#the way they'd go through hell and back for each other

[hcneymooners]

⋆ i am afraid i will love you forever.

ambessa x sugar baby!reader x sevika. men & minors dni.

synopsis: ambessa & sevika are married for business reasons but cannot stand each other. however, they love you—you who are unaware that they are together.

cw: age difference, older woman/young woman, polyam but is it really bc they just love you and not each other, sugar baby!reader, business moguls!ambessa & sevika, power dynamics, power imbalance (you're a sugar baby, lol), sw, pining, non-sexual intimacy, sexually explicit content, threesome, cunnilingus, vaginal fingering, oral sex (everyone is receiving at some point), masturbation, exhibitionism, voyeurism, dom/sub, sub!reader, dom!ambessa, switch!sevika, mommy kink, strength kink, face-sitting, face fucking, possessive sevika & ambessa, y'all there's a lot of nastiness in here idk if i can warn for it all, discussions of sexuality, implied assault (non-graphic, within conversation), slightly dub-con, angst, angst with a happy ending, misunderstandings, arranged marriage, sexual tension, hate sex, bisexual!reader.

wc: 10.3k

PLAYLIST.

notes: y'all, i'm going to hell. i had fun with this. i have such a soft spot for plots like this.

ACT I: CONCEPTION. you were used to feeling like a guest in your own life, everything fleeting, everything temporary.

sugaring was something inherently lacking permanence, even in name. it was sweet for a moment, full of gleaming gifts that you accepted with perfect tears in your eyes.

you had more than enough money, saved from endless months in which you traipsed across the world in the hands of older men. maybe it was about the attention now, this idea that you were still young enough to be considered enticing without effort. maybe it was the desperation to wring what you could out of an age gap connection before you became the older one.

still, in the beginning years of your twenties, you found it increasingly grating. very quickly, you understood that the men were the main problem.

they were all the same: fleshy jowls wiggling as they chewed thickly through caviar and jasmine rice, their boisterous laughs sailing across tables when you attempted to join conversations. they took your interests and re-explained them to you, returning them pulpy and distorted as they attempted to convince you that you didn't understand them the way they did. their self-importance clung to them like cheap cologne.

the rare occasions where you actually slept with them were mercifully short, and you learned to suspend yourself out of your body. you would imagine hovering somewhere over yourself, banished to the lavish mirrored ceiling of the ritz or whatever opulent hotel they'd chosen. they shuddered awkwardly above you, and afterward, you'd come back into yourself only to scrub viciously at your skin under the unforgiving spray of the shower.

the women were different—usually. you found yourself drawn to their luxury perfumes and high society drawls. it was because of this that you dropped working through an agency—which you had originally chosen to better protect yourself from male clients—and began independent contracting.

you kept a private log of the ones you liked best. there was the private university professor (who was really a nepotism baby) who loved to wear le labo matcha 26 and smelled so deliciously of fig whenever she kissed you that you sometimes bought the fruit just to continue tasting her. her nickname for you was something in greek—μωρό μου, you think. moro mou. she told you it meant 'my baby', but in all honesty, she could have called you anything. you just liked hearing her speak.

you were a dreamy, distant creature. your appeal lay in your ethereal quality, moving through the world in a way that suggested you were detached from it. people described your presence as lingering, smokey and soft, like a fading perfume in a sunlit room. there was something endearing about the tilt of your head, the deliberate pause in your movements and speech as you stewed in thought, that made people stare a second too long.

you had plied yourself with romantic imaginations since you were younger, when you first grew to hate your mother. that hatred had led you across far waters into a glittering life of your own making. but you'd learned that women could be just as dangerous, if not more so. they could ensnare you, shatter your heart with just the flicker of a glance.

so, of course, this meant that you were bound to get caught in the tides of extensive affection at some point. you just didn't expect it to be with them.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the first sign should have been the unusual nature they coaxed from you.

you typically focused on one relationship at a time, securing yourself to a single person until you became too honest or too sensitive or too old. but with them, you fo​​und yourself with what you called a roster—a term your best friend and fellow sugar baby clleo (yes, two l's) took issue with during your weekly brunches.

"it's not a roster when it's only two women, [name]," she said, stirring her mimosa with a silver straw.

"it's more than one, no?"

"i feel like you have to have a minimum of three." she raised an eyebrow. "though i have to admit, even two is unusual for you."

the first was ambessa.

you'd met her when you weren't even looking, at some jazz show clleo had received tickets for from her newest beau. you had been perched inside the red velvet of the box, eyes roving over the insides of the other open balcony seats. you loved to observe, to look into others' lives and pretend they could be your own.

that night, you'd worn a navy slip dress that pushed the line of being dress-code appropriate, but it was comfortable and you had been tired. your hair was elaborately braided away from your face, threaded through with silk ribbons of the same color. despite its usually disagreeable nature, you'd managed to make it look elegant enough. your skin was littered with goosebumps from the fervent blasting of the air conditioning.

for once, you'd done your makeup the way you preferred it—less blushing ingenue, more cool nudes and a dark, bold lip. in the bottom of your purse sat two rolling bullets of lipstick: one a berry shade, the other a satiny red slightly subdued by a touch of brown pigment.

your feet had been curled beneath you, your ballet flats cast aside in the corner. the rounded tops were slightly scuffed, but you only saw it as a testimony of love. again, you looked out into the crowd only to find a woman looking back.

she was utterly beautiful, and your body flushed with heat for a moment, eyes wide like a doe. her skin was a dark, rich brown that gleamed with a sheen of oil and perhaps a shimmering body mist. her hair—black and streaked with thin rivers of gray—was pulled up into a tight bun, though the front was cornrowed. her mouth was full and smooth, a small gold cuff inserted in the middle of her bottom lip.

that night, she'd worn an oversized blazer over tailored pants. your eyes caught on her diamond cufflinks, and you felt your fingers clutch tighter around the bulk of your vintage ysl clutch.

she watched you with a sense of urgency, as if you might take flight like a bird and never return. bashfully, you turned back to watch the performance and clapped politely as it came to an end. her gaze never strayed from you, and as you rose to leave with clleo, you knew that she would be waiting.

you don't remember much of what happened after, of arranging the contract and indenturing yourself to her wealth. you only remember how she made you feel, her great body towering over you as she pierced you with her shrewd gaze. she'd cupped your elbow, pulled you gently to the side so that you were less in the way. the movement was easy; you trusted her with your body immediately.

now, ambessa reigned over the entries of your leather journal as your clear favorite. everything she did further endeared you to her, and you found yourself tumbling out of bed to check your phone where it lay on the floor, desperate for her messages. you watched the device all night, its flat body connected to a limp white cord plugged into the wall—willing it to ring.

and when she did call, you were almost delirious with joy.

ambessa's world was a carefully curated exhibition of power. noxus corp dominated the skyline with its obsidian tower, all sharp angles and tinted windows that reflected the setting sun like spilled blood. you'd learned early on not to ask too many questions about her work. the corporate merger making headlines—something about expanding into the industrial district of zaun—was just background noise to the way she'd trace your collarbone with cold fingers heavy with rings.

belatedly, in the midst of your betrayal and anguish, you’d berate yourself on your refusal to engage with real life when it inconvenienced you. you could’ve caught on, dived deep into the hole of information that was the internet as clleo did when taking up with someone new. but you didn’t, you just answered her call.

she liked to dress you up. tonight, it was a paper-thin black dress that cost more than your month's rent, the fabric liquid against your skin. you'd paired it with kitten heels that made soft clicking sounds against the marble floors—ambessa preferred when you were shorter than her, easier to maneuver, to possess. your lips were stained the color of coffee, and you'd lined your eyes with something dusky and soft.

the restaurant was the kind of place that didn't list prices on the menu, where the silverware felt weighty enough to be used as weapons. you liked this style of dining; it allowed you to escape further. you could pretend that since there were no prices, every morsel you ate was free and that the woman across from you was someone whom you loved and received love back from instead of bills.

“pull your hair back,” she commanded softly when you sat down, reaching across to brush a strand from your face. her touch lingered longer than necessary. “i want to see you properly. you should never feel a need to hide from me.”

you obliged, using the elastic around your wrist to gather your hair into a loose knot. the movement exposed the necklace she'd given you last week—a delicate thing of white gold and diamonds that probably cost more than your university education. her eyes darkened with satisfaction. she liked marking you with beautiful things, preferred to communicate through touch and gifts rather than words.

you preened under her clear pleasure. the idea that you’d done something right flowed through you, sweet as sugar as was the phenomenon of female favoritism. your tongue settled behind your teeth as she skimmed the menu, ordering for you as she always did. she seemed more aware of what you liked and needed more than you had ever been.

“are you alright with sharing the roast monkfish tonight, little lamb? i’m not all that hungry, so i think we should deal with something light.”

you nodded and she smiled, chucking your chin as she flagged down the server. you squeezed your thighs together, resisting the urge to rise from your seat and sit at her side with your head resting in her lap.

the waiter arrived with a bottle of wine you were unfamiliar with, which meant it was far more expensive than your beloved six-dollar gas station sémillon. as ambessa swirled the dark liquid in her glass, her phone buzzed. her expression hardened for a fraction of a second before smoothing over.

"business," she said simply, standing. "order whatever you'd like. i'll return shortly."

you caught fragments of her conversation as she walked away—something about zaun's infrastructure and liability concerns. one hour bled into two. the waiter refilled your glass with practiced discretion, and you watched the ice in ambessa's water melt completely. your phone remained silent except for a single text: an urgent matter requires my attention. car service will take you home.

the words blurred on your screen. you'd grown used to her absences, the way she could withdraw completely into her world of corporate warfare, leaving you adrift in these expensive spaces. but tonight, the emptiness felt sharper somehow. you had, more than ever, wanted her to take you home.

it was then that the woman entered the restaurant, right as you blinked upward to dispel the gathering tears. the air seemed to shift with her presence as she absentmindley looked in your direction.

she moved with the fluid grace of someone who knew how to handle herself in the cruel maw of this world, efficient and forceful despite wearing an expertly tailored suit. her left arm caught the light strangely—some sort of advanced prosthetic that spoke of military tech or private healthcare. a significant scar bisected her face, but rather than diminishing her beauty, it enhanced her striking features.

your paths crossed at the bar while you waited for a fresh glass of wine. she ordered whiskey, neat, and her voice was rough velvet.

"you're wearing that necklace wrong," she said, not looking at you directly. "the clasp should be centered at the nape. here."

before you could protest, her fingers—warm, unlike ambessa's—were at your neck, adjusting the chain. you caught a whiff of motor oil beneath expensive perfume. you swayed slightly, pressing into her touch. she steadied you with a single finger at the beginning knob of your spine, strong where you were momentarily weak.

"i'm sevika," she said, finally meeting your eyes. something in her gaze made your breath catch. you’d never seen eyes that grey. "you look like you could use something stronger than wine."

you smiled, albeit shakily, which avalanched into finding yourself talking to her about everything and nothing—about the book of poetry you kept on your nightstand for late night reading, about the way you collected vintage coats, about how you sometimes felt like you were floating three feet above your own life.

she listened with an intensity that made you feel anchored, present in your skin in a way you hadn't felt in months. her questions were sparse but precise, each one drawing out another story, another piece of yourself you hadn't meant to expose. and then she asked you to leave with her, and the answer was quick and easy. a light, eager ‘yes’.

the speakeasy she took you to was hidden beneath an auto shop, all exposed brick and piano medleys that wrapped around you like rope. in the dim light, you noticed the way her prosthetic arm moved with incredible precision as she gestured, the way her eyes softened almost imperceptibly when you laughed. she noticed you shiver and draped her jacket over your shoulders without comment, the leather still warm from her body.

"i manage specialized acquisitions," she said when you asked what she did, her smile suggesting there was more to the story. "currently dealing with some complex merger negotiations. but that's boring. tell me more about that poetry collection you mentioned."

you talked until your voice grew hoarse, until the early hours when the city felt like it belonged only to those who were lost or hiding. when she dropped you home, she fixed your broken porch light without being asked, her movements quick and purposeful. you found out later she'd also left her number saved in your phone under 's'.

what you didn't know—couldn't have known—was that across town, ambessa was returning to the penthouse she shared with her wife of six months, their marriage a carefully hidden clause in the merger agreement between noxus and zaun's industrial empire. their shared living space was largely ceremonial, each woman keeping to their own wing, intersecting only for appearances and board meetings.

that night, sevika found ambessa in their shared study, both of them surrounded by contract papers and acquisition reports.

"the zaun infrastructure reports," sevika said, dropping a thick folder on the desk. her wedding ring caught the light—a simple band worn only within these walls.

"you're late," ambessa replied without looking up. "the board expects updates by morning."

"i had a personal matter to attend to."

"as did i."

neither woman acknowledged sevika’s missing jacket which she never was without, nor the faint perfume—your perfume—that clung to ambessa's blazer. their arrangement was clear: their marriage was business, their personal lives their own. they had trained themselves not to care what, or who, the other did in their free time.

but that night, for the first time since their arranged union, both women found themselves thinking of the same person as they worked in silence. it was one of their more agreeable evenings together.

ACT II: GROWING PAINS.

“where do you go?”

you turned, half-lidded, your hair mussed into an untamed bird’s nest. sevika lay beside you, her smile a lopsided thing—teasing, warm, a little worn. you leaned toward her instinctively, pressing a lazy finger into the shallow dimple that cut into her cheek.

she caught your wrist before you could withdraw, lips brushing the tender pulse beneath your skin before pulling you into her chest. her hand slid across your stomach, warm and heavy, before it wandered higher to pinch your nipple just shy of too hard.

the two of you had met in a hotel, yet somehow, it felt less clinical than it should have.

“what do you mean?” you murmured, breath catching as her hand stilled.

“you go somewhere,” she said, “when we fuck.”

the words hung between you, and you felt your body shift under her scrutiny. her gaze trailed the uneasy motion of your shoulder blades as you shifted upright. honesty clawed at your throat, but you tried to swallow it back. you’ve never been the tiger, only the tiger’s bride.

“i often—” you broke off, tongue darting to wet your lips. her arm tightened around your waist, as if sensing your instinct to retreat. “i tend to disassociate when i do this part of things. i’m not—what i want, i usually can’t achieve. i don’t want to make it anyone’s problem, so i float.”

“float?” she repeated softly. her tone was unreadable, but you refused to meet her eyes.

“i pick a spot on the ceiling,” you admitted, voice small. “from there, i phase myself out of my body. it’s like it’s happening to someone else.”

sevika said nothing at first, and the silence thickened as you focused on the slow, steady rise and fall of her chest. then, carefully, she shifted you into her lap, holding you there like a delicate thing. her lips found the center of your chest, pressing a kiss over your heart before trailing up to the vulnerable line of your throat.

“you do this with me?”

“not always,” you whispered. “you’re…different. you pay attention to me—what i need. only two other people have ever been that way. both women.”

“mmm. do you still see them?” her voice was calm, but you caught the subtle current of possession beneath her words.

“only one.”

“and?”

“it’s good with her. one of the best.”

“and what do you want?” she pressed. the question lodged itself in your chest. “you said you can’t achieve it.”

your cheeks burned, and you squirmed in her lap, but she held you fast. “i—this is embarrassing.”

“there’s nothing embarrassing about your desires, baby girl,” she murmured, her tone soothing. “i wouldn’t be here if i didn’t want you to enjoy this too.”

“i do enjoy it, but…i’d like to go further. i like to go under.” you hesitated, then added, “you know that i’m—”

“submissive,” she finished for you.

you nodded, your voice softening as you continued. “i don’t really like the harsher aspects of submission, but i love being taken somewhere else—being softer. i love being told i’m good, that i’m doing well. i love being pushed past my limits, to the point where i’m…hazy. overstimulated. freed from my worries through my body, through the pleasure i give and receive.

“when you manhandle me, when you pull me close and push into me like you’re starving for it, when you break me apart with your mouth, i get so close. i hover in this warm heaven where i’m nothing but what i feel. you know?”

sevika’s expression softened, her face almost unbearably open. before you could process it, she moved, pressing you into the mattress beneath her. her broad frame blotted out the light, sheltering you in a cocoon of warmth and safety.

“you are good, baby,” she finally said. “so good.”

her lips fell again to your neck and you felt her slide her thick fingers into the warm walls of your cunt. a sound slid from your throat, something gutteral and worn. she began to move, curling her fingers as if you pull you closer. there, in the back of your mind, was that heaven.

she kissed your temple, her lips lingering there as your body arched into her hands. “thank you for telling me.”

then, softer: “that heaven? i want to take you there.”

the words sank into your skin, heady and heavy, as if she’d whispered she loved you.

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ambessa had endured a long day—one filled with tedious negotiations and the peculiar frustrations of ruling over people who thought themselves her equals. she'd craved just one moment of quiet in her house, but fate, it seemed, had other plans.

when she stepped through the door, the sight of her wife pacing their kitchen dragged a weary sigh from her chest. sevika's movements were sharp, her broad shoulders taut beneath the worn leather of her jacket. even now, after months of marriage, seeing sevika in their shared space felt like an intrusion.

for a fleeting moment, ambessa considered turning around, but she hadn’t built empires by running from conflict.

“sevika,” she began, voice clipped, “if this is about zaun’s profit percentage in the acquisition, i suggest you take it up with legal. i’ve no patience to discuss business tonight.”

“it’s not that,” sevika muttered, her tone bristling with frustration. “but thanks for your grace, medarda.”

ambessa’s eyebrow arched. “then what?”

sevika stilled, the weight of her gaze pinning ambessa in place. “are you the other woman?”

for a moment, the words didn’t register. then irritation flared, swift and hot.

“i thought we agreed we weren’t in love,” ambessa replied, dry as the desert. “who i see outside this house is none of your concern, unless it compromises our arrangement.”

sevika exhaled sharply, the sound edged with restrained anger. she reached into her pocket and retrieved her phone, its screen casting a gentle glow across the marble counter. with a few taps, she pulled up a recent conversation.

she paused, a smile stealing across her face as she took in the selfie you'd sent of you and clleo in matching milano blaniks. the tenderness in her expression was something ambessa had never seen before.

my feet hurt but it might be worth it!! you'd texted. she had responded in record time.

looking cute, baby girl. i like the purple.

me too! they had a navy and gold pair i would kill for, but i'm trying to be responsible.

sevika's smile deepened, and this time she sent a bank transfer along with her next message.

you can be a little irresponsible.

oh, sevi. that's not what i meant.

i know. i don't mind. get them both.

"i'm sorry, but were we not having a conversation?" ambessa's voice cut through the moment like frost.

sevika snapped back to reality, her face twisting into something ugly—the expression she reserved solely for ambessa. she selected another image, and ambessa stepped closer, her eyes narrowing at the familiar necklace adorning your throat.

she recognized it instantly—it had rested on her desk just nights ago, a small token of indulgence she’d gifted you during one of your afternoons together.

you were smiling, beaming, caught mid-laugh. your hair was damp, clinging to your cheeks, and a sea lion nudged at your side. it was an image of unfiltered joy.

"she was talking to me the other night," sevika began, her voice tight as a wire. "mentioned some other woman. i thought it was a client thing, but then she showed me this." she gestured at the screen. "that necklace. it was on your desk when i saw you."

ambessa said nothing at first, her jaw working. finally, she sighed, the sound heavy with something like resignation. “i didn’t know. i assumed she might have other clients, but i didn’t pursue her because of you.”

sevika’s shoulders sagged slightly, but the tension in her face remained. she bent her head, palms pressing into the cool marble of the counter. “what the fuck.”

“does she know?” ambessa asked after a beat.

"what would it matter?" sevika shot back, her voice rising like tide. her gaze locked on ambessa, and her lips twisted in disbelief. "holy shit. are you in love with her?"

the question hit like a blow, but ambessa’s reaction was instant.

“as if you’re any better,” she snapped. her tone turned venomous, sharp as a blade. “you sulk through the door, reeking of her sex, then slink into the shower as if i can’t hear you simpering in there.”

sevika straightened, anger sparking. “and you’re what? innocent?”

ambessa’s laugh was cold, cruel. “i’ve never been innocent a day in my life. but you—god, sevika, you’re pathetic. you’re worse than i thought.”

sevika’s fists clenched at her sides, but she didn’t lash out. instead, she held her ground, her gaze fierce. “what do we do now?”

ambessa hesitated. her mind raced through the implications, the potential fallout. finally, she crossed her arms, her posture stiff. “we don’t tell her.”

“and keep lying to her?” sevika’s voice cracked slightly. “how long do you think that’ll work?”

“as long as it has to,” ambessa replied, her voice low and final. “this arrangement isn’t just about her, sevika. it’s about us. about what we’ve built. if you care about her as much as you claim, you’ll think before ruining what little stability we have left.”

“for fuck’s sake, ambessa. she’s a sweet girl. she won’t—”

“you have no idea what she will do if she finds out,” ambessa hissed. “and i know how sweet she is. she’s the only goddamn person i know who can stand me. who do you think i’m really protecting?”

for once, sevika had no retort. the silence between them was loud, heavy, filled with unsaid things.

“i’ll handle it,” ambessa said after a long pause, her voice softer now but no less firm. “but don’t let your feelings make you sloppy. if you can’t compartmentalize, this will all fall apart.”

sevika turned away, her shoulders tense. “it’s already falling apart.”

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ambessa didn’t sleep that night.

not because of sevika’s words—though they lingered like a sour taste in her mouth—but because of you. she’d grown accustomed to the softness of your skin beneath her fingers, the way your presence softened the edges of her world, made it almost bearable. and yet, she couldn’t shake the nagging thought that you might be nothing more than collateral damage in this carefully constructed house of cards.

the following morning, as sunlight filtered through the sprawling windows of her office, ambessa reached for her phone. her fingers hovered over your contact, her mind warring with itself. she’d always prided herself on her control, on her ability to compartmentalize. but now, for the first time in years, she felt the cracks forming.

her phone buzzed before she could decide, sevika’s name flashing across the screen.

“what now?” ambessa answered, her tone clipped.

“the gala,” sevika began, her voice unusually subdued. “this year it’s your turn to host, right?”

ambessa’s grip tightened on the phone. “yes. and what about it?”

“and,” sevika said, dragging out the word, “she’ll be there. she got an invite through one of her clients.”

the air seemed to still around her. “you’re certain?”

“positive,” sevika replied. “what do you want to do?”

ambessa leaned back in her chair, her gaze fixed on the skyline. the decision should have been simple: handle the event with poise, maintain appearances, and ensure that you remained blissfully unaware. but something about sevika’s tone made her pause.

“we’ll stick to the plan,” ambessa said finally. “she doesn’t know, and she won’t find out. not from us.”

they both knew it was only a beautiful dream.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

and then suddenly, it was different. it was horrible in its subtleness, but enough to make you less comfortable than you were before.

you went to dinner. ​​ambessa watched you with eyes as sharp as her diamond cufflinks, and you wondered if she knew how small you felt in her presence. you let her brush her thumb over your lower lip, and you leaned into it, hoping she doesn’t notice your hands gripping your clutch too tightly.

“is something wrong?” you asked her, throat closing around the end of the question.

she seemed to startle, and leaned back with a shake of her head. you knew what was coming next. she was going to blame work or her family, which you barely knew about, or maybe something as clandestine as the weather. you suddenly felt entirely too sick. you took a sip of wine, eyes falling on the little brown bag that sat next to you.

every gift you unwrapped felt a little like a goodbye, the sparkle dulled by the unspoken terms behind it. you kept smiling, face stretching tediously through the pain though your heart was sinking because nothing ruined a good arrangement faster than too much honesty.

you must’ve overstepped somewhere down the line, and she had grown weary of it. you were sweating now, looking away from her. it didn’t help that your phone had stayed dark all evening, your slew of messages to sevika read and unanswered.

“i finished that book you gave me,” you offered and ambessa nodded. “it was lovely. a little macabre, but i managed to push through.”

“bessa?” you asked, voice small.

the nickname seemed to spur her back into herself and she reached across the table, clutching your hand. her rings pressed cold indents into your skin. you'd grown to love the weight of them.

"the annual noxus environmental gala is tomorrow night," she said finally. her thumb traced circles on your palm. "i'd like you to come."

your heart stuttered. she'd never invited you to a public event before. "another client already invited me. i’ll be there."

she squeezed your hand once before letting go, unfazed by the mention of someone else. "good."

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the evening was opulent in a way that made your skin prickle. the ballroom shimmered with soft golden light, chandeliers casting their glow across marble floors that reflected everything like still water.

you'd been invited by marcus—a client who preferred your company over dinner to discuss art and literature, who looked at you like you were made of gold but never asked for more than conversation. he was safe, a spiderweb you could free yourself from anytime without losing any skin.

your dress—a gift from ambessa—felt like a confession of infidelity. marcus had said nothing in the car, but his face had been momentarily confused. he kept track of what he gifted you, and he hadn’t seen this before. you offered no explanation, just smiled softly and held his clammy hand.

the fabric whispered against your skin with every movement, reminding you of her touch. you held your champagne glass like a shield, watching the bubbles rise and disappear, each one carrying a fragment of your certainty with it.

the past week had been strange. ambessa's usual sharp edges had softened into something almost tender, while sevika's messages had grown shorter, more distant. she’d eventually responded to the ones that had been read, but you felt as though you had disturbed her with them. you'd attributed it to work, to the upcoming shareholder conference business weekly had written about. you were good at making excuses for the people you loved.

and then you saw her.

ambessa stood on the stage like she'd been born there, her voice carrying across the room with the kind of authority that made everyone else feel small. her dress was long and white, with a delicate slit framing the plump skin of her thigh. it clung to her frame with an elegance that made your heart ache. you didn't want to admit how your chest tightened at the sight of her, how your body betrayed you with its instinctive pull toward her presence.

but before you could fully process the sight of her, another figure emerged from the crowd.

sevika.

she stood near the base of the stage, her broad frame impossible to miss. her presence was quieter than ambessa's, but no less commanding. the way she held herself—like she belonged here, like this was her world too—made something cold settle in your stomach. you shifted away from marcus, moved slightly forward with a furrowed brow.

it wasn't just their proximity—it was the way they moved. the way sevika's gaze lingered on ambessa, the subtle nods they exchanged, as if communicating in a language only they were privy to. and then, as if to confirm your worst fears, ambessa's hand brushed sevika's arm in a gesture so familiar, so natural, that the truth hit you like a truck.

the matching rings caught the light. the world tilted sideways.

the soft hum of conversation turned to static, the lights too bright, the room too warm. you tried to steady yourself, clutching the edge of a nearby cocktail table and nearly taking it down, but the weight of realization pressed down on you like a tide. marcus was asking after you, but you snapped at him.

you thought of the gifts—how similar their tastes had been. the way they both knew too much about each other’s companies, about each other's worlds. the little moments that should have added up but hadn't—because you hadn't wanted them to. you'd ignored the signs, wrapped yourself in their separate affections like blankets against the cold.

someone nearby whispered, "isn't that their…" the words trailed off, heavy with implication. you spun, eyes wide and searching. you couldn’t tell who had spoken.

the champagne glass slipped from your fingers. it didn't shatter—caught by a waiter's quick reflexes—but the sound of it leaving your hand seemed to echo through the room. both women turned at the noise, their expressions shifting from professional neutrality to something raw and complicated.

“do you know her?” the question came from a guest nearby, their curious tone laced with amusement.

the tension shattered. the murmurs began, the subtle shifts of the crowd as more guests turned to watch the unfolding spectacle. your voice was barely above a whisper, but it cut through the gathering noise like a blade.

