in and your warm walls wrapping around him tightly.

Carlos shut his eyes tightly. "Mierda (shit). You feel so good, princesa," He groaned, lifting his hips up.

You moaned in agreement, throwing your hands around his neck as he thrusted in and out of you.

The concept that cock could made a person dumb often sounded strange. But with Carlos, it was true. You couldn't do anything or say anything but moan in pleasure.

"Lamp. I need to see your face, princesa," Carlos muttered out in awkward pauses, rutting his hips against you in an angle that almost made it impossible for you stretch your arm out and turn on the lamp.

A yellow illuminated the room and finally, you could see each other.

You had made eye contact with Carlos. His eyes bore into you while his mouth was agape as if he was constantly ready to moan. His normally slicked hair was now tousled courtesy of your fingers.

Jesus, was he a sight to behold.

But Carlos didn't think any less of you. God, how were you even real? Your skin was flushed, hair sticking out in every direction, sweat and traces of your wetness across your body and your eyes: dazed with lust and bordering on the edge of being fucked out.

But most especially, those goddamn lips of yours. They were painted with red when Carlos had first picked you up. The red had faded, only trace amounts left mixed with the red flush of the swelling he had brought by kissing you. What a vision you were.

Your eyes flickered to the specifically red cheek that faced you. God, this man knew how to make you feel for anything. His hips jerked into you, pushing his cock deeper as every second passed. The spell he had on you was serious; dangerous.

You could feel a glaze of water fall over your eyes as your fingers brushed his reddened cheek. His skin was still warm from your slap. Carlos shivered at your touch, eyes fluttering shut.

"I'm sorry, Carlos," You murmured out so quietly that if he wasn't listening so intently, he would've missed it. "I didn't mean to."

Carlos could feel his heart pace as you softly kissed the burning skin of his. It was as if you were kissing his pain away. A warm tear from your eyes had fallen onto his cheek, making his heart melt.

Carlos could feel himself tighten at the action, even more so when you clenched your walls tightly around him.

"You think you deserve to cum, mi princesa?" Carlos queried, wrapping his hand around your jaw and making you turn to face him. His eyes shook at your teary eyed gaze. The mascara and eyeliner you wore had broken down. If he hadn't felt so soft for you, he would've teased you and said you looked like a racoon.

Carlos could feel you start to shake as you buried your nails into his skin. To his surprise, you shook your head no. You begun to slow your pace and clench around him, only trying to get him off.

"Oh mi amor, mi ñina bonita, you deserve to cum. You deserve a lot more than you know," Carlos whispered, tucking your hair behind your ear. He planted a soft kiss to your forehead before bringing his thumb to your clit, rubbing hard and increasing the speed of his cock thrusting in and out of you.

You couldn't help but let out a sob mixed with both pleasure and sadness. A wave of euphoria convulsed within your body as Carlos staggered to a halt in you. His cock twitched and throbbed, spilling his hot cum into your walls.

You bought Carlos into a tight hug, pushing yourself further onto his cock, making him groan again and release a few more ropes of his cum into you.

Carlos brought his lips to your shoulders and left a small trail of kisses as the two of you calmed down.

The double meaning to his words had thrown you off.

You could tell what he meant.

This why he had reached out in the first place.

His guilty glances. The poor excuses.

This was the last time.

Whatever this was between you... it had to end.

You both needed to move on.

But especially you.

It was a gutting feeling to know. But Carlos was right. This sadness, this anger, this toxicity could go on no longer. Despite being heartsick, you were happy though.

Because even if this ended, you had gone out in style.

𝐏𝐓. 𝟐 𝐇𝐄𝐑𝐄

© 𝐌𝐈𝐂𝐊𝐘𝐒𝐂𝐇𝐔𝐌𝐀𝐂𝐇𝐄𝐑

[corroded-hellfire]

Continuing on with my baby fever I came across videos of parents "laying" (softly hovering) on their babies lap to see their reaction. Some babies are gentle with one parent and push of the other parent. But I wanna see how Eliza would react to the entire Munson family doing this. Thank you!

Baby fever you say? 👀 Step into my office…

Honestly, looking up reference videos for this fic was the most heart melting thing ever and I thank you for bringing that into my life. I hope I have done this justice for you!

Words: 3.1k

[As You Wish masterlist]

“Ugh,” Luke groans as he flops down on the floor of Eliza’s nursery. The Minnie Mouse shirt and pair of toddler jeans he’s holding smack him in the face as his dramatics bring him down.

Eliza sits on her miniature butterfly couch and watches her brother, face stoic as the two-year-old is used to the theatrics he’s inherited from their father. 

“What is taking so long?” Ryan strolls into the room and leans against the door jamb. He crosses his arms over his chest and arches an eyebrow as he clocks his brother on the ground. 

Flinging the articles of clothing behind him, Luke huffs and turns his head to meet Ryan’s questioning look.

“Every outfit I pick out she doesn’t like!”

Heaving a loud sigh, Ryan saunters over to the closet tucked into the corner of the pink room. Curious as to what he’s doing, Eliza cranes her neck in an attempt to see past her oldest brother. Try as she might though, she doesn’t have x-ray vision and has to wait for Ryan to turn around to see the black and white striped dress and pastel green sweater.

“Eh?” Ryan raises his eyebrows as he holds the items out towards the toddler.

Keeping her chin high, little Eliza looks over the proposed outfit before nodding her affirmation once. 

“What?” Luke shouts as he bolts upright. “The Minnie Mouse shirt is way better!”

Ryan throws a smirk over his shoulder at his younger brother as he helps Eliza get changed into the winning look of the day. 

“She must love me more.”

“Uh, no,” Eliza hums as her head pops free from the confines of the dress. “Better clothes.”

Luke cackles with laughter, arms crossing against his stomach as he falls on his back once more.

“Oh, that’s too good! Please, we all know I’m her favorite,” Luke says.  

At only two-years-old Eliza is already used to her brothers competing in almost every aspect of life. She rolls her doe brown eyes and allows Ryan to help her into the green sweater before leaving the two boys alone in her room. 

“I seem to recall us having this argument before and Grandpa somehow coming out the winner,” Ryan says, following the little girl’s lead and heading towards the door. 

“Well,” Luke says, stretching out the word as he scrambles to push himself up into a standing position, “then this time we don’t allow him to be part of our bet.”

The older Munson brother shakes his head in amusement as he walks out into the hall and to the right, towards the rest of the house. Luke is right behind him though, practically nipping at his heels as he waits for some kind of response. 

“What bet?” Ryan asks, stepping into the kitchen.

“Yeah, what bet?” Eddie echoes, eyeing his two sons over his “#1 Dad” coffee mug where he leans against the counter. 

“Seeing who Eliza’s favorite is. And not Grandpa this time,” Luke informs his dad as he slides into a chair at the table. 

“I believe that would be me,” you say with a proud smirk, traipsing in from the living room with an empty sippy cup. “I just turned on Rolie Polie Olie for her.” 

“No one can compete with the Rol,” Eddie jokes, giving you a playful wink and a smile. 

“She definitely loves that show more than she loves any of us,” Ryan says. He yanks the refrigerator door open and stares inside as if something new is magically going to appear before his eyes. 

“I bet I could interrupt it and she’d be okay with it,” your husband says. “And will you either grab something out of the fridge or close the damn door?”

“So, you’re saying you’re the favorite, Dad?” Luke asks, eyebrows disappearing into the curls that are getting too long for his liking. 

“Isn’t that old news?” Eddie asks with a smirk as he walks over to grab Luke’s box of Lucky Charms. 

“Everything about you is old,” Ryan says.

The joke has your hand slipping, causing the apple juice you were refilling Eliza’s sippy cup with to spill all over the counter. Avoiding Eddie’s eyes, you try to hide your snort of laughter as you grab a towel to mop up the mess. Once the sippy cup is successfully filled up, you turn back towards the living room—Eddie’s eyes still firmly burning your back—and go to give your daughter her drink. 

“Didn’t we already do this? I feel like we played this game before,” you say. “Eliza picked Wayne over all of us.”

Eddie shrugs and takes another sip of his coffee. “No beating the old man. The actual old man.” Eddie narrows his eyes at Ryan, who just chuckles in return. 

“No,” Luke says. He shakes his head as he lets the marshmallow cereal fall into his bowl. “We have to know who her favorite in the house is.” 

“Any ideas?” Ryan asks, plopping down in the seat across the table from his little brother. 

“Hmm,” Luke hums as he chews on a bite of his breakfast. “I’ll brainstorm at school today.”

In the end, it’s you who comes up with the idea that sets the competition into motion. Once Eddie heads out to work and the boys to school, you realize how much you’re able to get done around the house because Eliza is thoroughly hypnotized by her favorite show. It’s not until the hour of Rolie Polie Olie is done that Eliza is running around the house, wanting to play with every toy under the roof. 

After dinner that night, and once Eliza is in bed, you bring your idea up to the boys.

“So, like, we take turns? One person a day?” Luke asks.

You nod in confirmation.

“Right. Because if we all did it one after the other on the same day, she’d get cranky and it wouldn’t be fair for whoever goes last.”

“What, we like, pick straws?” Ryan asks. “Then someone goes Tuesday, then Wednesday...?”

“I’m game,” Eddie says. He lifts one flannel-clad arm and rests it behind you on the couch, giving you the perfect opportunity to snuggle into his side. 

“So…” Luke muses as he walks over to the couch and takes a seat next to you, on the opposite side of Eddie. “We just put our heads in her lap like this?” The younger Munson boy demonstrates by laying his curly head on your thighs, staring up at you with wide blue eyes. 

“Exactly,” you say, reaching down to boop the tip of his nose. “See if she cuddles you or pushes you off. And then we’ll see who she has the best reaction to.”

“I like it,” Ryan says.

“Me too,” Luke agrees. “Ryan, go get straws. Cut one short!”

With an irritated eye roll, Ryan does as his little brother says, feet shuffling along the carpet as he goes. 

The plan springs into action the next day. According to the laws of the straws, Ryan was up first. Followed by Luke, you, and then Eddie rounds it out. 

Tuesday morning starts off like every other weekday, everyone running through their routines to get ready for whatever lies ahead for them that day. Once Eliza is dressed in her purple long sleeve shirt, pink overalls, and her morning apple juice is finished, it’s time for the games to begin. 

You, Eddie, and Luke watch as inconspicuously as you can from the kitchen entryway as Ryan approaches the couch. Your daughter’s eyes never leave the little yellow robots, even as her oldest brother kneels on the dusty-brown cushion next to her and keeps scooting closer. 

Eliza’s leaning back, her legs out straight in front of her, and Ryan takes advantage of the open space to lay his head right down on her little knees. The two-year-old just seems confused at first. She looks down at Ryan, back up to Rolie, down to Ryan, up to Rolie, then back down to Ryan again. After staring down at her big brother for a little while, Eliza reaches for his head and begins to card her tiny fingers through his golden-brown locks. Her hands continue the movements even as she turns her attention back to the television screen. Ryan can’t help but smile; it actually feels really nice. She keeps up the motions until there’s a commercial. Then Ryan rolls on his back to look up at her and she giggles down at him in return, not sure what he’s doing, but happy to have his attention. 

“Do you want me to stay?” Ryan asks.

Instead of answering verbally, Eliza wraps her arms around her big brother’s neck and settles back against the cushions. 

“I’ll take that as a yes,” Ryan says with a chuckle, before adding under his breath, “and as a win.”

Wednesday, it’s Luke’s turn. Once Eliza’s got her favorite show on and a cup of apple juice in her, he makes his move. It’s clear from the moment Luke’s head hits her lap that Eliza is in a feistier mood today. Whether she woke up like that or Luke brings it out of her is anyone’s guess. 

“Ow,” Luke groans as two small hands beat down on the side of his head as if it’s a drum. The boy winces, face scrunching up, but as you watch him alongside Eddie and Ryan from around the corner, you can tell Luke is trying to stick it out and see if he can somehow salvage a win. There’s a brief glimmer of hope when Eliza stops percussing on her brother’s head. However, it’s short-lived. 

Short, stubby fingers make their way up to Luke’s curls and the youngest Munson boy breathes a sigh of relief, seeing as how gentle the toddler was with Ryan’s hair the day before. The problem, they discover, is that since Luke’s curls are far tighter than his older brother’s, Eliza’s fingers quickly get caught in them. 

“Oh, please no,” Luke murmurs, but it’s too late.

Eliza tries to yank her hands free, frustrated that her fingers can’t run smoothly through his locks like she did for their eldest sibling. She pulls Luke’s hair while letting out her own whine.

“Ouch! Why are you whining? I’m the one who’s about to be bald!”

Next to you, Eddie lets out a snort of laughter. 

“Bald?” Eddie says. “Wayne? That you?”

Giving a roll of your eyes, you gently swat at his stomach. Luke also hears his dad’s remark and gives him a glare from the couch as he tries to wrestle himself free from the toddler’s grip. 

Finally, Eliza is able to slip her hands free from the rat’s nest that’s become of Luke’s hair—thanks to her. She’s thoroughly annoyed now and grumbles a few low groans, giving up on words completely. If she were old enough to know swear words, she’d definitely be using those.

Luke breathes a sigh of relief and raises a hand to rub at his sore scalp. Before he can make contact though, both of Eliza’s hands splay flat on the back of his skull and she gives a hard shove. The implication is clear: get off my lap.

Not willing to risk any more of her tiny wrath, Luke rolls off her and off the couch altogether. He lands with a thud on the carpet and gets the chance to rub at his head at last. His eyes narrow as he looks up at Eliza, who is no longer paying him any mind. She’s immersed in Rolie Polie Olie once again, the rest of the world forgotten. 

Your youngest son pushes himself to his feet with a huff. He shuffles back towards the kitchen, back towards the rest of you.

“I don’t wanna hear it,” he mumbles as he passes, heading straight for the fridge. 

To Eddie and Ryan’s credit, they do both stay silent as the three of you turn to watch Luke yank a Yoo-Hoo out of the refrigerator and pop the top. He chugs down half the bottle before wiping his mouth off on the back of his hand. 

“Ugh,” Luke says with a sigh as he heads toward the hallway. “It’s not even 8 am yet.”

With both of the boys’ attempts out of the way, you’re up. You debate going in straight for the lap when you give her the purple sippy cup of apple juice, but something tells you that you’d end up with a wet and sticky face though. Instead, you wait until most of the beverage is gone and she’s let the bottle roll out of her hand onto the cushion next to her. 

“Good luck, babe,” Eddie says, giving your ass a pat before you walk out into the living room. 

As soon as your knee touches the couch, the television show your daughter is so transfixed on goes to commercial. She turns her head to look at you, large brown eyes sparkling with curiosity. 

You freeze, feeling like a deer caught in headlights. It’s odd to be struck still and silent by your two-year-old, but here you are. Rolie Polie Olie being on a commercial break could either make or break this for you. 

“Mama!” Eliza chirps.

A breath loses from your chest, and you give her a grin as you move to lay your head on her little legs. The moment your body makes contact with hers, Eliza’s arms encircle you as much as they possibly can, and she leans down to rest her head against yours. Her cheek smooshes against yours, her chin bumping into the corner of your eye. 

Warmth floods through you, your heart growing three sizes as she lays all her body weight against yours.

“Hold on,” you hear Luke mutter from the kitchen, “wait to see what happens when the show comes back.”

There are only about forty-five seconds until just that happens. 

Eliza’s skin brushes against your cheek as she adjusts her head to get a better view of the television, but otherwise stays where she is. In fact, it feels as if she cuddles into you even further as she settles in to watch her favorite show. 

“Oh, come on,” you hear Luke complain. The twelve-year-old is clearly not happy that he is losing this competition so far. It’s not as if Eliza could be bribed, though. Luckily, toddlers haven’t been corrupted by life yet. 

Luke walks into the room and stands at the side of the couch, hands resting on his hips. 

“Comfy, are we?” he asks. 

It’s evident your daughter is quite cozy as she doesn’t look up at her brother or move for the rest of the episode. 

“All right,” Eddie says, rubbing his hands together. “Saved the best for last.”

“Debatable,” Ryan says as he chomps on a granola bar. 

Your husband flicks Ryan’s black-rimmed glasses so they slide down his nose. With a huff that sounds far more sophisticated than one coming from a fourteen-year-old, your son shakes it off. 

“Ready?” you ask, slipping your arms around Eddie’s waist. 

“Always up for snuggles with my girls.” 

A wet, smacking kiss is placed on your cheek, and you let out a soft giggle.

“Gross,” Luke groans.

“I know you are, but what am I?” Eddie taunts, proving he’s as mature as his adolescent sons. 

You let your arms drop from around his middle and you cup Eddie’s cheeks. 

“Go get her,” you say.

He pecks your lips before heading out into the living room.

Eliza is as entranced as always in her cartoon and Eddie takes advantage of that by silently sidling up to her. She doesn’t even realize he’s there until the couch dips next to her and her empty sippy cup rolls until it meets Eddie’s jean-clad knee.  

