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hellfire--cult · 9 hours ago

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Long Distance Bf!Eddie Munson x fem!Reader

wc: 17.7k

+18 reader is a gamer, talk about games, long distance, pining, sex toys, mentions of phone sex and video sex, established relationship, slight angst, reader being insecure, kissing, oral (f and m), rough, spit, dirty talking, p in v (unprotected), eddie being a sweetheart as well as a perv in a good way

Summary: You didn't plan it, but through a game lobby you met the person who would become your long distance boyfriend. The time came for him to visit you for the first time after five months of dating... and you are not going to hold back.

a/n: thank you to @ghost-proofbaby for proofreading and fixing so much shit, as well as @andvys cause these bitches betaread almost every filth i write. this was supposed to be a v-day fic, so happy belated valentine's day.

Please reblog, be kind.

NO MORE BUFFERING

“Eddie, what kind of internet do they have in Hawkins? You’re lagging like shit… again.”

“Don’t disrespect it–” Silence, a robotic voice coming in making you roll your eyes. “–It’s a small town–” and again. “–You know.”

“No, cause I didn’t hear half the shit you said.” He froze on the screen for a second before the call dropped. A second later, your phone started ringing, making you scoff with a smile, answering the video call.

“I am so tired of this shit, sweetheart.” You saw his mop of curls coming into view as he placed the phone standing straight on his desk. You saw he was shirtless as he put cream on his hair, one of your requests after seeing the dryness and open ends on them.

“I told you to call the company many times!”

“It’s not the company, Hawkins is shit.” You giggled at his outburst, feeling your cheeks flush the more you looked at the expanse of his chest. The arms covered in tattoos, and you could see the happy trail going down into his sweatpants, which were too low, and his bush started sticking out a bit. “You done checking me out?”

“You’re hot.” You heard him chuckle on the other side of the screen. Your lovely boyfriend just posed for the camera, pretending to be in a vogue magazine or something. You giggled as you felt your cheeks heat up. No matter how many months had passed, he would still make you feel giddy and nervous. Who would have thought that the stranger standing on the other side of the screen would become your long distance boyfriend?

You didn’t plan it, really. It just happened.

Since you were little you liked playing video games. You adored it. Unlike some of the girls and boys in your school who did sports and stuff, you preferred to stay home with your Playstation 1, then the second one, then the Wii, then your first computer to play on. You made friends along the years, but then those friends lost interest in video games.

Nowadays, you have a full on gamer setup built in a room of your apartment. You also had studied Video Game 3D blending and you have a very well-paying job at a game producer company. You were basically living the life you always wanted to have. Your friends didn’t mind that you were a hermit or a little introvert with yourself. They learned to love you that way, often just laying on the bed as you play games, just being there for company, and you greatly appreciated that.

The problem was, none of your friends played online, and you were sick and tired of going into teams with random people in Call of Duty, and you were also disgusted and fed up with the men that just insulted you in game just because you were a woman, even if your score was better than what they did. They just kept insulting you, reporting you, and you encountered maybe just one woman every night in the lapse of ten matches.

So, you opened your Discord app, where you can join community servers of fandoms, and you joined the Call of Duty official server. You wanted to build a team, or to join one where they would not judge you. Maybe you could find an all-girl team in there. Your mouse moved around, looking through the topic channels to find what you were looking for. Finally, there it was.

‘Team finder.’

You decided to give it a try and joined that channel, seeing the people messaging each other, some asking for teammates and revealing their status in the game. You were pretty high in rank, so you were trying to look for a team that had the same one or close. Suddenly, a user that went by ‘i wear weird al shirts’ sent a message.

‘Looking for just one more teammate. We are looking for either a diamond or crimson rank!’

Your heart beat a little bit rapidly as you replied to them, telling them you were crimson rank. You received a message request later, privately, and you saw it was that same username, introducing themselves as Dustin. You checked their profile card, seeing they went by he/him. You were very respectful with the online community’s pronouns, so you always made sure to get them right.

He told you that they have a server for the teammates only, but that they would like to test how they feel with your gaming ability first. You licked your lips a bit and hovered over your keyboard, wondering if you should tell him you are in fact a woman. But you don’t know the rest of the team, so there might be another girl in there.

You gave Dustin your username, immediately receiving an invite in game. You joined the crew. You entered a very silent lobby, the other five people inside but not talking. You assumed that they were talking to each other in that private discord. You now hovered on your hot key to push to talk in game, but you didn’t quite want them to know you were a woman yet. Finally, one talked.

“Hello! I’m Gareth!”

“You are just going to give out your name like that? Christ.” Three guys for now. So you got Dustin, Gareth, an annoyed person and you are left to know two more.

“Stop having a stick up your ass, Mike. I’m Jeff.” Another guy.

“I’m Eddie, the most handsome guy in here.” You saw the speaker icon at the top of their characters light up each time they talked.

“Shut up, Eddie. Let’s just play and see if this guy is any good.” This Mike dude was very irritable. Your eyebrow twitched when he called you ‘guy’. They thought you were a man.

“Hang on, maybe it’s a lady!” The character of the guy named Gareth lit up.

“As if.” Mike talked once more and your anger was slowly rising - you were committed to make this guy eat his fucking words. When you get angry in game, you get ten times better, and this stupid little man is gonna wish he got on your good side by the end of it.

“You ain’t going to present yourself, sugar?” The Eddie guy talked and you decided to type by now.

‘If by the end of the game you guys want me in your party, I will.’

“Fair enough.” He responded and you sighed in relief. They went silent, and you could only guess they were talking on the discord again to each other. They started the game.

You got first kill.

First headshot.

The guys were cheering you on. Even the Mike guy was going insane over you.

You ended up as Player of the game. You smiled in triumph as you laid back on your chair. The guys cheered for you in the lobby, and you received a message from Dustin, the invite to a server called, ‘Hellfire Club’. What an odd name. They played nice, and they were fun with their commentary, the problem was if they would accept you when they learned you are a woman. One way to find out.

You clicked on the link, accepting the invite. You saw them all connected to the voice chat, and you felt your belly turning with nerves. You licked your lips as you took a deep breath in, seeing the messages in the chat to join them. You pressed on the voice chat, their voices blasting in your ears, cheering for you.

“Look who it is! Our champion! Our savior!” Dustin yelled and you smiled, containing a laugh.

“May we ask for the name of our brilliant knight?” You saw Eddie’s icon light up at his voice. This was it.

“Lady.”

Silence. Radio fucking silence. This was the part where you get kicked out, wasn’t it? Or where they start bashing on you, or bully you, or assume you are cheating in the game.

“Holy fucking shit!” The guy Jeff exclaimed as they started laughing, Dustin’s icon lighting up then.

“Mike, you better fucking apologize cause she carried your sorry ass just now!” You rolled your eyes, not even thinking the guy would properly apologize but–

“I am so sorry, I am forever in your debt.” Your eyes widened and then you saw on your other monitor how, thanks to this match, Mike had ascended rank in game.

“Uh, no problem.” You didn’t want to make your voice cheery, or high pitched with emotion, just in case you would annoy these guys. Eddie talked again through chuckles.

“We have a goddess in our land, boys, we gotta behave.” You sat there, expectantly as you waited for everyone to settle down. Then Eddie, who you saw was the one who created the server to begin with, talked to you again. “Does the goddess have a name?”

You gave your name softly, and each guy greeted you properly. You were stunned at this change of scenery. These guys were chill with you, but you really do wonder–

“Aren’t you guys freaked out that a girl is playing with you?”

“Are you kidding? One of our members was a girl too, she kicked ass, the sister of a friend. She started school so she is not able to play with us as much as before!” Dustin explained and your mouth fell open at that. They didn’t care if you’re a girl. They just cared that you played nice.

“Ahem, sweetheart.” Your body straightened up at the pet name, not disliking it at all for some reason. “You wanna join Hellfire?”

Every Tuesday, Wednesday and Friday, you all played together for hours. Mostly were wins thanks to you and Eddie, then there were some losses, but not a single game was toxic. They raged sure, but you weren’t far behind.

“COCK SUCKING SLUT, YOU FUCKING CHEATING PIECE OF SHIT!” You yelled loudly, ready to throw your controller across the room because you knew you found someone using a bot to aim perfectly at the head.

The boys’ laughter resonated in your ear, and Gareth was always the one to try to calm you down. You were so happy to have found a group that liked you, that had fun with you, and honestly was super interactive. The boys shared their foods, purchases, even clothes they bought in the general chat of the server. They showed their pets as well, Eddie, you and Jeff being the only two who didn’t own any.

