#umich rpf blurbs

[three-headed-monster]

“and here i thought you didn’t care.” + 1322

had to do this one first :))

no but really i had some inspo for this one and it's 1K okay byeee

It’s been three days since Kent and Owen arrived in Switzerland, but breakfast on Wednesday is the first time he sees Kent not completely attached at the hip to Mason McTavish.

It’s fine.  Owen gets it.  He had been excited to see Mason too, having been close at World Juniors, and he knows Kent and Mason got really close as linemates during that time.  But he can’t help but feel a little pool of jealousy form in his stomach every time he sees Kent staying longer to work on stickhandling with Mason or when Mason’s door is the first one Kent knocks on to hang out with after practice.  That’s usually him and Kent, and he’s not sure how to navigate now that the dynamic has changed so drastically, so quickly.

Owen just doesn’t have very many close friends is all, and Kent is his best friend.  He’s sure he’ll get over it, inevitably.  But at the moment, every time he sees Kent steal a piece of cantaloupe from Mason’s plate at breakfast (like he’s doing right now), he gets more and more tempted to poke Mason’s eye out with his fork.

“Dude, are you okay?”

That’s Devon, and Owen is suddenly reminded that while this Kent’s first time not being solely focused on Mason, it’s also Owen’s first time eating with the group too.  That means other people can actually see him angrily stabbing at his waffle when Mason swings an arm over the back of Kent’s chair.

He wishes Devon wasn’t so annoyingly observant.

“I’m fine,” Owen says, as his stomach twists himself in a knot hearing Kent laugh at a joke Mason made.  That laugh used to be reserved for him.  “Just not that hungry.”

How can he be hungry when the thought of Kent and Mason together makes him want to throw up his fucking guts?  Owen’s not particularly posessive, not in any sense, but something about the idea of Kent leaving him, of Kent getting a new best friend, of Kent doing the same things he does with Owen with someone else, makes Owen want to revert back to being seven again and yelling “mine” every time his brother took one of his toy trucks.

He doesn’t want Mason to know the sound of Kent’s voice when Kent sing-songs about wanting to watch How I Met Your Mother again.  He doesn’t want Mason to know the look Kent’s face gets when he’s solving an econ problem, fierce determination in the soft curve of his mouth like pouting at it will make it solve itself.   He doesn’t want Mason to know the feeling of butterflies errupting in his stomach when Kent gives him that smile, the one that’s tucked away in his back pocket, that he only ever gives to one person because it’s sacred and special.

That’s Owen’s. That’s all his.

And suddenly, he can’t stand to sit there a second longer looking at his best friend in the entire world do all the things they used to do together with someone else.

Owen’s already halfway down the hall to his room by the time Kent catches up to him, his little pants echoing in the silence of the corridor as he tries to catch his breath.

“What’s wrong O?  Are you okay?”

He’s not.  He’s not and Kent can’t even see it, even though Kent used to be able to read his fucking mind.

“And here I thought you didn’t care.”

Owen can’t even stand to look Kent in the eye, already digging in his pockets for his keycard.  He knows how Kent will react.  Owen doesn’t speak much, isn’t good at choosing his words, but he chose these ones and they’re pointed.  They’re sharp and meant to punch Kent in the fucking gut just enough to let Owen walk away to deal with this bullshit on his own, to get over this stupid jealousy that’s overtaking his mind.

But maybe he doesn’t know Kent all that well anymore, because Kent just rolls his eyes and pokes one of his lithe fingers into Owen’s chest.

“Of course I fucking care, you’re my best friend Owen,” is what Kent gets out before Owen can even say “ow”.

He’s always been faster at finding the right words to say than Owen ever will be, and that’s why they work so well together.  Kent wouldn’t work this well with Mason.

“Well,” Owen draws the word out in the way he always was, sentences even harder to get out now that Kent has sprung this confrontation on him.  “I thought that was Mason.”

He watches the way his words sink into Kent’s mind, the molasses-like way his face shifts, before his mouth flattens into a thin line, and sighing as he yanks at Owen’s collar all in one movement so they’re pressed up nose to nose.

