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finelinefae · 9 months ago

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the game [tennisplayer!harry x tennisplayer!y/n]

synopsis: y/n's desperate to play tennis and who better to coach her than her rival

word count: 6.7k

contains: enemies to lovers, set at a boarding school, jealous h, slow burn, angst, tennis rivals

a/n: this is the very first part of a new series that i am soooooo beyond excited to be writing !! it will most likely have 4/5 parts <333 enjoy !!!

. . .

Crestwood Academy was a prestigious boarding school with a mission to cultivate excellence in its students, many of whom went on to achieve great success in their respective fields. Nestled amidst rolling hills and lush greenery, it welcomed only the most accomplished families into its esteemed halls.

Y/N had attended Crestwood Academy since she was five, thanks to her father, who owned a country club and could afford the tuition. Her parents, strict and focused on success, were determined to give her the best education possible so that she could be the very best. Her face was always buried in a book or spending her days in the library, right up until the very last minute of its opening hours.

It was her final year at Crestwood Academy before graduation. Y/N had been set on passing all of her exams at the top of her class so had been working extra hard. She studied English, maths, all three sciences, Latin, French and History as well as tennis.

Y/N's parents had always urged her to pursue a career in the top industries. Despite her efforts to feign interest in that direction, her heart had always belonged to tennis ever since she first took up the sport at Crestwood.

She had competed plenty, winning all the academy trophies and medals. Her parents would visit whenever she competed in finals and congratulated her on winning but saw it as nothing but a hobby to participate in when she wasn’t studying.

However, Y/N couldn’t deny herself the rush of playing knowing she’d have to part with the sport once she graduated. The career path of becoming a doctor was already laid out for her by her parents but she felt destined to follow a different path.

Despite the fact she had applied to dozens of schools to study medicine, she still had one more option that had nothing to do with science at all.

Every year, the academies hosted their own version of a grand slam in which the winning player received a scholarship and three years' worth of training from one of the top tennis academies in the world. Y/N longed to be at the top with the greats and she knew that this competition was the only way she could get there.

For the most part, Y/N had been self-taught. She watched videos online and took notes from the Wimbledon matches she’d see on the television. Crestwood only had one sports coach who focused most of their time on the football team so if she was going to win the scholarship, she needed the very best.

She sat on the bleachers, her book open in front of her, but her attention was drawn to the man on the court. The player’s movements were fluid and powerful, each action deliberate and precise. Yet, it was another man who held her gaze—a figure with an impassive expression, focused solely on his player.

When the match was over, Y/N slammed her book shut and walked towards the court after the players shook hands. Her eyes looked down at the limp in his step as he walked towards the cooler to grab a water bottle.

It had been a while since she had last seen him. She remembered the proud look on his parent’s faces when he was pulled out of Crestwood eighteen months ago and went on to win a grand slam in Australia. She could still feel the intense jealousy that filled her as she watched the match on television whilst studying for her chemistry test that he was also supposed to sit had he stayed.

Now he was here, back to his roots and maybe it had been fate because what she was about to ask him would determine her own path in the tennis career she longed for.

His hair was slightly longer now, his brunette, touseled curls were swept to the side in a loose, dishevelled manner. He wore sunglasses to cover his eyes from the sunlight and a navy tracksuit paired with white vans.

Seeing him brought back the once competitive emotions she had whenever she’d see him strut about the courts every lunchtime but she’d have to suppress those emotions, especially for what she was about to ask him.

“Excuse me, Harry?” Y/N called out.

He took a water bottle from the cooler and flicked off the cap before holding it to his lips and gulping it down. Y/N waited, crossing her arms as she did. “I’ve been waiting for you to show up.” Was the first thing he said.

Y/N didn’t know what to say. It was unexpected to know that he had been waiting to see her, “I didn’t know you were part of the furniture on these courts,” He smirks and Y/N’s jaw ticks. “And you still sit in the exact same spot on those bleachers, to what? Admire me?”

Y/N bristled at Harry's cocky remark, her irritation bubbling to the surface. "Hardly," she retorted, her tone sharp. "I have better things to do than waste my time watching you play."

Harry chuckled, his smirk widening as he leaned against the cooler. "Is that so? Then what brings you here?" he asked, his tone laced with curiosity. “Come to get an autograph?”

Y/N squared her shoulders, determined not to let his arrogance get under her skin. "I was actually hoping to talk to you about something," she replied, her voice steady despite the nerves fluttering in her stomach.

Harry raised an eyebrow, his interest piqued. "Oh? And what might that be?" he inquired, his gaze piercing as he studied her intently.

Taking a deep breath, Y/N gathered her courage and suppressed her pride, "I want you to coach me," she blurted out, her words hanging in the air between them.

Harry made no effort to hide the surprise on his face but it quickly melted into a cocky smirk, “You want me to coach you? I thought you hated me?”

“I do,” She replies quickly. She’d hated him ever since he had humiliated her in a battle of the sexes tennis tournament when they were young despite the fact she had little chance of winning against him anyway. “But I don’t have to like you to recognise your talent and right now you're the best and only coach I can get if I’m going to win that scholarship,”

Harry’s eyebrows furrowed slightly, “Your parents still want you to study medicine?” Something flickered in his eyes that Y/N couldn’t put her finger on.

Y/N wasn’t going to give him an answer even though it was obvious, “This is the only chance I get to escape it,” She mutters, “I wouldn’t ask unless I was desperate.”

He glanced around before taking a step forward. She was tempted to step back at the same time but she didn’t want to seem intimidated by him so stood her ground. From this proximity, she noticed how much taller he was compared to her - almost an entire foot.

“What’s in it for me?” He asked.

Y/N knew he’d ask which was why she spent so much time figuring out what she could tell him to make it worthwhile. “I know about your injury,” She says and he stills.

“Everyone knows about my injury.” He grumbles.

It had been a spectacle in the world of tennis. The new grand slam winner loses out on his second after a fatal injury at the French Open. Y/N remembered seeing him rolling on the ground, holding onto his leg as paramedics ran onto the court to aid him.

“People think you’re a one-hit wonder since you’re out for the season,” His jaw clenched as she spoke, “But if you coach me and get me to win, I guarantee you’ll be out on the court again - back where you belong,”

“You think an academy league game can get my back onto the court?”

“No, but it's a start and maybe I’ll be competing alongside you the next time you’re playing.”

There was a moment of silence as Harry absorbed her words, his gaze searching hers for any hint of insincerity. Finding none, he let out a heavy sigh, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. "Fine," he relented, his voice tinged with resignation. "You want me to coach you? Prove you’re worth coaching.”

He walked over to the barrel of tennis rackets and picked one up. Y/N narrowed her eyes, remembering the last time they had played against each other and how embarrassed she was afterwards.

“But you’re-”

“One game won’t hurt,” He said before she could finish.

She followed, her steps purposeful as she reached for a racket, flipping it over in her hands as she strode to the other end of the court. Despite being clad in her school uniform—a pleated skirt, white shirt with the school crest, and loafers that threatened to slide off her feet—she was determined to prove herself. She'd show him she was worth his time, that she was a far better tennis player than he gave her credit for.

As they took their positions on opposite ends of the court, the tension between them crackled in the air. Y/N gripped her racket tightly, her focus sharp as she prepared to face off against Harry once again.

The first serve sliced through the air, the sound echoing as the ball hurtled towards Y/N. She moved with fluidly, her muscles tensing as she returned the serve.

Harry's response was swift, his movements confident as he returned the ball with a well-placed shot that left Y/N scrambling to keep up. Even with his injury, he still held the precision of a professional. But she refused to back down, her determination driving her to match him shot for shot, rally after rally.

The game intensified as they traded blows, each point reflecting their skills and determination. Y/N's heart pounded in her chest as she fought to keep pace with Harry, her mind focused solely on the ball. Both Y/N and Harry vocally exerted their energy through grunts and cries as they hit the ball with all their energy.

Despite her efforts, Harry seemed to anticipate her every move. But Y/N refused to be outdone, drawing on every ounce of strength and skill as she fought to gain the upper hand.

As the game progressed, Harry's skill and experience began to overthrow her. His shots were close to perfect and strategic, leaving Y/N struggling to keep up. Despite her determination, she found herself falling behind as Harry continued to dominate the match.

In the end, it was Harry who emerged victorious, his final shot landing just beyond Y/N's reach with a satisfying thud. As the ball bounced out of the court, Y/N knew that she had been outplayed.

She rested her hands on her knees, hunched over as she tried to regain her breath. She couldn’t help but feel disappointed that she’d lost despite the fact she was at a disadvantage anyway.

Harry’s shadow fell over her but she refused to look up just yet. He spoke anyway, “You’ve gotten better since the last time I saw you,” He spoke, holding a cold water bottle in front of her face.

She took it, the plastic crackling under her fingers, “You can just say you’re not going to do it,” She mumbled, unscrewing the cap and taking a swig of water.

“I’ll coach you,” He says, “Meet me here at 6 pm tomorrow.”

Y/N finally looked up, her mouth parted, only to find his back facing her as he walked away from the courts.

. . .

Harry had no idea what he had agreed to in coaching Y/N at tennis.

He sat in his luxurious apartment ten minutes away from Crestwood Academy, surrounded by furniture wrapped in plastic or still in cardboard boxes.

He sat on the couch with his feet resting on the coffee table in front of him and a glass of whiskey in his hand. The TV was playing quietly in front of him but his mind was on the girl he had spent the majority of his life competing with.

She had grown since the last time he had seen her before he graduated and left the country to compete in the Australian Open. Her long, tanned legs were on show beneath the grey school skirt she had been wearing. He couldn’t seem to get the image of the visible muscles in her calves out of his mind as she moved across the court to hit the ball during their impromptu tennis match.

Despite their personal differences, Harry couldn't resist her. There was an undeniable thrill in riling her up, in watching her reactions to the smallest digs. They had once been friends, back when Y/N would trail after him on the playground, eager to understand how to hit a ball with a tennis racket. But as she began competing in school competitions, she quickly learned that beating him was an impossible feat.

He wasn’t surprised to see her watching him on the court today, in fact, it amused him. Whether she liked it or not, he would always look out in the bleachers for her whenever he’d play during his time at the academy. Her reactions were what kept him going, some might even say made him better.

But, he couldn’t deny the fact that he was surprised to see her so brazenly asking him to coach her. He could tell by her reaction that it was killing her inside, to be coached by him when all she’d done was pick apart his technique, but it was clear she was desperate and Harry knew it was because of her parents.

Harry had had his fair dose of strict parentage. When he was told he could no longer play tennis for the season, his parents shipped him straight back to Crestwood to finish his final year since he never actually graduated.

He loathed them for it, barely saying a word to them as they paid the rent in cash for his apartment and left him with boxes to unpack on his own. He knew they were disappointed in him despite the fact the injury was no fault of his own, they could barely look at him as they left, closing the door behind them.

It was embarrassing. How could he have gone from being at the top of his game to the very bottom? Now he was back in the place he had turned his back on, feeling like he was back to square one all over again.

Harry’s thoughts were broken by the sound of his phone ringing. The name of his best friend since he was born lit up the screen.

“What?” Harry answered the call, his train of thought forming a particular level of intolerance in him.

“Hey, is that any way to talk to your best friend?” Mitch replied along with the sound of loud chattering in the background because he always had to be somewhere with someone.

“Sorry,” Harry huffed, “Long day.”

“Already? You’ve not even started classes yet,” Mitch chuckled.

“Don’t remind me,” Harry hadn’t even begun thinking about being back in classrooms and having to put up with kids his age berating him with questions he didn’t want to answer. Tomorrow would be his first day back and he was dreading it.

“C’mon now, don’t be too glum about it, haven’t you missed me?”

“No,” Harry lied.

“I know you well enough now to know when you’re lying.” Mitch laughed down the phone.

A hint of a smile grazed Harry’s lips, "Whatever," he replied, his tone gruff but lacking conviction. Despite his attempt to feign disinterest, a part of him couldn't deny the truth in Mitch's words. There had been many moments he had experienced after leaving school when he missed the company of people his own age. Everyone around him was older than he was and spoke to him as though he was some prized trophy that needed to be handled with caution. He’d spend evenings by the pool by himself, watching the sunset and wishing his friends were there to celebrate his win with him.

"I'll take that as a yes," Mitch teased, “I know the boys will be happy to have y’ back and I can introduce you to Sarah. I think Molly Brown still has a thing for you as well by the way, talks about you all the fuckin’ time.” Harry listened to his friend ramble about all the things he had missed in the last year or so but his mind seemed to travel elsewhere.

His eyes wandered around the room, his ear still pressed to his phone, until they landed on an open box with a picture frame resting on top. He recognized the photo immediately, even without picking it up, because he had kept it hidden in his old dorm desk. In the picture, a group of eight students—four boys and four girls—smiled at the camera, with Harry standing at the back and Y/N right beside him.

. . .

Y/N slammed the door of her locker shut after pulling out her workbooks for her next class. Students bustled down the hallways of Crestwood Academy, wearing their navy blazers and uniform for another week of school.

“Have you seen him yet?” Sarah, Y/N’s best friend, came out of nowhere and stood in front of her.

“Seen who?” Y/N remained indifferent even though she knew who Sarah was referring to.

Everyone had been talking about Harry since she had walked into school from her dorm room this morning. It was the main topic of conversation, everyone’s eyes darting around the hallways to try and find him.

“You know,” Sarah nudged her, “The boy you’ve spent most of your life in a one-sided rivalry with?”

“One-sided? It’s a mutual hatred,” Y/N argued.

Sarah gave her a look before continuing, “I texted Mitch twenty minutes ago but he hasn’t replied. I know I’ve met Harry before but this is the first time I’ll be meeting him as Mitch’s girlfriend and I don’t want it to change anything.”

Y/N’s eyes softened, “Sarah, just because he’s the winner of a grand slam doesn’t make his opinion of you any more important. Whether Harry likes you or not, everyone knows you and Mitch are perfect for each other.”

Y/N remembered the first time her friend had told her she was seeing Mitch. He had taken her out to dinner a few times and Sarah had come back to their shared dorm swooning and unable to stop herself from rambling the rest of the night about how romantic and funny he was.

Y/N had never experienced anything like that in her life, too busy focusing on tennis and academia to find herself in relationships, but she was happy her best friend was happy and that was all that mattered to her.

“I know but he’s important to Mitch. They’ve been best friends since infants and… that’s not all I’m worried about,” Sarah looked at Y/N pointedly.

“What?”

“Now that Mitch and I are together, that means we’ll be spending more time around each other which also means…” Sarah didn’t have to finish her sentence for Y/N to understand what she was trying to get at.

“Oh n-no! No way! Sarah, are you being serious right now?” Y/N whined, “You want me to get along with Harry just because you’re dating his best friend?”

“You don’t have to but it would be nice if you did,” Her voice trailed off at the end, her eyes looking at her pleadingly, “I’m not asking you to be best friends, I’m just asking you not to chew his head off when we’re all in the same room together.”

Y/N wanted to argue and tell her she wouldn’t be able to chew his head off anyway because she needed him to coach her for the scholarship but an arm slid around Sarah’s waist and interrupted their conversation.

Sarah grinned, turning to look up at her boyfriend who was now standing beside her, “Hey babe,” Mitch smiled.

“You’re here,” Sarah craned her neck to kiss his lips, “I texted you forever ago and you never replied.

Mitch scoffed, “It was twenty minutes ago and I didn’t have time to check my phone, too busy dragging this one through the front gates.”

Out of the corner of Y/N's eye, another figure appeared. She didn’t have to look to see who it was, the sudden surge of annoyance within her already gave them away. Her head tilted to the left to look up and see Harry.

He was wearing his school uniform, the same way he always did before he left for Australia. His shirt was untucked, and the top button was undone revealing a gold chain and a white vest underneath, his grey trousers were ironed with not a crinkle in sight and his navy blazer hung casually behind him, hooked by his middle finger.

Y/N’s eyes shifted behind him to find people whispering to each other and groups of girls giggling as they walked past. It was nothing new to see girls getting riled up over him but it had become more intensified now that he had gone abroad and made a name for himself. Despite his injury preventing him from playing, Y/N was certain that even if Harry had lost every game and embarrassed himself on live television, people would still adore him.

“Hey Harry,” Sarah offered a kind smile.

“Hi Sarah, nice to see you again. Glad to know Mitch was in good hands whilst I was away,” Harry clapped his friend on the shoulder before turning to Y/N.

“Only the very best,” Mitch pulled Sarah into his side before motioning to Y/N, “You remember Sarah’s best friend Y/N right?”

“Hmmm, aren’t you the one who lost the Junior tennis competition to me a few years ago?” Harry smirked.

Y/N's jaw clenched, but she managed to force a smile. "I could be, but aren’t you the one who they recorded rolling around on the floor like a big baby at the French Open last year?" Her retort was sharp, aimed directly at Harry.

Harry's eyes narrowed in response, a flicker of annoyance crossing his features. Y/N felt a sense of satisfaction at having gotten such a reaction from him. "Welcome back to Crestwood," she added, her tone dripping with sarcasm.

Mitch and Sarah exchanged weary glances, sensing the tension between Y/N and Harry.

"Quite a welcome. I’ve already been asked to coach someone and I’ve only been back a week," Harry remarked, his gaze still fixed on Y/N, who met his stare with a glare of her own.

"You have?" Mitch frowned, his confusion evident.

"Who?" Sarah asked, equally perplexed.

Harry's eyes remained locked on Y/N, giving them their answer. "You asked him to coach you?" Sarah questioned her confusion mirroring Mitch's.

Y/N shifted uncomfortably under their scrutiny, "Yeah, I did," she admitted reluctantly, her gaze flickering briefly to Harry before returning to Mitch and Sarah.

"Why would you ask him to coach you?" Sarah asked, her brow furrowing in confusion, “You argue all the time,”

Y/N hesitated, “I need to win the scholarship to the tennis academy in London and Harry’s the only person here who knows how to play the game.”

“Glad to know I was the pick of the bunch,” Harry’s voice dripped with sarcasm.

“I thought you were applying to go to UCL?” Sarah frowned.

“I was but you know how much the game means to me and my parents refuse to believe it’s more than just a hobby. This is the only chance I’ll get to prove them wrong and the only option to get me out of studying medicine.” Y/N explained.

Sarah’s eyes softened, she too was no stranger to how strict Y/N’s parents could be. “Which is why she needs me,” Y/N felt the weight of his arm rest across her shoulders, “Right, love?”

Y/N spun around to face Harry, eyes sharp, “Don’t call me that,” She hissed, seeing the satisfied grin on his face.

He shrugged, “But I always call you that,”

Ever since they were teenagers, when the rivalry first began, Harry had opted to calling Y/N ‘love’ knowing how much it riled her up. To some, it was a term of endearment but in the world of tennis the word ‘love’ meant one thing.

‘Nil, ‘Zero’, ‘Loser’.

Y/N hated the way he spoke it too - accentuating each letter of the word to drag it out for as long as he could just to annoy her further.

She stepped forward, “Call me that one more time,” She threatened.

“Or what?” He tilted his head to the side.

“Guys seriously, break it up,” Sarah intervened, “Aren’t you supposed to be getting along if you’re going to be spending more time together.”

Y/N hated the thought of it but knew she was right. If she wanted Harry to coach her, she couldn’t go around screwing things up by arguing with him. If he was going to coach her at the sport, she’d have to coach herself in controlling her attitude around him.

“C’mon Sarah, let’s go to class,” Y/N hooked arms with her best friend, wanting to get as far away from him as possible.

“Oh okay, bye Mitch.” Sarah kissed her boyfriend before she was dragged down the hallway in a hurry.

Harry watched as Y/N practically sprinted down the hallway with Sarah in tow. He felt the need to call out of her for one last dig just so she would turn around and he’d see her face before she rounded the corner, “See you on the courts, love.” He called down to her.

As he had hoped, Y/N’s head whipped around to glare at him along with her middle finger, “Asshole!” She called back.

Harry chuckled to himself, “That face,” he murmured.

Mitch placed a hand on Harry’s shoulder, “You’ve got it in for yourself with that one, lad.” Mitch said.

“Tell me about it,” Harry replied, his eyes still on the place he’d last seen Y/N.

Maybe returning to Crestwood wouldn’t be so bad after all.

. . .

With Harry back, Y/N had suspected the day would be a drag with everyone constantly bringing him up in every conversation, but the first half of the day had gone well. Y/N was easily used to her classes by now and was still top of the class in all of them.

During lunch period, Y/N always sat with Sarah in the library where they’d catch up on what they missed out on each other’s lives or study during exam season. It was nice to have some reprieve during the school hours and whenever she was with Sarah, Y/N could talk for hours and hours.

Now that Sarah was dating Mitch, Y/N and Sarah would spend their lunch with his friends in the lunch hall. Y/N didn’t mind it so much having grown used to being around Mitch’s friends despite their loud and boisterous personalities.

However, today she was dreading the fact that now her lunchtimes would also include being around the person she wanted to spend as little amount of time with as possible.

“Can’t we just eat in the library today? Please?” Y/N pulled on the sleeve of her best friend's blazer as she begged her to turn back in the direction of the library. She could already picture Harry’s annoying smirk the closer they got to the entrance of the lunch hall.

“Y/N you’re being dramatic. It’s just an hour, I’m sure you can survive being around him that long.” Sarah continued to tug her down the hallway.

“Sarah I already have to spend enough time as it is,” Now that she asked him to be her coach. The more the day went by the more she was starting to regret her decision.

Sarah spun on her heel, “Think of this as practice then,” Her eyes looked past Y/N’s shoulder, “Look, there they are,” She moved past her and beelined towards their table where Y/N saw Mitch, Jake and Adam already sitting along with that head of brunette curls that Y/N just wanted to tear out every time she saw him.

Sighing, she followed Sarah and approached the table responding to everyone’s friendly greetings until she got to Harry, “You’re in my seat,” She spoke after realising all the seats were taken.

Harry didn’t bother to look around, that stupid grin plastered to his face when he looked up at her, “Am I?”

Y/N gritted her teeth, “Yes,”

“Hmm,” He swivelled around to look at the back of the chair, “I don’t see your name anywhere.”

A wave of chuckles rippled around the table but Y/N had yet to find the amusement in it. “She does always sit there, H.” Mitch chuckles, “Just grab another chair from a different table.”

Harry leant back against the seat and crossed one leg over his thigh, “But I quite like this seat.”

“I’m not moving until you get out of my seat,” Y/N crossed her arms, refusing to give in to him.

“Well you’re going to be stood up for a long time and y’ need those legs for later,” Harry smirked, “Or you could just sit here,” He unfolded his legs and motioned towards his lap, “Still your seat.”

Y/N’s jaw clenched but before she could respond, Adam chuckled and stood up, “Here,” He picked another chair up from an empty table and set it down next to him, “Y’ can sit here Y/N.”

She was tempted to refuse and continue to nag Harry for the rest of lunch but decided against it, not wanting to waste her energy on him. Her eyes softened at Adam’s kindness, “Thanks, Adam.” She sat beside him.

Harry’s smirk seemed to falter when Y/N sat down, watching as Adam looked at Y/N even as she turned to face the others.

“Is that Molly Brown looking at y’ again Harry?” Jake, who Y/N considered the loudest one of Mitch’s friends, leant over the table to speak lowly to Harry even though it was impossible for him to ever be so quiet.

Harry forced himself to look away from Adam before he burnt holes into him. “She’s been after him since fifth year,” Mitch chuckled.

“Y’ think you’ll let her have it this year, H?” Jake takes a spoonful of his lunch and swallows it down.

“Have what?” Sarah frowned, confused.

“Nothing you need to know about, babe,” Mitch replies, opening her waterbottle for her after she silently handed it to him.

“I’ve never been interested in Molly,” Harry quickly replies but his ears prick when he hears Y/N laughing quietly with Adam.

“Mind if I take my chances then?” Jake asks, “I’ve always wanted to date a cheerleader,”

“Yeah, yeah, whatever,” Harry shakes him off, “What about you Adam?” He gets the attention from both Y/N and Adam as they look up, “Don’t you have a thing for Molly?”

Adam furrows his brows, “Molly Brown? Maybe in like third year,” He chuckles, “I’m not interested in anyone at the moment.”

Harry wants to laugh in his face, “Y’ sure about that?”

Adam frowns but Y/N quickly interrupts them, “People are allowed to have other interests you know.”

Harry feels that rush of excitement when she speaks run through his body, “Is this a touchy subject for you?”

Y/N scowls, “No, I’m just saying Adam doesn’t need to be interested in girl’s all the time.”

“Well maybe Adam can speak for himself,” Harry quips.

“Lord save me,” Jake mumbles and Sarah laughs.

“Well what about you? Have you managed to sink your fangs into anyone?”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Y/N gapes, “I’ve dated plenty of people,”

The image unsettles Harry but he takes the opportunity to tease Y/N further. "Plenty of people, huh?" he echoes.

Y/N's cheeks flush slightly, "I mean... well, not plenty, but a few," she stammers.

But Harry doesn't let up, "Oh, really?" he presses, "Care to share? I'm sure we'd all love to hear about the few men who you’ve tempted."

Y/N shoots him a glare, knowing full well that Harry was onto her. "I... uh, well," she stumbles over her words, searching for a way to change the subject.

But before she can respond, Adam jumps in. "Come on, Harry, give her a break," he glowers.

“Yeah, Y/N’s just waiting for the right guy and there’s nothing wrong with that,” Sarah pipes in, always one to have her best friend’s back.

Harry raises an eyebrow, his gaze flickering between Y/N and Adam before settling on Y/N, who shifts uncomfortably. Sensing the tension, Mitch swiftly changes the subject to something else.

. . .

After lunch, Y/N made her way to her next class with Adam walking alongside her. Out of all of Mitch’s friends, she got on the most with Adam to the point where Sarah was constantly pestering her over considering a date with him but Y/N didn’t see him as any more than a good friend. He was quiet and kept to himself for the most part, excelling in the arts and playing bass guitar in a band on weekends. Y/N enjoyed the calmness he brought to the group especially with the others being so loud all the time.

“What do you think?” Adam asked, holding the strap of his backpack in one hand as it hung over his right shoulder.

“What do I think about what?” Y/N frowned.

“You know, Harry being back. I know you two didn’t always get along,” He explained.

Y/N scoffed, “If it weren’t for the fact he’s coaching me for the Academy Slam, I would be praying to whatever God that’d listen to send him back to Australia,” Which was also the furthest possible country he could be away from her.

Adam chuckled, “He told us earlier he’d be coaching you,”

Y/N scowled, “I bet he couldn’t get enough of it,”

“Actually he seemed pretty happy about it. We haven’t seen him that happy since he got back from Australia.”

“Really? Maybe that injury did something to his head,”

“What makes you hate him so much anyway?” Adam asked.

Y/N sighed. It was a question she heard often but never had a solid answer for. She couldn't quite explain why she disliked Harry so much. Maybe it was because he had things she wanted, and jealousy often turned into hatred. But there was something more, something she couldn't quite pin down.

Despite her dislike, Y/N went to all of Harry's matches, and she watched them on TV too. Even when she tried to stay in her room, her legs seemed to move on their own, taking her to the courts to watch him play. She hated that part of her rooted for him, and she couldn't figure out why. Maybe it was because Harry had been the first person to teach her how to play and she felt some sense of loyalty to that but she had no perfect answer even though she wished for one.

“His face annoys me,” Y/N says.

“That’s it?” Adam snickers.

“I don’t know,” Y/N shrugs, “We’ve always had this rivalry that stemmed out of nowhere but I can’t even remember how it started.”

“You don’t have feelings for him do you?” The question came out of nowhere and took Y/N completely off-guard.

"What? No!" Y/N's response came out a little too quickly, and she hoped her cheeks hadn't betrayed her by turning red.

Adam shrugged. "Just making sure," he said casually. "You know, some people get them mixed up—love and hate."

Y/N furrowed her brow, genuinely puzzled. "How is that even possible?"

"Well, they're both intense emotions, aren't they?" He mused. "And sometimes, when you feel strongly about someone, whether it's love or hate, it can blur the lines between the two."

Y/N pondered his words, a sense of unease settling in her stomach, "No way," she replied firmly, shaking her head. "I may not like him, but there's definitely no love there."

Adam chuckled, sensing her defensiveness. "Alright, that’s good," he said with a grin.

Y/N felt a hint of a smile on her lips, “What does that mean? That’s good?”

Adam shrugged, still smiling, “Jus’ saying,” He spoke and Y/N laughed.

Her gaze flicked from Adam's to Harry, who stood in the hallway with Molly Brown, her brunette waves tied up in the perfect, slicked back ponytail. Hoping to slip by unnoticed, she quickened her pace, but it was too late. Harry's eyes locked onto hers, then shifted to Adam. She caught the subtle twitch of his jaw before he pushed off the wall, ignoring Molly, and strode toward them.

Adam must not have noticed Harry coming towards them because he quickly bid goodbye so he could rush to his literature class. Y/N picked up her pace but Harry was already by her side, “Do you like him?” Harry asked.

“Who Adam? Well let’s see, he’s nice and smart and doesn’t feel the need to open his mouth every five seconds unlike some people I know, so yeah I do like him.”

Harry scoffed, “He’s a little boring don’t you think?”

Y/N rolled her eyes at Harry's comment, a retort already forming on her lips. "Nice of you to say that about your own best friend," she quipped. "Makes me wonder what you say about me."

Before she could say anything more, she gasped in surprise as Harry tugged on her hand and swiftly spun her around until her back was against the row of lockers. Her heart raced as he stepped forward, blocking her in, and dipped his head closer to hers.

"I think we need some ground rules for this whole coaching thing," Harry murmured, his voice low. "If you're planning on winning, I recommend using your time more wisely instead of wasting it on nice boys."

Y/N's breath caught in her throat as she processed his words. "Is that a rule or are you asking me not to date anyone?" she managed to ask, her voice barely above a whisper.

"Both," Harry replied, his tone unwavering.

Her mind raced, unsure how to respond, "What about you then?" she countered.

"Is that a personal request?" Harry's smirk widened, his gaze locking onto hers. "Because I'm the coach, and I set the ground rules so anything you ask me to do is because you want me to do it."

Y/N's heart pounded louder in her ears as Harry's proximity sent heat coursing through her, "It's only fair," she replied, her voice barely audible.

Harry chuckled softly. "Fine, if it makes you happy. But I’m not interested in dating nice girls or boys anyway," he remarked with a smirk.

Y/N swallowed, her curiosity piqued. "What are you interested in?"

He smirked, "The game," he replied cryptically.

With that, he moved away from her, his eyes lingering on her lips for a moment before he turned and walked down the hallway, “See you tonight, love.” He called back.

As the sound of his footsteps faded, Y/N stood there, stunned and unable to move. She was grateful that no one had witnessed the exchange as she pulled out her compact, trying to compose herself and hide the flush of embarrassment that coloured her cheeks.

As she hurried to class, already five minutes late, Y/N couldn't shake the intensity of her encounter with Harry. Sitting by the window, her mind wandered as the teacher lectured the class, her gaze drifting to the courts outside where she'd soon be training with him this evening.

This coach-student dynamic had unlocked a new territory between them, something unpredictable that Y/N had no choice but to delve into for the months ahead.

Yet, it was her only choice. Harry was the only way she could win and she’d push through whatever feelings she had to get what she wanted.

She’d play the game, just as he wanted her to.

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dollyhao · 1 year ago

Text

succubus!reader x nerdy!ellie

summary: ellie is desperate to lose her virginity that has been looming over her her whole college career.

toni’s note: i made it guys! i promised this back in october and it’s the end of january… but it’s here.

cw: this is pure smut, no plot at all lol. 1.8k words

༊*·˚

ellie has not a single regret about what she’s about to do. ellie is in college and is still a virgin, at this point she didn’t think she’d ever lose her virginity. until one of her friends joked that she should summon a sex demon, that it was ‘the only way she’d get laid’. it wasn’t meant to be taken seriously, but desperation makes people do crazy things.

she read in an old book she found in the library about one in particular, the book had a picture of you drawn in and ellie thought you were absolutely gorgeous and perfect for her. what was the worst that could happen?

ellie lights the candles around the circle she made on her bedroom floor. she chanted your name 5 times like the book told her, then after 20 seconds the candles all blew out and a gust of purple smoke floats in the air. you pop out the smoke looking even more perfect than the book describes.

“who dares summons me?” you say in this slow sensual voice that ellie feels course through her body. you look around the room you were summoned in before your eyes rest on a short girl with black rimmed glasses on her face. ellie is looking at you with those pretty green puppy eyes, mouthed formed into an o shape.

“a girl? well thats new,” you walk closer to ellie sizing her up. “your cute… tell me what you want from me.” “i-i,” ellie is literally speechless. shes staring up at you, the lady demon whos probably gonna take her virginity. you have long horns on your head and a cute skinny tail, but the best part is that your completely naked. breast out in the open, nipples standing at attention, nothing covering your cunt and it’s just begging for ellie to drop to her knees to taste you.