You confessed you’ve always wanted a rat, and while most of the guys disagreed, Eddie was on your side 100%. He found rats cute, and he knew that they are as intelligent as a seven month old puppy.

One night in particular, after a month of talking with them, they decided to have a drinking night with you. Even if they were close to each other in distance, they stayed in their homes so that you could join and not feel left out. You were so thankful for them, but that meant you would be on camera for the first time. You wondered what they imagined you looked like, and you wondered how they looked like as well. They never shared pictures in the chat, and you never shared yours. You assumed they just wanted to keep their privacy. They knew each other in real life, unlike you.

So you got yourself out of your hermit clothes, put on makeup, even did your hair a bit. You put on an oversized sweater and prepared your beer in front of your PC. You took a deep breath in as you fixed the camera at the top of your monitor and you looked at yourself in the preview before joining the voice chat. You could see everyone pinging you, hurrying you, and you finally clicked the button.

The boys cheered as you came on the screen. You saw how they clapped and whooped. Only one person was not saying anything and– Oh fuck…

You didn’t expect Eddie to look like that. You didn’t expect Eddie to look like your type. Oh, fuck. And he wasn’t talking. He wasn’t saying anything, why?

“Hey, Munson, you alright there?” Jeff asked with a snicker on his lips, which made Eddie finally snap out, his curls falling on his face. You didn’t know if it was because of the lighting or what, but his face turned slightly red.

“Yep, totally fine. I’m just bummed I have to give up my throne.” Your eyebrows met in the middle a bit, staring into his camera only.

“Your throne?”

“Prettiest from the group, duh.” At his words, Gareth whistled, Mike and Dustin laughing with a cringe, but you felt yourself flush all over. It’d been a while since you got complimented like that, but that was because you truly never went out. You can’t even remember when was the last time you had sex. Your dildo doesn’t count.

“I beg to differ.” You commented and that seemed to catch Eddie off guard, because he choked a bit with his saliva. Jeff laughed, wiggling his eyebrows at the camera.

“You guys want us to leave?” And was it evil for you to wish that? A bit. You chuckled and shook your head as you raised your can towards the camera.

“I thought this was a drinking night?”

After that camera call, it seemed the boys were keen to keep putting the cameras when in the voice chat. You did as well, taking them grocery shopping and to the pet store to look at rats, the only one aww’ing at them being Eddie. But there was one particular call where Jeff, Gareth and Eddie were together while Mike and Dustin were not online.

“Welcome to your first Corroded Coffin concert, sweetheart!” You were in awe as you saw them play, but Eddie– Eddie caught your eye. He had been catching your eye for a while, and after exchanging instagrams with everyone, that attraction only grew.

But what were you thinking? He lived in Indiana, you lived in Virginia. This was just attraction over a guy you’ll probably meet in a year if this online thing doesn’t fall apart. It’ll go away. It had to.

Yet there was one night, where Mike, Dustin, Eddie and you were playing together, Dustin and Mike telling you that they were heading to bed. You pouted a bit on camera, not really wanting to go to sleep, but you knew the gaming night was over. You said goodbye to Mike and Dustin, about to say goodnight to Eddie as well, but–

“I’m not tired, you wanna stay on call with me, sweetheart?”

One call turned to two, to three, to four, to times when you both pretended to be offline so you could call each other privately. You watched movies, talked about TV shows, about one another’s lives, likes and dislikes, and soon, your attraction turned into a crush. Your heart raced whenever you called him, whenever you woke up with good morning messages from him, and then you called each other every single day.

You shouldn’t have done this. You were now with a crush on a man who lived miles away from you. And maybe he didn’t even feel the same for you, just that he found a new friendship in you and maybe he just wanted a feminine touch in his life.

“This movie fucking sucked ass, Eddie.” You laughed as you rubbed your eyes, the credits of the movie you two watched together rolling up. You looked at his face as he laughed into his hands in shame.

“This is what I get for following Steve’s suggestion, for fucks sake.” ‘Drag me to hell’, supposedly a great scary movie. Sure, if you think a possessed talking goat is scary.

“Tell Steve that if I ever meet him, I’m tying him to a chair so he forcefully watches the ridiculous 6. That will cause him an aneurysm.” You heard him scoff, putting a hand to his chest in feigned offense.

“Take that back right now!” You could only giggle, shaking your head.

“No, I’m standing by what I said.”

“Take it back–”

“Make me.” Suddenly he went silent and your smile fell. Did you fuck it up? Did you go overboard with that?

“Do you want me to?” His voice was not playful, no… it was flirty… Oh, he was flirting with you. Eddie was flirting with you.

“Mmm, I don’t know. Depends on how you do it.” This time you heard him groan, your heart beating out of your chest as he leaned forward, his eyes fixed on the camera and the screen, probably looking at you.

“Okay, I think it’s time we cut to the chase, shouldn’t we, sweetheart?”

“What do you mean?”

“I enjoy being alone with you here, do you enjoy being alone with me?” You felt your body flushing all over, sweat appearing on your fingertips.

“I do… a lot.” And he nodded. You noticed how he nervously looked at the camera and then at the screen. He ran a hand through his hair before he spoke again.

“Darling… I know it’s fucking stupid, and– Kind of weird– but, fuck… I have never met a girl like you. In my entire fucking life. I mean– Who the fuck listens to the Sims 1 soundtrack on the daily?” Your eyes widened at that, gasping.

“I do! It’s very comforting!” He only chuckled, shaking his head.

“And something I never heard in my life… You’re weird.” His eyes were soft as he looked at you. You bit your bottom lip as you played with your fingers on your lap.

“Is that a good thing?”

“I really like you, sweetheart.”

And the words took a while to process in your brain. This guy that never got to touch you, or see your entire body, likes you. He just does. He likes you because of who you are, not exactly how you look. The cameras on were just a plus to make the calls even more personal, which only made your crush grow bigger.

A smile spread on your lips as you saw him covering his face with his hair, acting shy, peeking through it as if he were hiding. He was cute. Such a dork. And so handsome… and gentle. Caring. He bought you a plushie you wanted from Kingdom Hearts that you saved in your wishlist. You were surprised when you received it, not knowing if you accidentally bought it, but the note inside made your heart melt on the spot.

‘Happy birthday, my goddess.’

“I really like you too, Eddie.”

So no, you didn’t plan it. You didn’t plan to date someone online for five months. You presented him to your friends and even if a little weirded out, they really didn’t expect something else coming from you. They were happy you found someone, even if not in the practical way.

The boys already knew. They had confessed to you, embarrassing Eddie in the process, that he never stopped talking about you. He praised you whenever he could, reminding everyone you were a lady and beautiful and that you had to be respected.

But in a relationship come needs. Eddie is handsome. He is… well, he is hot. You find him extremely attractive, inside and out. Your dildo could be named Eddie at this point from how many times you used it and called his name out loud, pretending your pink dildo was his cock.

So, in one bold movement, after a month of properly dating, you decided to do your first bold move. You sent him a suggestive picture of your cleavage.

‘Should I wear this top for Heather's party?’

It had taken him a moment to reply to you, making you wonder if he was busy or if he was just staring at your picture. You started second guessing yourself, wondering, again, if you had gone too far, only for your phone to ping.

‘Sweetheart, do you want me to die?’

‘Why? I’m just asking a simple question…🥺’

‘Can you send more pictures? Or a video works best, I need to do a thorough inspection to give a verdict.’

And the sexting part began. Then the pictures were no longer suggestive, just plain nude. He started that one after you sent a picture of yourself in your lacey underwear and bunny ears in front of your full-length mirror.

‘I’m so fucking hard right now, darling, you have no fucking idea.’ He sent this message with a blurred picture attached. You knew what it could be but– You were not prepared. You were not prepared for what you saw. Not only was it big. Not only it was curved. But Eddie had a tattoo along the shaft. He had Sindarin markings on the underside.

It made you wet in an instant.

Sexting turned into phone sex with video calls. He saw you, you saw him. He saw you fucking yourself in your dildo as you moaned his name, and you saw him fuck his hand to yours. It was daily, if not every two days. You had never done this before, but fuck if it wasn’t hot. Hot, yet not enough.

Which brings you to five months into the relationship, and the present day.

“Hey, sweetheart.” He called out as you hummed, still looking at his body as if you were daydreaming. He laughed, leaning over to look into the phone camera. “Stop drooling over me, for just a second.”