They’ve never been this close to each other.  Owen can feel Kent’s breath fanning his lips so so delicately, and his lips are so spit-slick that it makes Owen’s heart constrict like a vice in his chest and oh. Oh.

“You’re special you fucking dumbass.  Can’t you see that?”

Owen’s always been slow on the uptake but he can’t believe he missed this, the way the air practically electrifizes around them, his body desperately aching to be touching Kent’s everywhere.

This isn’t just him missing his best friend.  This is…this is something else entirely.

And as Kent crashes his mouth into Owen’s, he just prays that Kent doesn’t do this with Mason too.

.

.

.

“HA, Shaner owes me 50 bucks.”

[three-headed-monster]

“can i trust you to keep a secret?” // “no, but you can trust me to not pay attention.” + this screams 1934 to me

Bords is drunk.  Bords is soooooo drunk.  Subconsiously, he knows this, but that doesn’t stop him from plopping himself straight into Briss’ lap, giggling as he almost falls over and Briss has to put a hand on his waist so he doesn’t faceplant into the seniors’ coffee table.

Bords likes that.  Briss should put his hands on him more often.

“Heyyyyy,” Bords slurs.  Slurs?  Is he really that drunk? “Can I trust you to keep a secret?”

Briss pulled the short straw tonight and is designated driver, so Bords knows he’s stone cold sober.  Surely this means Briss can keep his super special secret.

“Ha,” Briss laughs melodically in his ear. “No, but you can trust me not to pay attention.”

Hmph.  That’s not what Bords wanted at all.

“But you’re my bestest friend in the whole world Brennnnnn,” Bords whines.  “Even if you’re not from Quebec.”

Bords clings desperately to Briss now, making sure he can’t push him off of his lap and walk away.  This is important!  If he can’t tell his bestest friend in the universe, then who can he tell???

“Okay okay buddy.” Brendan tightens his grip on Bords’ waist and Bords finds that he likes that.  “I’ll keep your secret safe.”

He better.  Bords can’t have the boys finding out about this, that’d be soooooo embarrassing.

“Okay then,” Bords giggles, jabbing his finger at Brendan’s solid chest, right above his heart.  “Well then you should know that I really really like you.  That’s my secret.”

It feels nice to finally tell someone, especially Briss, his bestest bestest friend.  But he doesn’t understand why Briss freezes like a popsicle and drops his grip on Bords entirely.

“That’s not funny Thom.” Briss sounds so serious.  But he’s NEVER serious, not with Bords. “I know you’re drunk, but you have to cut that out.”

Cut what out?  Maybe he should tell Briss again, he probably didn’t get it the first time.

“Nooooo.” Bords presses a sloppy kiss to Briss’ cheek.  “I like like you.”

Haha, like like.  It’s fun saying things twice twice.

“Sure Bords,” Brendan says, disbelieving.  “If you can tell me again in the morning, I’ll believe you.”

Bords makes a mental note to himself to do so, beneath getting another shot of vodka but above doing his laundry tomorrow.

“Okay Bren.” Bords nuzzles his face in the crook of Briss’ neck.  “Remind me and I will.”

[three-headed-monster]

If you’re still doing the RPF quote thingy for the UMich ship, could I get #14 with Briss and Bords please? (And if not, no worries). :)

of course anon!

“You’re wearing the ring.”

Bords can hear Briss’ smile through the phone, the hotel wifi making it a little difficult to actually see the smile he loves so so much for real.

“Of course I am,” he answers, tugging at the knot of his tie. “But damn, good eyes, I thought you wouldn’t notice.”

Briss rolls his eyes over FaceTime, his face freezing midway through, eliciting a laugh out of Bords.

“Of course I noticed,” Briss said, scratching at his newly grown out beard that Bords wants against his skin so badly. “I’m not blind you know.  Plus I’m the one that bought it.”

He had, getting it shipped from Bords’ personal jeweller the day after they got home from Frozen Four.  Bords didn’t even know Briss had their number, but somehow he had managed to get it made, engraved, and sent to his house without Bords’ even knowing.  He had proposed to Bords on the porch that night, when the streets were quiet and it was just them in the darkness, alone.

Just like how it started.  Just them.  Together. 