“did you call me here to waste my time?” you ask her putting your hands on your hips with a quirked brow. “no no! i-i want you to take my virginity.” ellie says playing with her fingers. you hum, “ok ill do it. but you have to sign a contract-” “yes yes! anything!” you spawn a paper out of thin air, “dont you wanna know what your agreeing to?” but by the time you finish your sentence ellie has already signed the paper.

after she is done signing, the paper disappears. “i wanna let you know i-i’ve never done this before. well i almost did in my fourth year of highschool but that was a missed opportunity-“ ellie’s nervous rambling was cut off by you running your hands over her shoulders and ripping her shirt open exposing a blue sports bra underneath. ellie gapes at you, suprised at the sudden intrusion. you push the ripped shirt off her shoulders. “do you wanna touch me?” you say voice softening seeing how nervous the poor girl is.

she nods vigorously trailing her hands up your tummy to your breast. “you can touch me however you want.” you say smirking at her. ellie feels like she can hear your voice inside her head, a slow sensual voice with a rasp that can only be described as wild and sexy. she feels a rush of arousal pulse through her as she pushes you to lay on her bed. your eyebrows shot up, you feel her start to kiss down your stomach swirling her tongue around your navel before her head dips between your legs.

you buck slightly when you feel her inexperienced tongue flicking all around your cunt. she takes your clit into her mouth rolling and flicking her tongue all around it (like they do in the videos she watched before the summoning). you can feel her breathing heavy against you. she pushes two experimental fingers into you feeling how wet and tight you were. you taste sweet like honey and something else addictive that ellie can’t name, ellie suspects its part of your demon powers.

you grab her hair squeezing your legs around her head trying to contain your moans, no human has ever made you feel so good. you might just… like this girl. she’s cute and gentle. and she looks at you like your aphrodite instead of a sex demon.

you feel yourself about to cum when you push her head from between your thighs. ellie is looking at you, chin covered in your juices looking pussy drunk with her glasses fogged up. “are you ok?” she asked you, looking genuinely concerned. you want to coo at her but instead you flip her over taking place in between her legs this time. you peer up at her with this look that looks like you want to devour her. you pull down her sweat pants and underwear licking your lips at her slick pussy.

you give her clit a sweet kiss before using your thumb to rub circles on it. ellies moans out loud when she feels your abnormally long tongue enter her. your tongue is reaching places her fingers couldnt possibly reach. she chants you name which only encourages you to move your thumb faster on her clit. ellie grabs your horns and pull before locking her ankles together keeping you still as she grinded on your tongue feeling the knot in her stomach ready to explode. you let out a groan as ellie tugs on your horns. “im so close.” she says before her body goes rigid.

you pull away from ellie, swallowing her essence, seeming to have had an energy boost. “is there anything else you wanna try?” you say rubbing up and down her legs. she nods getting off the bed grabbing a box from under it. in the box are sex toys but ellie pulls out a girthy purple strap. “oh,” you say eyes widening, “you wanna use that on me?” you ask with that same sensual tone from the beginning. “yes.. please”

she puts the strap on before she feels you push her down on the bed straddling her. you hover over her dick grabbing it and running it up and down your slick cunt. “you want me to fuck you?” you say placing a hand on her chest still hovering over her. ellie nods her head grabbing your hips panting in anticipation, “yes please…” “ask nicely,” you say leaning down licking and biting her ear. “please fuck me. please.” ellie says bucking her hips. the tip of her dick pushes into you, you moan sitting completely on ellie’s cock.

you are bouncing and riding with no sign of slowing down. ellie is running her hands over your body, transfixed at the way your breast bounce as you ride her. when she sits up, she wraps her arms around your waist, holding you close to her as she kisses your neck and chest leaving marks.

you grab ellie’s face, tilting her head to the side so you can have access to her neck. you use your tongue to lick and suck marks into her neck until you get a little too excited and nick her neck drawing blood. ellie let’s out a groan followed by a guttural moan, completely dazed. you lick at her neck getting all the blood up before humming and planting a kiss on the mark.

ellie is gripping your ass meeting your thrust with her own desperate ones. “are you close?” ellie asked desperately, leaning to kiss you again. “very.” you coo out, kissing her using that long muscle of yours, twirling your tongue around hers.

you let go and ellie is staring in awe at the beautiful look you made while cumming. she lays back on the bed, exhausted and satisfied. when she feels your very sharp nails trail up her stomach and latch at her sports bra causing it to rip as if it was being cut by scissors. “more.” you whisper with a wide grin.

“what?” ellie asked wide eyed. “i want more. i think im going to keep you.” you whisper in her ear.

༊*·˚

I, Ellie Williams, am allowing succubus y/n to take on a human form and co habitat with me. I will fulfill her needs of sex so that she may stay by my side and use me for a long as she wills.

signed: ellie williams

#wlw #lesbian #ellie williams #the last of us #ellie williams x reader #ellie williams smut #loser ellie #ellie williams tlou2 #ellie x fem reader #ellie x reader

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urhoneycombwitch · 1 year ago

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I know what they call you.

Eddie Munson x shy!Reader You’re a little lost in your head. Eddie wants to find you.

foreword: The healing properties of good head <333 Anyways I labeled this R “shy” but she’s more… introverted? Reserved? this one goes out to the weird and off-putting girlies who have a lot to say but are kinda quiet instead. Timeline may be a bit wibbly but designed it to be early 4th-season era, with R (early 20s) having played an undetermined part in the various Upside Down battles from seasons previous. Loosely based on this anon every1 say thank you anon!

cw: alcohol/weed used as a social crutch, R is hassled by a guy at a party (but her boys back her up), brief vomit mention, implied bad home life for R, light SH by way of tight grip, PTSD, R has breasts+V, praise kink, oral (R receiving), one (1) spank, multiple orgasms (R), soft dom!eddie, overstim, coming in pants (E)

wc: 11k

___

It’s spring break, 1986, and you’re cursing the name of your so-called “best friend” Robin Buckley.

You didn’t even want to go to this stupid kegger in the first place, arguing with her the whole ride over from Steve’s backseat.

“Don’t you think it’s totally lame that you’re basically being chaperoned by two gap-year losers?” you’d said, leaning forward to rest your elbows on the console, seatbelt pulling taut across your Rolling Stones tee. “You’re a big girl, Robin, you don’t need Steve and me to babysit you anymore.”

Robin began protesting but Steve interrupted, tapping at your forearms without looking away from the road- “Sit back, wouldja, that’s not safe. And for the record, it’d only be lame if we were, like, thirty and still going to high school kickbacks. Gap-year drinking parties are a rite of passage.”

You’d sat back against your seat with a huff, arms crossed, unconvinced until Robin turned those big pleading eyes your way over the back of her seat. “You wanna talk about lame? Lame is me getting anywhere within a 60-foot radius of Vickie. I am totally hopeless around that absolute beauty.”

She’d twisted in her seat and reached for your hand, and you gave it to her grudgingly (the two of you ignoring another of Steve’s gripe about vehicular safety) as she said, “You’re like, the best wingwoman I’ve ever met. Please come to the party and help me avoid the natural disaster that is me running my mouth.”

Robin wasn’t just being generous- you were a killer third wheel. Especially when alcohol was involved: the walls that you naturally upheld around your introverted demeanor by day turned liquid as whiskey by night, often scoring you major cool points with your friends for things you barely remembered doing the day after.

So you’d relented, and in turn resolved to get as drunk as possible as quickly as possible (in the name of Robin’s aid, of course), but turns out your best friend didn’t even need your help in the first place; within 5 minutes of setting foot in the crammed house party Robin won a spot right next to Vickie on the living room couch, starry-eyed gaze saved only for the redhead that bore no room for your intervention.

Three shots ago, the situation would have struck you as funny, but it’s been a lonely time (what with Steve abandoning you, too, in favor of chatting up some college blonde); drifting from packed room to packed room, sneakers sticking to the floorboards, winding through throngs of sweaty dancing students just to keep on top of your alcohol consumption.

Kind of like hunting in the wild, you muse, leaned against a wall with red solo cup in hand. Flirt with Amy Thacker and her low-cut blouse to access the watering hole (Mystery Punch, green both in color and flavor); let Lenny Baker put his paws on your waist to gain entry to the standing liquor cabinet. The stuff of nature docs.

If this dimly-lit Hawkins party is the savanna, then you are the antelope- grazing on snacks, never staying in one spot for too long, minding your own business and staying way the hell away from the lion’s den (the group of jocks in Hawkins Tigers polos).

Unfortunately, you push off the wall in search of a refill at the same time Lenny Baker decides to sidle up to you, nearly knocking the cup from your grasp when he bends his thick head to shout in your ear above the music.

“Great party, right?” His arms are crossed above his tank of a chest, blocking you from a smooth exit via the kitchen archway.

“If you’re into drunk teens, I guess,” you say back, pointedly, licking a stripe up your wrist from where the punch had sloshed onto your bare arm.

When you look back up Lenny’s still standing there, watching you with a hungry edge that’s starting to make your well-honed antelope-sense tingle. As you not-so-subtly cast your glance around for Steve, Lenny leans in again, close enough to give you a sour whiff of his breath. “I’m legal, if that’s what’s got your panties in a twist. And what’s wrong with having some fun?”

“I’m not into having fun with douchebags who ‘roid away their remaining brain cells to bully my friends,” you retort, flatly. You doubt this guy knows you’re connected to the Hellfire group (de facto sitter, second only to Steve), but the insult seems to land anyways.

Lenny scoffs, going for a low blow to offset the sting of his bruised ego- “If you’re trying to play the part of slut, you were doing a way better job earlier.”

What the meathead hasn’t picked up on yet is your absolute lack of care about him- or anyone else at this stupid fucking party, for that matter. Besides Robin and Steve, obviously, but they’re equally indisposed at the moment. You’re feeling bold enough that you could play dirty: throw the dregs of your drink in his face, make a real scene- but the shots from earlier are hitting you sideways and you’re not entirely confident in your ability to multitask.

So instead, with a wink, you tell him, “At least this slut knows when to quit,” and turn on your heel, abandoning the kitchen escape route for a closer door that leads to the back porch.

You suck in lungfuls of cool night air, trying to clear the fuzz of booze from your vision. When you don’t hear any angry footsteps following in your wake, you sink against the wooden bannister and tip back the last of your drink in one swallow. Maybe Steve doubled back to the car…?

With your empty cup left neatly on the railing, you set off down the couple of steps that separate you from the grass, except the toe of your shoe catches on a hidden groove in the wood, and nothing is within reach to grab onto as you trip and begin to fall.

The stumble should have ended with you facedown in the dirt, but something- someone- solid breaks your downward path, catching the upper half of your body in a sturdy hold even as your legs twist around themselves.

“Whoa, whoa, hey, I gotcha. You okay?”

The voice is instantly familiar, one that you’ve heard ringing out from underneath the drama room door on countless occasions as you’ve waited on your various child wards to wrap up their D&D sessions.

Eddie Munson is holding you in his leather-clad arms, larger than life with that big cloud of hair and doe-eyed gaze matching yours. He helps you stand, properly, dropping his hands once you’re stabilized and taking the warmth of his palms with him.

“You okay?” he asks again, tilting his head, looking at you with fresh concern from under that mop of bangs. “Looks like you had a lot to drink.”

“Thanks, Dad,” you drawl, bravado flooding back in. “Am I really gonna get a fucking lecture on drinking from my local drug dealer?”

Instead of rising to the bait or bristling at your tone, Eddie grins- delighted, wolfish- before letting out a low whistle. “Who coulda guessed: resident Shy Girl has a mouth on her.”

You twist said mouth into your own smile, one that you hope is coy and charming and not dorkily lopsided (because you stopped being able to feel your face after that last drink), and coo, “You thinkin’ about my mouth, Munson?”

He laughs- a full, vibrant sound that lights up the night. There’s a flutter in your ribcage, knocking up a frenzy at the noise, like it wants to get out and at him, but you tamp it down and play it cool.

“You’ve only seen me in the cold, unforgiving light of day,” you continue, as Eddie rifles through his pockets, surfacing with a pack of cigs, eye contact yet to be broken. “My nighttime alter ego is a real riot, all liquored up.”

“Well, I happen to think you’re a riot in the sober light of day, too.” Eddie shrugs a shoulder as he flips the lid of the cigarette box.

You’re unsure if he’s messing with you- he’s gotta be, right? The only meaningful interaction you two have had in the past handful of years has been through the courtesy of the children in your respective care- a few surface-level conversations during carpool pickup, some flirting on his end that you’ve always been too skittish to return.

Well, until now, you guess. Maybe this is a good thing, him seeing you like this- it’ll either scare him away, or you’ll finally make good on the quiet crush you’ve been harboring.

You’re about to speak again when the porch door opens with a bang; you and Eddie swivel at the same time to see Lenny clomping noisily towards the steps, voice booming out over the thrum of bass back inside- “This freak bothering you?”

You look between the metalhead and the jock, eyes wide and mocking as you call back, “No, but you’re starting to!”

“Jesus, talk about poking the bear,” you hear Eddie mutter behind you, but your focus is taken up by the fact that Lenny is tromping down the steps and reaching out to grab your upper arm, his cold and clammy palm taking up a sizeable amount of space.

You can feel that rage, simmering and easily accessed, start to crawl over your skin. You stand your ground in the face of someone much larger than you, sneakers planted firmly, chin tilted in defiance- I’ve killed monsters in alternate dimensions, asswipe. You might’ve scared me back in high school but now I dare you to fuck with me.

Before Eddie can jump to your defense, you’re already going in for the bite, voice dripping with derisiveness. “So glad your right hand found its way off your dick for a change, Len. How about you do me one better and take it far, far away from here?”

Lenny’s face is almost purple with anger as his grip tightens, and you feel Eddie moving in at your back- to do what exactly, hard to say, ‘cuz Lenny’s got about 60 pounds on the lanky DM- but just as fast as the tension has ramped up, it gets diffused with the arrival of one Steve Harrington from around the corner of the house.

He cuts a smooth path through the grass to your other side, Robin’s sweater slung over one arm, twirling his car keys in neat loops around his finger, boasting a casual demeanor that doesn’t match up with the steely look he’s giving Lenny. “You heard the girl, Baker. Time to am-scray.”

Whether it’s the rumors of Steve’s nail bat or the manic look in your eyes or the fact that he’s outnumbered, Lenny’s got plenty of reason now to drop your arm.

Which he does, spitting one last “bitch” at you before hulking off into the night.

The anger in you recedes like a wave. You breathe out a dry laugh, then turn back to the boys, clasping your hands over your heart with faux-dopeyness. “My heroes. How will I ever repay you?”

“Shutting up, for a change, would be a great start,” Steve grouses over the sound of Eddie’s cackles.

“Holy shit. Can’t believe your girl’s feistiness almost landed me in the hospital.” Eddie shakes his head, plucking a cigarette out and sticking it between his plush lips.

“She’s not my girl,” Steve says, even as you wind your arms around his chest from behind, tucking your chin over his shoulder. “She is, unfortunately, my problem.”

“I love when you two talk about me like I’m not here.” You simper at Eddie from your draped position.

He’s watching you with a fondness that feels overly familiar, through the haze of smoke streaming from his nostrils as you pat the chest beneath your hands- “Don’t worry about ol’ Stevie boy. He’s turned into quite the good guard dog after the whole Russian mall takeover last year.”

“Aaaaand that’s enough talking from you,” Steve says firmly, twisting out of your arms and putting his own around your waist. “Say goodbye to your new buddy, we’ve got a Robin to collect.”

As Steve steers you towards the direction of his car you wave at Eddie, a motion that he returns, his rings glinting in the porch light.

“Christ, you really are somethin’ else with some drinks in you,'' Steve fusses, helping you into the backseat, hand shooting up to block the door frame before your head can collide with the metal. “Did you seriously have to bring up the Russians?”

“He probably thought it was a joke, Steve,” you say, exasperated and fighting the twisted middle seatbelt with uncoordinated hands. “You know… those things that you tell people when you wanna get in their pants?”

The crack was aimed at Steve’s recent string of strike-outs in the dating department, but he throws it back at you. “You’re trying to get in Eddie Munson’s pants?”

“No,” you sputter, indignant and feeling suddenly too hot.

Steve knocks your still-struggling hands from the belt, clicking you in himself, before pointing an accusatory finger in your face. “Stay here while I get Robin, and no throwing up in the Beemer.”

He shuts the door, Robin’s sweatshirt hanging from one shoulder while he stalks back into the house.

You let your head fall back against the seat and close your eyes, bright cherry embers of cigarettes between lush-lipped curves dancing behind the dark of your lids.

___

You manage to avoid throwing up in the BMW, saving the worst of it for the downstairs toilet of the Harrington house after Steve drags you and Robin indoors. Once your body is purged of the spirits, you collapse into your usual side of the guest bed, sweaty and exhausted, murmuring an apology to Robin who squeaks at the rocking movement of the mattress. In a few minutes, you’re lulled to sleep by the gentle snores of your best friend.

The morning sun is a very rude awakening, Robin apparently having forgotten to close the blinds before leaving with Steve for their shifts at Family Video. There’s a full glass of water on the bedside table and a few loose Tylenol tablets, the word “DRINK” sprawled on a sticky note in Steve’s handwriting.

You wince, down the meds along with half the water, and start the search for your sneakers.

When you’d signed up to protect a bunch of teens at the end of the world awhile back, it had seemed like a one-time gig. But now, here you were a few years later, loading yourself into your curb-parked junker to willingly cart around the same kids.

While wearing yesterday’s clothes. Even with the sprays of cologne that you’d stolen from Steve’s dresser, you’re pretty sure you’ll be fooling no one.

Evidenced by your first stop in east Hawkins for Dustin Henderson, who clambers into the front seat with a scathing appraisal. “Rough night?”

“You could say that,” you reply, shifting the gear to drive and grimacing at the subsequent squeal of metal that pierces into your left temple. “Learn from my mistakes as a washed-up twenty-something and cool it on the teen drinking, all right?”

“Washed up though you may be,” Dustin intones sagely, digging through his backpack and producing two brown-paper bundles, “you are now one Claudia Henderson Breakfast Sandwich Deluxe richer.”

You take the proffered sandwich gratefully, steering with one hand to peel back the oil-stained paper from the still-warm bread. “God. Is your mom looking to adopt?”

“She’s kind of got the perfect child already, but I’ll keep my ear to the ground for ya,” Dustin says around a mouthful of cheese and egg.

The solid breakfast helps your stomach ease back into a place of normality, but with your next stop adding two more kids to the mix, the rowdy bickering that follows puts that Tylenol to work.

“You’re an idiot,” Max is saying to Lucas over the sound of his indignation in the back seat. “You seriously think Indiana Jones would win against Supergirl? She can shapeshift, and she has heat vision.”

“All I’m saying is, it’s really hard to see a whip coming.” Lucas is stretching the limits of his seatbelt in his earnestness to get his girlfriend on his side.

It doesn’t work- Max rolls her eyes and taps at your shoulder. “Help me out here. His logic is totally shit, right?”

Making a turn onto the main road, you nod your assent without looking back. “I think you should listen to your very smart girlfriend, Lucas.”

Max makes a triumphant “hah”, and Dustin adds fuel to the argument’s fire when he drags in some other comic book character that you’ve never heard of.

You hazard a glance in your rear-view mirror at Max, who’s too busy dishing out an enthusiastic rebuttal to notice. Her auburn braids swing with the movement of the car, and you wonder if they were done by her mother before work or if Max had to rely on her own hair expertise again.

You’ve got a real soft spot for Max, always have. While you both have plenty of cause to bond over shitty home lives, it’s also Max’s brash and defiant attitude that drew you to her. She’s got the bravery you can only hope for, something that you are sure to tell her frequently, even though the compliment is hard for her to take.

You score a parking spot that’s right in front of the arcade, calling after the kids already scrambling out of your car that you want to leave at noon, sharp. They all give some form of distracted acknowledgement before disappearing into the building, so you figure the earliest you'll be getting out of here is noon-thirty.

Not like you have much to do today, anyways, besides bother Steve and Robin at work- since the arcade is conveniently located right next to Family Video, it’s a perfect excuse to wait out the kids’ spring break activities in the company of your nearest and dearest.

You’re cutting a swift track up the sidewalk when you nearly collide with Eddie Munson, for the second time in less than 24 hours.

“Hey!” He beams at you, a wide, easy thing that fits on his face so well, like it was made to be there, boyish dimples digging in. “Long time no see.”

“Yeah,” you agree, trying to smile back but probably landing somewhere in the grimace region as memories of last night float to the forefront of your mind. Small talk. You can do it. Say something. “Um. Were you getting a movie?”

“Nah.” Eddie shakes his head, hooks a thumb at the Family Video doors behind himself. “Keith’s one of my regulars. That guy might actually smoke more weed than me.”

You hum mildly to show you’re still paying attention but really you’re looking at Eddie’s hair, dark curls that shift with each of his movements. His hair isn’t black, like you’ve been led to believe this whole time- with the morning light shining through, highlighting the halo frizz around the edges, it’s actually a deep, chocolatey brown.

Similar to his eyes. Which are trained on you. Because you haven’t talked in a weird amount of time and are now just openly ogling his hair.

Before you can open your mouth to apologize Eddie asks, “You wanna smoke?”

You nod, perhaps a tad too enthusiastically, and then stretch on your tiptoes to peer around Eddie’s frame at the Family Video sign. “Yeah, but we gotta be fast unless you want the Wonder Twins joining us.”

His grin slips into a smirk, and he winks before taking your hand in his. “A quickie, then.”

That fluttering thing in your ribs is back. The metal of Eddie’s rings are cool against your palm as he leads you around the side of the building, dropping your hand once you both are leaned up against the red brick.

Trying not to outright stare again, you watch from the fringes of your vision as Eddie lights up and breathes a cloud of smoke into the air. His nails are painted black- they weren’t last night. An image of him- hunched over a kitchen table, tongue sticking out of those pillowy lips in concentration, a nail polish brush held in his long fingers- flits across your mind.

Eddie holds the cigarette out, filter-side towards you, and you shake your head lightly. “No thanks. I don’t actually smoke, I just wanted to talk to you.”

Eddie glows. Before he gets the wrong idea you start explaining, arms crossing tight over your chest in unconscious defense- “I wanted to talk about last night. And say I’m sorry. I’m not usually so…”

“Badass? Charming? Hot?” Eddie fills in when you trail off, taking in another deep drag of smoke.

Christ. You feel heat rushing from head to toe as you ward off his flattery, nails nipping into your upper arms. “I was gonna say… talkative? I guess? I’m normally not one to pick fights, but Lenny was being a dick and I don’t like the way he treats the kids, or you, for that matter, and I was drunk and mouthy but that’s not an excuse to drag you into it and I’m sorry-”

“Hey, hey.” Eddie’s tone is soothing, low, cutting smoothly into your feverish confession. He reaches out and strokes the back of his knuckle across your hand, tiny half-moons from your nails leaving their impression as you soften your grasp on yourself.

He doesn’t seem to mind that you can’t look anywhere but at your sneakers planted in the gravel as he says, “You have nothing to apologize for, sweetheart. I’m a big boy, I can handle myself when it comes to dickwads like Lenny Baker. And I would say that rescuing fair maidens is part of my job description, but…”

Eddie stubs the half-smoked cigarette out against the brick, flicks it to the ground, and waits until you look up at him again before saying “You don’t seem like you’re in need of any saving.”

That flutter, again, as you hold his eye contact for as long as you can stand it.

The corner of his mouth quirks up. “There she is.”

Mortified, you resist the urge to scream into your hands as you push off from the brick, instead squeezing them into fists at your sides. “Oh-kay. Well. I better head inside or Robin will send out the search party for me.”

Eddie lets you walk past him, but just before you turn the corner he says, “I’m across from the Mayfields in Forest Hills if you ever want some company. Or some good weed.”

Footfalls from his thick-heeled boots recede into the distance, and you take a minute to calm your breathing before pushing your way through the doors of Family Video.

Steve’s stocking a shelf of New Releases at the front of the store, vest-clad torso faced away as the bell above the door signals your entrance. On autopilot he monologues, “Welcome to Family Video, let us know how we can be of service.”

“Aw, I miss the days when you were forced to say Ahoy, mateys!” You tease, Steve turning to give you an irritated frown as you prop your hip against the register counter.

Robin clacks away on the computer, hitting the Enter key a little harder than necessary as she says, “You’re about one mall fire and a bajillion NDA’s too late to ever hear that shit again.”

Keith must be lurking around in the back office, ‘cuz the three of you only refer to last year’s cataclysmic series of events as a “mall fire” when you’re talking in code.

Or if you’re trying to be funny. But based on the dark circles under Robin’s eyes and the harried way Steve’s shoving a hand through his hair as he drifts towards the counter, you surmise that the three of you are very much on the same page this morning with regards to humor and hijinks.

“I didn’t know it was possible to be this hungover,” Robin groans, sinking her hand into a torn-open Skittles bag and popping a handful into her mouth. “Sugar is supposed to help, right?”

You snort, fiddling with a stack of paper brochures as Steve leans against the counter.

“Had any more run-ins with the town riffraff?” He asks, feigning casual, honey-colored eyes roaming around the shop.

“I’m visiting you, aren’t I?” You shoot back, unreasonably defensive.

“Another point for the pretty lady, and Harrington strikes a zero,” Robin totals in her best sports broadcasting voice. “What the hell are you talking about, Steve?”

“Drinky McGee over here was spilling her guts last night to none other than Edward Munson,” Steve replies, looking satisfied when Robin’s eyes bug dramatically.

“Eddie?” Robin hops off the stool, sliding her hands from the other side of the counter to stop your own from ripping the brochures to shreds. “And what, pray tell, were you spilling about with Eddie Muson?”

“Nothing.” You pull your hands from Robin’s, rolling your eyes as if the stakes are low, when in fact the stakes are as tall as the Empire State Building. You can practically hear the wind whistling from this height. “I wasn’t… we barely talked. He was backing me up when some jock started messing with me. That’s all.”

Robin whirls on Steve with animosity- “You left her alone long enough for some meathead to get involved? Jesus, Steve, the hell is wrong with you?”

“Like you shacking up with Vickie after two Tears for Fears tracks is any more responsible!” Steve snaps.

Having spent enough time with both your friends to know their propensity towards petty arguments, you slap a hand against the counter to derail. “Hey! Both of you knock it off. It’s fine, I’m fine, we survived yet another night out on the town unscathed. Let’s just… drop it.”

Steve looks properly chastised, but Robin gets a glint in her eye that confirms she’s not thrown off the scent so easily.

“You know what they call him, right?” she asks you, lowering her raspy voice even further.

“Eddie The Freak Munson,” Steve supplies, but shrinks noticeably when Robin gives him a withering look. “...not that, then?”

“Of course you, Steve The Hair Harrington, would only know him by that name.” Robin shakes her head, disapproving, before turning back to you with a wicked grin. “Word on the street holds Eddie The Munch Munson in very high regard.”

Steve scoffs at this, but you blink, uncomprehending. “Munch, like… he eats a lot of food?”

You feel very suddenly and violently ganged up on when Steve and Robin give you mirrored quizzical looks.

“No, babe,” Robin says, slowly. “Munch as in he eats pussy.”

“Jesus christ.” Heat courses through you as you scan the empty store, even as Steve chuckles and says, “You really are a prude.”

A skittle sails airborne into the side of his temple and he flinches, Robin coming to your aid. “That’s no way to talk to a lady, Steven.”

“I’m so not a prude.” You’re quick to jump to your own defense. “I just… didn’t know what that meant.”

You’d had a boyfriend for 6 months your sophomore year of high school, Ben- nice enough guy, but you’d mostly dated as an excuse to get all your firsts out of the way. Some laid-back hookups have occurred since then- it’s not like you’ve been chaste all these years, for fuck’s sake.

But you certainly wouldn’t give any of those boys a prize-winning nickname for their ability to eat you out.

“It’s all baseless gossip, right?” Steve grabs a nearby wheeled cart and pushes it to the New Releases, resuming his shelf stocking. “I mean, what the hell else are small-townies good for other than trading lies like baseball cards.”

“I dunno,” Robin says, thoughtfully, sucking at her front teeth. “If the token lesbian is hearing about it, then he’s gotta be some sort of sex god.”

Steve’s making a snarky comeback, but you can’t hear him over the whistling in your ears.

You stare blankly out at the parking lot, one hand absently crunching at a brochure, trying really hard to think of anything but those plush lips and all the places you want them.

____

Ever since the events of last year ripped a hole in your found family’s world, you make it a weekly habit to visit Max.

You’re always armed with some excuse- made too much pasta, please take it off my hands and put this tupperware in your fridge; I was on my way to the thrift store and thought I’d stop by, wanna come with and help me pick out some new jeans?- so that it’s harder for Max to deny your company. Slowly, over the last handful of months, by way of secondhand book offerings and slices of leftover pizza, Max has let her guard down enough to let you in.

Even on days like today, when her demeanor suggests active disdain (calling you “mom” with a caustic bite when you ask after her last meal, rolling her eyes when she finds you doing the leftover sink dishes), you don’t take it personal. Her coldness towards little acts of kindness is due to the shitty way other people have failed her. And plus, you’ve put in enough effort to be able to see the warm side of Max Mayfield.

Like now, for instance- she’s giving you a bone-crushing hug on your way out, freshly-braided hair pressed tight to your sternum as you hug her back and sway in the doorway. The hug is quick and fierce, over in seconds as she slips back into practiced indifference

“Stay out of trouble this week and I’ll buy you a pony,” you joke as she pulls away, and the smile that she cracks makes it all worth it.

“Make it a racehorse and you’ve got yourself a deal,” she says, giving you a small wave before closing her front door.

You walk down the dirt path to your parked car, keys in hand. Tonight’s schedule is that of a responsible, sensible young adult- the classified ads on your desk at home need trawling through, and a laundry pile the size of Hoosier Hill waits expectantly on your floor.

But there’s this crawling under your skin, a feeling that tends to flare up every so often, a craving for some sort of release gnawing at the edges. Usually the cure is sad music and masturbation, or some of Steve’s parents’ wine and a cheesy romcom.

Or weed. That tends to work, too.

You’re shoving your keys into the pocket of your denim jacket and walking across the way to Eddie’s trailer before you lose your nerve, scuffing your sneakers against his porch while you knock.

He looks surprised to see you, dark brows raised, leaning into the palm he’s got on the doorframe- “Oh shit. Hi.”

“Hi,” you reply, tracking one foot up the back of your calf, feeling timid under his gaze. “Do you… can I buy some weed?”

When he nods, you duck under his arm and drop to one knee on the carpeted floor to untie your laces.

“Shit, sweetheart, don’t go to all that trouble.” He lets the door close, enveloping you both in the moody lighting of his trailer. There’s a radio playing the local rock station dimly from one of the bedrooms, and as you toe off your shoes you notice a gleaming black guitar leaned upright against the couch.

“Do you play?” You drift over on sock feet to gently brush across the strings, a faint and discordant noise rising and fading underneath your fingertips.

“Yeah.” Eddie’s voice comes from just over your shoulder as he watches your gentle fingers on his prized possession. “I’m in a band, actually. You should come see us play sometime.”

“That’s cool,” you say earnestly. “I remember when you got in trouble for that talent show performance- your band was totally swindled out of first place, if you ask me.”

When he doesn’t respond right away, you hazard a look at him over your shoulder and find him staring at you again, something you’re still not used to, giggling out a little “What?” as his eyes stay on your face.

“You’re pretty, that’s all.” The Dio logo on the front of his tee ripples when he shrugs a shoulder. As if he knew it would embarrass you, he leaves no room for your disagreement, turning away into the kitchen, stretching tall for the metal lunchbox on the top of his fridge.

His shirt lifts with the stretch, a flash of stomach lined with a trail of dark hair that makes you swallow back the gathering saliva in your mouth.

“So, weed,” he’s saying as he pops the lid on the box, shaking out a small bag of fuzzy-looking green clumps. “I can set you up with a couple of days’ worth, if you want.”

“That sounds good,” you reply, mustering courage to drift to Eddie’s side, pretending to assess the baggie he’s holding, committing to memory the way his long fingers deftly pluck apart bud from stem. “That way I can come back and buy more.”

His fingers pause, halfway to the metal grinder nestled in the lunchbox as he says, “You know, you don’t need to use weed as an excuse to come see me. I think we’ve already established I like lookin’ at ya, so you’d be doing me a favor if you came by more. Just to hang out.”

This offer sits between you as he grinds the weed down, then tips a stripe of it neatly across some rolling paper. His dexterous fingers pinch and tuck until a joint takes shape, a small strip of the paper poking out.

He holds it to your lips, brown eyes shimmering with warmth as he waits.

A Stevie Nicks song starts up on the radio, muffled by the trailer walls but crooning through all the same. This close to Eddie for the first time, you can smell him- balmy and spicy, like bergamot and Irish Spring.

You lean into the joint, licking across the paper in one unbroken motion. Your tongue catches on Eddie’s thumb when you pull away, and there’s a salt-warm taste that settles in your mouth.

“Good girl,” he says, in that low-toned voice, and you have to fight to keep your thighs from pressing together in your jeans.

“Wanna smoke here?” Eddie smooths the spit-damp end of the joint down, giving the end a twist. “Good way to test out the merchandise. First one’s free.”

You shake your head as he extends the joint- “I’m definitely paying you, Eddie. And no, I can’t smoke here.” With you being the unspoken addition to that sentence.

“Aw, shucks, sweetheart,” he drawls, devilish grin creeping back in, “You don’t trust me?”

“It’s not you I don’t trust,” you admit, before you can stop yourself.

His brows shoot up again, then waggle, obscenely. “Afraid I’m gonna be too tempting to resist once you’re in the clutches of the Green Dragon?”

Something like that, you think, wryly, but that fluttering is back and you really want to shut it up, so against your sensible, better judgment, you take the joint from Eddie’s hand.

“Got a light?”

You haven’t smoked in over a month, and with your tolerance so low two hits is all it takes to get you sprawled out on the living room floor, arms akimbo like you’re making a carpet snow angel.

Eddie’s a bit more restless in his high, plucking melodious and listless tunes from the couch with his guitar, one foot propped on the coffee table near your head.

Feeling loose-limbed and confident, you stare unabashed up at Eddie. He’d put his hair into a low bun, earlier, and there are a few dark tendrils swinging free around his neck with the rocking movements of his body to the music.

He hits a snag, string buzzing out a dissonant noise. “Can’t focus with you lookin’ at me.”

“Sorry,” you murmur, except you’re not at all. “Now you know how I feel all the time.”

He sticks his tongue out at you, your girlish tittering in answer; you pat the carpet beside your hip. “Come lay with me.”

His body responds easily to your request; Eddie props the guitar back up against the couch and stretches out next to you with a sigh, a wave of that smokey sweet smell coming with him.

Under your weed-filtered view, the popcorn ceiling above you is moving, whorling and undulating in the muted light. You’re feeling gutsy and sure of yourself as you ask aloud, “Do you really think I’m pretty?”

Your head turns so you can meet Eddie’s eyes, which are dancing across your face- cheek to lips to nose back up to eyes- and he doesn’t make a joke, this time, his words coming with weighty seriousness.

“Yeah, I do. I think you’re beautiful. Always have.”

“Always?” Your echo is a soft and seeking thing.

“Yeah, always,” he confirms, simply, as if it’s a fact of life. “Woulda made a move sooner, but you always seemed so…”

“Unapproachable? Aloof? Bitchy?” You fill the gap in his speech with adjectives that have been used to characterize you in the past- usually by boys in the heat of an argument over inconsequential things that have been lost to time, only the labels sticking around.

Eddie gives you a reproachful look. “No. I was gonna say, you seemed like you were always in your own world.”

This throws you for a loop. Neck on a swivel, you look back up at the ceiling as Eddie continues.

“I wanted to get to know you more, but I’ll be the first to admit I was intimidated by you. I mean, you’re way out of my league-” Eddie ignores the sardonic snort you give to this- “-and I just assumed asking you out would've ended with an epic crash and burn.”

The ceiling stops swaying, and you swivel back to hold Eddie’s eyes again, the weed making honesty easy. “I always kinda thought you were beautiful, too.”

Awash with the bravery that only comes from being in an altered state, you keep the momentum that’s aided by Eddie’s soft smile and push up on your elbows.

“I know what they call you.”

Eddie blinks up at you, then slowly, slowly, pushes himself up onto his elbows too. “Yeah?”

It’s a taunt, a dare, an I bet you won’t.

Shows how much he knows. When you’re drunk or stoned, he’d be hard pressed to find a bet you can’t win.

You say it, unwavering. “Eddie The Munch Munson.”