“how long?”

ambessa stepped forward, her movements slow and deliberate, as if approaching a wounded animal. “it’s not what you think—”

“don’t,” you snapped, your voice trembling with anger and heartbreak. “don’t you dare lie to me.”

sevika tried to intervene, her hand reaching out as if to steady you, but you recoiled, your fury spilling over. “you both knew,” you said, your voice rising. “you knew, and you let me—”

sevika tried again."baby—"

"don't." the word came out hard and cold.

you backed away, your heels suddenly unsteady beneath you. the crowd parted like water, their whispers following you like shadows. you felt that your dress was transparent, exposing your body to the their ravaging gaze. you made it halfway down the marble steps before sevika caught your arm. her touch was warm, familiar—everything you'd grown to love and now couldn't bear.

"please," she said, her voice rough with something like desperation. she couldn’t possibly understand what it meant to be desperate. "please."

"let go of me." you tried to pull away, but she was stronger. had always been stronger.

"we never meant—"

"what?" your voice cracked. "to hurt me? to make me look like a fool? do you think i love being a loser? that i would be fine because i would view this as some way of knowing what it was like to win?" you yanked harder, and suddenly you were falling.

the puddle wasn't deep, but it was enough. your dress—ambessa's dress—soaked through instantly, clinging to your skin like shame. you stayed there on your hands and knees, watching your tears make ripples in dirty water.

"stand up," ambessa's voice came from behind you, softer than you'd ever heard it. “come inside. we can—”

"no." you pushed yourself to your feet, water streaming from ruined silk. your makeup was running—you could feel it tracking down your cheeks, and somehow that small detail destroyed you more than anything else. for the first time in a long time, you felt ugly. "i don’t want to come inside."

when you looked up, they were both there. ambessa's perfect composure had cracked, showing something raw underneath. sevika looked like she wanted to reach for you again but didn't dare.

"were you laughing about it?" your voice was barely audible. "about how pathetic i was, falling for both of you?"

"no," sevika said quickly. "god, no. we didn't even know—"

"until when?"

"a week ago," ambessa admitted. the truth fell between you, landed hard.

you stepped back, barefoot now, heels dangling from one hand. "oh my god. were you ever going to tell me?”

their silence was answer enough. the air around you grew thin.

a scream rose up from the depths of you before you could stop it, and echoed wildly from the sides of surrounding buildings. you clutched at your face, eyes screwing shut as you let out a terrible heaving noise. you knew they were seeing you now as you really were: a frantic girl who clasped desperately at whatever she could get in order to save herself.

“i hate you,” you screamed at them, hurling the words like they were knives. “i hate you! i never want you to speak to me again.”

it was rendered useless because the three of you knew that simply wasn’t the truth.

“just—leave me alone,” you said, your voice barely above a whisper.

their expressions were unreadable. if you gave in to your delusions, you could believe that ambessa looked slightly ill.

you walked away, legs shaking, each step carrying you further from everything you'd thought was real. behind you, you could hear them arguing in harsh whispers, but you didn't turn around. the city lights blurred through your tears until everything was just a soft shape and shadow.

your apartment felt suffocating when you returned, the silence oppressive in its stillness. you sank onto the couch, your dress pooling around you like a shroud. the tears came in waves, each one more relentless than the last.

you thought of ambessa’s calculated charm, sevika’s quiet strength, the way they’d both made you feel seen, cherished. and then you thought of the lies. you reached for your phone, your fingers trembling as you typed out a message. but no words came. what could you possibly say? that you hated them? you’d done that. that you missed them already? that you wouldn’t know how to exist without them?

instead, you deleted their numbers, one by one, the act feeling both liberating and excruciating. for the first time in what felt like forever, you were truly alone.

your mother was right. you were such a fun girl, but impossible to love. when someone looked at you, they’d never see someone worth settling down with. another wail unearthed itself, reverberating through the grave of your body. you twisted, holding yourself with your own arms as you felt the grief break you down.

you would never see them again. there was nothing worse than this, not now. you felt like you’d be better off dead.

ACT III: DEFORMATION.

ambessa hadn’t slept in days.

the boardroom’s fluorescent lights cast harsh shadows across her sharp features as she reviewed contracts she couldn’t focus on. every word blurred into the next, her thoughts returning to the look on your face when the truth unraveled.

“i don’t think i can fix this,” she had told sevika the night it happened, her voice hollow as they sat in the dim confines of her private office.

sevika hadn’t responded, her silence cutting deeper than any argument could. ambessa could tell her wife blamed her, and in some ways, she couldn’t disagree.

sevika, in response, buried herself in her work. her nights were spent overseeing global operations, her jaw clenched tight as she barked orders to underlings down the phone who didn’t dare question her unrelenting pace.

but even the chaos of the company’s industrial sprawl couldn’t drown out the memory of you. the sound of your pleausre haunted her—high and wispy as she ate at you. her dreams were vivid, stuck on the way you’d lit up when you talked about the things you loved—things she hadn’t known enough to ask about.

they’d both lost you, and they felt it in the empty spaces you’d left behind.

ambessa, meanwhile, pulled back. she gave the reins to her daughter for an indeterminate amount of time, something viewed as largely positive and a sign of trust. but those who knew her interpreted it as a sign of grave danger.

her days were spent much like yours, wrapped in the endless heart of her bed which she only left to sink underneath the soapy water of a warm bath. there were several evenings where sevika would stumble home, slightly drunk but coherent enough to check on ambessa and yank her from the bottom of the bath.

“no,” she rasped, her hand tight on ambessa’s thick wrist. “you face it.”

and you?

well, eventually you realized that the world would continue to move on. blessedly, your breakdown hadn’t hit the headlines or social media platforms. you knew this had to be the work of them, but it was the least you deserved. you cut all arrangements you had leftover. the gifts were boxed up and put into storage.

despite your dramatics, you reminded yourself to not be stupid. all cash you had kept was deposited into your bank account, in increments so it wasn’t flagged as suspicious. you had well over thousands, so you broke your lease and found a block several miles from where you used to be.

you’d invited clleo to live with you, but she’d refused citing her current suitor as her preferred living situation. she felt that he was the one, that they would marry. you felt your bitterness rise up, but you shot it right in the middle of its scaled head. you were happy for her, you said instead of “he doesn’t mean it. please don’t believe him.”

please send an invite.

she’d cupped your face and kissed your cheek. of course. you’ve been with me through everything.

so, you broke another lease and left the city.

ACT IV: REVIVAL.

true to her word, clleo did get married, and she did more than invite you. you were her maid of honor; the only bridesmaid at that. this meant that you were captured into a lavish gown that showed more skin than you thought would be appropriate.

“we can’t forget where we came from,” clleo had said coquettishly, pressing a soft kiss to your shoulder. she treated you so fragilely now, and you clung to it. you were pretending it was something else.

the wedding was a spectacle of opulence—ivory drapes cascading from every corner of the venue, chandeliers dripping crystal tears, and flowers so fragrant they felt like an embrace. the air buzzed with the cloying sweetness of a celebration meant to declare love eternal. you floated through it all, a wraith in your own right, bound by duty and the magnetic pull of clleo’s joy. you wore the dress she picked for you: black satin that crushed in on itself like paper whenever you moved and clung like sin, with lace so delicate it felt like a secret. it revealed too much and not enough all at once. you wondered if she’d done it on purpose, if she’d wanted you to stand out or to feel exposed. to embarrass you.

no, this was clleo. you were simply…paranoid now.

the ceremony was a blur, a kaleidoscope of vows and veils, of clleo’s radiant smile and the way her hand trembled in her husband’s. you caught the bouquet because she’d aimed it at you, her laugh like champagne bubbles bursting in the air. it was later, during the reception, that you felt it—that electric hum at the back of your neck, the awareness of being watched. you turned, and there they were.

ambessa and sevika.

they stood together, an impenetrable force against the crowd. ambessa’s gaze was as sharp as ever, her golden gown gleaming meanly, a study in power and restraint. sevika, beside her, had the air of someone caught between worlds, her hand resting on a glass of something dark, her eyes locked on you. they hadn’t been invited. you knew this because clleo would have warned you. yet here they were, as if summoned by the threads of some cruel, cosmic joke.

your stomach tightened, but you refused to look away. instead, you tilted your chin, the soft wave of your hair catching the light, and took a slow sip of wine. if they wanted to haunt you, they would have to work for it.

it didn’t take long. ambessa approached first, her steps deliberate, her presence cutting through the crowd like a blade. “you look beautiful,” she said, her voice low enough that it felt like a secret. you hated how your skin warmed under her gaze.

“you shouldn’t be here,” you replied, though the edge in your voice felt dull, worn down by something deeper.

sevika joined her then, her expression inscrutable but her proximity unnerving. “we needed to see you,” she said, her voice rougher, as if it cost her something to speak.

“at a wedding? how romantic.” you let the words hang, your lips curving into a smile that didn’t reach your eyes. “good thing it’s not mine.”

sevika’s lips twitched, and you scowled. your pain was not for her amusement.

“[name], we made mistakes,” ambessa said, and for the first time, there was something fragile in her tone, a crack in the glass. it distracted you from your ire. “but we haven’t stopped thinking about you.”

you set your glass down, your fingers trembling against the crystal stem. “i don’t think this is the time or place.”

“when is?” sevika countered, her voice steady but her eyes revealing something raw. “you’ve been avoiding us.”

“i said i never wanted to speak to either one of you again and yet, here you are,” you said, your voice sharper now, cutting through the haze of alcohol and longing. “do you think crashing a wedding will fix what you broke?”

ambessa’s jaw tightened, but she didn’t look away. “we’re not here to fix it. we’re here because we can’t let it end like this. and it’s not crashing if the groom extends an invite at the behest of the bride.”

your heart stuttered, and for a moment, the noise of the reception faded into a dull roar. clleo’s laughter rang out from somewhere behind you, a reminder of where you were, of what you’d tried so hard to rebuild. why did everyone betray you?

“i can’t do this,” you whispered, stepping back. the movement felt like tearing yourself in two.

“baby girl,” sevika said, her voice low, almost pleading. “look at me. this isn’t some big scheme, okay? let’s talk. we don’t even have to do it here. we can go anywhere you fucking want. just like before, mama.”

you shook your head, the weight of their words pressing against the fragile walls you’d built around yourself. “i need air,” you said, your voice barely audible, and before they could respond, you turned and slipped into the crowd.

“[name!]” ambessa called.

fuck being the tiger's bride, you were the tiger. you stood your ground, kept walking.

🥩 ˚ ༘ ೀ⋆｡˚𓃔

the gardens were quiet, the air cool against your skin as you leaned against the wrought-iron railing. the night sky stretched endlessly above you, an intricate canvas of stars that felt too indifferent to your pain. but the world wasn’t responsible for soothing you.

you’d thought the distance would help, that the cool air would clear your head, but instead, it only magnified the ache in your chest.

you heard them before you saw them, the soft crunch of gravel underfoot. you didn’t turn, didn’t acknowledge their presence, but you felt it—that charge, that unbearable pull that had slaughtered you repeatedly since the beginning.

“i didn’t ask you to follow me.”

“we’re not asking for forgiveness,” ambessa said, her voice soft but firm. “we are willing—we’re willing to take what we can get. we want to make this right.”

you turned then, your eyes meeting hers, and for the first time, you saw it—the vulnerability, the regret. sevika stood slightly behind her, her expression shadowed but her eyes fixed on you with the same intensity.

“and what does that look like?” you asked, your voice breaking despite yourself. “what could you possibly do to undo the damage?”

ambessa stepped closer, her hand hovering near yours but not quite touching. “we can’t undo it,” she admitted. “but we can promise to be better. to show you that you’re the only thing that matters.”

“you’re both so good with words. but words don’t mean anything if they’re not backed by action.” you laughed then, a bitter sound that cut through the stillness. “you always made me feel like i mattered. that’s why it hurt so much. i have no place between you.

sevika finally spoke, her voice quieter but no less resolute. “then let us prove it. on your terms.”

“you’re not good for me.”

ambessa glided forward, caught your chin inbetween her thumb and index finger.

“nothing in this world that we want with so much intensity will ever be good for us.”

you looked between them, your heart a battlefield between desire and self-preservation. the silence stretched, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid. finally, you broke out of her grasp, a small, tentative gesture that felt like stepping off a cliff.

“i have no place between you,” you said again, your voice barely more than a whisper.

sevika's shoulders sagged with disappointment, but ambessa’s lips curved into the faintest hint of a smile. she was like a bloodhound with weakness.

“is that what you want, lamb?” you looked up at her, sensing a shift in the air. “you want to be between us? coddled, warm, and safe?”

“ambessa—” sevika began, but the other woman held up a hand.

“you would’ve been fine if you had know that we were married from the beginning, hmm? is that it? your conscience would’ve been sated, right? because it’s not homewrecking or infidelity if the partners are aware of the others transgressions.”

“that’s not fair,” you snapped.

“mmm, well life isn’t. besides, you must be stupid if you think every client you’ve been with hasn’t once had someone waiting at home. this is your life, little lamb. your permanent affliction,” ambessa sneered. “i think you like it.”

you knew this game well. she pushed you, said the best things to make you act your worst. if you gave in, she won.

“fuck you, ambessa.”

“gladly,” she said with a small smile.

you scoffed, irritated beyond belief and moved to storm past her. by doing so, you gave her what she wanted. as you made an effort to leave, she cinched your waist with her arm and pulled you back into her chest. you could feel her breasts against your back, full and ripe like fruit.

“what are you doing?” you asked incredulously.

she didn’t answer, only hiked your dress up to press a ringed hand to your cunt. she held it there, groping the warmth of you until you were leaking in response. you let out a strangled squeal, legs kicking to no avail.

“see? you want us so badly. it’s like an instinct.”

you glanced at sevika, hoping for some fucking common sense but found her gazing at your lace-clad panties with something unfathomly angry lurking across her face.

“who the fuck gave you those?” she said quietly.

you stopped struggling, looking at her fully now. her stormy gaze lifted, piercing you like a spear through weak flesh.

“it wasn’t me, and ambessa never gifted you shit like this.”

“i had—i had other clients,” you answered and she rolled her shoulders, skulking forward. “but i bought these myself. i don’t see anyone else anymore. i can’t—i couldn’t. it was hard.”

her face softened at that, and she came closer. her large body covered the front of you, shielding your exposed body from any prying eyes. this meant that ambessa could slide the fabric to the side and dip a finger into your cunt. the slide was slick due to your drooling arousal, but the pain still startled you.

she was large, almost too much, but it seemed to burst a part of you that had been straining at its locks. you let loose a silent cry, shuddering desperately in her grasp as she explored you tenderly. sevika cooed, claiming your mouth in a bruising kiss.

“hold on,” she murmured into your mouth and you clutched onto her, gripping tighter as ambessa gave you over.

sevika walked you over to a small alcove, expertly hidden from immediate vision and grunted as she held you up with one arm—removing her jacket with the other. once the concrete floor was covered appropriately, she lowered you on top of it carefully.

you released her, but barely had a moment to thank her before she was on you. your first thought was that it was like before: relentless, tender, and crushing. her hands slid up your thighs until they grasped at your hips. you rocked into her, moaning softly as she squeezed the soft meat of your stomach. your breath came fast, labored and fueled by aching.

“it’s okay, baby. ‘m right here,” sevika said, her voice low and firm.

she pulled back, spreading your legs till the pink of your pussy was revealed to her hungry gaze. it winked at her, clenching around nothing the longer she looked.

“jesus, i’ve missed this,” she murmured.

you flushed, body pulsing hot with flame. from the side of you, ambessa came prowling. she lowered herself to her knees, back arching neatly as she crawled into the apex of your thighs. her mouth descended upon you with a fervor, her lips closing around your clit and sucking. your back bowed until you were practically hunched over her, hands in her thick hair.

she only adjusted herself so that she could better lick into you, her tongue lapping at every crevice of your cunt. you were dripping all over her face, hips bucking as you fucked forward onto her tongue. her hands came to cup the peach of your ass, squeezing and tugging until you felt like nothing more than a piece of meat. after a moment, ambessa pulled back and laughed as you tried to follow.

“sorry, little lamb, but i need to know if i’m doing a good job” she watched you, eyes sharp. “i know you are.”

you shivered at that, and she smiled. impatiently, you further opened your legs and pushed your sopping pussy toward her.

“c’mon. please.” when nothing happened, you let out a groan. “you’re doing a good job.”

“who’s doing a good job?” ambessa asked, moving closer.

you shivered again, your brain beginning to mottle and smear.

“you are, mommy.”

“fuck,” sevika groaned.

satisfied, ambessa suctioned her lips back over you. you let out a high moan, pushing your chest out. sevika reached over, tugging the bust down and exposing your tits. your nipples were straining toward her, so she dragged one in between your teeth. with a cry of surprise, you slammed your thighs closed around ambessa’s bobbing head. she did nothing to open them herself, only slapped a hand on your inner thigh to get you to correct yourself.

“yes, fuck,” you cried. “fuck, please. please. ohhhh.”

ambessa shook her head back and forth, letting herself get messy as she pushed her face deeper inside of your pussy. you were fully fucking her face now, your clit engorged and begging. whatever filter you’d had before was gone now; your mouth ran like water from a faucet.

“yeah. yeah, mommy, like that. eat your baby’s cunt. lick your girl’s pink little pussy.”

ambessa moaned, her nails digging into the skin of your ass. you bounced as much as you could, that warmth coiling deep inside your stomach. sevika was still teasing your tits, but she had a hand inside of herslef now—her pants pushed down for better access.

when you realized she was trying to rub one out, you came with a primal grunt. ambessa attempted to pull back but you kept her where she was with a firm hand at the nape of her neck. breathlessly, you coaxed sevika up for a kiss and then pulled her away by her hair.

“i want you to touch her,” you instructed. your voice was shaky as you edged toward your second orgasm.

it took her a minute to register what you meant and you watched her cheeks darken, her eyes flickering toward ambessa’s rippling back inbetween your legs and then back to you.

“i know you want to, sevi,” you murmured.

your mind was almost gone now; you were so close to heaven.

you could see her warring with herself, but you also knew her love for you would win out. with a curt nod, she moved until she was behind ambessa and lifted her dress until she was face to face with her naked ass. with an efficent movement, sevika pushed ambessa’s legs open so she could smell the musk of her large cunt. there was a moment where you weren’t sure if she would obey, but then she dived in—licking a large stripe between ambessa’s folds. you seized around ambessa’s tongue as she squealed in surprise, your orgasm pouring from you like honey.

you puhsed her off of you and crawled onto all fours, squatting slightly to make the push of your fingers easier as you entered yourself. despite not pleasuring you anymore, ambessa made no effort to move as sevika slapped a hand on her ass as she slurped at her pussy.

“holy shit,” ambessa muttered and you grinned.

“have you—have you touched each other like this before?” you asked, voice breaking as you reached that spot long your walls. “did you fuck when i left to try to stave the guilt?”

there was no answer, but ambessa stiffened. you laughed, bright and a little unhinged. it was confirmation that they’d thought about, but had never actually followed through. you were in a squatting position now, positioning your hips as you rode your own fingers. you wrist twinged in discomfort, but you were more determined to cum for a third time.

faster and faster, you rode. your head was turned up toward the ceiling of the alcove, your tits bouncing as you began to crest that wave. you closed your eyes, focusing on the shaky inhales of ambessa and the wet squelches of sevika feasting on her.

there was a pause, so you opened your eyes and found sevika flipping ambessa over so that the bigger woman sat on her face. like this, she was even more insatiable. she rocked ambessa back and forth on her face, spreading her own thighs weakly as heat cascaded through her.

you weren’t sure what did it: sevika’s newfound desperation to actually fuck her wife, ambessa’s unrelenting eye contact as she came, or the high whine sevika released when ambessa leaned back to fuck two fingers into her frantically pulsing cunt.

but whatever it was ravaged you. you screamed as you came for the third time, legs trembling as you squirted all over yourself and sevika’s suit jacket. the comedown was impossible. you were incoherent, moaning wildly as the pleasure possessed you.

you heard them both scrambling to move toward you, but you held a hand out. your neck bent, your body settling onto all fours like a lame animal as you let your cunt flutter and clench through the remnants of your orgasm. your chest heaved frantically, but you were euphoric. you’d done it, reached Heaven and taken control.

you glanced up at them and know from the look on their faces, you’ve never been this beautiful. if this was what the french called a little death, you wanted to die forever.

“this is your place,” ambessa said hoarsely. “you belong right in the center. you are the only one who understands. you are our center.”

sevika lay next to her, and she said nothing for a long while. then her face turned toward you. you met her gaze unflinching.

“baby girl, please. please.”

you thought you were the loser.

“it has to be different,” you finally said. the two women broke into identical smiles. “it has to be. i want you to be transparent with me. i’m not a little child.”

you thought you were down for the count.

“like you said,” you continued, staring right at them. “you are my life. this is my life.”

but here you were, the last woman standing.

© hcneymooners.

⚚ special taglist: @venusiandyke @thatonetargaryen @drgnflyteabox @y2kas13 @baeumonde @blackdykegirlblogger @slut4sevika @sevikasllver @indigopearl96 @dut1fuldyk3 @imheadintothemountains @bambishaven @kirammansbow @sidefanficaccounttohidemyshame @nightlyconfusion @sevikasrightboob @half-of-a-gay @nsfwruru @yourlovesicklibra @tnash-tammy @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @bluferret @doppelman @savedforlaterr @sevikasserafim @fruitfulfashion @soniiyi @namuranguinhos @16novvs @bubblestrbls @spidercat-soccerfan @pllduniverse @sugrcookiiee @iwasholic @sevslefthand @starting6over @fxngsfxgxrty @leone007 @ambessaswhore @jvalentinelvr @bella-goths-wife @maaaaaaaaaaari @elena0497 @powderpinkandsweeet @sweetcinnamoncookie6 @pearldaisy @sevikas-whore @wolfessa @lazyartizt

[evilminji]

Okay but? We of the DPxDC? Are COMPLETELY Sleeping on DPXBNHA?

And not even for the Main Plot Shenanigans!

Just?? It has ALL of DC's super powers? But MORE OF THEM. And like 80% of the population has um! Danny can?? Finally achieve his DREAM of being???

JUST SOME DUDE™!

Yeah, he's in Japan. That's a bit of a learning curve. And YEAH, there was a cataclysmic war like a few centuries back that sorta... fucked everybody up. No one wants to talk about it. There may be mass graves and Never Forget memorials. But?

On the SURFACE!

This place seems utopian!

No ghost hunters! Advanced technology! Robust social services*!

Wait... what was that asterisk? What do you mean "corrupt shadowy government organizations"? What do you MEAN "Immortal Supervillians"? NO SPACE PROGRAM!?!? AaaaaAAAAAAAAAAH?!?!? I'M IN HELL!!! This is ACTUALLY THE BAD PLACE, THIS IS HELL, OH GOD NOOOOOOO-!!!!!!

Cause see?

There are SO MANY REASONS he'd end up there?

Think about it! Wish that he lived somewhere his weird biology wouldn't exclude him from becoming an astronaut? In Quirks having Bnha Japan EVERYBODY has weird biology! Y'ain't special! You could TOTALLY be an astronaut!..... if we HAD those! We do not. Shut down that program during the Quirk Wars and never really started it again. (And somewhere, Desiree LAUGHS)

Or MAYBE? Things are getting a little hot on the ground? Bit TOO spicy. The Family Fenton and Friends have fallen back, behind the barely holding shields. Not even the Mansons considerable political maneuvering could stop the inevitably of human fear and blind unthinking hatred. Money can't buy everything, in the end. There is only ONE(1) way out.

Through the Zone.

Plan: Strangers In A Strange World is a go.

They're all Limnal enough to fake it. Sam with her plants. Tucker with his technology and persuasion. Jazz with her limited empathy. Their parents with their... well, weirdness. And with a touch of ghostly assisted meddling? Well, they've always BEEN there! Haven't they?

And that's not to MENTION the random 4 year olds with no control! JUST coming into their powers! With all those big emotions in tiny bodies? Startling events and tantrums? Villian attacks? What could THEY possibly hope to do to control or guide that fresh new power? It does what it does and the rest of us are just along for the ride!

If Danny happens to be minding his business and gets accidentally kidnapped by a VERY distraught 4 year old? Well, that's hardly the KIDS fault, now is it? They're FOUR! That is basically a toddler! Tiny child! They are upset, confused, and didn't mean to do ANYTHING. He's a hero. And Heros don't blame little kids from accidents, no matter HOW stressed it makes them.

No, the curse like a sailor INSIDE their head. Like an ADULT.

Just? Imagine~☆

The slow transition from *starry eyed shoujo sparkles* "This is SO COOL~!" to "huh, that's... kinda weird. And Sus. Weird Sus. Maybe nothing... oh! A distraction!" To "okay, this KEEPS happening, that was shady. You all saw that right? You realize that's not NORMAL, right? That that's fucked up? Not cool?" To "oh god, oh God, OH GOD! I'm in HELL! This is actually HELL! I'm trapped in HELL!!! WHAT THE FUC-"

Like? This kid LOVES space. LOVES the stars. And this is one of the few Superhero Cannon that SPECIFICALLY MENTIONS that IN CANNON? Thanks to Quirks? As in Superpowers? That VERY THING got fuckin SCRAPPED. Gutted. Consigned to be a relic of the past so they could all focus on punching each other Real Good.

He would weep BLOOD. Chew the WALLS. The LEVEL of unhinged this child would unleash? Not as Danny Phantom... but as DANNY J. FENTON? Beautiful. Vaguely psychotic. Definitely doing the Fenton Name proud. God, the NOISE HE WOULD MAKE would be inhuman and yet somehow? Come entirely from his human half.

They👏 Would👏 Hear👏 BOSS👏 MUSIC👏

I don't even know if he'd CARE about the main characters. They'd be tangential at best. The man would be in a one man war with I-Island over their lack of space program and hoarding of scientific progress. Probably living out of an abandoned building or forgotten subway station. Just? The MOST bedraggled, feral genius to ever haunt Japan.

As opposed to the REFINED feral genius. Who is Nedzu.

I bet Danny stands outside his school at one AM waving his scientific papers at a camera and YELLS. Like a deranged lunatic. Mismatched slippers and a "haven't slept in a week" crazed glint in his eyes.

He's Nedzu's new best friend. They GET each other.

And, yes, Nedzu COULD let him in... but it's faster to just let him yell and read the papers through the camera. Who CARES if they both seem insane! Let's shout about advanced physics and engineering at 1 am! Over the speakers!!! Oh? You need to physically SHOW me the notes? Well I COULD unlock the gates... OR just wait for you to finish scrambling up the walls like a feral Racoon, to then throw yourself OVER them.

Either, Or.

I'm just SAYING! We are SLEEPING on this! There is so, SO much fun to be had! Danny breaks rules and minds! His outrage over injustice and the complete lack of SPACE! His protection instincts going BUCK FUCKIN WILD. The INDESCRIBABLE hate boner he would have for Mr. "Lemme just rip parts of your soul out so I can collect your powers like pokemon cards" AfO.

There? Is SO MUCH, guys. SO MUCH!

@hdgnj @the-witchhunter @babbling-babull @hypewinter @nerdpoe @lolottes @dcxdpdabbles @mutable-manifestation

[slutoru1207]

Varient!Invincible x reader part 2

Your breath hitched. Three Marks. Three.

Each of them stared at you like they had been starving for something only you could give them. Like they had found the last piece of a puzzle they never thought they'd complete.

"You don't need him anymore," Scarred Mark—the one with the golden eyes—murmured, stepping closer. His voice was almost soft, as if he were coaxing you. "He's weak. He let you die. Over and over again."

Your heartbeat pounded in your ears.

"This isn't right," you whispered. "You're not my Mark."

Mohawk Mark—lean, sharp-eyed, his expression like stone—let out a dry, bitter laugh. "Yeah? And what has your Mark done for you?" His lip curled. "Let me guess—he keeps losing. Keeps failing you. Keeps breaking every promise he makes."

You clenched your fists. “That’s not true.”

“Oh, sweetheart,” Sinister Mark chuckled darkly. “It is.”

And then—

BOOM.