“No way, not possible, live with it.” He shook his head at you, his smile faltering slightly with nerves and you tilted your head in wonder as you felt your stomach flip with nervousness. “What’s wrong–”

“Nothing is wrong. I promise! But uhm… well… With the new job, I managed to… kind of save up.”

“For what?”

“Visiting you.”

Your brain short-circuited. You had explained to Eddie that you couldn’t visit him for a while, not until your video game project was done with, and your work days were never set. You couldn’t take your PC with you, so you had to stay home.

“What?”

“I– Tell me to fuck off if you’re not comfortable, I just– I really want to see you. There’s… a flight on… Valentine’s day.”

You felt yourself melt in your seat as you heard his words. He wanted to meet you for the first time and not on just any day. Valentine’s day. You knew Eddie had been struggling with finding a good paying job a few months back, finally landing a good one as a mechanic in his town.

“You… You got a new job and instead of saving up for the new guitar–”

“I saved up to finally meet you, yes– but if you tell me you’re not ready, I’ll go and just buy–”

“Yes… please…” And you two stared at one another for a few seconds, your heart beating wildly in your throat as he stood there.

“I– Yes?”

“Yes, I want you to come here, Eddie.”

You saw him walk backwards cheering with his fists in the air, and you smiled as he jumped excitedly, his hair bouncing all around him. You saw his uncle Wayne opening the door to see what Eddie was doing, and you couldn’t help but snort as Eddie stopped and pointed at his phone.

“I’m meeting my girlfriend!”

“Okay? Uh–” Wayne looked at you and nodded in greeting, “Hi sweetheart.”

“Hi, Wayne.” His uncle didn’t live with Eddie, but he came to visit often and even stayed for a day or two at his home. At Eddie’s request. It seemed Eddie wanted independence, but he was too attached to Wayne. He had explained to you about his past, about his family, and it was completely understandable that he couldn’t let Wayne go that easily.

“Keep it down, I’m excited for you two, but your neighbors will complain again.” And like that, he closed the door. The nerves invaded you once again and you saw Eddie rushing to grab the phone and taking you as he sat on the computer. You saw him typing away, and you knew he was looking to book that flight right away.

You saw the concentration in his scrunched-up features, his tongue poking out from the corner of his mouth as he squinted at the screen, clicking away. Excitement built in your belly as you looked at him. As you looked at a guy that just lived far away, yet you’ve never felt more connected to in your entire life.

A guy you fell in love with, despite the recent connectivity issues.

“BOOKED!” He yelled excitedly and you giggled, covering your mouth as you thrashed around, finally realizing you would meet him. You would meet Eddie. You would meet your boyfriend for the very first time, and on Valentine’s day to top it off. That would be a month away, and you could tell your work to give you a breather the week he stays with you, to not bother you as much.

You were excited… but nervous as fuck.

What if he doesn’t like you? What if he sees you and is disgusted? Should you kiss him as a greeting? Were the flowers in your hand too stupid to give to him? He said he liked them, so you got him some because men also deserve flowers on Valentine's day. You were standing at the Arrivals gate, just where Eddie had told you he would get off on.

You had prepared your home from top to bottom, cleaned it all up, and you even went to get a Bikini Wax with Heather. You exfoliated your skin, put on some lotion, and you were going a little bit crazy with it– But, was today the day? Not only were you going to meet him, but should it also be the time where you could confess to him?

You didn’t know if it was too soon or not, being the first time you ever fell in love for real in your life. You were pretty sure it was love. How could it not be? Eddie had not answered you for a whole day once, and you could not get in contact with him at all. His location was also off. Your first thought was very dark, afraid he had gotten into an accident with his motorcycle or something. You had called Gareth and you demanded him to go take you to Eddie.

You made him go to Eddie’s house while on a video call with you, and when he arrived and knocked on the door, Wayne had answered. Eddie had caught Mono. You were relieved yet the stress didn’t leave you at all. Wayne showed you Eddie’s state on video, and you saw him breathing at least, with a warm towel on his forehead and all.

When he started messaging you back, you told him you were relieved but you had asked Wayne for his own phone number just in case. You remember Eddie being touched by how much you cared, and the fact that Wayne trusted you enough to give him his personal information just for the sake of knowing Eddie was okay.

You were clearly in love, and gone. You were holding flowers, balloons in the shape of bats and hearts. You looked silly, but you noticed some people looking at you with smiles on their faces, knowing you were most likely hopelessly in love waiting for your partner. They were absolutely right.

Suddenly, the doors opened and you held your breath in as people started walking out. You saw a family getting back together, then an old lady and a man who brought her flowers, kids greeting their mother. You were nervously waiting and– did you get the gate wrong? Maybe you did? Should you check your phone to make sure? That is nonsense, you checked like forty times, but maybe you looked at it wrongly–

And then, you saw him, dressed all in black, guitar strapped to his back, his hair pulled up in a bun, his left hand dragging the carry on. His other hand? It was holding a rat plushie with cotton flowers in its hands. You felt your eyes burning as you saw him looking around, your heart literally about to jump out of your chest and your stomach twisting with vines of nerves. This would be it. You did small little jumps with your feet, rising your heels and then putting them back down, over and over again and–

His eyes finally clashed into yours. His face lit up instantly, a smile spreading from ear to ear, his dimples showing off completely. He was so beautiful in real life and you just felt complete. You felt so giddy, something you never thought you would feel for someone else, at least not in the way you met that someone.

You bounced on your feet excitedly, smiling widely at him. His face, still smiling, made a confused frown as he looked around at what you got him. His feet started working, rushing your way as you waited by the limit. You were finally going to hold him. You were finally going to feel his warmth and spend time with him and–

You heard a huge thud of something falling and then big arms closed around you. Your arms wrapped around him, trying to not let go of his gifts but you felt like crying from how happy you felt. How whole you suddenly became. To be able to hug the person you have been talking to for months, that you have shown the most intimate parts of yourself.

His face was deep in the crook of your neck and shoulder, and you realized he had thrown the carry on to the ground as well as the plushie he got you. It was okay. You didn’t care. You felt his hands all over your back as if he was holding something so precious that he was afraid it would fall apart if he let go. And maybe, it would. Now you don’t know how you will be able to keep going with your daily life once he is gone. How you’ll keep going without his hugs, kisses and–

You flushed all over as your thoughts became impure, in just one single instant. Oh, he smelled good. He smelled so fucking good. You were in such bliss, you didn’t want to let go, but you knew you had to. You felt him pulling away for a second, his eyes meeting yours and you held your breath tightly as you waited for him to kiss you. He was going to, wasn’t he?

“Are these for me?” He suddenly asked and you were so stunned, looking down to your hands and you smiled widely, giving the flowers to him, as well as the balloons. He chuckled as the smile never left his lips. You saw a hint of a blush on his cheeks as he looked at them. “I never received flowers in my life– Valentine’s day gifts at that.”

“Me neither.” He smiled at you, putting all the gifts in one hand so he could bend down and pick up the plushie that had those cotton flowers in the middle. You squealed loudly as you grabbed it, inspecting it. Suddenly you caught on a scent, making you lean forward and smell it, and– It’s him. It’s his cologne.

“Sprayed it myself. I may have put a cloth inside and stitched him up again for longer effects.” Your heart was in your throat as you felt overwhelmed with emotions. You hugged the rat tightly to your chest as Eddie stared down at you with a smile on his face.

“Thank you…” Your voice was small and muffled into the plushie. You looked up at him with bright eyes, hopeful he would lean in, and you needed to kiss him. You wanted to kiss him. But–

“Should we go? I am in terrible need of a cigarette, sweetheart.” You giggled, nodding as he bent down to grab his carry on again with his free hand, and you two walked side by side. The people all around you looked weirdly your way but still kind of adoringly. It was a metalhead guy with flowers and balloons in his hand, of course they would look.

You two walked through the airport, smiling like idiots. You wished you could hold his hand but he was not able to right now. You were wondering why he didn’t kiss you, and maybe you should? Maybe you should kiss him when you reach your car and he puts the things in the trunk.

He talked to you about how Wayne made him share his location at all times, the old man worried his nephew was travelling to another state by himself even if where he went, he was not going to be alone at all. You took your free hand to message Wayne, sending him a selfie with you and Eddie, signaling that he arrived safely because Eddie could not grab his phone right now. Wayne sent you a simple ‘take care now, use protection.’

That message made you flush all over, knowing that it was something that was going to happen no matter what. Absolutely. Wasn’t it? You wanted it to happen but– What if Eddie didn’t want to? What if he just came here to spend time with you but not to engage in something intimate? Were you looking too much into it? You literally had video sex with each other, so it not happening would be… weird… wouldn’t it?