His lips fall open, leaning in towards you as if drawn by a magnet, and you think he’s gonna kiss you until he falls back against the carpet, scrubbing his hands down his face. “Shit. Fuck. We can’t do this.”

“Why not?” You’re a little taken aback, ‘cuz while it’s not an outright rejection, Eddie’s upping the drama, hands pressed into the sockets of his eyes, groaning as he tips into your side.

With his forehead pressed into the curve of your shoulder, he says softly, “I think we’re both a little too stoned to be thinking clearly. And I really, really want you to think clearly when it comes to this.”

“Comes to what?” You’re egging him on now, trailing your fingers up his bicep, coy and angelic.

He rolls away from you, making a pained noise with his face smushed into the carpet before pushing himself off the ground. “You know what, princess. New topic, for the love of god. You hungry?”

You are, actually, and when he extends his hand to help you up, you take it.

Eddie whips up a box of mac and cheese while you sit on a counter nearby, conversation engaging and fluid as he cooks.

Between interjections of ‘scuse me, angel, gotta get into this cabinet and can you take over stirring for a sec? you answer all his questions. You tell him your favorite bands, the states you’d visited on a road trip when you were six, even giving him the whole “my mom’s a nice enough person but we don’t get along” spiel that you don’t usually get to until a third date.

If that’s even what this is. He’s scooping steaming noodles into two bowls, passing you one, leaning up against the counter closest to the one you’re sat on. Your knee rubs against his ribcage as you eat.

In between chews, he lets you ask about himself- his favorite bands, the states he’s never been but wants to travel to someday, the highlights of his golden years with his mom that he misses every day.

There’s a quiet lull, after your bowls are scraped clean and set aside. He helps you off the counter and tells you to pick out a movie; you load The Black Cauldron into the VCR and settle into the couch cushion.

Eddie puts an arm around you, lets you play with his hands for the bulk of the film, running your nails methodically across his palms.

By the last act of the movie, you can feel your high beginning to fade, taking your courage with it; when the credits roll, you’re ready to call it quits and sleep off the hangover in your own bed.

“You sure you’re okay to drive?” Eddie asks, following after you as you tug your sneakers back on in the hall.

“Yeah, Eddie, I’ll be good. Thanks for the weed,” you say, pulling your jacket tight around your frame. “And for the- for everything.”

The smile appears again; the one that cuts deep dimples into his cheeks as he watches you step onto his porch.

When he says your name, you turn, keys in hand- “Yeah?”

Leaning into the doorframe like he had earlier, he cants his head, streetlight a warm glow across his cheeks. “You wanna know where I got my nickname, you come back in a few days. Sleep on it tonight.” And then he closes the door.

___

So, technically, he told you to come back in a few days, and showing up less than 24 hours later has to hint at being some sort of desperate.

Which, fuck it, you kinda are, at this point. Frankly it’s a miracle you’ve lasted this long what with the whole being plagued with visions of Eddie Munson’s hands and lips and hair and that stupid fucking nickname every waking and dreaming hour you’ve spent apart.

While you can appreciate the honorable nature of Eddie asking you to make a clear-headed decision, you’re wishing for a hundred things to take the edge off as you change out of the PJ’s you’ve been moping in all day.

Black tights stretch over your calves as you think of the whiskey you mom keeps hidden in the downstairs cabinet; denim miniskirt smoothed over your hips as you long for a deep hit of weed; hands shakily plucking your black tanktop into place as the urge to be anything but sober gets swallowed down.

You make the ten minute drive to Forest Hills in silence (relative to the weird engine noises your hunk of metal car decides to make), wracking your brain for silver-tongued excuses but instead drawing blank after blank.

By the time you’re rolling to a stop in front of Eddie’s trailer, you still have no idea what you’re gonna say to him- only that something needs to be said. Max is at the Sinclair’s for the night, one less person to worry about witnessing you slamming your car door shut and walking right up to Eddie on his front steps.

He’s wearing a pair of overalls, grease-stained, shirtless underneath- the tail end of a larger ink piece peeking out against his ribs. There’s a lone bike tire on the ground, held steady by the spokes his boot rests on as he wrenches the middle hub, biceps rippling and flexing with each movement.

Certainly a sight that would have stopped you in your tracks, on any other day. But you’re determined to have it out with the returning wingbeat behind your navel, planting your Converse in the gravel just before the first step that Eddie’s sat on.

He doesn’t seem surprised to see you this time, instead giving you a lazy smile on a half-tilt, wiping the tire oil from his hands onto the front of his overalls.

“What brings a fair maiden such as yourself to this ugly neck of the woods?” Eddie leans the tire up against the steps and rises to greet you.

You’re gonna lose what little nerve you have left if he touches you so you act quick, speaking as you cross your arms- “I need to tell you a few things.”

That stops him up short, just a few feet away as he inclines his head, hair loose around his bare shoulders. “I’m nothin’ but ears.”

A wet, rattling breath catches in your chest. You give a cursory scan around to confirm that the rest of the trailer park citizens are indoors, soft lights from rows of windows luminous against the darkening twilight sky.

“I have a… a thing,” you start, unsure of where to begin, really wishing you’d come up with a polished script on the ride over instead of being forced to flounder through for the right dialogue. “It started last year. With the mall fire?”

When Eddie nods his understanding, you continue, in short starts and bursts, like you’re fighting with the words before they come out.

“Something… happened. To Robin, and Steve, and to- to me. It was really bad, for awhile, and then it got better, but I’m still…” your hands squeeze tight into the flesh of your upper arms, nails stinging. “I’m fucked up from it. And the only way I can talk about it is if I’m fucked up, too. S’why I can only hold a conversation when I’m drunk or flirt while I’m high, like there’s this bad thing inside of me that I can’t look at when I’m sober-”

There’s a frantic edge that’s slipped in to your voice and Eddie steps towards you, as if to soothe, but you’re not ready to give in yet so you take a step back, choking out the last few words- “I just- I wish I could tell you everything, but I can’t, not yet, and I’m sorry. I’m really sorry.”

From somewhere in the forest behind, a bright chorus of crickets swells as you fix your focus on the ground, as Eddie’s boots crunch forward on the gravel, toe-to-toe with your sneakers.

He moves carefully, as if worried that you’ll spook- lightly brushing his fingers across yours, drawing your awareness to the fact that your nails are dangerously close to drawing blood, a sigh as you release.

“Thank you for telling me.” Unlike your own voice, his is low and sure as his thumbs brush against the red half-moons in your arms. “You’re really brave, you know that?”

He doesn’t leave room for you to dispute this, instead tracing the underside of your jaw with his knuckle, forcing you to hold his gaze, those deep brown eyes soft with empathy as he says, “I don’t have any expectations of you, ‘kay? I’ll be all ears when you need me to be, but you don’t have to spill all your secrets every time you come around. You wanna just watch shitty cartoons and keep my couch warm, that’s fine by me. Nothin’ else needs to happen.”

And it’s his acknowledgement of your admission, his softhearted way of letting you know that nothing needs to happen, that makes you brave.

Brave enough to tilt your chin into the lift of his finger as you say, “I didn’t just come here to apologize.”

You watch his Adam’s apple bob against the taut vein in his neck as he swallows, hard.

“Yeah?”

When you nod, Eddie blows out a breath and turns on his heel, motioning you to follow him up the stairs.

Your eagerness is obvious as you scramble up the steps after him, heart starting to thrum in tandem with the flutters as he shuts his front door behind the both of you.

“Take your shoes off,” is all he says, in a low, strained voice, before turning into the kitchen.

Obedient, you drop to one knee and jerk apart your sneaker laces with trembling hands.

Now on nyloned feet, you step onto the linoleum tile of Eddie’s kitchen. He’s faced away from you at the sink, taut lines of his shoulders rising and falling as he washes his hands.

“You’re sober?” He asks, still at the sink, drying his hands on a patterned teatowel.

When you realize he can’t see your nod, you speak- “Yes. Yeah. As a judge.”

A soft exhale through his nose, amused, as he finally turns to face you. Eddie’s eyes do that hypnotizing dance- skipping from your chin to your eyes to your lips back up again- and you let him, feeling exposed to the point of nakedness with the intensity of his focus.

“I want to hear you say it.”

The sentence winds through the air, joins the wings in your stomach, sits low in your belly as you shift your weight from side to side, a gentle rock to ease your flayed-alive nerves.

You say it. “I want your mouth.”

Eddie takes a step closer, nearly toe-to-toe with you again. Over the familiar layer of bergamot and fresh hand soap he smells like the outdoors, and faintly of mechanic oil, hearty and wild.

“Where?” It’s a single word, but with so much weight- suggestive, a taunt, an offer.

You breathe him in, eyes fluttering closed, ‘cuz brave as you’ve been it’s still hard to say some things while looking at him. “Want your mouth… on me.”

He crowds into your space, one hand gliding smoothly to set against your waist, the other fitted against your neck, tapping a thumb to your lips.

You part them, passive and wanting, but he doesn’t press his finger to the pad of your tongue like you’d hoped. Instead, he lets his thumb stroke to the corner of your mouth to make room for his own.

“Where?” he asks again, this time into your mouth. You can feel the tip of his nose graze yours, pinpricks of his hair tickling your cheeks.

“Please,” is all you manage this time, awash with heat when you feel his smile form.

“S’okay, sweetheart. I’ll work you up to it.” It’s a touch condescending, skirting that fine line between tease and mean, the same tone of voice that has your thighs pressing together.

And then, he gives you what you asked for. His plush lips- the ones that you’ve been fantasizing about for what feels like eons- are pressing against yours.

It’s a kiss that starts chaste, tender, but soon devolves into a heady, fevered thing when you push your tongue past the seam of his lips. He melts into you, using the hand he has on your face to keep you steady as he sucks your bottom lip into his mouth, grazing his teeth into the plush of it before going back to twining his tongue with yours.

There’s an audible wet click as he pulls away, both of your chests heaving in the quiet that follows; Eddie rests his forehead against yours briefly to catch his breath, and then he’s tugging you down the hall and into his room.

It’s pleasantly messy and lived-in, posters and photographs taking up most of the walls, guitar cables snaking and criss-crossing atop his dresser. You take a seat on the bed, hands tightening into the flannel duvet while Eddie begins to undo the buttons of his overall straps.

Wholly fascinated, you watch as he pushes the thick material from his body and kicks it to the side, leaving him in just his guitar pick necklace and a simple pair of black boxers. Now on full display, you drink in the sight of the most skin you’ve ever seen of his- tattoos at his chest and arms dark against the rest of him, pale and gleaming softly in the yellow light of the bedside lamp.

You’re trying to figure out if the larger piece on his ribs is a dragon or some other mythological creature when he moves in to sit next to you, his kisses erasing all thoughts.

Eddie’s making these throaty little noises as you kiss; his hands track lines from your hips to your sides to your shoulders, your chest unconsciously pressing into his touch.

When his thumb catches on the outline of your beaded nipple through your shirt, he hisses lightly, drawing back to look at you again- “Is this okay?”

You nod, but he doesn’t seem satisfied with that, tsking as he swipes with his thumb again, watching closely as you react silently to the touch.

“Hard to tell when you’re enjoying yourself if you’re quiet as a churchmouse,” Eddie says, in a tone that’s reminiscent of training a pet. “You gonna let me hear you?”

Your teeth catch on your lower lip as he thumbs across your nipple again, shockwaves coursing into goosebumps as you choke out, “I’m not s-so good at that. Not without- fuck- weed..”

Eddie huffs a laugh, a little derisive but you figure he’s probably got the right, seeing as how you’re this worked up and he’s barely touched you.

“You’re plenty good at this sober, sweetheart. Want me to prove it?”

His hand falls from your breast, extricates one of yours from the covers, and slides it up the meat of his thigh- then to the front of his boxers.

The first noise you make for him is a small gasp, one that matches his own as you cup your palm over the thick jut of his hard cock.

“Told you,” he says, sounding strung-out, his hand still closed around your wrist, “You’re doin’ just fine at working me up.”

You wrap your fingers around the bulge as best you can with the fabric of his boxers separating skin from skin, gaining confidence to explore as his grip on your wrist loosens. The black ink at his ribs expands and shrinks with the bellows of his breath, jolting and stuttering with each stroke of your hand.

Just as he’s drawing in a breath to speak, tightening his hold around your wrist in warning, you still your movements. Delicately, slowly, you slide out of his grasp and take his wrist in your hand, placing his palm on your own thigh.

The whole “reciprocating pleasure with sound” is still a hard one to give in to; maybe you can compensate for your hesitancy by showing instead of telling. You guide his hand up, into your skirt, parting your thighs until his fingers find the wetness soaking through both your panties and tights.

“Fucking… jesus.” Eddie moves with the fluid surety that you lack, middle finger running up the seam of your clothed pussy, your hips jerking reflexively when he catches against your clit. “This all for me, princess?”

In answer, you lean to bury your face into the crook of Eddie’s neck. He lets you, taking the opportunity to hook your leg over his thigh, spreading you out as much as your fitted denim skirt will allow.

You pant into the column of his throat as he strokes you through the light layers, the fabrics grinding friction into your clit caught under his fingertip. He rests his chin on the crown of your head, cooing praises that have your stomach muscles tensing.

“That’s it, good girl, such a good girl for me.”

Your clit is throbbing now as he rubs you in small, quick circles, and you’re so close to falling over the edge that you have to pull his hand away.

Eddie picks up on your unspoken plea; he tugs the skirt down your hips then tosses it blindly over his shoulder, reaching for the edge of your tights. He slips them down your thighs, your calves, peeling them off you with reverence. When all that’s left is your best pair of satin panties, he maneuvers you up against the headboard and stretches himself flat on his stomach, nose pressing into your core.

That heat has come back, flashing through you with a vengeance as Eddie mouths at your pussy through the satin, sloppily but with purpose enough to have your cunt clenching around nothing.

You stay up on your elbows, watching that mane of dark hair bracketed by your thighs, but when Eddie pulls your underwear down and off your ankle your weight falls back against the mattress.

The flat of his tongue licks a wide stripe from your weeping hole up to spread the wetness around your clit. When he sucks the bundle of nerves into his mouth, your head presses back into the covers, hands grappling above you for something to anchor your grasp.

When Eddie flicks the point of his tongue against that bright spot of nerves your hands find a pillow to grip, and when he moans into your pussy the vibrations have you instinctively pulling the pillow against your face, teeth biting into the fluff, masking the whine that would have been loud in the otherwise quiet room.

You think you might be able to get away with this setup (what with Eddie seemingly focused on making you explode into a million little pieces) but there’s a sharp smack before the outer skin of your thigh is burning, white-hot from the kiss of his rings.

Eddie’s mouth leaves you only for the time it takes for him to rip the pillow from your grasp and scold, “Uh uh, none of that, c’mon,” and then he’s back at your clit, suckling with renewed vengeance.

There are little stars bursting at the edges of your vision, your hands shooting down to grip at Eddie’s hair when he pistons the point of his tongue against you again. Your hips are subtly bucking into his mouth, shaking thighs involuntarily closing around his ears. Normally you’d be concerned about Eddie’s air intake but going off the moans he’s burying in your pussy, you’d hazard a guess that he’s really into it.

As if in confirmation, he pulls off your clit with a wet pop, laving his tongue up the junction where thigh meets pelvis, voice sounding wrecked- “Doin’ so good, sweetheart. Fuck, you got me so hard. Gonna blow a load in my boxers like a teenager, y’taste so good. Gonna let me hear you? Hm? Wanna hear you.”

You’re dizzy with want as you prop yourself on your elbows again, mouth falling open as Eddie sinks two of his fingers up to the ringed knuckle inside your velvet walls.

His other hand comes to rest on the soft curve of your stomach, pinning you in place, before he looks up at you, black pupils nearly eclipsing the chocolate brown.

“What do you want?” he asks again, patiently, as if he doesn’t have two fingers nestled inside your cunt.

Your efforts to grind into him are stopped with his firm hold on your middle, and he tuts at you again- but instead of a reprimand, he seems to soften a bit.

“C’mon, angel,” Eddie says, with such tenderness that makes tears prick at the corner of your eyes. He presses his lips to the inside of your thigh before encouraging, “Lemme hear you say it, and I’ll make it so good for you. Promise.”

“Want you to make me come. Please.” Your voice is unsteady, but it’s audible enough.

Eddie rewards you by sinking his fingers further, to the hilt, heel of his palm catching against your clit. When you let out a warbling moan, he nods- “That’s it,”- before setting a steady rhythm for fucking his fingers up into you.

“Fuck, Eddie- fu-uck…” you’re trying, really trying to stay in the moment and not get caught up in the noises you’re making- for him.

When Eddie reattaches his mouth to your throbbing clit and angles his fingers to hit into that soft, spongy spot with each thrust, you feel waves of pleasure start to wash through you. There’s just time for a choked “Shit, Eddie, you’re gonna make me cum,” before you’re spasming around his fingers.

Somehow, you manage to stay on your elbows, bracing your body through the convulsive shocks, white-hot stars joining the wingbeat rhythm as Eddie takes you apart with his mouth and fingers.

He moans, long and low, fucking you through it and then some- your orgasm has been completely wrung out when you push at his forehead, whimpering at the overstimulation.

“No, baby, one more, please. Gimme one more,” Eddie lifts his head to plead with you, sweaty bangs glued to his forehead- and then he’s back between your legs.

It’s this moment that makes you retrospective. Sex with boys, in the past, has always been a quick means to an end: a few minutes of foreplay, tamping down your own pleasure for the sake of blowing off some steam.

But now, pleasure was being given to you in spades by Eddie Munson, and you wanted to give it back to him.

You come on his tongue and fingers, again, stomach tightening beneath his warm palm, and this time you really loose the sounds caught in your chest: a strangled mix of your bliss-soaked whines with his name, Eddie Eddie Eddie.

You feel the bed frame jolt below you both as Eddie’s hips thrust into the mattress in a frenzied tempo.

“Fuck me.” He pulls away, finally, panting into the side of your knee. He rests his head against your leg, lips tinged pink and shining wet, gazing at you with lust-blown eyes. “You are so fucking hot. Holy shit.”

Bashful as your peak wears off, you pull him forward so you don’t have to look at him when you whisper, “Yeah?”

“Yeah, princess,” he says, slumping against your chest and into your arms. “That’s going straight to my long-term spank bank. Number one. For sure.”

You slap playfully at his shoulder, and he rises on his elbows to kiss you- once on the lips, twice on the cheek- warm palms on the outside of your shoulders.

“Are you… d’you need any help?” you ask, reaching to tuck his hair behind his ears, feeling the crush of insecurity leech in. “I dunno if you even- I mean, did you…”

From all the physical activity, your breasts are half-spilled out of your bra, and Eddie bends to kiss at the tops of them, affectionately, shaking his head as he goes. “There is no world in which I would’ve lasted, just now. Very noble of you to assume, though.”

He grins at your giggle, then says- “I dunno about you, but I need some new underwear. Wanna borrow a pair of my boxers? Bet you’d look cute.”

________

Later, when you’re both cleaned up, dressed, and full from a pizza delivery, Eddie invites you outside for a smoke.

You sit with him on the porch couch, legs slung over his, a big flannel blanket shared over both your laps while he smokes with the hand that isn’t on your thigh.

There’s a crunching of wheels on gravel, and Max Mayfield’s bike lamp cuts through the dark.

“Hey, Heavy Metal,” she calls out, undoing her bike helmet and leaning her bike into its kickstand. “Are you done fixing up Lucas’s tires or do I have to keep hauling my ass all the way across town to see him?”

“I’ll have it done tomorrow, Red,” Eddie calls back, giving her a salute.

Halfway to her door, she remarks, “You two are gross, by the way,”

You cross your arms in the sweatshirt Eddie loaned you, slipping into irksome older sister mode easily. “So how’d it go with your boyfriend, tonight, Maxine?”

She flips you both off, but you catch the smile on her face before the front door bangs shut behind her.

Eddie chuckles, smoothing his palm up your thigh, then takes another drag. “You gotta come night smoke with me more often, angel. The streetlights suit you.”

“Gonna get me hooked on nicotine, too?” Your sock foot pokes him in the ribs and he tuts, snapping it up in his free hand and digging his thumb into the arch of your sole.

“Fuck no, your teeth are too pretty to ruin. Want you to come keep me company while I destroy my lungs.”

Another cloud of smoke lifts dreamily around Eddie’s face. His thumb is working wonders on the tense muscle of your foot as you tip your head to rest on the back of the couch. With the nearby streetlamp, his profile is cast in a warm glow; you do a dance of your own, eyes taking in the strong slope of his nose, tracking down to his lips, back up to the wild curls at his temple.

Eddie feels you staring, turns to fix you with a quit it look that you can’t help but laugh at- “What, so you’re the only one who’s allowed to stare?”

“That’s right,” he confirms, leaning forward to set his cig in an ashtray, bullying his way into your space, rings cold under your chin when he tilts your face towards his- “Gotta pay the piper for that obvious violation, sweetheart. Sorry. I don’t make the rules.”

This time, when the flutter within you kicks up, you have a place for it to go- melting softly into Eddie’s lips.

___________________

I wrote the last third of this while blasted please don’t judge too harshly lmao.

for more shy!Reader content: masterlist

#eddie munson x reader #eddie munson x shy! reader #eddie x reader #eddie munson smut #stranger things fic #eddie munson fic #robin buckley #steve harrington #mdni

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elliespassagerprincess · 1 year ago

Note

Can we please get some milf Abby or Ellie the lesbians who like older women are in a drought

💘

Headcannons: milf!abby anderson x reader

part 1 part 2 part 3 part 4

☆ Milf Abby who was divorced and who had full custody of her 4-year-old daughter.

☆ Milf Abby who worked as a lawyer and got her daughter into the best schools.

☆ Milf Abby who went to a parent teacher meeting, to meet her daughters’ new teacher.

☆ Milf Abby who met you for the first time and thought you were the prettiest thing she’d ever seen.

☆ Milf Abby who stood behind everyone else because you made her shy.

☆ Milf Abby whose palms felt sweaty when you walked close to the direction where she was standing.

☆ Milf Abby whose heart rate increased when you asked the parents “any questions?” with a smile.

☆ Milf Abby who went home that night and stared at the ceiling because she just saw an angel.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her daughter about you the next morning.

“What’s she like?” Abby asked as she placed the plate of scrambled eggs in front of Aubrey.

“she’s nice” the little girl started. “she always likes my drawings, and she tells funny stories!”

A small smile appeared on Abby’s face.

Pretty and funny, huh?

“she’s pretty too” Aubrey said with her mouth full off eggs. Abby chuckled at that.

“Your right baby, she is”

☆ Milf Abby who almost shit herself when Aubrey told you that she finds you pretty.

“You did what?” Abby said frantically.

“I told my teacher that you said she was pretty”

Abby groaned, her large hand coming to rub her temples.

“Baby you aren’t supposed to tell that to people, it was a secret”

“Yeah, it was red ones”

“But Heathers dad brought her flowers, and that’s not a secret”

“what?”

“roses?”

“I think so” she spoke

☆ Milf Abby who gets jealous even though she barley knows anything about you.

☆ Milf Abby who watches Heathers dad bring you snacks almost daily when she picks up Aubrey.

☆ Milf Abby who wants to vomit every time you smile at him.

☆ Milf Abby who realizes she had to make a move.

☆ Milf Abby who was nervous because it’s been a while since she’s asked someone on a date.

☆ Milf Abby who writes you a letter and sends it with her daughter.

“My mommy sent you this” Aubrey ran to you with a white envelope. You thanked her, as you opened the letter, eyes widening at what it had to say:

“Hi, are you Tennessee because you’re the only ten I see.

I’m sorry I know that was inappropriate I didn’t know what to say.

Would you like to go on a date with me? I promise no cheesy pickup lines”

☆ Milf Abby who almost jumps out of her car when she sees you walking towards her.

☆ Milf Abby who rolls down the window and tries to act cool.

“Sup” she said, but soon cringed.

You giggled “I’d love to go on a date with you Miss Anderson”

“Call me Abby”

“Abby… I’d love to go out with you”

A grin spread onto the blondes face.

“Friday?”

“Friday”

☆ Milf Abby who fist bumps the air because she’s just that excited.

☆ Milf Abby who almost cancelled because she was so nervous.

☆ Milf Abby who asks her 4-year-old outfit advice.

“What about this?”

“No”

“Aubrey you can’t keep saying no”

“But I don’t like it”

☆ Milf Abby who kisses her daughter goodbye as she bought you a bigger bouquet of roses.

☆ Milf Abby who takes you to a fancy restaurant to impress you.

☆ Milf Abby who finds out you were 20 years younger than her.

Abby blinked a couple of times at the information.

“26?”

“yeah… do I not look my age you?” you asked with a raised eyebrow.

“You really don’t”

☆ Milf Abby who enjoys the date more than she intended to.

☆ Milf Abby who almost combusts when you gave her a kiss on the cheek.

☆ Milf Abby who goes home that night in denial that she liked someone so young.

Age is nothing but a number, but you were years younger. What were you doing with someone like her? Why her? Why not someone your age? What happens if Abby grows so old that you become bored?

☆ Milf Abby who ghosts you for 5 months.

☆ Milf Abby who avoids looking at you when she gets her daughter from school.

☆ Milf Abby who ignores your texts because she thought you deserve someone better.

☆ Milf Abby’s daughter who gave her an awaking.

“Can you stop crying at night mommy? It makes noise”

Abby looked up from the stove.

“you hear that?”

“Yes”

A few seconds of silence passed before Aubrey spoke again. “You made my teacher sad”

“she’s sad?”

“yes and she asked me about you”

“and what did you say?”

“Nothing, you said it was a secret” Abby groaned at Aubrey’s response

“you need to stop pushing people away because you’re insecure”

Abby looked at Aubrey with wide eyes.

She was right, because Abby was so insecure she’s losing a perfect girl because she was scared. How sure was she that you would leave her? How sure was she that you were only using her? Maybe you were the one.

“Where did you hear those words?”

“from grandpa” she said with a shoulder shrug.

“He said that to Nora”

Your back was facing the door as you were writing something on the board.

“of course he did”

☆ Milf Abby who goes to your classroom the next day with flowers.

“I’m sorry” she spoke. She watched you flinched as you turned around.

“what?”

“I’m sorry for just disappearing and not saying anything”

“ok” was all you said as you turned back around to continue writing.

Abby walked towards you with long strides.

“no- no don’t say ok please- give me a chance”

she watched you sigh as you turned around:

“look Miss Anderson-“

“Abby”

“Miss Anderson” you said through gritted teeth.

“It’s ok, this should have not happened”

“Don’t say that”

“Let’s move on, I’ll pretend this never happened” you said with a fake smile on your face.

“god you’re so-“ before Abby could even finish her sentence she grabbed your face, and caught your lips in a kiss.

☆ Milf Abby who was surprised when you kissed her back.

☆ Milf Abby who whimpered when you pulled away.

“What can I do to fix this?” she spoke as she held your face.

“take me out on a date again”

a smile spread on the blondes face: “yeah I’ll do that”

☆ Milf Abby who realizes you won’t make it easy for her.

☆ Milf Abby who was willing to work for this relationship because you were worth it.

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jarofstyles · 8 months ago

Text

Put Your Records On

This is a little thing I came up with at 2 am and kept writing till 5 lol. It's pop star y/n x rock star H. I don't do a lot of canon H and some things are changed/ don't fit into the real one but that's on purpose. Part two will be up very soon!

Check out our Patreon for early access to part 2 and 170+ exclusive writings!

WC- 4.2k

Warnings- dirty talk, mention of bullying (Brief)

She saw him from across the room- well, more like felt him. The room had a buzz in it that it hadn’t before.

It was common knowledge that he was going to be there. One of his best friends was hosting the after party for the BRIT awards, and she had been lucky enough to be invited considering her manager had been friends with the group for a while. Actually, it was a bit shocking that she’d never met the man considering how close their circles ran. She’d met a lot of his management and production team, even a few members of his band- but never the man himself.

It was her second year after making it big on the music scene but her entire life, she’d been working towards this. School musicals, voice lessons, guitar and piano lessons, music had become her flesh and blood and she was determined to make it her bread and fucking butter. She’d been blessed with her voice and a talent like hers wasn’t one to waste, that’s what her parents had said as she grew up- and it had all paid off. She went home with Best New Artist and was coming down on the buzzing high of another huge accomplishment of her career.

Harry was infamous, at the top of the damn world and everyone knew his name. He was just about to hop back on tour, one Y/N had been invited to attend by his manager himself. It seemed like today was the day they would finally meet in person, and judging by the recognition in his eye, he had heard about her too.

God, that made her want to vomit. Growing up she’d been a casual fan of his band, been to a few shows even after scraping together enough money for a ticket along with her best friend. Said friend was lost somewhere in the room and Y/N knew she had a knack for awful timing, but as the man got closer to her she felt her insides begin to bubble. She wasn’t one to get starstruck super easily, thank god, but it was hard not to feel intimidated as he approached her. A black blazer with a very sheer pink blouse underneath, pants tight on the thighs and flared at the calves, necklaces hanging in a thatch of thin chest hair, she’d felt her mouth dry as his smile was given directly to her. Someone she’d grown up singing to in her bedroom, right into her hairbrush, was grinning at her like she was someone important.

“So we finally meet.” Harry reached his hand out to shake hers. Clunky rings covered the digits as her own took them, shaking his warm hand with her own smile on her face. She’d been on stage in front of tens of thousands of people, and yet he was a bit more intimidating. Still she was going to do her best to use her brief acting skills and pretend her heart wasn’t in her throat. “I’ve heard so much about you- your album’s fucking brilliant.”

He was tipsy, she could see that much. His eyes were slightly hooded and he had a looser demeanor than he had seated at the table ahead of her at the awards show. Good for him. It wasn’t likely that he did this too much. It was well known that he wasn’t much for drinking during his working season and he’d won two awards! That called for drinks all around.

What took her off guard, though, was the fact that he’d listened to her album. He listened and he had said it was good? Her cheeks heated as she realized he was still holding her hand, gently letting it fall as he took a step closer. It was a little loud out there but not too bad if you were close enough. “You think so? I’m hoping it’s all good things.” She let out a laugh she hoped sounded natural, adjusting her hair. The girl had always been one to fuss with her clothes when she was nervous but hopefully he didn’t realize that. “So is yours. Got quite a few on my playlists.”

“Yeah?” His smile grew bigger. “Which ones?” Y/N felt the lump in her throat as she tried not to think about how good he smelled. It was so creepy, noticing that. There was a faint hint of tobacco and the tiniest bit of alcohol, but he smelled really warm. Cuddly, in a way. It made sense in her brain, but she was also a drink in at this point.

“Mmm, I have a few from other albums but from the latest? Satellite, that’s the go to for the gym for me… Late Night Talking, very relatable for me. Erm… Boyfriends, unfortunately.” She saw him give a playful wince. “Yeah, men are shit- no offence. And then I’d say Daydreaming is a personal favorite. As It Was was brilliant, obviously, but Daydreaming is my favorite.” It felt like maybe she word-vomited a little but he’d listened to every word, seeming pleased with her answers.

“Daydreaming isn’t one I hear of being a favorite, usually. M’chuffed that it’s yours.” He genuinely seemed happy about it. “I really liked the closing track of your album- it’s so rare to find albums that tell a story, that are thoughtfully laid out, at least at this point in time. I love to listen from front to back and it was laid out perfectly. Usually m’a bit of a snob and would have some critiques but you nailed it.”

Y/N preened. It wasn’t a compliment she got often and it shocked her because that meant he’d really listened. Really paid attention to her music and took time with her album. It was extremely flattering. Surreal, really. Who could have told 15 year old Y/N that Harry would be a fan of her fucking music? She’d probably pass the fuck out. “I’m shocked you got that, but thank you. Yeah, I did the same thing growing up. It was my favorite part of music I’d find, seeing how stuff flowed together. Top to bottom and then bottom to top, then I can shuffle.” It was said in a slightly joking tone but she was fully serious.

“You get it, Y/N.” He reached out to nudge her shoulder. “I’ve been trying to meet you for a bit but my schedule’s been hectic. Thought it wouldn’t be since we’ve been going for a bit now but tour prep… can be brutal, y’know?”

Y/N did know, but on a minuscule scale compared to what his tour probably entailed. He was doing stadiums, for god’s sake! Y/N’s arena tour sold out quickly, but there was a huge size difference in where they were. Hopefully she’d reach his level one day. “I do, I do. It’s not a big deal, I didn’t think you were avoiding me or anything.” For a bit she did, but that was wiped away when she’d realized he released the tour dates. It had been months of almost meetings but she had faith in the universe. When it was meant to happen, it would.

“God no, I was excited to. Did y’want to come sit with us over there?” He motioned to the private area she was allowed into but not been brave enough to venture to quite yet.

“Sure, that would be nice.” Y/N hadn’t expected to be invited to sit with him personally, let alone feel his hand on her back as he led them through the crowd of people in the room. The star said hellos as he walked through but somehow had mastered the art of saying hi without being caught into a conversation without seeming rude. That was a skill she sure as hell was envious of.

His hand was really fucking warm. She could feel slight calluses on his fingertips, in true musician fashion, but they weren’t as rough as one would originally expect. Her backless dress did her no favors in hiding the warmth and how nice and comforting his touch felt, and she wasn’t sure if she wanted to thank or scowl at her stylist. It wasn’t half as uncomfortable as the dress they’d pulled for the carpet, thankfully this dress was a slinky, emerald green one with room for her legs to actually move. Her updo had been taken down to a mess of curls that nearly reached where his hands were- the power of extensions. As heavy as her head felt, she couldn’t deny that she felt exceptionally beautiful. Thank god the universe had chosen today to meet Harry.

“Finally!” Sarah sighed. “I’ve been waiting for you two to meet for ages. Come sit.” The woman had always been very sweet, even more sweet with a few drinks in her. Saying her hellos to the familiar people, she felt Harry sit himself next to her in the booth and immediately drinks were brought over. So this is why it was VIP. It was a lemon drop, something Y/N did happen to like. Harry handing her one before taking his own was unexpected but very appreciated, a gentle thank you exchanged as he settled back next to her.

It was unreal to be here. To be sat at a table of friendly but insanely successful people, feel like part of the ‘in’ crowd, it had completely blindsided her. This was the sort of thing that she’d always thought about when she was in her bed at home as a teenager, hoping one day to rub elbows with the people she once admired so much they had space on her bedroom wall, and here it was. Someone who’s face was on her favorite bedtime tee shirt (Those merch shirts were expensive and she wasn’t about to get rid of it because a member was now in her circle).

“Y/N, did you know that H added some of your songs to the preshow playlist in his dressing room?” Sarah hummed.

“You did?” The girl gasped as she looked at him. If she didn’t know better, she could have sworn she saw a bit of a pink glint to his cheeks. Maybe it was the alcohol.