The entire street cracked apart. A blur of blue and yellow slammed into the pavement, sending concrete and dust flying everywhere. The force knocked you backward, and you shielded your face—

But before you could even process what had happened��Arms wrapped around you. Familiar. Safe.

"Get away from her!"

Your Mark's voice.

Your Mark’s arms.

Your Mark.

His grip was tight, solid, his chest rising and falling fast. He held you against him, his body shielding yours as the dust settled. You could feel the tension coiled beneath his skin, the way his heart hammered just as hard as yours.

And when he pulled back just enough for you to see his face—

His eyes burned.

"You okay?" he asked, voice low, controlled—but barely. Like he was forcing himself to hold it together.

You nodded quickly. "Mark, I—"

"Well, well," Sinister Mark drawled, cracking his neck as he stepped forward. "Look who finally showed up."

Mohawk Mark grinned. "Took you long enough."

Mark’s arms tightened around you. He didn’t let go, even as his breathing deepened, even as his rage built.

“What the hell is this?” he gritted out.

Scarred Mark—Viltrumite Mark—smirked. “This?” He gestured at himself, at the others. “This is what happens when you fail, Mark.”

“Every version of you,” Sinister Mark murmured. “And we all lost her.”

Mark’s grip on you trembled.

Your throat tightened. Oh god.

“But now,” Mohawk Mark continued, tilting his head. “We found one that actually lived.”

Sinister Mark’s golden eyes gleamed. “And we’re not gonna let that go to waste.”

A beat of silence.

And then—

BOOM.

Mark moved first.

One second, he was holding you—the next, he launched himself at Sinister Mark with enough force to crack the air.

The fight exploded.

Sinister Mark dodged the first hit but barely blocked the second, his feet skidding against the concrete.

Mark didn’t stop. He went for Mohawk Mark next, fists flying, rage blazing through him like a wildfire.

Viltrumite Mark caught him mid-swing—their arms locked, muscles straining, teeth bared.

“You don’t deserve her!” Mark snarled, breaking free and landing a punch that shattered the pavement beneath them.

Sinister Mark grinned, blood dripping from his lip. “Now this is fun.”

Mohawk Mark wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. “I gotta admit,” he muttered, rolling his shoulders. “I was hoping he’d put up a fight.”

Viltrumite Mark barely flinched, his golden eyes locked onto yours.

And that’s when you realized—

They weren’t fighting to kill.

They were fighting to take you.

To win you.

Your stomach dropped.

This wasn’t a battle.

It was a claim.

part 3

[arcadia-of-pluto]

Casually calling them "daddy" LADS

Word count; 1,913

Themes; slightly barely there suggestive content, fluff, established relationship

Warnings; mention of "daddy" ofc, fluff

Notes; So these turned out more fluffy than I originally intended...honestly, thought they'd be more smutty, but I've learnt that it's really difficult for me to write smut. Or at least, smut with little to no context before it all goes down. I might eventually write some smuttier drabbles, but regardless of smut, I hope you enjoy this little thing I wrote!

You saw that there was an old trend about calling your boyfriend “daddy” and videoing their reaction so, obviously, you wanted to give it a try…

Xavier 

It's been almost a year since you and Xavier started dating– and it was a wonderful eleven months! He told you everything about himself. What his future with you was like, all of his feelings throughout the centuries, and you listened. You wholeheartedly believed him, because it would be one hell of a lie if it wasn't true…and you didn't think Xavier had the time or energy to come up with a complex lie like that. 

But even if you now know, time moves on. There's not much you can do about your future self, so you can't really change the future in that way though…Xavier's here now, in the past, and that's all that matters to you. 

Anyway, today was just a normal day as any. 

You were sitting at the counter, keeping a close eye on Xavier– who was attempting to follow, yet another, cooking tutorial. The man was desperate to cook a decent meal for you. His heart dead set on making you something edible for your upcoming year anniversary…and while that was cute, you also wanted to mess with him. 

You push your cup just out of your reach and make a big show of trying to reach for it, before sighing loudly. 

“Daddy, can you pass me my drink please?” 

You can hear the clang of a spatula hitting the floor and you watch Xavier’s body comically whip around to face you. 

“What?” His head cocks to the side as his wide eyes were set on your face. “Say that again..”

“Hmm? I said ‘Xav, can you pass me my drink, please’.” You copy his head tilt and he quickly shakes his head.

 “No, no you didn't.” He takes a few steps toward you before grabbing your hand in-between both of his. “Say it again.” 

You couldn't resist his sweet puppy dog eyes, so you hold back a smile as you meet his eyes. “I...called you daddy.” 

“Really?” He seems unusually excited. “So are we…?” His gaze lowers to your stomach and you can’t help the giggle that slips from your lips. 

Gosh, he was so cute. 

“Baby– no, no. We're not pregnant.” You run your fingers through his hair with a smile on your lips. “Are...you disappointed?” 

“Mmh..” Xavier hums thoughtfully for a moment before he shakes his head. “No. We can just make it a reality later. No need to rush.” 

Zayne 

You and Zayne have only been dating for six months, but it felt like much longer. Having known each other since you were little, you both had always been close– well, your definition of close and his were probably different. You always thought of him as a friend while he tried to keep a distance and thought you hated him. But time brought you both back together with him as your primary care physician. 

The two of you had been flirting up until his birthday and finally made it official once he blew his candles out on the cake you made for him. It was a sweet time, but that was six months ago. 

Now, though, you really want to fluster the man. 

He always embarrasses you and makes you feel nervous, but you never get to see him that way. Sure, his ears will turn red and sometimes he won't meet your eyes when you get too intense with him, but you've never seen him absolutely shocked. And you just wanted to see one look of surprise from him. 

So, what did you decide to do? 

You decided to casually call him "daddy” as a joke.

That should definitely go over well. 

Zayne is seated behind his desk at the hospital, sorting through papers as you longue on his sofa. Your eyes continuously glancing toward the windows to make sure the door was shut and the blinds were closed. 

“If you keep staring at the door, you just might burn a hole through it.” Zayne says, though he didn't even look up from his paperwork. He was attentive like that and probably already knew you wanted something or you were ready to go home. And he was right. 

“When are we going home…daddy?” You ask as you kick your feet in the air behind you. You were on your stomach, resting your cheek against your arms as you watched his expression…which didn't change at all. 

"Just give me a few more minutes, angel, and I'll be done.” Zayne pushes his glasses up with his index finger and clicks his pen, jotting down a few notes. 

“I–” You puff your cheeks out with a small sigh and decide to keep going with it. “I want to go home now, daddy.”

“Didn't I just tell you to be patient?” Now Zayne finally looks up at you with one of his brows raised. “I'll deal with you when we get home.” 

Rafayel 

It's been four months since Rafayel asked you out. Four months since you tugged Rafayel down into the bath with you, which set off a chain reaction of a steamy night, followed by him asking you out the next morning; he also complained that you both went out of order, but he wasn’t too upset when you continued where you left off…

Now, though, you moved out of your apartment and to Rafayel's home, ‘Mo Art Studio’ at Whitesand Bay. 

It was definitely odd at first, but it was a good change of pace. Always being by the ocean, able to take your morning walks together on the beach and collect seashells. You had a whole collection on your desk at work. He'd always give you the most unique and prettiest shells, saying “only the best for his cutie”. 

He was also so easy to fluster. 

You immediately knew you had him wrapped around your finger every time his ears would turn red. That same crimson slowly made its way from his ears to his cheeks, all the way to his whole face. So you assumed your little ‘prank’ would also have the same effect. 

You were sitting on a beach towel in the sand with an umbrella blocking your eyes from the bright sun. In front of you was Rafayel, painting your visage, with an easel. His hand deftly moves across the canvas as he sketches the outline for his new painting. 

Lately, you are the only thing he can paint. Always asking you to stop what you're doing so he can run and get his sketch pad. You could be doing something so normal and mundane, but he'd be struck with the inspiration to record your very image. 

As much as you loved it and thought this was very sweet, after almost two weeks of this…You wanted some form of payback. 

“Hey, daddy, can we take a break for a second? It’s really hot out here.” You squint your eyes to try and see Rafayel's face, your hand fanning at your body because you, seriously, are hot out here. 

“Huh?” 

It's like Rafayel is frozen in time, or buffering. He's just blankly staring at you with a confused expression on his face until his pencil drops into the sand. That's when he quickly stands up  and makes his way toward you. 

“Again.” 

Now, it's your turn to be confused. 

“Raf, what–” 

“Not that, say the other word again.” His ears were red as he crouched down in front of you, a look of determination in his eyes. 

“No– you're making it weird!” You put your hands on his shoulders, trying to put some distance between him as your face turns red. 

“Please, I really need to hear you say it again! I'm seriously going to die if you don't.” There's your overdramatic fishy. 

“Fine, but just this once.” You grumble, turning your head to look away from him. “Daddy…” Though you say it as low as you can and Rafayel groans, tilting his head back. 

“Louder.” He rests his forehead against yours. “Come on, cutie. If you don't…I might want to change that to my new nickname.”

Sylus

It's been about…a year? Yes, definitely a year since you and Sylus started dating. Well, you both have differing opinions on when exactly you started dating. Sylus claims it was the moment he laid eyes on you in the N109 Zone, while you claim it was only about six months ago– which is when you and Sylus made a bet. 

It was a bet where if he came back safely from his mission, he'd leave you alone. He wouldn't bother you anymore, wouldn't talk to you, contact you, anything of the sort…and you won, but you didn't realize he'd actually do it. So whenever you seeked him out to make sure he was safe, and he ignored you, you realized that maybe you did want him in your life. 

This led to you running across the street to him and jumping into his arms like this was a hallmark movie, and you claim this was when you officially started dating Sylus.

But between us, you just agree with Sylus when he says a year, because if you don't, he'll pout for the whole day. 

...And today was one of those ‘pouty Sylus’ days. 

You went on a mission that was probably way too dangerous, even though you told Sylus you were going to slow down on your Hunter's work. But you couldn't just ignore endangered civilians. If any of them would have died, that would've been too much for your sympathetic heart to handle. 

And even if Sylus understands your reasoning, he's still upset that you left without telling him– having woken up to a cold bed without you by his side sent him spiraling into a panic. 

So, when you got home, you noticed he was sulking in the kitchen as he made dinner. 

���Sy…” You take your shoes off by the door, nervously fiddling with your fingers as you tentatively walk into the kitchen. Standing behind the counter, you sigh, “I'm reeaally sorry...” 

“If you're reeaaally sorry, then help me make our dinner.” He says, not looking up at you and that doesn't make you feel any better. 

“Okay..” You finally step past the counter and you look around. “So…what do you need?” You were trying to figure out something– anything that could make Sylus feel better when a thought comes to your mind. 

Most guys probably like it when their girlfriend calls them daddy…right? 

“In the cabinet, top shelf. I need a bottle of garlic powder.” 

Okay, you got this. 

You take a deep breath and open the cabinet, straining your arm to try and reach the seasoning bottle, but your fingertips barely brush it and knock it over. “Shit…” You swallow back your nervousness before continuing, “Daddy, can you grab it for me?” 

The room fills with silence for a moment, but then you hear Sylus chuckle. 

“Sure, kitten.” 

Your back suddenly feels warm as a firm chest presses against it and Sylus reaches up from behind you to grab the bottle. 

“I ask you to do one simple thing and you can't even do that.” Sylus chides, clicking his tongue as he pops the bottle open to pour some into the pan on the stove. 

“Da–”

“If you think a few empty words will make me feel better, kitten…you've got to try a lot harder than that.” 

I'd like to say, this is definitely one of my better drabbles– one of my favorites, in fact!

I have like...six more ideas for drabbles and then I'll need to come up with some more. Like these new cards and Rafayel's student photoshoot event really had me thinking of how seriously the LADS men would take roleplaying– and that spawned a whole different drabble idea, so you can definitely look forward to that!

I'm trying to come up with new ways to do my drabbles, so that's why I did a little prelude before I started writing for the guys. Please let me know any feedback yall have for me! Especially with the coloured dialogue, I'm not too sure if I like it, but it seems really pretty and probably makes it easier to tell who is talking apart. (I won't use it for my fic though, only the drabbles!)

Anyway, I have a small personal project I'm working on this weekend so I probably won't be able to write any chapters for my 'Divisa' fic, but I'm still going to post chapter nineteen of 'Twist of Fate' and try to write at least two more chapters since I'm only on twenty-three or so.

I hope you all enjoyed these drabbles and I hope yall have a great night/day! 🩷

[foldingfittedsheets]

Hands down one of my worst experiences in high school was when the seniors decided to extort the entire school by using tactics that were banned by the UN to get them to pay for the senior party! If that sounds like a wild sentiment stay tuned because this shit got crazy.

I was living in Arizona at the time and I was a freshman. Our campus was largely open air, with walks between class room buildings and some covered outdoor tables. Our event began with a morning announcement. The seniors were collecting donations for the senior party, and when they reached their goal, their fundraising method would stop.

Their fundraising method:

To pipe the entire schools speakers with "If You're Happy and You Know It" on loop. To this day, I cannot hear this song without experiencing a degree of rage and madness that is frankly alarming. One of the worst parts of the entire thing was that the recording they chose had the female singer do a little clap and say "Yay-ha-hey," at the end. So it wasn't just the song, it was this awful little cooldown stinger at the end.

If this sounds a lot like psychological torture you'd be extremely correct! This practice has been banned in some countries, but the good old US hasn't ruled it a human rights violation, and what a fun silly way to raise money, that definitely wasn't damaging to adolescent psyches!

Every morning for 15 minutes before school began, every passing period, every lunch, and after school for another 15 minutes they blasted that fucking song on unceasing repeat through every speaker in the school. Everyone found different ways of coping with this and mine was to observe my classmates descent into madness and categorize the stages.

The first stage was almost completely consistent, and it was a smug almost exasperated eye rolling phase. Often accompanied by derisive comments about the song or the tactic, this phase was extremely mildly annoyed. Most people figured it would blow over soon, and no one anticipated this continuing for a week and a half, creating a miasma of fraught tension.

The second phase was elevated annoyance, starting to snap and be less amused characterized this level of irritation. People would try to cover their ears or put on headphones, humming aggressively to block out the syrupy repulsive children's performer with her loathsome little clap. This phase had people picking their absolute least favorite part of the song. Her inflection on certain words, her timing between verses. I think it's pretty clear already which part I hated most.

The next phase was a bounce back out to absurdity. It became funny how annoying it was and people would sing along as if to challenge the song's authority over their psyche. This paired exceptionally poorly with people in phase two as they'd often lash out at the people giving more voice to their hell.

The fourth phase was a dead-eyed madness. People would stare straight ahead and their lips would silently mouth the familiar words. The song had pounded its way into their very soul and was inextricably linked to auditory output. They often didn't even realize if they began chanting along.

The fifth and final phase was pure uncut pubescent rage. Kids would scream, attack each other, and in a truly epic end to the event hurl a cafeteria chair with such force at the speaker in the cafeteria to irreparably damage the sound system.

The seniors got funding for a party, but some of it had to go to repair the damages, which were substantial.

[chososbabymama]

Boyfriend!Sukuna who has a habit of saying ‘no’ when you ask him to do something as he immediately gets up to do what you asked.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who buys your pitbull a thick gold chain, ‘so the other dogs at the park take her seriously.’

Boyfriend!Sukuna who SWORE he wasn’t interested in your silly little tv shows but sits with you every Sunday to watch South Central Baddies.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who has a habit of chewing on things (bottle caps, pen caps, straws, etc.) so you buy him flavored toothpicks after he chewed the bottom of your favorite pen.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who bought you a huge bouquet of flowers because he knew you’d been feeling depressed the past couple of weeks and he missed seeing you smile.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who openly expresses his love for the way you handle Yuji, treating his nephew more like a son (Yuji definitely calls his uncle ‘dad’, and it makes both of you beam with joy each time).

Boyfriend!Sukuna who took great pleasure in being able to provide for you, taking you on trips, paying for your hair, treating you to dinner. In his mind, it was his way of saying thank you for taking care of him and being there . Always making sure Yuji was taken care of, doing the grocery shopping, not to mention you doing your own work for graduate school, Ryomen Sukuna would be a fool to not show you how much he valued you and your efforts.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who doesn't care to impress your folks. He knew he was a brash man, a little rough around the edges, that he wasn't the type of person your parents imagined you'd end up with. It'd taken 4 shots of Tito's and winning gin rummy against your father for them to start opening up to him (your favorite part of that night was when they'd decided to do a duet and sing I Like It by DeBarge)

Boyfriend!Sukuna who remembers your first date, how nervous he was sitting across from you that night. The poor man had spilled his glass of water all over himself because he was so nervous (he’ll deny it was nerves and claim the waiter bumped the table), accidentally stepped on your toes under the table (several times), and even caught part of his jacket sleeve on fire from reaching over the tables candle. What broke him was when he tried buying you flowers on the way home to try and make up for it, you BOTH were horrified to see hives suddenly break out on your skin and find out through a late night ER trip that your were allergic to that specific flower. Sukuna wont admit this either but he cried like a baby in your hospital room and again when you talked later and said you still wanted to go on a 2nd date with him (appalling luck aside, the date went extremely well).

Boyfriend!Sukuna who likes to bite you. He’ll be lying on your stomach while you use his back to read your book, when you first feel him start to suck on your tummy you don’t think much of it. As soon as you feel teeth you move your hands and look down to see your boyfriend with your tummy LITERALLY in his mouth, wide red eyes boring into yours as if you weren't essentially being used as a chew toy.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who'd gotten your name tattooed around his ring finger after your 7th date.

Boyfriend!Sukuna who was more excited than you when building your first pillow fort, arranging several pillows and blankets around you both to make a nest of sorts (he wasn't at all amused when you'd asked him if his omegas heat instincts were kickin in)

Boyfriend!Sukuna who feels the square velvet box burn a hole in his pocket. His fingers drum against the table anxiously as he watches you play with Yuji, wondering if you wanted the same things he did. But suddenly, you and his nephew turn in his direction. You’d taken one of Yuji’s hands and waved it his way, both of you having wide smiles on your faces as you giggle and tell the young boy to, “say hi to big grumpy!” At that moment Sukuna knew there was no way in hell he'd let another day go by without putting a ring on your finger.

Husband!Sukuna who watches you and Yuji make a house for the gingerbread family in the kitchen. He watched with adoring eyes as the boy in your arms picks up 3 gingerbreads, all decorated differently. With a wide, toothy grin Yuji proudly shows them to the tall man; declaring that, "dad! dad! guess what? it looks just like us! Do you like it?" The pink frosting smudging both of your cheeks, hair being held back by silly cartoon headbands, the fondness Sukuna felt for the both of you. He made his way to the kitchen island, wrapping an arm around your waist and the other to ruffle his boys hair before pressing a kiss to the crown. Nodding and gazing at you both with adoration, he coos out a sweet "Yeah little guy, I fuckin love it."

[alchemistc]

kiss me on the mouth, love me like a sailor

"Can we talk?"

He feels like every fucking part of his body is on fire. Like if he takes a deep breath and blows it out his bones will shake themselves loose and disintegrate, leave him a pile of skin and muscle oozing on the porch and just over the threshold where he currently has an arm banded across the frame. His elbow digs in and he wonders if the last thing he'll ever do is leave a Tommy sized imprint when the lightning strike turns him to ash on the doorstep.

Evan takes a deep breath.

Waves him in.

This is nothing like the last time he was here.

He's not sure what he'd expected before - for sex to fix things, for them to go back to the flirty innocence of fresh-blush romance even though six months is long enough to start nailing down what the hell you want out of a relationship. He's loved before. Lost, before, plenty of times. Sometimes his own fault, sometimes theirs.

Tommy has a bad habit of playing fast and loose with the people he orbits, a satellite that flies too close and then gets flung away for the trouble. Flinging himself away, usually. And what a hell of a job he's done at it.

"Uh, what - what are you doing here?" Evan asks, and Tommy shoots him a wry smile. Shakes his head, because there's a quip on the tip of his tongue that could completely derail his entire purpose in showing up here.

The purpose being to crack open his chest and see if Evan's interested in pressing his fingers to the steady, if currently overworked beat of his heart.

"Saw you on the news," he tells Evan, and takes a deep breath. He's unpacked, decorated. It's weird to see this place in the daylight, laid out with furniture, pictures on the walls, soft touches of decorative charm making themselves known. Lighter than Eddie's touch, more whimsical. Gayer, his brain supplies, and he shuts down the stereotype in his own mind and tries not to judge himself too harshly for it. "I wanted to..." He'd practiced this shit. In a mirror, harsh overhead light showing him all his flaws, trying desperately to figure out how to avoid that crook in his jaw, the pained dimple, before remembering that the whole point was to lay himself bare and let the chips fall where they may.

"I... I was gonna call," Evan says, and Tommy's eyes shift up to him from their perusal of the filmy curtains.

"Why didn't you?"

It's Evan's turn to purse his lips, and he's never been as good at hiding shit as Tommy, or maybe he's just never bothered to try. Hiding isn't his default setting.

"I don't know," he says, and he does this thing - this adorable, frustrating thing - shoulder tipped inwards, neck bent and bright eyes looking up through his lashes, and Tommy wants. Wants this all to be done, and over with, wants to just know whether or not this is going to mean anything in five minutes, an hour, a day. The last time he'd pictured a life with someone he'd been so far underground that radar wouldn't have recovered him. Six months is barely anything to go on, he'd had years with Abby before he'd even asked and -

He reminds himself this isn't all or nothing. He just has to - to talk about it, and not make any stupid fucking jokes or deflect how he's actually feeling. Lay it all out there and brace for impact.

He wishes he was drunk. Drunk drivers make it work - loose limbed and malleable, nine times out of ten they walk away from deadly accidents, and maybe with looser lips he wouldn't have to brace as much.

"I just... Didn't."

Which is fair. Tommy'd implied essentially the same thing the last time they'd managed five minutes of conversation without trying to maul each other's faces off. Or hurt each other in new and horrible ways.

That part was always easier. God, they'd fallen into bed so often and in so many fun new ways that Tommy had spent the first month with a semi any time he even thought about Evan. Even that first time there hadn't been a hesitant bone in his body.

But the other parts - they'd been sweet, with each other. Half a dozen inside jokes before Tommy took him on an actual third date, a constant stream of texts that Tommy had participated in just as readily as Evan. He was a brat, unruly and half-insane and Tommy had eaten it up, played into it, encouraged just as much as he tried to temper it. And it'd been nice, to have someone who let him take care of them.

Those parts had been good too. Evan, who always knew when not to push, Evan who grinned up at him around a mouthful of cock, Evan who was greedy with Tommy's time and didn't apologize for it.

"How are you?" Tommy asks, after a beat too long, because he'd heard enough to know that Evan had been without the rest of his team through that whole ordeal and he knows, he knows how much that has to have fucked with his head.

"Is that why you're here? You wanna know how I'm doing?"

"I always want to know that," Tommy admits, and swallows around the panic of honesty. "Not why I'm here, though. Not really."

Evan's eyes narrow. "Do you have a shift, later?" The tone is all brat, pointed, maybe a little annoyed. Not veering into pissed, yet, but maybe they'll get there.

Tommy breathes, and it hitches in his chest. Fuck. Jesus. He can do this. "No," he admits, and Evan nods. Points to the couch.

"Sit. I'm - I want a beer, do you...?" The vague gesture towards his kitchen is the end of that question.

"Just the one."

Evan disappears around a corner. Tommy's not a lightweight, by any means, but he is the kind of person who follows all the outdated recommendations regarding drinking and driving - a single beer leaves him stuck here for a good forty-five minutes.

Shit.

Fuck.

Evan knows this about him. Has teased him about it a few times, laughing because he'd only ever served people in resorts and they'd always been a little more lax about what constituted an over-serve, but he'd still memorized the card that gave BMI + time allowed for a given amount of alcohol.

At least they're both aware this is gonna be a rough conversation.

He hopes it'll be a good one, eventually.

Evan startles him by leaping the couch and nearly crash-landing into Tommy's side, two bottles clutched between beefy fingers that clink against each other as Evan readjusts. Close. Closer than Tommy had expected when there's a perfectly good chair right there.

The starter boyfriend thing had always come with Evan's knowledge that he could be a little less careful, do a little more roughhousing than he was likely used to from a partner. Tommy had leaned into it because most of the men in his orbit trended smaller, slighter, and it'd been a novelty to get shoved around just the way he liked by someone who could possibly overpower him, if it came down to it.

That night, Evan had been desperate, needy, and not afraid to use his body to get exactly what he wanted.

And Tommy had let him, like always, without ever telling him why.

When Evan hands him one of the bottles he shifts his weight just enough to wedge his knee into the side of Tommy's thigh, persistent pressure and an unnerving amount of eye contact and a curious tilt to his head.

Tommy isn't fucking ready.

"So. Talk," Evan says, and tips the bottle against his lips, neck stretching, eyes careful, his body language so at odds with the clipped tone of his voice that Tommy immediately has to fight the urge to bolt.

His thigh twitches under Evan's knee and Evan looks at Tommy like he knows exactly what's on his mind.

Tommy swallows back a mouthful of spit, takes a swig.

And he starts talking.

[missmaymay13]

home is with you - j.hughes

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

j.hughes x fem!oc | 13k

summary: jack was a patient person, and he was willing to wait as long as everlyn briar needed to realize that he was there for her.

masterlist

⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻⸻

Quinn Hughes knew a lot about hockey.

Ask him about any game in the last decade—NHL or juniors—and he could give you a detailed play-by-play, rattle off stats like they were embedded in his DNA, and even tell you the name of the ref who made that terrible call in the second period. Hockey ran through his blood. It was his language, his rhythm, his safe place.

Academics, though? That was a different story.

It wasn't that he wasn't smart. He was just... uninterested. Unmotivated. The kind of kid who could get through most classes on charm and bare-minimum effort, skating by (pun intended) with a shrug and a smile. But junior year hit different. The coursework was harder, his travel schedule was crazier, and even Ellen—his endlessly patient, fiercely supportive mom—was starting to worry.

So she did what any mom would do: she found him help. Enter Everlyn Briar.

She was a sophomore, which at first felt weird to Quinn. A younger student tutoring him? But it took less than five minutes into their first session for him to realize Everlyn wasn't just smart—she was brilliant. The kind of person who didn't just know the answers, but understood them. Who explained things like it was no big deal, casually dropping SAT vocab like it was regular slang. She was taking AP classes in everything and somehow managing to be the captain of the school's volleyball team.

And not just on the volleyball team—she ran it. Confident, poised, competitive as hell.

Quinn didn't know people like her existed in real life.

He also didn't expect to like her.

At first, he resented the whole tutoring setup. It made him feel dumb, and if there was one thing Quinn Hughes hated, it was feeling dumb. But Everlyn had this way of making you feel like you were capable. Like you could be just as smart as her if you tried. She had an addicting personality—effortlessly cool, quick-witted, with a sense of humor that caught him off guard more than once.

And then there was her smile.

God, that smile. Bright and full of mischief, like she was constantly in on a secret she might let you in on if you were lucky enough. It was the kind of smile you couldn't forget, even if you tried.

Their tutoring sessions slowly evolved into something else. Something casual, something natural. They'd meet in the library or the back corner of the local coffee shop, but more often than not, their study sessions would end with them laughing over inside jokes, sharing stories about their teammates, or mock-roasting each other over their wildly different Spotify playlists.

Within a few months, they were inseparable.

It wasn't long before their social circles started to blur. Everlyn met Quinn's friends from the team, and he got introduced to her volleyball crew. Weekend hangouts became group events—bonfires, house parties, late-night diner runs. It was all fun and games until people started dating each other and everything got predictably messy.

Typical high school chaos.

There were breakups that forced the group to awkwardly take sides, dramatic friend group rifts, and one infamous party where someone tried to stage an "intervention" for a relationship that wasn't even official. Through it all, though, Quinn and Everlyn stayed solid. He'd show up to her games, she'd come to his. They were always seen together—heads tilted close in conversation, sharing drinks, stealing fries off each other's plates without asking.