He moves the cup aside and slowly lowers himself until he’s able to rest his head in his daughter’s lap. 

At first, it’s as if Eliza doesn’t even notice. She’s watching her show, letting her dad just lay down on her. But after a few seconds, her stare breaks from the television and her brown eyes meet matching larger ones. Her head tilts to the side, inspecting him, and her curls bob with the motion. Eddie smiles up at her and a slow grin grows on her face in return. 

One of Eliza’s tiny hands splays across Eddie’s forehead, some of his bangs getting pushed to the side, and some getting caught under her warm palm. Her other hand lands on his chin, delicate fingers curving around his jaw and rubbing against some stubble. 

Eliza stays like that, looking down at her father, not moving. It takes everything in Eddie not to laugh as he just stares back at the inquisitive little face that reminds him so much of you. 

Quickly, Eliza leans in and presses a kiss to the tip of Eddie’s nose. Gone is his urge to laugh, replaced by the most adoring grin as he revels in her affection. He’s about to thank her for the kiss when she leans in to do it again. This time, however, her mouth is open, and she ends up enveloping his nose in her small mouth.

There’s no way Eddie can hold in his laughter this time as he feels her drool dribble up his nose onto his face. The giddiness is infectious because Eliza pulls her mouth off only to begin laughing alongside of him. 

“You might just be as weird as I am,” he tells her, which makes her laugh even harder. 

That night at dinner, the results are discussed.

“So, who wins?” Ryan asks as he spears some green beans with his fork.

“Not me,” Luke grumbles, slouching down in his chair. 

“Oh, relax,” Eddie says, reaching over and clapping the younger boy on the shoulder. “It’s not like this was scored or anything.”

Luke drops his fork onto the plate with a clang and raises his hands up in front of him.

“My hair ruined it for me! That’s not fair!”

“You know, she can talk now,” you point out, looking at Eliza happily eating in her highchair next to you.

“Good point,” Ryan says. He clears his throat and leans across the table towards her. “Eliza, which of us is your favorite?”

The little girl pops a grape in her mouth and chews, looking like she’s thoughtfully thinking over the question.

“Me,” she finally says.

“No,” Luke says with a shake of his head. “Which of us?” He emphasizes his point by gesturing to the four of you around the table. 

Eliza nods her head once, with finality. “Me.”

Eddie huffs a laugh and shrugs his shoulders.

“Her Majesty has spoken.”

“I don’t think it counts,” Luke laments, looking back down to his plate.

“Yeah, her vote doesn’t count,” Ryan agrees.

You and Eddie share a look of amusement across the table. With these three around, life will never be boring.

[celestialprincesse]

🌹💞

Simon Riley does not like Valentines day. To him, it's another one of those pointless holidays people use as an excuse for overconsumption and to try and show off how their lives are better than everyone else's. Simon hates the excessive gaudiness of it all and the lame hearts and flowers. Seriously, how much thought does someone put into a wilting bouquet of red roses and some overpriced chocolates in a flimsy heart shaped box - they're at the front of every supermarket throughout basically all of February, everywhere.

Simon Riley hates Valentines day until he meets you. Bumps into you at the local florist, unusually unaware of his surroundings as he stews on the pointless idiocy of another lame holiday. The way you squeal as the three dozen peonies wrapped in brown paper tumble to the floor which you land rather inelegantly beside snaps him from his reverie with a grunt. "Fuck - shite - M' so sorry love." He stutters out, feeling like all the air has been punched from his chest when he sees your big eyes staring up at him with wild confusion, now crumpled flowers long forgotten as you stare up at the intoxicatingly rich brown eyes of the man before you. Although, man doesn't feel like the right word for him, tall and strong and holding out a hand the size of your head to help you up, your peonies dwarfed by his long fingers as he helps you up.

You vaguely hear yourself mumble something in response, an awkward stutter like a lovesick teenager asking their crush to the movies, met by a strong hand to the top of your bicep, soothing you, asking if you're alright. A concerned eyebrow furrows when you don't respond, just stand there gawking like a fish. He wonders if maybe you hit your head on the way down, and he was too dumbstruck by the flurry of soft silky skin, glossy, sun-struck hair and petals to see. You look like you've just seen God, and he looks like he's just seen the most beautiful thing said God could ever have crafted.

"Are you okay?" The low timbre of his voice - you don't even know how to react, so dazed and confused and there's butterflies - no, not butterflies, bald eagles and kestrels and ospreys, massive feathery wings beating against your diaphragm and rendering you speechless - butterflies are for normal men. The man before you is too monumental for butterflies.

"Yes! Yes." You squeak in embarrassment like a mouse under a cat's paw, looking defeatedly down at your flowers, brown eyes following your gaze with a sympathetic look.

"Were these for someone?" He seems almost a little flustered by his foolish lack of spatial awareness, which just so happened to strike at the worst time, seeing as now he stands before you, clutching a withering bouquet, failing to save this conversation. Both of you stand like that together, in some strange limbo, like time has stood still in order to force you together, not starting back up again until this conversation goes somewhere. "Just me." You murmur, voice so pathetically small under the draw of his magnetism. He's probably here to get flowers for his girlfriend, or fiancee even. She'll probably turn up any second, beautiful and charismatic and just as magnetic as the man before you is.

"Let me buy you some more, yeah?" He nods his head back in the direction of the fancier florist in town, the one you'd splurged on in a valentines induced self-pity party. He buys you three dozen pink peonies, matching paper and ribbons too. He also insists on taking you for a coffee, and buying you some silly pink and white frosted cake in the excuse that your blood sugars probably dropped after the fall and some other fake nonsense like that. You obviously say yes, to the flowers and the coffee and the cake - to the gentle smiles and the crease of his warm brown eyes, his hand on the small of your back. Both of you say yes to giving Valentines day a try.

⋆ ˚.⋆୨୧˚

Some short simple little V day fluff for y'all the brain isn't braining at the moment but also wanted to give you all a little Valentines day present because ily

[notapradagurl7]

Keep A Distance.

Pairings: Black Fem! Cop!Reader x Armando Aretas.

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe.

Summary: You were a cop working on the runaway Armando Aretas case, alongside Mike and Marcus but decided to go solo by working undercover.

Taglist: @lovedlover @planetblaque @megamindsecretlair @westside-rot @keyera-jackson @browngirldominion @swavydadon @playgurlxoxo @nerdieforpedro

Warnings: PWP, doesn't follow the film’s timeline, profanity, mention of guns, mention of violence, erotic asphyxiation/choking, Armando being persistent to the reader, dacryphila, consensual for both parties, short fic.

————

The light from the computer illuminated on your brown skin with your hand resting on the mouse, clicking on the file on the desktop with the picture of vibrant roses. Opening the file, your eyes scan the information and criminal records.

All that work just to lose him out of your sight again.

“Armando Aretas is still on the loose after taking control of the Aretas cartel when his mother was tragically burned in a fire.” the reporter spoke up.

You sighed and shook your head in disapproval, you pushed the power button on the remote, turning off the television, there was no way to catch this guy after playing this game of cat and mouse. Your finger pressed the power button and watched the computer fade to black.

You were working for the Miami Police Department as a cop, moving your way to a respected and it was every man and woman looking out for themselves.

It was a shame that you had to endure the shit from men and women in the police department.

Standing up from the desk, you walked out of your office. You approached the main office with determination.

Marcus and Mike stood by each other, you gave them fist bumps while "What's the latest, detective?" Mike asked, leaning against the desk with a smirk.

"Same old, same old. Aretas is still slipping through our fingers," you replied, crossing your arms. "I think it’s time I take matters into my own hands."

Marcus raised an eyebrow. "You sure about that? You know this guys plays fucking dirty."

“Yeah, well, dirty is my middle name,” you shot back, the fire in your belly igniting.

“Just keep your head on straight, alright?” Marcus warned, his tone serious. “We can’t afford to lose you too.”

You shrugged off their concern. “I appreciate it, but I’m not going in blind. I have a plan.”

“Which involves what? Seducing him?” Mike chuckled, but you noticed a flicker of concern in his eyes.

“Something like that,” you replied, your smile a little too sly. “I’ll get close enough to gather intel; I won’t get too comfortable.”

“Uh-huh,” Marcus said, not buying it. “And what makes you think he won’t be the one to get too comfortable?”

Mike knew that you could take care of yourself but Armando was his son, he had Mike’s genes running through him. Once Mike called Armando the fucked up version of himself.

“Because I know how to keep a distance,” you replied, your voice steady.

“Just remember, he’s not some petty thief. He’s dangerous, Armando is Mike’s son” Marcus reiterated.

“I can handle myself,” you asserted, turning on your heel. “I’ve got this.”

As you stepped out of the precinct, the Miami heat hit you like a wall. You pulled your box braids into a tight bun, adjusting your badge before heading to your car. You knew you had to find Armando's weaknesses, and if it meant playing the role of an alluring enigma, then so be it.

Later that night, you found yourself at a dimly-lit bar, the kind where the shadows danced as much as the patrons. You leaned against the bar, scanning the room. The air was thick with tension as a mix of laughter and whispered conversations filled the space.

“Can I get you something?” the bartender asked, snapping you from your thoughts.

“Whiskey, neat,” you replied, your gaze still fixed on the entrance.

Moments later, the door swung open, and in walked Armando Aretas. He was a silhouette of charm and danger, his presence commanding the attention of everyone in the room. Your heart raced as he scanned the crowd, his eyes landing on you.

“Is this seat taken?” he asked, sliding onto the barstool next to you, his voice smooth like velvet.

“Depends on who’s asking,” you replied, your tone playful yet guarded.

“Armando,” he said, extending his hand, his eyes never leaving yours.

“[Your Name],” you introduced yourself, shaking his hand firmly. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

“Only good things, I hope,” he smirked, leaning in closer, the intoxicating scent of his cologne wrapping around you.

“Depends on your definition of good,” you shot back, your pulse quickening.

He chuckled softly, clearly intrigued. “You’re not like the others…I like that.”

“Keep your distance, Aretas,” you warned, your voice low and steady, but the chemistry between you was undeniable.

“Why would I do that when I’m enjoying this conversation?” he replied, his gaze piercing through you.

“Because this isn’t a game you want to play,” you said, your heart racing at the thrill of the chase.

“Oh, I think it is. And I always win,” he whispered, his voice dripping with confidence.

“So I heard that you're looking for me, Detective [Last Name]” he smirked, eyeing you up and down. His eyes remained on your ass.

You swatted his hand out of the way, and narrowed your gaze. “My eyes are up here, you're gonna come in with me. I'll arrest you and this case will be over..”

Armando smirked at you, snatching your gun that was attached to your belt. Your fist connects with his cheek as blood spills from his chin, he spits it out on the floor.

“I guess it's not over yet..” He smirked, stepping closer to you.

You were supposed to leave, you wanted to cuff him and take him into your car. But you couldn't, the heat between your thighs made you stifle a moan.

“Was all this chasing after you, a trick to get me all to yourself Armando?” you asked seductively, smirking.

Armando's eyes darkened with desire as he leaned in closer, his breath warm against your ear. "Maybe it was, detective. Maybe I wanted to see just how far you'd go to catch me." His hand trailed down your arm, sending shivers down your spine.

You fought against the growing heat in your body, reminding yourself of the mission at hand. But the magnetic pull between you and Armando was undeniable. The danger only added to the thrill, fueling the fire that burned between you.

As his lips brushed against your neck, your resolve wavered. "We can't do this," you whispered, though your voice lacked conviction.

Armando chuckled darkly, his hand on your waist. Pulling your face closer to his, when he wanted something or someone, a desideratum for him.

He only did this just to get closer to you, he planned everything just to see your pretty face again. The

But this mission left you fuddled and to save face, you kept your cool instead of admitting it. Did he want you?

"Who says we can't mix business with pleasure, detective?" His words sent a jolt of electricity through you, igniting a hunger you couldn't deny.

In a haze of desire and adrenaline, you found yourself giving in to the temptation. Crashing his lips into yours, tongues turned in sync. You moaned in the kiss, and he led you to the car.

Next thing you know, you were under him on his bed and kissing him sloppily. Both of your clothes were littered across the bedroom floor, the soft smack of your lips colliding with his filled the room.

His naked body against yours from the front with glossy sweat, his hips thrusting into you without mercy, as if it was a vindictive yet almost loving type of fuck. His tongue glided across your neck, wanting to leave hickeys on you.

The moonlight peeked through the curtains, and shone on your brown skin. Your brown braids pool around your pretty face, your mouth agape only to let out loud drunk moans and slurred screams.

There you were, fucking your enemy in the dark. Thankful that he couldn't see your face twist up in pleasure, “I bet you look so pretty taking every inch of my dick mami..like a good slut,” he praised, cutting himself off with a raspy moan.

Your hand rested on the back of his neck, bringing him for another sloppy kiss. Leaving a chain of spit between your lips and his, “That dick is so good…” you mumbled, your head fell to the pillow.

Your slick pussy gripped around his dick tight, feeling his inch after inch.

“Oh..fuck! Armando!” You cried out, your vision blurred with tears rolling down your watery cheeks. Teeth trapped under your lips only to be sucked off by Armando, moaning muffled with each kiss. Your tears turned him on quickly.

His head ducked and halted between your titties, wrapping his warm mouth around your nipple. Thighs smacking against your ass, the sound similar to clapping, wetness enveloped his thick dick entirely, Suckling it roughly while pinching your left nipple, “Fuckk! M-more,” you croaked.

Balling your hand in the blanket you turned into a wet, blubbering mess underneath the male. “I’m yours now? So fucking wet..” he grunted deeply, you whimperrd in response. His hand wrapped around your neck, bringing you in for a quick kiss to your lips.

“You’re mine papi, all mine..” you moaned loudly, drooling trickling at the corner of your lip. Unable to speak from the pleasure.

This was better than you imagined, your guts being rearranged by the man you loathed so much but he was here with you. His hand smacked across your ass, you whined lowly. “Fuck!”

“Being inside you is a dream true, suck a good girl..” he groaned, rutting against you without mercy.

Your climax hit you rapidly like a tsunami crashing through without warming, your sticky essence gushed down on his dick and you screamed loudly, falling on the blanket.

He followed suit by pulling out of you, falling beside your body and kissing your shoulder. You panted heavily through it.

“T-this can't happen again..” you murmured raspily, shaking your head. trying to confess to yourself that this was a one-time thing.

Armando hummed lightly with a soft chuckle, “Are you sure about that? You did say that I'm yours..” he panted lowly.

You almost dozed off until he gently picked you up bridal style, carrying you into the bathroom as he flipped the light switch. He turned the faucet, you heard the squeak.

Filling the tub with foam soap, at the right temperature, You were placed in the tub, allowing the water to soothe the ache in your body and pussy, sighing blissfully. You watched him walk into the shower and proceed to wash himself clean.

You washed yourself clean from the weight of the day, you fell asleep in his bed with him. Beside his body, dressed in your clean panties and gray tee shirt.

As the sun began to rise, casting golden hues through the window, you made a silent vow to yourself. You left quickly with everything you had, keeping this a secret.

You had to keep a distance, but the memory of that night with Armando would linger, a dangerous secret that bound you together in ways you never thought possible.

The next day, you returned home and sat in your desk chair in front of your computer. Quiet as a church mouse, which made everyone worry about. It wasn't normal for you to be quiet from their perspective.

Marcus and Mike knocked on your door, the sound tore your attention from the computer. You jumped from the sound, placing a hand on your chest.

“Come in!” you called out, seeing the pair through the office window.

They stepped inside, concern etched on their faces. Mike leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, while Marcus took a seat in the chair opposite you.

“Hey, you alright?” Mike asked, his tone softer than usual. “You’ve been unusually quiet since yesterday.”

You flashed a tight smile, the memory of last night flooding your mind. “Yeah, just a lot on my mind.”

Marcus raised an eyebrow, scrutinizing you. “A lot, huh? Or should we be concerned about that ‘solo mission’ you took on?”

You shrugged, keeping your expression neutral. “It was just a quick check-in. Nothing major.”

You fought the urge to roll your eyes. “You guys know I can handle myself. I’m not a rookie.”

“True, but it’s not just about handling yourself,” Marcus interjected, his voice serious. “It’s about the risks involved. Armando Aretas is dangerous.”

You leaned back in your chair, crossing your arms defensively. “He got away.”

“He did?” Mike asked you, raising a brow.

“Yeah, he was too fast and strong.” you added softly, looking up at the ceiling.

“Well, guess this case is closed huh?” Marcus asked, pursing his lips.

You nodded your head slowly, “Yes, and let’s just get to normal. What’s the melody to Bad Boys song? Bad boys, Bad Bo—” you sang playfully until Mike and Marcus interjected.

“Hey, hey, hey get your own theme song and learn the lyrics!” Macurs joked, his face twisted up a bit with a chuckle.

“Yeah, that's our theme song, but you did amazing on this case..” Mike added with a chuckle, smiling at you.