“He did, and he’s been raving about it to Mitch. Sometimes he’s singing it when we pass, that one song about the… what’s it called? The Raven? Some sort of bird.”

“I think you’ve had enough to drink.” Mitch had to laugh at her airing a bit of Harry’s business, but she was a chatterbox when she was drunk.

“That’s so nice!” Y/N said shyly. “You’re on mine too, actually. The dressing room for me and the one the fans listen to, I can hear them sing it from backstage.”

Harry’s leg was pressed into hers so she didn’t have to turn far to look at him, watching him finish his drink as he nodded. “I do, yeah. Told you I liked your music. I meant it.”

“Yeah, if he didn’t he wouldn’t mention it. That’s why when he met that girl earlier he just said it was nice to meet-” Sarah was cut off by her husband asking her if she wanted to see something on his phone, putting Harry out of his misery.

“M’not an ass.” He groaned. “I just didn’t vibe with the album, y’know? I won’t say things I don’t mean but that doesn’t mean I can’t be polite.”

“Agree, 100%. It’s easy when it’s just a taste thing, but I’ve found it harder with people I’ve seen or heard talk bad about me and it’s confirmed. Dunno how you’re able to do that.” Y/N struggled to not show her nerves or distaste of people sometimes and it was something she was constantly working on. Her best friend often had to tell her to adjust her facial expressions and she’d even gone viral once for a ‘stink face’ she’d made at someone. It was accidental of course, but it’d also caused one of her first big waves of hate.

“It’s not easy, and anyone who says so is lying.” Harry confirmed. “It’s taken me years. Said something about pussy on tv not realizing the cameras could see, so It’s trial and error.” The joke had the both of them laughing, Y/N not divulging that she indeed already knew that. “I think it’s important to just remember they’re humans and probably just as nervous t’see you. It’s just a short interaction and you can move on quickly. I also think working out, yoga, all of that helps a lot with my inner calm. It isn’t easy, like I said, but you’re also in the beginnings of your career in this sort of light. I’ve got no doubt that you’ll be able to have a good poker face by the end of the year.”

“God, I love that song.” Y/N sighed. “Poker face, loved that one I mean. But thank you. I really do appreciate the advice. I was terrified coming tonight. The award shows are much scarier than your own gigs.”

“Oh, definitely.” Harry whistled, taking another drink from the tray and handing a fresh one to her. “S’like, you know the people who go to your shows are there for you. It’s like a little family get together, it’s safer. Those people love you enough t’buy a ticket, travel got knows how long, wears a shirt with your face on it. It’s mental to think about but incredible. These things?” He motioned around the room. “All marketing and partying, but more drama. S’crazy how many people have slept with each other in this room.” Harry realized a bit too late that he’d said too much but thankfully Y/N just giggled in agreement. “You seem to take to it quite well though. Not to sound weird but I saw you accept your awards and socialize a bit here, you’ve probably got the whole room fooled.”

That was a relief and a compliment in her opinion. The goal was to make sure no one sensed the weakness. Unfortunately she’d learned early on that these people could sniff it out like a shark in bloodied water. “That’s the goal.” She replied, leaning back into the seat. Her back was killing her from the bloody heels on her feet and how tight her other dress was, so it was a relief to have this reprieve from them sitting here.

“So tell me about your tour then. What’s going on with that?”

—-----------

Y/N was drunk. Certifiably hammered. She had one too many lemon drops and apparently, so did Harry. Some of the people had vacated the booth and it left them alone as they talked amongst themselves. With the aid of the liquid courage, she wasn’t losing her mind over how close they were. Sure, her heart was still going a million miles a minute, but that was due to his fingers fiddling with the strap of her dress. Harry was, evidently, a touchy drunk. Clingy. He’d even followed her to the bathroom and waited for her outside before they’d returned.

In all honesty, she was pretty sure she wouldn’t believe all of this in the morning. That Harry had ignored everyone else in favor of talking to her, tucked away in VIP at a round table, his body closer than it needed to be considering the space. They’d talked about a lot of industry things, but more so the fun and personal. She told him about her collection of band tee shirts and admitting to not having listened to all the bands she wore, but he didn’t judge her for it. Said he went through a phase of doing the same while in the band. She told him about her cat, a Siamese named Simon and he’d cooed over photos on her phone about how cute he’d looked with his collar that had a little flower on it. So many topics were covered, so many things discussed in the last two hours that she felt like she was getting a handle on who he was.

Though this many drinks, it was bleeding into oversharing.

“Your ex was at the awards?” He asked, eyes slightly red but widening as she dropped the tidbit.

“Yep.” The p in the word was exaggerated with a pop of her lips and an eye roll. “Note to you for the future, don’t fuck anyone involved in your production team. Makes for a nasty breakup and a lot of rude ‘inside sources’ with the press.” Her lips flattened. “And he couldn’t even make me finish, so. Fuck him.”

Harry’s eyes widened further before he groaned, his head dropping to the side onto the leather booth seat. “No, not that, Y/N. C’mon.” He seemed a bit distraught. “It’s always those guys that make your life hell, isn’t it? I’m sorry. I did learn that a bit early on.” He seemed to remember it but she didn’t ask. If he didn’t divulge it, she wasn’t going to pry. “You got the shit end of the stick. It’s one of my embarrassments being a male. Y’don’t have to be a rocket scientist to learn how to pleasure a woman.”

“You’d think.” She scoffed. “Swear, men in LA don’t know how to use any of their appendages. Used like a human fleshlight so I stopped hooking up with people. It got discouraging after the fifth time I left. Not a single one know where the clit is.” It was an unfortunate truth. Maybe she was looking in the wrong places or had a string of bad luck, but she’d been voluntarily celibate because of it. “Doubt you know what m’talking about, Mr Watermelon Sugar.”

Y/N realized her internal thought had become an external one when he broke out into his own giggles, her face heating. She’d definitely not meant for that to be said out loud, but thankfully he didn’t seem offended. It was the truth anyways, any man who loved pleasuring a woman so much that he wrote a whole song about it had to know what he was doing.

As his giggles came down, he replied. “Well, I’d like t’think I do. I…” He swallowed. “Know we just met, but overshare?” Scooting closer, he watched her nod. “I think I get off more on getting other people off, if that makes sense. Like, making someone feel good. I dunno if it’s some sort of ego thing, but I enjoy it a lot. Being the cause of pleasure. Think it probably ties in to a bit of a praise kink I’ve got, but it’s the truth.”

Y/N had never thought she’d get into this sort of conversation with the man, let alone in a dark corner at the BRITs afterparty, but she wasn’t about to complain. “So it’s true then?” She rose an eyebrow. “You really love eating pussy?” Drunk Y/N had officially taken over. A bit of a drunk, horny Y/N she’d been trying to repress. In the morning she would be mortified that she asked that, but right now she was genuinely curious.

“I do.” He smirked. “I dunno there’s just something about it. Being the one to make someone gasp. When it feels so good they try and push and pull you at the same time. Love the taste, love t’hear the noises. Maybe it’s a little arrogant of me but your name sounds better when it’s said with pleasure, don’t you think?”

Y/N should have known better than to ask. Harry was a very attractive, alluring man, he was close to her and smelled so fucking good and god damn it, she was already horny. Her cunt throbbed and she knew she was going to have a wet patch in her thong when she left, but she was a glutton for punishment. “I do. I like giving for the same reason.” She admitted. “I’ve always had a lack of gag reflex so, it’s made it easier for me than other people probably have it.”

Harry’s interest seemed to be stroked, fingers brushing over her bare neck as she spoke. It was hard to concentrate here, with him so close. But Y/N always did like to be a bit of a tease, brushing the tip of her foot over the back of his leg. Maybe they were playing a dangerous game talking about this, but no one else was around. She didn’t fall back when his head dipped slightly, getting closer than necessary. “Look at us then. What a pair.”

“I know. You’re just bold enough to write a whole song about it.” Her finger poked him playfully in the chest.

“M’not apologetic about it. A woman’s pleasure is important and often overlooked. Makes me sad that no one’s made you feel good in that long. I hope you’re taking care of yourself at the very least.” Oh, she was. And she would be when she got back to her hotel tonight. Thank god for the suction vibrators.

“I do, but it’s not the same as having someone else do it for you.” Her drunk self told her it as a good idea to pout, trying not to breath too hard as his fingers caressed the nape of her neck. “Sometimes I just miss the touch of another human, you know? Even innocent touches but, there’s nothing like being fucked so hard you feel it the next day. Feels like it’s impossible to find it anymore.”

“It’s not.” He replied. Eyes were staring into her own. “You’re fucking stunning. Especially tonight, you could pull anyone in the room.” Gaze dipped down to her cleavage, not hiding that he was looking. Heat that had been bubbling in her stomach spread through the rest of her body, his touch igniting a bit of a spark.

“Anyone?” Her head tilted to the side. The tension had been growing a bit with the two of them but now it was thick in the air. There was no denying that there was an attraction between them but it was palpable now. “So if I wanted to, I could pull you?” Y/N had no idea if he was even available for anything right now. It wasn't’ a smart idea considering how closely they worked near each other, but right now all she could think about was the fact that she had full confidence that Harry could give her the feelings that she wanted- the fuck she needed.

“Absolutely. M’hanging on by a thread here.” His voice deepened, face far closer to hers than should be appropriate for two people who just met. “I’ve been trying to be a gentleman all night. M’a bit of a slut sometimes but hookups aren’t usually my thing. Was trying to figure out a way to ask you out but, I’ve been a little nervous.” Fingers curled around the back of her neck as their noses brushed. ‘But fuck it, right?” Warm breaths puffed against each others, leaving the ball in Y/N’s court.

“Fuck it.”

Harry took that and ran. Lips pressed against hers as he cradled her neck, angling her how he wanted while he slowly kissed her. It was shockingly intimate despite the setting, smooth, soft lips sucking lightly against hers. There was no sign of stopping as her mouth opened for him, letting their tongue brush and the heat rise between them. His body angled slightly to cover hers from view, he let out a low groan in his throat as her hand raised to his hair. It was soft and a bit long for him as of late, but it felt good between her fingers. His other hand held the side of her face, so gentle but solid that she knew she’d give into any of his demands.

The party raged on behind them but they got lost in the kisses, one turning to three, turning to ten and they hardly came up for air. There was no doubt her makeup was going to be fucked up, that her lipstick was done for, but there was no better way to ruin it. “Y’taste so sweet.” Harry’s words were whispered against her swelling lips. “And you smell so good. Been driving me a bit crazy. Wanted to meet you for ages cause I knew we’d get on… but didn’t think we’d get on this well.” He chuckled into the kiss, squeezing the back of her neck and making her melt slightly into him. “Hoped for it, though.”

“You did?” Her own voice was breathless as she tried to catch up to his kisses.. It was hard not to get butterflies when he hummed in agreement. Harry had been excited to meet her. “Had a little crush, did you?” The statement was fully meant to be a tease, but he agreed.

“Suppose I did.”

628 notes · View notes

pbaz7 · 9 days ago

Text

AGAINST THE TIDE: PART THREE

paige x azzi

word count: 5.3k

A/N: Here’s a chapter with a lot more interaction between Paige and Azzi. Don’t do too much on my girl this chapter y’all she getting better😭. Let me know what you think and leave reactions! I’m low key starting chapter 5 today 🤭

—————————————————————————

April 2021

Azzi and Paige's respective seasons had come to an end, though in completely different fashions.

For Azzi, it was the perfect finale to her high school career. After a long recovery from her ACL and MCL injury, she returned stronger than anyone thought possible in her senior year. And she was able to cement her place as one of the best players in the nation after everyone questioned if she would be able to come back the same. She became a McDonald's All-American and earned the prestigious Morgan Wootten Player of the Year award on top of carrying her team to another state championship, leaving her high school legacy on the highest note possible. When she walked off the court for the final time in her high school jersey, the roar of the crowd and the embrace of her teammates felt like the perfect send-off. Azzi was content. She had conquered every challenge thrown her way, and now she was ready for the next chapter at UConn.

For Paige, the end of her freshman year at UConn was a much different story. On paper, her season was nothing short of extraordinary. She had helped the Huskies defeat their rivals time and time again, putting on performances that left commentators and fans in awe. She’d scored a season-high 32 points and dished out 7 assists against St. John’s of New York—a game where it seemed like her fierce competitiveness toward the St. John’s she’d grown up playing against carried over to this completely unrelated team.

The accolades poured in. Paige was named Big East Player of the Year, unanimous Big East Freshman of the Year, and helped UConn secure the Big East Championship title. She had the most points by any UConn player in their NCAA tournament debut. By the end of the season, she’d been crowned AP Player of the Year and Naismith College Player of the Year—the first freshman in history to earn both honors.

But none of that mattered to Paige.

For all the individual awards and historic milestones, she couldn't forgive herself for how the season ended. UConn had made it to the Final Four, and the weight of expectations—both internal and external—was immense. Paige believed it was her job to lead her team to a national championship, but when they lost to Arizona in the semifinals, everything came crashing down for her.

She replayed the game in her mind constantly, scrutinizing every missed shot, every turnover, every moment she thought she could have done more. The praise and accolades felt hollow, and no one could convince her otherwise. For Paige, and according to the media, the loss was a failure. It didn’t matter that she was only 19 years old, it didn’t matter that she was only a freshman, the media tore into her from every angle and she hated herself for giving them the room to talk in the first place, despite what everyone around her said. If she had won they wouldn’t have had anything to say.

While Azzi basked in the glow of a picture perfect end to her high school journey, Paige drowned herself in guilt and frustration. Day after day, she was in the gym, pushing herself harder and harder. No one had to tell her to work—she was relentless. The sound of basketballs hitting the court echoing through an otherwise empty gym.

For Paige, there was no off-season. The only way to make peace with her freshman year, she thought, was to be better.

Her freshman year had been historic. But Paige didn’t care about history. She only cared about winning, and anything less wasn’t good enough.

May 2021

Paige was back home in the DMV, spending her days exactly the way she had since the loss in the Final Four. The small, private space her trainer let her use had become her sanctuary. She had poured every ounce of herself into her offseason grind, putting on muscle and sharpening her skills. Each shot, each drill, each drop of sweat was a reminder of what she wanted to fix.

The gym was empty, just how she liked it. Paige worked in solitude, her sneakers squeaking on the hardwood as she moved through her drills. The sharp echo of the ball bouncing against the floor filled the space. She was locked in, oblivious to everything but the rhythm of her workout.

The faint creak of the door opening didn’t even break her focus.

“Hey,” a familiar voice called out.

Paige barely glanced over, recognizing Azzi immediately. She gave a slight nod in polite acknowledgment but kept shooting. Azzi lingered near the door for a moment, unsure if she should stay or leave. Last summer, she would have turned around and walked away without hesitation like she almost did. But not this time. She stepped farther into the gym, watching Paige as the other girl moved with mechanical precision, no emotion on her face

After a while, Azzi spoke again, her voice cutting through the quiet. “Are we ever going to talk? You know, now that we’re going to be on the same team.”

Paige didn’t even look up. “Not really in the mood to talk today, sorry.” She said, launching another three-pointer that swished through the net.

Azzi sighed, crossing her arms. “Seems like a pattern,” she muttered, just loud enough for Paige to hear.

That made Paige pause. She caught the ball as it rebounded toward her and turned to face Azzi, her expression annoyed. “What the hell are you talking about?”

Azzi leaned against the wall, arms still folded. “You know what I’m talking about. When I came to visit UConn in December, you blew me off. You couldn’t even speak, let alone stick around for five minutes.”

Paige scoffed, dribbling the ball lazily as she shook her head. “Not everything is about you, Azzi.”

Azzi pushed off the wall, her brows furrowed. “That’s bullshit. You were avoiding me. Just stop being pussy and admit it.”

Paige let out a humorless laugh. “Contrary to this inflated-ass ego you seem to have, other people have things going on. It didn’t have shit to do with you Azzi.”

Azzi stared at her, stunned eyes almost bulging out of her head. “I have the ego? You can’t be serious right now?”

“Yes,” Paige said flatly, bouncing the ball once before shooting it again.

Azzi stepped closer, her frustration bubbling to the surface. “You couldn’t put your feelings aside for two seconds to welcome me to UConn because your ego’s so damn big.”

Paige rolled her eyes, spinning the ball on her hand before letting it drop to the floor. “Like I said, it didn’t have shit to do with you. I played like garbage the day before and needed to clear my head.”

Azzi tilted her head, her tone incredulous. “You played fine, Paige. I watched that game.”

Paige snorted, shaking her head as she bent to pick up the ball. “No, I didn’t.” She straightened up and started ticking off mistakes on her fingers. “I had a sloppy turnover, missed three shots that all hit the rim the exact same way because my footing was off, got scored on because I went under screens too many damn times…” Her voice was rising, her frustration with herself evident.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the laundry list of self-criticism. “That’s not even that bad, Paige. You’re just trying to find excuses for being childish and avoiding me.”

Paige’s eyes flashed as she now fully faced Azzi, her tone sharp. “See that’s your problem, Azzi. You’re fine with ‘not bad.’ You’re fine with mediocre shit and you get mad at people who aren’t.”

Azzi, clearly offended. “You don’t know shit about me if you think I’m fine with mediocre Paige.”

“Oh, I know enough,” Paige shot back, her voice laced with irritation as she shot the ball again.

Azzi let out a muttered, “Whatever,” as she turned away. She grabbed her basketball shoes, plopping down on the bench to lace them up. Afterward, she moved to stretch, her movements calm and deliberate, just like she always did.

The silence between them was heavy, but neither seemed willing to break it. Paige resumed her shooting, her focus sharp and a little intense now. Azzi followed suit, picking up a ball and taking her own shots. Unlike last summer, when they’d somehow found a rhythm together, this time they kept their distance, rebounding their own shots and staying on opposite ends of the half court.

The only sounds were the echo of the basketballs, the swish of the net, and their heavy breathing. The tension that lingered between them from the argument didn’t dissipate, but they both seemed like they were just going to ignore it.

Paige’s focus faltered as her phone, lying on the bench nearby, began to ring. The sharp tone interrupted her music in her ears, cutting into her concentration. She ignored it the first time, then the second, but by the third, she was definitely irritated.

“Are we serious?” she muttered under her breath, catching the ball after it went through the net and tucking it under her arm. She walked over to the bench, her frustration evident in every step. Grabbing the phone, she glanced at the screen before answering.

“Yes, E?” Paige said, clearly irritated with everything happening today.

Azzi glanced over briefly but kept shooting as she heard the nickname she knew was for Evina, her movements still smooth and efficient. She couldn’t help but listen to Paige’s side of the conversation, even if she pretended not to.

“I’m fine,” Paige said, her tone clipped. A pause, then, “No, I don’t need you guys checking in on me every five minutes. I’m not a kid.”

Azzi caught her rebound, her curiosity piqued. She heard Paige’s exasperated sigh before she continued. “I said I’m fine!…I’m sorry…I’m just in the gym, okay?”

Another pause, longer this time. Paige’s expression softened slightly, though her tone remained defensive. “Yes, I’m eating. No, I’m not overdoing it. Can you guys please just stop hovering for like two seconds? I swear I’m fine.”

Azzi missed her next shot, distracted by the way Paige’s voice wavered slightly on the last sentence. She retrieved the ball and glanced over again, noting the way Paige’s jaw was clenched slightly with the conversation.

“Yes E, I get it, okay? I do. But I don’t need you to—” Paige stopped mid-sentence, closing her eyes and letting out a frustrated breath. “Yeah, I know it’s not my fault–Yes I know. Ok, I’ll call you later.”

She hung up abruptly, tossing her phone back onto the bench with more force than necessary. Her shoulders sagged for a moment before she closed her eyes, took a deep breath and straightened up, spinning the ball in her hands as she made her way back to the court.

Azzi didn’t say anything, but she watched Paige carefully, her expression unreadable. Paige didn’t acknowledge her, resuming her shooting with a little more force than before, as if trying to work out her frustrations on the court.

The silence between them stretched on, filled only by the rhythm of bouncing balls and the occasional swish of a perfect shot.

July 2021

The short break before heading to UConn for the summer session had gone by a little too quickly for Azzi. It felt like one moment she was at home with her family, soaking up their familiar warmth, and the next, she was packing her bags, giving tight hugs, and heading off to start a new chapter in Connecticut. The thought of being at UConn felt surreal, even though she’d visited before. Now it was official—she was part of the team.

The roster had shifted quite a bit since her last visit. Azzi wasn’t the only fresh face; two other freshmen, Caroline and Amari, had joined the team. The sophomore class had thinned out, now consisting of only Paige, Aaliyah, Nika, and Piath. Aubrey was the only junior on the team, and was known for her quiet but steady presence on the court. The upperclassmen rounded out the roster, with seniors Christyn and Olivia bringing their experience, Evina stepping into a leadership role, and Dorka, a graduate transfer, joining the fold for her first year at UConn.

It was a balanced team, a blend of youth and experience, and Azzi felt a mix of nerves and excitement at the thought of working with them. The expectations were high, but she was ready.

…

From the moment she arrived, the practices were intense. UConn’s reputation as a basketball powerhouse wasn’t just for show, and the demands were grueling on Azzi’s body. The upperclassmen set the tone, with Evina and Christyn emerging as clear leaders, guiding the team both on and off the court. Paige, despite being only a sophomore, was right there with them. She had an undeniable presence, her skills speaking louder than words, and her surprisingly calm demeanor commanded respect everyday at practice.

Azzi, however, was still trying to get a read on Paige. The girl was an enigma. For someone who could be so fiery and competitive on the court, Paige seemed almost indifferent to Azzi off it. She didn’t go out of her way to ignore her, but she didn’t engage either. Paige showed up to team bonding events, polite and cordial, but her interactions with Azzi were nonexistent unless they were arguing during drills or scrimmages.

It was frustrating, to say the least. Azzi couldn’t tell if Paige didn’t like her or just didn’t care for her presence. And yet, somehow, during today’s team bonding activity—a scavenger hunt organized by Coach CD, of all things—Azzi found herself assigned as Paige’s partner.

Paige muttered something under her breath when the pairs were announced .

Azzi crossed her arms, arching a brow. “Trust me, I’m not exactly jumping for joy here either.”

Paige rolled her eyes at Azzi’s comment , adjusting the strap of her backpack. “Let’s just go.”

The rest of the team was already scattering in pairs, armed with clue sheets and a mix of determination and excitement. Azzi glanced at their first clue and sighed. This was going to be a long afternoon.

The two of them trudged through the scavenger hunt, their movements as tense as the silence between them. Paige seemed perfectly at ease with it, her eyes fixed on the list in her hand. Azzi, on the other hand, was brimming with unspoken frustration. She wasn’t one to hold things in, and after several minutes of biting her tongue, she couldn’t take it anymore.

“Why don’t you like me?” Azzi blurted out, the words cutting through the quiet.

Paige barely looked up from her paper. “I don’t not like you,” she replied, her tone not hinting at her emotion.

Azzi huffed, folding her arms as she followed Paige. “Yeah, sure. That’s why you barely talk to me outside of practice. That’s why all you do is argue with me when we scrimmage. And don’t think I haven’t noticed the way you roll your eyes every time I open my mouth.”

Paige finally stopped walking, turning to face Azzi with a mixture of confusion and something else. “You’re reading too much into it Azzi. Just because we don’t hang out doesn’t mean I don’t like you.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her expression incredulous. “Then what does it mean, Paige? Because from where I’m standing, it sure feels like you’ve decided you can’t stand me and you bust my ass everyday in practice.”

Paige sighed, glancing around as if hoping for the next clue to appear and rescue her from the conversation. “That doesn’t mean I don’t like you. It just means I think you need to be better.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the bluntness of the statement. “Better?”

“Yeah,” Paige said, her voice even. “You’re good, Azzi. Everyone on the planet knows you’re good. But if you want to be great—if you want to be what this team needs—you have to start acting like it.”

Azzi scoffed, her frustration bubbling over. “Are you kidding me? I work my ass off every single day. I’m in the gym just as much as you are—probably more.”

Paige shrugged, not bothered by that last comment knowing it wasn’t true. “It doesn’t matter how much you work if you don’t carry it with you onto the court. Until you start playing like you know you’re the second-best player on this team, it’s not going to mean anything.”

“Second best,” Azzi repeated, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Wow, what an honor.”

“Exactly,” Paige said, her eyes narrowing. “You don’t agree. You need to own that. Play like it. Make everyone feel it.”

Azzi shook her head, incredulous. “Just because I don’t have a giant ego like you doesn’t mean I don’t think I’m the best.”

“I don’t have an ego,” Paige said. “I just know what this team needs.”

Azzi stepped closer, her voice rising slightly. “Oh, you mean they need another uptight, self-centered recruit who thinks they have all the answers?”

Paige’s jaw tightened, but she kept her voice calm. “No, they need the top recruit they just got to stop being passive and start leading. They need someone who plays like they know they’re the best so the rest of the team can feed off of it.”

Azzi let out a bitter laugh. “So... basically an asshole?”

Paige exhaled sharply, clearly done with the conversation. She shook her head and turned back to the scavenger hunt, muttering, “You don’t get it.”

“No, I don’t,” Azzi shot back, her tone challenging. “And you know what? You don’t get me either. You think you’ve got me all figured out, like I’m some shy, passive player who’s too scared to take charge. But you don’t know the first thing about me Paige.”

Paige stopped walking, spinning around to face Azzi. “And you think you know me? You think I’m just some uptight ass self-absorbed player who doesn’t care about anyone else? I just have my own shit to deal with. Not everything is about you.”

Azzi bristled at the words, her voice dropping to a quieter but still heated tone. “I never said it was about me. But you could at least try to make me feel like I’m part of this team instead of treating me like an outsider.”

Paige’s expression softened for just a moment, but she quickly masked it with a shrug. “Maybe stop acting like one.”

Azzi stared at her, her frustration mixing with hurt. “You really think I’m not trying?”

Paige didn’t answer right away, her eyes flicking back to the scavenger hunt paper. “No that’s not what I said, I think you’re holding yourself back. And this team doesn’t have time for that.”

Azzi shook her head, biting back a retort. They resumed walking, the silence between them now heavier than before. Paige stayed focused on the clues, while Azzi followed a step behind, her mind racing with everything they had just said—and left unsaid.

After a stretch of silence, the tension between them still hung heavy in the air. Azzi walked a step behind Paige, her frustration simmering beneath the surface as Paige stayed focused on the scavenger hunt paper, seemingly unaffected.

Finally, Paige slowed her steps, glancing over her shoulder. Her voice was quieter this time but still firm. “Azzi… I don’t not like you. Seriously.”

Azzi looked up, startled by the unexpected comment. “Could’ve fooled me,” she muttered.

Paige turned to face her, her expression unreadable. “You belong on this team. You wouldn’t be here if you didn’t. And yeah, you can be frustrating as hell and I definitely don’t agree with a lot of the things you say, but that doesn’t mean I don’t think you’re good. Doesn’t mean I don’t like you and I’m sorry if I made you think that.”

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by the blunt acknowledgment. She shifted her weight, her frustration tempered but not entirely gone. “Well, maybe if you didn’t act like I had something to prove all the time, I’d actually feel like I belonged.”

Paige exhaled sharply, shaking her head. “Pushing you is how I know you do belong. I wouldn’t waste my time talking to you if you didn’t.”

Azzi’s lips pressed into a thin line, but a flicker of understanding passed through her expression. “Fine,” she said after a beat, her tone quieter now. “But maybe try dialing it back a little. Just… once in a while. It’s tiring.”

Paige shrugged, a faint smile tugging at her lips.

Azzi rolled her eyes at the silence but didn’t press further. They resumed walking, the tension between them still lingering, but the weight of it had lessened—just enough to keep moving forward. Maybe Azzi would try her luck again at getting to know the blonde.

…

Later that night the team was gathered in one of the larger suites, the atmosphere buzzing with energy as conversations overlapped and laughter echoed through the space. Players lounged across couches and the carpeted floor, munching on snacks and joking around. It was one of the nightly bonding sessions the seniors insisted on, a tradition meant to bring the team closer as the season loomed.

Paige sat at one end of the couch, scrolling through her phone with a focused expression. Azzi, perched on the armrest opposite her, noticed how Paige’s grip on her phone tightened slightly, her jaw set in a way that betrayed her usual calm demeanor during times like this. Curiosity piqued, Azzi leaned subtly to get a glimpse of what Paige was reading. The headline immediately made her frown: “Paige Bueckers: Can She Handle the Pressure This Season?”

The article was harsh but clearly biased, questioning Paige’s ability to bounce back from the previous year’s challenges. Paige’s face betrayed nothing, but Azzi could feel the tension radiating from her as her jaw continued to tighten.

Without a word, Paige suddenly stood, catching everyone’s attention.

“Where are you going?” Nika asked from her spot on the floor, looking up with a raised brow.

“The gym,” Paige replied flatly.

A collective groan went around the room.

“Come on,” Christyn said, leaning back against the armrest of a chair. “We’re supposed to be bonding, not sneaking off to the gym again.”

“You’ve been there all day already,” Olivia added, shaking her head. “What’s left to work on?”

Paige crossed her arms, clearly unimpressed by the protests. “You don’t have to drag me out later I swear. I’ll be fine.”

Before anyone else could chime in, Azzi spoke up, her voice cutting through the noise. “I’ll go with her.”

The room fell silent, and all eyes turned to Azzi. Nika blinked, looking as though she misheard.

“Wait, what?” Aaliyah asked, tilting her head.

“Azzi, you good?” Christyn asked, confused about her voluntarily being around Paige.

Even Paige hesitated, glancing at Azzi with a mix of surprise and confusion. “You don’t have to—”

“It’s fine,” Azzi interrupted, her tone firm. “There’s some stuff we probably need to work on together anyway.”

Paige’s eyes narrowed slightly, as if trying to figure out Azzi’s angle, but she didn’t argue.

Nika glanced at Caroline, who sat beside her on the floor. “Am I the only one wondering what’s going on here?”

Caroline shrugged, looking equally curious. “Nope.”

“I mean, we’re all thinking it,” Dorka chimed in, earning a few quiet laughs.

Paige sighed, clearly ready to leave the scrutiny behind. “I’ll grab you some clothes,” she muttered, already heading toward her room.

Azzi stood, ignoring the murmurs and exchanged glances from the team. Aubrey, who had been quietly observing from the corner, gave her a small smile, the only one not visibly surprised.

As Azzi followed Paige out of the suite, Nika leaned toward Aaliyah, whispering just loud enough to be heard, “This is either going to end in a fistfight or... something we don’t want to know about.”

“Probably both,” Aaliyah replied with a smirk.

Azzi caught the comment but didn’t react having no idea what they were talking about.

…

Azzi and Paige had just finished an intense workout. They worked through it together in silence for the most part with the occasional high five or pay on the back. The gym was eerily quiet at this hour, with only the hum of the overhead lights and their heavy breaths filling the space. Both of them were seated on the floor, backs resting against the padded wall, their bodies dripping with sweat.

Paige let her head fall back for a moment, staring up at the ceiling before finally looking at Azzi. “Thanks,” she said, her voice softer than usual.

Azzi glanced over at her, slightly caught off guard. It wasn’t the thank-you that surprised her—it was the way Paige was actually looking at her. For the first time, there wasn’t a guarded or dismissive edge in her expression, just sincerity.

It threw Azzi off balance for a second, and without thinking, she blurted out, “Woah your eyes are blue.”

Paige raised an eyebrow, a small chuckle escaping her lips. “They sure are,” she said, amused.

Azzi shook her head, laughing at herself. “I just mean, I never noticed before,” she admitted. “Probably because you’re always glaring at me the few times you actually address me.”

Paige laughed again, the sound lighter than Azzi expected. “Yeah, I’m sorry about that. I know I can be... a bit much sometimes.”

Azzi shrugged, brushing it off.

They sat in comfortable silence for a beat before Azzi tapped her phone screen, the faint glow illuminating the time. “So, you wanna tell me why we’re in the gym at...” she squinted at the numbers, “1:47 a.m. on a Wednesday?”

Paige glanced at her, the corners of her mouth quirking up slightly. “I know why I’m here. You wanna tell me why you decided to join me?”

Azzi leaned her head back against the wall, smirking. “I knew they wouldn’t let you come if I didn’t. Plus, like I said earlier, there’s some things we need to work on.”

“Like what?” Paige asked, her curiosity piqued.

Azzi turned to face her more directly, her expression serious but still teasing. “Like you passing the ball where I’m going instead of where I am.”

Paige rolled her eyes, a playful scoff escaping her. “I’m a great passer.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow, her smirk growing. “And I’m the best shooter in the country. I move a lot. You need to figure out where I’m going to be, not just where I currently am.”

Paige blinked at her, processing the critique. Her lips twitched like she wanted to argue, but instead, she let out a small laugh, nodding slightly as she thought about it.

Azzi stood up, brushing off her shorts before grabbing the ball that sat nearby. She spun it in her hands and tilted her head toward the court. “Come on,” she said, motioning for Paige to follow her.

Paige smiled despite herself, pushing up from the floor. “Fine,” she said, her tone mock-defeated.

Azzi grinned. “Let’s see if you’re as great as you claim you are.”

Paige laughed, jogging after her toward the court, the tension between them starting to ease in the quiet rhythm of the game.

Paige and Azzi stood at the top of the key, the ball in Paige’s hands as Azzi explained what she’d meant earlier.

“You follow my eyes, just like everyone else,” Azzi said, dribbling the ball before passing it to Paige. “But my eyes don’t always tell you where I’m going. You’ve gotta look at my movements instead.”

Paige nodded slowly, absorbing the critique. She dribbled the ball once, then shifted her stance. “Alright,” she said, her voice intrigued. “Let’s run through it.”

They started with basic passes, Paige watching Azzi closely. Some were spot-on, hitting Azzi perfectly in stride. Others lagged slightly behind, forcing Azzi to pause or adjust.

“See?” Azzi said after one of those off passes, tossing the ball back to Paige. “You’re looking at where I am. You’ve gotta watch my hands.”

Paige tilted her head, brow furrowing. “Your hands?”

“Yeah,” Azzi said, holding them up. “My hands show you where I’m going to end up. Pay attention, and you’ll see it.”

Paige bounced the ball a couple of times, nodding. “Alright, let’s try again.”

They went through the drill several more times, Paige focusing on Azzi’s hands like she’d suggested. Slowly but surely, the passes started to click. Paige began to notice the subtle flicks of Azzi’s fingers or the way her hand angled before she cut. After a while, the passes were seamless, their movements flowing together effortlessly.

“See?” Azzi said, catching another perfect pass in stride. “Told you.”

Paige smirked, brushing a stray piece of hair from her face. “Guess you were right.”

“Always am,” Azzi teased, tossing the ball back.