Years would pass before either of them realized just how much those years mattered—how foundational they were. Before either of them would understand that what they built back then, in classrooms and crowded kitchens and half-lit basements, was going to follow them far beyond high school.

Because this isn't just Quinn's story.

It's Jack's too.

And for Jack Hughes, Everlyn Briar wasn't just some girl his brother used to hang out with.

She was the girl.

The one he was never supposed to fall for.

⸻ It started small.

At first, Everlyn would stay a few minutes after her tutoring sessions—just long enough to chat with Quinn before he got dragged off to practice or dinner. Then she'd linger a little longer, helping him pack up his notes, maybe sneaking in a few teasing jabs about his handwriting or his inability to remember historical dates. Eventually, Quinn started inviting her over for actual study sessions at his house.

And then, like it was the most natural thing in the world, Everlyn Briar became a regular fixture at the Hughes household.

It was Ellen's idea, really. She was over the moon about Quinn's sudden improvement in school—how he seemed lighter, less tense. His grades had gone up, but more importantly, so had his confidence. And she noticed it wasn't just the academics. Her son was happier. There was a spark in him again.

So of course, Ellen wanted to meet the girl responsible for that.

That first invitation came wrapped in the form of a casual offer: "Why don't you just stay for supper, sweetheart?" And Everlyn, who had only meant to drop off a study guide, hesitated just long enough for Ellen to smile and wave her into the kitchen like she'd already been part of the family for years.

It was so simple. So easy. So warm.

Everlyn didn't realize how much she needed that warmth until she felt it.

The Hughes house was nestled at the top of a long driveway, the kind of home that looked like it had history—scuffed baseboards, picture frames lining the hall, cleats piled by the door. It smelled like home-cooked meals and dryer sheets, and the moment she stepped inside, she could feel something shift in her chest.

There was life here. Real life.

Trophies filled the shelves—some polished and gleaming, others dusty with age. Framed photos covered the walls, capturing every phase of childhood: first goals, missing teeth, family vacations. Hockey sticks leaned against corners. A dog barked from the backyard. Laughter echoed from upstairs.

It was messy in the way that made your chest ache with comfort.

She could've cried.

Because back at her own house, it wasn't like this. Not anymore. The silence there was deafening, broken only by the sound of raised voices behind closed doors or the slam of a front door that never quite shut all the way. Her parents were in the middle of what could only be described as a war disguised as a divorce—ugly, drawn-out, venomous. And lately, Everlyn had become the easiest target.

It wasn't physical. Not exactly. But the emotional toll? That was harder to explain.

The tension followed her like smoke. Her mom was sharp with her words, her dad cold with his distance. The house was split in invisible lines—rooms she couldn't go into without a fight, conversations that ended in tears, meals that were eaten in silence. And she, caught in the middle, found herself suffocating more and more with each passing day.

So she escaped. Any chance she got.

Practice. Study halls. Library sessions that lasted until closing. Couch cushions at friends' houses. Empty locker rooms. Anywhere but home.

Which made the Hughes' house feel like a gift from the universe. An oasis.

The first person to greet her that day—besides Quinn—was a thirteen-year-old Luke Hughes, peeking cautiously from behind his older brother's shoulder. He had that awkward middle-school lankiness, all limbs and big eyes, his dark hair a little messy like he'd been running around all day. Shy but clearly curious, he gave her a wary glance, unsure of what to make of the girl standing at his front door with a backpack and a too-kind smile.

"Hey," Everlyn said softly, crouching down just a little to his height. "You must be the famous Luke. I've heard you've got a killer slapshot."

Luke blinked, then gave the tiniest, bashful nod—cheeks already a bit pink. And just like that, she'd won him over.

From then on, he was her shadow anytime she visited. Offering her cookies, showing off his hockey cards, even once letting her watch him play NHL on the Xbox. Luke Hughes was a soft, sweet soul—and he, like the rest of the family, made space for Everlyn without asking for anything in return.

Next came Ellen and Jim.

They met her with hugs, no hesitation, like she was already part of something. Ellen's warmth was maternal and immediate—offering her water, asking if she was hungry, complimenting her necklace. Jim's was quieter but genuine, his handshake firm, his smile kind. And both of them went on and on about how grateful they were to her for helping Quinn—not just with school, but with his peace of mind.

"You've brought such a light to him," Ellen had said, eyes crinkling. "I don't know what we'd do without you."

Everlyn had smiled and said thank you, but the words clung to her like armor. A light. She didn't feel like a light lately. Not with everything going on at home. But maybe, just maybe, here... she could be.

She was still soaking it all in—memorizing the faces in the photos on the walls, the way the floor creaked in certain spots, the steady hum of a home that felt alive—when the front door opened again.

And in walked Jack Hughes.

He was fifteen then. Already taller than most of the guys at school, with dark, boyish hair that curled a little at the ends and those unmistakable Hughes eyes—sharp, expressive, like they could see straight through you if he wanted to. His backpack was slung lazily over one shoulder, cheeks a bit flushed from biking home, and there was a faint scowl on his face until he rounded the corner and saw her.

Everlyn.

His brother's friend.

The one he wasn't expecting to look like that.

Jack froze for half a second, and it was only noticeable if you were really paying attention. His mouth opened just slightly, like he was about to say something and forgot the words. His eyes did a quick sweep—face, hair, eyes, outfit. And then he recovered, tossing on that signature smirk he wore like a badge.

"Hey," he said coolly. "You must be Everlyn."

She looked up from the couch, smile blooming. "And you must be Jack. I've heard a lot about you."

"Only the good stuff, I hope."

"That depends on your definition of 'good.'"

Quinn snorted from the kitchen, and Jack rolled his eyes. But his gaze didn't leave her. Something about her pulled at him—a softness behind her confidence, something that made his usual smoothness falter just a little.

And when she smiled at him—really smiled, all teeth and light—Jack Hughes, the confident, cocky middle brother, felt his heartbeat do something stupid.

Like skip.

He'd seen her before, sure. In the hallways at school. At volleyball games he'd gone to half-heartedly with Quinn, back when she was just a name he'd heard in passing. But seeing her now, in his home, on his couch, laughing with his brothers?

She wasn't just a name anymore.

And he didn't know it yet—but this girl, this friend of his brother's with the soft voice and the sharp mind, was about to change everything.

⸻

It was subtle at first.

A lingering glance here. A too-long laugh there. The way Jack's eyes would flick toward her in a crowded room, like his brain was hardwired to track her presence no matter what else was happening.

Jack Hughes had a crush.

A real one. The kind that made your chest tighten and your thoughts trip over themselves. But this wasn't just any girl. This was Everlyn Briar. The girl who tutored his older brother. The girl who had somehow woven herself into the fabric of the Hughes home like she'd always belonged there. The girl who showed up with a smile and stayed with a purpose.

And Jack—who usually had no trouble flirting, who could talk circles around most girls his age—suddenly found himself stammering or going completely silent anytime she looked at him for too long.

He hated it.

Well, no. He didn't hate her. God, no. He hated the situation.

Because she was Quinn's friend. His tutor. His person. And there were unspoken rules about that kind of thing—lines that brothers just didn't cross. So Jack kept it cool. He played the role of younger brother, occasional background comic relief, the charming but harmless kid who just so happened to stare a little too long when she wasn't looking.

But all of that restraint unraveled a little the night Quinn decided to throw a party.

Their parents were out of town for the weekend—a rare escape for Ellen and Jim to have a weekend to themselves—and Quinn, being a senior with a newly found sense of confidence and freedom, took full advantage.

The guest list was mostly hockey friends and volleyball players, a mix of athletes and classmates that made the house feel loud and alive by 9 p.m. Jack got the nod to invite some of his own people too, a gesture from Quinn that meant more than it seemed.

Jack wasn't exactly part of the "cool" senior crowd yet, but he could hold his own. And when he found out Everlyn would be there—of course she'd be there—he felt this strange mix of nerves and excitement hum beneath his skin all day.

He played it off well. Showed up in a backwards hat and his best hoodie, dapped up his friends, cracked jokes in the kitchen while snagging handfuls of chips. But all of it—every last bit—was background noise.

Because the second Everlyn walked through the door, it was like gravity shifted.

She was wearing a soft, oversized crewneck and jeans with a rip in the knee, nothing overly flashy or dramatic. Her hair was half up, half down, effortlessly undone, and she wore that familiar look of ease and lightheartedness that made her glow in every room.

Jack could barely breathe.

She looked beautiful. Not in the "done-up for a party" way, but in the "this is just who I am" way. She laughed with her whole body, tossing her head back when one of her friends made a joke, squealing when she missed her last cup in beer pong by a half inch. Every reaction was real—genuine, unfiltered, and full of life.

And Jack?

Jack was down bad.

He nursed a red solo cup and watched her from across the room, his gaze drifting back to her like a reflex. He tried to distract himself—mingled, played a game of flip cup, even tried talking to a girl from his grade who'd clearly been waiting for him to notice her. But none of it landed.

His attention was elsewhere. Always.

And then, at some point in the night—around 1:30 a.m., when the music had dipped into mellow territory and some people had already started crashing on couches—he realized he hadn't seen Everlyn in a while.

Like, a while.

It wasn't like her to just disappear without a word, especially not from a party like this. And something about that silence scratched at the back of his brain.

So Jack set his cup down and started looking.

He did a quick sweep of the main floor—kitchen, basement, backyard. Nothing. He passed by groups of people talking, laughing, someone snoring softly under a blanket on the recliner, but no sign of her. His steps grew quieter as he crept upstairs, the noise from below fading into a dull hum.

And that's when he found her.

The door to Luke's room was cracked slightly, soft light filtering out into the hallway. Jack pushed it open just enough to peek inside—and his heart stilled.

Everlyn was curled up on the far side of Luke's twin bed, one arm tucked beneath her head, the other resting gently across Luke's chest. The youngest Hughes was sound asleep, face relaxed in that vulnerable way only kids have when they're completely safe. A "Fast and the Furious" movie played quietly on the TV, Vin Diesel's voice barely audible over the low rumble of cars on screen.

Jack stood frozen in the doorway.

There she was. Not at the center of the party, not surrounded by friends or attention or lights—but here. With Luke. Tucked into a quiet room, keeping him company, protecting him in the smallest, softest way.

His throat tightened.

Behind him, he heard quiet footsteps and turned to find Quinn standing there, eyes a little glassy from a few drinks but still focused.

"She's been checking on him all night," Quinn said, voice low. "Kept sneaking upstairs just to make sure he was okay. I think he was a little overwhelmed with all the noise, and she didn't want him to feel left out. Ended up tucking him in about half an hour ago, I guess."

Jack didn't say anything at first. He just watched her for a moment longer, taking in the way her brow was slightly furrowed in sleep, how her fingers were still gently curled around the blanket like she didn't even realize she'd nodded off.

"She's got a big heart," Quinn added, clapping Jack softly on the back before heading downstairs again. "We're lucky to have her around."

Yeah, Jack thought, his pulse thudding. He really was.

Because in that moment, standing in the hallway with the light from Luke's room casting a soft glow over Everlyn's sleeping face, Jack Hughes fell just a little deeper into something he couldn't name.

It wasn't just the way she looked tonight. It was the way she was. The way she made herself small to protect others. The way she made herself present when no one else remembered to be.

The way she already cared for his family like it was her own.

And for Jack Hughes, there was nothing more important than family.

So yeah. His crush? It wasn't going anywhere.

Not now.

Not ever.

⸻

If Everlyn Briar had to make a list of the best days of her life, two moments would sit at the very top: Quinn's high school graduation, and the day he got drafted to the NHL.

Both days were drenched in joy, but for different reasons. Graduation felt like the end of a chapter, the beautiful culmination of everything they'd built together—study sessions, long nights, practice runs, pep talks in the hallway, inside jokes exchanged during fire drills. Draft day, though? That felt like the beginning of something. The launch of a dream.

And she was there for all of it.

She still remembered Quinn's graduation day like it was etched in sun. The weather was perfect—clear skies, a breeze just strong enough to ruffle the sea of navy blue gowns lined up in rows on the football field. Ellen was crying before the ceremony even started. Jim pretended not to be emotional, but she caught him wiping at his eyes with his sleeve more than once. Luke was the only one trying to play it cool, muttering about how boring the speeches were while secretly filming every second on his phone.

Everlyn sat with the Hughes family, sandwiched between Ellen and Luke, and beamed like it was her son crossing the stage. Her hands were sore from clapping, her cheeks aching from smiling, but she didn't care. Seeing Quinn walk across that stage, cap tilted slightly, grinning ear to ear as his name was called? That was her best friend. And she couldn't have been more proud.

That night, they went to prom together.

It wasn't romantic—not exactly. It was one of those things they'd decided months in advance, a casual promise made in between chemistry notes and late-night FaceTimes. But when the day came, and Everlyn stepped out of her car in a pastel yellow silk dress that caught the light like liquid sunshine, Jack had nearly dropped the bowl of cereal he was holding.

She was glowing. Absolutely glowing.

Quinn, to his credit, played it cool. He met her at the top of the driveway in a navy suit that matched her dress perfectly, his tie just slightly crooked, which she fixed with a teasing smile and a soft touch. Ellen took so many photos, shouting at them to get "just one more!" while Jim muttered something about missing the days when prom meant sitting on the couch with cartoons and juice boxes.

At prom, Everlyn and Quinn were the couple everyone pointed to—even if they weren't a couple at all. They danced to every song, even the slow ones. They laughed until their sides hurt, took blurry selfies, and snuck out early to get milkshakes at the diner down the street. Somewhere in the middle of it all, Quinn managed to snag a make-out session with a senior volleyball player (thanks to a little not-so-subtle wingwoman energy from Everlyn), and he spent the rest of the night grinning like he'd just scored the game-winning goal.

But the real crown jewel came a few weeks later: draft day.

Everlyn still remembered how tightly Quinn had gripped her hand that morning. They'd flown out west with the whole Hughes crew—Ellen, Jim, Jack, and Luke—and even though the energy was pure chaos, it felt like magic. The kind of day you knew would change everything.

The venue buzzed with anticipation. Reporters hovered like hawks, camera flashes strobing across the crowd. Families in tailored suits and perfectly curled hair. Players fiddling with their ties, bouncing their knees, checking their phones every five seconds.

But Quinn? He was steady. Calm. Like he'd been waiting for this moment his whole life.

Because he had.

And when Vancouver called his name—Quinn Hughes, selected seventh overall by the Vancouver Canucks—the room erupted. Ellen gasped. Jim clapped hard enough to sting. Jack yelled something indistinct, probably profane, over the roar of applause.

Everlyn?

She stood up so fast she knocked over her chair.

She threw her arms around him, and the hug they shared was the kind of thing you felt in your soul. Tight. Breathless. The kind of hug that said, we did it. That all the long nights and frustrations and growing pains were worth it. She buried her face in his shoulder and whispered, "I'm so proud of you," more times than she could count.

He hugged her back just as fiercely. "Couldn't have done it without you, Eve."

He meant it.

The hours that followed were a blur of interviews, handshakes, smiles, and congratulations. Quinn was passed around from one media outlet to the next, pulled into rooms with cameras and sponsors and flashbulbs. And in the swirl of it all, Everlyn found herself drifting toward the one person who felt just as out of place as she did.

Luke.

He was quieter than usual, maybe overwhelmed by the spotlight or just missing the familiarity of home. Either way, he stuck close to Everlyn's side, and she didn't mind one bit.

They wandered the venue together, sipping soda from plastic cups, taking photos with cardboard cutouts, watching the draft board update in real time. At one point, she let him lean his head on her shoulder, his hair slightly messy from his button-down shirt collar.

"You okay, bud?" she asked gently.

"Yeah," he mumbled. "Just... a lot."

She nodded. "I get it."

They didn't need to say much after that. Sometimes, comfort was just existing beside someone who didn't need you to explain how you were feeling. And Luke, in many ways, felt like the little brother she never had.

He'd called her "Evie" for the first time that day. Just once, slipping it in casually when she handed him a packet of Skittles from her purse.

It stuck.

And she didn't realize it then—but Jack had noticed.

He'd been across the room, getting a bottle of water, and he'd looked up just in time to see her crouched next to Luke, laughing at something he said. Her hand resting on his shoulder, eyes soft, her entire posture folded into care.

Jack hadn't said a word. Just watched.

And felt that same tight pull in his chest that had started months ago. The one that always showed up when she was near.

Because Everlyn wasn't just a part of their lives anymore.

She was their life.

And Jack Hughes was starting to wonder if he'd ever be able to untangle his heart from hers.

⸻

When Quinn left for Michigan, everything shifted.

It wasn't abrupt. More like the slow fade of background music when a scene ends. His absence was a quiet hum in the Hughes house, a space that felt too big without his voice filling it. His name was still spoken daily—on calls, in casual conversation, mentioned when Luke would repeat something funny his oldest brother used to say—but the energy had changed.

And with Quinn gone, so too was Everlyn's usual reason to be around.

She didn't disappear, not completely. Luke wouldn't let her. He texted her almost every day, sent her TikToks and memes, even guilt-tripped her with sad selfies captioned "you abandoned me" until she agreed to come by. Saturday mornings and Sunday afternoons became their thing—quick visits that turned into full-day hangouts, movies on the couch, post-practice runs to the smoothie shop.

But it wasn't the same. Not like it used to be.

Until Jack had an idea.

Jack Hughes had always been the sharpest of the three brothers. His brain worked fast, calculated odds like a chess master on a sugar high. And when he realized Everlyn's visits were becoming fewer and farther between, he knew he had to do something.

So, naturally, he tanked a math exam.

Not completely—just enough to raise a few parental eyebrows. He followed it up with a lazy English quiz and a conveniently "forgotten" science worksheet. By the end of the week, Ellen was concerned, Luke was suspicious, and Jack was already plotting his next move.

"I think I need help," he told his mom with carefully rehearsed sincerity. "Like... tutoring help."

Ellen blinked. "You? You've had straight A's since third grade."

"Yeah, well," he shrugged, biting the inside of his cheek to stop himself from smiling. "Maybe I peaked early."

Ellen didn't question it further. Within an hour, she was on the phone with Everlyn, practically begging her to step in.

And when she agreed? Jack almost jumped out of his seat in joy. Almost.

The first tutoring session was a masterclass in subtlety.

He showed up with his notebook wide open, pencil twirling between his fingers, and an expression that screamed I'm totally lost. Everlyn raised a brow the moment she saw his notes—color-coded, flawlessly organized, every assignment completed with precision.

"Okay, Einstein," she said, smirking as she slid into the chair across from him. "What exactly do you need help with?"

Jack scratched the back of his neck, doing his best impression of a sheepish student. "Literally everything."

But Everlyn wasn't just smart—she was Everlyn. She saw through him within the first ten minutes.

Especially when he started "accidentally" getting easy questions wrong, or pretending to mix up formulas he clearly had memorized. At one point, she gave him a pop quiz on vocabulary and he aced it in under a minute. His face turned the lightest shade of pink when she smiled at him afterward, tilting her head like she was onto something.

She never called him out.

Not once.

She just played along. Grinned when he fumbled a fake answer. Rolled her eyes when he exaggerated his confusion. And when the session ended, she leaned in with that same mischievous spark in her eyes and said, "By the way... we've got a home game Friday. You should come."

Jack blinked. "Yeah?"

"Yeah," she said, grabbing her bag. "I'll save you a seat."

He went.

And he didn't stop going after that.

Watching her play was... something else. She was electric on the court. All 5'6 of her moving with fire and finesse, jumping higher than anyone expected, hitting balls with a precision that made the crowd gasp. Jack sat in the stands with Luke, hands stuffed in his hoodie pocket, trying to look nonchalant while fighting the urge to stand every time she scored.

She was fierce. Fearless. Unstoppable.

It did things to him.

After her games, she'd find him outside the gym, sweaty and glowing and absolutely radiant. Sometimes she'd toss him a teasing smile, asking, "Did I impress?" like she didn't already know the answer. And he'd say something dumb like, "You were okay," just to make her roll her eyes.

He loved when she rolled her eyes at him.

In return, she started showing up to his games. Sometimes she'd sit beside Luke, sometimes she'd bring one of her friends. Once, she even wore his NTDP jersey over her sweatshirt—completely nonchalant, like it meant nothing.

It meant everything. Seeing her in the stands with his name and number on her back sent shivers down his spine. 

Jack played like he had something to prove when she was in the crowd. Moved faster. Sharper. Pushed harder. His coaches noticed, his teammates noticed. He noticed.

And God, she was really starting to know his world too. She could match Trevor's chaotic energy beat for beat, holding her own against his wildest banter. Cole Caufield called her "the team MVP" after she roasted three of them during a team dinner. They adored her. Everyone adored her.

Jack wasn't even jealous. Just in awe.

He watched her laugh with his friends, toss popcorn at Luke, joke with his mom, and still somehow make time for him—quiet moments in the car, shared glances across the room, inside jokes exchanged through nothing but a look.

They were becoming close. Real friends.

And maybe that should've been enough.

But it wasn't.

Because somewhere between the tutoring sessions and the post-game fries, Jack's feelings had spiraled into something he couldn't hide anymore. Not from himself. Not from the way his stomach flipped when she touched his arm. Not from the way his pulse picked up when she said his name a little too softly.

He was falling for her. Fast.

And it scared the hell out of him.

Because she was leaving soon. Graduation was around the corner. College applications were already in, and she'd been talking about campuses in other states. Other coasts. Her life was about to expand in ways his couldn't touch yet.

And Jack?

He was just starting to feel like she saw him as more than Quinn's little brother.

So now, every laugh they shared felt a little too short. Every hug a little too brief. Every goodbye a little too heavy.

He knew the clock was ticking.

But God, if he could just freeze time for a little while longer... just a few more "tutoring"sessions, a few more late-night texts, a few more games where she wore his name on her back...

Maybe he could find the courage to tell her how he felt.

Before it was too late.

⸻

She was gone now.

Off chasing sunshine in California, trading small-town hallways for sprawling palm trees and crowded lecture halls. UCLA looked good on Everlyn—of course it did. Top volleyball program. Dream business school. A campus that buzzed with potential. It was everything she had worked for, everything she deserved.

But for Jack Hughes?

It felt like something had been hollowed out of him the moment she left.

He didn't say goodbye like he should have. Not really. He gave her one last hug, half-sincere, half-guarded, a little too quick. He told her to have fun. She promised to keep in touch. She didn't look back when she got in the car.

And then she was gone.

Jack tried to pretend it didn't affect him. He threw himself into hockey, training harder than ever in preparation for his draft year. He focused on speed, strength, footwork—anything to keep his mind off the ache that curled around his ribs every time he caught a glimpse of her old volleyball hoodie in the laundry room.

But autopilot only lasted so long.

Luke was quieter too. Less sunshine, more shadow. He didn't say it out loud, but Jack could feel it—Everlyn's absence hung in the Hughes house like a missing puzzle piece. Meals were quieter. Weekend movie nights didn't feel the same. Even Ellen had made a comment once, half-joking, "I miss our fourth child."

Jack missed her in ways he didn't have words for. Missed the way she used to steal fries off his plate. The way her laugh bounced down the stairs before she did. The way she made everything—everyone—feel lighter.

And then came Thanksgiving.

Quinn was coming home from Michigan. That was expected. The house had been buzzing with preparations all week—Ellen bustling through the kitchen, Jim dusting off the leaf for the dining room table, Luke threatening to eat the pie before it was even baked. Jack was looking forward to it, sure. But even the idea of a full Hughes reunion couldn't quite lift the haze that had settled in his chest since September.

Until the door opened.

And everything stopped.

It was Quinn standing there, his suitcase by his side, a trimmed beard on his jaw that made him look more like a man than a teenager. He grinned wide, stepping into the warmth of the house, pulling Luke into a one-armed hug.

But Jack barely registered his brother's return.

Because behind Quinn, suitcase in hand, stood Everlyn.

Her hair was longer now, sun-kissed and wavy in a way that only California could do. She wore an oversized hoodie with her school's logo on the sleeve and that same soft expression she always had when she was trying not to cry from happiness.

Time froze.

And then it crashed into motion.

Quinn stepped aside just in time for Everlyn to drop her bag and launch herself into Jack's arms.

"You're here," he whispered into her shoulder, voice rougher than he meant it to be.

"Of course I'm here," she murmured back. "Where else would I be?"

She smelled like vanilla and travel and something achingly familiar. Jack didn't let himself hold her for more than a second too long—but God, did he want to.

Then came Luke, barreling down the stairs like he'd been summoned by fate itself. "EVE!"

She barely had time to turn before he was lifting her off the ground, arms wrapped tight around her waist.

"Missed you so much," he blurted, voice muffled against her hoodie. "You're not allowed to leave again. I'm serious. I'll hide your passport. I'll chain your suitcase to the water heater."

She laughed, and something in the house shifted back into place.

Home.

That's what she was. What she had always been.

Jack stood back and watched her with a smile that didn't quite reach his eyes. She still looked at him the same way—fond, soft, maybe a little amused. And he'd gotten better at hiding how her gaze lit a fire under his skin. Better at swallowing the lump that rose in his throat when she was near.

She knew, of course.

Of course she knew.

She was Everlyn Briar. Too observant. Too intuitive. She could solve calculus in her head and read body language like a second language. Jack's not-so-subtle stares. The way he hovered near her but never quite reached. The way he smiled too hard when she was around.

And Quinn? He knew too. Jack could feel it in the sideways glances, the way his older brother's smirk would twitch upward anytime Jack so much as offered to get Eve a drink.

But no one said anything.

Because Jack never said anything.

And maybe that's why nothing ever happened.

The weekend was a blur of traditions and warmth. They ran the annual turkey trot that morning—Jack and Luke sprinting ahead like maniacs, Everlyn laughing breathlessly as she tried to keep up. They came home to Ellen's legendary spread: turkey so tender it fell apart, stuffing soaked in butter, mashed potatoes Jack would defend with his life.

It was loud. It was chaotic. It was perfect.

And when the night wound down, it felt almost scripted.

Just like old times, Everlyn slipped upstairs after dessert, claiming she was "just checking on Luke." And just like always, no one questioned it. She found him curled up in bed with the newest Fast and Furious playing, already half-asleep.

She climbed in beside him without a second thought.

Jack found them later, lights dimmed, movie credits rolling. Luke snoring softly. Everlyn curled against him, one hand draped protectively over her like Luke was afraid she would disappear if he let go. 

It made his heart ache in ways he didn't know how to name.

Because for the first time in months, everyone was home.

Everyone.

And still, something about her felt impossibly far away.

⸻

Time had a strange way of looping in on itself.

One minute, she was cheering for Quinn on his draft day, wiping away tears in between interviews and snapshots, her dress wrinkled from hugging everyone in sight. And then—just like that—it was years later, and she was back in that familiar whirlwind. Only this time, it wasn't Quinn's name echoing through the arena.

It was Luke's.

She had promised herself she wouldn't cry. Really, she had. She made it halfway through the morning with dry eyes and a steady smile. But the second his name was called—Luke Hughes, drafted to the New Jersey Devils—it was over.

A mess. A disaster, honestly.

Tears streaming down her cheeks, breath catching in her throat, trying desperately not to smudge the mascara she'd put on with care. Josh Norris had leaned over halfway through the ceremony, gently tapping her shoulder with a tissue and whispering, "Don't worry, he's the last Hughes to be drafted so you won't have to do this all over again next year."

She laughed through her tears.

Because this moment—this—was sacred.

Luke was beaming next to his buzzing brothers up front, his hands shaking just slightly as he held up his new jersey. And her heart swelled with something fierce and maternal, the same way it had when he was thirteen and scared to come downstairs to a party, when she tucked him in during Fast & Furious marathons, when he looked at her like she hung the stars just for him.