“My bad, thanks for believing in me guys..” you replied with a warm tone.

You gave the men fist bumps, watching them walk out of your office. Feeling a wave of relief wash over you, so much for keeping a secret. But it was over and you couldn't see him.

You could afford to blur the lines between business and pleasure, mixing them together was bad enough. You were done, now back to business only.

——————

Part Two.

[followthebluebell]

would love a list of low energy enrichment activities to try with cats. im always looking for more ways to be involved with my cat but she is 3 and very high energy and after a long day i often dont have the spoons to chase her around with a toy while she finds new exciting hiding spots to look at it from. this makes me sad :( i dont want her to be understimulated

Food-based enrichment:

Feeder toys are a favorite! But these carry the drawback of requiring cleaning afterwards, so calculate that into your spoons. Some of them are machine washable, so that may be an option if you've got a dishwasher.

Snuffle mats - another favorite, these also require the occasional clean but don't need to be cleaned every time you use them. You can make your own pretty easily. Or, hell, just grab a very cheap bath mat from a dollar store. Your cat won't know the difference.

Scatter feeding - literally just. Throw a handful of treats or kibble on the floor or down the stairs. Literally, that's it. Calculate clean-up into your spoons because cats aren't reliable vacuums. But it keeps them busy for a few minutes.

Toy based enrichment:

Get a cardboard box. Crinkle up some brown wrapping paper or whatever cheap paper you've got on hand and put it in the box. Congrats, you've now combined your cats two favorite things in the world: boxes and paper. For extra fun, add catnip (or silvervine or whatever your cat's drug of choice is), toys, or treats.

Ripple Rug: this is actually a specific product. It's literally a square of carpet or rug with velcro on the bottom that attaches to ANOTHER square of carpet or rug. It's fairly stiff. The idea is that cats can dive into it and make their own little tunnels. My cats LOVE it. You can probably recreate it quite cheaply using cheap rugs or carpet, tbh.

Cat crinkle mats: again, this is something fairly easily made at home. You get some cheap crinkly plastic and sew it into two old washclothes or something similar. Congrats. You now have a little mat your cats can sit on, bat around, and crinkle. You can also just buy them in multiple sizes. Many have catnip in them too.

Paper bags: cats just love paper bags. Be sure you remove the handles to make sure no one gets their head stuck. Most cats entertain themselves pretty well with bags.

Cat springs: those little plastic springs are a favorite, and so are those cheap rabbit-fur covered mouse toys.

Cat race track toys: another favorite.

Cardboard cat scratchers: the cardboard ones require MORE cleaning because they leave little bits of cardboard all over the place, but it is kind of nice that you can just throw them out when your cat is done. Any scratcher is good, though. I've listed cardboard for ease of clean-up and because it's a very popular material for cats.

Cat tunnels: like bags and boxes, cats just love tunnels.

I'm not a big fan of laser pointers or robotic toys. I haven't seen many cases of light chasing disorders in cats compared to dogs, but it's an issue enough that I don't readily recommend them. I also don't really recommend robotic toys because a lot of them make noises that cats don't like. If your cat enjoys these things, congrats; I just don't find them universally popular enough to really recommend. But I had to mention them, because if I didn't, my notes would be full of 'but what about Product X!!".

I've tried to keep this list to low cost toys and activities. There are other things you can do, like installing wall shelves or getting a big cat tree, but these things are more likely to be expensive, either in terms of money, time, or energy. I wanted to focus on low cost activities that I felt were more accessible to disabled folks.

[zo3mess]

Too Bad At Goodbyes | Part 3 to Bitter-Sweet

Summary: Officers from other towns were reassigned to help the understaffed police force in Evergreen after the butterfly massacre. The good old game of cat and mouse begins with Vigilante continuing his shenanigans and one police officer determined to catch him. Except it is not entirely clear who is chasing whom.

Warnings: 18+, smut, p in v, unprotected sex (Wrap it before you tap it, you know that all too well), handjob, oral (reader receiving), edging, tits worship, hint of sadism?, knife play (to some extent), handcuffs, theft of panties mentioned, enemies become lovers (Who would have thought), female reader, no Y/N

Minors do not interact

Word count: 6.4k

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3

Extra songs for this fic

Masterlist of my works

Note: This is the final part, guys. I’m sorry it took so long to write, but my brain was completely dead after 2 seminar works I had to write last second. Long live the procrastination! Anyway, I hope you will like this and once again thank you for every interaction on any of my posts, I love you all <3

Day after day, week after week, you were slowly but surely realizing you might have overestimated your abilities. You believed you had the guts to catch villains like Joker or Mad Hatter, even your family and friends encouraged you. And you believed their words, you believed yourself. Leaving your town and heading to Evergreen as some sort of bridge to your goal. However this? This wasn’t what you thought it would be like.

Doing minor police work, failing miserably all the time, having a weird relationship with the one person who would get you a ticket to your dream. Hells, you were in charge of fetching take-out every Friday for your coworkers, like a dog playing fetch.

Your office decided on Fennel Fields this time, the most distant restaurant from the precinct.

The noise in the restaurant had been overwhelming, voices chattering all over, glasses clinking, utensils scraping plates, until one guy managed to drown out everything with a simple question “Anything else I can help you with?”

Wait a minute…

You know that voice, you’ve heard it somewhere, no? But where? One simple look at the source and gears in your mind started turning. It was the busboy asking some family a few tables away from you. Nothing out of the ordinary, maybe you misjudged it.

And then the guy turned. Smiling at his coworker that just passed by him with an awkward ‘hey’. That smile. Dimples. Brown hair poking from under his hat. And most importantly two small hickeys just under his jaw he clearly did not care enough to cover in any way.

That’s curious, you left similar marks on Vigilante a few days ago, when you had another run-up with him late at night. He tugged you behind a dumpster and kissed you like a man possessed. And you were feeling bold enough to suck on his tender skin for the first time.

At first, it wasn’t a plan to mark him up, so you can by chance recognize him in public. You marked his neck for him. Eventually, he would tug off his mask, become a normal citizen again, but the prize he got as Vigilante would stay. He would remember you even after the morning sun rose.

Oh dear God…

A smile dropped from your face, eyes widening in disbelief. And you just could not stop staring. As you watched him leave to refill the water pitcher, every noise quieted down.

Vigilante.

That guy was Vigilante. He must have been. What a weird accident would that be, right? Right?

He seemed so sweet though, bright eyes were shining under wire-framed glasses. He looked all shy and nerdy. Fennel Fields busboy could not be the one killing criminals under the moonlight and drawing hearts with blood for you.

“Cash or card?” The cashier’s voice interrupted your inner monologue when he put your take-out in front of you.

“Card, please. Uhhhh…” You squinted at the nametag and continued, “Tyler? Could you do something for me?”

It was not hard finding out the busboy’s name, all that needed to be done was to battle your lashes and sweetly ask the cashier. That guy was more than happy to provide the name of his least favorite coworker. The good old sabotaging in work, how lovely.

So… Adrian Chase. The poor boy is either an unlucky victim of your search or he is Vigilante. Chances were not even 50/50, you were sure. Almost sure. Like 70/30 in your favor.

Finding his address was even easier. God bless the police database. You ought to pay him a visit. By now you knew Vigilante had a habit of going out on Friday night, leaving a fresh new corpse to bask in the morning sun most of the time. Meaning that if you, by any chance, knocked on Chase’s door, he would not be home.

Around 10 p.m. you arrived at the apartment complex where Vigilante was supposed to live. With unsure steps, you made your way through the staircase, stopping once you saw the apartment number you’ve got written on a piece of paper.

However, knocking and neither ringing the bell resulted in open doors. As far as you could tell with ear pressed against the door, no movement was possible to be heard inside.

You could not get discouraged, you were too far to stop. Another plan was the fire escape stairway leading around the building. You sneaked around until you found his living room window, relatively hard task to locate the right apartment. With a quick look, you knew he wasn’t at home. Maybe if you tried to open the window…

Bingo!

For a guy bragging about how he crawled through your open window, he didn’t care enough about locking up his. You carefully crawled into the dark room and a thought passed by that this is so wrong.

But you’re already there, might as well look around to confirm your suspicion.

Cliché of villains living in the lair was wrong this time. His apartment looked well-kept, almost too normal. With a quick rummage you found out he kept knives and guns around, tucked away under the coffee table in the living room, in a cupboard next to cereal in the kitchen. Vigilante’s paranoid.

When you entered his bedroom, the last and only room you had no chance to search, you immediately noticed the peculiar mess. For his respectively clean apartment, his bedroom gave the impression that it was blown out by a bomb. Clothes on the floor, as well as empty water bottles and candy wrappers, messed up bed covers, half completed Lego set scattered over the floor.

A familiar object caught your attention in all that clutter. A piece of lacy blue cloth lying on the floor, oh you knew what it was in an instant. You pocketed it and headed back to the living room, stretching out on his couch. How ironic.

And you waited and waited, losing the track of time, clock was ticking, cars speeding outside, it almost lulled you to sleep. Then all of a sudden you heard the rattling of keys outside of the front door. Bang of doors being shut. Footsteps in the hall. And finally, the living room doors swung open.

It was your time to scare him in his own home. How the tables turned.

“Jesus-“ Adrian all but jumped. Even though he found it weird you weren’t skulking around the streets looking for him, he would have never guessed you would be standing in the middle of his apartment instead. Now you were even at last.

He was not wearing his suit and it took you aback for a split second. If he wore it you would be 100 % sure he was Vigilante, this way there was still some space for doubts. But the way his eyes got stuck on your frame gave him away.

In case you misguessed your deduction and he was, in fact, a normal guy, he would have looked far more shocked, scared even, since a stranger was walking around his apartment. But this look? Oh you knew this look all too well.

“Adrian Chase. It is a pleasure to meet you,” You kept your voice friendly, with an equally complimentary fake smile. “I hope you don’t mind me visiting you. After all, you have been in my house several times and you never invited me to yours.”

“What? No? I’ve never- I have never been in your house. Stranger.” He stuttered right off the bat, that was adorable.

“Stranger? Come on, Vigilante. Don’t lie.”

“Vigilante? I have no idea who that is and even if I did, I have no idea how you might think that I am him. Or her. Or them.”

“I just find it curious you have a familiar hickey on your neck. I left one like this on Vigilante myself.” You never thought you'd find out his secret identity like that, and neither did he, otherwise he wouldn’t let you bite his neck.

“These? Those are not hickeys,” He pointed at his neck and shook his head a little too fast to appear calm “I had an accident”

“Let me guess, you fell on someone’s lips?”

“Happens more often than you’d think.” Ridiculous. Completely and utterly ridiculous.

“Mhhmm, sure.” You fought an emerging smile so hard. You had this idea of confronting him sternly, confidently, and most importantly with a totally cool attitude. That plan was falling apart, whether it was from the happiness of finding out who Vigilante was or his dumbstruck expression, did not matter at the end of the day.

“And this…” From your pocket, you pulled out a bunched-up piece of cloth. Lace panties in the signature teal color. “You have no idea how my underwear got into your bedroom, right?”

“Those are… Mine?” You wondered how this guy never gave away his big secret. He has been living double life for so long and yet he never learned how to lie properly.

“Just because you stole them doesn’t mean they belong to you,” It was a perfect trap. You knew some perverse side of Vigilante would not resist stealing your stuff, especially if it was in the colors of his suit “I bought them specifically to catch you in the act and kept them on top of my drawer. In case they disappeared I would know you were in my house again, rummaging through my stuff.”

“I’m not some pervert that steals panties.” He dramatically gasped and put his hand on the chest to be a tad more theatrical. You completely dismissed his defensive words.

“Give up, Vig. I got you.” Such a bold statement. You knew who he was now, that wouldn’t stop him from killing you right there on the spot, since your goal was to put him behind bars. Would he be able to sleep peacefully if he truly got rid of you? Even if it was for the ‘greater good’ and protecting his identity?

“Are you here to arrest me?” After a beat of silence, he spoke with uncertainty and you weren’t able to pinpoint the emotion that washed over his face.

A triumphant smile dropped from your face with the question. Were you? You had handcuffs in your jacket, all this time they were waiting to be put on his wrists.

But was it what you truly wanted?

“Adrian Chase, Vigilante, you are under arrest.”

His confused face was everything. Every millisecond it lasted was golden. Truth be told every grimace he made was making you happy. You could see his whole face and that was priceless. But aside from his bedazzlement, his lack of resistance was something you had not expected. He simply stood there, turning his back on you and putting his hand behind his back without hesitation.

Adrian knew he was running around on borrowed time. One way or another, today or tomorrow he would be caught or killed. Of course, he prayed that day would never come, but if Vigilante should end, should be caught, he was glad it was you. He would gladly rot in jail with peace of mind if he knew you had fulfilled your dream and made it to Gotham.

“What for?” He asked with a sigh and flinched when the cold metal handcuffs wrapped around his wrists.

“Multiple counts of murder, assault, breaking and entering, obstruction of police work and personally I would like to add theft.” Quite a long list of crimes and misdemeanors.

“What did I steal? Aside from your lingerie?”

“My dignity. My pride. My mind. My-“

“Heart?” He peeked over his shoulder, but it wasn't his usual goofy smile that was distracting you. It was his eyes. He looked right into your soul and searched for answers you didn’t even know you had.

Quiet so loud it almost deafened you. You had no words suitable for a swing back. Instead, you tugged Adrian by his cuffed hands and he obediently backed in your steps all the way to the couch, where you pushed on his shoulders as a sign to sit down.

He did so with such a stoic expression it made your mind wonder what was he feeling. Regret? Sadness? Rage? Admiration perhaps? After all, you found him on your own without the need to snatch his mask like you tried the first time he made his presence known in your own house.

Only heavy breathing filled the room, temperature growing hot with Adrian’s burning gaze. Did it make your cold heart melt or was it already soft when you saw him for the first time without his mask? And did his eyes always pierced your skin with such cruel intention or was it just because he was afraid for his future?

Goddamn the things he made you do.

You found your favorite position on his lap again, straddling him in a hurry before the logical part returned to take hold.

You pressed an open-mouthed kiss on his neck, just under his jaw. After so many make outs you finally got a chance to kiss his pretty neck properly as his collared suit wasn’t an obstacle now.

Adrian saw it the same way, he had waited long enough to feel your warm lips caress his skin once more.

And right here and there he knew you had gone soft for him. He could not control himself and bucked his hips up to yours with an eager whimper.

“It was only a kiss.” His reaction made you chuckle. Power rushed over your body, now that you knew how sensitive he was to your touch.

“Are you quoting Mr. Brightside?” His head cocked to the side with a cheery smile. You wonder what is going on inside his head all the time. Probably a cymbal-banging monkey and Wii music playing in the background. Or in this case, his brain might be playing Mr. Brightside.

“Why would I be?”

“Your voice cracked a little, I thought you were about to sing the rest.” His smile was contagious, you could not help but grin at him in retaliation.

“You’re handcuffed and can’t move, if I started singing it would be officially considered torture.” He deserved to be tortured though, at least a little bit. For all the trouble he caused you, for making you doubt your intentions.

“But you sing for me so prettily. Especially when I stuff you full of my cock. I’ve been hearing your moans in my head for days after our first time. Shit, I had to jerk off all the ti-“ Before he could chatter further you pressed a palm over his mouth. Does this guy ever shut up?

You bowed back to his neck, continuing your work of peppering kisses over his throat, biting and sucking from time to time. But Adrian kept firing words against your hand, every thought he wanted to share with you was muffled and lost.

The other hand slid from his chest down to his jeans. He looked so alien like this. You imagined his face all the time, but he always had his suit. This time he wore simple everyday clothing and it felt wrong in the weirdest way possible.

Palming his bulge through his pants was not enough for Adrian, whines buzzed against your palm more frequently, hips chasing your touch, if he had his hand free you were sure he would be pawing at you in an instant.

You granted him freedom of speech because your hands had more important task than silencing him. Freeing him from the confines of his jeans. Unbuckled, unbuttoned, unzipped in milliseconds. So fast he lost the words.

Two fingers were shoved into his mouth, his glassy eyes looked up to you with shock. “Suck.” You told him sternly and he wasted no time to obey. Tongue swirling around your digits was a bit distracting, despite his eagerness you managed to shove down his boxers and let his dick spring free against his stomach.

He looked so pretty like this. Unable to move his hand, unable to talk, red and throbbing cock already spilling precum and the brightest eyes pleading for anything you were willing to give him. If anyone told you this is how your rivalry with Vigilante would end, you might have been nicer to him from the start.

Properly wet fingers were pulled out from his mouth and made their way down. Wrapping around him, stroking slowly but tightly, smearing the saliva all over his length. His eyes silently pleaded for more, but his mouth had trouble forming the words.

“Can I suck your tits?” The attitude of that man.

“Wow, so straightforward.” Most of the time you two were together, clothes covered your bodies. You’ve felt his dick more than you’ve seen it. The fact he was now asking for more of your body just turned you on more.