The two of them had been running the same drill for what felt like forever. Paige’s passes were sharper now, landing perfectly in Azzi’s hands as she moved seamlessly through her cuts. The flow of their movements had become natural, like they’d been doing this together for years.

Azzi caught the ball mid-stride and jogged back to the top of the key, bouncing it casually. “You know it’s almost three, right?” she said, glancing at the clock.

Paige paused, hands resting on her hips. “They’re going to kill you for letting me stay this late,” she said, half-smirking. “You’re supposed to be the responsible one, remember?”

Azzi shrugged, her lips curving into a small smile. “They never said what time you had to leave,” she replied. “All they said was that it was supposed to be team bonding.” She held the ball out toward Paige. “I’d say we bonded a little bit. Plus,” she added, her smile widening, “we haven’t argued the whole time we’ve been here, so that’s a win.”

Paige chuckled, wiping the sweat from her forehead with the hem of her shirt. “Guess you’ve got a point.” She reached out and took the ball from Azzi. “And for the record, I wouldn’t call you responsible. You’re just as bad as me for sticking around this long.”

Azzi laughed softly, leaning back against the padded wall at the baseline. “Maybe. But if you didn’t notice, I’m not the one who dragged us here in the middle of the night.”

Paige shot her a playful glare, bouncing the ball a couple of times. “Fair enough. But you didn’t exactly put up a fight about it either.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “Because I saw how tense you were and someone had to make sure you didn’t overdo it. Like I said—team bonding.”

Paige shook her head, laughing under her breath as she lined up a shot. The ball arced perfectly through the air, swishing cleanly through the net. “Fine,” she said, turning to Azzi. “But if they ask, this was your idea.”

Azzi rolled her eyes, pushing off the wall. “Yeah, sure. I’m sure they’ll believe that.” She walked over and retrieved the ball, tossing it back to Paige.

For a moment, they stood there in the quiet gym, the weight of the night settling between them. Paige glanced at Azzi, a hint of gratitude in her expression. “Thanks, by the way. For coming with me.”

Azzi shrugged, though her smile softened. “Don’t mention it.”

Paige held the ball, debating for a second. Then she smirked. “One more run?”

Azzi sighed, shaking her head with a chuckle. “Fine. But only one more.”

“Promise,” Paige said, already moving to her spot.

Azzi jogged to hers, the exhaustion fading as they fell back into the rhythm they’d built over the past few hours. It was definitely more than one run through.

#pazzi #paige x azzi #pazzi fics

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thewritingrowlet · 3 months ago

Text

The Crazy Lesbians pt. 1, ft. tripleS Sohyun, Xinyu

tags: creampie, anal, strap-on, threesome—just read the damn thing, please.

length: 7k+

author's note: I know I'm late, so please don't yell at me. Also, I apologize in advance if it's too messy; I was trying to get this out as soon as possible.

edit: took me a few hours to realize that I forgot to credit @dreamcatchers-husband for the idea, so sorry and thanks. <3

“Yes, yes, baby! Fuck, yes!”

Xinyu has always been so expressive in bed, taking the submissive role almost all the time to complement Sohyun’s dominant side.

“I-I’m about to cum, baby,” Xinyu announces breathily. “Please keep going—p-please, I’m so close.”

Sohyun grits her teeth as she moves her hips as fast as possible, impatient to make her girlfriend cum. She finally gets what she’s wishing for: Xinyu screams very loudly when orgasm hits her hard. Usually, she’d stay inside and wait for the wave of ecstasy to die down, but today, she immediately pulls out. “T-thank you; I-I’ve been desperate for that,” Xinyu expresses her gratitude. “I love you, baby.” “I love you too, sweetie.”

Xinyu demands a cuddle, so Sohyun pulls her in for one. “Are you okay, baby? You’re thinking about something, aren’t you?” “I’m fine, sweetie,” Sohyun deflects with a smile on her face, “just had some thoughts but nothing serious.” “You can talk to me about your worries, you know; we’re in this together.” “I know, but trust me, I’m fine.” Xinyu presses her face against Sohyun’s chest. “If you say so,” she lets out a yawn, “thank you for today, baby.”

Once Xinyu goes silent, the thoughts in Sohyun’s head start running rampant. Xinyu is clueless that Sohyun has been longing for something more in bed; something that can please her in different ways, because as much as she hates to admit it, she’s getting tired of being the pleaser and would do anything as long as someone would take care of her, the same way she’s been taking care of Xinyu. Not only that but using a fake penis during sex just doesn’t feel… alive.

“Do I need a man?” Different variations of this question have been clouding her mind recently. The problem with that, however, is that everyone at campus knows her as a lesbian—how could she possibly get close enough to a man for him to get in her pants, especially since she’s in a relationship (with another woman, at that)? She’d like to think about this further, but time isn’t her friend right now; she has to go to sleep very soon, or she’ll miss the first class tomorrow.

A gay woman is a man’s best friend.

You’ve known Sohyun since the first day of high school, and the fact that she has come out as gay has made it so much easier for you to hang out with her, because neither of you needs to worry about falling in love with each other, thus enabling you to talk about a bunch of topics about relationships and love affairs freely.

Over yonder, you see Sohyun walking alone while her gaze is aimed at the ground, as per usual—at least, that’s what someone who’s not close to her would think, but you’re not that kind of person; there are always subtle differences in her gestures whenever her mind or body isn’t at peace, and you’ve learned how to pick it up over the years.

“Yo, hello,” you greet Sohyun, who seems to be very exhausted. “You okay?” She shakes her head. “I couldn’t sleep last night.” You ask if she wants to talk about it, and she beams for a second before her face tenses again. “Not now, but let’s have lunch together—maybe we can talk then.” You accept her invitation without thinking twice. “Sure, see you later, then.”

Sohyun arrives in the packed classroom shortly after parting ways with you. She pulls out her laptop from the bag and gets ready for class, but no matter how hard she’s trying to get her mind to focus, it keeps popping out different questions and topics to discuss with you, her friend of over 5 years at this point.

“Fuck, can’t I just skip this class?” Her heart races as she contemplates while her eyes scan her surroundings, from where her classmates are to the big door that the professor will enter from. Sohyun isn’t a fan of skipping classes, especially the important ones, but she simply isn’t in the right head space for this. “Ah, fuck it, I’m fucking leaving.” She closes the lid of her laptop again and carries it in her hand out of the classroom, not giving a piss whether someone is talking behind her back—Sohyun is an adult; she can make these decisions for and by herself.

Sohyun rushes towards the student council’s office space where she presumes you are, mixing her fast steps with short bursts of jogs. Once she arrives, she peeks through the tinted glass door to look for you, and when she sees that you’re sitting alone, she enters the room right away, not bothering to knock.

“Changmin-ah,” she calls to you, “c-can we talk?” You almost threw your phone thanks to the shock. “Goodness me, Sohyun-ah—you couldn’t fucking knock?” She sets her belongings at the desk in front of you. “P-please, Changmin-ah,” she begs, “I need your help.” “Okay, okay, sure—my God, what’s so pressing?”

Sohyun grabs an empty chair and sits on it after setting it next to you. “I need help with Xinyu,” she begins. “What about her? You want to surprise her or something?” She shakes her head. “I-I need help with bedroom stuff.” Your eyes blink in confusion. “Bedroom stuff? What are you on about?” Sohyun takes a deep breath before continuing. “Sex has been dull recently, Changmin-ah, and I’m desperate for something more.” “Okay, go on.” You see her biting her lip, visibly hesitant to speak her mind. “Ah, fuck it,” she says, “can we have sex?”

Her question stuns you for a few different reasons; she is gay and has a girlfriend—why would she want to have sex with you, a regular, straight guy?

“Say it again?” “Can we have sex, Changmin-ah? I-I want to remember what it’s like to do it with a man.” “Isn’t that cheating, though?” Sohyun shakes her head. “I-it would be cheating if I had sex with another woman, but you’re a man,” she reasons. You’re not sure if that’s the most logical reason (or the most convincing), but she seems serious about this.

You place a palm on your forehead as you think about it. “Please, Changmin-ah; I’ll make sure it’s worth your while.” You chuckle. “Worth my while? When’s the last time you had sex with a guy, by the way?” “F-five years ago,” she says in a quiet voice, and you swear that she’s about to cry.

You take her hands in yours. “Sohyun-ah, listen to me,” you say, “it’s not that I don’t want to help you, but how would having sex with someone that you’re not into help with your own sex life?” “I don’t know,” she says tearily, “I-I just wanted to see how it’d feel.”

While she’s busy sobbing, you’re busy pondering. “Alright, hear me out,” you break the silence. “Let’s do it; let’s have sex, and then you can tell me what you think about it.” Sohyun looks at you with her weepy eyes. “A-are you sure?” “You seem serious about it, so let’s do this.” She wipes the tears off her cheeks. “W-what’s the catch?” You say to her that the only condition is that no one—including Xinyu—can hear about this, which she agrees to. “Can I ask where Xinyu is first?” Sohyun tells you that Xinyu is at her campus and won’t be home until evening. “Are we doing it at my place, then?” You shake your head. “No, mine; can’t risk Xinyu suddenly arriving and catching us red-handed, can we?”

“Come in, make yourself at home,” you guide Sohyun into your apartment. “Wow, nice place, Changmin-ah,” her eyes roam around the interior, taking in the sights of your unit. You invite her to sit on the sofa in front of the TV. “Until we’re done today, Sohyun-ah, I will act as if you were my girlfriend; I will talk to you softly and call you by pet names—would that be okay with you?”

Her heart starts racing. The prospect of getting a soft treatment (from a man, nonetheless) makes her both excited and nervous; she’ll be dropping one side of her coin to make room for the other, one that hasn’t appeared since she started dating Xinyu.

“Can I have an answer, please?” Your question interrupts Sohyun’s train of thoughts. “Y-yes,” she says, “please take care of me.” You put on a kind and loving smile for her. “I love you, sweetheart,” you kick off the girlfriend-boyfriend play. “I-I love you too, babe,” she replies, and she can feel her cheeks getting hot.

You pull Sohyun by her hands until she’s seated on your lap. “I bet you don’t do this ever.” “No, never—if anything, Xinyu usually sits on my lap.” “It’s nice to change every now and then, isn’t it?” Sohyun nods shyly. “Never thought I’d be with a man again, but here I am.” “I’ll make sure it’s worth your while, sweetheart,” you use her words against herself, making Sohyun look away to hide her hot cheeks behind her thick hair. “Oh, please don’t say it like that,” she says. You start massaging her forearm gently. “I’ll take care of you, though—I promise you that.”

Over her head, you can see the clock that’s hanging over your TV, and you’re reminded about something. “Sweetie, have you had breakfast?” Sohyun shakes her head. “Would you like to order something, then?” Sohyun nods timidly. You hand your phone over to her, letting her order whatever she wants. “Just make sure to order for me as well, okay?” She fiddles with your phone a little before handing it back to you. “I ordered some iced latte and toast for us, babe.”

Despite your best efforts to suppress your excitement, your lips still form a smile when Sohyun refers to you by that name. “Sorry, I don’t know why I’m so excited about it—I mean, you’re someone else’s,” you say. Sohyun gives you a peck on the lips. “Whoever gets in a relationship with you will be so happy,” she comments. “I can tell that you’d be such a good boyfriend.”

Initially, you’re grinning, but the way she’s frowning erases it right off your face. “I’m such a bad girlfriend for Xinyu, aren’t I? I convinced her to get in a relationship with me in this society, but here I am, running away with a guy.” “Is she only into women, or?” Sohyun says that Xinyu plays for both sides, which you think is unfair because she’s undeniably very attractive.

You stay silent, trying to stitch together a reply that’s both sensible and comforting, and it goes a little bit like this: “first of all, I’d like to praise you for being so daring and challenging the norms of society in the name of love,” you start. “As for being a good or bad girlfriend, I don’t think you’re a bad person in your relationship.” Sohyun chuckles. “You didn’t even address the running away with a guy part.” You want to open your mouth, but she manages to get her piece off first. “Thanks, though; I know you tried giving me an assuring answer, so you’re getting an A-minus for your efforts.”

Your doorbell rings—food must be here. You say to Sohyun that you’ll be picking up the food, but she doesn’t budge, comfortably sitting still in your lap. “Don’t scream, okay?” “What do—ah!” You lift her by her thighs and carry her to the door. “Wait, wait, I’m heavy; please put me down.” You peck her on the cheek. “Honestly, you’re not heavy at all,” you say.

You grab the bag of food and make your way back to the sofa with Sohyun in your embrace. “Let’s eat, sweetie.” You expect her to pull away from the embrace, but no, she doesn’t budge one more time—she even tightens her arms that are wrapped around your nape. “Let’s stay like this; I want to savor this moment,” she says.

You reach around her body and grab a toast and a latte from the bag. “I’ll feed you, sweetie; open your mouth.” Sohyun takes a bite of the toast that’s in your hand. She then chases it with a sip of latte that’s in your other hand. “Oh, yeah, that’s good,” she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, “thanks, babe.” “Gladly, my love.”

Sohyun is feeling odd; her cheeks are very hot, and her stomach is full of butterflies. She hasn’t allowed any man to make her feel like this in years, and within less than an hour of hanging out with you privately and pretending to be your girlfriend, she’s starting to think that maybe there are kind and loving men out there who deserve consideration.

“You alright, Sohyun-ah?” You ask to make sure her mind is still with you. “That’s not my name, is it?” You’ve known her all this time, but only now do you notice how pretty her eyes are from this close of a distance. Your hand, as if capable of thinking independently, moves towards her face, stroking her soft cheek like she was yours. “Respectfully, sweetie, I think you’re very beautiful.” “You’re kind of cute yourself,” she whispers. You chuckle. “Kind of, hey? Sure, I’ll take it” Sohyun presses her forehead against your lips, “forcing” you to kiss her there. “I don’t know how you’re still single—these girls are missing out,” she says. “Eh, you know, I’ve just been so busy with myself; getting into a relationship doesn’t sound like a good idea at the moment.”

Sohyun places her hands on either side of your face. “What about getting in my pants? Does that sound like a good idea?” You scan her face to gauge her seriousness. “I’ll do it if you’d let me.” Sohyun grins. “Take care of me, please.”

On the way to the bedroom with Sohyun still in your arms, you barrage her face with pecks, mixing it with quick kisses occasionally. Even after you’ve arrived in the bedroom, the two of you still don’t stop. “Please, babe,” Sohyun is the first to crack, “can we start already?”

You take a seat on the edge of the bed, thinking that you still have a few things to address first. “Sweetheart, before we begin,” you say, “let’s talk about some stuff.” Sohyun bites her bottom lip (nervously, not sexily). “Let’s begin with the elephant in the fridge: you’re a gay woman, and I’m a man. Aside from that, you’re in a relationship with someone else. Are you sure you want to do this?” You hope that Sohyun was listening carefully to your little monologue (and managed to catch the little joke).

Sohyun stays quiet, which makes you feel like you need to provide a reason as to why you’re bringing up such topic. “Sweetheart, I just don’t want you to regret this later,” you say. She takes a deep breath. “I know, and I still want to do it with you.” “Well, lucky for you, I have some condoms.” She taps your nape with her finger to get your attention. “Actually, I was thinking about not using that,” she says, “n-no one else would be getting between my legs anyway.” You peck her on the lips as a sign of agreement. “As you wish, sweetie.”

You notice that Sohyun’s breathing is speeding up as you’re unbuttoning her shirt. “Are you okay? Do you want to change your mind?” “I-I’m fine; please continue.” You know that she has quite the sizable breasts, but you’ve never seen them this close and bare before. “Y-you like them?” You nod. “Yes, I do, sweetheart.” She then gives you permission to touch them, so you do just that. “My, your girlfriend must love your breasts so much,” you comment. Sohyun wants to say something, but a gasp escapes her lips, interrupting her. “S-she does—s-she always put them in her mouth.”

You reach around to unlatch her bra, but after thinking again, you decide to let it stay on; something about Sohyun in a shirt makes you very aroused, and you’d like to have her stay partially dressed like this. “You’re insanely hot, you know? God, you’re fucking amazing.” Your whispered words make the entirety of her body hot, and Sohyun can’t help but wonder if this is what being with a man is like. “Xinyu would go crazy with this guy,” she thinks.

“B-babe,” she calls to you, “w-would you be down to have a threesome with us one day?” “You and Xinyu?” Sohyun nods. “I-I feel like you’d t-take care of us so fucking well.” You peck her on the chest, right above her cleavage, before answering. “I’ll do it if you both agree to.” She places her cheek right against yours. “If you do well today, I promise I’ll bring Xinyu to you,” she whispers, and you can feel your arousal peaking at the prospect of having sex with two very hot women at once. “I will do my best, sweetheart.”

Sohyun gets off your lap to take off her jeans and panties. “Show me,” she says, “show me what you can do, babe.” You place a hand on her crotch, finding out that she is so wet already. “You’re excited to see me, aren’t you, sweetie?” The way her breathy moan hits your face is very arousing. “We’ll be having so much sex today, so I hope you can keep up,” you say, teasing her. “F-fuck me, baby,” she urges you, “let’s forget about everything else—today is ours.” You never thought you’d hear such words from her, but here you are. “Damn right.”

Sohyun slowly lowers herself onto your cock, promptly gasping and moaning because of the sensation that has been forgotten to her. “Fuck, Xinyu, I’m so sorry, baby.” She still has the head space to think about her girlfriend who’s doing God-knows-what at campus right now. It is when your lips hit hers that her thoughts are interrupted. She lets out small moans every time the kiss is broken while her hips are busy bouncing along your shaft.

“You like this, baby?” You whisper those words for extra arousal factor. “Yes,” she whispers back, “I feel alive, baby.” You’re not sure initially what she’s saying, but you guess that she’s probably has had so much sex with a dildo (which is a dead object, obviously), while you’re very much alive. “I-I don’t think I can last long like this, babe,” she adds.

You want to latch your lips onto her neck that’s right in front of your mouth, so you ask first. “Can I mark you, baby?” “N-no, b-but I’ll mark you,” she replies. You let out a deep exhale when you feel her wet lips on the side of your neck, and in response, you make her bounce faster on your cock. “C’mon, baby; let’s cum together, ‘kay?” Based on the little nibble, you estimate that Sohyun likes that idea.

“Baby, I’m about to cum," you announce after what feels like forever. “Oh, yes, me too,” she locks her gaze with yours, “make me cum, please.” Since she’s asking so nicely, you decide to cooperate by thrusting your cock upwards, thus filling your bedroom with clapping sounds on top of the moans that she’s letting out. Sohyun seems to be enjoying this too, as proven by how her eyes keep rolling towards the back of her head.

The way your cock is twitching in her pussy serves as a warning for you. “Babe, get off,” you say, “I’m about to cum.” Seeing that she’s still fucking herself on your cock makes you think that she didn’t hear it. “Babe, please, I’m about to cum,” you repeat. “J-just give it to me,” Sohyun finally responds. “Fill me, baby.”

Having been shown the green light, you pick up the pace again after slowing down moments ago. Finally, with a grunt, semen comes out of your shaft in abundance, filling her like she asked you to. “That’s so warm,” she comments. “D-did you cum too?” Your voice is rather breathy thanks to the orgasm. “I-I don’t think so,” Sohyun says, and admittedly, you’re disappointed in yourself for failing to make her cum. “I’m sorry, baby.” She laughs out loud. “What for? Because I didn’t cum?” She laughs again when she sees you nodding. “Please, it’s good enough as a start—don’t be too hard on yourself, babe.”

Sohyun lifts herself off your lap, letting some excess semen drip onto the floor. “Oops, sorry, babe.” You chuckle. “I’ll clean it up later.” She holds your chin and moves it upwards for a kiss. “Thank you, but I have something to ask.” “Yeah, ask away.”

Sohyun moves her head oddly close to your face. “Can you fuck Xinyu too?” You’ve talked about this before, but that conversation was clouded by horniness. Now that she’s asking again, however, you’re having second thoughts. “Babe, listen,” she hasn’t dropped the name yet, “Xinyu deserves to be this happy as well, you know.” “I mean, if you really want to, then sure.” Sohyun smiles in satisfaction. “Thanks, babe—I owe you.”

As soon as Sohyun enters her apartment, Xinyu comes running towards her with teary eyes. “Babe, you didn’t pick up the phone—where were you?" “Sorry, I was a bit busy, baby,” Sohyun deflects, because in reality, she was at the pharmacy to get some morning after pills. Xinyu, gullible as ever, believes what she just heard and simply comes in for a hug. “I’m glad you made it home.” “I’m glad to be home too, baby.”

Xinyu drags Sohyun to the dining table where she has prepared some fried chicken for dinner. “I got a coupon from my previous purchases, so we’re having fried chicken today,” she says. “Of course, babe,” Sohyun says, “let’s eat then.”

As Sohyun is chewing her bite, her mind goes back to this morning, and she finds herself comparing Xinyu to you. Xinyu is doing her best to take care of her girlfriend, but it’s not quite the same as the way you did it—there’s something about your ways that’s different but indescribable.

“You’re thinking about something again,” Xinyu manages to catch on. After sighing, Sohyun decides to speak plainly. “Babe, are you still interested in guys?” The question makes Xinyu nervous. “I-I don’t know,” she says, “I-I’m not leaving you for a guy, though—cross my heart.”

Sohyun proceeds to ask if Xinyu would be down to have a one-night stand with her and a guy. “A guy? Who?” “Changmin-ie,” Sohyun mentions your name casually. “B-but why do we need him? A-are you bored of me, perhaps?” Sohyun reaches for Xinyu’s hands. “I’m not bored of you, babe—I was just thinking if maybe we can spice things up for ourselves.” Sohyun knows that the only reason she’s thinking about “spicing things up” is because of boredom, and she seriously hope that Xinyu won’t give her too much trouble and interrogate her further.

“Fine, I’ll fuck him—I’ll do it for you,” Xinyu says. Sohyun shakes her head. “You’re not doing this for me, babe; you’re doing this for us. I swear you’ll thank me later.”

The bell of your door rings, and when you open it, you see Sohyun and Xinyu. “Can I help you, ladies?” Sohyun pinches your stomach lightly. “You and your words, babe.” Your eyes widen in shock, concerned about how she’s referring to you by that name in front of her girlfriend. “Oh, erm, welcome,” you step aside to let them in.

The two ladies enter your apartment while holding hands. “That’s cute,” you think. “Do you girls want some water—some soda, perhaps?” Sohyun asks if you have diet coke, which you do, coincidentally. “I’ll take that, please.” “What about you Xinyu-yah?” Xinyu says she’d like to also have a can of diet coke, so you grab one more for her.

You hand each girl a can of diet coke. “So, to what do I owe this pleasure?” “Oh, c’mon, don’t act stupid like that, babe,” Sohyun just won’t stop saying that name, and you can feel your heartbeat getting faster. “So-Sohyun-ah,” you’re getting nervous, “erm, are you sure you can call me that?” Sohyun looks at Xinyu quickly before turning back to you. “Yeah, I can—what, you scared of her?” You scratch your head. “Not scared necessarily, but I am concerned.”

As Sohyun is about to open her mouth, Xinyu speaks first. “I was told that you guys had some fun when I was at campus this Tuesday,” she says. You take a few deep breaths to calm your heart and mind. “Yes,” you admit plainly, “Sohyun-ie asked me if she could have sex with me, so we did.” “Did you like it?” “I did; I did my best, but I didn’t make her cum.” She clicks her tongue in mockery for your failure.

Out of nowhere, Xinyu slams her can of coke on the table and then sits on your lap. “You tried stealing my girlfriend from me and somehow managed to fail miserably—fuck you, you asshole,” she insults. “Xinyu-yah, I—” “Bad!” Sohyun yells out, scolding Xinyu for her bad behavior. “That’s not how you speak to him, Zhou Xinyu; he’s one of the good ones.”

Much to your surprise, Xinyu gets off your lap and kneels on the floor. “I-I’m sorry, I-I don’t know what got into me.” She gets visibly even more nervous when Sohyun suddenly stands so close next to her. “What happened to your manners, Miss Zhou, hm?” “I-I’m sorry—please, I’m so sorry.” Xinyu places a hand on your knee, begging to be saved from Sohyun’s anger. You try convincing Sohyun that you’re not offended nor is Xinyu being naughty, but she’s not entirely convinced. “We’re punishing her in the bedroom,” Sohyun says, her tone resolute.

Sohyun drags her girlfriend towards your bedroom while you’re still sitting on the sofa, stunned by the sight that just happened in front of your eyes. “Oi,” Sohyun steals your attention, “did you not hear what I said?” “Yeah, yeah, one second.” You shake your head rapidly to clear your mind before walking to your bedroom to join them.

When you enter, Xinyu is on her knees on the floor while Sohyun is standing in front of her with her arms crossed. “In case you forgot, Xinyu-yah, Changmin-ie over here is my best friend; even though our relationship has been a platonic one, I’ve found myself relying on him for a bunch of things. Not only that, but he’s also been supportive of our same-sex relationship—did you catch all that?” “Y-yes, mommy.” You want to poke a finger into your ears to see if maybe you heard that wrong. “I-I’m sorry, mommy; I-I was wrong to lash out like that.” Nope, you didn’t hear that wrong.

You stand between Sohyun and Xinyu, pushing her backwards to give Xinyu some space to breathe. “Sohyun-ah, calm down, please—I’m okay, you know.” “But she wasn’t behaving well,” she counters. “It’s understandable, don’t you think? We did have sex behind her back." Sohyun lets her arms fall freely and lets out a deep sigh. “This is what I meant when I said I wanted to be taken care of,” she says, “I’m tired of running around taking care of people and being responsible for them.”

When you look behind you, you see that Xinyu is looking at the two of you with a neutral face. Facing forwards again, you slowly put your arms around Sohyun’s body. “It’s okay, I understand; I’m sure it’s been exhausting for you to take on this role,” you say softly right into her ear. “Thanks, babe—it’s been great to have you as a friend.” It’s funny to hear her call you “babe” but say “friend” in the same sentence, but she’s right; Sohyun is still into women possibly until the end—unless she somehow becomes straight again—and your relationship with her is a platonic one.

You pull away from the hug so that you can turn your attention to Xinyu. You take a knee in front of her, getting to her eye level. “Hi, there,” you say, “how much did she tell you about what we did?” “I-I heard that the two of you pretended to be boyfriend and girlfriend.” You put on a smile for her. “That’s right, so can I talk to you like you were my girlfriend too?” Xinyu nods a little. “Great,” you say, “stand up, please, sweetheart.” Once she’s on her feet, you pull her in for a hug, the same way you did with Sohyun. “Sohyun-ie loves you so much, you know that? She goes against the norms so that she can be with you, sweetie.” Xinyu places her forehead on your shoulder. “I know,” her voice is almost too quiet to reach your ear. “I love her so much too, Changmin-ah,” she adds.

As soon as you get out of the way, the two women rush towards each other for a hug, much to your delight. Not only that, but they also start apologizing to each other and exchanging promises to be better as active participants in their relationship. “Love is in the air—let’s go!” You exclaim, getting excited on their behalf.

They break their hug and pull you into a three-way hug. “I’m so happy for you guys,” you say. “I must say, though, you need to stop playing for both sides if you can help it, Xinyu-yah; I’d love to have a girlfriend as well, you know.” The two girls laugh at the same time. “Hey, we can be your girlfriends on our free time,” Sohyun says. It’s now your turn to laugh. “Yeah, I don’t know if that’s a good idea.”

You take a seat on the edge of your bed. “So, we’re not going to punish anyone, are we?” Xinyu looks at Sohyun nervously, but Sohyun is quick to shake her head to clear things up. “We’re going to have sex later, if that’s okay,” she says. “Can we buy some food first?” You pull out your phone from your pocket and throw it to Sohyun, with whom you’re used to throwing and catching phones. “Go order something, I’ll pay.”

Sohyun and Xinyu scroll up and down on your phone to find something to buy, and before long, your phone is back in your hands again. You lie down in bed and are joined by the girls right after; Xinyu spoons Sohyun, and Sohyun hugs you from the side. “We look like sardines, don’t you think—or kittens, perhaps?” Xinyu giggles. “What kitten have you seen is this tall?” “Yeah, where did you get your height from, by the way?” “My parents are average height, but the mailman is tall.” You didn’t expect Xinyu to have this sort of joke in her bag, and you (Sohyun, too) can’t help but burst out laughing. “What the f—what do you mean mailman?”

Sohyun immediately starts touching Xinyu after getting back in your bedroom, ignoring your presence in the room. “Girls, it’s only 1—what are you doing?” Sohyun, who’s mounting her girlfriend, turns her head to look at you. “What the hell does it look like?” You take a seat on the stool near your computer desk. “Alright, I hope you don’t mind me watching, then.” “Not at all—we’ll show you how we do things,” she says before returning to the task at hand.

Xinyu, without being told, takes off her T-shirt, revealing the lacy bra underneath, and you sincerely hope that she has matching panties on. “Touch me, mommy—touch me while daddy is watching.” Thinking that shit is about to hit the fan, you free your cock from its constraints and start stroking yourself. “You see that—daddy is horny for you, baby,” Sohyun points at you, “would you let daddy touch you?” “C-can daddy touch me like you do, mommy?” You can’t hear what Sohyun just whispered to her but based on the smirk on Sohyun’s face when she glances at you, it must’ve been a naughty one.

“M-mommy, I’m wet for you.” “I can tell, baby,” Sohyun replies, “you want to get fucked, don’t you?” Sohyun jumps off her girlfriend when she sees her nodding and makes her way towards the small backpack on the floor, and at the same time, Xinyu uses the chance to take off her jeans—you manage to catch the lacy panties right before they were discarded. “Which one do you want, baby?” “N-number two, m-mommy.” Sohyun fishes out a strap-on that you estimate is as big as your cock and puts it around her waist. “Watch us, Changmin-ah,” she says to you as she climbs into the bed again.

Xinyu lets out a loud moan when the fake dick enters her pussy. “F-fuck me, mommy—please, please, please.” Sohyun folds her girlfriend in half and starts fucking her fast right out the gate. “Fuck, I can’t take this anymore.” You approach Sohyun from behind and bend forwards until your mouth is right in front of her asshole. “Excuse me, ladies.” You start licking Sohyun’s rear while she’s busy smashing her girlfriend, and judging by how she’s moaning, you know that she’s into this type of thing.

Sohyun finally slows down after a few minutes as exhaustion starts to set in. You, noticing the change of pace, pull your tongue away from her rear. “B-babe,” she turns her head to the side to see you, “y-you’re insane—who taught you that?” “Wouldn’t you like to know,” you peck her on the back of the head, “did you like it?” “Y-yes,” she blushes, “please do that again later.”

Xinyu, feeling left out of the conversation, expresses her desire for attention. “M-mommy, d-daddy,” she calls to the two of you, “w-what happened?” You hug Sohyun from behind, positioning your head next to hers so that you can look at Xinyu. “I ate mommy’s ass, baby,” you say, “she liked that a lot, you know.” Xinyu gasps. “You’re insane, daddy—no wonder mommy came to you for help.” You smile naughtily. “It’s your turn next, okay?”

Sohyun calls a timeout, mentioning her exhaustion as a reason. “Fuck her, babe,” she whispers to you, “better yet, make her cum.” You take her position between Xinyu’s legs after she’s moved out of the way. “Do I have your consent, baby?” Xinyu nods enthusiastically. “Alright, here I go, then.”

If Sohyun was rough earlier, you take a softer approach this time, giving some nice and slow thrusts to Xinyu. “I love you, baby—I love you as much as mommy does.” You see that her eyes are tearing up. “I-I feel complete, daddy; you’re such a perfect fit for me and mommy.” You guess that this is her double-sidedness speaking, but it’s good to hear that she doesn’t hate you or anything. “I love you, baby,” you repeat.

As you’re starting to move again, you feel some odd sensation is an odd spot—Sohyun is returning the favor, eating your ass the same way you did her. “Oh, fuck,” you utter, “fuck, you two are going to make me pass out.” Xinyu places a hand on your cheek. “You’re happy, aren’t you, daddy?” “Very, baby,” you reply.

You keep delivering thrusts to Xinyu, using her moans as fuel to keep up the pace of your movements. Sohyun, on the other hand, has had enough of eating your ass, opting to sit on Xinyu’s face, thus putting extra pressure on the moaning, stuffed girl. “Are you sure she can take this?” “Yeah,” Sohyun answers, “I’ve sat on her face many times.”

So, here is how things are going: you’re fucking Xinyu while also tongue-wrestling with Sohyun, whose pussy is getting eaten by her girlfriend. A part of you wonders what your parents would think if they could see that their son is having this crazy of a threesome.

Sohyun suddenly pulls away from the kiss. “Fuck, I’m about to cum,” she announces. The way she’s moaning louder must mean that Xinyu is stimulating her more like the good girl she is. With a scream, Sohyun lifts herself off Xinyu a little bit and sprays juice right into her waiting mouth. “Oh, fuck, me too.” You pick up the pace to chase your orgasm, and when it hits, you lodge your entire length in Xinyu’s pussy and fill her from the other end.

Both you and Sohyun leave Xinyu at the same time, and you can see how messed up she is: her messy hair is all over the place, her mouth is full of Sohyun’s squirt, and your semen is leaking out of her pussy. “Fuck, we went hard on her,” you comment. Sohyun pets her girlfriend’s head softly. “Good job, baby—good fucking job,” she praises her, “I told you he’d help a lot, didn’t I?” Xinyu swallows the juice in her mouth and nods weakly. “Should we get cleaned up?” “I’ll go first—I’ll get a shower,” Sohyun says.

While Sohyun leaves to get cleaned up, you take care of the exhausted Xinyu. “Are you okay, baby?” Xinyu nods again. “M-mommy and daddy used me.” The way she’s phrasing it makes you wonder if it was too much for her. “I-I’m tired, daddy, b-but I also want more.” “Let’s rest for now, baby; we can think about going again later.”

“Oi, oi, oi, look at you, sleeping in each other’s arms like a couple,” Sohyun comments as she walks in the bedroom after showering. “Mommy,” Xinyu reaches out an arm, inviting Sohyun back to the bed. She moves to spoon her, squeezing Xinyu between you and herself. “I’m here, baby—are you okay? Are you tired?” “I want—” A yawn cuts her off. “I want one more, mommy.” Sohyun chuckles. “Aren’t you drained, though?” “N-no, I-I can take it.”

“Yah, wake up,” Sohyun slaps your thigh to wake you up. “Xinyu wants to go again.” “Huh? Yeah, sure.” You rub your eyes to get yourself together. “One second, please.” Sohyun reaches for your cock and starts stroking you to get it hard. “We don’t have a second,” she says.

Like magic (not really), your cock gets rock-hard in no time. “How do you want us, baby?” “I-I want to give mommy and daddy my virginity.” It’s obvious that she’s talking about her ass. “Is that so?” Sohyun looks at you with a naughty smile on her face. “Alright, I’ll take it, baby, and then we can give daddy a sloppy second—how does that sound?” “S-sounds great, mommy.”