He was grown now. Taller. Broader. More confident. He was mature. Luke Hughes was no longer the little boy she once met. 

He was a man now.

But he'd still held her hand before the draft started.

Still leaned into her shoulder when the nerves kicked in.

Still whispered, "I'm glad you're here," like it was the only thing keeping him grounded.

She had always been a safe space for him. And she always would be.

⸻

Jack had changed too.

Not overnight. Not all at once. But the slow kind of change that creeps in between seasons. Years had passed. His name had been called. His life had launched in ways most people only dreamed about.

And with every new city, every new headline, every new spotlight—he still thought about her.

They stayed in touch. Little messages. Summer meet-ups. Inside jokes exchanged over text. But distance made it easier to push those feelings away. He had flings, distractions, moments of temporary interest. He convinced himself it had passed.

That what he felt for her was just nostalgia.

Until she came back.

She graduated from UCLA in 2022—business degree, communications minor, a resumé that practically glittered. And then, in the kind of twist only the universe could write, she landed her first job in New Jersey. A start-up company. PR and account management. Fast-paced. Groundbreaking. Local.

Jack didn't find out until a week after she moved in.

He meant to message her first. He really did. But time slipped, and she was adjusting, and he didn't want to seem overeager.

Until she received a package at her new apartment. No note. No message. Just a red New Jersey Devils jersey—his jersey—and two tickets to their home opener.

He knew she'd understand.

And she did.

⸻

That night, she walked into the Prudential Center and it felt like the world had hit rewind. Only this time, the crowd was bigger. Louder. Older. And Jack? Jack wasn't a boy anymore.

He was Jack Hughes now.

Franchise face. Highlight reel superstar.

And the second she saw him skate out onto the ice, she felt her heart stop for a beat.

Because he wasn't the lanky, backwards-hat-wearing teenager who used to fake bad grades just to sit beside her. He was taller now. Broader. His movements were sharp, calculated. Every stride held purpose. The crowd roared and chanted his name when he touched the puck. He didn't just play hockey. He commanded it.

She couldn't take her eyes off him.

And he?

He felt her the second she stepped into the arena.

Didn't see her at first. But he felt her. Like gravity.

After the win, he found her in the tunnel. Same smile. Same soft eyes. But different now. Grown. Glowing.

"Hey, stranger," she said, tugging lightly at the jersey he'd sent.

He laughed, that same dopey grin breaking across his face. "Looks better on you."

They hugged—longer than they should have. He smelled like ice and sweat and home. And when they pulled back, something unspoken lingered in the air between them. A pause. A beat. Something that had never quite gone away.

They went out for drinks after, just the two of them. A quiet bar, warm lights, quiet music humming in the background. He looked different here too. Not just older—steadier. The way he carried himself, the way he ordered her drink without asking, the way he leaned back and watched her talk like he was cataloging every word.

He wasn't cocky. Just... sure of himself.

It was attractive. She wouldn't lie.

And Jack? Jack felt like he had been punched in the chest.

Because she was even more beautiful now. Effortlessly radiant. Still that same warmth, still that same grace. But there was something new too—something confident, something grown.

He kept staring at her. In the flicker of candlelight, with her hand curled around her glass and her lips curved in that same soft smile, Jack felt like he was sixteen all over again.

Breathless.

Totally wrecked.

Totally in love.

And it scared the hell out of him.

⸻

They made it a tradition—weekly coffee runs, dinner or drinks after games, late-night walks through the city. She fit into his world like she always had. Seamlessly.

She met the team. Jesper pulled her into a bear hug like they hadn't missed a day. Dawson was polite and immediately impressed. And Nico? Nico looked like he was about to make a move—until he caught Jack watching her.

Just one look.

That's all it took.

No one made a move after that. No one had to.

Because it was obvious.

She was Jack's girl.

Maybe not officially.

Maybe not yet.

But everyone knew.

Especially him.

⸻

It started the way it always did—with a ticket.

Every home game, like clockwork, Jack left two tickets for Everlyn at will call. No message. No pressure. Just a quiet gesture, a ritual of theirs that said you're welcome here. Always. And she'd used the first one nearly every time.

But the second?

She never had. Until now.

Jack's world tilted the second he saw her walk through the tunnel with someone else by her side.

He was tall. Blonde. Crisp linen shirt. One of those designer watches that practically screamed my dad plays golf with your CEO. The kind of guy you'd expect to see ordering a $19 martini and not blinking. His name was Jordan, and he shook Jack's hand with the kind of over-firm grip that tried too hard to say something.

Jack didn't flinch, but God, he wanted to.

Jordan asked questions like he was running an interview—"How's the ice this season? Do you ever get recognized on the street?"—and Jack answered through clenched teeth, polite but cold. He watched as Jordan rested a hand on Everlyn's back, too casual, too familiar. She smiled, but it didn't quite reach her eyes.

Still, Jack put on the happy face.

Because that's what he did. He wasn't going to ruin anything for her—not now, not ever. She looked happy. And if that was real... well, then Jack could deal with it. He'd spent years pushing those feelings to the back of his mind. What was a few more months?

But it was a few more months.

And Jordan didn't go anywhere.

He became a fixture. At games. At dinners. Tagging along to post-game drinks, always ordering for the table like he knew what everyone wanted. Everlyn still made time for Jack, but it was different now. Tighter. More filtered. Coffee dates became his favorite part of the week—not because they were exciting, but because they were just her. No Jordan. No compromise.

Just them.

Just how he liked it.

⸻

The lake house in Michigan was supposed to be a sanctuary.

It always had been. A safe haven carved into the summers. A place where the Hughes brothers could take a breath, train hard, play harder, and be surrounded by the people who made the noise feel quiet.

It was Quinn's idea to bring everyone together that summer—an annual tradition, their own off-season camp that just so happened to include boats, beers, and more competitive tubing than anyone should legally survive.

The house buzzed with energy. Quinn had his old teammates in town—Josh and Dalton Norris, all heart and chaos. Luke brought his crew from Michigan—Dylan Duke, Mark Estapa, Ethan Edwards, each of them slipping seamlessly into the rhythm of the house. Jack, of course, had Trevor and Turcs, whose personalities were basically caffeine personified.

And Everlyn?

She brought Jordan.

The mood shifted the second they arrived. Jordan barely greeted anyone before making a beeline for the deck, muttering something about needing to "take it easy" after the drive. The Hughes boys watched Eve with subtle worry, noting the way her shoulders tensed, the way she scanned the room like she was looking for permission to be herself again.

They tried to bring her in. Quinn cracked a beer and started loading up the boat. Jack blasted a playlist of her favorite cheesy country songs. Luke ran to get the rope for tubing.

"Come on," Quinn called out, tossing her a life jacket with a grin. "Let's get out there."

She smiled—small, tight—but before she could step forward, Jordan touched her wrist.

"You don't have to go, babe. I was hoping we could chill here, have a drink or two. You've been talking about relaxing all week."

The way he said it wasn't cruel. Just expectant.

And Everlyn, as always, folded.

"Yeah," she said, her voice barely above the waves. "That sounds nice."

She took the jacket off. Handed it back to Quinn. Her smile didn't reach her eyes.

The brothers all exchanged a look.

Jordan hadn't just dimmed her light—he was stomping it out, slowly.

⸻

Quinn didn't wait long.

As soon as Jordan disappeared back to Jersey, he pulled Everlyn aside. They slipped down the dock together, away from the buzz of the house and the music, until it was just the lapping of the water and the heaviness of unspoken words.

He didn't sugarcoat it.

"You're not okay," he said.

She froze. "Quinn..."

"You don't laugh the same. You don't light up the way you used to. I watched you talk yourself out of joining the boat like you were doing him a favor for existing."

She blinked hard. "It's complicated."

"No, it's not. He's not your partner, Eve. He's your leash."

That broke her.

Her lip trembled. She turned away for a second like she could hide it, but Quinn stepped forward, pulled her into a hug, and the truth spilled out like water over a dam.

It was like this in Jersey. Jordan always had a reason why she shouldn't go out. Why she should stay in. He didn't trust the hockey scene. Didn't like her independence. The lake house made him uncomfortable. Her made him uncomfortable.

Quinn listened, jaw clenched.

"You don't deserve this," he said firmly. "You never did. You're allowed to be loved out loud, Everlyn. Not hidden. Not controlled."

She cried. God, she cried.

But when she went to bed that night, her decision was already made.

⸻

The next morning, she called Jordan.

She ended it. Direct. No stalling. No soft exit.

He didn't take it well.

He accused her—accused her of having feelings for one of the Hughes boys. "It's always been one of them, hasn't it? I should've known the second you made me come to this dumb lake house."

He hung up before she could say anything back.

And it hurt. It did. She was human, after all.

But she walked out onto the dock not five minutes later, barefoot, hoodie over her bikini, and looked out at the water where Jack and Trevor were laughing on the boat. The sun was shining. The breeze was warm. Luke waved at her from the deck, and Quinn handed her a beer with a proud smirk.

She was home.

And this time, there was no one telling her she couldn't enjoy it.

⸻

Jack couldn't stand it anymore.

Everlyn was smiling again, sure—but not the way she used to. Her laugh was a little quieter, her jokes a little softer, like she was afraid to take up too much space. She still had that spark, but it flickered instead of burned, like someone had dimmed her and walked away.

And Jack? Jack wanted to reignite her.

So he made it his mission to bring her back to life—one small act at a time.

He started with breakfast.

She always loved pancakes. He remembered that. Waffles were fine, but pancakes? Pancakes made her eyes light up. So every morning, when someone inevitably asked what to make for the house, Jack was the first to say it:

"Pancakes. Definitely."

He'd sneak her the last piece of bacon when no one was looking, tucking it onto her plate with a smirk. He'd always save her a seat next to him. And when the kitchen got too loud or crowded, he'd silently pass her the syrup like it was their secret language.

He got up early now, before the sun even stretched across the lake, because he knew she liked her morning runs. He'd tie his shoes and jog beside her, matching her pace, letting her pick the music. They didn't talk much—didn't need to. Just ran side by side, feet hitting the dirt road in quiet rhythm, breaths syncing up like clockwork.

He volunteered for errands now too. Grocery runs. Beer pick-ups. Ice refills.

"I'll go," he'd say casually. "Eve, wanna come?"

She always did.

They'd play music too loud in the car. Race to find the weirdest flavor of chips in the store. Argue over the right ratio of peanut butter to chocolate. He'd lean into her cart, throw in random things just to make her laugh. Her smile was starting to come back, slowly, piece by piece.

And Jack? Jack was falling all over again.

⸻

The fire crackled as the night crept in.

They'd spent all day out on the boat—tubing, flipping off docks, laughing until their stomachs hurt. By the time the sun dipped below the trees, everyone was sun-drenched, half-tipsy, and high on that unbeatable summer haze.

So naturally, they circled the fire pit.

Everyone gathered on the chairs or sprawled out on blankets, drinks in hand, cheeks still flushed from the sun. The playlist was low in the background, country twang giving way to soft indie beats. Someone tossed another log onto the fire, and the stories began.

First came the classics—Quinn's worst playoff beard attempts, Trevor's infamous grocery store prank, Jack's rookie year mishaps. Then came Luke's awkward high school phase, complete with dramatic reenactments of him failing to talk to girls at school dances.

Luke rolled his eyes and grumbled, "Yeah? Well you did the exact same thing when you first met Eve."

Everyone paused.

"You couldn't even sit next to her at dinner for months," Luke went on, completely unbothered. "Because you had such a massive crush on her."

Jack felt the color drain from his face, then immediately return with a vengeance.

The fire masked most of it, but the way his ears burned gave him away.

"OHHHH," Turc and Zegras chorused at the same time. "NO WAY."

Jack laughed a little too hard, trying to brush it off. "That's such a lie, Luke. C'mon."

But then Eve turned toward him, eyes soft, a smile creeping onto her lips. She looked at Quinn first—he gave a knowing nod—and then gently placed her hand on Jack's back.

"It's okay, Jack," she said sweetly. "I thought it was cute. But you were really bad at hiding it."

Dead. He was dead.

"You knew?" Jack asked, face frozen in panic.

"Of course I knew," she said with a small laugh. "I've always known."

And as if that wasn't enough to end him entirely, Ellen strolled out of the house with a tray of cookies and chimed in with perfect timing:

"Oh, Jack. Everyone knew."

The chorus of "OOOOHHHHH!" exploded around the fire.

Trevor nearly fell off his chair. Quinn tossed a marshmallow at Jack's head. Luke looked smug as hell. Jack buried his face in his hands, muttering something about never showing his face again.

It was harmless. All in good fun.

But the second the teasing died down and the yawns started, people began peeling off into bedrooms, one by one. The lake grew quieter, the fire dimming to embers.

And Jack stayed behind.

⸻

He sat there alone, elbows on knees, head tilted back to watch the stars. The air was still warm, but the night felt heavy in a way that pressed on his chest.

She knew. This whole time. He'd spent years hiding feelings he thought would ruin everything—only to find out that she'd seen them from the start.

And she hadn't run. She hadn't pushed him away.

She thought it was cute.

"God," he muttered, dragging a hand through his hair. "I'm such an idiot."

Then came the soft sound of feet on grass.

A blanket settled across his shoulders. A familiar head rested gently against his own.

He looked down and saw her—Everlyn, curled into his side, wrapped in the same blanket, her cheek against his shoulder. Barefaced, makeup long gone, hoodie pulled over her knees.

"Don't worry about it, Jacky," she whispered. "I thought it was adorable. I thought you were adorable."

His heart flat-out stopped.

She thought he was cute too.

He blinked, eyes wide, trying to process what those words meant. What this meant. Her voice was low and sleepy, but there was no mistaking the sincerity in it.

She hadn't said it to tease him. She meant it.

Without thinking, he wrapped an arm around her waist, pulling her closer, letting her warmth melt into his side. She didn't flinch. Didn't move. Just sighed and settled in.

His hand rested at the small of her back, thumb brushing the fabric of her hoodie. His heart was racing.

She always took care of them—of everyone. Always made sure Luke had what he needed, that Quinn had someone to ground him, that Jack didn't feel invisible. She was the glue, the safety net, the one who never let herself fall until she knew they were all okay.

And the thought that she had spent so long dimming herself for someone who couldn't see her? Who wouldn't see her?

It made Jack's jaw clench.

He'd been there. Right there. And he hadn't stepped in. Hadn't spoken up. He'd let her walk through that alone because he was too scared of what it would mean for him.

Never again.

Not after this.

⸻

Things had found their rhythm again.

Back in Jersey, back in their bubble, back in that comfortable hum of familiarity that made every day feel like a deep breath. But this time, there was something more. Something better.

Because now Luke was here too.

Everlyn had 2 out of 3 Hughes boys back under one roof, and it was like someone had finally returned the missing pieces of her soul. She hadn't realized how lonely she'd been until her days were filled again—trips to the rink, late-night Mario Kart tournaments, homemade pasta nights where Jack burned the garlic bread and Luke put entirely too much cheese in the sauce.

It was chaos. It was home.

They shared a three-bedroom apartment in Hoboken with a view of the skyline and a couch that had seen more naps than conversations. When they signed the lease, Luke had casually mentioned the third room being for "hockey gear or guests," but they all knew the truth.

That room was hers.

She didn't officially live there. Not on paper. But she might as well have. Her stuff was in the drawers. Her favorite cereal was on the shelf. Her slippers were by the door. Half her wardrobe was draped across the back of the desk chair. She came and went freely, sometimes staying a night, sometimes staying a week, no one ever asking when she'd be back—because they already knew.

That room would always be waiting.

It was one of the few places in the world where she never had to ask if she belonged.

⸻

One night, she was actually home in her own apartment—a rare occurrence, considering how often she found herself curled up on the Hughes' couch with a blanket and a mug of something warm. She had just gotten out of the shower, wrapped in her comfiest robe, hair twisted up in a towel, when her phone rang.

Quinn.

It started with the usual—how was your day, did you eat, how's the new campaign going, tell Luke to call his mother. But somewhere between casual updates and light teasing, the conversation shifted. Deepened. As it always did with Quinn, eventually.

"I've been thinking about... Jordan," she admitted quietly, eyes focused on the ceiling.

Quinn didn't interrupt. Just waited.

"I just—I feel stupid," she said. "I let him control so much. I let him talk me out of things I loved. I let him make me feel small. And I knew better. I always knew better."

"Evie."

His voice was soft. Steady.

"You're not stupid. You're human. And you left. That's the hard part. You did it."

She swallowed. "It still makes me feel like I lost a year of myself."

"You didn't lose it," he said. "You reclaimed it. One day at a time."

There was a long silence.

Then, like it was nothing at all, Quinn added: "It was nice of Jack to make you smiling his top priority this summer."

Her heart paused.

She sat up a little straighter, eyebrows tugging together. "What?"

"Jack," Quinn repeated. "It was nice of him. To make sure you smiled again."

She opened her mouth, but no words came. Her thoughts were caught in a whirl—memories of pancakes, early morning runs, gas station trips, firelight laughter. The way Jack always showed up in exactly the way she needed.

Quinn continued, voice low and casual.

"He's a nice guy."

Everlyn narrowed her eyes. "I know that, Quinn. I grew up with him."

"No," Quinn said, and this time, his voice had a different weight to it. A quiet emphasis.

"I mean... he's nice."

She stilled.

It was such a simple word. But the way he said it—the subtle dip in tone, the almost affectionate cadence—shifted the meaning entirely.

It wasn't just about kindness. It was about care. The kind of nice that went deeper than polite gestures and well-mannered smiles. It was the kind that showed up when you needed it. The kind that held space without asking for anything in return.

Jack was nice.

He was thoughtful in a way most people weren't. Protective without being possessive. Gentle in a way that made you feel safe. He was the kind of man who made sure everyone else had what they needed before taking anything for himself. He remembered your favorite things and brought them home without saying a word. He loved quietly—but completely.

And suddenly, it hit her:

Jack had always been like that.

With her.

She hung up the call shortly after, claiming she was tired. But sleep never came easy that night.

She laid in bed, staring at the ceiling, Quinn's words echoing like ripples in her chest.

He's nice.

Jack, who always made sure her coffee was right.

Jack, who checked her tires when it snowed.

Jack, who gave her space when she needed it, and warmth when she didn't know she did.

Jack, who never stopped showing up.

She turned her head, looking at the empty side of her bed.

And she thought: Am I crazy?

Was she insane for even considering it? For letting her thoughts wander into dangerous territory? For entertaining the possibility that maybe—just maybe—the boy she'd grown up with, the one who had waited and waited without ever saying it out loud, could be the one she was supposed to see all along?

She rolled onto her side, clutching the pillow to her chest, eyes heavy with questions.

What if she ruined it?

What if she broke the family that saved her?

And worse... what if he didn't feel the same anymore?

What if she had waited too long?

⸻

The annual charity gala had always been part of the routine.

One of those must-attend events on the Devils' calendar. Glitz, glam, donors, handshakes, perfectly staged photo ops—and beneath all that, a chance to raise money for good causes. Jack had done a few now. Eve had come with him to the last one, and the arrangement had always been easy. Casual. Fun.

This year? Different.

She could feel it. In her chest. In her stomach. In the way she stood a little too long in front of the mirror trying to decide between earrings. It had started subtly—just a thought, a whisper of a feeling—but after that conversation with Quinn, it was like a switch had flipped.

She was aware now. Hyper-aware. Of how Jack looked at her. Of how he always waited for her to walk through the door first. Of how he always held her things, brought her snacks, fixed her laces when she wore shoes with ties. Things he'd always done... but things that now screamed louder.

He was nice. But not just that. Not anymore.

He was steady. Thoughtful. Quietly romantic in ways that weren't about flowers or fanfare—but about presence. Constant, unwavering presence.

And for the first time, she wondered what it meant that he never expected anything in return.

⸻

They were supposed to go as a trio—her, Jack, and Luke. But then Luke had the audacity to fall in love and get himself a girlfriend, leaving Everlyn to go solo with Jack. She'd teased him about it for a full week, but truthfully... it made her nervous.

This wasn't just another event. Not this time.

The lead-up felt different. More intimate. Jack had taken her shopping, trailing behind her in boutiques, giving honest feedback with that same crooked grin. He didn't complain once, even when she tried on twelve different dresses and only narrowed it down to two. He just watched. Waited. Carried her purse and snacks and made sure she didn't talk herself out of something she loved.

They picked her gown together.

A maroon silk number that hugged her curves and dipped just low enough to be elegant without being too much. It made her skin glow. It made his mouth go dry.

She said yes to it when he whispered, "That's the one," with a look in his eyes that stayed with her all night.

⸻

The day of the gala, Everlyn turned their shared space into her own personal glam studio. She spread her makeup across the bathroom counter, curled her hair in sections, and took deep, grounding breaths every few minutes to keep from spiraling into full-on nerves.

It didn't help that Jack was being Jack.

Bringing her little snacks every hour like clockwork.

A granola bar. A handful of grapes. A pack of those crackers she loved from the bodega.

He kept her water bottle full, placing it within reach like it was part of the process. "Drink," he'd remind her with a little tap on the shoulder. "No dehydration meltdowns today."

She couldn't help but smile at him. He was in sweats and a hoodie, hair tousled, lounging on the couch while she transformed herself into someone worthy of red carpets.

She didn't know it, but Jack was suffering.

He kept stealing glances through the half-open door, catching flashes of her bare shoulders, the soft shape of her face under golden bathroom light. She was already stunning, and she wasn't even done yet.

When she finally stepped out—hair swept into a soft updo, makeup glowing, maroon gown clinging in all the right places—Jack stopped breathing.

No exaggeration.

She walked into the living room and time froze.

Luke was the first to recover, standing up with a big smile. "Whoa. You look incredible, Eve."

She smiled, smoothing her dress down nervously. "Thanks, Lukey."

Jack?

He was just standing there, mouth slightly open, staring like he'd never seen a woman before.

Because he hadn't. Not like this.

This wasn't just Everlyn, his best friend, the girl who made pancakes and knew how he liked his coffee. This was Everlyn, the woman. Powerful. Elegant. Ethereal.

Maroon and gold and glowing from the inside out.

He stepped forward slowly, all black tux hugging him perfectly—hair freshly cut and styled, thanks to her insistence, and now gelled into something polished but still him.

"You..." he finally managed, voice rough. "You look unreal."

Her cheeks flushed, and for a moment they just stood there, looking at each other, the noise of the apartment fading into silence.

"I had help," she said softly, nodding toward him. "You picked the dress, remember?"

"Still," he murmured. "Doesn't feel real."

And the way he looked at her then?

It was reverent.

Not hungry. Not lustful. Just... soft. In awe.

Like she was the most beautiful thing he'd ever seen.

And maybe she was.

⸻

The gala started the same as every other year.

Bright lights. Sparkling gowns. Clinking glasses. Jack and Everlyn moved through the crowd like they always had—effortlessly side by side. He guided her gently through the sea of donors and sponsors, a hand resting on the small of her back like he'd always belonged there.

But this time... that simple touch felt different.

It was warm. Steady. Firm in a way that made her feel held—not just escorted. Not just shown off.

Protected.

And Everlyn couldn't stop thinking about it.

Jack chatted easily, charming everyone as usual, but her body was attuned to him. The whisper of his palm. The careful way he shifted her gently toward conversations. The pride in his voice when he introduced her as his date—even if it was unspoken, unofficial.

She didn't say anything. Couldn't.

Because every time she looked at him tonight, all she could hear was Quinn's voice in her head.

He's nice.

Not just nice. Jack Hughes nice. The kind of nice that meant pancakes in the morning and water bottles filled without asking. The kind that stood beside you silently until you were ready to speak.

And right now, he was looking at her like he was seeing her for the first time—even though he'd always seen her.

⸻

The DJ opened the floor for slow dances, and Jack didn't hesitate.

He turned to her with a soft, crooked smile. "Come on."

They'd danced together before. Plenty of times. It had never meant anything before. But now? As they found their spot on the dance floor, facing each other, hands tentatively finding their place—it meant everything.

The music hummed low, a soft melody that wrapped around them like a secret. Her hand slipped into his, the other resting on his shoulder. Jack's free arm slid around her waist with quiet confidence.

And then... stillness.

They were swaying. They were dancing. But all Jack could focus on was the way Everlyn was looking at him.

Intensely. Softly. Like she was searching for something and finding it in his face.

He studied her—tried to decode it. Her eyes were locked on his like she couldn't look away. And for the first time in all the years he'd known her, he realized she was finally seeing him back.

"What's on your mind, Evie?" he asked, voice just above a whisper.

She didn't answer.

She just kept looking at him. Drinking him in. Her mind was running wild—flashing through every moment that had led them here.

The shy dinners when he couldn't look her in the eye. The fake bad grades. The way he always showed up. Every summer spent putting her first. Every little thing she'd brushed off as "just Jack being Jack."

But now she understood.

He'd been in love with her this whole time.

And she'd missed it.

She swallowed, breath hitching. "You," she said softly.

Jack blinked. "Me?"

"I can't stop thinking about you."

He stared, stunned. Heart leaping. Breath catching. He scanned her face again and again, like he needed confirmation that this was real—that she was real.

And then it hit him.

The look in her eyes.

The one he'd been wearing for years.

She had it now. That open, unfiltered, aching gaze that he used to hide behind smirks and excuses. She was seeing him—really, truly seeing him—and God, it made his chest burn.

The song ended, but Jack didn't hear the music stop. The room disappeared. His grip on her hand tightened as the MC's voice faded into the background.

They returned to their table, but Jack couldn't focus. Couldn't breathe.

He was spinning.

Eve sat beside him, her hand resting on top of his. It wasn't new. Not really. But tonight, it was loaded. Charged. Different.

Jack needed air.

⸻

He slipped out without a word and found himself on the rooftop.

The city stretched beneath him, lights flickering, the hum of cars far below. He paced, hand tugging at the collar of his tux, heart pounding out of rhythm.

He was scared. Not of her—but of hope.

Because this was everything he wanted.

And that's when he heard it.

The door opened with a soft click.

He turned—and there she was.

Glistening in moonlight. Her maroon gown catching the breeze. Her updo slightly loosened from the night. Her eyes... locked on his.

They didn't speak.

Didn't need to.

The air between them was thick with unsaid things. It wasn't silence. It was a conversation without words. A thousand unspoken truths floating between them like stars.

Jack looked at her like she held the answers to questions he hadn't dared ask. And Everlyn looked at him like she finally, finally understood what was right in front of her.

And then—they ran.

No hesitation. No overthinking. Just gravity.

They met in the middle. Arms around each other. Breathless. Shaking.

Their foreheads pressed together. Their hands clung tight.

"Jack..." she whispered, barely breathing.

He closed his eyes, voice cracking. "I know, Everlyn... I know."

And then—he kissed her.

Years of waiting, of wondering, of almosts and maybes—gone.

It wasn't perfect. It wasn't polished. But it was everything. His hands clung to her waist like she was the only thing keeping him grounded. Her hands framed his face, thumbs brushing over his cheeks like she was memorizing the feel of him.

The city roared beneath them.

But up there, on that rooftop, it was silent.

Just two hearts, finally meeting in the middle.

Just two souls, saying what words never could.

⸻

It had been over a year since that night on the rooftop.

Since the city went quiet, and Everlyn stopped running, and Jack finally stopped waiting.

Since the moment their hearts collided in the most certain kind of way—the kind that didn't need promises made with words, because it was all written in the way they looked at each other.

Since then, nothing had been the same.

And yet—everything felt like home.

Every morning, Jack woke up with that same quiet awe he'd had since he was fifteen. The way she hummed while brushing her teeth. The way she'd press her forehead to his before leaving for work. The way she poured her love into everything around her without hesitation or fear.

Every day, he fell harder. Every day, he chose her again.

And Everlyn? She felt like she'd finally exhaled.

Jack Hughes was steady. Warm. Deeply kind in the ways no one else got to see. And he loved her in a way that didn't demand attention—but deserved every bit of it. There was no show, no need for validation. Just him. Quietly hers.