“Pretty sure your dad is the one who bought it.” Bords runs his thumb over the outside of ring, just enough so the Je t’adore engravement scratches the side of his ring finger.  “Didn’t you use his credit card?”

Bords wouldn’t be shocked if he had.  Somehow, despite the PR mess it’d probably create if people found out they were actually together, Pat had always been pretty supportive of their relationship.  Bords suspects it maybe because he recognizes that they make each other happy, or maybe because he views Bords as a third son.  Either way, he’s glad for it.  Pat is like a second father to him too.

“Nah, you know he only paid for the wedding.”

If you could even consider what they had a wedding.  They had held it at a tiny, but respectable chapel in Vegas, with only their close family in attendance.  No decorations, barely a few chairs for people to sit on, nothing fancy at all.  Neither of them had even worn their good suits; he doesn’t think Briss even brushed his hair.  There was nothing about it that was special, but it was theirs.  Even if they hadn’t filed their marriage certificate until Bords had arrived in San Jose, the Vegas wedding was the first time Bords felt married in every sense of the word.

It was kind of…perfect.

“Hey,” Bords hadn’t even realized he had zoned off until Briss called him back to their conversation.  “Soon yeah?”

Soon Brendan will be home in Manhattan Beach.  Soon they’ll get to be together.  Soon.  Soon.  Soon.

“Of course” Thom hopes Brendan can feel see happiness through FaceTime. “Can’t wait to see you Brendan Bordeleau.”

[three-headed-monster]

#8 on the misk prompt list for 1322 please!

They’re lying in bed together, as they always do most nights, when Kent breaks the ice.

“Can I trust you to keep a secret?” Kent says as he traces a figure eight on Owen’s wrist.

This whole situation feels strangely intimate, more than Kent and him usually are.  But Owen has sort of expected it.  They’ve been dancing around each other ever since Beijing, ever since their somewhat normal friendship evolved into this, whatever this was.

“No but you can trust me not to pay attention,” Owen tries to joke, but Kent’s eyes are wide and sad as he shakes his head.  This isn’t the time for jokes.

“I–” Owen can feel Kent’s breath coming out in shaky pants from where he’s tucked into the curve of Owen’s shoulder.  “I don’t want to lose you. This.  Fucking-fucking us.”

Owen doesn’t know what that means.

“What?” Owen’s so confused.  “I’ll still be here, we’ll still be…friends.”

Kent is silent for a long long time, so long that Owen thinks he’s reassured him properly and he’s fallen asleep.  That is, until Kent’s mouth places a soft kiss to the side of his throat, turning Owen’s whole body into mush.   And yeah…that’s not exactly friendly.  Suddenly, Owen gets it.

“I just-I want you like this?”  Kent whispers it so so softly.  “Would…Would you want to be with me like this?”

Owen dips his head down to meet Kent’s and hopes the resulting kiss is enough to answer his question.

[three-headed-monster]

“damn it. i was hoping you wouldn’t notice.” // “i’m not blind, you know.” + 723

“Jimmy, why is my bed covered in rose petals?”

The very last thing Nick expected to see after his brain-numbing midterm was his boyfriend laying out flowers on his bed. Especially because Jimmy highkey hates the senior house (one of the reasons he moved in with the other Canadians) and much prefers when they hang out there, where it’s well…clean.

So yeah, it’s a little weird to see Jimmy actively making a mess in his room, when he actively complains about how dirty the rest of the senior house is.

“Damn it,” Jimmy says, almost sheepishly, as he runs a hand over the back of his neck. “I was hoping you wouldn’t notice.”

His bedsheets are dark blue. Nick would have to be crazy to not notice the red and pink petals on them.

“I’m not colourblind you know.” Nick picks up one of the petals, dangling it between his fingers. “They stick out like a sore thumb.”

They are pretty though. And they go well with the candles Jimmy has set up on his nightstand and the box of chocolates on his desk and oh no.

It’s their three year anniversary. And he forgot.

“Jimmy I’m so—”

Jimmy’s always one step ahead of him, cutting Nick off with a soft kiss to his forehead, probably to shut him up.

“It’s okay baby,” Jimmy says it like it really is. “I know you’ve been really stressed about your exams, and I figured you would forget it anyways.”