Sohyun flips Xinyu onto her stomach. “Pass me that strap-on, daddy.” You throw it to her, and she wears it around her waist like earlier. She then covers it with her spit before lining it up towards Xinyu’s rear entrance. “Watch us, daddy.” You nod as you start stroking your cock mindlessly at the sight of these crazy lesbians.

Xinyu lets out a gasp when the tip of the rubber cock hits her asshole. “Please be gentle, mommy.” Sohyun simply nods, which isn’t very assuring, and moves her hips forwards, negotiating (or perhaps forcing) her way into Xinyu’s rear. “FUCK! FUCK! FUCK! MOMMY!” Xinyu’s screams are concerningly loud, and you sincerely pray that no one will file a noise complaint against you.

“Fuck, there we go, baby,” Sohyun’s strap-on is in Xinyu’s ass all the way, “you’re completely mine now, aren’t you?” “Y-yes, mommy,” her voice is partially absorbed by the pillow that her face is pressed against. Sohyun pulls Xinyu’s hips backwards until they’re up in the air. “I’ll start fucking you, baby.”

True to her words, Sohyun begins fucking her girlfriend’s virgin ass with reckless abandon, not giving a piss about how she’s screaming from the top of her lungs, straining her vocal cords like never before. “Fuck, this is crazy,” you mindlessly utter while still busy stroking yourself. Sohyun is slapping Xinyu’s ass as she goes too, adding more craziness to this whole thing. “Fuck, if only I could feel how tight you are, baby,” Sohyun comments. “But you’re a virgin here, so you must be very tight.”

Not too long after the first penetration, Xinyu announces with a yell that “her pussy is cumming” (odd phrasing, isn’t it), and true enough, juice begins spraying out of her pussy, splashing all over the bed and even the floor. Sohyun, thinking that her job is done, retreats from the forbidden hole, leaving it gaped and winking. Sohyun mounts her girlfriend’s butt and starts pecking the back of her head endlessly, expressing her gratefulness and adoration. “I love you, baby—I love you so, so, so much.” “I-I love you too, mommy,” Xinyu replies feebly.

You notice that you’re leaking precum from your tip, and because you don’t want to actually bust, you stop stroking your cock. “Do you girls need anything? Water, or towel, maybe?” “Water, lot of it; Xinyu needs it,” Sohyun says. You jog out of the bedroom and grab some bottled water for the ladies. “Here, here—have a sip.” Sohyun drinks half in mere seconds before passing it on to Xinyu, who finishes the rest.

Tomorrow is Saturday, and because no one has any classes, Sohyun and Xinyu decide to stay the night at your apartment.

“Good night, girls—I’ll be on the sofa if you need me.”

You crash onto the sofa, only now realizing how drained you are. It doesn’t seem like your day is ending just yet, though, as Sohyun is walking out of the bedroom to join you in the living room, taking her spot on your lap. “Yes, sweetie?” “Thank you, babe,” she says, “you helped a lot today.” You smile amidst the exhaustion. “I don’t want to take too much credit, but you’re welcome; I’m happy for the two of you.”

Sohyun comes in for a hug and quickly lets out a sigh. “I love you, and I love her,” she piles on. “I’m still not falling for a guy, though.” You chuckle. “I mean, it’s not like you have to.” She gives you a peck on the cheek. “Can’t believe I fucked Xinyu in the ass.” “Oh, believe me, it was a crazy fucking sight to watch—you had me wondering if you would’ve given me a turn.” Sohyun looks at you right in the eyes. “We have all day tomorrow, don’t we?” You nod, partially hopeful about continuing the fun tomorrow. “What do you have in mind?”

“Maybe I’ll let you fuck Xinyu in the ass tomorrow, and maybe, I’ll let you fuck me in the ass too.”

“Miss Park, you are one crazy lesbian.”

“You know it, and now you love me for it.”

#girl group smut #kpop smut #kpop fanfic #kpop fanfiction #male reader #male reader smut #smut #triples smut

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propertyofwicked · 10 months ago

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SECRETS part 3 - LN

lando x fewtrell!reader

no content warnings for this part ! :) (there is more fluff in this part, finally)

p.s i wrote half of this on a train that smelt so bad so if its bad we blame thameslink <3

previous part -> next part

masterlist the playlist

max decided he’d talk to his sister later, right now, he needed to focus on being there for lando. right now, they were sat in the mclaren garage, qualifiers underway and lando doing so well. even y/n started to believe she was a lucky charm. and indeed, lando now believed she was 100% his lucky charm.

the moment his post-qualifying responsibilities ended, he came bounding over to y/n and max, first taking max into what y/n could only describe as a bro hug, ending when he swiftly moved to embrace her, mumbling a chant of ‘thank yous’ in her ear. he caught max in an awkward stare, prompting him to let go of y/n.

“thank me? what for? that was all you lan,” she said, smiling up at him as she moved her arms to cross over her chest.

“thanks to my lucky charm,” he said to both of them, but smirking at y/n, “im starting 2nd on the grid tomorrow. strong start means a strong race,” he finished, still beaming from ear to ear.

“me and y/n are going out for some food in a bit if you wanna join mate,” max said, smiling back at his friend.

“yeah sounds good. ive got to shower, but i’ll swing by and pick you both up from your hotel at 5?”

“perfect, see you there mate.”

the drive back to the hotel was silent, y/n assumed her brother was tired, her brother was in fact thinking. more specifically, thinking about his sister and where she had been the night before. he tried to stop his mind wandering further and yet, images of his sister and best friend infiltrated his thoughts. max’s brain couldn’t stop dwelling on the way lando embraced his sister, how his hands gripped at her waist, and then he thought back to that night in monaco. the way his best friend stood behind y/n, his hands on her waist, her head rolled back onto his shoulder as they danced to the music. before he knew it, the fear and anger he thought had dissipated months ago, was bubbling back inside of him, his hands gripping the steering wheel to ground him from the feeling.

y/n noticed. of course she did. spending 20 years of your life around someone tends to give you the ability to read their every emotion - and this one was one that y/n was not too familiar with. max usually held his anger and sadness well, so the only times she’d seen this was in his earlier driving career when races didn’t go his way. she hoped so desperately he wasn’t angry with her, after all, nothing had happened, and as far as she was aware, nothing would happen.

by the time 5 o’clock came around, max had returned to his normal self, conversing with y/n normally. that’s a good sign, y/n thought to herself. and now, he was chatting to lando as he drove them to a restaurant outside of the town they were staying in. it was all going so well, max was calm, y/n and lando were friends again and nothing could ruin this moment.

“y/n, why is your lip balm in lando’s centre console?”

shit.

“oh i think it fell out the top of my bag when i climbed in the back,” she said panicked, her eyes quickly darting to lando, who was suddenly very interested in the road ahead. max seemed ok with her answer, humming with a quick nod before continuing his conversation with lando. y/n, however, was filled with a new wave of anxiety. why did she feel like this? she hadn’t even done anything? and yet, her mind was now plagued with guilt.

her hands came together, playing with her fingers and twisting her rings around to calm the anxious thoughts, a trait she’d had since childhood. lando glanced at her in his rear view mirror, seeing her facial expressions - her eyebrows furrowed and her mouth falling into a natural frown. he then spotted her hands. he tried to join her into the conversation, tried to distract her, but soon enough they were parked and walking into the restaurant. max chose to sit opposite his sister, leaving lando and y/n pushed together in the booth.

her foot tapped the floor, shaking her whole leg, as the boys talked, y/n chiming in occasionally.

“mum and dad are coming up tonight for the race tomorrow,” lando said to max, but his hand came to brush the side of y/n’s bouncing leg, his finger drawing small circles on her thigh, “they’re staying in your hotel i think.”

“good thing you did well today then isn’t it,” max replied, laughing slightly, “i can drive them to the track tomorrow morning if they want?”

“i’ll ask, im sure they’ll be glad. dad hates driving before my races, gets to nervous and forgets to indicate,” lando responds, joining max in laughing at the thought of adam norris forgetting how to drive.

“i’m just gonna run to the toilet, do either of you want a drink whilst im up?” max asked, pushing his chair back under the table as he stands. y/n nods, asking for another diet coke whilst lando declines, holding up his half full glass.

the moment max disappears from sight, lando takes y/n's hand in his, brushing his thumb up and down the back, her leg slowing its bouncing.

“what’s wrong?” he asks, quietly, sad eyes coming to meet hers.

“my lip balm lando. i don’t want to know the conclusions max will jump to, and i don’t want to be on the receiving end of his anger.”

“it’ll be fine, i promise. he’s got nothing to be angry about, we’ve done nothing wrong.”

“you didn’t see him earlier. i thought he was going to rip the steering wheel off.”

“we’ve done nothing wrong,” he repeats, “besides, you’re a grown woman who makes her own life decisions. fuck it if he has a problem.” y/n nodded in response. he had a point. she was a strong independent woman, she didn’t need her brothers permission to do anything.

for the rest of the evening, she re-joined conversations, feeling a new sense of confidence in herself that she had been lacking all weekend.

race day had approached quickly, y/n found herself sat in lando’s drivers room. max and lando’s parents had gone for a walk to grab some food, leaving the two of them alone. lando was pacing, his pre race nerves grew stronger every minute. quite frankly, y/n was sick of it - she sat back on the sofa, her eyes darting back and forth like the audience at a tennis match as she followed lando’s strides back and forth across the small room.

“lan?” she asked him, but he didn’t stop moving, and barely grunted to acknowledge that she’d spoken.

“lando? can you stop pacing? you’re making me dizzy,” she said with a sigh, and he finally came to a stop, and turned to look at her.

“sorry,” he said, smiling at her, as she stood up and walked towards him.

similar to last night, she took both of his hands in hers, pulling them to rest at the top of her chest. her eyes found his, staring directly into them.

“you nervous?”

“how could you tell?” he said, laughing slightly.

“you don’t need to be, you smashed qualis and you’ll smash this. besides, your lucky charm is here to save the day,” y/n said, adding a grin at the end of her sentence. the room fell into silence as he mulled her words over in his head. she was still looking at him, and he tried not to break the eye contact, but his eyes gradually dropped to look at her lips. she was still smiling at him, trying to calm him down the only way y/n knew how to. and she was still smiling at him when he leant down slightly, closing the gap between them even more.

“can i kiss you?” he asked slowly, as if to test the waters, the tension between them rising more than it ever had.

“i think that would be ok,” she said. he didn’t wait to join their lips together finally, pressing a soft kiss to her lips as his hands dropped from hers to fall and grip her waist softly. y/n’s hands moved to rest on the back of his neck, pulling him in closer, his tongue swiping her lower lip as her mouth parted to deepen the kiss.

he could’ve stayed in that moment forever, and he would’ve if a knock hadn’t interrupted the moment - y/n tensed up at the sound.

“lando are you ready? it’s time to get in the car.”

“uhh, yea. just give me a second,” he said, glancing down, first at y/n, panic leaving her shoulders as she established it wasn’t max, and then down to his fireproofs, readjusting the rest of his suit around his waist.

“we need you now, lando,” the voice said again, staying behind the door.

“we’ll continue this later,” he said pressing another kiss to her lips and her forehead, before walking to the door.

she grabbed her phone, her best friend was the only person she could trust to advise her now.

“well done lando, that’s p2,” lando’s race engineer announced through the radio, cheers erupting in the garage. y/n moved to cisca’s embrace, celebrating his win, after spending the entire race on the edge of their seats. the group, consisting of max, y/n and lando’s parents moved round to where lando’s car would pull in, excited to celebrate his podium with him.

when he was finally free from the cockpit, he moved to push his visor up, eyes darting around the crowd in hopes of spotting a familiar face. he spotted his mum first, and then the girl stood next to her. her smile could outshine the sun, he had thought to himself as he made great strides towards the group. lando reached over the low fencing, grabbing his mum into a tight embrace, her hand rubbing up and down his back supportively. when he stepped back and looked to his right, he saw y/n again. still smiling up at him. he would never get tired of seeing her smile.

his hands moved to her face, holding her jaw, eyes staring into hers. she couldn’t see his smile through his helmet, but she knew he was beaming. her own hands had risen to hold the sides of his helmet. he stared for a second longer before moving to pull her into an embrace tighter than his mums.

“my lucky charm,” he said to her, loud enough for a few people around her to hear.

“go get weighed and finish up. ill see you after,” she said as he pulled back, him nodding at her. just as he turned to celebrate with the rest of the team, she pulled him back.

“oh, and lando - im proud of you.” with that he left.

y/n turned to her side, looking at cisca, who was still smiling, an odd glint to her eyes. she then turned behind her, expecting to see her brother. but he wasn’t there.

“adam? where’s max?” she asked the man who had been stood next to max.

“he, um, he just left. didn’t say anything to me. he just kind of, walked off?” lando’s dad responded, looking as confused as she did.

this was not good. in fact, this was very bad.

★ ☆ ✦ ✧ ✩ ✶

tag list: @harrysdimple05 @scopeiguess @hiireadstuff @landosgirlxoxo @natt9598 @phantomxoxo @val-writes @secretgal66 @ririyulife @littlehoneyfreak @leclercdream

#lando norris #lando norris x reader #lando norris smut #lando x reader #lando smut #lando norris imagine #lando norris fanfic #formula 1 #mclaren f1 #mclaren #lando norris fluff #propertyofwicked #maxfewtrell #fewtrell!sister

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socaltickle5 · 3 months ago

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Not sure who amongst you tickling/kink friends needs to hear this right now…Please Reblog and comment if you feel inclined and agree! Maybe your interaction with this post will reach and help someone in need in our great Tickling Community!! At the very least, hopefully it will help warmly welcome any new/exploring community member!!

But, in a recent conversation with one of my favorite people from the tickling/kink community (who I care deeply about), she told me that she was a lurker for a long time because of fears and inhibitions she built up about immersing herself in the community and her tickling desires. Those fears were:

1- Of herself, and how she’d be perceived/desired within the community. From her attraction, to her laugh/smile, to her ticklishness and others, there was fears of how she was to be perceived.

2- The safety aspect and the general ‘stranger danger’

3- If there are actually any humans that she could have an organic connection she needs from a potential play partner within the community.

4- Just the myriad of unknown scenarios when entering a kink community.

5- Fear of rejection

I’m here to say all of that is okay! That’s human nature to find comfort and safety in protecting yourself from the unknown! You are validated in your feelings, and validated in any approach you take towards your participation level within the community! I myself was VERY overwhelmed with anxiety and shame and fear of the unknown! I felt a ton of shame and taboo about my tickling kink/Dom desires! I felt those feelings over a decade ago (when I first decided to participate), and those fears and inhibitions and anxieties will never be forgotten by me because of how real/deeply I felt them!! I felt all 5 of those fears I listed above!

But, I’m also here to say that I’ve personally never felt happier than when I took that leap! I had to put aside my inhibitions and fears! Our inner peace is everything, and I felt most balanced and proud of myself for allowing my desires to be explored! All of us GET the privilege of being DESERVING of our own happiness! And, with that comes the fact that we are all WORTHY of exploring our desires without shame!! There’s no right or wrong way to enter or approach the tickling community other than what works for YOU!

Through many messages on tumblr/fetlife/reddit and other kink social medias, I’ve been told endlessly over the years about these same scenarios/fears/inhibitions that are preventing someone from their own desires. I know many of my followers on here are struggling with those same feelings currently. YOU DO YOU! And, when you embrace your desires on your own time and at your own comfort level, I’m sure you’ll be proud of yourself as well! And, the best part is, the majority of this community will welcome you with open arms! I, for one, am happy to talk with anyone (no minors) if any of you need comfort, or just someone to talk about all of this with! I admittedly don’t have all the answers, but I am coming from a place of experience and shared feelings/concerns.

Please, always prioritize safety and vetting as well! You cannot allow your enthusiasm for play to mask 🚩 that pop up with potential partners! PROTECT YOURSELF!

To sum this all up, YOU ARE WORTHY OF YOUR OWN HAPPINESS. We cannot control or change the past! Nor can we worry about what we’ve missed out on. You’re the author of the next chapter of your own life, I encourage you to write it your own way with your inner peace and happiness as the focus of the plot!

#tickle content #tickletorture #tickle thoughts #tickle tickle #tickle #tickling #ticklish #tickle scenarios #extreme tickling

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lottins-only · 5 months ago

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I love you, it's ruining my life | Part III

pairing: Kylian x black!fem!Reader

warnings: some nsfw (?) content

word count: 6.9k

part one, part two

A/N: this one is a bit long 🫠 Thank you to those who read the first two parts, and to those who sent me sweet messages🙏🏾Inbox is open, so please do let me know your thoughts !! <3

III. December 2022

“What are those for?”

Y/N followed Ethan’s inquisitive gaze to the top of her tote bag . She quickly shoved down the bags of candy peeking out, trying to conceal their abundance. She knew she’d packed way too many, but more meant better options, she’d reasoned. Especially since the person they were meant for had the sweet tooth of a 5 year old.

“Oh, you know me, I always have to have snacks on me” She lied.

Ethan looked at her like she was a madman, then shook his head before turning his attention to his phone. They were sitting outside at a luxurious hotel that served as the base camp of the French National Team for the duration of the World Cup. With the final only a few days away, the FFF had organized a “fun day” for the players to unwind with their loved ones. There were bouncy castles and inflatable slides littered around the lawn for children, while the irresistible aroma of barbecue wafted through the air. Kylian was somewhere entertaining his niece and nephew, and was hanging out with his parents as well. Y/N and Ethan, introverts as they were, spent most of their time chilling on the lounge chairs drinking mojitos (Virgin mojitos for Ethan; he’d tried to convince her to let him have a try from her drink but she’d refused).

Y/N was enjoying herself. Truly savoring every moment. A one month-long, all-expenses-paid trip to watch her best friend play in the World Cup? She couldn’t have submitted her PTO request fast enough.

“It’s probably only going to be 2 weeks though” Kylian had said to her half- jokingly when he’d proposed the idea over the phone. He was referring to the “winner's curse”, the jinx that often saw past winners exit the tournament in the group stages. But against all odds, France was once again in the final of the World Cup.

She opened her phone, dismayed to find zero new messages from her boyfriend of 8 months, Lucas. They had met when she moved to Madrid straight after graduating from university. She’d found a job at a small public health non-profit, and Lucas had been one of the few people working there that was her age. They’d quickly struck up a friendship, and he’d immediately asked her out after he left that job a few years later. It was a no-brainer for Y/N to say yes. He was good looking, charming, and made her laugh. Besides, it was well past the time to move on from Kylian.

For his part, Kylian had been ecstatic when she’d returned to Europe. They had grown closer after both of their moves,�� despite the distance. They facetimed at least once a week, and it sort of became a tradition for Kylian to give her a quick call before games. They’d text regularly too, their conversations meandering from trivial topics to deep confessions. Once, she’d mentioned that she used “Study with me” YouTube videos for her study sessions, as it was a way to keep herself accountable.

“I could do that with you, you don’t need stupid youtube videos” he’d said confidently over the phone.

She’d laughed. “You can’t shut up for 2 minutes if your life depended on it, Ky”

“No, I can” he’d said seriously. “I want to, for you”

And so they’d formed another tradition. They’d sit silently on facetime for hours and hours, Y/N poring over her books and notes, and Kylian in his room alone doing god knows what. He’d check in on her every once in a while, always encouraging. She knew that he had a busy life and few precious hours to himself, so she was grateful that he’d decided to spend that time with her, doing something that had no immediate benefit to him whatsoever.

They’d opened up more about their love lives as well, as they’d promised to each other back in Monaco. She didn’t volunteer any information herself, because it was still a little weird, but she’d answer questions if he probed. It was a lot less easy for Kylian to hide things from her, thanks to his growing fame. She’d only have to scroll through her explore page on Instagram or go through gossip websites to find detailed information about any woman who so much as breathed next to him. He’d continued dating people after the breakup with Sophia, which had happened only a month after her visit in Monaco. But much to her relief, it was never serious with anyone. She’d once seen pictures of him in the stands at the Parc des Princes with a blonde actress, and that old feeling of jealousy had snuck up on her like it had never left. But just two weeks later, Kylian informed her that it was over.

She had mentioned Lucas to him pretty early on in the relationship. Like she expected, he’d made a bad joke out of it. Something about HR needing to be alerted. She’d reminded him, rather annoyed, that Lucas no longer worked at her workplace. He didn’t say anything after that, quickly changing the subject. One day, however, Lucas mentioned something that gave her pause.

“You know something crazy that happened to me today?” He’d laughed. They were lounging on her couch in her apartment, watching a movie. “Kylian Mbappe liked a picture of mine on Instagram, from like 6 years ago”

She’d furrowed her eyebrows. Lucas was a huge football fan, but Y/N still hadn’t mentioned her friendship with Kylian. It had only been a month of them seeing each other, and about 3 days after she’d told Kylian about him.

“Yeah, look” Lucas brought out his phone and showed her a screenshot. Sure enough, Kylian’s username was under a picture of Lucas’ dated December 2016. Lucas was a regular poster on Instagram, so Kylian must have scrolled far back to find that picture. She raised her eyebrows in surprise.

“I know right?” Lucas had said. “Funny thing is, it disappeared just a few seconds after I got the notification. So random.”

She imagined THE Kylian Mbappe in his bed late at night, lurking on Instagram, accidentally liking an old picture and then hurriedly unliking.

“Yeah” she had said, a smile tugging at her lips. “Random”

As Y/N’s thoughts drifted back to the present, she glanced at her phone again. Still empty. After a rocky couple weeks of arguments, Y/N and Lucas decided to go on a break. Lucas had grown distant and less affectionate. He was less present when they spent time together, and was generally making less effort in the relationship. It had been a punch to the gut when he’d forgotten her birthday two weeks ago. She hadn’t said anything; he’d only realized when he saw the huge bouquet of flowers from Kylian sitting on her dining table.

That was also another sore spot in their relationship; Lucas was not at all comfortable with her friendship with Kylian. He hadn’t mentioned it, and she had made a point to tone down the constant texting and calling as soon as they became official, but she could still see it in the way he behaved. The World Cup trip was the tipping point. She couldn’t blame him; Her male best friend, who was one of the most famous footballers in the world, was bankrolling a one month trip for her to watch him play on the world’s biggest stage. It would be a hit to the ego for any man. But frankly, she was tired. She was tired of him, and she wanted time away from him. And so the break began.

She did not miss him, if she was being honest with herself. Yet, she couldn’t help checking her phone to see if he’d reached out. Lucas was the only person she’d been seriously interested in, besides Kylian. Maybe it wasn’t wise to give up on something good over a bad month or so. A tiny, insecure part of her told her she’d never find someone who liked her just as much as Lucas.

“Hi there” A deep voice cut through her thoughts. She looked up to see a very handsome face.

He stood tall in the dark blue tracksuit of the French national team, smiling at her broadly. She recognized him immediately.

“Hi” She responded shyly, having never spoken to Kylian’s national team teammates before.

“Saw you from over there” Aurelien Tchouameni pointed to the mini basketball court, where some other players were shooting hoops. “And you’re really pretty”

Straight to the point, then. Ethan snorted from across the table.

“Uh.. thanks” She said nervously. “I have a boyfriend though”

Aurelien glanced at Ethan, then at her. Realization dawned on his face, and he held up his hands apologetically. “Oh, you’re Y/N! I should’ve realized… So you and Kylian finally got together, huh?”

“W-What?” She blabbered. Ethan was now laughing. “No, we’re not dating. Just friends”

“Oh” Aurelien said, his eyebrows furrowing. “Sorry. It’s just that he always talks about you”

“Really?”

“Yeah, whenever we talk about shows and music and stuff, he’s always like Y/N recommended this, Y/N said that”

“Yeah, he basically stole my entire personality” She deadpanned, trying to feel less awkward.

He laughed, nodding in agreement. “Well, you guys have fun. And sorry about that, I just had to shoot my shot”

He winked and walked away as quickly as he’d appeared.

She turned to Ethan, who was no doubt opening his mouth to tease her. She held up her hand. “Don’t even”

Y/N unloaded the contents of her tote bag on the bed, spilling out every type of candy Kylian had ever enjoyed. She turned to him, smiling proudly. “There you go, Monsieur”

Kylian’s eyes lit up as he grabbed a bag of M&Ms and tore it open. “Thank you” he said with a dimpled grin.

He’d texted her the day before asking her to grab him some candy, and she was happy to oblige. Kylian was the most disciplined person she’d ever met, but everyone deserves a cheat day—especially someone who’d made it to his second World Cup final at 23. She’d waited until they were alone in his room to give him the treats, careful to not be seen by any of the coaching staff.

She leaned back on her chair and opened her phone, once again checking for new messages.

“Stop that” Kylian scolded.

“Stop what?” She asked innocently.

“I know what you’re doing” he said. “I can’t believe you’re the one who’s hung up on him while he’s the asshole. It should be the other way around”

“I’m not hung up on him” She said, flustered. “I’m just…”

“You’re checking your phone every 5 minutes” He cut in. “You deserve someone who gives you their full attention and consideration, you know”

And why can’t that person be you?

The door burst open and Ethan walked in, his eyes immediately landing on all the candy.

“I knew it!” He pointed at her, accusatorial. “I knew it was for him”

She shrugged apologetically.

Ethan happily opened a bag of Haribos, and turned to his brother, a mischievous look on his face. “Did she tell you about Tchouameni?”

“What about him?” Kylian responded absentmindedly, his attention on his phone.

“He hit on her” Ethan said grinning “And then when he found out who she was he said he thought you two were dating”

An idea unfurled in Y/N’s head. “He’s so hot” she said. “Maybe I should ask for his number. Might as well, right? Since Lucas and I are basically done…”

“No” Kylian’s voice rose slightly. “No, don’t do that.”

“Why not?” She asked “You just said I deserve someone who gives me attention. Aurelien seems like the type”

He was fidgeting now, irritation clearly written on his face. “Athletes are assholes, haven’t you heard that before? Also, it would be weird for you to date my teammate”

“Are you saying you’re an asshole?” She asked

“No, but.. Just trust me” He turned his attention back to his phone, clearly uncomfortable.

Y/N wasn’t much of a football fan, but she knew that the match she just witnessed was one of the best ever played. The highs and lows, the split second moments that changed the trajectory of the whole game, the sheer unpredictability of the whole thing. Every single movement made by the players felt like the tipping point. The atmosphere inside the stadium was electric, a living, breathing entity fueled by the passion and excitement of the fans watching. By the time the Argentinian player had kicked the final penalty to seal his country’s win, she was overwhelmed by a deep feeling of sadness. So much so, that she felt tears prick her eyes. She looked down at Kylian, only a small figure from her seat in the stands. His shoulder was slumped, his entire body deflated. He had given his all, and yet he had lost. Teammates and coaching staff alike kept coming up to him to comfort him. She desperately wanted to go over to him, to hold him, but she knew she couldn’t enter the pitch until after the medal ceremony.

She saw him and his teammates retreat into the tunnels just as Messi lifted up the World Cup to the cheer of thousands. She turned to his family and friends, with whom she’d been cheering in elation at Kylian’s equalizing goal just a few minutes ago.

“Go” his father urged her “The only person he’d want to see right now is you”

She didn’t need to be told twice. She weaved her way through the stadium, flashing her VIP access lanyard when met with security, and asking for directions once or twice. She passed through the final set of security before finding herself outside the French team’s locker rooms. She informed the guard outside who she was looking for. He went inside, and moments later, came back out with Kylian.

Her heart nearly shattered at the sight of him. He kept his head down, but she could see his eyes were bloodshot. Without a word, she wrapped him in a tight hug, feeling him shake silently in her embrace. She had never seen Kylian cry before.

“Hey” she murmured softly. “It’s okay”

He buried his face in her shoulder, his breath hitching with each silent sob. Her own tears slipped down her cheeks. He gently let go a few moments later, and they sat down on the floor, leaning against the hallway wall.

“I thought we had it” He said, his voice cracking.

“ I know you did” She said gently, wiping a tear falling down his cheeks. “ You gave your everything. Sometimes it just comes down to luck, Ky. There’s nothing you can do about it” She took his hand and squeezed it reassuringly.

Kylian nodded, but she knew he didn’t believe her. Knowing him, this night would haunt him for a long time.

“Thank you for being here” His voice was steadier now. He leaned his head on her shoulder.

“Always” She whispered.

They sat there for some minutes, watching the hallway slowly become filled with the families of the other players. Her heart warmed at the sight of Griezmann’s daughters comforting their father. Her thumb was slowly caressing the back of Kylian’s hand. Turning slowly, she kissed his forehead. She wondered if they looked like a couple just then, with their hands joined in her lap and her lips on his forehead.

It was 2 days after that disappointing night in Qatar, and two nights since Y/N had been unceremoniously dumped over the phone.

The weight of the defeat had lingered that night, sucking the energy out of everyone. By the time Y/N and the Mbappes returned to the hotel, the atmosphere was thick with sadness and disappointment. She’d gotten the call just as she’d walked into her hotel room. Lucas’ voice had been calm and detached as he’d delivered the news she had dreaded: their relationship was over. The entire conversation was a blur, but there were bits and pieces that stung so much it still echoed in her head. “ I don’t feel that connection anymore” to “I’m clearly second choice here” and “you’ve been lying to yourself all this time”. She’d cried herself to sleep, overwhelmed by a storm of heartache and confusion.

She had planned to go straight to Madrid after the final but decided to hide out with her parents in Paris for a couple days. It was now the 20th, Kylian’s birthday. She hadn’t spoken to him since coming back to Paris, caught up in her own heartbreak, but she’d received an invitation for a birthday dinner via his assistant. It took everything in her to drag herself out of bed and to get ready.

The restaurant was one of the most famous in Paris, and Kylian’s personal favorite. He’d reserved the entire space for his friends and family. It was cozy, with dimmed lights and ambient music blending in with the chatter of the guests. A single long table stretched across the room, dotted with candlelight.

As Y/N made her way through the room, she greeted everyone – Kylian’s parents, his brothers, his closest teammates, his close friends, and other acquaintances. To her embarrassment, she’d been the last guest to arrive. His assistant guided her to the only open seat left, right next to Kylian.

“No one wants to sit next to the birthday boy?” She quipped as she took her place.

“Was saving it for you” He replied. He looked handsome in a blue Dior sweater and black denim jeans. His tan from Qatar was already fading, and he had a small smile playing on his face. They chatted for a bit, asking each other about their respective heartbreaks, before becoming engrossed in the lively conversations surrounding them.

At one point, they caught each other’s eyes. The candlelight was casting strange shadows on his face. She smiled at him, and without thinking, poked at one of his dimples. “I’m really glad you were born, by the way”

“ I know” His eyes sparkled with amusement. His arm was draped casually over the back of her chair, their faces close. He gently tugged at a single braid of her hair with his other hand and murmured, “I like your hair like this. It’s new right?”

It was indeed new. She’d decided to try boho braids for the first time.

You deserve someone who gives you their full attention and consideration, you know.

Someone cleared their throat, and they sprung apart. It was the waitstaff, ready to serve appetizers. They spoke sparingly as they ate. Kylian, the menace that he was, kept reaching for bites from her plate. She elbowed him whenever he did, but she didn’t hesitate to steal from his plate as well.

After everyone had eaten and all the food was cleared, a huge cake with 24 individual candles was brought out. She made sure to take a video of Kylian smiling as everyone sang Joyeux Anniversaire, giggling at how awkward he looked.

“Make a wish first!” Someone called just as he was about to blow out the candles.

He paused, his gaze locking with Y/N’s over her phone screen as he playfully pointed a finger at her. He continued blowing out his candles, never breaking eye contact with her. A chorus of laughter came from the guests at his antics, and Y/N felt her face burn as she put down her phone.

“He’s so down bad for her…” She could hear Tchaga snigger. Another ripple of laughter broke out from the guests at his comment. She wished the ground would open up and swallow her at that moment.

The laughter and celebration gradually tapered off after some time, and Y/N and some other friends were invited by Kylian to his apartment for some drinks. He had training the next day and didn’t want to do some heavy clubbing.

The sound of easy laughter and the clinking of glasses filled Kylian’s apartment. Y/N and Kylian were sitting on the couch in his living room, their bodies close together despite them being the only occupants. They were reminiscing about the time Kylian had tried to convince her to play in a school tournament. There was a rule that the teams had to be mixed, and not a lot of girls wanted to play. He’d begged Y/N to join, and she’d reluctantly accepted on the condition that he’d buy her a teddy bear if they won. They were playing for a plastic trophy that cost 2 euros, yet Kylian treated it like it was life or death. They won, and Y/N got her teddy bear.

“I still have that teddy bear, you know” she said.

“Yeah?”

“Uh-huh. It’s probably my favorite gift I’ve ever received”

He hummed, clearly pleased. She didn’t know when and how, but her leg was slung over his. His hand was on her, his fingers softly tracing lines up and down her calf.

“So, I’m your birthday wish huh?” She knew she wouldn’t be bold enough to say those words any other time, but here they were. The physical proximity was like a promise of something greater happening.

“Yup” He met her eyes confidently, his eyes shining.

“Maybe you should’ve started small though. Like a kiss?” She tried her best to sound flirtatious.

He laughed, “Ok. Let me redo the wish”

He cleared his throat and closed his eyes, a small smile still playing on his lips. He put his palms together as if in prayer and said in a deep, affected voice, “ Dear Universe, for my 24th birthday, I wish to receive a kiss from Y/N”

Without skipping a beat, she leaned in and slanted her lips over his. She could feel his breath hitch, like he hadn’t expected her to do that. It hardly took a second for him to kiss back though. It was slow, sensual. Tender and exploratory. His tongue brushed her lips before slipping inside, and she welcomed him with a soft sigh. The hand that had been on her calf quickly moved to her hips, and his other hand gently cupped her face. Her stomach was a puddle, and she was glad that they were sitting down because she was sure her knees would’ve given out if they were standing. The kiss deepened and went on and on and on, until they had to break away for air. He looked dazed, his lips glistening from her shiny lipgloss.

He quickly put his lips back on her, but Y/N pulled away.

She pressed her lips over his ear and murmured, “You need to tell everyone to leave. Now”

Kylian quickly waved Tchaga over and whispered in his ear urgently. Y/N didn’t feel a trace of shame when Tchaga shot her a knowing, teasing look. She was just happy that he was making quick work of announcing that the party was over and ushering everyone out of Kylian’s apartment.

No sooner had the apartment emptied and the door slammed behind Tchaga that she climbed his lap. She was able to get one sloppy kiss in before Kylian pulled away breathlessly. “We need to get to my room”

And so he hoisted her up and effortlessly walked them all the way up the stairs and into his bedroom. They kissed fiercely as he gently put her down on his bed. Kylian scrambled out of his sweater as she unbuttoned her shirt. He helped her out of her skirt and then her tights.