But maybe… he doesn’t want to after seeing you? Maybe that’s why he didn’t kiss you?

Your self doubt was starting to slowly eat you alive as you reached the car where you parked. He put his carry on inside the trunk and the balloons as well because they would just not let you see on the rearview mirror, plus you might be stopped thanks to them. You bit your lip once you heard the trunk slam shut, Eddie turning your way with a smile on his face.

“So, ready to take me to your castle, my lady?” You giggled as you nodded, ready to take a step forward in order to be able to tippy toe and signal him you wanted a kiss, but he immediately rushed to the passenger’s side after putting the guitar into the backseat, making you frown slightly.

You went into the driver’s seat, putting the plushie to sit in the backseat so you could drive while Eddie held his flowers on his lap. He was surprised you had gotten him roses, and he couldn’t stop lavishing over them. As you drove, you put music for each other, and he was babbling away about how the guys wanted to have a call with the two of you together on camera.

“Oh, that’s kinky.” Was your comment and you noticed Eddie nervously chuckling and– Was he nervous? Shit, were you too forward? You didn’t take into account he was as nervous as you. Maybe that’s why he is not making any moves? Not even holding your thigh?

Fuck, you wanted to jump on him and you had to calm down.

Once you got into your small complex, he was in awe when he entered your apartment. It was big for just one person, and he knew your apartment by now. You had given him a tour but it seems that showing him through video it may have looked a bit smaller than what he had expected. He put the carry on at the entrance as well as the balloons.

“We should put these in water, I don’t want them to go bad.” He commented, still holding onto the flowers which warmed your heart. You guided him into the kitchen, grabbing a vase and filling it with water, letting him put the flowers in it. Your plushie was left on the dining table so now, your hands were free as well as his. It was already night time, and you just wanted to hold him right now, needing to feel him in your arms again and–

“Did you have dinner yet?” You asked, wanting to cringe at yourself. The air was a little tense, and your self doubt and nervousness was making you feel a little awkward. Maybe it’s not what he expected?

“I didn’t actually, and as far as I remember sweetheart, you told me there was a pizza place here that was fucking delicious.”

“Pete’s. And it will be the best pizza you ever had.” You smiled up at him, swaying a little as you put your hand on the counter. You saw him breathing a bit heavily, nervously, and he cleared his throat.

“I’ll be the judge of that.” He smiled and you realized he was not going to make a move at all. You don’t want to hover over him, or read the signs wrong. Fuck. You were becoming restless, even more when you sent a message to the pizza place so you could order and for them to deliver it to your house.

Meanwhile, Eddie was walking around your apartment, gushing over all the consoles you had. He knew you had them but it was still amazing to him to see them there. He explained to you how he could only afford the Playstation 2 when he made money out of selling weed at his school. You could only smile through your nerves as you both waited for the pizza, sitting on the couch… rather apart.

Why was he far away? Did he not want to hold you in the same way you wanted to hold him? It was Valentine’s day and he was sitting on the far end of the couch, and you have waited for months for this moment. Should you really take the initiative here? Were you giving wrong signals? No, you’re pretty sure you aren’t. You have batted your eyelashes, you have brushed your fingers against his when handing him the can of beer, your eyes went to his lips many times and he either was not seeing it or– he was playing dumb.

Dark clouds invaded your mind as you went to the bathroom, messaging Heather immediately.

‘He is not doing anything.’

‘What do you mean?’

‘He hasn’t even tried to kiss me yet, and the pizza is about to arrive, and all we did was talk, which is nice, but we’ve been doing that for five fucking months.’

‘Okay, maybe you should kiss him? Or just talk to him?’

‘What if he doesn’t…?’ You felt like your heart was about to burst as you thought of that possibility. What if you weren’t what Eddie expected in real life? What if it became way too real for him that he was now regretting ever coming to your house? What if he regretted breaking the illusion that he had of just looking at the screen?

‘I’m sure there’s an explanation… talk to him, don’t be a fucking idiot.’

You heard the doorbell ring and you flushed the toilet, pretending you went in there to just do your business. You walked out to see Eddie looking at the intercom with a frown in his face, seeing the pizza guy on the camera.

“How the fuck do I talk to him?” You laughed as you walked towards it, standing next to Eddie, pressing the button to talk.

“Hi Pete, come on up.”

“Thank you, honey!” The old man said as you pushed the open front gate button. Eddie’s eyebrows raised in awe at it and then he frowned.

“Wait, Pete?”

“Yeah, the owner!” You smiled at him as you walked to your door, standing on your tippy toes to look through the peephole, your hips swaying excitedly as your mouth watered. You felt eyes on you, but maybe you were just making it up in your mind so that the horrible thoughts would go away from you. You saw Pete coming over and you immediately opened the door, a smile on your face.

“Hello lovely.” He greeted you and you grabbed the pizza from his hands, handing him the money and the large tip you always give him. “You know you always give me too much.”

“No, I don’t. Don’t know what you’re talking about.” The man rolled his eyes and then he saw Eddie standing behind you, waving at him.

“Oh, what a lucky guy you are!” You felt your cheeks burn up as you giggled nervously.

“That I am, Pete!” You heard Eddie say and that just made you feel even more confused than before. The old man smiled, tipping his head down once and gave you both a nod.

“Well, I better leave you two alone. Happy Valentine's!” With that, Pete turned and left, letting you close the door and lock it. He could get out of the gate with a button he could press from the inside, so you didn’t have to bother with that one. The smell of pizza filled your nostrils and you moaned in delight as you walked towards the couch.

“This smells so fucking good.” You sat down, looking back to see Eddie just blinking, staring at nothing. “Eddie?”

“Oh–” He snapped out with a shake of his head, his curls bouncing around. “Yeah, yeah, it does.”

He rushed to sit next to you, and you turned on the TV to at least put something as background noise. You decided to put ‘The Office’ which Eddie and you had binge watched together, having never seen it before. When you opened the box, you saw that Pete had followed your instructions, a smirk appearing in your face. Eddie’s eyes widened, a laugh escaping his lips.

“Oh my god.” He saw the pizza in the shape of a heart, and you giggled at how amazed he looked staring down at it. “How am I supposed to cut into this masterpiece? There’s absolutely no way.”

“Well, we do have to eat.” And that you both did. You dove in, the voices of the show in the background as he gushed over the pizza, and he had to agree with you that it was in fact the best he’s ever had. He told you that the pizzas back in Hawkins will now taste like cardboard compared to this masterpiece.

“Tell Pete he is a god. Like a literal god because, holy fuck.” You heard him groan in delight as he licked his fingers, wiping his hands with a napkin as he collapsed on the backrest of the couch, his eyes closed as if he were full. He only ate two slices, and Eddie was used to eating at least four. You once saw him eat a full sized pizza, claiming he hadn’t eaten anything since lunch.

“I’ll tell him.” You didn’t want to sound tense or irritated, but you were so happy to have him here and now you didn’t know if you were being selfish for wanting something more to happen, or if you were sad because nothing was happening at all, or if you were anxious and fearful of the possibility that Eddie did not like you in person, as much as he liked you online.

You grabbed the remaining pizza with the box, surprised still that there are slices left. You also didn’t eat much thanks to the nerves, something your stomach would yell at you later at night, but for now, you were afraid of puking it all out. You stood up and walked to the kitchen, opening the fridge to place the entire box in there, not wanting to deal with putting it away in tupperwares to save space.

What should you do now? Should you follow Heather’s advice and talk to him? But what if you make everything become a little more tense than what it already was now? You didn’t know what to do, and Eddie was not helping your case at all. You sighed as you washed your hands in the sink, letting the grease be washed away. You dried your hands with the kitchen cloth before walking out, seeing that Eddie was no longer on the couch.

You frowned, completely confused, until you heard the water of the sink in the bathroom. You grabbed the remote and turned off the TV, walking towards your room, where your whole setup was as well. The bed was completely pressed into a corner, your LED lights in a perfect purple hue, fairy lights in the shape of stars were lit up across the wall, holding pictures of your friends, your family, the boys back in Hawkins and Eddie. There were a lot of Eddie.

The door of the bathroom opened, and you turned to see Eddie walking towards your room, his eyes widening at the color of the room and then the yellow from the fairy lights, as if it were a purple sky with stars. He walked further in, looking at your entire PC, whistling out loud. You could only stare at his back, dressed in all black, completely contrasting with your room.