But that doesn’t make it okay. Nick’s job is to not forget. How could he have done this when his relationship with Jimmy is one of the most important things in the world?

“I’ll make it up to you.”

He will. He’ll take Jimmy to some fancy restaurant that’s way out of both of their budgets and they’ll have a delicious steak dinner. Or he’ll do something similar for date night next month. Or—

“Don’t worry about that babe,” Jimmy whispers, dropping his hands to hold Nick’s in a gentle caress. “I’ve got everything I need right here in you.”

Eventually, Nick will make it up to him. After all, he can’t let Jimmy take all the credit for their third anniversary. But all that pales in importance when Jimmy kisses him, slow and deep because yeah.

He has all he needs right here too.

[three-headed-monster]

“contrary to popular belief, i do know what i’m doing.” with matty and brendan 👀

“What the HELL are you doing??”

Matty’s ears are ringing, as he pokes his head out of his front door and looks down the street, where a plume of black smoke is currently curling it’s way up the side of the juniors’ house from the front lawn.  There’s so much smoke on the street, that Matty thinks this surely can’t be legal, not when the alarms have gone off in all of the hockey houses on the street.  Poor Trusc is trying to shut off theirs, waving a dish towel at it tiredly.  Even Blanks is done with his, chucking the one from the seniors’ house onto the road before he marches over to Jimmy’s house, likely to get some fucking sleep before the game.

Somehow though, with fire alarms blaring and “shut the FUCK ups” being yelled out of windows, no one is actually going over to the culprit himself: Briss. Who is currently throwing a pillowcase into the fire, poking at it with a stick like it’s personally offending him.

His heart maybe swells just a little in his chest, seeing Briss in a soft sweater with his hair messily flipping onto his forehead.  It’s just a lot…but this fire is also personally offending Matty, who would like to take his pregame nap without dying of smoke inhalation.

“And what do you think you’re doing?”

Briss’ Cheshire Cat grin (the one that Matty is semi-endeared by) is already on his face by the time he turns around, holding up a burning twig like he won it as a prize at the carnival.

“I’m doing what’s called a cleanse Matty, it’s supposed to be relaxing.”

Matty doesn’t know how Briss thinks a burning mass of chairs, tables, and even a few t-shirts would be “relaxing” just a few hours before a game.  But, he’s smiling, which makes Matty want to smile, because he’s sickenly hopeless for Briss at all times.  Which is bad because he’s trying to scold him here.

“Well could you stop?”  Matty snatches the stick out of his hand before Briss can set his hair on fire.  “It’s distracting.  People want to nap you know.”

“Hey,” Briss says, hands up like he’s getting arrested for this bullshit. “Contrary to popular belief, I do know what I’m doing. Plus, Beech gave me permission.  You can’t say I did something wrong when someone responsible is supervising me.”

If “supervising” while roasting smores over the fire with his girlfriend counted as supervising, well then, Matty might want to speak to the manager.

“Why are you even doing this anyways?” Matty groans.  “What do you have to cleanse?”

Clearly, it’s not a subject Briss wants to discuss, from the way his eyebrows furrow angrily at Matty.  The urge to soften that crease in his forehead is great and Matty has to wrap a hand around his wrist to make sure he doesn’t reach up and do it accidentally.

“It’s my ex’s stuff,” Briss whispers, after a long, long silence.  “We broke up.”

And oh.  Oh.  Matty wasn’t expecting that.

“I thought you and Lisa were good?”

They had to be good.  If they weren’t, then Matty would hope, and the worst thing for him to be doing right now for Briss is hoping.  He doesn’t want to be an asshole about this for goodness sake.

“Nah.”  Brendan kicks a rock into the fire, looking Matty straight in they eye.  “She wanted more than I could give her.”

Matty wants to dig into that so badly, but now isn’t the time.  Now is the time to sit down with Briss on the front porch, hold him close and let him cry on his shoulder to “cleanse” his hurt.  Now is the time to comfort Briss because Matty loves him enough to put him first.  Now is the time to let Briss just relax.

And then maybe they can talk about feelings over a s’more later.