They had made a life together. Not flashy. Not perfect. But theirs.

⸻

It was summer again.

Which meant one thing: the Hughes Lake House was alive.

It was tradition at this point. Offseason hit, and the boys flocked to Michigan like it was a pilgrimage. Quinn was already there, helping Ellen prep bedrooms. Luke had brought a handful of friends from around the league—Macklin Celebrini and Will Smith had become the wide-eyed younger brothers of the group overnight. The Tkachuk brothers had showed up in full chaos mode. And Jack had pulled together the old NTDP gang, making it feel like high school and the NHL were blending into one summer-long sleepover.

The lake house was laughter. Inside jokes. The smell of sunscreen and grilled food and dock water. The soundtrack was country music, clinking beers, and the occasional "WHO let Matthew drive the boat?!"

For the rookies, it was a dream. For the veterans, it was therapy.

And for Everlyn?

It was heaven.

She had her hands full—braiding wet hair, making sure no one left without sunscreen, yelling across the dock to make sure Macklin and Will weren't about to snap their necks trying new wakeboard tricks.

She was the same Eve she'd always been—loving and giving, with open arms and no limit to the space in her heart. She even tucked the rookies in like she had done for Luke all those years ago. Whispering reminders in the dark like,

"You don't have to lose who you are to belong here." "If you can't be yourself with someone, that's not someone worth staying for."

Words she'd once needed herself.

⸻

Jack stood at the door that night, watching her speak to Macklin and Will.

She was seated cross-legged on the living room floor, her maroon hoodie slipping off one shoulder, still in her swimsuit from earlier. Her voice was soft. Reassuring. Patient.

Jack felt his chest ache.

Because God, he loved her.

More than he'd ever loved anything in his life.

She was light. She was grace. And somehow—she was his.

⸻

He found Quinn on the back deck not long after. The moonlight danced across the lake in silver ripples. The sound of crickets filled the quiet. Jack stepped beside him, hands in his pockets, heart full.

Neither of them said anything for a long moment.

Until Jack broke the silence.

"She's... she's really..."

"I know," Quinn interrupted, smile pulling at the corners of his mouth. "I know, Jack."

He turned toward him, eyes warm. "I'm so happy for you two. I always knew. But seeing it? It's different. It's real."

Jack laughed softly, almost shy.

"I have it picked out, you know..."

Quinn blinked. "What?"

Jack looked down. Kicked the toe of his shoe against the deck.

"The ring. I got it. Not for now. I want to wait a little longer, but... I just know. She's it. She's always been it. And I got it early as a promise. A vow. For when I'm ready. For when she's ready."

Quinn just stared at him. Then stepped forward and pulled him into a hug.

It wasn't long. Wasn't loud.

But it was everything.

Two brothers, standing under a sky they grew up beneath, holding the future in their arms.

Inside, Eve stood in the kitchen, sipping from a mug of tea. She looked around at the house filled with laughter, light, and people she loved.

And her eyes found Jack through the window.

He was looking back at her.

And somehow, she knew.

[clanwarrior-tumbly]

Hello! If you’re not very occupied could I request a Sebastian Solace x mutated female reader (Reader was there during the lockdown and looks similar to Sebs due to her mutations)?

Sebastian crashes into reader after they both spot a black light (sebs wants it for his little store, reader wants it cuz the squiddles are annoying af), so they squabble for a bit till it ends up turning into a play fight for it but accidentally scratch each other up and break the black light so they both go empty handed full of stinging cuts and scratches, then tend to each other’s injuries.

Would love it to be fluff with a pinch of angst! Platonic or romantic is fine with me!

"That's not fair, I found it first!"

'We both found it at the same time, idiot. You know how rare it is to come by one of these?! My customers will easily fork over all their data for it!"

"Do you have any idea how many times a Squiddle has attacked me this week?! TOO MANY! I need this more."

"What you "need" to do is to learn what personal space is."

"How's it my fault when they pop up everywhere and I can't see two feet ahead of me in dark waters?? I can't even turn on my own light!"

"Well that's your problem. Learn some manners."

"I think you need to learn some, considering you just ripped it out of my hand!"

"Should I remind you who let you out of containment? I could've just swam by your cell, you know."

"....you better take that back, or else." With gnashed teeth, you scowled at Sebastian--the sea monster who had undergone mutations similar to your own--holding an item that you so dearly prized:

The blacklight.

After the blacksite went into lockdown and nearly every creature was released, you've done the best you could to survive on your own, scavenging for whatever items Sebastian neglected to scoop up.

Normally, you'd search through dim and dark rooms, as oftentimes those overlooked places contained the best kind of loot.

The only tradeoff was contending with the numerous Squiddles who were set loose. Although normally calm, they were easily enraged by any bright light shined on them...whether it was intentional or not. Even just standing near them pissed them off to the extreme.

They've attacked you quite a few times simply because your angler light was apparently too irritating for them. And by the time you managed to flick it off, they'd lunge for you, wrapping their tentacles around your arms and jabbing you with barbs.

Thankfully, they were not poisonous, but they still stung like hell.

Like those injections the guards and people in white coats used to give you.

They reminded you of..not-so-fun times, and you'd rather forget them and be able to navigate through the facility safely, and having a blacklight was the only way you could do so.

If only Sebastian wasn't so obsessed with snatching up everything he came across...

You knew he was forced to help the expendables, sure. But he had more than enough wares to sell at this point.

He's no stranger to killing customers out of annoyance, which wouldn't bother you...if not for the fact he took everything they had back instead of leaving something for you.

Yeah, you were a little petty.

But right now, you were thoroughly irritated by his greed.

"Or else what?" He sneered, daring you to finish that sentence as he switched the blacklight to his third hand.

"Or I'll...I'll." Pausing, you glanced over his shoulder, gasping dramatically. "Is that a Wall Dweller?"

"Huh? Where?" While normally smart, Sebastian was foolish enough to look behind him for one second-

Before he felt the light being snatched away, and he swung his head back, scowling upon seeing it back in your possession. "Had. Sucks to suck." You teased, holding it tightly in your two lower arms. "Try to get it from me now-"

"Oh, but I will. GIVE IT HERE!!!" Gnashing his teeth, he lunged at you with frightening speed, but you were quicker and dodged out of the way, laughing as he slammed into a locker with full force.

"Damn, I would've thought Pandemonium ran into that." You snickered, only to blink as he suddenly turned and tried again, this time having success in tackling you to the floor.

At that point, both of you were in a fierce struggle for the blacklight, leaving scratches and bites on each other's bodies and snarling angrily. You were livid, seeing him bare his sharp teeth--looking no different from those noisy Anglers that liked roaming the halls.

It sure would be a bad time for any of them to pass through.

"Now you're just pissing me off, Solace! You were never this childish before!" You tried keeping the blacklight secured, but even then it was hard using three arms to push back his own.

"Childish? You think I'm....give me a break." He growled back. "I have a business to run. I'm not the one moseying around Squiddle territory!"

"Well maybe if someone didn't release them all at once during the lockdown, I wouldn't have to worry about where they'd pop up! Now let me have this one thing!"

"If I'm gonna get us out of here, I need all the data I can get! And they'll pay a fine price for this!"

"Go find Wall Dweller chunks to sell!! Those expendables you love so much will buy ANY slop from you!"

"HELL NO!! Those are disgusting! Almost as disgusting as your attitude right now! So just..let me...HAVE IT-!!"

With one desperate and final yank, Sebastian severely underestimated how strong his pull was, as the blacklight flung out of his hands, spinning in the air.

Both of you watched in devastation as it sailed towards the closest wall, smacking right into it. You physically cringed at the sound of a loud pop, followed by tiny bits of glass shards landing on the floor and the clattering of what remained of the light.

You just sat there in silence for a few long moments, taking in what just happened and feeling...absolutely horrible.

"....well fuck. Now look what you've--ow.." As Sebastian turned back to scowl at you, he felt a stinging cut on his cheek that you accidentally left "Shit, this burns.." He grumbled, holding his face.

"I think you bit me." You muttered, looking at your hand which had several tiny teeth marks. "You broke through my skin..I'm impressed." Then you glanced at his arm, realizing you tore through his bandage, too.

Guilt washed over you like a tidal wave. "Shit..I'm sorry."

He blinked, seeing your entire mood shift from being absolutely pissed off...to tenderly concerned as you inched closer to him, frowning. "Is..it okay if I see your arm?"

It took him a few seconds to respond, but he nodded and raised the limb, allowing you to examine the injuries closer. "I don't think the wound reopened, but jeez..I'm really about this. I should've been more careful."

"Yeah..um..I probably should'a been, too.." He admitted, a little embarrassed. "We messed up each other pretty good, and for what?"

"..a flashlight that's now useless to us."

Pouting, both of you began to realize how utterly stupid and childish this whole thing was.

Now you were left without a blacklight, regret clouding your minds and achiness in your bones.

"I see a medkit over there." You decided to speak up, pointing to one of the nearby tables. "Let me patch you up as an apology."

"..sure, as long as you let me do the same." He muttered, watching as you slithered over to grab the kit, quickly bringing it back and setting it between the two of you.

For the next ten minutes or so, you sat in silence, tending to each other's wounds with disinfectant and gauze. While you had a slightly higher pain tolerance, Sebastian hissed and winced every time you needed to wipe a cut on his skin with alcohol.

The chemical smells were probably bring him back to the days he was trapped in the labs just like you. But you didn't make any comments on it, instead trying to work as quickly as you can.

You were grateful that he considered you a close friend, as he usually despised being touched by anybody. You've seen it firsthand when some expendables tried climbing onto his tail, with him swatting them off like flies, screaming for them to get off--sometimes brandishing his shotgun in case they didn't get the hint.

"Please tell me you're almost done.."

"I am now." After a few snips, you smiled as you took your hands away, looking down at the new bandage you've put around Sebastian's third arm, putting the scissors back into the kit. "Thank you for trusting me after..um..what happened earlier."

"Yeah, same...that was kinda stupid." He sighed. "I know you can't help wherever those squids show up-"

At that moment, the lights in the room began to flicker.

Not once.

But twice in quick succession.

Both of you looked at each other.

"It's Blitz."

"Blitz is coming."

Sebastian grabbed your arm and dragged you to the furthest corner of the room, out of the path of the shrieking mutated viperfish as he passed through, killing the lights before making his exit. He was like a blur of grey and black smoke, his face barely visible to either of you.

It didn't surprise you that not even Urbanshade's "advanced" CCTV equipment could capture him on film.

You huffed, uncovering your ear fins. "He's too loud sometimes."

"Pssh, I don't think he's loud enough." The other fish remarked, rolling his eyes as you both turned on your angler lights to illuminate the now pitch black room.

Not even a few moments later, you noticed the dark figure of a Squiddle appear nearby, just out of your light's radius. Neither of you were close enough to fully agitate it, but just enough to make it display a frowny face--showing its displeasure.

You looked at Sebastian. "See what I mean?"

"...alright, alright. I guess it's a little ridiculous." He finally admitted.

"A "little"? Try dealing with that on a daily basis."

"I think I'll pass. But I get your point."

[bunny-jpeg]

Can I get a sourdough bread and martini with Lando Norris 😻💞

bakery menu

want to suggest your own order? the bakery is open!! please feel free to check out the options! i do more than just formula one so hit me with it! thank you for this request, this was right after another lando mafia au, haha. i'm glad that people can see the vision of mafia!lando, but this is with a nice little breeding kink! thank you! thank you!

sourdough bread ("i'm going to breed you.") + martini (mafia au) served by lando norris (formula one)!!

cw: smut/pwp, mafia!au, mafia!lando, breeding kink, husband/wife, missionary, pregnancy

you could see your husband's gaze from across the table. it was saturday night and while most were out partying. the two of you were at home, enjoying each other's company.

lando was going to be out of the country for a week and you were to stay at home. he hated leaving you, but sadly you were just too precious to be around such a dangerous situation.

"they'd scoop you right up and if they hurt you, love. there is no hell or heaven that could stop me from getting you back." he said earlier in the meal.

lando norris was the darling son of the mclaren family, while there was still much to learn before he could be the head of the family, he knew whatever may come could be dealt with as long as you were by his side. his darling wife.

he could never get enough of you. loving you was a devouring feeling, something he needed to sink his teeth into. and lately he had a new itch to scratch.

a few weeks back, while at a small get together of the family. lando saw just how good you were with kids. you had a baby cousin on your hip as you got something to eat. it all came naturally and lando almost had to bite his fist.

"do you want this?" you asked the small child at your hip, "let's ask your mama to see if you can have m&m's." you giggled within lando's earshot.

lando sighed through his teeth, this new monster in him was starting to show its ugly head. he earned a pat on the back from oscar who didn't know exactly what lando's deal was. but could only be a supportive 'brother'.

"you gonna be alright?"

"oh yeah." lando said as he shifted in his seat, "perfectly fine." he wasn't making eye contact with oscar, rather watching you talk to the mother of the child you were holding. you were smiling with the child at your hip.

now over dinner, lando was still thinking about it. he got a good eye of your cleavage across the dinner table in the blouse you were wearing that was just a little open to give him a good view.

he swallowed, "you look beautiful." he said, "what's the occasion?"

you looked down at your plate for a moment, "well. we've been married for two years. and well, i've been thinking."

lando stilled for a moment, "it's not a divorce right?" he knew that the risk of the lifestyle he lived could push you away.

you chuckled, "no, no. i made a promise to love you till i die. you're not getting rid of me that easily." you put your fork down, "i want to have a baby with you... i guess in a hotter way of saying it. i want you to breed me, lando norris."

he almost choked on his food, those blue eyes went wide as he swallowed what was in his mouth, "i mean... hell yeah, i will." he flashed you a smile.

you giggled at the sight of him, his reaction made something curl in your gut. despite it all, all the tattoos and scars. the fancy suits and quick thinking, he was still the lovable man you married. you said, "then i guess we'll skip dessert tonight."

being in love with the future of the mclaren family was interesting. you had heard stories about him and his 'brother' oscar, raised together to be the best of the best. the family was better to be headed by two rather than one.

but lando was your precious husband, even without the parade of mafia ties. you remembered when he gave you his umbrella on your first date and let himself get soaked. or when he figured out to make that specific pasta he threw together one night for you. he smelt warm and of home and you never met a man like him.

that was why it was so easy to strip for him in the low light of your shared bedroom. he was seated at the edge of the bed in his briefs as he watched you get out of your clothes. slowly the buttons of the blouse were undone, his eyes grazed the beautiful sight of you.

lando didn't believe in a heaven, but if he did it would be located between your breasts.

you eventually got out of your panties and finally your bra before you got into your husband's lap. your took his face in your hands and kissed at the side of his jaw.

he groaned under your touch, your soft hands on his skin were like worship as you kissed him. he felt so comfortable in your touch, he yearned for it when you were apart.

he loved you.

you straddled his waist and he wrapped his arms around your waist. the tattooed skin was a contrast against your bare skin. the most noticeable tattoo were your initials on the side of thumb on his left hand. when he was stressed he'd rub over the ink and be comforted by thoughts of you.

he kissed you on the lips and the kiss quickly deepened before he laid back on the bed, taking you with him. he continued to kiss you as he rolled you onto your back.

he wanted to look at you while he fucked you. his kisses and fingers trailed down your chest. he cupped your breasts and licked across your nipples. you moaned and felt the heat throb through your body. you looked at your husband and moaned a little bit.

he left a few small red marks across your chest before he got his briefs off. he said softly, "i'm going to breed you. just as you asked. give you that little norris baby you want." he groaned a little as he lined his cock up with your slit. he kissed his tip against your pussy lips.

"you make it sound hotter than i tried to." you chuckled softly and let out a sweet moan as he slowly sank his cock into you. he shuddered at the feeling and you got your arms around his strong neck.

"well, i can't deny my wife anything. if she wants a baby then she'll get it." lando groaned as he really pushed into you. his thrusts were firm, but not rough. he was trying to fuck the daylights out of you.

he wanted to admire his beautiful wife, he held you by the waist and kissed at your chest. his heart thumped in his ears as he moved against you. he started to kiss at your chest once more, he couldn't wait to see your pretty tits get bigger with pregnancy.

"you're gonna give me a pretty kid." he chuckled as he softly bit on your nipple, the feeling made you moan loudly. he groaned, "gonna be a proud mama of my brats." he pushed further into you. he crowded your space as he played with your nipple against his tongue.

you felt the throb of heat in your core. the idea of having a child with lando was erotic. it scratched an itch in the back of your brain. your big stronger protective hubby and you having a kid together.

you didn't want to admit but that idea of your heavily tattooed husband holding your chubby little baby so gently in his arms. it was so adorable that it made you feel heat all over.

"get me pregnant, lando. please, i want to have your baby."

"yeah, you want me to breed you. what a naughty thing to say." he chuckled as he moved against you, "make sure every last drop stays in your pretty pussy. that's where it's meant to be, right? inside of my pretty wife." he groaned.

"yes.' you panted, "fuck, i want you, my love."

"don't worry, ya got me forever, love. i'm not going anywhere. especially now that you want to have a family with me. gotta be there for me girl, and my kid." he chuckled as he moved against you.

the two of you kissed once more. you held onto his shoulders as his lips pressed yours. he still tasted like wine and the pasta you had for dinner. you moaned into his kiss as you felt his grasp on your hips.

"lucky to have you." he said softly, "lucky for all of my life."

he had everything when he was with you. you were everything and more to him. the wife he came home to, the lover he pleased and the girl he continued to fall in love with.

he was such a dangerous man, but with you. he was just so perfect. he loved you with such a devotion that he knew no other woman could take his heart.

he may be the head of a mafia family, but the little norris trio you'd eventually have would be headed by you. his equal, his lover. those who thought the term 'wife' meant less than could kiss the bottom of lando's steel-toed boots.

"i love you, lando. i'm lucky to have you as my husband." you panted.

"not as much as i am lucky to have you as my wife. i never knew that it was possible for a woman to be so beautiful but also make me laugh so much. you're everything i wanted." he purred as he continued to move. his lips on yours once more.

the kiss was sloppy and hot, you felt the thrill of excitement race through you as he moved against you.

you knew you were close, the feel of orgasm felt so strong in your body. you panted when you broke the kiss, but he pulled you in for another. you could feel his warmth around you.

"my girl."

"my lando." you purred. the pleasure was too much, it drove you to finishing.

you clutched onto him and clenched your legs around him. you gave him a wet kiss on his cheek. you climaxed with a loud moan, you tensed up for a moment before you relaxed.

it only spurred him to fuck you even faster. he felt a thrill in his body as he pushed in and out of you. his brain short wired when he gave a few more thrusts before he finished inside of you. he didn't pray often, but he prayed to whoever out there that you'd get pregnant.

if not, you two had a lot of time to have all the fun you needed in making a baby.

"i love you." he said as he laid on top of your for a moment, the weight of him felt good. it was a comforting bulk. you kissed his face softly as he panted on top of you. his cock was softening inside of you, but he wanted more.

"i love you too." your words only made him want you more.

he wanted to feel his wife all over again. make sure that his cum stuck to the inside of you. he wanted to make sure you had his babies asap. he get a small thrust and you once against wrapped your legs around him.

"someone likes that.' he said as he pulled away, he braced his arms on either side of you. he chuckled, "how about i clear my schedule for tomorrow, so we can have all of tonight to ourselves."

you were inclined to accept his offer.

-

you crossed your arms as you rested against the kitchen counter. your husband was making direct eye contact with your belly. you knew that he knew what he did was wrong.

"love, i'm sorry. i couldn't help myself. i know, i'm a horrible husband." he sighed as he dropped his head, "i'm so, so sorry."

you sighed, "lando. we made an agreement. you weren't supposed to do that. c'mon.

beside you on the counter was a small stack of pancakes. you had a craving for banana and chocolate chip pancakes. you had set some aside for lando, but your pesky husband thought that he could try and sneak another off of your plate.

lando was almost to his knees as he approached you and wrapped his arms around you, "i'm sorry my beautiful darling wife."he pouted at you, "no one makes them like you, i couldn't help myself."

you pushed his face away and sighed dramatically. you weren't even that upset, especially when your mafia husband gave you puppy dog eyes. you said with added drama, "your son is going to end up loving me more if you keep this up."

he whined, "no!!!" and pulled you into a tight hug once more. he peppered your face with kisses, "i'll make it up to you, i promise."

you took him by the face and pressed a soft kiss onto his lips, "well, if you go to the store now. you should have enough time to get everything for another batch." you winked at him.

before you had another second to think about it, lando was out the door with his keys in hand. anything for his wife, anything. <3

[oracle-of-dream]

A Quick Walk

Summary: Being an assistant to an idol is hard work. Being an assistant to Wonbin is somehow even more demanding–especially when he's needy...

Notes: Male Reader, Idol!Wonbin, Assistant!Y/N, Blowjob, Deepthroating, Cum Swallowing, Eating Pineapple, Face-fucking, Whimpering Wonbin, Head-Pusher Wonbin

You had too many things to worry about. Press conferences, hair and makeup, TV shows, interviews on radio, and live performances. So many, all in such a short amount of time... But, of course, you weren't the one in front of the camera. You worked behind them.

The set was full of lights, cameras, and wires. People scurried about as they moved to get the filming underway. It was past midnight and you'd finally reached the final shoot of the night. Once it wrapped up, then you could go the hell home.

You waited in a side chair with your phone, sorting through messages. More offers inviting them to more events; which meant more paperwork for you.

The director called, "Can we get the talent on stage, please? The band is ready."

That was your cue. You approached a dressing room, knocking before opening the door. Slowly, the door opened and you were greeted by a handsome form. A man with shiny dark red hair; his outfit was a black tank top, a knit cardigan, and blue jeans. He was set with an in-ear headphone and a microphone that sat just below his pink lips. When his dark eyes locked onto you, he smiled.

You nodded in reply to his smile as you stayed on task. You leaned past him to speak into the room, "It's time boys, let's get this done quickly so we can get you back home."

Six other voices replied, letting you know they'd heard you. Shortly after, 7 men stepped out of the dressing room and made their way onto the set. The director gave directions, the cameras and lights were properly calibrated, and the music was tested one last time before it was finally time to start.

The men stood together in a line, and the red-haired man stepped forward. "Thank you so much for having us. We are," He turned to signal the others to finish the sentence with him. "Riize!"

You went back to your staff chair, with the other assistants. Your job was done for now unless any of the talents needed something. Then it was your job to spring into action to do anything they needed. You've been working as Riize's assistant for only a few months, but the job's been a rollercoaster. Flying for tours and somehow making time to sleep between all the activities. You weren't their manager, you were their personal assistant–meaning you had to work with Riize much closer. There were seven assistants in total, one for each member. All of them had to be male, for scandal prevention. You were assigned to be Wonbin's assistant.

Wonbin was really not much trouble. He rarely tried to burden you with requests. Mostly, he asked for drinks when he was tired. Or, at least that was how it started...

A break was called during the shoot. The members were allowed to step off set and rest, each went to their assistants to ask for treats and water. But Wonbin approached you with an all too familiar look in his eye.

"Assistant y/n!" He cheered as he approached with a smile, his chin lowered so he had to look up toward you.

"Yes, Wonbin? Do you want some water?" He nodded, accepting the water you had prepared for him. Between sips, he kept glancing at you. You tried not to notice, looking at your phone as you swiped aimlessly.

"Y/n, can I have something else?" His voice peaked slightly, indicating a smirk.

You sighed. "Of course. If you need me to get something I can go down the street and pick up a snack."

Wonbin shook his head. "Can you walk with me? I wanna stretch my legs." He stretched his back, with a slight grunt, letting his shirt lift a bit to show his v-line. Clearly dropping hints of what he wanted.

It was about two months into your time with Riize when Wonbin got comfortable enough with you to ask for his favorite thing. Sometimes Wonbin would get anxious, too excited, or just bored. He'd ask you to take a walk with him. It seemed innocent at first.

You nodded slowly. "Sure, let's go for a walk."

Wonbin held a hand out to you. You took it, and he laced his fingers with yours. Now you were locked in, you couldn't turn back unless he wanted you to. And Wonbin would never skip a walk with his personal assistant.

He took you down a long hallway, walking at a quick pace. He was practically dragging you. He found a secluded corner and pulled you in, forcing your back against the wall as he trapped you in.

"I promise, I'll be quick... I need it today or I'll never make it through this shoot." He took your free hand and guided it through his hair as he rubbed into the touch. Wonbin loved the feeling of hands in through his hair–your hands specifically.

"Can I use my hand?"

Wonbin whined, pushing up against you as he put his weight on you. "No~ that's not good enough. I need those plump lips today." His fingers poked at your lips as he leaned toward you.

You turned your head to the side as you pulled yourself together. If you let him seduce you completely, then it would be serious trouble. "No kissing. You promised."

"Kissing is for only when we're not busy," He scoffed. "I remember. I was just thinking about it... How good they'll look wrapped around it. They're always prettiest that way."

You rolled your eyes, but your heart raced. "Let's hurry before someone finds us," You muttered. Shifting Wonbin to stand upright, you slid down as your knees hit the floor. Your eyes were level with his crotch. "And, please... don't finish inside this time. It left a weird taste."

Wonbin looked offended. "I'll have you know, I've been eating pineapple every day!" You ignored him as you unbuttoned his pants and unceremoniously pulled his jeans to his ankles. "W-Woah! No foreplay?"

"No time."

"Are you sure that it's just me wanting this?"

You didn't even bother to look up at him. The shit-eating grin on his face was audible enough. "I'm just being a good assistant. If you prefer, we can stop." You started to stand but Wonbin's hand pushed your shoulder down.

"Okay! I get it. Quick suck then back to work. Please..." The way his voice trembled at the end of his sentence made you weak. The sound of him begging was something that sent butterflies into your stomach. But you couldn't afford to get more involved than you were already. You peeled Wonbin's waistband slowly before sliding down his underwear. His cock, rock hard and excited to see you, twitched as it felt your breath on it. "Please, y/n," Wonbin pleaded softly, his voice laced with desperation.

"You're so high maintenance..." You sighed before taking his length into your mouth.

No matter how often you did this, Wonbin would always get so... into it. He let out a strangled gasp as your warm mouth wrapped around him. The sensation made him shudder as he covered his mouth.

"Ah! Fuck, y/n, you're perfect." He moaned. His fingers tangled in your hair as his fingers flexed, as he struggled to control himself.

You knew the mission was to get the job done fast so you didn't hold back. You took a steadying breath through your nose before pushing yourself to deepthroat him.

Wonbin's whole body tensed as he slid to the back of your throat. He could feel the way it gripped him, flexing tightly before relaxing as you tried not to gag. "Hyung, holy fuck! Wait–you're so good!" He groaned as he almost buckled over. His other hand found its way to your head, slightly pushing you. His hips jerked as he shook. You knew he started fidgeting once he was close. He also loved calling you hyung in moments like these. "P-Please, just a little slower..." He begged his words loosely dripping from his mouth.

You pulled away to breathe and allow him a chance to compose himself. "You wanna do it?" Wonbin's eyes shook. He couldn't refuse if you were offering, but he knew he couldn't last long if he did...

"Of course, I wanna." His fingers tensed as he pulled your hair, moving you back to his cock. Wonbin's eyes rolled lazily as his hips moved with a desperate speed. You didn't offer to let him control you often–he'd never let this chance pass him. "Fuck, Hyung, you're so tight!" He grunted, and his pace faltered as he tried to hold it. Each stroke was wet heaven as he watched his cock disappear into your mouth. The fatal blow–when you looked up at him, made him lose it. The idol's vision started to tunnel as he focused on your sweet face looking at his. He felt your tongue working over him, the gentle suckles and swirls that you added. It was too much!