“Damn, look at this… The pictures don’t do it justice.” Your setup was big. You had three monitors, and a very well updated PC. You needed your computer to be able to have a very fast response time because of your work. Video game 3D blending required a lot from your PC so you always kept it up to date.

“It was an investment when I started my studies, but I gave my mom her money back in the first three months of my job, even if it was three years later.” You explained and he nodded, looking all around your room, for his eyes to then fall on your bed and then the pictures above it, attached to the fairy lights.

You looked at his profile as he inspected them, and your heart was bursting with need, lava from a volcano just exploding right inside it. You couldn’t hold it in. The guy in your pictures was no longer far away from you. He was no longer miles and miles away, where you could not touch him. He was in your room. He was here with you. He was standing in front of you.

“Didn’t know you hung these up…”

And you exploded.

“Why?”

His head turned to look at you, a frown appearing in his face as you stared at him. His face softened when he saw how you were looking at him. Your face was showing him distress, confusion, nervousness, and a bunch of questions that were at the tip of your tongue.

“Why what?” He asked, a nervous smile appearing on his lips and– Now you definitely know something was wrong. You could absolutely see it. You stepped forward and you saw how he stiffened in place. You didn’t know what was going on, but at least he didn’t move away from you because you were able to finally step close to him. Your head tipped back so you could properly look up at him.

“Why don’t you do something?” You saw his gulp, how his eyebrow twitched and his smile fell, and you could feel your entire inside crumble apart. Was he going to tell you now that you weren’t what he had expected? That it became way too real for him that he could barely handle it?

“Darling…”

“Am I not– You don’t like me? I– Am I not what you expected?” Your voice was small, and broken, your eyes burning with incoming tears, and his own widened, desperately reaching out for you to hold your biceps tightly, pulling himself closer to you.

“Don’t you ever think that. Not for a single damn second.” His voice was honest, rough with emotion, so now you were confused as he clenched his jaw. “You are way more than I– Than I fucking deserve to have. I have no idea how the fuck I even bagged someone like you.”

“But– But I don’t understand… You haven’t even tried to kiss me, or hold my hand… You sat so far away from me–” He closed his eyes as he took a deep breath in. You blinked for a few seconds, and… did he lie to you? “Eddie… are you… a virgin?”

“WHAT?” His voice was loud, and it startled you, making you jump in your spot. His eyes pierced your skull almost in a glare, only to then soften as a sigh escaped his lips. “For fucks sake, I am not.”

“Then I honestly don’t get it now.” You were angry. You started becoming irritable, annoyed, and you wanted answers. He took a deep breath in, leaning down to press his forehead against yours, closing his eyes. His cologne made you calm down instantly, your heart skipping a beat from having him so close to you again. The closest he’s been with you today was the hug you received when seeing each other for the first time.

“I… I won’t be able to hold back.”

You blinked completely confused a few times, looking into his eyes for answers.

“What? What do you mean by that?” He sighed as his hands moved, sending chills down your entire body. They grabbed your waist, giving it a squeeze as he found his voice again.

“I didn’t want you to think I was meeting you right now just to wet my dick… I don’t want you to think that I came to visit you just for that…”

Now you… you were enraged.

“Are you a fucking idiot, Edward?” His eyes widened as he pulled his head back to look at your face. It was all tensed up with anger, eyes staring into his with a glare.

“I– Uh… what?”

“You made me fucking doubt myself all day, thinking I wasn’t what you expected! Or that– Or that this was way too fucking real and you became scared and you regretted coming here–” Your eyes started burning once again and you hated yourself for always tearing up when you started an argument. You always felt that stupid lump in your throat, even when you were angry, you got emotional. His eyes were wide, his head shaking from side to side like crazy.

“No, no, no! I’m so sorry I made you feel like that but… it wasn’t. No… It’s– The complete opposite of that.” The room started losing that tensed up air that was filled with anger and misunderstandings, your eyes now softening as you looked at him. His face looked flushed, his eyes were now a bit dilated, looking down at you with a different gaze, one you saw many times on video call when you changed in front of him.

“Then?”

“If I kiss you… I won’t be able to hold back… That’s why I haven’t done it all day. I would have, probably, broken a million laws.” You bit your lip as you looked up at him, your body rising in temperature the more you stared up at him and he looked down at you with that hunger in his eyes you knew too well.

“Eddie… I waited for this for months… I want it too…” Your arms went up to wrap around his shoulders, nerves turning your stomach inside out but they were good nerves. They were amazing nerves. His breath hitched only to then quicken, his hands squeezing your waist once again. “And I don’t want you to hold back.”

That seemed to be his green light. What seemed to be the last string holding him to rationality, and it was literally snapped by you. His lips immediately clashed into yours, sparks flying all around you as electricity ran all over your body. Goosebumps formed on your skin and you sighed happily into the kiss. It was soft, deep, but still not moving.

He groaned into it and slowly pulled away with a smack, his breath hitting your lips, his eyes still closed. You felt his hands moving, wrapping himself around you, pulling you even closer. He pressed your body against his and you wanted to already moan with how warm he felt. You felt his lips peck yours again, and then pull away.

“Oh, fuck…” Then another peck, your bodies moving. “Fuck, sweetheart–” You didn’t know why he was cursing, yet he gave another peck, a longer one. “I’m done for.” And then one more kiss, “I’m so fucking done for.”

You finally felt your bed hit the back of your knees as his lips started moving against yours in a desperate manner. Nobody had ever kissed you like this. You’ve never felt as desired as you’re feeling right now. His hand went downwards to grab the back of your right thigh and pull it up, pressing it against his hip. His left knee then hit the bed, his other hand grabbing your other leg, and helping you up on the bed as he crawled into the middle of it with you.

Your lips never separated, not for a single moment. You were chained to him, not wanting to let go at any second, feeling like it’s a lost one if you did. Your back was pressed into the mattress, as your head clashed against your pillow. You could barely breathe as his hands left your legs after he slotted himself right in between them.

Your choice of clothes was now a pain to you. You should have put on something easier to take off, but you had chosen fucking pants. It was cold out, but it would have made this moment easier. His elbows came to rest against the mattress, one on each side of your head.

His hips still did not press against yours and you were becoming a little needy, desperate. So, you raised your hips upwards and rubbed yourself on him, making him wince against the kiss, pulling away to look down in between your bodies. You felt the bulge, the big bulge you’ve always looked at and desired to have in your hands, in your mouth and inside. He groaned as his eyes turned to yours again.

No words were exchanged as your hips were suddenly slammed into the bed again, a moan escaping your lips. He thrusted himself into you, giving you the wish of rubbing his hips against you. You sighed as your hands rubbed the back of his head, making you feel a little dizzy already. His lips immediately clashed with yours again, and you felt his hands all over you, just exploring all over your waist, hips, arms as his hips rubbed and rubbed and rubbed.

You moaned into the kiss, your body shivering when you felt the tip of his tongue entering your mouth, not even asking for permission and it wasn’t like he needed it. He didn’t. He could do whatever he wanted to you tonight. You were going to do whatever you wanted too. You both knew your likes and dislikes, what is okay and what is not. There was no need for questions or permissions.

He groaned into the kiss as you felt him twitch in his pants and against you. You clenched around nothing at all, and you wondered if you could cum by just him rubbing himself against you, because it felt like it. Your belly was burning. You were hoping you would not be able to walk after tonight, or after this entire week.

Your breathing turned heavy, your hands grabbing at his denim jacket, pulling onto it by the shoulders, and he got the message. He pulled away for a second, ripping the jacket away from himself, only to desperately drop himself back on you, kissing you hungrily once more. The clothes felt constricting now and the heat all over your body was making it feel worse. His tongue was just abusing yours in the most delicious of ways.

Eddie knew how to kiss.

Eddie kept his movements on you, up and down, circling and then some dry humping against you that was making you see stars behind your eyelids. He was driving you insane, and your thong, the red lace set you wore today, a set you bought a few days ago with this exact intention, was becoming a wet sticky mess because of this.

You wondered if you were soaking through your pants now, maybe getting the front of his wet and damp too. He was rubbing against your clit in meditated rolls, hearing where you moaned the loudest. He was paying attention to every single detail and reaction he got from you, now learning your body in person and not through a screen. It was like the practical part of an exam, the oral part having passed flawlessly.

Your hips moved with his as his right hand landed on your breast, making your back arch against him with need. You whined into the kiss, and he pulled away from you, a gasp being let out by you. You were so sensitive. The emotions were making your entire body react to the simplest of his touches.