[three-headed-monster]

15 for bords/briss (bet you didn’t think i’d send them lmao)

heyyyy

so idk if this is really cute at all or what you wanted exactly buttttt here you go, have at it, a little blurb about an idea we've bounced around

“So your plan to woo Bords is to buy him clothing.”

Brendan doesn’t know why Owen sounds so skeptical about his uh-mah-zing idea when Kent is literally tucked under his arm under the couch, scrolling Instagram on his phone in a Chicago Steel sweatshirt that clearly isn’t his.  It worked for them, why can’t it work for him?  I mean, how else is he supposed to get Bords to notice him?  They’ve been friends for forever, and the only time they’ve gotten anywhere close to kissing is when they were twelve, and Jordan accidently caught them under the mistletoe at their dad’s annual Christmas party, trying to get John Tavares and Sidney Crosby to make out.

And yeah, maybe Brendan wishes he could get another kiss from Bords, that isn’t just him slobbering grossly onto Brendan’s cheek enough to distract from the Wet Willie Bords was giving him.

“Andddd Big Dog??? Is there a problem with that?  Look at you all sappy and gross with your relationship now.”

Brendan gestures vaguely at the scene in front of him, Owen sprawled out on the couch with How I Met Your Mother playing in the background and Kent’s legs tangled up in a mess with his own.  It’s frankly disgusting that he has to see this at minimum once a day.

He can’t wait until he can torture Matty and Trusc by being this annoyingly romantic with Bords too.

“Hey Owen didn’t woo me by buying me stuff,” Kent pipes up.  “He did that with faith, trust, and a little bit of pixie dust.”

Ah, so Owen did get drunk and tell Kent about his Tinkerbell theory after all.

“Well, I’m gonna do that but with Bords.” Brendan says, triumphantly.  “Except my pixie dust will be actual gifts, unlike Owen's lame drunk confessions.”

That unsurprisingly gets a cheeky eye roll out of Kent as Owen stares at him warily, as if he’s not sure this is an idea that he should be encouraging or discouraging.

“Are you sure Bords will even appreciate it?” Owen’s voice is slightly more flat than usual, and there’s that ‘I’m curious to see where this goes but I will be disappointed either way’ tone Brendan knows all too well.  “What if he just doesn’t wear any of it?”

Brendan’s already searching through the Essentials website before Owen finishes his sentence; he knows what Bords likes.  He knows him better than the back of his own hand.  Bords is gonna think this is the Bomb.com.

“Don’t worry about that,” Brendan scoffs, as he drops a hoodie into his cart.  “Contrary to popular belief, I do know what I’m doing. And it’s all gonna be charged to my dad’s credit card anyways.”

-

Bords shows up to practice in a Gucci sweater the next day, and Brendan so wins when he sees Owen’s mouth drop right open at it.

Boom. Pixie dust.

[three-headed-monster]

“i can’t accept that. you do so much for me already.” // “and i have no intention of stopping” with 1322 please :)

“I can’t accept that O.”

Kent’s fingers thumb at a torn seam on the letterman jacket, already knowing that the size and bulk of it on Kent will be enough to tip people off that it’s not his, if the ‘Power’ stitched on the side of the arm didn’t do it already.

“Why not?” Owen’s eyebrows are furrowed almost angrily, as if he’s mad at Kent, even though he’s always said he could never.  “What’s wrong with it?”

There’s nothing wrong with it.   Nothing at all.  In fact, if Kent stopped listening to the rational part of his brain, he’d put it on right now and never take it off.

“Nothing,” Kent says, although he knows it’s everything. “I just-you do so much for me already.”

Kent knows what this means, what it’s a sign of in the eyes of the public, what it represents.  And he doesn’t know if he’s ready for that, if he’s ready to go from just lying together doing econ homework in the house, to the statement that this is.  Owen is already so bold with him with the team, but this is so so much more.

“And I have no intention of stopping.”

Owen says it like it’s easy, like everything will just fall into place if Kent accepts this when–

“O…are you sure you even want this?”

The jacket feels like a heavy weight in his hands, as if the expectations that come with it are dragging it down.  There’s a metaphor to be found there about him and that same feeling, but he can’t pay attention to that when Owen is gently lifting the jacket out of his hands and unfurling it.