His orgasm snuck up on him. It crashed over him mid-thrust. He grunted as his mouth fell open. Instinctively, he pulled up into him, forcing you to take him completely. He bent over, his chest slightly brushing the back of your head as he came. He spilled load after load of hot cum directly into your mouth.

"I'm sorry! S-Sorry! I'm sorry! I can't let go–" His voice was a whisper in your ears, "P-please, swallow. I'm sorry!" It was a storm of pleasure that wracked over his body, as he rode out the aftershocks. He could feel you swallowing around him, milking his dick for every drop, which only made him jerk even more. Finally, once the tremors finished, he slowly let you go.

You pulled away, wiped a tear out of your eye, and put Wonbin back together–packing his cock into his underwear and pulling up his pants. "Good call on the pineapple by the way," You whispered as you guided him back to the set. Filming was just about to start but Wonbin had to see hair and make-up again to get retouched.

You sat back with the other assistants who looked at you with puzzled looks.

"Did you two go for a run or something? Why does he look like that?" One asked.

"The only thing that kid could run is his mouth..." You groaned as you slumped into your chair. You watched him closely as he walked back to the stage.

He noticed you and mouthed an apology to you one last time.

You'd have to get even with him later...

[violentdelightsandviolentends]

The Look of Love.

Synopsis - You, Buck and Eddie are absolutely, undeniably, head over heels in love with each other. It seems like everyone can see it except for the three of you.

Pairing - Evan Buckley x Female Reader x Eddie Diaz

Warnings - none!! just idiots in love.

Word Count - 1k

Author's Note - oh my buddie heart was bursting while writing this. whenever I watch 911, I always think about how easy it'd be to be friends (or more than) with eddie and buck. and then this was born!! hope you enjoy reading this sweetness as much as I enjoyed writing it <3

as always, reblogs, comments and feedback (even anonymous feedback!!) are immensely appreciated!! your reblogs are the only way to circulate my fics, which keeps me going <3

Masterlist. Inbox.

Buck twirls you around, strong arms circling your waist. Your feet don't touch the ground as he spins you, the skirt of your dress billowing in the breeze. You lean back in his hold, and catch sight of Eddie throwing Christopher up in the air, both of them laughing.

Buck puts you down and grins at you, Cheshire cat smile bright and blinding. You smooth your hands across his chest, flattening out his crisp white dress shirt where you've crinkled it. You tug at his bow tie, straightening it gently. Your gaze meets his, and you beam at him.

"Have I told you how handsome you look tonight, Evan Buckley?" you tease, wrapping your arms around his neck to sway with him. There's a smooth, jazzy melody echoing through the huge backyard, illuminated by golden, twinkling lights.

He quirks a brow at you cheekily before answering.

"I wouldn't mind hearing it again."

"I'm sure you wouldn't," you laugh, shrieking as he dips you backwards quickly.

"Well, you look very handsome. I like you in a tux."

You swear you see him blush slightly, heat creeping across his cheeks. He finds his confidence again, sliding his hands across the exposed skin of your back slowly.

"You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen," he tells you sincerely, eyes never leaving yours. "I should tell you that more often."

"Yes, you should," you tease, grinning at him.

You take notice of his smile, his relaxed shoulders, the way he's swaying with you effortlessly.

"You love weddings, don't you?"

"Hell yeah I do!" he replies delightedly. "Everyone I love all in one place, dancing, music... what more could you want?"

You can't wipe the smile off your face. He's right. The entire 118 is here, together as a family. Everyone is happy, excited to be celebrating Bobby and Athena's vow renewal. It's not often you all get to leave work at work and enjoy yourselves completely. You plan to make the most of every single second.

You feel two warm hands find your hips from behind, instantly leaning back into the broad chest behind you, knowing who it is immediately.

"Hola, Mr Diaz."

"Hola, hermosa."

"You gonna keep her all to yourself all night, Buckley?" he asks, wrapping his arms around you, over the top of where Bucks are already resting. You're sandwiched between the two of them, completely content.

"We were avoiding you and your terrible dance moves," Buck jokes, the three of you swaying together now.

"Are you hearing this?" Eddie asks incredulously, chuckling into your ear. "My terrible dance moves?"

"Don't listen to him, Eds. His ego lies to him."

"It's called confidence! Sorry if I have faith in my dance moves!"

The three of you laugh, bodies and souls tangled and intertwined on the dance floor.

Across the backyard, Chimney and Hen are sat at their table, watching you, Buck and Eddie move to the music, arms wrapped around one another.

"They really love each other, don't they?"

"Oh, yeah," Hen laughs. "Wish they'd all just admit it."

Chimney looks at his best friend in confusion, brows quirked and face crumpled.

"... What?"

"Oh, come on, Chim," Hen chuckles. "It's twenty twenty three. Get with the program."

"You mean, like, love love," Chim confirms, still puzzled.

"Yes, Howie. Love love. In love. The three of them are completely in love."

Chimney processes for a moment, before a light bulb goes off in his head.

"Oh, shit!" he laughs. "They totally are!"

"Damn, men are oblivious. How am I the only one that's noticed?"

"You aren't," Bobby and Athena say in unison, pulling out chairs to sit at the table.

"But we can't rush them. Good things like this take time," Athena offers.

Bobby glances over at the dance floor. You're holding Buck and Eddie's hands, and Chris is too, the four of you dancing and laughing. He smiles for moment, before speaking.

"You know they basically live together?"

When he's met with confused faces, he continues.

"They all crash at Eddie's place with Christopher so often, they've practically moved in. Buck hasn't slept in his own apartment in months."

"I mean, how do you even... navigate something like that? The three of them? It's so complicated," Chimney asks genuinely.

"They'll figure it out," Bobby assures. "They always do."

With that, he rises from his chair and across the yard. He scoops Christopher up into his arms, promising him cake and soda, much to Eddie's dismay. He winks at Buck before carrying Chris away, leaving the three of you alone.

Eddie surprises you by grabbing your hand and then Bucks, pulling you both away from the crowd.

"Come on. I wanna show you something."

He leads you up and into the guest bathroom of the house, rolling his eyes at you and Bucks suggestive comments. He's first to climb out the window and onto the roof, making sure you get through safely in your dress.

The three of you sit and watch your friends in the yard below, quietly reflecting. You're suddenly aware of the way you're sandwiched in between them again, thighs pressed together. You lean left and rest your head on Eddie's shoulder, interlinking your right hand with Bucks.

"How lucky am I?" you breathe. "To be surrounded by so much love."

Eddie rests his head atop of yours, smiling as he watches Buck lean in to rest his on your shoulder. The three of you exhale.

"We're the lucky ones," Buck murmurs. "I never thought I'd have this."

"Well you do," Eddie reassures. "And we're not going anywhere, Buckley."

"He's right, Buck. We're not going anywhere. Ever."

Evan sits up to kiss you on the cheek, before leaning over you and doing the same to Eddie.

The three of you sit on the roof, bodies and souls intertwined, illuminated by the moonlight. How lucky you are, to be surrounded by so much love.

[cregansdingdong]

dingdong hear me out, cregan and reader going through the honeymoon stage of their marriage in winterfell where he just cant get off her and they get it on (she gets on should i say 😜) EVERYWHERE and ANYWHERE. im talking in the stables just out of earshot of the lords in the courtyard, in the wolfswood surrounded by the beautiful northern countryside, in the council chambers, on the table, EVERYWHERE. I KNOW this man gets hot knowing anyone could catch them and that they couldn’t do anything about it because he is their lord. PLEASE GIVE THE PEOPLE WHAT THEY WANT 🙏🙏🙏🙏🙏

- fellow cregan worshipping anon xo

I HAVE THOUGHTS. THE GEARS ARE TURNING. I FEEL THEM TURNING. SEND HELP ANON.

Let's get something perfectly clear, my beloved, the honeymoon stage never ends with Cregan. Now, it might slow down after the birth of a few kiddos ten but in no way, shape, or form will your Lord Wolf ever be satisfied. That being said, you have my prayers, sorrows, and congratulations also my envy ofc if you both are ever caught getting your freak on. It's gonna go a little something like this...

ʜᴏɴᴇʏᴍᴏᴏɴ. (thoughts ver.)

NSFW stuff under the cut. 18+ only. I'm not responsible for the content you choose to consume. ty.

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

"We're going to—"

"I don't care." He grunts. Skirts lifted up the curve of her ass, his hips rutting into her at a pace desperate enough to bruise. They were both frantic, fucking like it was their last day alive. The council room was empty—which it usually was; only really filled when Cregan felt the need to call on his vassals. If it had been a regular day, Lord and Lady Stark wouldn't have had anything to worry about.

His wife presses her cheek down on the table, holding onto the oak edges for dear life, mewling of course, as he rocked into her like a man possessed. Controlled entirely by his need, by her whines for him, Cregan thought he could die a happy man right there in her snug cunt. He could. He wanted to, in a way, the last sensations in the living world being her velvety walls, clenching around him with every swift thrust.

They were loud as they always were—unintentionally. It was too good to remember any restraint. Not that it mattered to the Lord Wolf, he was the Lord paramount of the North. Who was going to tell him he couldn't make love with his wife? No one, but he could at least make an effort to lock the door first. Rabid grunts and the sound of his hefty balls slapping against her flooded the corridor as the entrance to the council room was opened. "Seven Hells—"

His bannermen. His vassals. The meeting. Gods. He forgot about the meeting. Torrhen Manderly turned right back around, narrowly avoiding whatever it was that Cregan flung towards the door—thankfully fast enough to stop the other men from following in after him. "Get out!" The door was promptly slammed shut, right as his wife lifted her head from the table, face flushed red in mortification. "Were we just cau—fuck!" Lord Stark still didn't care, reaching around to rub at her pretty clit as his cock resumed pistoning against her ass. And as she came for at least the third time that morning, the realization of getting caught was quickly erased from the front of her mind, Cregan's teeth latching on to the curve of her shoulder as he chased his release.

okay I can't help myself so here's a bonus bit:

Redressed and thoroughly embarrassed some twenty minutes later, Lady Stark emerges from the council room, expecting her handmaiden to be waiting—no. Gods. They'd waited. They'd actually waited. Seven bannermen, each one avoiding her eye more than the last, probably in an attempt to maintain whatever was left of her dignity. They made not a single sound as she walked sprinted by, nodding stiffly in respect to their Lady.

Cregan, however, did not share that same sentiment. Satisfied for the moment, smug, and seated lazily at the head of the table, legs spread comfortably as he sat back against his chair. He exhaled quietly through his nose once his vassals entered the room, the smallest of smirks written on his face that said more than his mouth ever could. "Where did we leave off last time?"

₊˚ ‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵୨୧ · · ♡ · · ୨୧‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵‿︵ ˚₊

[starlightkyo]

𝐏𝐎𝐏𝐔𝐋𝐀𝐑

𝑺𝒊𝒏𝒈𝒆𝒓𝑶𝒄! 𝒙 𝑹𝒂𝒑𝒑𝒆𝒓𝑶𝒏𝒚!

18+ MDNI | some plot, smut, o*al (f + m receiving), unprotected p-n-v,, b*ckshots, s*uirting, c*reaming.

She knew better than to fuck with someone like him. He was everything she didn't need in her simplistic life, yet his allure enticed her anyway.

Tall, darkskin, locs, pretty face, pretty smile.

Toxic too, but anyways.

They collaborated on a track for her newly released album, per her request. They even shared the studio where she witnessed part of his persona.

The 'mysterious' aura he exuded. Barely uttering a word the few hours they spent together. Barely even making eye contact.

The vibe of the studio session was awkward, at least to Ramona. But she summed the lack of interaction up to Ony probably being introverted or shy.

The next time they'd see each other was for the 'Video Vixen' mv shoot. He came in quiet and remained that way while following instructions.

They only had one scene together, filming it with limited verbal exchange. Only a smile here and some display of gratitude there when the shoot wrapped up.

Ramona knew it was just business, but a part of her wanted it to be more.

He piqued her interest without even trying.

She wanted to get in his head, and maybe his pants that hung below the round of his black briefs.

And normally sagging turned her off.

He did his part as a creative, so he had no reason to initiate post conversation. But he did just before he left the set. Much to her surprise.

It was small talk with some insight as they stood before one another. She got to hear the southern drawl in his voice as he murmured.

"Y'know i'm shy as fuck, so ion really be—" his hands motioned as she caught his drift.

"You shy?" her brows raised; a slight head tilt of curiosity he found endearing.

His smile peaked, lips parted just enough that she could see his grillz.

"Yea, I really just keep to myself forreal."

They spent more time than intended talking, afterwards they exchanged numbers with the hopes of meeting up. What Ramona didn't except is to be flown out by Ony to visit him.

One minute they were texting, then talking otp, then she was boarding a plane with the destination of Atlanta from Cali.

It happened so fast, just days after the mv shoot.

Now here she lay in his California king bed with him atop, kissing her exposed stomach. His lips planted to her skin repeatedly, exciting her surface nerves as she squirmed slightly. Her giggles were soft as they filled the air.

"St—stoppp, i'm ticklish," her hand gently palmed his face back. The slip of his tongue was subtle, but deliberate. He chuckled.

They were chillin' in his master bedroom, doing nothing in particular. Conversation was flowing a lot smoother, and Ony was showing a lot more of his personality.

Made him even finer if possible.

"Yo skin soft as hell shawty."

Her heat throbbed in response, teeth piercing her bottom lip.

A shared attraction was apparent, and the sexual tension was palpable, practically smothered them.

For Ramona's standards, she was moving entirely too fast. But something about Ony made her throw caution to the wind and let go.

"Whachu lookin at me like dat fa?"

More giggles seeped out as her chest rumbled. She covered her face that flushed warm from embarrassment.

"Onyyyy" she whined, making his dick jump. The sound was sweet and pleasant. So was the smile she revealed, her plump lips curved upward.

"Pretty ahh." He kept the compliments coming while showing all 32 teeth.

"You too" she cupped the side of his face, fingers stroking the course beard on his chin.

A comfortable silence fell over the room as they admired each other through hooded eyes.

"Can I eat it?"

She sucked her teeth, "boy—" her face fell before she rolled her eyes.

"Forreal shawty" his tone lifted desperately.

He needed her bad. Boy would damn near plead for it.

"Is that why you flew me out here?" she propped up on her elbows. Her playful tone held an edge.

She figured they would fuck, she just wanted to tease him first.

"Nah, i'on think you easy or nun—"

"Are you hard?" she abruptly asked. Confusion flashed across his face at her bluntness, but he answered truthfully.

"Hell yea, got a muhfucka brick right now."

"Then that's means your the easy one" Ramona quipped.

"Shit, i'a be dat," he had no shame admitting.

She smirked "oh really?"

"Really" he leaned in and smashed their lips together. The kiss was surprisingly sensual, as if they'd had history longer than a few weeks. They shared a familiar rhythm to be relatively strangers.

Their lips clashed methodically, smacking together. She moaned into his mouth, and he took that opportunity to shove his tongue in hers. Their tongues danced a bit before he broke away to attack her neck.

She whimpered as he targeted her sensitive area, lips suctioning around her skin while she held his head in place. The wetness of his tongue dragged lazily along her neck.

"Mmph—" she closed her eyes and relished in his possession. Content, she sighed.

She could feel her panties soaked, and her thighs pressed together. The ache between them was intense.

"O-ony.."

"Wassuh? Talk ta me" the flavor in his voice sent a thrill up her spine. She inhaled his expensive scent putting her under a spell.

"Eat it.. please" she begged breathlessly. He loved how needy she sounded.

He moved down to her shorts, her hips eagerly rose as his fingers slid them and her thong off her legs. She then spread as wide as possible, showcasing her moistened cunt.

He licked his lips at the sight, "damn, you wet fa me already?"

Ony then lowered his head, mouth inching closer and closer to Ramona's pussy. His hooded eyes stayed on her the entire time as his tongue rolled out, licking a stripe along her slit.

She gasped at the sensation, mink lashes fluttering in response.

Her arousal flooded his tongue as he began to lap away at her pussy. He french-kissed it, slurping up her juices. The lewd sounds blended with her airy moans that filled the room.

Ramona was floating on cloud 9, her soul being transported to the heavens by this mans blessed skills.

So damn blessed. She hadn't been eaten like this in ages.

The thickness of her mahogany thighs quivered under his grip, as her throaty hums escaped.

She struggled to stay still, to maintain eye contact. Her body writhed under his possession, especially when her clit was being stimulated.

His chuckle vibrated against her flesh, amused at her undoing. He kept up his oral assault, ravaging her pussy with an appetite.

"Uhn!─" her breath hitched, back arching off the bed as her eyes shut. "Fuuuck!"

She can't estimate how long he ate her out, it felt like forever. His lips remained attached to her folds for a while. Her juices ran down his chin and onto his goatee. She'd already come once and was approaching her second orgasm.

"Shiiiit" she cried, face fixed in a permanent pout.

Ony upped the stimulation by sliding a long slender finger in her pussy, she gasped at the introduction before feeling another one.

Two digits pumped inside her wetness with haste as her angelic moans bounced off the walls. She gripped the back of her knees for support.

It didn't take long for her walls to convulse around his digits. That pit in her stomach was deepening. Her core tightening.

And he had the nerve to suck on her clit simultaneously.

"Uuuhn! God!"" she couldn't hold back anymore. Her wetness spurted between his fingers still pumping. She released a guttural cry up to the ceiling.

Ony unplugged his fingers, rapidly rubbing her pussy that kept squirting. He stuck his tongue out and caught whatever droplets landed on his tastebuds.

She drenched her inner thighs squirting nonstop like a sprinkler.

Ony was amazed at how much he could coax out of her.

"Shit" he hissed, "pussy wet as hell."

His fingers smeared her essence across her lips before sliding into her mouth. She hummed as she sucked them clean, tasting herself.

"Freak ahh" Ony chuckled.

Ramona smiled lackadaisically.

She watched in bliss as he got off the bed and unclothed. Every piece discarded on the rug until he was naked.

Her cunt throbbed at the sight of his erect dick- sizable with a nice length.

"C'mere" he beckoned her.

Ramona took her shirt off, revealing she wasn't wearing a bra. Her breasts were c cups, with big areoles and perky nipples.

She got off the bed and approached Ony before dropping to her knees. Her fingers grasped the weight of his flesh, wrapping her plump lips around his mushroom tip.

"Suck dat shit baby."

Her eyes batted up at him innocently, as she bobbed her head back and forth. Her hand stroked what couldn't fit down her throat.

His breathing was labored. His fingers tangled in her hair, clutching tight.

"Look so pretty like dis" he whispered, admiring Ramona with a mouthful.

She made a gawking noise every time his dickhead met her uvula. Her cheeks hollowed as she sucked his skin.

She wasn't the most skilled but judging by his reaction she was doing good enough.

"Move yo hand baby."

She did as told. Ony's hands guided her movements as he fucked her face. Her nose was gracing his pelvis, dick clogging her throat.

Ramona's watery eyes batted up at him, seeing his eyes closed and mouth agape.

His grunts and groans filled the room as he twitched between her stuffed cheeks. He abruptly ripped her head back, letting his dick slip out before he nutted. Ony speedily cranked his tip as his semen spurted out onto Ramona's face.

"Aah, sss─aah."

Ony didn't stop stroking until he was completely emptied, finally halting.

Ramona erupted in giggles, licking her lips and tasting his nut. This was her first time getting a facial.

Little did she know, Ony would be her first time for a lot of things.

"Lemme wipe yo face, hollon" he said before making his way to the bathroom.

She rose to her feet and sat at the end of his bed, feeling rug burn in her knees.

It was worth it though.

Ony came out with a warm rag he used to clean her face as he held it. She was humored for some reason, chuckling.

"What?" he asked, chuckling too.

She shrugged cutely, "nothing...it's just- I've never had a man cum on my face before."

"I'm turnin you out" he joked, making her laugh.

He tossed the rag on the floor, "face down ass up" he motioned for her to reposition on the bed.

She hesitated, "wait..you have condoms?"

"I'mma pull out."

"Ony" her brows furrowed. She knew better than to play that game.

"I promise, put dat on my life...c'mon" he urged her.

She huffed, rolling her eyes as she got into position anyway. Her face was against the sheets with her ass heightened and back arched.

"Muhfucka fat" he admired her ass from behind. He smacked it sharply, earning a hiss from Ramona. His hands manipulated her ass, spreading her cheeks apart, making them jiggle.

She whined impatiently, "ony put it innn."

He laughed, "I gotchu baby."

He held his tip and lined it up at her entrance, prodding before sliding in. She moaned at the stretch of her walls as he buried himself to the hilt.

"Tight ahh pussy."

He gripped her ass, thrusting slowly to start off. Creating a torturous friction with every stroke of his flesh inside hers. The roll of his hips was calculated, with precise aim for her g spot.

It was something about Ramona that made him wanna take his time and not rush like he would with other women.

"Mmm, mmm."

Ramona hummed erotically, fisting the sheets. He felt so good inside of her, like he belonged there.

"Fu-uuck" she shakily cursed under her breath as he picked up the pace.

Ony was barely pulling out, ramming into her pussy. His balls slapped against her sensitive clit.

He gazed at her ass bouncing against his pelvis. The way her flesh rippled like waves was mesmerizing.

Ony was beating Ramona's pussy in as her moans grew louder and frantic, bouncing off the walls. Her lips couldn't even meet to formulate words.

"You takin dat dick like a pro" he praised.

"H-harder!" she choked out.

"Bet not run" he warned before pounding her relentlessly. Her body jerked from the acceleration in his thrusts.

Her mangled screams could probably be heard from outside.

"FUCK YES! FUCK YES!"

"RIGHT THERE DADDY!"

"UUHN! UUUHN!"

Expletives and praises flew from her mouth wildly.

She stroked his massive ego, urging him to fuck her as hard as he could, to the point where he was groaning. His bottom lip slipped between his teeth to trap the sound.

Ony was in control yet vulnerable at the same time.

He twitched within her gummy walls, threatening to release.

He promised he wouldn't, but it was so tempting, he didn't wanna pull out even for a second.

"Shit!─"

He grunted, twitching again. Left with no choice he quickly ripped out of her as she whimpered. He jerked off, head bent back, groaning as he nutted on her lower back.

"Fuuuck" his tight grip milked slower and slower until there was nothing left. His hand then dropped to his side.

Ramona's chest heaved, winded as she looked back at him. She giggled at his exhausted expression.

"Oh you laughin at me? I'mma see if you gon be laughin when I wea yo ahh out. Flip ova."

His palm roughly met her ass cheek again as she moaned, twerking for him.

This was no where near done. and tonight wouldn't be the last time they saw each other.

[kumkaniudaku]

Midterm

Summary: When Asia's in need of a few lessons regarding matters of the bedroom, her colleague and friend, Kelvin, offers his expertise.

Pairing: Kelvin Harrison Jr. x Black!OC

Warnings: Mature Content (18+)

Word Count: 6k

MASTERLIST

Reading a congratulatory email with kind words and instructions to sign a lucrative offer was easy. Simply slip out of your third boring morning meeting, disappear into the surprisingly vacant courtyard, and spend no less than 30 minutes oscillating between excitement and sheer panic while clicking through pages of contracts to add your digital signature to an encrypted document. Kelvin followed the plan to the letter and then some. 

The hard part was stifling the urge to scream at the birds and trees during peak business hours. 

Voice low and eyes shifting in search of potential eavesdroppers, he sat in pensive silence to contemplate the gravity of his decision. In a little over a month, he'd be a Chicago resident. He'd wake up in his Chicago apartment, walk the Chicago streets, pass by Chicagoans on the way to his Chicago office, and then grab dinner ingredients at a Chicago grocery store. His license would change. Mail would need a new forwarding address. Updated voter registration, new doctors, a change in insurance, learning a transit system; change after change both excited and unnerved Kelvin all at once.

Part of him wanted to barge into his Head of Creative's office and slam his resignation on the table before clicking his heels together on the way out the door. Fuck this job. New and greener pastures were on the horizon! The other part, the terrified part of him that'd been worried sick since Saturday morning, couldn't even say the words out loud for fear that the wooden benches would absorb and tell his secret before he'd had time to craft poetic, well-thought-out lines. 

In his mind, Kelvin thought he'd managed to maintain an impenetrable poker face. To a stranger or work acquaintance unschooled in Kelvin-ology, he could come across as convincing enough to overlook. For Asia, watching him from the communal kitchen, worry causing his knee to bounce in triple time told a different story. 

"You know you can just go out there and talk to him, right?" Savannah's sarcastic introduction to an otherwise quiet moment cut through Asia's brain fog enough to garner attention as she shifted her weight from one side to the other. "I'm joking," Savannah laughed, trying to ease the tension between them. Asia's quick glance at the back of Kelvin's head provided the final number of a winning lottery sequence. "Wow, you really like him. Like, you two are a couple! I knew it." 

Asia tried to remain casual as she crossed her arms and shrugged. "What are you talking about? Kel is my work friend." 

"Must be a hell of a work friend for you to spend the night from his place. I noticed the cabinets, but I couldn't confirm until later that day when Kelvin took a meeting from the same place." 

Savannah's cheeky grin sparked fear in Asia's heart. Widening her eyes, she craned her neck to see who may have heard her business in the area.

She leaned closer, keeping her voice low as she spoke. "You can't say that out loud," she cautioned. "We're being discreet!" 

"Love you so much, Asia, but literally everyone knows."

"Everyone like who?" 

"Asia," Savannah reiterated. "Every. One. The main crew has a group chat and everything. You just won me $20 bee-tee-dubbs. I'll share, promise."

Panic should've set in for Asia. Maybe dread and a tinge of fear. They'd broken another rule and crossed another carefully considered boundary in the pursuit of each other. Asia should've been nervous about how their not-so-secret pining had run through the office rumor mill and what it might mean for perceptions of her professionalism as one of the few Black women in the building. But relief was the only emotion worth exploring in the immediate aftermath of Savannah's revelation. 

No more hiding. No more planning entrances five minutes apart or driving separate vehicles in busy morning traffic when one would suffice. They could share dinner leftovers during lunch and stop sneaking quiet giggles at jokes shared via text. No more hiding. 

Relief helped Asia slowly release the extra air tightening her lungs and expanding her chest. She nodded at nothing in particular. "I expect my cut in all ones. It's for our strip club fund." 

"Oooh, spicy," Savannah sang, stepping closer to speak in a hushed whisper. "So… how's it going with you two? How different is personal time Kelvin from work Kelvin?" 

"Uh, I mean, you know. He's…you know." 

Any sense of calm that offered a reprieve from an onslaught of complicated feelings was quickly replaced by the need to run out of the room and vomit. Knowing was one thing. Asking questions and wanting the scoop on something Asia deemed sacred and untouchable in conversation beyond what she chose to share was different. 

Words sputtered from her lips as she tried to offer an explanation vague enough to get Savannah off her ass. The quiet roar of glass panes sliding on a metal track clipped Asia's start-and-stop sentence, turning all attention to Kelvin as he stepped in, looking like he'd just had his heart ripped in two and was trying but failing to keep his emotions intact. Savannah didn't seem to notice when she flagged him over. Asia couldn't take her eyes off his frown and sullen expression. Kelvin knew his face had betrayed him as soon as he was close enough for a thorough look at the questions knitting Asia's brows together. 

Trying to play it cool, he swiftly pulled his hand out of his pocket and offered a wave to both ladies. "What's up?" A greeting he'd used a million times suddenly sounded bizarre. First mistake. 

"Hiii!" Savannah's severe lack of subtly pulled a reluctant laugh from Kelvin before he shifted his gaze to focus on Asia. 

"Asia. You good?" 

She smiled and nodded. "Yeah, I'm good. What about you? You good?" 

"I'm good now, yeah." 

Anxieties feasting on his mind momentarily paused in reverence for Asia's presence. A true breath of fresh air. One he'd fight tooth and nail to keep in his life, distance be damned. 