“You are so fucking perfect.” Your mouth dropped open when his lips connected to the pulse point of your neck. His hand was still kneading your breast over your hoodie, those you loved to wear. Oversized and comfy, but right now, it was something you wanted to rip off of you as if it were burning your fucking skin.

“Eddie… Baby, I need to take it off–” He nodded desperately against you, but before leaving your neck, he gave a soft nibble with his teeth, making you whimper. He kneeled as you sat up, and before you could grab the hem of your hoodie, his hands were almost ripping it off from your body. He pulled it off of you in an instant, leaving you in just your tank top. You saw him lick his lips, and you wanted more, you needed more. Your hands instantly went to the hem of his shirt and he helped you, gladly, to take it off.

Your mouth watered as you saw the chest you’ve only been seeing through a screen for months, finally being able to touch it, kiss it and– Your tongue darted out, licking his chest in an upwards motion, your eyes closed. He threw his head back, shoving the shirt to the abyss, he didn’t care. Your hands scanned his sides, fingertips gliding against the skin, feeling him tense up and his chest hitch when your lips gave a kiss to it.

He growled, cradling your cheeks in his hands, making you look up at him in a quick and rough motion you didn’t dislike, but it made you stop your kisses and kitten licks against his chest, over his tattoos. His lips crashed against yours again, deep and desperate only to then be pushed back down on the bed. He was towering over you, chest moving up and down rapidly, his eyes looking down at the button of your jeans. You gulped as you moved your hips to signal him he could move.

So he did. His hands instantly rushed to rip the button open and pull the fly down. Your nerves started coming back as he crawled backwards and he started tugging at your jeans, pulling them down and off your body desperately. Off they went, including your socks and then you felt your legs wanting to close but– You had prepared yourself for this. You should let him look, so you kept them spread. Once his eyes turned to look at you again, they were instantly glued to the red lace covering the wet heaven he had wanted to touch and taste for so long.

“Oh, and it’s all for me, isn’t it sweetheart?” His voice was deep, rough and sultry and it was as if he wasn’t really asking you, but more like he was reassuring himself in fact like he said. And it was.

“Mhm~ All of it, Eds…” Your voice small, pretending shyness, that shyness that drove him insane. You heard a growl coming from him, his clouded eyes still staring down at your moving hips, waiting for him to do something. You clenched around nothing when he roughly grabbed the back of your knees and pulled them apart even more, and away.

“Let me taste this pussy that’s been driving me crazy for fucking months.” Your breathing hitched at the possessiveness he was talking with. His hands moved and his arms hugged your thighs as his body lowered, his stomach pressing against the mattress as his face came to stare at your throbbing slit, and he could see how wet the lace was. How drenched and dark the fabric had gotten.

You couldn’t even process his words that your mouth was falling in a silent ‘o’, his mouth latching on the thong like a leech. Sucking and licking on it and if it felt good like this, how would you feel when he uncovers it? Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as he kept licking pointedly into where your slit was, digging the fabric into it a bit.

Then he rode the tongue upwards, the pointy licks now against your clit, making you moan, letting the breath out of your lungs. Your body started feeling the heat travelling all over, and you should have touched yourself or something before he came over because you’re pretty sure you’re going to cum any second.

He pulled away, his fingers grabbing onto the elastic of your thong, and he kneeled up to pull them down your legs. You helped him do just that and he smirked when he saw the little string of your wetness disconnecting from your center. That’s how wet you were. His jaw clenched when he finally got the thong off, but this one, he made sure to see where it landed, planning on taking it back with him. Probably frame it.

Your legs now did close while his head was turned, your knees together and leaning your way. You felt a little more exposed now, you couldn’t help it. It’s been a while since you had sex in general, this would happen no matter what. The shyness, the embarrassment. But when Eddie turned his head back around, he shook his head, glaring down at you.

“I’m having none of that.” His hands roughly grabbed onto your knees and he spread them apart, your center opening up for him, and you just flushed all over, feeling embarrassed but more aroused than ever. He was a starved man, no, animal. He was staring down at it as if it were the answer to all of his prayers. His body moved downwards, in the same position he was before, but this time, his hands gripped your inner thighs, keeping your legs spread.

He was going to make sure to taste you completely.

His tongue darted out, finally pressing it against you, making you jerk upwards, completely taken aback by how good it felt and it was a simple press of the tongue. You were done for tonight. He hummed and moaned as he tasted you, and then–

“Fuck– Oh– Fuck!” Your voice was loud, your breathing loud as in one single moment Eddie was just looking at you after tasting you, and the next his mouth and tongue were everywhere. He sucked on your clit, kissed it, the tip of his tongue doing stripes in your center, up and down, teasing you about entering it.

He was all over you, his fingers digging into your flesh, not caring if he leaves a mark, and if he does, good. Your head was thrown back into the pillow as he flicked his tongue back and forth on your clit, your hands flying to grab onto his head. He was still moaning, hips rutting into the mattress just by eating you out. You were absolutely delicious and he probably won’t get enough of you at all.

“Better than what I imagined. So fucking sweet.” He hummed into you, and you felt your body start trembling, the pleasure making up a fog in your mind you hadn’t felt in so long. Suddenly, your eyes widened, feeling his tongue going inside, his nose hitting your clit as he made nodding moves with his head and his tongue moved around inside of you.

“Eddie– Eddie, baby, oh my god–” Your breathing was heavy, moaning his name out as if it were a god, and to you, he was one right now. Your belly clenched and burned and you could feel your climax creeping in by the minute. Eddie was happy to keep ravishing you, to keep tasting you, to keep making you fall apart.

You felt one of his hands leave your inner thigh as well as his mouth, letting the air hit you and then a sharp breath, making your wetness become cold, a whimper ripping out of your throat. He chuckled as he saw your hips jerk from the air he blew, and then you tensed up when you felt his finger running through your slit to coat it with your juices. And then he entered. You wished he hadn’t taken his rings off to eat that pizza. You wanted those inside of you, he wanted them inside of you. He had told you as such.

His mouth bit the inside of your inner thigh as he kept moving his middle finger inside of you, feeling your warmth around him. Your back arched as he bit, and a moan ripped away from your throat. Your hands now gripped the pillow under your head, right by the edges. He started pumping his finger, in and out of you, and you were in bliss as you moaned his name in order to ground yourself in the moment.

So many fantasies in your head, of him touching you, of him moving on you, of his fingers entering you and making you see galaxies. You could only guess Eddie would be good with his fingers just by the fact that he played guitar. And, he was probing that fact right now and with just a single finger.

He sucked on your skin as his eyes kept looking at how his finger glistened whenever it was pulled out of you. His hips kept rubbing against your mattress, the creaking of it ringing in his ears just by you moving your hips against his hand. He growled as he got his ring finger inside as well, and he finally curled his fingers inside of you. Your eyes widened, your head thrown back as you felt him inspect you, looking for something, rubbing and circling and wiggling and–

“OH–” Your hips jerked upwards at one particular movement. He quickly pressed his free hand on your hip, pushing you down to keep you in place, a smirk spreading on his lips.

“Found you.” Your body was combusting into itself as he kept abusing that part inside of you that no one ever bothered to find. No one ever bothered to look for it and you were feeling your body about to snap the more he rubbed his fingers against it. You were sure you were going to cum soon as you felt your belly start to turn, clench inside of you, and your walls fluttered around his fingers. There’s nothing that could make this better–

Except his tongue latching onto your clit as his fingers never stopped moving. You’ve never felt like this. Your hips were moving by themselves against him, needing more, and your moans were so loud that you were glad you had rented out a very thick walled apartment complex. You were probably heard anyways, but you honestly could care less right now.

He was sucking and biting on you and your body thrashed around as you kept your mouth open. Heavy breaths and moans escaping you without any restraint, not being able to feel anything else but the pleasure your boyfriend was giving you. Then, the stars slowly started to appear as your walls clenched and unclenched in warning.

“Ed– Eddie– I’m gonna–”

“Yes, fuck yes, cum for me. I’ve been waiting for it, cum for me.” And that was all the green light you needed as you back arched off your bed, your head turning to the side as your eyes clenched tightly, holding the pillow in a death grip and making it cover your mouth to try to stifle your sounds a little bit more. You clenched all around him, your orgasm crashing on you like a trainwreck, your belly just contorting into itself as you felt him quicken his movements, riding your orgasm out.