“You’re the one to talk. You come to my apartment, handcuff me and go straight into jerking me off.” He explained with a strained voice and his eyes flickered down to your hand.

“And snappy.” You grinned at him some more before you removed your hand from him, just to unbutton your shirt and shift the cups of your bralette to the side.

Adrian licked his lips once he saw your breasts spill free, barely blinking, not daring to break the gaze he held with your nipples. After his brain finally realized what was before him, he latched his mouth onto you. Licking, sucking, biting. 

Your hand returned to his cock, settling on a nice steady pace that made him groan against your skin, while you, yourself, softly moaned out. It had been too long since someone paid such attention to your chest.

He lapped at your nipples with ferocity, switching from one to another. Tongue drawing circles, teeth pricking the sensitive skin. He was seconds away from straight up motorboating your tits.

Adrian chased your touch, whining and wriggling when you moved your hand faster and faster. So desperate to touch you he had to chase his need away by digging nails into his palms.

Your focus was lacking due to a hungry mouth sucking on your chest, but it did not take a genius to notice the change in demeanor. Eyes tightly shut, breath shaking, needier moans. He was close to bursting in your hand.

“Motherfucker!” He yelled out in frustration when you snatched your hand away and his release with it.

“That’s not nice.” God bless your sarcastic tongue, it drew out the worst in him and what was there not to love than seeing a riled-up man pouting and squirming.

“Sorry, babe, every nice word leaves my mind when I see your face.”

Fingers latched on his face, squishing his cheeks with one hand, tilting his head directly to you. A warning to play nice. But when you saw the realization in his eyes, you kissed the pout formed on his inviting lips.

“Uncuff me,” He demanded with a bratty frown. “Uncuff me and I’ll show you something better than nice words.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it.”

“I don’t know if you deserve it either, you’re mean to me, but here we are.” Did he really just tell you that you don’t deserve it? He just played the same card against you with no shame whatsoever.

Not a single word was said when you stood up from his lap, not even an objection or whine from Adrian when you left him in the living room and with a sway of your curves made your way to the bedroom. You were sure that horndog wouldn’t resist running after you with hands still handcuffed. To your surprise, he didn’t even trip over his own legs when he caught up with you entering the messy room.

After all, you were merciful and quite frankly curious. He promised you something and wanted to get it. So when he awkwardly stood before you, watching you with puppy eyes, how could you resist granting him the freedom he craved.

“Strip,” He said sternly and rubbed his wrists while you were putting away your restraints, but the sharp look you gave him made his voice soften. “Please."

Both undressing while the other watched every move, every piece of clothing being dumped on his already untidy floor. Once you stood there revealed to him, except for your underwear, and Adrian to you, there was no doubt your heart stopped for a second.

Vigilante was a real person…

You could touch him, run your fingers across his chest, into his hair, and he wouldn’t disappear. You knew it before of course, but the true realization hit you the moment you saw his bare skin. Littered with a few small scars, bullet wounds, and fresh bruises ranging from blueish purple to faded yellow.

One of the most beautiful paintings you have ever seen. As most of the masterpiece, this one was also created with madness. Hand in hand with lunacy, paranoia and often a crippling sadness.

There always was and always will be a profound beauty in tragedy. All of this was your tragedy. A story of ambitious woman fighting her way through to success, just to have rug swept under her feet and knocked down by a crazed man.

Maybe you did not find what you initially looked for, success and glory in the work field, but you’ve found something else. A long lost piece. You were fitting together like a puzzle that was finally given a chance to create a bigger picture. Something achingly beautiful.

It seemed Vigilante didn’t have similar thoughts stopping him from doing anything, soon he was on you again. Cradling you in searing hold and kissing you like there was no tomorrow. Maybe he was afraid you would disappear too, he had to make sure to burn the softness of your body to his mind. The addiction of skin to skin, heart to heart.

Shortly after he stole your breath straight from lungs you found yourselves lying on his bed. Little shakes of excitement accompanied by growing anticipation.

He crawled on top of you like a predator. He got his prey all sprawled out, tense, ready to jump out of its skin, yet ready to jump his bones a second he allowed it. The wandering mind naturally remembered something else, resting in the upper drawer.

Adrain reached across you and started digging through the mess in the nightstand. Baring his pearly whites with a winning smile.

And he was still grinning brightly when he showed you what he fished out. A knife. Out of all the things he could have gotten, it was a knife. You quickly got up to rest on elbows and an inner voice told you to prepare for take off.

“Any reason for that?” You lazily pointed at his hand.

“There might be.”

Few people saw red as a color of passion, and few as a color of anger. Years on the police force taught you to see red as a sign of blood or injury. And Adrian? He connected this color with the suit of his best friend Chris. Seeing you in red panties, Peacemaker’s color, made him literally see red. You’re not Peacemaker’s, you belong to Vigilante, you belong to him.

Adrian wanted to make sure you would remember it. The knife slowly slid under the cloth on your hips. With a clean swipe, he sliced the expensive lace and moved to the other side. Once it didn’t hold together he tore away the last piece of clothing covering your body.

“Fucking four-course meal. I just want to eat you,” A gush of realization hit him in the middle of admiring your naked body. “Eat you out I mean. I’m not a cannibal, I feel like I should clarify that when I’m holding a knife.”

He swiftly tossed the knife on the floor and before you heard clinking of it hitting the ground, he was prying his head right between your thighs.

Adrian had a bad habit of not eating properly. To be fair it was hard for him to notice the hunger when his mind was running at full speed, swarming his head with millions of other things than basic human needs. But when a feast was laid out before him? He wouldn’t leave a single crumb.

The second he buried his tongue in between your folds, you became his favorite dessert. And the second you felt him suck on your clit, you realized his tongue would go to waste in prison. You made the right decision, he was much better off there, worshiping your body.

Delightful pleasure blossomed in your pussy and stretching to the very end of each of your limb and swarming your head. Not even all those nasty noises could not take you out from the heaven you lingered in.

Warm tongue nudging your clit with short flicks before switching to lick a long strip all across your cunt. Prying deep into you for another taste, sucking on your labia, occasionally biting your inner thighs. Adrian was having time of his life while you clutched on the bedsheets and moaned in retaliation.

Completely and utterly consumed… Barely feeling a hand sneaking off your thighs and making its way to your dripping hole. Two fingers were pushed into you with no restraint while Adrian’s tongue continued his work on you.

With trouble you lifted your head from his pillows and looked down just to find Adrian looking at you half-lidded, smirking against your clit when your gazes locked. Then he went for a bold move, latching on you, sucking harshly and shaking his head, which resulted in a bolt of shivers down your spine.

This was too good.

He felt your pussy clenching, arousal seeping down to his bed, legs shaking on either side of his head, and the moment your head got thrown back and moans pitched he withdrew his mouth and fingers from you, letting you tether on the edge.

“Shit!” You yelled out upon being denied your bliss. How did he dare.

“That’s not nice” He repeated your previous words with a grin and playfully slapped your outer thigh.

“Go fuck yourself!”

“I’d much rather fuck you, but if you insist.” His hand wrapped around his cock and started stroking himself above you in an obscene demonstration accompanied by over-the-top moans.

You lunged at him and caught his hands before he could continue. This time he resisted having hands restricted, trying to twist his wrists out of your hold with a frown.

“Let go.” There was a hint of dominance in his voice, but what person you would be if you crumbled under every little threat.

“No.” The hold stayed strong and you had no intention of letting go.

Adrian didn’t appreciate your decision. Deep inside his heart skipped a beat every time you did something defiant. When you cursed in his name, when you threw that metal pipe at him, when you refused to let him go. All that presented a challenge and Adrian’s no quitter. But now? He was pent up and when you just delayed the moment he got to be inside you once more, he had enough. And if that meant he had to fight dirty, so be it.

Your breath almost got knocked out of your lungs when his whole body fell on you, successfully pining you to the mattress. Mouth pressed against yours to prevent you from objecting. You would call him out, just for the sake of it, but his whole weight on you, acting like a weighted blanket, was more than welcome.

You did not even notice when you loosened the hold on his wrists, which Adrian quickly took advantage of. You were too busy kissing him back with the same amount of fierceness and before you could notice, you were the one pinned down by wrists.

And that time, when Adrian was above you, his hands on each side of your face, holding you down like a feral animal, yet staring at you in awe, you realized his eyes were green. So beautifully green. After all that time of wondering what color his eyes were, you finally had an answer.

He shifted your hands together above your head, which allowed him to hold you down with just one hand while the other guided his cock into your sopping pussy. Before he pushed in, you were given a soft kiss, a beautiful contrast to previous actions.

You moaned in each other's mouths when he finally entered you with one stroke. You were a sucker for the feeling of fullness only he was able to give you and after not letting you cum on his mouth you were in need to feel him deep inside again.

“You look so pretty like this.” His hand found its way to your chest and pressed right in the middle, feeling your beating heart. He had a weird fixation with it. Sweet nevertheless.

The hammering heart reminded him no matter what was before and what came next, it was beating for him and him only in that moment.  

He drove into you slowly as he basked in the opportunity to feel your walls constrict around him after such a long time. All those wet dreams about you could never replace the real thing.

“I always look pretty.” You smiled at him before he brought his head down. Nice kiss soon turning into a messy one. You could still feel yourself on his tongue when he pried it inside your mouth.

“I can’t argue with that.” He chuckled at your remark after pulling away from the kiss, a string of saliva stretching between you before Adrian wiped it away. With that you rolled up your hips, urging him for more as you fucked yourself on his cock.

Lewld sounds of skin slapping, creaking of the bed, squelching of your wetness and moans and whimpers followed what started as a nice and solid pace and soon turned into the good old savage fucking. And in the meantime he allowed you to run your hands over his body however you wanted.

With Vigilante, with Adrian, it always had to be a lot. No one would hear you complaining though.

With a new vigor of Adrian’s hips slapping against yours, well-kept nails colored in bloody red as you scratched his back in the last hopeless shot to hold on. Deep hurtful marks were left all along his tensing muscles, he didn’t mind it one bit. The idea of being marked in the heat of passion was encouraging at last.

He just wished it would be permanent, a forever reminder of you, that would nudge his memory every time he saw it in a mirror. Whenever this would get a good or bad ending, you were a person who woke up emotions he thought he had lost or hadn’t felt so strongly in a long while.

His hold shifted to your waist, sliding to your hips. Clutching onto you so tightly on purpose to create bruises in the shapes of his fingertips and similar to you, pressing his nails past the barrier of sensitive skin. Hoping it would leave a long-lasting mark. You wailed in response, it hurt so good it made a mush out of your brain.

Yet a dark thought crossed his mind. Getting the knife lying on the floor to carve his initials on your shaking body. That would be the permanence he craved. Painful wounds would turn into nasty scars not allowing you to forget who he was to you for the rest of your life.

But he couldn’t pour all his frustrations on you, all this anxiety and fear of abandonment. He couldn’t do that to you. The truth was you made his blood boil, brought out the worst in him, made him doubt his motivation, terrifying him with arrest, but you had reasons to. It wasn’t accidental or illogical. He could never hurt you for doing the right thing in the eyes of the public even if it meant the worst for him.

If he couldn’t make you remember him with scars on your body, he wanted to make sure you would never forget that night. Pour out a part of his anger on you in the best possible way.  His thrusts were merciless, making his cheap bed shake and headboard slam against the wall. Too late to think about the neighbors, your moans and whines were already loud enough to alert everyone in close distance.

“Fuck! Don’t stop!” You screamed out and it only encouraged him to go on, fingers sneaking down your body to rub tight circles on your clit with threatening precision. The sole thing that mattered was to make you cum on his dick.

“You’re doing so well,” He whispered into your hair with a calming voice. You had to tuck your face to his neck, hiding your red cheeks and muffling piercing screams of pleasure with his silky skin. “Cum for me, baby.”

And you did. Hot burning pleasure shot across your body, all the way to your fingers holding onto his back, to toes on your straining feet, your back arched, chest pressed against his, white flashed in front of your eyes.

Adrian slowed down and fucked you through it while muttering sweet words to your ear. Hands slid under you to cradle you in a hot sweaty embrace.

You came down from your high soon after, but his own was awaiting him and he wanted to reach it too. Let his mind shut down.

The way he picked up pace again made you whimper in overstimulation. His body pinned you down, cock sliding in and out of your spent cunt swiftly, quick moans filling your ears, sweat mixing with his deodorant was suddenly so vivid. Adrian won over your senses in every possible aspect.

He was already so close with how your pussy clenched around him when you came. There was no chance for him to last long like this. Not with how his hips bucked like a wild animal.

“Look at me,” His warm hand cradled your cheek, bringing you to reality. “Please, look at me. I want to see your eyes when I cum.”

The plead sounded so broken and urgent, you had no other choice than to comply. You opened your eyes and saw his green ones, staring back at you while his brows knitted together. Eyelids barely resisting the urge to close.

They might have been right when they said eyes are the windows to the soul.

Whispers of his name on your lips broke something inside him. Pushing him over the edge with a shaky moan. His forehead pressed tightly against yours, panting in your open mouth as he pumped his cock into you for the last few times. Hot thick cum coated your already oversensitive insides and you clamped your walls around him to prolong his orgasm.

Not for a second you dared to close your eyes. He asked you nicely, it wouldn’t be fair if you defied. But since when did you care to listen to his pleas?

He stilled his hips when his cock stopped flaring inside you. However, his eyes opened after quite some time, after he gathered enough power to stop his shaking. Maybe you weren’t the only one fucked completely dumb.

He caught your lips in a soft lingering kiss, his thumb stroking your cheek in such loving manner. It spread warmth deep in your chest, so genuine and adoring.

Vigilante, the concept of a person, of a maniac, dragged you through hell. The way he was laughing in your face, the way you stomped in anger like a little child whenever he escaped, only fueling the fire.

But Vigilante you now knew? Adrian Chase? He took you to Heaven. His words made you feel like the most important person, his touch left goosebumps in its way, and the way he treated you after almost fucking your brains out he made you wonder about the remaining sides of him that you haven't had the chance to see so far.

The million-dollar smile he gave you was comforting, you could get used to it. Addictive as much as everything else about him.

Adrian carefully pulled out and rolled to the side, hissing through his teeth when the pain of scratched back hit him. Both of your bodies tiredly rested on his messy bed, heavy breathing joined the ringing in your ears. Long silence haunted the room, you were afraid to say anything, not wanting to disturb the peace between you two, and Adrian had no words to say as it seemed. Until…

“You won’t leave for Gotham, right?”

Oh, he wanted to keep you.

“Well, I promised myself I would not go to Gotham unless I catch Vigilante. But gosh darn, is he one slippery motherfucker.” You turned on your side to face him properly, corners of your mouth twitched upwards in contrast to such ‘hopeless’ statement.

He smiled at you, eyes twinkling with optimism. “I guess you have to stay a little longer. Before you catch him, of course.”

His hand reached out for yours with uncertainty, but once he saw you didn’t pull away, he intertwined fingers with yours in a tight hold.

“Stay.”

Such a simple word, yet it contained his whole heart. Would it be possible for Vigilante, despite his claims that he doesn’t feel emotions, to feel something? And would it be possible for a police officer, despite her claims of hate towards him, to feel the same?

You silently nodded. There was no use for words when the look you shared said everything that needed to be said.

Was it hatred? No, at least not the serious kind. Was it love? Far from it. Maybe what you two shared could not be named.

You would still throw a metal pipe on his head without a second thought and Adrian would trip you with pleasure whilst running away from you. He would stick out tongue on you if you screamed obscenities at him, but he would also kiss your cheek in the morning if you decided to stay the night and you would straighten his glasses for him when needed and tuck away hair from his face.

Both of you would exchange bloody red roses, sweet looks, and bitter words until fate decided otherwise.

[the-kr8tor]

Autumn of '88

Pairing: Hobie Brown x fem! Reader

Word count: 3.8k

Tags: Use of Y/N sparsely, no specific physical description of the reader (except for her clothing), Hobie is mentioned taller than R, Reader and Hobie are 13/14 in this, Puppy love, TTN! Reader and Hobie, set in the TTN universe, best friends to lovers (prequel to TTN), CW food mentions, Fluff.

A/N: This is the last of the 1k celebration fics! Thank you all so much ❤️❤️❤️

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Head on your palm, heavy eyes slowly closing with every dreary words that your biology teacher says, you fight a yawn from escaping since the last time someone yawned in front of Mrs. Weathers they got kicked out of class. But with the boring subject about symbiotic relationships in the wild, that you most definitely already know since you did the advanced reading, you're tempted to yawn loudly and widely just so you could escape from this biology hell.

The air is crisp, October air breezing through you from the open window to your left. Clad in your cardigan and yellow corduroy pants, the cold still seeps into the thick fabrics. It's a comfortable cold but with you sitting still for more than an hour without stretching your limbs has you freezing in your seat.