She rolled over and climbed on top of him, finding him as ready as she was. Lustful brown eyes stared openly at her pale pink underwear. “Do you have?” She asked frantically.

“Yeah, in the drawer”

She leaned sideways, stretching her body to reach the bedside drawer. She found the box pretty easily and grabbed one from it. He was still staring at her hungrily. With shaking hands, she unhooked her bra and took it off.

He kissed her neck, her breasts, her stomach. Her hands caressed his biceps, his chest, his torso. This was years of desire she’d harbored, finally unleashed. His mouth brushed over her lower torso before his fingers deftly removed the last remaining piece of clothing on her body. She unbuckled his belt buckle and removed his jeans and boxers at the same time. His breathing was shallow and rapid as she ripped the foil open and rolled it on him. She lowered herself onto him slowly, and they both gasped.

They were chest to chest, their hearts drumming together. They moved together in a steady rhythm, watching each other, checking in on each other with their eyes. Is this okay? How about this? And this?

She wanted him closer, deeper. It was never enough. They breathed into each other's mouths, tongues meeting sloppily. Breaking apart, their foreheads met. Their eyes said a million little things at once. Time and space had no meaning anymore for Y/N. There was only Kylian.

* **************

It turned out that if you’d wanted something badly for a very long time, and then you finally got that thing, it didn’t necessarily mean that you'll have enough of that thing. Sometimes, it could leave you wanting more and more. Case in point: Y/N.

They woke up midday with bodies hot and sweaty and limbs tangled together in the sheets. They had laid there for an hour or so, kissing languidly. He somehow already knew what she liked, the moves that made her moan and gasp.

“I could do this forever” he’d murmured as his lips softly trailed after hers. But his alarm rang out just then, a stark reminder of real life. They both sighed reluctantly as they pulled away. He had to get up and get ready for his afternoon training.

She laid there, silently watching him get dressed. She was mesmerized by every movement of his beautiful, lean yet muscular body. Her own personal Adonis. It was a wonder she’d been able to keep her hands off him. He caught her looking at him and smirked, winking at her. She just rolled her eyes.

Once he’d gotten ready and packed his bag, he came over to her on the bed and showered her face with affectionate kisses. “I’ll come back in the evening. Feel free to just chill here.” He said between kisses on her forehead, lips, cheeks, chin. “I’ll leave a spare key by the door though”

She nodded happily, giving him one last tender kiss. He stepped out, and she was left to bask in the lingering warmth of his affection. Her mind replayed the memories of the night before, and she felt like the happiest person alive. Now that she got a taste of him, she wanted more of him. As if on cue, her phone pinged with a text.

Ky: I miss you already 🙁

She giggled, quickly typing out a I miss you tooo before getting up and hopping in the shower. It was only when she got out that she realized she didn’t have a change of clothes, and unless she wanted to walk into her parents apartment dressed the same way she’d left it yesterday, she needed to put on something else. She walked into Kylian’s closet and grabbed the nearest T-shirt and sweatpants, as well as some slippers. She quickly snapped a mirror pic after changing and sent it to Kylian, typing heading to my parents for a bit.

The reply was almost instant.

Ky: 😍 😍

Ky: don’t forget to grab stuff you need.

She smiled, loving the implication she’d spend the night again. At her parents, she grabbed Kylian’s gift that she’d forgotten to take with her the night before, as well as a change of clothes. She came back to Kylian’s place and answered work emails and completed other miscellaneous tasks concerning her job.

He was back in the early evening, just as promised. The passion of the night before had faded and the afterglow of the morning had subsided, meaning there was nothing to embolden either of them. Thus, they treaded lightly around each other. Their looks were furtive, their touches tentative. Kylian, the least shy person she’d ever met, had somehow turned uncharacteristically quiet. Yet, they were both undeniably giddy. She could see it in the way he broke into an inexplicable smile whenever he caught her eye during dinner, and in the way she was in the best mood she’d been in for a long time.

This illusion of coyness evaporated as they settled on the couch after dinner, Kylian turning on a tactical video the PSG staff had instructed him to view. The video was on for less than 2 minutes before their focus shifted entirely and they began to make out.

“You’re too distracting,” he said between kisses as she giggled.

“Yeah?”

His lips shifted to her neck. “I think kissing you is my favorite thing to do”

He was biting there, sure to leave a mark.

“Well second favorite” he corrected himself.

She took off her T-shirt and straddled him. He continued, his hands softly gripping her waist “Second place is kissing you. First place is obviously playing football—”

He was momentarily interrupted as she took his own T-shirt off. “—tied with fucking you”

His shit eating grin was the last thing she saw before he flipped her over and sent her sprawling comfortably on the cushions.

It was unfortunate that they had a game on new year’s eve, but Y/N liked the ambiance at the Parc des Princes. The stadium was buzzing with a special, festive energy for Kylian’s first match after the World Cup final. She was seated in the VIP section along with his parents, brother, and Tchaga and had jumped up and down when Kylian scored the last minute winner. He’d never say it, but she knew he needed that confidence boost.

In the past week, she’d gotten to know a completely different part of him – one her lovesick teenage self could only have dreamed of, and that her more cynical young adult self had never thought she’d experience.

For example, she’d always known that he loved taking care of his loved ones, but she hadn’t spent a single dime during her stay with him. Any purchases she thought of making, he insisted on paying for. He’d even surprised her with a package containing everything from her wishlist after he saw her browsing her favorite store online. His generosity extended to small things like sharing food (which he was notoriously known for disliking), and thoughtful gestures like arranging a work space for her in one of his spare rooms. He endearingly loved using pet names, alternating between “bébé” and “chérie”, and her heart did somersaults when she heard him use those in everyday conversation.

She learned intimate details too, thanks to their newfound physical closeness. The birthmark on his lower back that she loved pressing kisses to. How scratching his head would put him to sleep almost instantly. She learned about his preferences as well; he was most definitely an ass man – it was evident by the way he never passed up a chance to feel her up when they were by themselves. Now, she committed everything she learned to memory, seeing Kylian in hues she never thought existed.

The days after his birthday were perfect to her, it felt like she was living a dream. Lucas and Madrid were so far from her mind that it was as if the break up had happened a year ago. The person she’d been pining after for ages seemingly liked her back. She was at her happiest.

There was one issue that gnawed at her, however. It bothered her that they had never spoken about what they were, or where their relationship was heading. She’d thought that the fact they had slept together was a mutual admission of serious feelings, that they had an unspoken agreement. Yet, the more she thought about it, the more she realized they hadn’t actually talked about it. The first two days or so, she’d been on cloud 9, swept away by the euphoria of it all. But now, as reality set it, it was torturing her.

A buzz of excitement filled the VIP lounge as a small crowd gathered around the entrance. She suspected it was Kylian and his entourage; he’d promised to come up to the lounge after the game. Sure enough, in walked Kylian’s bodyguards, followed closely by the man of the match himself.

He made the rounds first, meeting all the important people in the room, taking pictures and making small talk. He finally made his way to his family and friends. He came to Y/N last, and there was an awkward shuffle when he went in for a peck on the lips as a greeting, and Y/N instinctively aimed for his cheek. They laughed it off, and she gave him the kiss he’d wanted. Ethan let out a loud “ew!”, and Y/N flushed, looking at the ground. So far, none of their family and friends had had visible reactions to the recent developments in their relationship. No one had said anything when they’d shown up holding hands at Kylian's family Christmas party a week ago; it was almost like they expected it, as if they believed this was the natural culmination of Y/N and Kylian’s 10+ years long friendship and not an unexpected turn of events.

“ I have something for you” she murmured after it was just the two of them speaking, indicating a small gift bag she was holding.

He raised his eyebrows. “Oooh. What’s in there?”

“It's your birthday gift” She said as she handed it to him. “I was supposed to bring it to dinner but I forgot. I brought it to your apartment the next day but it slipped my mind again”

“And here I was thinking my gift was the mind blowing sex” He said grinning.

She shoved him playfully, rolling her eyes. As he reached to open the bag, her stomach started fluttering.

Someone slid up to him just then, whispering in his ear.

“ Give me one second, I’ll be back” he said apologetically as he dropped the bag on the nearest table and was whisked away, no doubt to meet some other important person that was there to see him.

She sighed, her shoulders slumping. The gift was a scrapbook she’d made herself, chronicling their long friendship. She’d hoped it would help open up the conversation about their current situation.

“Fancy a drink?”

It was one of the waiters, holding a tray of colorful looking drinks. She graciously took one.

“New here? I’m never seen you in the lounge before”

He seemed polite enough. “Uh, yes. I’m here with…my boyfriend” She tested the word on her lips, her eyes on Kylian across the room.

The waiter followed her gaze and snorted. “He has a girlfriend? I’d sooner believe Macron quit the presidency to be a mime”

He blanched as soon as he realized she was serious. “I- I meant-”

“What?”

He looked at the ground. “He just- I see a different model every other week here. They're almost always his guests”

She opened her mouth, but he beat her to it. “Look, just forget I said anything. It’s not my place.” He looked at her pleadingly. “Please don’t get me fired”

He scurried off before she could say anything.

She glanced at her gift bag, left forgotten on the table. He was now taking pictures with a group of older people. Her eyes started to well up, and she walked out of the room. She kept going until she found herself outside, ordering an Uber. She sent him a text as she got in the car:

Y/N: going home to deal with some stuff, think I’ll spend the night there

She closed her eyes, tears now sliding down her cheeks.

She barely slept that night, spending hours on her phone looking up the many women Kylian had been linked with. She went through their instagrams, her mind treacherously comparing each one to herself, as if she could measure her worth against their curated, seemingly perfect lives. She came across photos of Kylian on yachts, laughing with bikini-clad blondes. The comments on the photos only twisted the knife deeper – some criticized him as a “playboy” , while others mocked him with a dismissive “typical footballer”. Each photo was like a dagger to her heart.

But it was the final blow that left her breathless: blurry photos of Kylian leaving a club with a girl, taken just a month ago, in November. It was that recent. It all made sense now, why he’d never made an effort to have a serious conversation about their relationship. He liked his current lifestyle, focusing completely on football while indulging in a fleeting series of flings from time to time. She was nothing special, just another name on the long list of women he entertained.

What shattered her the most was that he had no consideration for their friendship, that he could throw it away just like that for some sex. He had traded something she deeply cherished for something else he considered transient, meaningless.

By the time dawn broke and the first light filtered through her curtains, she was resolute. Dragging herself out of bed, she made her way to the kitchen and was shocked to find her parents sitting and laughing with Kylian.

His face brightened as soon as he saw her. “Morning chérie” he greeted, the pet name failing to make her stomach flutter this time.

“Dropped by to check on you” he continued. “You weren’t answering my texts”

It was intentional, of course. Seeing the tired look on her face, her parents moved out of the kitchen to give them privacy. She sat down beside him slowly, and his face twisted into concern.

“Is everything ok?” He went to grab her hand but she snatched it away quickly. She didn’t miss the hurt look on his face.

“I- uh. I’m ok” She didn’t know how to approach the conversation. “Did you finally open my gift?”

"What? Your gi- oh. Yeah. I did” She could clearly see through the lie.

“Kylian” She warned, her tone sharp.

He rubbed the back of his neck, looking guilty. “I’m sorry, I completely forgot. But it still has to be there though, no one will take it”

“What the fuck, Kylian?” her voice rose, frustration spilling over. “You didn’t even take it home with you?”

He frantically reached for his phone. “I’ll call and get someone at the club to look for it. I’ll get it back, I promise”

She snatched the phone out of his hand, her eyes blazing “I spent a lot of time on it. I can’t believe you did that, it's like you don’t even care”

He looked at her earnestly. “You know I care, I care about you a lot”

“Is that what you say to every girl you sleep with?” She couldn’t help it.

“What?” He looked at her incredulously. “ No. This is different. You’ve always been different”

“I find that hard to believe, Kylian” She muttered, her voice quivering.

“Why?” He challenged her, his confusion mingled with frustration. “Why would you think that?”

“Because” her tears spilled over “You’ve been uncommitted forever”

“Well maybe that’s because the one person I would’ve liked to be committed to was in another country, wasting her time on some asshole”

“Then why not now?” She spoke through tears. “I’ve been sleeping in your bed for a while now, Ky.”

“I was trying to give you time” His voice shook. “You broke up with that idiot literally 3 days before we hooked up. I thought you weren’t ready”

He looked at her pleadingly, his eyes desperate.

“I don’t know, Kylian” She laughed bitterly. “you said it yourself, don’t trust athletes”

She saw a tear falling down his cheek, and she was struck by the sight. She never thought the second time she’d see him cry, it would be because of her.

She weighed the possibility of making it work – a long distance relationship, with her in Madrid and him in Paris. They’d see each other infrequently, her being tied to Madrid with work and him to Paris by the relentless demands of football. They’d miss birthdays, anniversaries. She’d never be able to take him to an office Christmas party. Maybe she’d be able to go with him to things that mattered to him, like award ceremonies, but only because his career would take precedence over hers. She’d hear whispers about his potential infidelities, but she wouldn’t say anything. Until the resentment feels so suffocating it bubbles up, and she’d have no choice but to end it. It would happen, whether months away or years down the line. And then they’d have to cut each other off forever. She didn’t want that. She loved him too much. She’d rather have some of him than nothing at all. Perhaps if she ended it now, their friendship could be salvaged.

She couldn’t meet his eyes. “I’m sorry, Kylian. I don’t think… I don’t think we should do this anymore”

They sat there silently for a few seconds. Then she heard a sniffle, and then the sound of his chair scraping as he got up. She heard footsteps retreating, and then the sound of the apartment door open and slam shut. Only then did she let herself fall apart.

Her mother hurried into the room, looking very alarmed. “Y/N, what’s wrong?”

“Maman” she choked out between sobs. “I need to book a flight back to Madrid”

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andreafmn · 8 months ago

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Kinktober ⛓️ Day 26

Word Count: 4.0K Paring: Dean Winchester x Fem!Reader Requested by @elizabeth916: "Supernatural" Prompt @kinktober2023: Masturbation WARNINGS: SMUT 18+ (minors DNI), slight voyeurism, vaginal fingering, masturbation, joint masturbation

Summary: After a hard life and a close brush with death via vampire, (Y/N) is taken in by Bobby Singer and taught the way of the hunters, even if that was the last thing he wanted for her. Add Dean and Sam Winchester into the mix, and she's more involved in the hunter lifestyle than before. Now, Dean is always always at odds with the girl. Even if he was the one who asked her to join them, he's always the one getting in her way. Sam says it's because he's in love with her. (Y/N) just thinks he's stubborn. One way or another, she's gonna find out they're both kind of right.

A/N: whoop, still doing this, I will try to finish before this october 🫣🫣 I've only gotten to season 5 of Supernatural so sorry this isn't more canon-centric

MASTERLIST

Constantly being on the road provided little privacy. Being the only girl in a team of hunters made it harder to have some. Being the only girl in a team of hunters that were brothers made it nearly impossible to have any.

But (Y/N) couldn’t complain. The Winchesters were the closest thing she had to a family, and they needed her help.

She had lost her parents at a young age and had made a life for herself as best as she could. She was sent from foster home to foster home until, at eighteen, she met Bobby Singer by chance during one of his hunts.

A couple of days before, she had been kidnapped by a young vampire as she walked from work and took her back to his nest, where she was fed upon from the moment she arrived. She believed she’d die there with nothing to show for her life other than a rundown apartment and a shitty waitressing job.

But just as everything had seemed bleak, Bobby had come in swinging a machete around and killed every single one of the vampires that had resided in the abandoned warehouse. Seeing the girl who was barely clinging to life, the man took her back to his motel and waited until she had regained consciousness.

He was sure she would scream, try to run away, or even hit him. Yet all she did was flutter her eyes open and thank him. She wasn’t afraid, nor was she angry. She had simply accepted what had happened to her as something else she had to deal with.

“You really ain’t scared of everything I just told you?” he had asked her that night as they ate some burgers. “I mean, I just told you that you almost died because of vampires, and you were more surprised that they put pickles in your burger.”

“I’ve dealt with worse shit in my life to find the supernatural unbelievable,” she shrugged. “With how my life goes, dying from a vampire is the least of my worries.”

Bobby had only met one other teenager as nonchalant and used to peril, and he had not been able to help him as much as he wanted to. But he knew he would always regret if he left (Y/N) to her own devices after meeting her. So, Bobby offered her a chance at a different life. Going against everything he had ever believed, he offered her a room at his place and a new job. And she said yes.

That answer had changed her entire existence.

(Y/N) took to the hunting lifestyle rapidly, finding it easier than being an eighteen-year-old girl living by herself in a sketchy part of town. She invested all her time and energy to get stronger and faster, wanting nothing more than to become better and better.

Bobby tried his best to keep her life balanced, especially after seeing what the hunting life had done to John Winchester’s sons, Dean and Sam. For years, he pushed her to have a social life and do things normal young people would. Still, he couldn’t squander her determination. So, when Dean called her up one day to help him and his brother find their father, she quickly agreed, much to Bobby’s dismay.

But once her mind was set on something, there wasn't much he could do; all he could do was hope she’d one day come back safe and sound.

And that was the day she had lost all sense of privacy. The trio jumped from motel to motel, and there was not enough money for two rooms. Thankfully, there always were two beds and sometimes a rickety couch, not that it helped the choking sexual tension between (Y/N) and the older Winchester.

From the moment they met, there was an undeniable chemistry between them. Sure, Dean flirted with anything that walked on two legs, but it was different with (Y/N). He wanted much more than just a one-night lay with her. He wanted the entire package–the apple pie life he’d dreamed of.

But he wanted something different for her—something better than what he could offer. Like Bobby, he didn’t want her involved in the hunting business. He had even begged Bobby not to let her go. But Sam was right. If they had any chance of finding their father, it would have been with her by their side. Just because he had agreed to let her tag along did not mean he didn’t worry whenever they were on a mission. If he wasn’t making sure that Sam wasn’t hurt, he was worried that (Y/N) was, and more often than not, his concern came out more like hostility rather than worry.

Much like their latest case. The three of them were sat at a diner, a giant breakfast spread on the table before them, and the only one eating was Dean. (Y/N) and Sam had their noses buried in books and laptops, trying to gather all information they could about a particular nest of vampires that had made their home in a small town outside of Detroit.

The case was particularly personal for (Y/N). The vamps that had been running amok the town had been the same ones that had almost taken her life many years before. Just like Bobby had told her, they left an item of the person they abducted with a star drawn in their blood at the place they were taken from. The creatures looked for easy targets and always hunted in the darkest corners of the night.

Now, (Y/N) had a plan to get to their nest, but it seemed she was the only one who thought it was a good one. “I’m just saying that it’s worth a try,” she whispered as she sipped her coffee. “I can make myself a target, and they’ll think it’s fucking divine intervention that they got the one that got away. Then you guys can follow and kill them all. I don’t see what’s so bad about that.”

“Are you fucking serious, (Y/N)?” Dean seethed. “They could kill you on the spot. It’s too risky.”

“It’s the only plan we’ve got right now that could actually end this,” she countered. “Even Sam thinks that it’s good.”

“All I said was that it could technically work,” the younger Winchester defended. “But I also agree with Dean that it’s too dangerous.”

“I don’t care if I get hurt as long as we get them.”

“It’s not about you getting hurt, (Y/N),” Dean spat, slamming what was left of his sandwich onto the plate. “It’s about you fucking dying.”

“Well, it’s a risk I’m willing to take,” she countered with the same anger. “It’s my life we’re talking about here, Dean. Not yours.”

“You’re fucking unbelievable!” he exclaimed through gritted teeth as he got up, grabbing his jacket in the process. “I’ll be in the room. I need to cool off.”

Sam and (Y/N) watched as the older Winchester left the diner, a cloud of steam almost visible in his step. It wasn’t the first time he had stormed out that way; it was his standard practice when things weren’t going according to his plan. But that moment, in particular, felt different. The energy was different.

“Okay, he needs to get over himself,” the girl muttered as she slouched in her seat, her arms crossed across her chest. “You guys cannot be the only ones allowed to sacrifice yourselves for the greater good. I know I can get hurt. I signed up for this job just like you guys did.”

“I don’t know who’s more oblivious,” Sam snickered as he popped a slice of bacon in his mouth. “You seriously don’t understand why he acts like that with you?”

“Because he’s a total douche with a god-complex?”

“No, idiot,” he laughed. “Because he likes you and cares about what happens to you.”

“Oh, come on, Sammy. We’ve been through this before,” (Y/N) said. “The only things Dean Winchester cares about are his car and you. I don’t even fall in the top five.”

“Jesus, you’re both just so stubborn,” he sighed, rubbing his temples. “Go talk to him, and then tell me if he doesn’t care.”

“He’s just gonna fight with me.”

“Go, (Y/N),” Sam exclaimed. “And actually talk to him.”

“Fine!” the young woman finally relented. “But you’re getting stuck with the research then.”

“Like that’s ever changed,” he scoffed jokingly. “Now, go.”

(Y/N) took the short walk back to the motel as slowly as she could, kicking a rock in her step as she fiddled with the key. It wasn’t the first time Sam had hinted at Dean’s supposed feelings for her. It had become his one source of teasing material since they had met for the first time. But she had always taken it as a joke, nothing more—just a quip a little brother used to bother his older brother. There was no way there was any truth to it. And if going to the room proved that, then that was what (Y/N) had to do.

As she neared the motel, she caught a glimpse of Baby, and a slight chuckle bubbled in her throat. That car was Dean’s one true love, and she knew that. He treated his vehicle better than any of the women he paraded in and out of their motel rooms or even the ones who never made it out of the bars. Hell, he treated it better than her or Sam at times.

That was the reason she had never admitted her feelings in the almost eight years she had known him. (Y/N) knew they wouldn’t be reciprocated. Dean had never given a single indication that he’d ever share her sentiment. Well, other than Sam’s words. But who could believe him then?

All she needed was one sign. A simple whisper from the universe that he did share in those feelings. That the reason he fought with her so much was because there were so many emotions bottled up inside him that he couldn’t help how they came out. Just one sign.

“(Y/N),” she heard an exhale as she neared the motel door. It was raspy and guttural, and she knew it had not come from the wind. “Fuck, (Y/N).”

She could have been dreaming. In the supernatural world, anything was possible. But the metal doorknob felt too cold in her hand, and the key turned too loudly for it to be her imagination. Behind that door, a scene was unfolding that surpassed her wildest fantasies, and she was the main character without knowing it.

(Y/N) opened the door slowly, pulling it upward to avoid the whining of the hinges, and she came face-to-face with something she could have only dreamed of. In fact, she was sure she had dreamt it before.

Dean was splayed in the middle of her bed, his hard cock in one hand and a pair of her underwear in the other. He ran his hand up and down his length, easing his pumping with the leaking precum that stained him. After every few strokes, he’d bring the piece of fabric to his face, taking a long drag before muttering (Y/N)’s name once more.

His eyes were pressed shut, and his movements were erratic. Dean was close, that much she could tell. She could see it in the way he breathed, in the way his hips stuttered, and the way his skin had grown red and flushed. Dean was reaching his climax with her name spilling from his tongue.

“So fucking stubborn,” he croaked out as his seed spilled all over his stomach. “(Y/N), fu~uck.”

“Good to know my underwear didn’t just disappear three months ago,” she grinned as she finally made herself known. “Didn’t take you for a panty sniffer, Deanie.”

“What the fuck are you doing here?” Dean exclaimed as he tried his best to cover himself. He pulled the sheets from under himself, pulling too hard and falling to the floor with a loud thud. “How long have you been there?”

“Long enough to know who you were thinking about,” (Y/N) taunted as she approached him. His legs were still on the bed, and his jeans pooled around his ankles while the sheet covered the rest of his body. At any given time, she would have made fun of him; tease him until he begged her to stop. But the heat that pooled between her legs had blurred her mind, and all that she wanted was to replace the hand that was working him. “Something you wanna tell me, Dean?”

“God, you’re insufferable,” Dean huffed as he tried to get up. “It’s not what you think.”

“And what do I think, Deanie? What did I just walk into?”

“I just needed to relieve some stress.”

“Oh, and do you always relieve your stress thinking of me?” (Y/N) mewled as she knelt down, her breath hot on his skin as she whispered in his ear. He stiffened up at her closeness, trying his best not to touch her. “See what I think, Deanie, is that what Sam’s been telling me is the truth. That you like me and that you care about me. And since daddy never taught you how to express yourself correctly, you just let everything out when you’re angry.”

Those words ignited a fire in Dean. He no longer cared about his lack of clothing or the situation (Y/N) had caught him in. All he wanted was to regain control. “You think you’re funny, huh?” he growled as he flipped her onto the ground and towered over her. “You think that just because you caught me like this, you know everything now?”

“I know enough,” she smirked up at him as she fought against his grip. “Matter of fact, I can feel it against my leg right now.”

“And you think it’s for you? You think you’re the only (Y/N) out there?”

“I’m the only one you know,” she teased. “And I’m the one whose panties you were sniffing.”

“It’s just a matter of convenience, (Y/N),” he shrugged. “You’re here. That’s that.”

“Are you sure, Dean? Because I’ve never seen you hoard the underwear of any of your past playdates. So, why mine? And why were you jacking off with my name rolling off your tongue?” (Y/N) propped her torso up by her elbows, pressing the tip of her nose to his, testing the waters before diving in. “And what if I told you I felt the same way, Deanie? What if I said that I’ve thought of you with my own hand down my pants? That I’ve edged myself for hours thinking of what you could do to me. And it’s not a matter of convenience for me, Dean. It’s the real deal.”

Dean couldn’t believe what the woman under him was saying. He’d gone so long thinking his feelings were one-sided that Sam only told him the things he wanted to hear. To him, (Y/N) was too smart and too beautiful ever to want to be with him. He wasn’t what she deserved, but now he knew he was what she wanted.

“Tell me you’re messing with me,” he grumbled. “Tell me this is just one big joke.”

“Why do you want me to lie to you, Dean? Is it so hard to believe that someone can feel something for you? That I love you?”

“You don’t mean that,” he continued. “How would you know what you feel is real? It’s not like you have a lot of options on the road.”

“Because I’ve felt like this from the moment I met you, Dean,” she confessed. Her heart had begun hammering inside her chest, begging for a moment of rest. But that was the last thing she wanted. It was the last thing she needed. “Why don’t you want to believe that I could feel this way about you?”

“Because you deserve better, (Y/N),” he muttered softly, almost like he didn’t want her to hear it. “I’m not better.”

(Y/N) knew words were not enough to calm the doubts that drowned his mind, but she knew how she could show it. With a smile on her face, she pulled one of Dean’s hands with her own as she unzipped her pants with her other. She moved their interlocked hands to the wetness that had pooled in her core, pressing his calloused fingers on the aching bundle of nerves that had been begging for attention. “I know what I deserve,” she hissed. “And I know what I want, Dean. I want you.”

“You don’t know what you’re saying,” he argued. But his fingers were telling another story. As if by instinct, his digits had started circling her clit, rubbing circles and shapes over the bud. “I’m damaged goods, (Y/N). I’m no good.”

“And I’m not better,” she added. “We all have a past, Dean. It can’t stop us from living in the present.”

“Is that what you’re doing, then?” Dean chuckled. “Living in the present?”

“We both are, Deanie,” (Y/N) grinned mischievously, knowing she had won him over. “As soon as you give in, baby.”

“You win, then,” he smiled. “For now.”

Dean pressed his lips to (Y/N)’s, savoring their softness and their warmth. It was everything he had imagined and more. They moved perfectly in sync, fitting into each other’s empty spaces like they had been crafted for each other. And maybe they were. Maybe they were part of some divine plan and had no idea. But at that moment, it didn’t matter. It was the fact that they were together that made everything just right.

“So, is this all because of me?” Dean taunted as he teased her folds. “This how you always are?”

“Yeah,” she sighed in pleasure. “I can’t help it when I’m with you.”

“Wish I had known earlier,” he grinned deviously. “I would have been taking care of you, (Y/N).”

“I think we’ve been taking care of ourselves quite well,” (Y/N) teased. “I mean, from what I saw today, you got your system down.”

“Oh, is that so? That mean you got your system too?”

“Well, I have not heard any complaints yet,” she chuckled. “I kind of know my body quite well.”

“Show me then.”

“What?”

“Did I stutter?” Dean smiled. “Get up on the bed and show me how you touch yourself thinking of me, baby.”

Dean slipped an arm under her legs and another on her back and carried her to the bed, where he laid her body softly on the mattress. He kissed his way down her body as he rid her of her clothes, revealing the valley of her skin and marking his path with his mouth.

“Show me,” he said as he kissed down her legs. “Show me what you do.”

“You gotta get off me first,” she chuckled. “Or are you gonna do the work for me?”

“As tempting as that sounds, baby, we gotta even the fields here. And we don’t have much time.”

With a slight chuckle, (Y/N) situated herself comfortably on the bed, propping her back up with a few pillows. Just enough so she could see Dean’s form. He had dragged a chair and rested it just at the foot of the bed, his eyes firmly trained on the woman’s body.

Soon enough, (Y/N)’s hands set off to work instinctively. They roamed her body sensuously, squeezing and kneading her most sensitive spots. As they worked their way through her skin, one rested upon her breast as the other made its way between her legs. She spread her limbs wide, giving Dean the show of a lifetime as her digits spread her folds and gathered her wetness before landing on her aching clit.

She knew it was her hands that were touching her, but her mind quickly tricked her into thinking it was Dean’s calloused fingers running across her body. In her head, it was him that was toying with her clit, it was him that was pinching her hardened nipples, it was him that was bringing her closer and closer to her awaited orgasm.

But it was clear that it wasn’t. Where he sat, Dean had taken his hard cock back into his hand, pumping at the same rate (Y/N) was touching herself. He slid his hand up and down his length, using his thumb to circle the head as precum coated him. In his head, it was her hand wrapped around him, squeezing softly as he tried to ride out his climax as long as he could.

“Fuck yourself, baby,” Dean groaned out. “I’m getting close here.”

“I always knew you were always too fast to the finish line,” she teased, concealing a moan that burst through. “Might just call you two-minute Dean.”

“You really know how to shatter the fantasy, (Y/N),” he sighed. “Just do it, baby.”

“Alright, but stop talking, Dean. You’re wrecking my fantasy here.”

After Dean finally quieted, stifling a moan that was bubbling, (Y/N) continued with her work. The hand that had been touching her chest slithered down her body, sinking into her core as her other hand continued her attack on her clit.

Moans and pants left her as she pistoned into her cunt, her digits curling at the end to bring her that much closer to her climax. She could see how hard it was for the man before her to keep up with her speed. His skin had started to redden and beads of sweat had formed across his body. His chest heaved quickly, and his movements stuttered as he held onto whatever resolution he had left.

“Fuck, Dean,” she moaned. “I’m so close, baby.”

“Me too, sweetheart,” he stammered. “Keep going. Cum for me, baby.”

(Y/N)’s picked up speed as she felt the tight coil in the pit of her stomach threatening to snap. She had done that dance many times before, searching, pushing, beckoning her orgasm to the brink. But it was the first time the Dean that was before her was real, close enough she could touch him. Close enough he could touch her.

It was that very thought that had her yelling out his name as her finish washed over her body, drenching her hands in her essence. Close behind, Dean burst across his stomach with her name dripping from his tongue, his eyes firmly trained on hers.

Dean took her into another rough kiss as they came down from their respective orgasms, her lips so irresistible he didn’t care how out of breath he was. “God, you’re perfect,” he panted. “So fucking perfect, baby.”

“Was that everything you had dreamed of?” (Y/N) teased with a grin. “Was that what was running through your head when I caught you?”

“Something like that,” he chuckled as he caressed her cheek. “It was more of a contact sport, if you get what I’m saying.”

“Well, we still got some time to kill before nightfall,” she offered. “And I’ve got enough for a round two.”

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, baby.”

As Dean kissed his way down (Y/N)’s neck, a knock on the door startled them apart, sending them scrambling for their clothes.

“Guys?” Sam called from the other side of the door. “Is everything okay with you two? We really need to get ready for tonight.”

“Fucking Sammy,” Dean grumbled quietly, his eyes rolling as he slipped his t-shirt on. “We were just getting done talking.”

“No fighting?”

“We were very civil, Sam,” (Y/N) called out, trying her best to swallow the laughter that was bubbling in her throat. The pair had gotten dressed in record time, fixing the bed and brushing their hair. She was slipping on her boots when she whispered to Dean, “We are definitely getting a raincheck on that round two, Dean.”

“Oh, you betcha, baby,” he grinned. “Don’t think I’ve ever been so grateful to be caught in the act.”

“Just be grateful it was me and not Sam,” she smiled before kissing him once more. “Now, let’s go kill us some vampires.”

My content will always be free, but if you’re feeling particularly generous, you can leave a tip on any of my posts or buy me a coffee to support me and my love of writing If you’d like to be tagged in every Kinktober work, any fandom or story: click here Make sure you have my notifications on so you know every time I post!

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bradshawssugarbaby · 1 year ago

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Merry Christmas, Dad. - Bradley Bradshaw x Reader

summary: Bradley's step-daughter doesn't know what to get him for Christmas, until she comes up with the perfect idea.

A/N: More Christmas morning fluff, this time for our favourite aviator with Daddy issues. This is my third of three six (I like Christmas, ok?) entries for @sailor-aviator's Christmas Writing Challenge to celebrate the holidays with our favourite aviators. Also, I know it's not my best, but I had a dream last night about stepdad!Bradley and I ran with it.

pairing: Bradley Bradshaw x reader

warnings/content: adoption inaccuracies, Bradley has a ten year old stepdaughter, fluff

word count: 1.4k

“Mom, can I ask you something?”

You hummed as you looked up from the article you were reading on your phone and smiled softly at your ten year old daughter, Kennedy. Kennedy nervously fidgeted with her hands as she waited for your response, copying your own nervous habit of biting the inside of your cheek whenever there was a discussion you were scared to have.

“Do you think Bradley would mind if I started calling him “dad”?” Kennedy’s voice was quiet, her eyes shifting their gaze to the floor as she waited for your response.

You and Bradley had dated since Kennedy was 5, she knew a life before he came along, and she’d always called him Bradley - when she was younger, it was simply out of ease for the two of them. You didn’t want to complicate things or pressure her or Bradley into forming a father-daughter relationship that they may not have wanted, especially if anything had broken down between you and Bradley. The last thing you wanted was to leave Kennedy with the sting of two father figures walking out of her life, even though part of you always knew that, had you and Bradley ever split up, he’d never just walk away from Kennedy. Despite the first-name basis your daughter was on with him, he adored her like she was his own. He was there for every moment he could be from the day he met her, wanting to make sure she had the father he didn’t growing up. He wanted to be everything his dad would have been to him, and being that for Kennedy meant the world to him.