Savannah stood between the pair and their smitten grins, looking back and forth to see who'd make the first move. "This is just the cutest shit ever. I can't take it." Googly eyes slowly turned into blank stares aimed in her direction. Hint taken. "No, you're so right. I should get out of here. Asia, remember to put the thing on the slide at some point. In the one deck."

"Bye, Savannah!" Kelvin and Asia watched Savannah awkwardly scurry off to do only God knows what until they were safely alone. 

Without a buffer to fill in the gaps, all the nausea-inducing worry from the morning's events came flooding back for Kelvin in another crushing wave. Had he been thinking straight, he would've opted to save such delicate news for the privacy of his living room when all the thoughts sitting jumbled like Soul Train board letters were sorted into the proper place. Unfortunately, life-changing information sure to shake the still-wet foundation on which they'd built their relationship ran off with his rationale long ago. 

Kelvin opened his mouth to speak, then closed it when words didn't come out. He tried again. Then, one more time before finally forcing, "I have…something to tell you," into the atmosphere. 

Asia tilted her head in curiosity. "So do I. Is yours good news or bad news?" 

"Doesn't matter," he answered, trying to smile through the rapid thudding in his ears. "You go first." 

Don't press, Asia. Resist! An inner monologue determined to usher Asia away from the sins of her past forced back 101 questions to make way for her surprise. "You know how the Moët client is looking for new artists for that summer series activation?" Kelvin nodded, vaguely remembering project details he'd contributed to in a past life. Asia reached into her back pocket to showcase two laminated passes on lanyards. "I convinced Chris and Sid to give me their passes so we could pull up. Now, we don't have to go all the way to Australia to see RINI. Fun, right?" 

Kelvin recognized the big reveal as something he should be excited about. And, had present circumstances not reared its ugly head, he'd have no trouble sharing Asia's toothy grin and silly dance. He tried to fight the heavy haze clouding his day by raising his hand for a high five and flashing a vacant smile. "That's great, baby. I'm excited. Really." 

So much for honesty.

Asia couldn't hide her skepticism, pushing her eyebrows high, and Kelvin couldn't hide his discomfort, which made him fidget with the contents of his front pockets.  

"Yeah," Asia answered, disappointment in his half-assed reaction instantly stealing the light in her eyes and turning her bright smile into a shell of itself. "Um, what was your news? Anything good?" 

Tact was never Kelvin's strong point. Breakups over text and ghosting were more his speed, no matter how much he hated that fact about himself. What everyone else saw as sleazeball behavior reserved for fuckboys deserving of eternal banishment to hell, he saw as protecting feelings. 

Promises were promises, and Asia was worth more than slipping back into bad habits. Kelvin had to rip the band-aid and deal with the residual blood later. "Remember the Chicago job?" he asked, wringing his hands.

Oh no. Intuition and a random tarot reader told Asia to be on the lookout for roadblocks, but, dammit, she thought that meant traffic on the interstate or an annoying client ask, not the nagging tug of the Midwest. 

"Yeah," she answered cautiously. 

Kelvin adjusted the hydrant-red beanie on his head and sighed. Rip. The. Band-Aid. "They…called me back with all my negotiation demands met. And…”

"You took the job." 

Patience was never Asia's virtue. Why beat around the bush when they could lay all the bad shit on the table and try to salvage a few pieces good enough to keep for fond memories later? 

"Yeah." The finished sentence turned an abstract concept into reality, weighing so heavily on him that he found looking Asia in the eye and lifting his head too difficult. He repeated after her in a low, measured voice, "I took the job." 

Suddenly, Asia couldn't help but hyper-fixate on her surroundings. The low hum of two French door refrigerators holding employee lunches was annoying. It always had been, but today, it sounded like an army of flies buzzing around the mess Kelvin's news had created. Distant laughter made her nostrils flare. How dare someone find joy in a time like this? The kitchen was too big and too open to contain the grief rising within her. Then, the stupid ping of notifications on Kelvin's phone threatened to blow her gasket. The stimuli converged simultaneously, bringing fresh tears to prickle at her waterline. 

Asia forced them all back while Kelvin waited for her to say something to prove she didn't hate him. She extended a closed fist in his direction to match a closed-mouth smile. "Congratulations, Kel. I'm so proud of you. If we were somewhere else, I'd hug you." 

"Hug me to sneak in for a choke or a real hug?" 

"A real one," Asia chuckled, the sound of it returning to her stilted and lacking the mirth she intended. "I know you're bored here. You gotta do what you gotta do, right?" 

Past all the hurt feelings and rage bubbling in her chest, Asia couldn't allow herself to stomp out Kelvin's fire with negativity. She'd save that for a tearful phone call with Sabrina or a good cry in the shower. Kelvin needed reassurance that he'd made the right decision, not the moaning and wailing she had planned for a moment alone. 

"Yeah…" Kelvin paused to scan Asia's face for any sign of an impending adverse reaction but found none before he answered. Nothing. Not a shred of any identifiable emotion presented itself to Kelvin. Anxiety gripped him again. "Asia, don't shut me out. I know you have questions and fuckin' feelings. C'mon. Don't leave me out here by myself." 

"Not here." An almost undetectable waver in her voice was enough to shatter Kelvin's heart into a million pieces. He watched her blink back tears to speak again. "Can we just be happy, please? For a little longer?" 

He sighed, accepting defeat. "Okay." A mental reminder to add 'needs a moment before tough conversations' to his running list of things to know about Asia ran through his brain like neon letters on a marquee. 

His index and middle fingers brushed across his puckered lips, collecting affection he quickly passed on to Asia. She kissed the spot his lips once occupied as a silent promise to revisit the subject when heightened emotions had time to return to baseline. 

"You hungry? My treat." 

An olive branch. Collective ease passed between them once Kelvin flashed a toothy grin at Asia and gestured ahead of him toward the courtyard doors. "After you."

What Kelvin couldn't have in her raw, unfiltered thoughts, he was more than happy to gain in a spare moment of mindless chatter over sushi a block away. 

Something was better than nothing. 

If left up to Asia, Chicago and all its complications would disappear because of her commitment to ignoring them.

City sounds and radio chatter on Saturday evening had spent more time filling silent gaps of conversation than Kelvin and Asia had for two straight days. The elephant in the room quickly became the elephant at the dinner table late Thursday night when Asia side-stepped the topic to discuss Married at First Sight instead, the elephant in the bedroom when the thought of Chicago kept her mind wandering too much to enjoy Kelvin feasting between her legs, and the elephant in the backseat while she pretended not to notice her boyfriend stealing glances at the red light.

Given the chance, Asia could avoid broaching the topic for weeks. Kelvin, on the other hand, couldn't ignore issues festering into resentment day by day. Before long, he'd carefully label boxes and precious belongings to ship to their new home. Being on the brink of drastic change without a resolution wasn't an option.

Standstill traffic and a small car accident separating them from their destination provided the perfect opportunity to catch Asia in close quarters and force the issue. Kelvin took a deep breath and slowly turned the volume down on one of Tyler the Creators' piano-heavy tracks, earning a confused side-eye for his behavior. 

"Everything okay," Asia asked, shifting her body towards Kelvin so he could feel the full weight of her annoyance. 

He shrugged. "You tell me, Asia. I'm not the one tiptoeing around some really important shit right now. Is everything okay?" 

"Kelvin, not right now. We can talk about it when we get back tonight." 

Arms crossed at her chest, and a deep frown sent Asia retreating into herself, frustrating Kelvin to the point of no return. When he imagined the first roadblock in their relationship, hogging the covers or choosing the thermostat's temperature came to mind. He expected little hurdles to make room for the big stuff. The relationship-altering, make-or-break whammies either strengthened a couple or sent them careening toward total implosion. This behemoth was a tsunami of complications he didn't expect but wouldn't allow to throw him off course. 

"You said that last night and the night before. I'm tired of 'tonights!' It's happening, Asia! We can't get around the shit. So, talk to me right now!" Kelvin's body vibrated in time with his hands gripping and releasing the steering wheel until he practiced in and out deep, soothing breaths brought him back off the ledge. Asia watched his shoulders slowly slump away from his ears before he reached over to rest a warm palm on her inner thigh to stroke his thumb against smooth denim, his eyes apologetic as he looked over at her. "I didn't ask you to be with me for no reason. Can we talk about what all this means for us?" 

Asia rested her hand atop his to twist the ring on his finger while she tried to gather words and explanations she'd practiced for days on end. "I don't know." 

In all her soul-searching and reckoning with the inevitable, she realized that she had no idea what the next steps were. 

She always had the answers, the plan, and the foresight to know how to proceed in any situation. This one, though – this flurry of warm feelings filled with complicated explanations and head-spinning romance – she couldn't figure out. Not even when she turned to practical skills and timeline plotting to make it all make sense. 

I don't know. Kelvin wasn't sure what he expected when he decided to corner Asia for an answer, but that wasn't it. Not knowing was worse than not caring. He could deal with the finality of no longer giving a fuck. However, the uncertainty in what he thought was a reasonably black-or-white scenario was unnerving. Kelvin let the gut punch settle until Asia spoke again to soothe the pain she'd inflicted.

"How…how would it work," She questioned in a small voice, her eyes low to avoid cracking the nerve she'd built. "Tell me you have a plan. Because, if you don't, I –" 

Kelvin rushed to reassure her. "I have a plan. Trust me." For once in his life, Kelvin was moving intentionally. No stone left unturned; no possibility left up to chance. "I leave in six weeks. Give me two to get my shit together, and you're on the first flight into O'Hare." 

"And after that?" 

"We'll talk every morning and every night. Then I'm on my way to you every other week, baby. And every other month, I'll make sure you get to me. Nonstop flight. The price doesn't matter. All you need is a packed suitcase. Or not. You can be naked the whole time. That's fine by me." 

Two nonstop flights a month, airport pickups and drop-offs every other week, Fridays in, Monday mornings out, constant connection over the phone when the physical was out of the question—simple enough. There was no fluff, only a concerted effort to make a less-than-ideal situation work. The happiness didn't have to die if they didn't let it. 

Still, Asia wrestled with separating idyllic assumptions from reality. What happened when schedules presented challenges? Or when the weather interrupted? Did distance make the heart grow fonder or help intertwined lives push away the realities of life together hundreds of miles apart. 

Kelvin could see the wheel turning for Asia while she mulled over his proposal from every angle. "Give me a little more time, okay?" Deflating. The air in Kelvin's sails came through his nose in a disappointed huff just as traffic began to pick up enough for steady motion. She held his hand in place, hoping he could feel the intention behind her hesitancy. "I'm not closing the door on us. I need to make sure we're prepared. That's all." 

The absence of an enthusiastic yes wasn't a no – another tidbit to add to Kelvin's growing Asia file. He'd have to find comfort in the details to keep her in his life. And damn, did he want to keep her in his life. His plan had more legs, including a permanent address change for Asia. 

"That's okay. Take your time," he answered as he laced their fingers together and brought the back of her hand to his lips. "Just don't leave me hanging like that again." 

"I won't. I'm sorry."

Relationships came with a learning curve Asia had to experience to understand. No one in her life had prepared her for conflict resolution. Being an only child taught her how to play by herself and keep her secrets close to her chest. There was nothing in the manual about coexisting with another human she cared for more and more each day. She didn't know how to share items or feelings. But Kelvin made her want to try. That had to count for something. 

Once tense quiet returned to the comfortable, wordless quality time Kelvin and Asia had come to enjoy, it followed them for miles to the venue until the need to mix and mingle took center stage. 

In a room full of strangers intermixed with a few familiar faces, they moved around like a couple for the first time. Introductions as a tandem flowed naturally. Seeing them move from group to group hand in hand amused but didn't surprise team members who'd long had their suspicions confirmed by Savannah. 'Alvin' as one member of the group named them. Not their preferred choice, but good enough for the moment. 

As alcohol flowed and inhibitions were disarmed, smooth crooning and soul-stirring baselines from the artist of the hour pushed tomorrow's problems further down the road. 

Kelvin kept a hand on Asia's hip while she allowed her body to sway along with RINI's soulful cover of Leon Bridges' "That's What I Love." Hearing his voice beyond the warbling of his JBL speaker from Asia blasting music far too loudly reminded Kelvin of the first time she shared her new favorite artist with him. She made him listen to Ultraviolet twice all the way through, forcing him to commit more lyrics to memory than he ever did for any other artist. Truthfully, the music didn't hit the same when she wasn't in the room. He tried listening on his own, but it was missing something or someone to add the depth he needed to make the album spin worth his time. 

Applause filled the room just after the final strum of RINI's guitar reverberated. Asia beamed from a spot toward the back. Asia claimed she was fine where she was, but Kelvin knew she was too scared to get close and act like a crazed fan. His lips found her temple for a quick kiss as RINI prepared to end his showcase. 

"I gotta find a way to get out to the States more. This is great," he laughed, causing the audience to join him. "My time is ending, but I can't go without singing the song that put me on your radar. Big thanks to Moët for letting me spend some time with you tonight. I'm excited to get to work this summer. Until then, this is Meet Me in Amsterdam. I hope you enjoy."

Asia couldn't contain her squeal, earning a low laugh from Kelvin once the open notes of her favorite song began. 

I would sail across the world

Row this boat from dusk till dawn

Kelvin and Asia had heard the song plenty of times together, so much so that Kelvin was tired of its slow drone and accompanying music video. Both RINI and Meet Me in Amsterdam were on his list of things he could live without and still die a happy man. 

Until the lyrics started to circle too close to home. A plea for the songwriter's love to make the leap and meet him in a foreign land felt like a page ripped directly from Kelvin's journal. Had he possessed the talent, he would've sung into Asia's ear while she leaned against him, caught in the rapture of beautiful lyrics. 

She didn't need Kelvin's additional vocal performance to know her partner had fallen victim to the magic. She was right there with him, letting the music speak where neither her heart nor mind could reach. 

Won't you come closer; let it take over

I don't need anything; I just want you

"I just want you." The words came out before Asia could stop them. She was never one to fall into the melodrama of romance, but maybe she'd never had an adequate opportunity. Maybe all she needed was a few glasses of white wine and a man looking back at her like universes formed in her eyes to give in to what she'd always considered unrealistic and a little corny. 

Kelvin wrapped an arm around her waist before dipping his head to meet her parted lips as she craned her neck to get a better look at his face. "You got me." 

Turning in his arms, she faced him head-on. "I want to try. For you. Let's make it work." 

"Every other week. I swear."

"I know. I believe you." 

Rolling waves filled with blinding passion set their bodies aflame, connecting them for a kiss too searing to start and end in a room full of people. Some things were best experienced behind doors clumsily kicked closed after Kelvin and Asia burst through the door of his apartment connected at the mouth. 

Small items clattered on the ground as they bumped into the wall, sending anything not bolted to Kelvin's entryway table scattering in the darkness. The moonlight streaming through his balcony door was the only light to illuminate their path. They couldn't care less. Kissing and fondling were their only priorities on the way to shedding extraneous clothing. 

The bedroom was too far, and the couch didn't provide enough leverage for what Kelvin wanted to do for Asia. The counter was too high off the ground, unfortunately. The table, though, was perfect. 

Kelvin thanked God for weightlifting as he hoisted Asia up into his arms, tongues still dancing as he walked them across the room. Asia used her forearm to swipe decorative mats and rattan charger plates to the floor so her backside could fill the empty space. 

Soft panting and the light smack of lips coming together and separating rhythmically filled charged cold air. Asia flinched when Kelvin slipped his hand beneath her t-shirt to reach her bra's front clasp. 

"Take this off. Hurry up," Kelvin demanded as he stepped back to pull his crewneck over his head.  He didn't have time for frilly language and sweet kisses. Maybe later, when they'd calmed down from their high. This first fuck was for all the sessions they'd missed between quiet nights in and words left unsaid. A little something to take the edge off. 

Zippers sliding down, garments rustling, and leather sliding out of thin loops made Kelvin's apartment sound like a department store dressing room until they were reconnected in mind and body.

Half-dressed with goosebumps pebbling an expanse of rich brown skin, lovers let their hands roam freely while they grinded against each other. 

Asia moaned at the feel of teeth gently tugging her bottom lip before pulling away to breathe. "C'mon, Kel. Right now," she rushed on in one breath. "I need it." 

"What about the condom? It'll only take a second." Kelvin asked, half-hoping but not expecting Asia to abandon her primary stipulation. 

"Fuck a condom. C'mon." 

The go-ahead to proceed with caution thrown to the wind put them on a path to the sort of carnal and fleshly satisfaction Kelvin's father warned him about before he left home at 18. 

Sorry, dad. This shit feels way too good to miss out on, Kelvin thought to himself as he slid into Asia's warmth inch by inch. He was weightless for a moment, floating in otherworldly bliss while he fit himself inside her body. "Fuck," he whispered. 

"Oh…yes. Yesyesyes." Asia's toes curled, gripping at nothing in a desperate attempt to remain tethered to the atmosphere. "Wait a second. Don't move." Crossing her ankles at the small of his back, Asia pulled Kelvin in a little deeper, smiling at the small groan he muffled against her skin. She just needed to feel him. In six weeks, they'd have to plan moments of intimacy and simulate sex through a screen, waiting for the day they could be together in the flesh. Tonight, with his body filling every dip and ridge like the final piece to a puzzle, they could kick the can down the road for a few more days. "Okay. I'm ready." 

Agonizingly slow thrusts helped them get acquainted with one another in a new way. Kelvin lifted his head from the crook of Asia's neck, yearning to look her in the eyes for an added layer of closeness. He pecked her nose, lips, chin, cheeks, and lips again, trying to keep those three words at bay. 

"Faster, baby." A firm request teetering on begging broke through Kelvin's haze while Asia tried to pull him into her body by his shoulders. 

He smirked. "Oh, you can talk now?" His taunting made Asia squirm against him for extra friction before he stopped and held her in place. "You up for another lesson?" 

"Mhmm," she forced out, hoping her compliance would get her closer to the real fun. 

"You been quiet all week. Imma need to hear you tonight if you wanna cum."

A horny, exasperated sigh preceded a short whimper. "What? I don't know how t –"

"Yeah, you do," Kelvin encouraged. Tell me what you want, and then I'll give you what you need." 

Near painful throbbing has Asia ready to agree to anything if it meant she could finally come off some of the pressure from a stressful week. Quick agreeance earned her a return to Kelvin's slow back and forth, a shiver hitting both their spines as he took a shallow dive inside.

Asia took a deep breath and tested her voice. "You - you feel so good?" She closed her eyes, hoping Kelvin would take pity on her feeble attempt only to be rewarded with nothing. She tried again. "Right there, baby." 

"We'll be here all night. Relax. Be confident." 

Relax. Be confident. The gentle reminder and suckling at her neck helped Asia partially release the valve on her nervousness. Kelvin rocked into her expert precision and care, waiting to hear more. 

A choppy moan caught in her throat before she could speak again. "You fuck me so good. You really thought I was gonna let you get that far away from me?" 

Kelvin groaned and sped up enough for Asia to notice. She smiled, palming the back of his head to keep him close. 

"There it is," he whispered. "Keep goin', beautiful. Tell me some more." 

Bingo. Electricity sparking between them opened up a whole new world of vocal possibility. "I want all you got tonight, baby. Can you do that for me? Fuck me until I can't take anymore?" 

"Uh-huh. I got you." 

Asia rubbed circles at the nape of his neck, feeling a jolt in her body from another change in pace. "Mmm. Deeper, baby. You can do better than that, right? For me?" Her provocation ignited a burning desire for Kelvin to perform. He needed the glory. Asia dropped her talking display long enough to moan through her man putting his entire being into testing the limits of his little circular wooden table. 

If sweet talk couldn't get him to knock the rings out of her, goading him with a challenge undoubtedly did the trick. Scratching against his back, demanding more depth, more speed, and more kissing spurred Kelvin into fast, furious fucking. 

In no time, they were close. Deliciously, dangerously close. No protection meant no staying for the final hoorah. He had to time his exit perfectly for the right mix of precision and mutual satisfaction. Though Kelvin seemed to care, Asia was just hitting her stride. 

"I think about you all day, waiting for you to fuck me just like this. I want you so bad sometimes." Asia confessed while Kelvin fucked her on his toes. "Even at work, when we’re not supposed to. That’s when I need you the most.” Grabbing the sides of his face with both hands, Asia forced him to look her in the eye. "Be good for me, baby. Make me cum."

Instructions? A command? A simple slip of the tongue? Kelvin couldn't bring himself to waste brain power distinguishing. He needed to focus. Focus on Asia's nipples rubbing against his chest and how her breaths and his started to become one. Then, the light sheen of sweat helping their bodies slide against one another. He focused on the sticky coating of arousal inviting him to rub his thumbpad against her clit.

Asia squealed, then licked Kelvin's open mouth. He rasped out a command of his own. "Come on! Come on!" Resolve began to wane. Any longer, and they'd be in the nearest drug store taking the walk of shame toward the Plan B pills.

If the walls ever decided to talk, they'd blush when recounting the vision of Asia forcing Kelvin's mouth against one of her breasts, trying to balance the sting from his hand colliding with her thigh with his warm tongue tracing braille on her areola. 

Her body seized, making it almost impossible for him to pull out. Every other week on a stuffy flying bus sounded like hell, but if he had this to look forward to after the wheels touched the tarmac, he could drum up some enthusiasm in no time. 

At the last moment, Kelvin forced himself out of his favorite place on earth just in time for the fruits of a mind-bending orgasm to spill from his head onto Asia's inner thigh. Together, they watched fresh semen coat supple skin, their chests heaving and ears ringing. Kelvin couldn't speak. He could only watch as Asia gathered a small amount on her fingertip and swiped it against her tongue. 

Kelvin moaned when Asia moaned to relish the sensory experience of his taste. "Did I pass?" Her question fell on deaf ears, with Kelvin more focused on gathering more semen on his fingers to pop into her mouth. She treated him to a show, sucking the digits clean. She spoke again. "Answer me, baby. Did I pass?" 

"With flying colors," Kelvin finally answered. Asia smiled into a searing kiss, reveling in her accomplishment. A new skill had been unlocked, and one more accolade had been added to her mental trophy case. 

Another lesson to take her mind off of the inevitable. At least until the morning rolled around to wash the fresh coat of paint she'd forced over a very real, immovable problem. 

RINI blasting from phone speakers dampened behind the bathroom door reminded Asia of the night before and how she'd allowed the heat of the moment to lock her into a contract she'd neglected to read the fine print on. 

Facing the bedroom window, Asia snuggled deeper into warm sheets and scanned the pros and cons list on her phone. Pro #1: She could eat deep-dish pizza every other month. Con #1: Her man wouldn't be nearby multiple days a week. Which was more important. She couldn't decide. Food or the comforts of stable, local partnership? 

She had started typing a new con when Kelvin emerged from the bathroom naked and moisturized from head to toe. "You awake now?" 

Fuck. Asia thought she had more time to plaster on her happy face. She used a pretend yawn as her buffer. "Yeah," she answered, faking the funk. "Good morning, baby." 

"Morning." Unbrushed teeth could never stop Kelvin from getting his first kiss of the day. He nuzzled his nose against hers before speaking. "Sleep okay?" 

"Mhm. You?" 

He nodded and slipped into bed beside her. "For the most part. I gotta show you something, though." Kelvin reached back to retrieve his phone from the nightstand's charging station. A few taps against the screen presented a short list of apartment options for Asia's inspection. "I started looking at some spots in the middle of the night. This one has a crazy second room for an office. Look at that view." 

A wall of windows overlooking the downtown cityscape made Asia's stomach churn. Reality smacked her in the face. He was leaving and waiting on her approval on an apartment she couldn't stand in a city she wished didn't exist. 

"That's so nice, baby. You can get a nice couch in there as a gaming room, too." 

Kelvin considered her suggestion and nodded. "Damn, that's a good idea. I need to take you with me when I look next week. You down?" 

"Uh…yeah. Yeah, I'll come." Asia shook off her rapidly increasing heartbeat and scooched closer to rest her head on Kelvin's shoulder. "Can you show me another one?"

Enthusiasm fading into meaningless sounds turned Kelvin into Charlie Brown's teacher as he gushed over layouts and natural light. She nodded along to nothing in particular. Smile. Rub his arm. Act supportive. Be the perfect girl. Just be happy for a little longer. 

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[w2sology]

Hi can u do harry with shy and pregnant reader who ìs like a little sister to rest of the sidemen

nerf or nothing, harry lewis.

summary: the boys come over to spend a bit of time with you and harry, and they come bearing gifts!

warnings: pregancy (idk if that's even a warning?)

notes: as a shy person myself, some of this writing is heavily self inserted 🥲

"what if they don't end up liking football though?"

"then we can try darts. or hey, even rugby."

"harry."

it was past noon and you and harry were discussing things that parents to be often discussed, only harry was focused on the later years of your child's life.

the two of you sat in bed, your back leaning against his chest as you sat in between his legs, loads of catalogues scattered around you both.

"oh, about the pram that you were talking about before," harry mentioned.

"yeah?"

"ethan said faith had loads of websites, she could send them to you if you wanted?"

"oh, god, yes." you sighed contentedly, no longer feeling the stress of having to look for a perfect pram. "or better yet, tell her that she can come over, i haven't seen her or olive in a minute."

harry told you that he'd let ethan know, kissing your forehead before leaving to the kitchen to fix you both a snack.

whilst he was in the middle of pouring you a glass of cranberry juice ─── "it's good for the body harry," you told him, to which he replied with "no, rank is what it is," ─── the doorbell rang.

confused as to who you were both expecting or if it was yet another baby purchase coming in, harry sat the glass on the counter and made his way to the door.

before he could even open it, he knew who it was judging by the loud voices and the bickering of what sounded like jj and simon.

"just ring it once, mate, they can definitely hear." simon groaned, trying to obstruct jj, who clearly didn't listen and kept pressing the doorbell, which earned your attention from upstairs.

harry stood a little away from the door, contemplating what would happen if he just turned around and pretended not to hear the commotion happening outside.

"we can see you, harry," ethan called from through the letterbox. so much for that plan.

harry sighed before opening the door, a smile plastered on his face as his friends all cheered, seeing them bound with gifts and food and other things.

the soft sound of your footsteps made them all turn their head to where you were on the stairs, your baby bump proudly peeking through harry's oversized shirt that you had on.

"oh," you shyly smiled. "hi guys." you didn't think they'd all be here, but there they were.

one by one they came up to you, hugging you and saying their hi's or hello's, asking how you were. and you'd reply with the same, you were doing good, more tired than usual, all that stuff.

whilst harry and simon carried the gifts and food bags to the living room, toby linked your arm with his as he walked you there, making sure you were sat comfortably before harry and simon joined.

harry, being attracted to you like a magnet, squished in next to you, his body on the edge of the sofa as you leant on him.

there was never a moment of silence when the boys came over, and like the listener you were, you loved it.

toby began to explain what each of the gifts were for, considering you didn't know the gender of the baby yet, most of then were just toys. but then again, with them being the slightly immature bunch if men they were, the toys were things like legos and nerf guns or huge dollhouses for toddlers.

"what the hell is a baby going to do with a nerf gun?" harry asked.

"i thought you of all people would like this gift," jj gasped, hand on his chest as he feigned hurt at harry's words.

"no, i'm just saying boys..." and there started the debate over suitable toys for children.

you turned to vik with a look that said 'help me' yet all he did was shrug.

"harry, a couple of months ago you would've been on board with this idea. y/n, what did you do to him?" ethan pointed a finger at you.

"what— me? he's right, a nerf gun's for toddlers, not babies!" you defended yourself.

harry's chest moved up and down as he laughed behind you, even more so at the way you groaned and his your face in your hands.

"i'm not ready for harry's mature era," simon commented.

"mature and harry don't belong in the same sentence," vik added.

"oh my days," harry mumbled as they launched into a new topic, harry's maturity level.

as they all introduced their own point, you just smiled and laughed along as you leant on your boyfriend, feeling even more excited for your baby to be welcomed into the family.