You risk getting called out by Mrs. Weathers if she notices you looking out of the window for even a second. But you are so bored out of your mind that you'd rather stare at the oak tree outside than continue to listen to her yapping about symbiosis. Having the brilliant idea to hide your wandering eyes from the teacher with your hand slightly covering your profile, now safe from her piercing gaze, you watch as the orange leaves dance with the breeze.

There's a pile of dead leaves at the bottom of its trunk, and you wish you could jump inside and never have to study biology ever again. It must be so warm and cozy inside, with the orange and yellow leaves as your sky and walls, you'll live like a tiny mouse queen ruling over your land. You think of all the stuff you'll bring inside your little leaf kingdom, your sketchbook is definitely a yes, and also your big pack of colorful markers and pencils is an absolute need. You'll need some snacks of course, some eggos and cheese balls would suffice. As for sleeping, you guess you'll never need to sleep when you have so much time to do anything you want in your leaf kingdom.

Yet, you think you'll be lonely inside. Sure you can bring your gameboy or your care bears, but they can't exactly talk and have the most riveting banter with you. With a smile, you plan to bring your best friend with you to your autumn kingdom. Hobie can be your bard or your right hand man. It's perfect, you think, a perfect place where it's just you and Hobie where there's no more school to attend, no more grades to keep up, just you and him having fun in the pile of leaves.

With a sigh, you blink slowly as your eyes get heavier and heavier with every daydream. Fighting the sandman from having his sandy grip on you, you pinch your cheek subtly. Opening your eyes, a familiar silhouette appears right next to the oak tree. Long arms waving in your direction, legs jumping to get your attention. Blinking rapidly, it's none other than Hobie who has the widest grin on his face when he notices that he finally has your attention.

He motions for you to go outside, beckoning you over dramatically. Miming that he'll cry if you don't go outside. You think otherwise, quietly giggling at his antics.

After the realization, you straighten in your seat, wondering why and how he got outside when he's supposed to be in maths.

A loud thwack slams against your desk, jumping awake, Mrs. Weathers shakes her head, tongue clicking in agitation.

“If you're not prepared to listen in class it's best that you should leave, miss L/N.” She says, gritting her fake teeth.

“Okay,” you stand up to collect your things, shoving your notebook and books inside your already full backpack. Your reply has Mrs. Weathers confused, since you are her best student.

“Wait—” you've never seen her flabbergasted, your classmates snicker silently in their seats, some even clap and cheer you on.

Giving them all a shrug, you exit the classroom before she grabs you back inside. With the door shutting close, you sprint towards the exit. Trainers squeaking on the linoleum, backpack heavy, you push the double doors open with your shoulder. Hobie greets you outside just as the fresh air whips at your cheeks.

He claps slowly but surely, face proud with a smug smile. “I've got to hand it to you, Pingu, I did not expect that. I have successfully made a rebel out of you.”

Hobie stands on the grass like he owns the entire school, hands tucked inside his jeans, thumbs tapping on his metal belts that clinks against each other when he moves. For once, he's dressed for the weather, the old worn leather jacket now fits him better than last year, it was bigger on his shoulders back then. Puberty works in mysterious ways, you think. A denim vest lays on top of the leather, handmade pins of his favourite things are all tacked securely on the denim. Its edges are frayed, but you know it was intentional since you're the one who helped him do it. The thrifted ‘Queen’ shirt you gave him on his birthday is the perfect size, but you know that he'll only be able to wear it for a couple of years at the rate he's growing.

No one would think you two are best friends judging by how different your styles are, or how different you are to him. Personality wise, likes, dislikes, it's all different, sometimes you wonder how you two get along. But you wouldn't have it any other way.

“How'd you get out of maths?”

“Climbed out of the window before Mr. Keery came in.”

You doubt his story. “Yeah, right, your classroom is on the third floor, Hobie.”

He feigns hurt, “my own best mate doubts my abilities?” You roll your eyes, but the heat in your cheeks says otherwise. “‘m great at climbing, I could climb down from that height.” You stay silent, looking at him with a raised brow and unblinking eyes. “...fine, I faked sleepin' by snorin’ loudly, happy?”

You touch his shoulder with a mischievous smile. “Hobie, you don't have to fake snore because you snore like an elephant giving birth.”

“You're very funny,” he takes your wrist to push your hands away. You now notice the new nail polish on his nails. “That doesn't even make bloody sense.”

You ignore him, mouth agape and shocked at his painted nails. “You finally coloured your nails?” You take his hand that has nail polish sloppily painted on. The paint even reaches to the edge of his nails, painting his skin with shadowy black. “You could've asked me for help, y’know.”

“It's part of the style” He shrugs, taking his hand away before you can feel his pulse pick up.

“Sure, even the bubbles are in style.” You tease with a playful smile. “So why'd you call me over here?”

“Got bored, then thought you're also bored so I went to your window so we could skip the rest of the day.” He purposely skips the part that he knows exactly where you always sit.

You gasp. “Wait, I thought we were just skipping class, not skipping the rest of the day!” Hands on your hips, you shake your head. “And here I thought there's like a really cool… stick or something.”

“A stick?” He chortles.

“Yeah, like the one you found a few days ago that actually looked like a sword.”

“Nah, I wanted to—” A high pitched whistle echoes out, startling you both. Finding the source of the sound, the school guard is currently running towards you. The hundreds of keys on his belt jingles, cheeks red from all the whistle blowing.

“Oi!” The yells, pointing accusingly at you two.

With wide eyes, Hobie takes your hand before sprinting away. He practically drags you along with him, bigger strides than you, he looks over his shoulder to check on you. Unsurprisingly enough, he has a huge grin on his lips, as if he planned all of it.

You follow his lead, dead leaves crunching under your shoes, backpack weighing you down. Yet, he doesn't leave you even though you're slowing him down. You appreciate him for not letting your hand go, but you don't like how your heart hammers against your chest when you look at your intertwined hands.

Finally reaching the metal fence, Hobie chucks his backpack over it. It's not that tall for him, he could easily jump over it with no problem, but with you still waiting on your growth spurt, it'll be a challenge for you. He knows it too, without asking he grabs your bag off your shoulders, he then quickly throws it over the other side before crouching down with his hands on top of the other.

“C’mon, Pingu, up you go!” Hobie flicks his eyes over to the guard, he's glad that the guard isn't exactly a track star. The whistling gets louder as the uniformed man gets closer. “Hurry—!”

Before he could finish saying the word, you shakily put your foot on his palm. With one strong push, and a jump from you, Hobie hoists you over the fence. You miraculously make it over, landing on your side with a groan. Hobie follows a second later, climbing like his life depended on it. Immediately grabbing each of your backpacks, then putting both on one arm, he lifts you up from the pavement with one hand just before the guard could even reach the fence; you two race off across the street, huffing and aching from the daring escape.

Going around a corner, Hobie leads you towards an alley. He skids off to a stop, heavy bags falling off his arms.

Hands on your knees, lungs burning, and face sweaty from the run, you check behind the corner if the guard is still after you.

“He won't follow us anymore. We're out!” Hobie exclaims, exhilarated, and grinning widely. He leans on the wall opposite of you, chest heaving, laughter echoing around the empty alleyway.

Copying his stance, cracking a smile, you laugh together with him. “You're a bad influence, Hobie Brown.”

“And you're a great influence, Y/N L/N.” His smile and his shining eyes says it all: we balance each other out. “Too bloody nice, that's what you are.”

You shake your head, chin resting on your clavicle to hide your lopsided smile. Heat on your cheeks, you seem to find yourself having the same expression lately whenever you're around him.

“Where to?” He asks once he caught his breath.

“My choice?” You ask, smile permanently etched on your lips.

“‘course,” Hobie says it like it's the most obvious thing. He was supposed to add to his sentence but he shuts his mouth before he could let the word escape.

You excitedly perk up. “The mall?”

He makes a face. “I'd rather stay in maths.”

“Arcade then?”

“They'd kick us out,” you knit your eyebrows in question. “Because we're skippin’ class, they put up that fuckin' sign a few weeks ago.”

“Oh right, I forgot. How about the record shop? Mike's cool, he might let us stay until classes are over.”

Hobie pushes himself off the wall, strutting over to you, your heart quickens for some reason. He pats shoulder with a smirk. “Your best idea yet,” taking both bags off the grimey floor, he puts them both on each shoulder. It's your turn to smirk at him. “What?”

“Nothing,” you say in a sing-song tone.

He clicks his tongue, avoiding your eyes. “C’mon then, before someone sees us here and thinks we're skippin' class.”

“Hobie, we are skipping class.”

“Not if we act like we're not.”

“...what?” You chuckle, blinking in confusion. “What would you do?”

“Nothin’, let's go.” He walks away from you.

“Oh come on, what will you do? Will you put on your best acting skills like how you faked being sick in front of the nurse? Because she was definitely convinced that you had chicken pox!” You giggle, following him, matching his longer strides.

“It worked, didn't it?” Hobie turns his head away from your playful glance.

“Yeah, because you had an actual fever. But sure, your drawn on chicken pox was very convincing.”

“I'm an artiste, Y/N.” He says, trying to do a french accent.

You snort, “sure, and I'm the queen of England.”

“Alright, your majesty.” He stops, “carry your own luggage,” your bag thuds on the pavement. “I don't want to help some parasite.” Smugly walking away, you feign hurt with your loud gasp.

“You…you doodoo head!” You yank your bag, wearing it properly on your back. Running after Hobie, he has a mischievous smile, one you're all too familiar with.

“Doodoo head? That the best you can come up with?” He says before bolting off, leaving you in the dust.

“Hey!” Running, you follow him with a laugh. “Asshole!”

—

Finally reaching the vinyl shop, the bells jingle as you two enter. The smell of plastic and cheap air freshener lingers in the air, the ancient shaggy carpet is soft under your trainers. Shelves upon shelves of records greet you as you roam your eyes around the different album covers. It's a slow day so the store is empty except for Mike the cashier who has headphones on.

Hobie sniffs dramatically, “home sweet home!”

Mike cracks an eye open, with a groan after seeing you and Hobie standing by the door, he chucks his headphones on the counter, looking disgruntled. The denim jacket with hundreds of patches and bottle cap pins is large on his lanky frame.

“Oh great, Hobie's here.” He says sarcastically, long straight hair flipped over his shoulder with one move from his head. “And he brought his little girlfriend. Hi, Y/N, you still hang out with this arse?” He points at Hobie who doesn't bother correcting him anymore. “Seriously, I thought you were smarter than that.”

“D’you finally have it, mate?” Hobie acts like he's the same age as Mike, even though the teenage cashier could be his older brother. Ignoring Mike's jab, he waits for his reply.

Wanting to quit his job is clearly seen on his face. Then he considers the fact that he needs to save for college. With a sigh, he points towards the end of the store, where you think ‘it’ is there.

Hobie punches the table with a thump, then he excitedly bounds over to where the cashier pointed. “Thanks, bruv.”

“Cyndi Lauper?” You ask, all wide eyed and shy. “It's not at the front anymore.”

“Over to the right, just across where your boyfriend is.”

“He's not my—nevermind, thanks.” Walking past all the display, Hobie guffaws when he finds what he was looking for. You smile at how happy he is.

He's so happy that he grabs you by your elbow, pointing at the new ‘Ramones’ album. The words “Ramones Mania” are printed in bright red.

“Finally! Look!”

“I see it, Hobs.” You chuckle, “didn't this release months ago though?”

“It did,” he sighs like he's recalling a bad memory. “But this place isn't making a lot of money from records like this, so Mike here!” He yells the last part to annoy the man. “Delayed ordering it. I had to come ‘ere every day just to remind him.”

You see Mike pressing the volume up on his walkman. Making sure that Hobie sees that he's not listening to him.

“You didn't tell me that.” You say, sounding a bit too hurt.

“Thought you wouldn't care.” Hobie shrugs, “‘sides, you don't listen to stuff like this.” He points at the album.

“I could listen to it, Hobs. I make you listen to my records and you seem to like it.”

Hobie's eyes soften. “You wanna listen to it together then? You might not like it.”

“Yeah,” you nod. “If I don't end up liking it then at least I gave it a try, right? If I do like it we have something new to talk about.”

He could only manage a smile and a curt nod. Taking the record to the listening booth that sits at the corner of the store, he leaves his bag outside whilst he opens the door for you. Placing your bag down more gently than he did, you enter the cramped booth.

Mike yells after you two, “you lot better not snog in there!” You and Hobie scrunch your faces at the man.

“We're fourteen, mate!” Hobie yells back, not agitated, just weirded out by Mike's comment.

“You're fourteen? How would I know? You look fuckin' sixteen, bruv! Tall motherfucker.” He whispers the last part, Hobie didn't hear it but you surely did.

“I thought he was cool.” You admit, shutting the booth door behind you.

“He's a wanker, just actin’ like he is. Thought you fancy him?”

“Ew.” He beams at your reaction.

You giggle, the sound bouncing off the padded walls of the booth. It's just a regular rectangular box with a shelf for the record player and a bench to sit on. It's quieter inside, the cars outside are muffled, the only clear thing you can hear is how your heartbeat gets faster and faster the longer you stay squished inside the booth with him. Sitting down, you leave enough space for him. Hands on top of the other, you roam your eyes around the cracking paint on the walls, mind making shapes from how the navy blue paint crumbles.

Hobie carefully takes the record out then places it on the record player. Sitting next to you, you can practically feel his excitement reverberating. He takes the headphones from its rack, turning each around so you and him could listen at the same time.

“Ready to shit your trousers?” He asks, eyes glinting from the single light bulb. He's so close to you that you can see yourself in the reflection in his eyes. And you can see every single strand of eyelashes that's perfectly blending in with his eyeliner.

“I don't want to poop on my trousers, I like this pair.” You joke, and you pat yourself on the back for making him laugh. “This is corduroy, Hobie.”

“Alright quiet time now.” He presses play as you hide your amused smile.

—

You bask in the sunset, eyes closed, you let the autumn air kiss your cheeks, your hands are behind you, propping you up. Despite the dusty pavement, and the looming problem of getting found out that you skipped school, you're perfectly content where you are right now. It would be perfect but you're missing something, or someone for that matter.

Cold air suddenly blows right behind you, the convenience doors close with a hiss and that's your cue to look up. Hobie appears upside down in your vision just like you thought, he tilts his head, you can see the cogs in his head turn. Placing the cup on your forehead, he laughs at your crossed eyes. Condensation rolls off from the plastic cup and into your skin.

Hobie takes it away before you could catch a cold. Sitting next to you, he hands you your bright slurpee. There's a mix of colours, red and blue melting into the orange and purple.

“They didn't have the brown one.” He says as he rips open a pack of Doritos. “There's no puddin’ pops either.”

“Aw,” you say slightly disappointed, but the sight of the box of nerds inside the plastic bag helps remedy your disappointment. “Ooh nerds!”

“Where?” As he says it, you see a grin slowly spreading on his face. “I only see one right here!” Chortling, grin wide, the orange hues of the sky paints him with its watercolour glow. You'd take this sight more than a day alone at the arcade.

“Ha ha.” You say flatly, sipping your drink too quickly, you wince loudly. Hobie guffaws into the barren space, save for the 711 behind you and the woods sitting quietly in front of you. His laugh echoes, even with his amusement, he still has the time to pat your back affectionately.

“Ow.” You rub your temple.

“What’d I tell you before? Drink it slowly, love.” The title slips out of his tongue. The second he realizes it, he hides behind his own cup, sipping wordlessly as he stares off into the woods.

Love, the simple freudian slip has you blinking at him slowly. He has never called you that before, he has, however, called you a bunch of nicknames that are either sweet or to purposely annoy you. But love? You've only heard older teenagers call each other that, and they usually have their hand inside their girlfriend’s or boyfriend’s back pockets when they do. You have no idea if Hobie has mistaken, because you're clearly not love, you're pingu, you're cheese, you're pebbles, hell, you're even lad, or his best mate. Never love, because that's reserved for someone you actually like, someone you truly care for.

Is he mistaken? Mimicking something he has heard around school?

“I should've told you about the album.” His voice wakes you to the present.

Do you care for him? Of course you do.

“What?” You breathlessly ask.

He's your best mate after Danny left, he was the only one who filled that lonely lonely gap he left. You think he's stuck with you forever, and he thinks you're stuck with him forever. Strangely enough, you both think it's perfect.

“Me pestering the shit out of Mike.” You knit your eyebrows at his words. He looks down at his boots, a small puddle at his feet reflects his own confused face. Is he apologizing? Why is he apologizing for? Weirdly enough, you both ask the same question.

You'd annoy Mike for him. You'd call the shop endlessly just so they would order his record. Even if you get in trouble for the telephone bill.

“You would've helped.” Hobie continues, eyes now looking into your own.

Care, it's a simple word, but you think it's not enough to describe how you feel about him, how you really feel about your best friend. It's much more than that.

“Yeah, I would've annoyed him too.” You softly smile at him.