“I think I want people to people to see you in this jacket,” Owen whispers lightly, as he spins Kent around and tugs the jacket up Kent’s right arm.  “I think I want people to see my name on this jacket on you.  And I think I want people to know you’re mine.”

Owen smoothes his hands over the top of the block M, right over where Kent’s heart is a little busy thumping it’s way out of his chest because fuck.  Owen has never been this bold before.

“Okay then,” Kent intertwines their fingers together on his chest.  “Thank you for giving this to me.”

[three-headed-monster]

ooh! could you do #11 for owen/kent?

"you're the worst, thanks for noticing i try my best"

a/n this is a makeout scene!

“Okay,” Kent braces his hands on Owen’s chest, wiggling around until he seems get comfortable on Owen’s lap.  “Now kiss me.”

Owen doesn’t move a muscle.  He didn’t think his first kiss with Kent would end up like this.

“Are you sure you want to be doing this?”  Owen’s hands are sitting not so innocently on Kent’s tiny, tiny hips, squeezing lightly every time Kent shifts.  “Couldn’t you just kiss Matty straight up?”

He doesn’t know why Kent can’t just go do it.  Kent’s had his first kiss already, he’s not a kiss virgin.  Not in the way Owen is.

“Yeah, but I need to practice for it to be good,” Kent says it like it’s a given.  “Who better to practice with than my best friend?”

Literally anyone else would be better.  Briss, who has kissed the entire sophomore class so many times Owen is shocked he hasn’t gotten mono.  Or Bords, who stands under the mistletoe at every Christmas party, waiting to surprise someone with a kiss.  Even Trusc, understanding and sweet Trusc would probably kiss Kent if only to make him feel better about himself.

Owen doesn’t understand why it has to be him, the one with the obvious crush on Kent.

He shouldn’t have agreed to this.

“Please Owen?”  Owen can hear the pout in Kent’s voice.  “Just one time and then we never have to talk about it again.”

Kent pulls his face ridiculously close to Owen’s, and it hits him like a freight train.  Holy shit, they’re going to kiss right now.  Owen is going to kiss Kent for the first time, for his first kiss ever, and it’s not even going to be real.

“Okay,” he says, because he can never deny Kent anything.

 And then they kiss.

And it’s the best (okay and only) kiss Owen has ever had in his life.

Kent’s spit-slick lips slide over his in a practiced dance, making the kiss wet and heady not even thirty seconds in, a little sigh escaping from his parted mouth moving over Owen’s own lips.  Owen doesn’t know what the hell to even do with his teeth and tongue and anything, but Kent makes it so so good, licking into his mouth in a way that makes him let out an embarrassing little moan that Kent echoes.

Eventually, they do have to pull back, but just as Owen thinks it’s over, he’s being sucked right back in, Kent whimpering as he scrambles to grab Owen’s shirt for more stability while he’s straddling him.

And then it finally clicks in Owen’s mind.  Oh.

“There was never anything with Matty was there,” Owen pants, as he brings a hand up to tug at Kent’s hair.  “You just wanted to kiss me.”

“What was I supposed to do?”  Kent grinds down on him, making Owen shout into the tiny space between them.  “You never even made a move O.”

Kent breaks off the kiss slowly, a string of spit connecting their lips together for a second before it broke, Kent bending his head down to suck a hickey onto Owen’s jaw.

“You’re the worst,” Owen says affectionately.

Kent smiles against the curve of his jaw.

“Thanks for noticing, I try my best.  Now let me suck your dick O.”

[three-headed-monster]

And here i thought you didn't care

erik portillo/with whoever deserves his precious goalie love

a/n: gets a little suggestive at the end, but nothing is done!

“Sooooo that must have been pretty difficult for you huh,” Bords singsongs as he bumps playfully into Erik in the hall after they finish their press videos.  “With the English yeah?”

Before Erik can answer, Owen’s voice cuts through their conversation, his version of “Shake It Off” making it’s way through the walls of the hotel.  It’s probably the funniest thing they’ve ever heard, and they’re cackling on their way back to their rooms.

“And here I thought you didn’t care,” Erik says through his laughter, pressing the UP button for the elevator. “It’s not too hard though, I’m actually pretty good at reading lips.  It’s nice that you seemed to notice.”