You were gasping as your body remained tensed up, the loud squelching of his movements becoming louder thanks to how wet you became as you came and you came and you came because it felt never ending. You didn’t even notice his mouth was no longer on you, his upper body hovering over you as his right hand kept moving inside of you as he held himself up with the other one against the mattress, right next to your head.

He was looking at your contorted face. A face he’s seen multiple times on camera, on pictures you especially took for him. You started to unclench as your body slowly relaxed, twitched every other second thanks to the aftershocks of your orgasm. It was the best and biggest one you ever had. You felt him stop his movements, slowly, until then he pulled out, making you sigh.

Your eyes opened, blinking a few times to center yourself and then you turned your head to see him looking down at you. You realized he had stared at you during your climax and you felt a little embarrassed but you couldn’t even speak that you saw the fingers that were inside of you come into your vision, your breath heavy as you stared at all the juices that were on them. His eyes went towards them, the wetness moving down his palm, towards his wrist.

His tongue darted out to lick it away, from his wrist to his fingers before putting them into his mouth to taste you again. He moaned into them, closing his eyes, and your own were wide at how filthy everything was, yet so deliciously amazing. He got his fingers out of his lips with a pop and then he looked down at you once again after opening his eyes once more, wiping his mouth with the back of his hand.

“Delicious. You’re so fucking perfect… So perfect.” You whined at his praise, your hands reaching out, arms wrapping around his shoulders as he leaned back down, kissing you desperately. You tasted yourself in his mouth, on his tongue, and it was all a little intoxicating. But, even if your body twitched, trembled, you needed more. You were not satisfied. Your thighs closed on his hips as he pressed himself against you again.

You wanted him so much, so much that it was a little bit frightening to you. Now, it was your turn to become an animal. You used your strength to signal him you wanted to turn him. He followed your directions, letting himself fall and roll you two in a different position. You were now straddling him, chest against his as you kissed him desperately. He chased after you when you pulled away and sat back onto him. Your eyes were darkened, pupils fully dilated as your hips moved against his bulge and he hissed, his head rolling against your pillow.

“You like that, baby?” You asked sweetly, and he groaned, nodding desperately. You bit your lip as you grabbed onto the hem of your tanktop and you ripped it off your body in just one second. His eyes were now glued to the matching red bra you had on.

“Oh fuck… Please tell me you took a picture of yourself in this…” He asked, making you smirk and you had in fact taken one… or more. And maybe a video.

“If you behave, I’ll think about sending those to you.” He bit his bottom lips as his hips jerked upwards and you knew you were staining his jeans, but he didn’t care, nor did you. Not when you were about to take them off. You moved backwards, your eyes falling to his belt. Your hands undid it as quickly as they could. You were breathing rather heavily still, and if you had your tongue out, you bet you would be drooling with anticipation, knowing what was under these pants and boxers.

Once the button and zipper were undone as well, it was your turn to take the pants off, but you added his boxers in the mix, killing two birds with one stone. Your patience was wearing thin right now, and you couldn’t handle wasting any more time with him. He helped you rip the rest of his clothes off, throwing his pants and boxers off and you almost fell back from how desperate you were.

You heard the thud of his clothes on the floor and then your eyes finally saw it. Oh, pictures and videos did it no justice. Your mouth watered as your eyes looked at every detail, the veins, the tip, the length, the girth… the tattoo. The fucking tattoo on the underside of his cock. Fuck. You were sure you’re getting wetter again just by looking at him. You didn’t notice how Eddie’s eyes were looking at you as he held himself up on his elbows.

He saw the lust filled look in your eyes, and he could swear he saw your pupils turn into literal hearts as you sighed happily, your hands rubbing on his thighs as you slowly leaned down. His breathing hitched, a broken breath being taken in. Your eyes didn’t leave it for a single second. You were fascinated. You kept your ass up as your upper body lowered more and more. Your nails dragged across his belly when you finally reached the height you needed to have him right in front of your eyes.

Your tongue licked your lips to moisten them, getting them ready to finally taste what you’ve been craving for so long. You gave his tip a tentative kiss, making it twitch instantly. He wanted to throw his head back but he needed to watch you. He needed to engrave this to memory. He is sparing this time because it’s your first time with each other… but he will throw it on the table the next day.

He wants to record you just like this, and much more.

Your tongue lolled out now, your hand coming to grip it to keep it steady as you passed your tongue along the shaft, towards the tip. You heard Eddie groan loudly, wanting to jerk his hips upwards in you, but holding himself back from doing so, letting you have your own moment. Your lips finally closed on his tip, and his body shivered underneath you.

You closed your eyes as you moaned with delight, just sucking the tip of his length to then pop it out. You suddenly spat on it, so you could lube it up in order for your hand to help you in those places you couldn’t reach with your mouth.

“Fucking christ…” You heard him curse with a hiss and you wanted to laugh cockily at him, but you didn’t want to ruin the moment. You finally guided him into your mouth, your movements slow, tongue swirling around him as you went. Maybe it was your imagination going a little wild, but somehow he tasted so good, and you blamed the tattoo for it, as if it were an exotic spice.

He gulped with a sigh, his elbows slowly starting to give up on him the more you moved your head. Your movements quickened, the noise of slurping being added into the mix and you could feel him falling onto the bed with a thud. His hands came to lay on the sheets, gripping onto them so he wouldn’t grab your head, not wanting to force you. His eyes rolled to the back of his head and you finally heard him moan your name. Sigh it out.

That was one of the most beautiful sounds you’ve ever heard. You had heard him before, but it was different in real life. It was his voice. In real time. No interference or internet filter to cover it or mess with his vocal chords. It prompted you to move quicker, play with your tongue against his frenulum, making him whimper and jerk his hips into your mouth, making him gasp when you gagged slightly.

“Shit– Are you okay–?” His head looked down, worry shining through the lust, only to find you smiling as you looked at his cock, before going back in. He chuckled in amazement and it was his go to grab your head with his right hand, just letting it sit there as you did your own pace and movements.

You liked it. You liked the roughness, you had told him you didn’t mind soft and sweet, but you preferred rough and desperate. He is surely giving you that tonight. Your mouth was quick on him, and you could taste some precum in your tongue as you did so. You moaned into it, sending vibrations that made him moan and shiver underneath you.

“Mmmh–” You popped him out of your mouth to then lick his entire length and he sighed your name until he felt the tip of your tongue running on him, and suddenly he chuckled in awe once more.

“Sweetheart, you’re fucking tracing my tattoo with your tongue?” You were in a trance as you kept doing it, giving a dumb little nod. “Shit, that’s so fucking hot–”

“Been wanting to do this for so long… Wanted to trace it–” His resolve broke that second, wondering how many times had you imagined this and dreamed of it. His fingers snaked in your hair, deep, and then he gripped your scalp, making you whimper. The pain was nothing, it only added to the pleasure and it made you tremble as he was on his elbow, looking down at you.

“Think you can be a good girl for me and take me all?” You nodded desperately, looking at him with those eyes he fell for. Puppy eyes. He guided you towards the tip and you opened your mouth instantly, letting him go back into your warmth. Your hands stayed on his thighs, and his free hand gripped the sheets tightly, guiding you further and further and then– he controlled your movements.

He made you bob your head on him, up and down, setting the rhythm himself and you didn’t mind him. You clenched around nothing when you started feeling him hit the back of your throat. You relaxed, knowing what was going to come next and then you breathed through your nose. Once he heard you take a deep intake of breath, he pushed you down, slowly, but roughly.

Your eyes teared up as you finally felt him down your throat. Your nose was deep into his hairs, something he trimmed but kept because you told him you liked it. You breathed through your nose as you focused on not gagging. You moaned into it knowing it would send vibrations to him, causing him to moan your name, feeling his hips move underneath you with need.

But you could hold on for so long, your body slightly jerking as your throat closed on him. The gag making Eddie pull you back up and get himself out of your mouth. He looked at your fucked out face as tears ran down your cheeks, and drool was slipping out the corner of your mouth. Seeing it live was making him feel a little dizzy, and your clouded eyes were not being any help.

You couldn’t wait anymore, your body climbing up on him as he let go of your hair, his hand falling to your hip as your dripping cunt rubbed against his length, right over the tattoo. He sighed, his eyes closing for a second as he enjoyed the friction, the warmth of you. Your hands went to your back, unhooking the bra open. At the sound, Eddie’s eyes found you, taking the straps down your arms, and your last piece of clothing was long gone.

“Oh, fuck sweetheart–”

“Eddie, can I? Please–” Your voice was desperate, whiny, and your hips kept moving back and forth on him, whimpering each time your clit rubbed against his shaft. His eyes were focused on your breasts, his fingertips digging into your skin, and then he nodded quickly, giving you the go.