“I know, love.” Because he knows you, and you know him too. Hobie utters the title more confidently, the word rolling off his tongue like butter. He makes it sound like he has been calling you that in his head for a long time. Maybe he has. “I know you would.”

He had the answer the whole time, it's not just you caring for him. It's love, it's love in its earliest state, it's love at its most innocent.

You love him, that revelation scares you, but it's better not knowing how you truly feel whenever he smiles at you and your heart skips a beat. Now you know, you'll tell him one day, one day when that feeling gnaws at your chest. But for now, you'll settle with drinking slurpees with him, you'll settle for skipping class so you could listen to records with him. For now you'll settle with loving him as his best mate, and for now, you're content just by being at his side.

[ashwhowrites]

Older! Eddie Munson x reader where Eddie and Y/N flirt with each other until one night, the two of them end up having sex (they were drinking), and Y/N is afraid that Eddie didn't like her and that he was just drunk and she starts ignoring him, and Eddie feels hurt bc he likes her, and when he gets to talk to her again, they end up having sex and confessing

I hope this is what you wanted and you enjoy it. Thank you for requesting <3

⚠️ smut

Girl next door

Y/N has lived alone ever since she turned eighteen, she wanted independence from her parents and to be on her own. She rented out a tiny little house in a quiet neighborhood, and that's when she met the Munsons. Eddie and Claire Munson, a couple that Y/N found herself watching from her window.

They fought constantly, and their loud voices filled the neighborhood. She could hear Claire slam the front door every single time she ran out. She'd come back the next day, but just to fight and leave all over again. It was a marriage that never seemed to have a good day.

Eddie Munson caught her eye the most. His long hair, his mature face, the small amount of facial hair she craved to feel against her. His brown eyes, the eyes that she imagined looking up at her between her thighs. He was a wet dream and she had many.

She wondered what he did on the nights his wife left. Did he sleep in their bed alone? Did he miss her or thankful she was gone?

Y/N knew it was inappropriate to not only have a crush on her older neighbor but even worse to have a crush on a married one. But she couldn't help it.

He filled her mind all the time.

When she was in the shower, her hands between her thighs as she leaned against the wall. The image of him behind her, his chest against her back.

When she stood in her kitchen, the window gave her the perfect spot to watch him work in the yard. His white tank top clung to his wet skin, and his hair tied up. His tattoos glistened up and down his arms.

When she tried to sleep but the ache from her cunt kept her restless. When she pushed a pillow between her legs and moved her hips down on it. Her hand slipped under her shirt as she felt her chest. She'll never forget when she reached toward her window, just inches above her bed, peeled back the curtain, and saw right into their bedroom. Her hips froze on her pillow as she watched him jerk off. His shirt was pushed up on his chest, giving her the glory of seeing his stomach clenching as his hand worked on his cock. She barely noticed that she started moving on her pillow again. Her eyes glued on him as she rubbed her cunt against the soft fabric. His eyes clenched and his head thrown back, the white ropes of cum landing on his stomach. The way his eyes looked over, staring right back at her as she came in her underwear. She immediately moved the curtains back, embarrassment in her body when she realized what she had done.

But nothing ever happened and she never spoke to him. It was a cat-and-mouse game, almost. Sneaking looks at each other through the windows.

After a year, on her nineteenth birthday, Claire left for good. Y/N watched as she threw her bags in the car. Y/N kept an eye on their driveway for months, but Claire never came back. She assumed the couple got the divorce that was needed.

But with Claire gone, Eddie went outside more often. And a few times, Y/N found herself in conversation with him. She cursed herself for being attracted to him even more. He was even more beautiful up close.

Eddie invited her in for a beer on a random Friday night. And they got closer. She learned about his life, and he learned about her. He knew she was young, and apologized if it was weird to invite her in. But she didn't care and he honestly didn't either.

On her twenty-first birthday, he declared it was his duty as a friend to take her to the bar. A year passed of her hanging out with him almost every day, and she couldn't stop herself from falling in love with him. He was older, divorced, and at a different stage in life than her. But that made her want him more. She just feared maybe for him it didn't go past sexual tension.

"You look amazing!" He complimented, a smile on his face as she twirled in her dress. Neither knew her dress would be thrown to the floor in the backseat of his car.

She was drunk and he was drunk, both stumbling in his car. Then before she knew it, their lips met in a heated kiss. They were rushed as they tore each other's clothes off. Their tongues tangled together as Y/N took off Eddie's belt and unzipped his jeans. Her body lay against his seat as he settled on top of her, his cock buried in her as he fucked her. She loved the way he stretched her open, his nails dug into her sides, and his mouth attacking her neck. Her brain melted, all she could do was lay back and let him have his way with her.

"How long have you been thinking about this, huh? Don't think I don't see you watching me all the time." He teased, his voice mocking. "Fuck, baby. You feel so good clenching around my cock. Sweet tight cunt."

She whimpered from his words, her hand moving down to her clit. She gasped as she rubbed her clit, moaning into Eddie's face as she felt herself getting close.

She came as the car shook and the windows fogged.

~~~

That was a week ago.

She barely remembers how she got home, but she remembered the feeling of his cock inside of her.

But she's been too scared to see him since. When she woke up alone in her head, the feeling of his skin ghosted her.

She was afraid it meant nothing to him. That he was drunk and didn't mean it. He wasn't interested and she was too young. She couldn't handle the rejection.

She avoided him as much as she could. When she went out to grab her mail the next morning, he was walking over with a smile on his face. She panicked and raced inside.

Or when she was tanning in her backyard and he walked out to grill. Before he could say a word she raced back inside.

Every day she was close to him but she ran away every time.

~~~

Eddie was puzzled by Y/N's behavior. He thought they had a good night together and to him, the sex was the best he's ever had. He could still feel her lips and the way she clenched around him. But anytime he got close to her, she ran away.

He hated to admit he was upset. He didn't plan to date after his divorce, but Y/N was different. She made him feel things he'd never felt. She felt amazing underneath his body and how she came all over him. The lust in her eyes and smeared lipstick.

He liked this girl and now she won't even look at him. Was it just a little fling for her? Like getting the older guy for fun but nothing serious?

Eddie refused to let another weak pass without clearing the air. He wasn't going to let her ignore him.

He grabbed a case of beer and walked over. He hated that he was a man in his 40s, and scared to talk to a fucking girl.

He knocked on the door, impatiently waiting.

Y/N was shocked to see Eddie on the other side of her door. She didn't know what to say.

"Can we talk? I brought beer." Eddie suggested, holding up his case of beer. Y/N stepped aside, she hid from him long enough and now she needs to be an adult.

They went to her living room. Eddie cracked open the beer and handed her one, then cracked his own. He sat next to her and took a deep breath.

"Why are you avoiding me?" Eddie asked, he tried to sound soft but he couldn't help but sound annoyed.

"I'm not." She shrugged, avoiding his eyes as she looked around the room.

"Knock it off, you ran away every time I got near you. And I thought you were mature and I thought you weren't a teenage girl. But I see I'm wrong." Eddie scoffed. She shrunk in her seat, hating the scolding tone in his voice.

"I don't know if it's because we have different generations or shit, but the way I was raised was when you fuck someone, you don't ghost them. I don't know if that's a younger group type of thing. Where you mess around with no feelings involved. So I can sit here and assume these things about you, or you could speak up and tell me what the hell is going on." Eddie snapped.

Y/N couldn't help but feel turned on by the way he was scolding her. His voice was rough and sharp. She almost wanted him to ruin her and tell her everything she did wrong. She placed her beer on the floor, moving over to his lap.

Eddie watched her confused as she sat in his lap. She grabbed the beer from his hand and moved it to the floor. She took his empty hands and placed them on her back, right above her ass.

"Did I make you mad?" She mocked, her lips moving down his jaw. Her hands moved up and down his chest.

"Yes." He spat, his right hand moving off her body, to slam down on her ass. Y/N moaned and jolted forward. Her cunt brushed over his hard cock.

"I'm sorry for being such a brat about it. Maybe I need to be taught a lesson in manners?" Her bottom lip pouted as her hands moved into his hair, yanking on his curls. He clenched his jaw as his head yanked back. His eyes were on her.

"You want me to teach you?" He played along, his hands gripping her ass.

He quickly switched positions, throwing her on the couch, her knees on the cushions and her body bent over it. He stood behind her, wasting no time to yank down her shorts. He slapped her ass once more. Bending down to bite her unmarked ass cheek.

"Now baby, when I fucked you in my car like the slut you are, did you like it?" He asked, his hand moving her underwear to the side. His finger slowly rubbed her clit.

"Yes, sir." She moaned, her mind already melting as his fingers slipped inside of her. She was soaked and embarrassed.

"And don't you think it would have been polite to tell me that?" His fingers fucked inside of her nice and slow. Her wetness dripped down his palm and her thighs.

"Yes, sir." She gripped the couch as he sped up. The sounds of her wet cunt echoed around them.

"But you decided to be a little bitch and hide from me," Eddie growled, his free hand moving to her chest, and squeezing her breast.

"Now what should you say about that?"

"I'm sorry!" She gasped out, he was fucking her hard, his fingers scissoring inside of her.

"Good girl" he praised, kissing down her spine.

"Want your cock." She begged, reaching behind her. But Eddie grabbed her hand and held it against her back. Leaning down towards her ear.

"Oh no, brats don't get my cock. Especially brats who act like I don't exist." Eddie said

"I'm sorry! I am!" She begged but he refused. Sliding his fingers in and out of her as fast as he could. His other hand reached down to rub her clit.

"Why did you do it?" Eddie pushed, he could feel her cunt clenching around him. He knew she was getting close.

"I...I" all she could do was stutter and moan. Her head spun as she felt her orgasm building. His fingers circled her clit perfectly.

"Tell me or you don't get to cum."

"Please, I need to cum!" She begged but he didn't slow down. Forcing her body to get close.

"Say it!"

"I WAS SCARED! I didn't want you to reject me and I like you and fuck, I've liked you for so long." Her orgasm was right there, two more circles on her clit and she'd be cumming. "I was scared it was only because you were drunk and I'd be too young to have a relationship with you. Scared it was sex and that's it." She panted. "Didn't want to be a young fuck FOR YOU!" she screamed as she came, he fingered her through it. He touched her clit with the perfect amount of pressure and attention. She clawed at the couch as she soaked his fingers.

"That's a good girl. Keep cumming, baby. Give it all to me." He praised, fingering her slowly as he helped her ride it out. Her hips pushed back on his fingers as she rode his fingers.

She fell onto the couch, her body weak. Eddie slipped his fingers out of her, moving her underwear over to soak up her wetness. He gave her covered cunt a harsh slap. He turned her around, his hand on her neck as she faced him. Her face was red as she panted.

"My pretty girl, so much more than a young fuck." He said, his knees on either side of her as he placed himself above her lap.

"Really?" She whimpered out, her voice insecure and weak.

"Mhhm, I like you too. And I've liked you for years. Sure, a young pretty girl catches the eye of the neighbor in a troubled marriage. Teases me through the windows, thinks of me when you masturbate, and even watches me jerk off. Practically a porno in the making. " He teased, a smile on his face. "But what if the older neighbor admitted to his wife there was another woman stuck in his head? So she left. And I finally went after you, I made all the moves and we became friends. We got drunk and had the best sex of our lives. And it was great because there were feelings from both of us." He continued.

"I like you, and it killed me to watch you run away from me." He admitted, his fingers tracing her face.

"I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you." She apologized, her hand covering his on her face.

"It's okay, I was scared too."

"Does this mean I get to date my extremely sexy older neighbor?" She asked, wiggling her eyebrows. A warm feeling in her stomach as Eddie laughed.

"Mhhm definitely." He whispered, leaning down to smash his lips on hers.

For the first time, they spent the night together. Her head was on his chest, his fingers playing with her hair. Eddie felt loved and wanted, two things he didn't have in his marriage but he found it in the girl next door.

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[dark-and-kawaii]

I love the idea of Raphael and Haarlep tag teaming tav but it shows that Haarlep has feelings for our lovely tav.

꧁ 𝒯𝓌𝑜 𝐹𝑜𝓇 𝒪𝓃𝑒 ꧂

Raphael is a selfish lover in bed, but Haarlep is always there to bring you comfort and to make sure you get off.

NSFW - Double Penetration

You were a part of their house now, a part of their lives, their daily routines... Tonight was no different than the others. Raphael's cock was relentless as he hammered into your pussy while Haarlep's rather large and thick cock was spearing deep into your ass. You could feel the two rigid members pushing and sliding inside you, almost touching one another... Just separated by the thin membrane between the two canals of your body.

Sweat trickled down Raphael's forehead, he could barely contain his pleasure, “Such good obedient pets." A low groan emanating from him, he's so close to spilling himself into you again... Between your pussy gripping him like a vice and him being able to feel Haarlep pump in and out of your ass you were surprised he's lasted as long as he has tonight.

Haarlep could only chuckle at Raphael's retort, their mouth on your shoulder giving you tender kisses. There was something there between you and the Incubus, they'd always try to comfort you in your discomfort.

Haarlep knew this was a lot on your body, knew how it brought you pain every time in the start to have both of them deep inside you at the same time. Both of you couldn't deny Raphael though, if you did it would only lead to other torments.

Your body felt feverish and tingled all over. Your right hand gripping Raphael's shoulder as your other hand got lost in Haarlep's hair, pressing the side of their face to yours.

Raphael thrusts himself up, he never cared about your pleasure on nights like these. No, it was all about him, never keeping in sync with Haarlep, his thrusts sloppy. Haarlep on the other hand would slow his thrusts and wait for the perfect moment to become in sync with their master. They knew it would bring you bliss and that you’d enjoy this far more. Haarlep began to match the thrusts of Raphael, as he pulled back, Haarlep would push in and then they reversed. Again and again, faster and faster they built their rhythm and kept up the pace, “Only for you, little mouse.” is what Haarlep would whisper in your ear for only you to hear…

Your climax was rising fast as were theirs, you could feel both their cocks twitch… You screamed out as the final wave of fire washed out from between your legs. It was enough to set Raphael off, his nails buried in your hips as he held himself deep; streams of his seed filling your womb.

Haarlep slammed forward, hard and deep he helped himself to his own release. Completely buried in your ass he began to cum, thick streams of cum filled your anal canal. You could feel it overfill you as it began to flow around their cock until it began to leak out.

You sobbed and gasped for air, it sounded as if you were on your final breath begging for death not to take you. Raphael laid there beneath you, sucking in his own breath while Haarlep was ever so composed, their breath barely abnormal.

Haarlep enveloped you in their arms before you could collapse on their master. Both their cocks still buried in you until Raphael snapped his fingers and was no longer a part of you. You could feel his seed slowly leak out of your used sex…

He could only stare at the state you were in, “What a riveting performance.” He stepped back towards his bed, paying no mind to his slave as he wiped your disheveled hair away from your face, “Oh apple of my eye,” Raphael held your chin, your eyes barely open trying your best to look at him, “it’s always a delight to feel how tight you are.” His joy was cut short just as his brown eyes traveled to Haarlep, his face scrunching bearing witness to the incubus’s lips upon the back of your neck.

Tossing your chin to the side harshly, Raphael walks away “Clean this mess before I return, I’ve other business that needs attending.”

Haarlep looks at the back of his head, “Our, little mouse shall be pristine by the time you come knocking once more.” Their voice teasing.

[hennyjwrites]

Rio trapping his wife again

Y’all already had 5 kids. All boys. You gave up a long time ago on having a little girl but Rio hadn’t. Your youngest was almost a year old and for some reason Rio thought that gave him the green light to have another.

“Christopher im gonna punch you if you don’t leave me alone.” You mumbled as he kissed on your neck. He had told you earlier that night. that he wanted to try for another baby. Your sons were spending the night with his grandma upon her request and that gave Rio the perfect opportunity.

“Gimme just one more.” He begged, sucking slightly on your sweet spot.

You tried to resist him, you really did. But a few more begs, traveling fingers, and a few more kisses, ended up with you fucking him. All night.

He was so good that by the end of the night, he had you begging for him to give you another baby.

That would end up being his routine. After you gave him the green light, He made sure to cum in at least once a day, to ensure he would get his daddy’s girl

A few months later, after getting sick every morning for over a week, and become nauseous to every smell, you went to the doctor. Even though you recognized the symptoms, surprise surprise! Your pregnant.

Of course Rio took care of you your entire pregnancy. Held your hair if you sick, massaged your feet, talked to the baby everyday. Only it wasn’t just him, it was all your sons too. They cared for you and their youngest sibling just like Rio did.

Rio felt this pregnancy was different. He just knew that you were having a baby girl. And boy was he right and wrong at the same time.

By the time you were 5 months you were as large as a house. You brought it up at your doctors appointment and weren’t you surprised.

“There’s baby number 1.” The doctor said showing you where the first baby sat. “And there’s baby number 2.” She moved the mouse over a little bit more. “And then there’s baby number 3!”