And it is.  Bordy is one of his favourite guys on the team.  He’s always been making sure that Erik feels included in conversations and is being included in team events, a casual arm swung over Erik’s shoulders as he tries to convince Briss or Nolan or Beecher to let him tag along to their chaotic activities.

“Oh.” Bordy’s smile is bright, blinding, and beautiful.  “That’s good, wouldn’t want you misunderstanding stuff when we’re talking fast then.”

The elevator dings, opening up to Kent, who's probably looking for Owen to go for dinner.  He waves at them as he gets out and Erik and Bordy shuffle in, their hands accidentally touching as they both go for the Floor 12 button.   A flush crawls its way up Erik’s neck, as Bordy throws out a “sorry”, ever the Canadian at heart.

“So…” Bordy says after a long silence.  “Do you have any more to learn in terms of English then?”

He’s got his eyebrows crooked up mischeviously and Erik just knows there’s something he’s missing here, some sort of context he’s not getting.  Maybe he does need to know more.

“Um maybe?” Erik says, as the doors open to the 12th floor and Bordy tugs on his arm to pull him along.  “Where are we going?”

“Well Erik.” Bordy looks up at him through his eyelashes, foxy and seductive.  “I think it’s time to teach you the meaning of the word ‘blowjob’.  After all, you’re good at reading lips yeah?”

[three-headed-monster]

hi!! can i request 14 with 1322??

of course anon! idk if i need to have a content warning or smth here but this mentions guys wearing lip gloss sooo...

“Are you wearing lip gloss?”

That must be what it is, because Owen knows Kent’s mouth like the back of his own hand, and for all it’s pink and lush, it’s never been this red before.   Kent runs his tongue over it, making his bottom lip all shiny, his saliva wetting the corners of his mouth where the gloss’s glitter is sticking to.

“Damn it, I was hoping you wouldn’t notice,” Kent says, eyes fluttering like he’s trying to be innocent, when Owen knows he’s not.

“Just because I have glasses doesn’t mean I’m blind you know.”  Although Owen sort of wished he was at this moment, because he’s not exactly sure how he’s going to erase the sight of Kent’s thick, wet lips drenched in glitter.  Heat pooled in his gut at the glimpse he caught just now; he knows if he files it into his bank of jerk off material that it’s going to be there permanently, knows he’s going to end up screaming into his pillow tonight with how viscerally he wants those lips on his-

“Do you like it?” Kent asks it like he’s innocent, as if Owen doesn’t know he’s practically begging for it, doesn’t know the way he seduces all the guys on the team into giving it to him.

All of them except Owen, because for some reason, Kent won’t work the moves on him.  Kent is his best friend fucking always, and it makes Owen want to do something stupid like kiss him, so he sees Owen is right there.  But that’d just smudge his lip gloss and Owen is sure Kent doesn’t want that.

“I-it’s nice I guess,” Owen stammers as Kent smacks his lips together, the scent of synthetic cherry fills the air.  Fuck, he’s never getting this out of his fucking head is he?

Kent flutters his eyelashes prettily and oh yeah, he’s so beautiful.  “Thanks, Bords put it on me.   Want to try?”

Owen can’t express how much he wants to taste, to lick into Kent’s mouth, to suck the cheap cherry lip gloss from Kent’s plush lips.  But Owen can’t tell him that, absolutely can’t, not when Kent is just his best friend and nothing more.

Maybe he can still have a taste though.  He can pretend it’ll be as good as kissing it off of Kent.

“Sure?” 

He assumes Kent will just hand him the tube, but his brain starts whirring like a fucking Macbook when Kent walks up and gets his face close, so close that Owen can practically feel the stickiness of the lip gloss on his own lips already.

“Well, then,” Kent’s saccharine sweet smile presses delicately onto Owen’s bottom lip, making him groan.  “Why don’t you have a taste then?”

[three-headed-monster]

thank you to everyone who sent something in for the umich rpf blurbs!!!! i will be closing those requests now :((

please be patient with everything, lots of people sent stuff in, and rest assured i am working on them!

i'm trying to get out around one a day, so it may like end up taking me like a month lmao (there are 15 requests in there or smth) but i promise i will get them done!!!!