“I think he’d love that, sweetheart, do you want to start calling him that?” You nodded your head, raising an eyebrow at your daughter as you sipped your coffee.

“I do. I, uh, hmmph,” Kennedy frowned, clearly struggling to find the words she was looking for, “I talked to Dad last weekend about it,” she finally said, nodding her head slowly as she spoke.

Kennedy and her biological father had a strained relationship, Kennedy only visiting him due to the court-ordered custody arrangement in place governing visitation rights until she reached 12 years of age. Kennedy hated leaving to go stay with him, she never felt comfortable being with her father’s new family that he’d replaced her and her mom with, but she did it reluctantly every weekend, after a chat with Bradley reminded her that despite everything that had happened between Kennedy’s biological parents, her father still deserved to see her once in a while, until Kennedy was old enough to make that choice for herself.

“You talked to your dad? How did that go?”

“Well…I told him that I wanted to start calling Bradley my dad too, he was sort of ok with it, but, I also told him that, I, uh…” Her voice trailed off again as she chewed the inside of her cheek once again, to the point where you were almost concerned about how nervous she was.

“Kennedy, baby, this is about more than just asking to call Bradley your dad, isn’t it?”

Kennedy slowly nodded her head and pulled out a stack of papers from her school notebook before setting them on the table in front of you. Your eyes skimmed over the words typed out across the page, a State of California emblem emblazoned on the top.

“Kennedy, where did you get these?” You said slowly, trying to process what your daughter was hinting at.

“The internet. It’s not hard to find them. I want Bradley to sign them for me. Dad said it was ok.”

“Your father ok’d this?” You raised your eyebrows in disbelief as you read the paperwork over once more.

“He said if it would make me happy, then he was ok with it,” Kennedy stated matter-of-factly as she nodded her head.

“Mom, I want Bradley to adopt me.”

You bit your lip and nodded your head, fighting back tears that threatened to spill from your eyes as you listened to your daughter. A smile formed on your face as you made eye contact with Kennedy, whose own eyes were starting to fill up with tears as she waited for your reaction.

“Kennedy, you know Bradley would be honoured by that,” You finally said, pulling Kennedy in tightly for a hug.

“Do you think I should give them to him as a Christmas present?” She said thoughtfully, pulling her head back to look at you for a moment.

“I think that might be the best Christmas present you could give him, Kennedy.”

A few weeks later, Kennedy proudly stuck a gift box under the tree for each of her parents. She grinned over at her mother as the pair waited for Bradley to come down the stairs after his usual morning shower. Kennedy took her seat on the couch with her stocking in hand as she began unwrapping the items inside, waiting not-so-patiently for Bradley to emerge in his sleep pants and sweatshirt. Finally, you could hear his heavy footsteps coming down the wooden stairs, the stairs making their usual creaking sound under Bradley’s frame as he bounded down them. You kissed his cheek and handed him his coffee before smiling at him. Bradley looked at you both, his lips curling up into a grin from under his mustache.

“There’s my two favourite girls. Get anything good in your stocking from the Big Guy, Kennedy?” Bradley chuckled as he raised his coffee mug in gesture to the stocking at Kennedy’s feet.

“Braaaaaadleeeeeyyyy,” Kennedy groaned as she huffed and rolled her eyes, “I’m not a little kid, I know it was you who put the stockings out.”

“Me?!” Bradley exclaimed in faux-surprise, “Trust me, I may fly a jet, but I’m no Santa.”

You and Kennedy rolled your eyes in unison as Bradley grinned at you from behind his coffee cup, taking a sip of the warm, creamy brown liquid as he watched Kennedy open a gift. Bradley took his usual seat - his favourite old worn-out lazy boy recliner chair that he’d brought with him when the two of you moved in together. At first you’d protested its mere existence in your home, but, Bradley had insisted you’d grow to love it, and naturally, he wasn’t wrong. It was the chair he and Kennedy used to snuggle up in when she was small, where he’d teach her the rules of baseball and football as they watched games together. Where he’d sit to read to her each night when she was little, proudly taking on the role of professional storyteller for the household. It was the chair where he sat every birthday and every Christmas morning, watching Kennedy open her presents expectantly, watching in anticipation for her reaction every time.

Finally, after the number of presents remaining unopened under the tree had dwindled to just one, Kennedy looked to you with a smirk before scooping the box up in her hand and passing it to Bradley with a grin, trying her best to keep herself from giving the gift away with her reaction alone.

“Here, Bradley, this one’s for you!” She said as she nodded her head, stepping back for a moment as Bradley opened it.

“It’s…an envelope?” Bradley laughed softly and raised his eyebrow, “Kiddo, you got me an envelope? How did you know I needed one of these?!” He teased as he gave her a playful pat on the arm.

Kennedy rolled her eyes and laughed as Bradley opened the envelope. He paused for a moment to read the papers in his hand. As the realization hit him Bradley quickly raised his hand to his face, using a finger to wipe away a tear. He looked up at Kennedy in disbelief and shook his head as he began grinning at her.

“Kennedy, kiddo, you mean it? You want me to adopt you?” Bradley’s voice cracked as he spoke. He was never overly emotional like this, but, you knew that the little girl he’d practically raised for the last five years asking him to adopt her would be one of those few instances that would evoke tears from him.

“I mean it…Dad.”

Bradley set the envelope down on the table in front of him and threw his arms around Kennedy, pulling her in for one of his famously tight hugs. He pressed his lips to her forehead in a gentle, nurturing kiss before looking down at her.

“I love you, kiddo. You wanting me to be your dad means more to me than any award or rank the US Navy could ever give me, you know that?”

#bradley bradshaw x reader #bradley bradshaw #bradley bradshaw fic #bradley rooster bradshaw #bradley bradshaw x you #bradley rooster bradshaw x reader #bradley rooster bradshaw x you

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marshymallo · 9 months ago

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FIC RECS: 「 stranger things 」

this list is subject to change every time i find new works to add to the collection

「 Nine Facts, One Lie ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

Synopsis: It didn’t matter that your best friend Robin claims he’s changed, you do not like Steve Harrington. He used to be egotistical, a player, an asshole — and you’re not in any hurry to believe he’s changed his ways. Never mind that he seems terribly kind now, compliments here and there, or even that he’ll pick you up from a date gone horribly wrong…

「 You Shook Me All Night Long ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader on AO3 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+, PLUS SIZED!READER, MENTIONS OF BULLYING AND DIET CULTURE, SET PRE-SEASON 3

Synopsis: Steve had never pictured himself ending up here - working for minimum wage at an ice cream shop, wearing a fucking sailor costume. But hey, life catches up to you and plans change. He also never would have guessed that someone who had been sitting quietly in the background of his life for years would secretly be the hottest babe of the century - and in the moment he found that out, he had never been more thankful for ice cream minimum wage slavery and the stupid outfit you seemed to find adorable.

「 Maneater ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+, DOM!READER

Synopsis: “I thought she’d be like mean and shy but not she wasn’t shy at all-she’s like-she’s like a man eater-Definitely an apex predator if I’ve ever seen one. Steve she was looking at you like she wanted to eat you”

「 Tequila & Strawberry Lipgloss ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader x Robin Buckley 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+, ZERO SEXUAL INTERACTIONS BETWEEN STEVE AND ROBIN (FOCUS IS ON READER), PART 1 OF 4 IN THE “DRINKING IN YOUR LIPS” SERIES (OTHER 3 PARTS ATTACHED TO THIS POST)

Synopsis: you’re dating steve and you think robin’s hot.

「 Jealous Steve Watches You Flirt ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

WARNING: HEATED MAKEOUT SESSION

Synopsis: when returning back to the trailer, an unexpected bump in the road causes reader to flirt her way out the situation, leaving a very jealous steve harrington to watch.

「 Code Red ~ Steve Harrington x Fem!Reader 」

WARNING: CONTAINS SMUT 18+

Synopsis: Dustin has the worst timing and stumbles on a secret relationship

「 If The Slipper Fits ~ Eddie Munson x Fem!Reader 」

Synopsis: When one of the leads of the school play gets injured, Robin asks Eddie to fill in. He’s not to keen on the idea at first but when Robin mentions that you are in the play, and he would get to play your romantic interest, he changes his mind.

「 Stalker in Aisle 5 ~ Eddie Munson x GN!Reader 」

WARNING: BRIEF SEXUAL JOKE

Synopsis: you notice a certain curly-haired nerd frequently visiting your workplace. finally, you decide to acknowledge his stalking.

#mae’s recs #steve harrington x reader #robin buckley x reader #eddie munson x reader

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persevereforahappyending · 2 months ago

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A Beacon in the Dark |8|

Pairing: Joey x Reader

Summary: Joey likes helping people, it's what she's best at. Hunting down the monsters of myth and legend might be the best way to save people.

Warnings: Threats, Language, Broken Bones, Talk of Death, Talk of Sacrifices

Word Count: 5.9k+

Main Masterlist | Series Masterlist

“Are you sure?” You asked, not taking your eyes off the bulletin board in front of you.

Your arms were crossed as you stared at all the research. There were old newspaper clippings going back a couple hundred years ago, old photos of shadowy figures that somehow never appeared clearly, and current photos and articles all from within the last year. It was evidence you and Grace, mostly Grace, had gathered over the years. Grace had been working on this case since before she had even found you.

“Yes,” Grace said confidently. You released a deep sigh. “This is the closest we’ve ever come.” You nodded, it was true, you had never had the location of this group until now, it was always gathering evidence and narrowing down the location before. It was too big of an opportunity to pass up, despite what day it was, this day was actually the reason you couldn’t afford to wait.

“I’ll go alone. Take them down and be in and out before the moon even rises.”

“No,” Grace instantly denied. “It’s too dangerous. You need a partner, I-”

“No!” You snapped. You closed your eyes and took a deep breath then slowly released it; you did that a few more times before opening your eyes again. “I’m sorry,” you whispered, much more calm than before. “But you can’t come.” You looked up at Grace, she was just staring at you softly, she hadn’t even reacted to your outburst, she was used to it by this point after all.

“Then it has to be Joey.”

“No,” you shook your head. “It’s too dangerous. She can’t, not today,” you stared Grace in the eye, pleading with her to just let you go alone.

“You can’t do this one alone.” Grace stepped forward and gently rested a hand on your arm. You were sure she could feel the tension, your entire body felt stiff, like you’d snap at any moment.

“Not tonight, it can’t be tonight.” You knew how useless it was to beg. It wasn’t even Grace’s fault, if she had control then there was no way she’d even consider doing a mission today of all days.

“This is our only shot,” Grace said the words you already knew. “Otherwise, we have to wait another year, more girls will die, and we’ll be having the exact same conversation.” Your head dropped to the floor, and you gave a small nod, not able to lift your head again. “I’ll call Joey.”

You nodded again as Grace stepped back to call Joey. You usually liked making the call, you liked talking to Joey, especially since you only saw her for missions for the most part. You knew you couldn’t call her for this one though, you’d say something stupid and talk her out of joining you, then you’d be on your own and would probably get yourself killed. Grace wasn’t wrong either, even if you didn’t go today, you’d be having the exact same conversation next year, these people just happened to do their little ritual at the most inconvenient time for you, every year, like clockwork.

“Alright,” Grace said, walking back over to you after finishing up with Joey. “She’s going to pick Caleb up from school, drop him off at a friends, and then she’s good to go, said he would just stay the night with the friend.”

“This is affecting her time with her son too much,” you whispered.

“She didn’t say anything about it over the phone,” Grace furrowed her brow.

“She probably wouldn’t,” you shrugged. Joey told you her son came first, she said she didn’t want this job interfering with her time with him too much. It had worked out perfectly before the mission with the sirens and now this one. It was only twice but you didn’t like that she kept having to ask a friend to watch her kid when she should be with him, but she was instead having to help you. “I just know she doesn’t want to disappoint him.”

Grace nodded but didn’t say anything else. You didn’t think Joey would ever have a problem telling you or Grace no when it came to Caleb. If a job really was going to hurt her time with him, she wouldn’t have any issue passing on a mission, if not leaving this job all together. If Joey didn’t say anything then it probably really wasn’t a big deal, you still couldn’t help but hate this mission even more now that you knew it was costing Joey another night with Caleb.

You still had a few hours to kill before having to pick up Joey. You spent the time going over everything you knew with Grace and what the plan was, everything had to go perfect, if the moon hit its peak and the mission wasn’t accomplished, then it was a failure. You listened to Grace and read up on the ritual, you did anything to keep your mind occupied and not focus on what would happen later. You even jumped on the treadmill and ran for about an hour until it was finally time to leave.

You hopped in your car and made your way to Joey, not even bothering to turn on the radio. You had to bring Joey back to the house so she would know exactly what she was walking into and then the two of you would head out and make it to the location before sunset. It was rare to start a mission when the sun was still up, nighttime was usually when the monsters came out and the darkness worked to your benefit but this time you were on a time crunch.

You pulled up outside Joey’s exes building just as she stepped out the front door. She looked up and started making her way to you as you came to a stop. She hopped in and as soon as the door was closed you took off, headed back to Grace’s.

“Sorry you had to find someone to watch your son,” you said, breaking the silence.

“It’s okay,” Joey said, resting her head on her hand. “Figured it had to be serious if it was this last minute and Grace was the one calling me.”

You sucked in a breath; you needed to stop being surprised by how smart Joey was. She was only half right about why Grace called her though, if it wasn’t for the fact that you’d talk her out of coming you would have called her. “It is,” is all you managed to say.

“How bad?”

You felt her eye on you, but you couldn’t turn to look at her. “Grace was researching this group before she even met me.”

“Group?”

You nodded. “Everything will make more sense when we get to the mansion. But basically, this has been going on for a very long time and this is the first time we’ve found their exact location.” Joey nodded, seeming to get why this was such a big mission. “The reason it’s so last minute is because we just learned this information and tonight is the only night we can try and stop it, every year on the same day this happens.”

“So, if we miss tonight, they get away with everything.”

“Until next year and there’s no idea if the location will be the same. If they discover we’re after them, assuming we live, despite this always taking place in this area they might pack up and move.”

“And you have to start all over.” You nodded.

You continued the remainder of the drive in silence, but you could feel Joey’s occasional glance in your direction. You also didn’t miss the way her hands fiddled around in her pockets until she pulled out a sucker. You wanted nothing more than to talk to her and ease her anxieties about the mission but all you could bring yourself to do was focus on the road ahead.

Before you knew it you were pulling up to Grace’s. Without a word you got out of the car, still held the door open for Joey, and led her back to Grace’s office. As soon as Joey stepped into the office her eyes widened and darted around the room, scanning the amount of files stacked on the floor and papers taped to the wall, this was the biggest case you and Grace had been working on and the chaos definitely showed.

“Good, you’re here,” Grace said, as she quickly shuffled through more papers. “Sorry for this being so last minute but we don’t have time.”

“I heard,” Joey said. She slowly walked around the room, and her eyes scanned the bulletin board. “This is a lot.”

“The first incident came on my radar about four years ago, one of my first actually.”

“What is all this?” She gestured around. “This is years’ worth of incidents, going all the way back to,” she looked at one of the older pieces of paper. “1800s!” Her voice went high, seeming to process the information as she said it.

“Even further actually.” Grace moved across the room to where Joey was and pulled down a paper. The original had been handwritten and nearly crumbled upon touch, but Grace had a copy scanned. The date, incredibly faded, was written in ink in the top corner, but it was still legible.

“The 1400s?” Joey asked, looking at Grace with wide eyes.

Grace nodded and stuck the paper back on the board. “There’s a few gaps, years where I couldn’t find anything,” Grace said taking in the entire board. “But I found enough in a consistent time frame to theorize this ritual takes place on this day every year.”

“What are we dealing with?”

“Witches.”

Joey broke out into a light chuckle, her eyes going from Grace to you but neither of you were laughing. “You’ve got to be kidding me, magic is real?” Her mouth fell open.

You couldn’t deny that it was kind of adorable how despite surviving vampires, facing off against a succubus, and fighting sirens, she was still surprised by things. Joey turned back to the board, seeming to be looking at it in a new light. You had done the exact same when you first learned about the case.

“What are they doing?” Joey whispered. “What’s the goal, power? Are they just crazy?”

At that you did actually let out a small chuckle. “Their victims are the same every time,” you said. “Every year around this time twelve girls go missing, usually between the ages of sixteen and twenty-three, all of them virgins.”

“You’re kidding me?” Joey raised an eyebrow. “Virgin sacrifices, really?”

You shrugged. “Classics had to come from somewhere,” you joked, you just couldn’t help yourself.

“Okay,” Joey shook her head, not even bothering to glare at you for your joke. “So, what’s the plan? Clearly, we have to stop more sacrifices from happening,” she pointed at the board again. “But how do we fight off witches? Who I assume have magic,” she really emphasized ‘magic’.

“It’s not going to be easy,” Grace admitted. “This is the most dangerous mission I could possibly send you on.” You stared at Grace, silently begging her to change her mind and not send Joey, it would be safer for everyone if you went on your own. “If you want to sit this one out,” she looked back at Joey. “I would understand.”

You clenched your jaw as you waited for Joey to decide. Knowing Joey in the short time you had you were pretty sure she wouldn’t take too kindly to being ordered to sit any mission out. You understood why Grace would give her the option; Joey liked deciding things for herself once she had all the information.

“How many girls have been taken?” Joey asked, her voice almost a whisper. You could only let out a sigh, that was enough of an answer for you.

“That we know of?” Grace said. “Hundreds but if my theory is correct, twelve girls a year since the 1400s we’re looking at”

“Thousands,” you rasped out.

“How has no one figured this out?” You saw the confusion in her brow as she tried to come up with a reason so many people could go missing and never turn up and no one else put it together.

“They try and stay under the radar, picking up the homeless, runaways, the kind of people no one will miss,” you whispered. Your eyes found a spot on the floor to focus on as you spoke, you might not have dealt with witches during your incident, but the methods were similar enough. “The few that did have people look,” you shrugged. “It’s such a big area,” you gestured to the map with the woods this took place in. “It’s not surprising when someone disappears in there.”

“Eventually cops have to let a case go cold with lack of evidence and progress,” Grace said. “All they ever had was a missing girl and her last location.”

You flicked a glance at Joey again, seeing the determined look in her eye as she stared at the board. “I’m in,” she said.

“Okay,” Grace nodded. She glanced past Joey and met your eyes; you could see she was apologetic without her even having to say sorry.

“Do you have some sort of special weapon for killing witches?” Joey asked, almost sounding hopeful but clearly knowing it wouldn’t be that easy.

You couldn’t help but chuckle and even Grace smiled at the question. “No,” Grace shook her head. “They have all the normal weaknesses of a human-”

“Decapitation,” you said, cutting Grace off. “Heart ripped out. The good stuff,” you smirked.

Joey rolled her eyes at your comment but took note when Grace didn’t deny what you said. “They’re also weak to iron. So, you’ll be armed with weapons mostly made from that.”

Joey nodded. “And what kind of power are we looking at here?” Joey flicked a glance from you to Grace. “I know I’m new to all this, but in movies there’s all different types of witches and powers.”

You and Grace glanced at each other. “We don’t know,” Grace admitted. “We’ve only come across one once. Witches like to have a coven; we got lucky to catch one on her own.”

“Are we assuming there’s twelve members of this coven,” Joey pointed to a few of the images on the board. “Because twelve sacrifices.”

“Probably at least twelve, potentially more, it depends what they’re using the sacrifices for.”

“We don’t know if this coven is the same as the one from back in the 1400s,” you added.

Joey furrowed her brow and looked back at you and then back at the board. “You don’t mean…”

“Possibly, they could be using their life force to extend their own.”

“Or maybe it’s coven tradition,” Grace said. “Some rituals are passed down, it all depends what the coven believes in.”

“Great,” Joey sighed. “So,” she turned back to you and Grace, crossing her arms. “What’s the plan.”

Grace nodded to follow her, so you and Joey did. She led the two of you to the weapons room where she once again had a large duffel already sat out and filled. You stepped forward, unzipping to see the guns, knives, and anything else useful. You furrowed your brow and pulled out a bottle of water. You held it up and raised an eyebrow at Grace.

“Holy water,” she said. You tilted your head and raised your eyebrow even more. “Just in case!” You silently chuckled and shoved the water back in the bag.

There were so many rules to witches, so many differences. No one knew what was true and what wasn’t, it’s why they were so dangerous. Some sources said witches were weak to holy water, it burned them, but it was supposed to burn vampires as well and that was bullshit. Even if the water didn’t do anything, throwing water on a witch might distract it enough to actually get a real hit in.

“You need to make sure you save the girls and get back here before the moon reaches its peak,” Grace said. You nodded, giving her a knowing look as you hoisted the duffel up and swung it over your shoulder.

“Why?” Joey asked.

“Because the ritual ends when the moon reaches its peak.”

“But-”

“Just trust me on this,” Grace wasn’t unkind, but her tone left no room for argument. “It’s better for everyone if you get back here as quickly as possible.”

Joey furrowed her brow, her eyes searched Grace’s face as if she’d find the answer she was looking for there. She looked at you and you kept your face as neutral as possible. As much as you wanted to avoid her gaze you knew that would draw more suspicion, so you met it and gave her a nod to let her know it was okay.

“Okay,” Joey said, hesitantly nodding.

Joey led the way out the door but before you could follow Grace rested a hand on your arm. You looked over at her and felt her slip something into your jacket pocket. “I’ll be listening,” she whispered. “Be careful.”

“Always,” you whispered. You tried to give her a confident smile, but it didn’t quite work out.

She gave your shoulder a squeeze before letting go, allowing you to follow after Joey. By the time you got to your car Joey was already in the passenger seat, so you tossed the duffel in the back and then hopped behind the wheel. You turned the key and started the drive, even the music Joey had turned on couldn’t keep the dark thoughts from entering your mind. It was sunny out, you rarely got daytime missions, and this one took place on a nice day. You were even going to the woods, which was your favorite place, and yet you couldn’t enjoy any of it. Deep in the pit of your stomach you just knew that this wouldn’t go the way you or Grace wanted, you just had to make sure Joey made it out alive.

You were almost an hour into the drive and still had another twenty minutes. You kept glancing up at the sky, the sun was still up, but you couldn’t help but focus on the long drive. When you got done with the mission you still had over an hour’s drive to Grace’s, if you were late at any part, you would be pushing your luck. The last thing you wanted was to be in the car when the moon rose, Joey would have better luck out in the woods, maybe. You kept flexing your grip around the steering wheel and you could feel Joey side eyeing you and your fingers every time they tightened just a bit more.

“You’re tense,” Joey said. She kept her head facing forward but you knew she would be aware of every move you made.

“It’s a dangerous mission,” you said.

“They’ve all been dangerous so far.”

“This one’s different.” You rolled your neck, trying to get rid of the irritation from the simple questioning you usually never had a problem with.

“Clearly.” You didn’t need to turn to know Joey was now facing you, her eyes scanning your face, looking for the most subtle reaction to anything she asks or what you might say. “You and Grace are acting different, keeping things secret.” You clenched your jaw and tightened your grip on the wheel a bit more. “You’re keeping something from me.”

“You know everything we know about the mission,” you tried to brush it off. You tried to focus on your breathing, the steps were simple, deep breath in, then slowly release it through your nose.

“Yeah but-”

“Just drop it!” You snapped, your voice getting deeper than you had intended. You didn’t look but it didn’t go unnoticed how Joey flinched from the power in your tone.

You closed your eyes for half a second, took a deep breath in then slowly released it. When you opened your eyes again you flexed your fingers, relaxing your grip just a bit on the wheel for the first time since you left. “I’m sorry,” you rasped out. You still didn’t look at Joey, you weren’t sure you wanted to see the look on her face. “I shouldn’t have snapped at you like that.”

Joey watched you for a moment. You really wanted to know what was going through her head, but you still refused to look at her. “It’s okay,” Joey finally said but her tone sounded almost cautious, like she wasn’t sure how you’d react.

“No, it’s not.” You looked down, you hated her simple questioning getting to you. “You’re just asking questions, rightfully so,” you admitted. “Just because I’m irritable today doesn’t mean you deserve for me to take it out on you.”

“Are you okay?” She asked after a moment.

You flexed your hands again. You turned down a dirt road, finally arriving at the woods. “Yeah,” you sighed. “We just need to do this as quickly and safely as possible.”

Joey nodded and remained silent the rest of the drive. You continued to drive down the dirt road until you finally got to a clearing. It was technically a park, and the area was still open to the public, but people didn’t go to that specific area too often. During all your research you learned that hikers and campers who came to the park tended to not come back. Some missing people were found miles away, completely out of their minds, rambling nonsense. Whether that was because the witches did something to them, or they were just they traumatized, you still didn’t know.

You put the Jeep in park and looked up at the sky again, the sun was still shining but when you glanced at the GPS you knew there was still a bit of a hike, and you probably wouldn’t make it until the sun started to set. Any other day you were sure hiking through these woods at sunset would be gorgeous, what you would give to be there not on a mission and freely run through the woods.

“Ready?” You asked.

When Joey nodded in confirmation the two of you hopped out of the car. Almost as soon as you stepped out of the car you could feel the shift in the air. It was fall and already a bit chilly to most people, but this was different, when the wind blew you seemed to be able to feel the chill down to your bones.

As you grabbed the bag of weapons from the back Joey looked around, seeming to analyze the empty parking lot. Calling it a parking lot was being generous; it was just a giant dirt area with little wood signs to indicate spots for parking. You looked down at the ground around you and back at the path you had driven down, there was only one way in or out of the area, and the only tracks you could see were from your own Jeep, meaning someone hadn’t been there in quite a long time.

You swung the duffel bag up over your head, so it was resting on your shoulder. “This way,” you said, nodding off in a direction that was the complete opposite of any intended trail.

You and Joey hiked through the woods, hopping over rocks and fallen branches. There was still plenty of light, but nothing could stop how eerily quiet it was, the only sound you could hear was the crunch of leaves beneath your and Joey’s boots. If the witches had any scouts watching out for unwanted guests, you were surely going to get spotted. You just hoped they were either cocky enough to think no one would stumble upon them or that you were better and would pick up on them quicker than they caught onto the two of you.

“How do they even get out here?” Joey asked, huffing as she swatted a branch out of her face.

“Brooms?” you said, giving a little shrug.

Joey rolled her eyes. “At least being moody hasn’t disrupted your sense of humor,” she mumbled under her breath.

You smiled to yourself and chuckled quietly. “I’m just saying, there’s a lot of stories with witches on brooms,” you held your hands up in defense. “Everything comes from somewhere.”

Joey seemed to reluctantly nod at that. Every story involving monsters did come from somewhere, whether it be eyewitness accounts, survivors of whatever horror, or just made-up stuff. As you were sure Joey knew, crosses and garlic did nothing against vampires, it was all stuff made up by Hollywood. Some myths were created for film while others were created by the monsters themselves, to trick people and mislead them so their actually weakness wasn’t discovered.

You suddenly came to a stop, your head snapping up. You barely registered Joey bumping into you. “What the hell?” she asked. “What’s wrong?”

You looked around, searching for anything off, you even strained your ears, not hearing anything besides the sound of your and Joey’s breathing. “Don’t you feel that?” you whisper. You weren’t sure why but there was a significant temperature drop, like the two of you crossed some invisible threshold.

You looked down when you heard static coming from the GPS. The screen flickered from the map with the little red dot with your position to one of static. You smacked it a few times, furrowing your brow as the screen seemed to go back to normal only to shut off completely. “Shit,” you whispered, pocketing the now useless device.

“Guess, we’re close,” Joey whispered.

You glanced up at the sky one last time, it was almost set, there was just enough light still to not need flashlights yet. “Don’t leave my side.”

“Got it.”

“I’m serious,” you turned your head and looked Joey directly in the eyes.

“I know,” she assured.

You slipped off the duffel bag and unzipped it just enough to pull out a dagger for yourself and Joey. You handed Joey her dagger and as she hid it away, tucking it under her jacket you hid your own, making sure Joey didn’t see that yours wasn’t made of iron like hers. When you swung the duffel back over your head you gave each other a final nod before you began leading the way. You tried to move as quietly as possible as you approached the target location, before the GPS died you knew you had been close.

You came down a hill and pushed through some shrubbery until it finally opened up into a clearing. The two of you froze in your tracks, there was a large bonfire already started and flags circled the bonfire. Each flag was a different color and seemed to have some sort of symbol on them, there seemed to be twelve in total. You didn’t recognize any of the symbols, but the flags were certainly old, all of them caked in dirt and tattered, the edges frayed, it looked like each of them had each been in a war zone at some point in their lifetime.

“Something doesn’t feel right,” you said, taking a step back.

You looked back when Joey didn’t respond only to see her lying on the ground, passed out. “Ana!” you rushed to her side, not even realizing you called her by her real name, you dropped the duffel as you got down next to her. You gently turned her head; she looked fine, and she was still breathing, but you hadn’t even heard her go down. A branch snapping made you look up, your eyes widening as you saw several cloaked figures coming out of the shadows.

“What did you do to her?” you shouted. You carefully moved your hands away from Joey’s head and stepped over her as you stood up again. You had just taken a step, ready to face all of them on your own when your mind was invaded by a thousand whispers.

You doubled over, gripping your head as you tried to stop the voices. You couldn’t make out any of the words, they seemed to be in a different language, but it felt like each word penetrated your brain, sending a sharp pain radiating throughout your skull. You let out a scream that turned more into a growl as you collapsed to your knees. You looked up and through blurry vision you could see the cloaked figures getting closer, though you couldn’t make out any faces.

You collapsed to the ground the rest of the way, still clutching your head. You thought the only way to relieve the pain might be able to rip into your skull. Your eyes were pinched shut but you pried them open just enough to see boots in front of you, you turned your head, trying to get a look at the face under the cloak above you before everything went black.

You jolted awake, yanking your arms to the side only to have them catch. You whipped your head around, blinking rapidly to clear your vision, it was completely dark, the only light coming from the bonfire that was blazing even brighter and the moon. Your heartbeat picked up; the moon hadn’t reached its peak yet, but you could already feel the burning itch beneath your skin. You weren’t near the bonfire, but you could make out several figures cloaked in black standing around it, each of them in front of one of the flags.

“Good, you’re up,” a feminine voice said. You snapped your head in the direction the voice came from to see a cloaked figure approach out of the shadows. When she got close enough, she flipped back her hood, revealing long black hair intricately braided and a beautiful youthful face, though her eyes told you she wasn’t as young as she appeared. “You should be proud of yourself,” she paced back and forth in front of you. “It took all of us to bring you down, not many can do that.”

“What can I say,” you said, venom dripping with each word. “I’m just that good.”

The witch appeared directly in front of you in a flash. She held a knife to your throat, the silver glinting in the moonlight, you recognized it immediately, it was the one you had taken out of the duffel. “That you are,” she whispered. “It’s been a long time since I’ve seen one of you.” She smiled to herself and ran a hand down your chest. “I almost don’t want to kill you.” You snarled and lunged at her but were pulled back by the chains around your arms. She just laughed at your reaction and shoved your chest with her palm, pressing you against the tree.

“We’ve been doing this for centuries,” she said. “Everyone who’s ever tried to find us has ended up dead, did you really think you were any different?” she tilted her head.

“I’m going to kill you,” you said through gritted teeth.

She only laughed at that, shaking her head as if you were the funniest person she had ever met. “I think you’ll be a little preoccupied ripping apart your little girlfriend over there,” she nodded her head across the way at another tree. You looked in the direction to see Joey tied to a tree as well, though with rope.

You snarled at her and strained against the chains, trying to break away with the intent to rip the witches head clean off once you did so. She clicked her tongue at you and waved a disapproving finger. “Patience,” she said, giving what was probably her closest thing to a sweet smile. “It’s almost time,” she pointed up at the sky. “I’ll see you when you’re done with your meal,” she smiled, running her hand down your chest once more before turning and heading back to her coven.

You struggled against the chains, trying everything to break free. You could feel your body getting hotter, the itch to tear off your skin getting stronger. You shook your head, trying to fight back against those thoughts and keep control for as long as possible. “Are you okay?” you called out.

“Yeah,” Joey said.

“You need to get out of here.” You looked up at the sky, the moon was only getting higher. “Do you still have that knife-” your words instantly died when you heard the sound of the rope dropping to the ground.

Joey ran over to, instantly assessing the chains restraining you. “Way ahead of you,” she smirked. “We need to get these off.” She lifted the chain, looking for a way to break them.

“Don’t,” you said, whipping your head around, trying to get her attention. “You need to leave.”

“I’m not leaving you,” Joey appeared in front of you.

“You need to go,” you insisted.

“No, we’re in this together.”

She reached up to caress your cheek, but you backed away from her touch. “Now!” your voice got deeper, taking on an almost animalistic sound. Joey slowly retracted her hand and took a step back away from you. You dropped your head and closed your eyes, you just needed to keep control for a few more minutes.

“My pocket,” you said through gritted teeth.

Joey seemed to understand as she hesitantly stepped forward again and began digging around your jacket pockets until she pulled out the device Grace gave you. “What is it?” she asked, turning the small device in her hand.

“A tracker.” You slowly opened your eyes and looked up at Joey again. “Press it and Grace will be here, but you need to run like hell first.”

“I can’t just-”

You doubled over as your knee snapped back. “Wha the fuck,” Joey whispered, slowly stepping away from you. Your arm shot out, pulling against the chain before your elbow snapped in the opposite direction it should go. You collapsed to your knees, your back arching as your bones continued to snap and rearrange.

You pressed your hands into the ground as your shoulder dislocated, making itself bigger. You felt your claws begin to rip through your fingers before they were finally digging into the dirt. You could taste copper as your fangs tore through your gums. Your head snapped up and through gold-filled eyes you could see the horror on Joey’s face. “Run!” you growled out.

Your body continued to twist and turn, your bones snapping apart and reforming in a different direction. You ripped your jacket and shirt off, looking for any sense of relief. The last thing you saw before everything went black and your mind was overtaken with the natural desire to hunt, and kill was Joey running away from you.

Your mind, human mind was locked away as the beast took over. The transition was complete, and the beast stood tall on its hindlegs. It snarled and snapped its jaw until its ears twitched, picking up the sound of chanting. Its eyes snapped to the group of witches surrounding the bonfire, its other ear twitched, picking up the rapid heartrate of someone running away. It let out a thunderous growl before ripping its left arm forward, instantly snapping the chain, it repeated the action with the right arm. The beast stood to its full height, tilting its head as it looked from the witches to the direction of the person running, it let out a snarl before taking off, having decided who it wanted to kill first.

Taglist: @thinking1bee @so-to-aqui-pelas-fic @alexkolax @pianogirl2121 @thatshyboy1998 @chxrry-lov3 @bella423 @morganismspam23

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