Both yours and Rios mouths dropped when she announced you were having triplets. The doctor asked did you want to know the genders and you and Rio both said yes.

“It seems that your having 3 identical girls!” Congratulations mom and dad!” The doctor cheered before giving you some privacy.

Rio stood and gave you the biggest hug and kiss in the world, with his eyes filled with tears. “You heard that beautiful? Three little girls.” He held you for what seemed like eternity in joy.

When you got home and announced it to your sons, the amount of joy that was through the house could blow the roof off. All throughout your pregnancy they all helped you pick out clothes, shoes, and toys all for their little sisters

3 months later and you went into early labor. Your labor lasted for 32 hours, with you screaming, crying, and even staying calm at some point. When you were finally able to push it took around 30 minutes to get each baby out.

Rio stood next to the bed holding his first daughter, on his right and his second daughter in his left. You held your third daughter from the bed. They looked more like you than him. They had the perfect shade of brown with your beautiful eyes, but they took his nose. Each girl was born with a head full of hair.

He couldn’t wait until they started to develop into their own person. He wanted to see would they take after you or him. It was his favorite parts of watching his babies grow up.

“Thank you.” Rio whispered. “You gave me 3 more beautiful kids. I love you more than you’ll ever know baby.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. When he pulled back he bit his lip. “2 more and we’re done.” He laughed, hoping you would agree.

You scoffed, before looking at your babies. “These 3 are going to run you down, not even including the other 5. your not gonna want anymore.”

You both laughed and waited for your sons to come and meet their new baby sisters.

[writingsbychlo]

HOW TO SAVE A LIFE | rhysand

summary; trapped under the mountain, starfall has always been your favourite holiday and you miss it. tonight, this time, you have one opportunity to share it with someone.

word count; 5577

notes; starfall day 3!! but also, go easy on me, I didn't proofread this. it's like midnight here, I am exhausted, let's not judge obvious mistakes 😅 also, please note, this takes place UTM, and references to rhys' SA are alluded to, so read with caution!!

‘how to save a life’ moodboard

The corridors were utterly silent as you paced up and down. Back and forth, back and forth. Your eyes flickered to the shadows across the floor moving through the open windows, your only way of measuring how much time passed was with the moon’s manipulations. As the shadows encroached closer and closer to the small scuff you’d marked as your limit on the floor, you gave a heavy sigh. 

Your thumb was in your mouth, chewing the nail anxiously, and as that thought came into focus, you removed it, scoffing idly at yourself. You weren’t in trouble. Yet. In fact, you could leave right now, and nobody would have even known it was you, you’d fly right under the radar, as you’d always done, and bring no attention to yourself. 

Who were you kidding? You weren’t going anywhere. Not even as the ceaseless pounding of your heart threatened to crack your ribs, not even as the lingering fear in the back of your mind about what you’d already done to get here made you dizzy. You were waiting it out. 

Your gaze flickered back to the silvery streaks pouring in through the window. 

Time’s almost up.

You finally paused your pacing, staring down at it as darkness crept out of silver, marking your timer. You waited for a second longer, lifting the edge of your dress and poking at it with a scuffed shoe. 

This is it.

You weren’t sure whether it was crushing relief or crushing disappointment weighing you down, that sank your shoulders into a slump that made you feel as though you were holding up the whole world. Shaking out a sigh and loosening your shoulders, that relaxation lasted for only a second, before a dark chuckle emanate from the shadows, and you were whipping around to peer into them. 

You didn’t see him at first, gaping at the darkness until he stepped out, looking every bit like a devil dressed in finery. Purple eyes glowing in the moonlight, the sharp lines of his face like jagged peaks in the dark of the hall, tall and intimidating, with a sinister smirk sat on his lips. 

“You, Little Mouse, are the one who called me here?” Like magic - well, with magic - the letter you’d scrawled in a hurry and slipped under his door mere hours ago appeared between his fingers. Scratchy, torn brown parchment, with other notes and lists and words scribbled out and crossed, reused over and over because it was all you had. 

You steeled your nerves, rolling your shoulders back and tipping your chin up to look at him as he stepped close, close enough to smell the luxurious soap that had your head spinning once again. “I did.”

Your voice only trembled a little as you spoke, and you were proud to get the words out at all. You’d never been afraid of Rhysand, but at this moment, as all that big half-Illyrian warrior and High Lord stood before you, you’d be a fool not to be at least a little intimidated. “For what?” 

He all but purred the words, smirk widening a little more, brows rising at you and his head cocked to the side. 

“A bargain… a fuck… a good look at true power? What could you,” He cast a scornful and slow stare over your body, the torn rags you called a dress, the scuffed and scratched shoes, the messy hair and dirt under your fingernails that made you hide your hands behind your back. “Possibly want from me?”

Your mouth dropped open, words silenced as you tried to work out what to say to him, but his sneer made you second-guess yourself. Maybe this was a bad idea, maybe everything you thought was wrong, maybe-

You didn’t get a chance to think any further, before the sound of pounding footsteps and angry voices bouncing off of the stone walls made every decision for you. If you were caught here, lowly and unworthy up in the higher courtrooms of the mountain palace, you’d be flogged for sure. Worse, they’d be sure to get the truth out of you, sure to get the truth of everything you’d done just to get here tonight. 

For that, they’d kill you.

In a spur of boldness that you’d most likely come to regret, your arm shot out, saving him as well as yourself as your nimble fingers wrapped around his muscle-corded forearm. Even through heavy layers of expensive black silk shirts and embroidered blazers, you could feel him tense at the abrupt contact. Dragging him along behind you, you didn’t hesitate, weaving through corridors and pathways, past floor-to-ceiling windows and being sure to remain out of sight. 

He spluttered behind you for the first few seconds, almost enough to pull a smile at your lips with the image of the terrifying Lord of Night spluttering, but your panic was far too high to even entertain that kind of thought right now. He yanked his arm free, a growl on his lips as your fingernails scratched at the soft fabric of his blazer, surely messing up some of the threads, but right now, your adrenaline was too high to be concerned with such trivial fears. 

Everywhere you turned, voices could be hurried; hurried and panicked and frantic. Boots marched, people corralled out of their way, heels tapping and weapons scraping along the floor as they were dragged. A busy, busy night indeed. 

All your fault, a voice taunted in your head, a tendril of regret finally making itself known as you fled. Despite it all, curiosity seemed to have gotten the best of Rhysand, because he was following you, despite your grip no longer being on him. He could have stopped you, even with all that dark power suppressed he would possess enough to freeze every cell in your body to his command with nothing but a wink, and yet, he didn’t. 

His long legs carried him at more of a fast walk to your hurried run behind you, and you jerked with shock when you felt the sharp scratch of an icy talon, then two, then three, scratched down your thick mental barriers. You could feel a ripple of twisted fascination burst from him at encountering any walls at all, at someone who knew how to track and resist a daemati. 

The tall doors at the end of your final corridor beckoned you forward, with intricate designs etched into the front, and thick wood that would hide you both on the other side. You’d already picked the locks, your feet finally slowing down as relief enough to make you almost collapse as you came to a halt before them. Twisting the knob with a prayer that nobody had somehow discovered your plan, locked them again to keep you out, a shaky laugh left you as the door creaked open with just a little pressure. 

Nothing but inky darkness spilt out from inside, and you stepped into it, welcoming its cold embrace and its camouflage, its protection. He followed you in, stepping through with one graceful stride, and your back collapsed onto it to push it closed, a heavy sigh leaving you as your heart rate began to even back out at last. Now, you could barely make out the silhouette of him before you, but you could feel his presence all around, like a weighted blanket closing in. 

His stare was even heavier, you didn’t need to see those violet eyes to feel the depth of them on you.

You smiled anyway, wondering if he could see you through the dark, another gift those lucky High Fae perhaps had that your lowly kind did not. Your steps were rehearsed, pacing across the room, acutely aware of where he was as he followed, just from the buzz of his leaking power on the air, all the way to the window at the far side of the room. Scraping back heavy curtains on either side of clear glass doors, you’d already picked those locks too in preparation. 

Swinging the doors open and stepping out into milky moonlight on the terrace, you took your first real breath of fresh air in weeks, sighing happily at the cold breeze of the early-Spring night.

The curse trapping you both here shimmered before you, barely an inch from the edge of the stone, and you reached out, never touching it, never risking letting it tell of your true location, but hovering your hand before it, feeling the cruel zap in warning of Amarantha’s boundaries. Never to escape, never to leave, trapped here Under The Mountain.

Your peace was shattered by the rough, animal growl of the man behind you, patience audibly fraying.

“Alright, Little Mouse, I’ve played your game. But, you know how it ends when the cat catches the prey, so what do you want?”

Finally, you turned to face him, hands clenching once again behind your back, hoping this time it would hide the tremor as your intentions were finally to be revealed. “I want nothing.”

“Everyone wants something from me. So, what is it?” He stepped a fraction closer, a snarl curling on his lips, ugly power taking over a handsome face.

“Alright, fine.” You mused, stepping a footstep closer to him as well. “What I wanted… was for you to see the sky.”

He visibly faltered, for all the roles he played and the masks he wore, this one slipped for just a second, his eyes widening as though it was a riddle, brows furrowing even deeper, and scowl twisting to a frown of confusion. “Why?”

“Because it is Starfall tonight.”

This time, his mask didn’t just falter, it crumbled entirely, the façade coming crashing down around his feet as his jaw dropped. His throat bobbed as he swallowed thickly, gaze flicking over you in an entirely new light now, eyes narrowing to assess you but no malice behind those pretty iris’ now. “You know of Starfall?”

“Of course. It is my favourite holiday.”

An unsteady breath rushed from him, like he’d taken a hit to the lungs, eyes widening as he stared. His shoulders slumped, rigid posture melting away until he looked positively world-weary, arms hanging by his sides. It was then that he wiped a hand over his face, realising a tired laugh, and you wrapped your arms loosely around yourself. 

He didn’t recognise you, of course he didn’t you’d been counting on it for this plan to work. You just didn’t realise how cold and lonely actually having that fact acknowledged would make you feel. Rolling up one tatty sleeve of your dress to reveal swirls of blank ink beginning to climb up your forearm from your wrist, his eyes somehow seemed to widen further.

He took your wrist in his hand, your fingers tightening to a fist as a shocked gasp sounded, his touch like fire and warmth and comfort all in one as he gripped you firmly, but cautiously. Turning your arm over in his hold, he pushed your sleeve all the way up to your bicep, tracing the patterns with one fingertip, touch so light it made you shiver. Your bargain marks, messy and rough and ugly, just like the deals you’d had to strike which resulted in them.

“These… these are bargain marks. These are Night Court marks.” He traced again, thumb swiping over the pulse point on your wrist, feeling the race of it under the pad, before lowering the fabric back down to cover them again, and releasing your arm. “The marks of my court.”

His voice cracked, something within you shattering at the sound of it, and you choked down a well of thick emotion as you thought of home, for the first time in a very long while. One a whisper as broken as his voice had been, you uttered; “Yes.”

Too much weight in his stare, too many memories of a place you missed like a lost lover, too many bargains made here just to survive. 

It was all so horrible. 

“I didn’t know. I had no idea anyone from my court was here.”

There were questions loaded in that sentence. How did you get here? Why are you trapped? Who brought you? What was your reason? You wanted to answer them all, but at first, a single shrug was all that came to mind. It was so overwhelming, not only to be standing here, finally talking to the one person who could understand your longing for home, but to be standing here with your High Lord, someone you’d spent centuries admiring, decades pitying, and months plotting for.

This time, it was he who attempted a smile in comfort. It helped.

“I was travelling at the time. Seeing all of Prythian, and finding work wherever I could to find my adventure.” A horrible feeling you’d spent so long crying over worming its way back in. 

You’d spent so long dreaming of getting away from the Night Court, to explore and see the rest of the continent, of the world, and now it was all you wanted to go back. To stay forever, curled up on the windowsill of a cosy apartment that overlooked the glowing lights of Velaris, close enough to hear the music from the Rainbow and hear the happy voices, watch the snow fall or bluebells sprout. You wanted it so badly it ached.

“At the time of…” You waved a hand, throat stinging as you wrestled with emotion, unable to even say the words of this foul curse aloud, even after centuries, “I was working for the Vanserra’s. No one important, as it had always been for me, but they always bring their own staff to the parties. In case you hadn't noticed, Beron is quite high-maintenance, and Eris is terribly paranoid and suspicious.”

A laugh burst from him, rough and grating and unsteady, like he hadn't used it in so long, but it blossomed something in your chest that you thought had died long ago.

“I was one of the lowly serving staff they brought with them that fateful night, to keep Lady Autumn’s glass filled with wine, so she’d never have to lift a single finger. Unfortunately, that meant that when they were trapped, I was too. All that wish for adventure. I got a little more excitement than I bargained for, I suppose.” 

Silence settled, the story hanging between you like mist on the morning air, your head turning and gaze shifting to the twinkling stars overhead. Several minutes seemed to pass as he processed it all, and decided what to say next, a hand skimming your shoulder lightly, as though hesitant to dare touch you at all. “Why did you never come to me, before tonight?”

The laugh that tumbled from your lips was self-pitying and sad. Running your hands over the tatty skirt you wore, it felt obvious. 

He was, arguably, beside Amarantha, the most important person here. You were nobody. He wore a new suit embellished with gold and silver, you wore a dirty dress that had more patches and sewing than the original fabric. He smelled of fresh soap and aftershave, you smelled of bleach from scrubbing the floors and cinders from the fireplaces. He slept in silk sheets on a big bed, all to himself, you’d been sharing a dormitory for ten years with scratchy bedding and broken mattresses. 

And yet, you wouldn't trade with him for all the riches in the world. Your anonymity was all that protected you.

You were nobody. You meant nothing. But tonight, just tonight, you had the chance to be something.

“To what end? We’re both trapped, you have your role to play, and I have mine.”

His smile was as weak and empty as your laugh was. “It’s been ten years. I could have… I could have don’t something to help, made life easier for you, so that you weren’t so alone.”

There was a pain in his voice, a kind of ongoing struggle you’d come to terms with years ago, but it was like a fresh slice across sensitive skin for him. You reached out, hand hovering lightly over his arm, unsure whether or not it was your place. Then again, it was a barrier you’d already crossed in an adrenaline-fuelled panic. Settling your hand lightly onto his forearm, you squeezed gently, hoping it was as reassuring for him as you intended. 

“I don’t know how-”

“It’s okay, truly.” Your throat bobbed, the informality of this whole situation was surreal, only the chill in the air, wind whistling through rips in threadbare fabric keeping you grounded. “I was never alone, it’s hard ever to be alone around here. It was just lonely.”

He hummed, a non-committal response, and his mind seemed elsewhere. A heavy sigh, and then his head tipped back, eyes moving to watch the motionless stars twinkle in the sky. It wasn’t until the third shaky breath and slight sniff, hands clenching by his side, that you realised he was choking back powerful emotions. For you.

“Please, don’t worry for me, my Lord.” Your hand swept comfortingly, twice, up and down his arms, that fist of that hand smoothed out when your fingers brushed his the pulse on his wrist. Words, hanging on the tip of your tongue, dangerous and risky and presumptive, but it felt like the two of you had far surpassed those kinds of barriers by now. “It looks far lonelier and far more hurtful at the Queen’s side than where I am.”

His head snapped back down, all that anguish temporarily banished from swirling violet eyes as he studied you once again. It was like a thousand thoughts flashing through his mind too fast for you to read in his eyes. Your lungs were frozen, burning for air but unable to take any oxygen in, eyes wide and body locked as you waited. He was putting something together, he knew, his lips pressing into a thin line and you didn’t know whether this would flip it all over wrongly. 

His head cocked to the side, licking over one lip, before the edges of his lips were flickering at the edges, just slightly. 

“It was you.”

“What was me?” You’d always been a bad liar, gaze flicking away from his and it was your turn now to let the stars distract you. A talon, scraping at your mental shields again, a warning that he could if he wanted to, break through and you’d never even know. Instead, a single finger hooked under your chin, turning your face back to him. 

“It was you. You, who suddenly unearthed this mysterious prophecy about the human girl breaking the curse. You, who has Amarantha on such a wild goose chase that she has no time for… me. At least, not for a while.” He looked awed now, a reassured expression, and his hand slipped from your chin up, to cup your face. Your throat was tight, painfully so, the simple bit of affection making your eyes water and the truth poured from you in a nod. “You were so scared in the halls, pacing and fretting before I even got there. Your fear was heavy in the air. When you heard the voices and the footfalls, you fled. It was you.”

“It was me.” His breath raced from him, lips parted, and you raised your own hand. Holding his to your face, you stole a few selfish seconds, head tipping further into his palm as his thumb swept over your cheekbone; a few sacred moments of comfort. “Buying you a few hours to yourself on this night was the least I could do, my Lord. You may not have known I was here, but some of your actions, the small mercies you disguise as cruelties, have done more for me than you could ever know.”

“Call me Rhysand. Please.” He was fighting tears, much the same as you were, and his other hand joined the first, holding your face up to his own as he stepped a little closer. The warmth from his body was like a magnet you, swayed toward him, the moonlight glowing on his skin like it was made to decorate him and him alone. “At least… at least, when we’re alone. I don’t want to be anything but myself with you. You see me. You’re the only person down here who does..”

You didn’t have to force a smile anymore. It was the first one that felt honestly genuine in years. His thumbs swept a couple more times, before his arms were shaking with restraint, and he pulled them away. Silence settled around you both. With one more glance at the stars, your arms wrapped around yourself, and you turned back to him. “Enjoy the stars, Rhysand.”

There would be nothing to see, no falling stars and souls finding their way. But, just knowing that it was happening out there, watching these ones stay still and twinkle gently, it was enough to feel connected to home, just for a little while. Stepping away from him, the loneliness creeping back up already felt suffocating, like ice water ready to drag you into the darkness and the depths. 

His hand shot out, fingers wrapping around your own, firm but gentle, insistent but pleading. “Please- please, don’t go. Stay with me. Spend Starfall with me?”

It was an offer like you could only dream of, to spend Starfall with someone else once again, someone who knew. You had no idea how to say yes, mouth hanging open, but he seemed to get the gist, lips curling into a real smile now. Not the cruel grin he wore every day, not the cocky smirk. This was real, this was beauty and emotions and trust. 

“Yes?”

“Yes. I would like that.” This opportunity could never happen again, and so you weren’t going to let it just fly past like a misguided star. He tugged you back a little closer, letting your hand go when you fell into place by his side, and his body dropped any remaining tension. He rested his hands on the railing, cautious not to touch that barrier of the curse, and tapping the space beside him for you to join. 

You did, the two of you staring out quietly at the vast lands, the bright skies, the empty space; nobody ever dared near the centre of the horrid curse killing the lands.

“I miss the grass.”

“I have a friend… a brother, who has terrible allergies. Even a speck of pollen, and he’s sneezing and eyes running.” A wistful look took over his features, amusement and nostalgia crackling under the surface. “It’s quite the sight to see a warlord sneeze and curse at a flower.”

Your mind followed, reeling a little as the puzzle pieces clicked into place. “General Cassian… has hay fever?”

“Don’t tell him I told you, he’d string me up by my boxers from the pillars of the moonstone palace.” The sounds of your laughter bounced off of the stony sides of the mountain, echoes disappearing into the tonight, mixed with his deep chuckles. A kind of harmony formed, peace, a small bubble of a happy memory like a light amongst so much darkness. You’d look back on this moment for years, possibly decades to come, relishing in the way it felt to smile again, to have companionship and real happiness, even if it didn’t last long. “I miss the smell of the Sidra just after it rains.”

“I miss watching the snow fall at Solstice.”

“I miss the way it would feel after the snow melted, that first truly warm day.”

It somehow became a game, swapping back and forth, each thing you missed. Some were funny, others nostalgic, some were his royal experiences that made his cheeks heat and sweet chuckles leave his lips when you teased him, others had the same experience on you. 

The conversation shifted, he asked you all about your travels, told you of his favourite places he’d seen in different courts, and asked you if you’d ever been there. He told you stories about all of his adventures, as you did for him, watching the moon slowly inching its way across the dark sky as you confided in one another, all your deepest pain and joy and excitement. He told you about his friends, the shadow singer, the general, the terrifying creature from another world. He was so passionate, he loved so deeply, that by the time he’d finished, you felt as though you knew them too, like you loved them too.

Then, when your cheeks ached and your stomach was sore from all the laughing, when every happy memory had been shared, reality set back in once again. 

“I miss home.”

“Me too.” With your simple response, his gaze fixed once again above your heads, so far away and yet you longed to be there.

“It's- it’s just so godsdamned nice, that just one person knows I’m not a villain.” His words startled you, a fresh batch of pain, something deep and primal exposed like an open wound right to the heart. When you turned to face him, he was staring at the stars, but soft trails of moonlight trickled in fat tears down his cheeks. “Sometimes, so many days pass by where I can’t even look at myself in the mirror, where I can’t even bear the sound of my own name, knowing the way it’ll go down in history. This, this night, your company and your kindness, it makes it feel worth it. That just one person will not hate me, for the rest of my life, makes it feel like it's enough.”

When he finally faced you, wet cheeks and red eyes and exposed vulnerability, you gave him the same comfort he’d given you. With hands on his cheeks to wipe away those tears, you gave your best smile, letting his head hang heavily in your palms for a while. “You’ll never be the villain in my story, Rhysand.”

His lip wobbled, and he twisted his head, lips brushing your palm as he pressed a series of fragile, trembling kisses there. “Thank you, thank you, thank you.”

Your shiver wasn’t from the cold, but from his blatant affection. At the act, however, his pained look became dismayed, glancing over your thin attire with disappointment. He stood, reluctantly peeling your hands from his face long enough to slide down the large blazer he wore, and slipping it over your shoulders. When he pulled the lapels tightly around your body, the plush lining, still filled with his body heat, was like wrapping up in front of the fireplace, on the very rare occasions you could steal a minute to do so. 

With a roll of his shoulders, those magnificent wings you’d only ever seen from afar were visible, appearing before your very eyes as though from thin air, as though they’d always been there, only veiled, and you stared unabashedly in amazement. 

Stepping closer, until you were so close your breath bounced off of his chest and you could pick out the threads in his shirt, he wrapped them around you, sealing out cold wind and the rest of the world. 

“Better?”

“Better.” You whispered, and his resulting look of pride warmed you as much from the inside as he did from the outside. After only a brief moment of consideration, you freed one arm, looping it slowly around his waist. When he only tugged you closer, your other arm joined it. Settling your cheek against his shoulder, he moulded his body to your arm, thick arms wrapping around your body in return, sealing you to him in a hug neither of you intended to let go from any time soon. 

His lips traced the top of your head as he turned, a few kisses dotted affectionately along your hairline, drawing happy sighs from you each time. When his head dipped a little further, lips near your temple, it was to quietly murmur, “Would you like to see the stars falling?”

You pulled back, barely a fraction as he refused to let you go at all, but enough to stare up at him. “How?”

“I still have a little of my powers, such as hiding these magnificent wings.” His smirk was positively feline, the nosey Lord having pulled that tidbit from your mind, and warmth raced to your cheeks. “I can show you some of my memories from previous years, if you trust me?”

Another tap of claws on your walls, a soft stroke like a finger over your skin, and you lowered your shields slowly to allow him inside. As soon as you did, you could feel him everywhere. Swarming in your thoughts, filling your head like you were both in there, and giving as much of his feelings away as it did yours. You could feel the relief at knowing someone else’s touch, that lingering guilt for not having known you but the borderline bliss at being here right now. The elation, at being trusted. The joy of having someone to share home with. 

Your eyes fluttered closed on his command, as he began to play the memories over.

Glimpses of parties, of stars and fireworks and sequins and fancy dresses. Twirling and dancing, intoxicated fun, and when you saw Azriel or Cassian or Mor, you felt his love for them like you’d feel your own. It was like seeing it through your own eyes. In this memory, he was making his way through the palace, the House of Wind atop the mountain. 

You’d seen drawings and pictures, of course, glimpsed it from afar on clear days, but nothing had ever compared to these real images of seeing the palace home. It was breathtakingly beautiful. Tall pillars and columns made of marble and moonstone, carved and designed with intricate swirls and stories. Open balconies, large rooms, enough space that it would take you days to learn your way around, and that was just the small glimpses of it you could see now. 

Eventually, he made it to the balcony, one hand braced on the stone as he stared out across Velaris down below, so far and tiny and beautiful, a vibrant ache in your heart as you longed to be back there, one that matched in his own through the connection you’d forged. 

You watched on, as his attention turned to the sky, to the falling stars, glittery and soaring and so close. So colourful up close, you’d never seen such a sight, like being immersed within the colour, becoming a part of nature temporarily, leaving you breathless and high on the feeling. 

You watched and watched, as he once had, what felt like hours slipping by until it came to an end, and your cheeks felt wet when you finally felt him pull back from your mind. Not entirely, no, a piece of him was still lingering there behind your consciousness, a comforting weight, but your senses were all back, like your spirit had sunk back into your body.

“Thank you for showing me that.”

“Incredible, isn’t it?” 

“That stars,” you breathed, “I’ve never seen it so clearly. They were so close, like you could just reach out and touch them.”

He wiped away your tears with one arm, the other still sealed tightly around you, soon to be rejoined. “You can, and when we get out of here someday, I’ll show it to you. I’ll show you so much, give you so much.”

There was nothing else to say, no more words that could fathom this feeling. But, you didn’t need them. You knew that he knew, his presence in your mind was sure to trace it. So, instead, you just snuggled in closer, cheek on his shoulder once again, and eyes sliding closed as you let yourself sink fully into his embrace. 

He needed this as much as you did, a two-way street now opened between your minds, and a selfish part of you hoped he never took it away, that even when you were alone, you’d never be lonely again. That fraction of darkness in your mind flickered, as if making a promise.

“Why? Why did you do this for me?” He eventually asked, the question that had been hovering all night. “When I have done nothing for you?”

“Because, Rhysand, I have seen you from afar. You’ve seemed so empty, lately. I wanted to give you something to remind you to hold on.”

He’s breathless, you could feel it under your own thudding heart as his pulse raced and he panted softly into your hairline, trying to settle. “Someday, I’ll take you home. Back to Velaris, where we belong. I’ll make up for everything you’ve had to go through. You’ll never want for anything, you’ll never be alone again. But, while we’re still here, I’ll make up for these ten years I’ve missed already. What can I do, what do you want first?”

“Those are beautiful promises, Rhysand, and I appreciate them, but I don’t need them. All I want, all I need, is a friend. To not be so alone.”

“Never again, darling. Never again, will I let you be alone. It’s me and you, now.” He squeezed you in, another kiss to the top of your head, and you pressed into it, leaving a single kiss to his jaw in return. “Happy Starfall, darling.”

“Happy Starfall, Rhysand.”

[strandsofgold]

For @reallyhatethiswebsite, hope you like it and thank you for the prompt <3 I am so so sorry that this took as long as it did, but I loved this prompt so much that I couldn't physically stop myself from turning it into way more than the short, little ficlet it was supposed to be. Whoops. Prompt: Tav nuts before Raphael does for once 👀

TW: Implied non-con (just to be safe), but I would sooner say very dubious consent because deep down there is a part of Tav that deeply enjoys Raphael's treatment of her Kink tags: Belly bulge, forced orgasms, rough sex, choking (kind of), painful sex, cervix-bumping, inappropriate use of mage hand

A Little Death

It is a sudden thing, her orgasm. It seises her, knocks the wind out of her, thighs shaking as that thin string of restraint snaps as if it was sliced in two by the tip of a claw. It drags her to the highest of highs, even when her muscles burn and her breasts ache, the pleasure overwhelms and drowns any discomfort she may have had.

A gasp, pitiful even to her own ears, spills from her mouth, her head thrown back in ecstasy.

When Raphael stills, so does the world.

Where she once rode him with abandon, his cock lodged deep inside her, his hips raising every now and again to meet her halfway between the bed and her, there is now nothing but quiet and stillness and the unceasing pressure of his fingers digging into the meat of her waist as he holds her still.

And Tav, in turn, does her best to quiet down and subdue her body as well, but she cannot—she truly cannot—her heart thundering away in her chest and cunt clenching around him as if trying to force him to meet his end just as soon as her. Sweat drips down the sides of her face. Her rapid breathing only intensifies when she looks down at him, her eyes meeting the amber brown of his iris.

He looks decadent in his human form, just as he always does. But there is a storm brewing in the fine lines of his face. A twitch at the corner of his eyes. The beginning of furrow by his brows.

"I—" She tries, she desperately tries to make it up to him—"I am sorry."

When that garners her no reaction other than the flare of his nostrils, she attempts to move once again, attempts to roll her hips—attempts to emulate Haarlep who would simply keep going in order to satisfy their master and distract him from the slight made against him.

But she is not Haarlep.

Raphael tuts, lighthearted almost, as the corners of his mouth stretch upwards. But his smile is all teeth, a violent kind of glee in his eyes as his grip on her waist tightens, finely trimmed, human nails digging into her skin. Thankfully, they are not sharp enough to draw blood.

He only ever makes her blood in his true form.

"So insatiable, little mouse," is all he says before Tav's world spins on its axis.

In the span of a second, she is beneath him, hands pinned on each side of her head. He is still inside her, his cock twitching every now and again—it betrays his interest, his desire.

Raphael looks at her, all smug and... calm. Too calm. His tail lazily swishes to and fro behind him. It is frightening.

As he is now, Raphael is unpredictable.

When they fuck—and it is fucking, they are not lovers, no matter how often Raphael refers to himself as such—it is always about his pleasure, first and foremost. He 'indulges' her, as he likes to say. And there are rules to these indulgences; some have been explicitly stated—'Do not touch my wings, you ingrate!'—whereas others have been implicit, recognisable only through their repeated pattern.

This is one of the implicit ones: Raphael always comes first.

Always. No exceptions.

Tav retreats—as much as she can—presses herself into the bed as if it will swallow her if she merely sinks far enough down. It is the closest thing to escape she will have tonight.

And Raphael, the bastard, laughs at her, that rich, smooth laughter that reminds her of fine brandy ringing in her ears.

"Why so gloomy, oh apple of my eye?" he asks her—mocks her, really, head tilted and eyes widened in the closest thing to innocence a devil like him can muster, feigned as it is. "I am nothing if not a magnanimous lover."

Tav is not so naive as to not see the threat for what it is.

Still, the wall of smoke and fire and magic that consumes him as his human glamour falls apart makes you gasp all the same. The flames lick at her skin, fine kisses of warmth a distraction only for so long. Because with the loss of his human figure makes way for his true one. His devil form.

And with the change in appearance—fine, olive skin making way for red, leathery ones—comes a change in size.

He forces her open, her walls stretching to accomodate him, the rim of her already sore cunt aching at his size. He swells and expands until she is on the brink of tears, the skin on the bottom of her belly stretched taut around the bulge that has formed there.

He is no longer fully inside her.

He is barely halfway inside her.

But she is full. Gods, is she full.

She hiccups, squirms beneath his hands, the his now clawed fingers digging into her wrists till it hurts.

"You want your little death?" He leans down, breathes deep as he presses his nose against hers, mouth hovering above her parted lips and whispers, low and venemous, "I will give it to you."

.......................

The violent, rhythmic sound of skin slapping against skin is the only thing tethering Tav to reality. That, and the all-consuming, mind-numbing pain and torment that wracks her body at every point of Raphael's movement.

He pounds her into the floor—had her on all fours until her arms gave out—one large hand crushed agains the back of her head where it forces her face into the floor, the other possessively cradling her abdomen where it presses against the bulge that disappears and reappears with each of his sharp thrusts.

It is unending. The pain. The brutality with which he takes her.

She has long stopped fighting to flee.

When she tried to escape after the first dozen orgasms, rolled out of the bed, sore and bruised and desperate to not succumb to yet another forced orgasm, scurrying across the floor on hands and knees, Raphael merely looked on in dull amusement—leisurely commented that, If you wish to be taken on the floor on all fours like a filthy animal, you need only ask, little mouse.

Now she lies still, limp and defeated in his grip, nothing but pathetic little twitches of her hips, vain attempts at evading the mage hand whose sole purpose is to make sure her clit is forever stimulated that force her over the edge again and again and again. Even as Raphael violates her thoroughly and fully, his cock spearing through her, carving out her insides to a point where she feels her organs may have turned to mush.

Again and again and again his cock bumps against her cervix, and the stab of pain that comes with it every time tells her that she is as battered and bruised on the inside as she is on the outside. Every push and pull of his hips has puddles of his hot come spilling out of her. Raphael seems unbothered by the mess, merely continues to fuck his remaining spent into her, along with more every now and again when he too reaches a peak.

Her vision is hazy. Her lungs burn, spots of black flickering in and out of her vision. She can barely breathe.

The pressure on the back of her head eases, but only for a moment, and Tav gasps for precious air as Raphael wraps his fist in her hair and drags her head up—forces her into an even deeper arch, forces her ass to press impossibly closer to his scorching skin, his cock impossibly deeper inside her.

She cries and cries and cries, her tears the only cooling reprieve in the blistering heat that consumes her entire being.

Again, she is forced over the edge, her orgasm burning through her so violently she nearly passes out, thighs trembling from exertion, her poor, abused cunt twitching around him. The drool that has dried on her chin gets replaced with new spit as the gurgles and chokes on her tongue, eyes rolling to the back of her head.

She gets no respite. No mercy.

If anything, the mage hand rubs harder at her clit, pinches and twists to make it hurt that much more as Raphael yanks her even further backwards to a point where her back is nearly against his chest.

Shamefully, she knows she would not have it any other way.