You smiled, delighted. Your hips raised up enough for you to get your hand in between the two of you. Your hand grabbed onto his cock, guiding him to your entrance, which was so ready to receive him. You two had gotten tested, knowing what was going to transpire the moment you met, and you were so glad you were on birth control to regulate your cycle. This way, you can feel him completely. Raw. You started sinking down, your mouth falling open as his tip started to stretch you, then the rest and, fuck–

“Holy fuck, holy shit–” He was cursing as he looked between your bodies, seeing himself disappear inside of you as your face was still in a contorted state of pleasure. Your voice was gone as you kept sinking down, and you couldn’t wait how it felt to have him bottom out inside of you. You already felt full, and you barely went halfway down on him. It wasn’t even painful, thanks to his prep, to your orgasm, the one he caused.

Finally, you slammed down on him, a loud slap bursting in your ears at your skin hitting his. He choked on a moan at bottoming out inside of you while you trembled in ecstasy, your eyes rolling to the back of your head as your nails scratched on his chest for support. Your breathing was heavy, and Eddie could finally refocus on you once more. You were adjusting to him, your head moving back to look down at him, your mouth still letting out breaths that drove him insane.

He was about to talk, only for you to start moving, lifting yourself up to then slam back down, a moan finally escaping your lips as a groan left his. His hands were gripping your waist as if his life depended on it. He felt so good inside of you, just like you always knew he would feel like. He fit perfectly, and you certainly have no idea how you will survive when you don’t have him anymore with you.

Your hips kept moving, going up and down, your tempo rising, the slamming of your hips against his turning louder as he hit deeper. Your moans filled the room, the strain on your legs nonexistent as the pleasure overtook you. The air grew thick thanks to your breath and his, the purple hue making him look ethereal underneath you, his eyes half-lidded as he sighed out in each slam.

It was desperate, it was dirty, the squelching of your pussy against his pelvis, knowing your juices were making a mess out of it. You waited far too long for this and you were going to enjoy every single second of it. His hands moved to get a hold of your breasts as you bounced on him, as you rode the soul out of him.

“Look at you sweetheart– Fucking look at you…” You whined at his words, your eyes closed as he hit you in that sweet spot you adored, your nippled getting in between his fingers for him to pinch and roll. Whimpers and moans leaving your lips at each shock of pleasure, and each time you came down, your clit would brush against his pubes.

“Eds– You feel so good, so damn good–” He grinned at your praise, a thin sheer layer of sweat appearing all over his body as he played with you however he wanted. Suddenly you slammed your hips against him, changing your movements to go back and forth, a gasp leaving your throat and your nails digging into his chest.

“You feel good, baby?” He asked smugly, containing his moans in as he saw you lean back, his hands falling to your middle, while your hands gripped his knees. Your clit kept brushing against him as his cock inside you kept slapping your g-spot. Your movements were fast, hips just swaying like a dance and your mouth remained open in the entirety of it. You nodded dumbly, your head falling backwards as you stared at your ceiling, feeling your eyes burn in pleasure.

“Uh huh, uh huh–” You couldn’t even form words as your belly coiled, twisted on its own. His eyes fell closed, head thrown back into the pillow as you just used him to your liking. Your movements slowed and your head went back to looking at him, your hips changing rhythm as you swayed them in circles and you raised them just a little, moving back down slowly on him. A huff left him as he noticed the change, his eyes opening again to stare at your form.

You were possessed. You didn’t even recognize yourself, never once thinking you would act this way when meeting him. You knew you would be needy, but never this. Never this animalistic. The creaking of your bed was loud, now noticing it just as you noticed your legs growing tired, the trembling evident, but you didn’t want to stop this feeling. Eddie noticed of course, sitting up so he could embrace you, his mouth immediately latching onto your right nipple.

Your arms immediately enclosed around his frame, hands digging into his hair as he rolled your sensitive nipple between his teeth, to then tug at it. You gasped between your moans as he let go of it, and then you let a breath out when he laid back on the bed, pulling you with him, your chest now against him. He chuckled with a breath, planting his feet on the bed, raising his hips upwards.

“My turn, isn’t it?” And the world became non-existent when his hips started slamming up into you, the slapping of skin loud enough for the people living at the very corner of the street to hear, your moans loud enough for the moon to listen to.

His movements were rough, quick, his hands gripping your body to keep you in place and for him to have leverage. His breaths were quick, a curse and your name escaping him here and there, your headboard hitting your wall, and you were certain you would have a noise complaint in the early morning, but that was a problem for the two of you in the future.

“Fuckfuckfuckfuck!” You whined as his balls also slapped against you, and you knew tears were falling from your eyes as he kept thrusting, rutting into you. He grunted into your ear, his teeth nipping at your earlobe, which only made you whimper against him. Suddenly he slammed his hips into you, slow and deep, to then repeat the action, and then again.

He growled in each one, and then his hips stopped moving, still inside you, hips attached. You were both panting messes, drool dripping from your mouth from keeping it open all this while, falling onto the pillow and right beside his head. He lowered his hips, making you follow immediately, hitting the mattress once again.

“You alright, darling?” He asked breathlessly and you smiled, nodding against him, which only elicited a smug grin on his lips. “Good, because I’m nowhere done with you.”

Your world was flipped, him having turned you both, his body on top of you once again, and his lips crashed into yours. Immediate tongues and teeth clashing, your moans into his throat and his in yours. He groaned as he slowly started moving his hips into yours once again, the fire having never left you, nor did for him. His mouth was still in your ear as he kept talking to you, softly, in a rough whisper–

“You want to know what I had to do before getting off the plane?” His words were barely processing in your head, but you still understood him as his ministrations inside of you never stopped. You shook your head, but he was not having it. “Talk.”

“W-What?” You asked and he tutted, relishing in having turned you into a cockdrunk mess.

“What…?”

“What– Fuck, what did you do?” He hummed in approval, his breath hot in your ear, and if you thought this man couldn’t turn you on more than he was already, even when fucking you senseless, you were wrong.

“I had to jack off in the plane’s bathroom before landing.” You gasped as his hips rutted deep inside you, grunting into your ear before he continued. “I wouldn’t have lasted if I didn’t.”

You felt your belly burning, a moan escaping your lips with his name etched in it like a prayer. He chuckled through a huff, his movements still slow and meditated, his lips finding your neck once more, sucking on your skin to leave his mark. He was sure to mark you all up before he left, from head to toe, for everyone in your state to know you belonged to someone, that you belonged to him.

He will trace and retrace, leave your skin in red and purple markings. First mark? A necklace for your neck. So he continued moving, sucking onto your skin and biting onto it as he went from one side to another as you became a mess under him. Your nails were scratching the back of his neck, his back, reciprocating the marking in your own way. He could feel it, and he was going to proudly show it off before they fade away, going to make sure to prepare a gig so he could rip his shirt off in front of everyone so they could see.

His lips left your skin, his hands planting on the mattress on each side of your head to push himself up to admire his work. Your eyes were half lidded, completely blown out as your breaths left your pretty lips. A perfect necklace of hickies around your neck that looked way too good on you, a grin appearing on his lips.

“Perfect… Fucking perfect.” With those words, your arms fell to the sides as he slowly kneeled up, his hands running all over your body, creating goosebumps on your skin despite how hot you felt. He then gripped your waist, tightly, and you saw how his smile fell, his chest moving up and down in heavy breaths and then–

He started railing into you like a madman. More creaks. More slapping of skin. More squelching. More cries of pleasure leaving you as he abused your insides in the most delicious and addicting of ways. Your hands coming to grip the pillow underneath your head once again, your legs spread as you saw them bounce back and forth as he moaned over you.

“Uh– Ed– Eds!” He loved to hear his name coming out of your mouth like this. He can’t wait to record you, stash this in his secured folder in his phone for his use when he returns to Hawkins. His fringe was surely sticking to his forehead from the force of his movements, but he couldn’t stop. He wasn’t going to stop, not when you were a blabbering fucking mess.

You saw his contorted face, the pleasure just written all over it, the desperation. Your whole entire self was putty, letting him use you, letting him take whatever he wanted from you and you were enjoying it. You were loving it. You were loving him. You gasped when you started feeling that pressure in your belly grow, the climax building inside of you and Eddie could feel it the second your walls fluttered around him.

“Where is it?” He breathlessly asked and you didn’t even know if he said something until his movements stopped and a hand grabbed your cheeks, puckering your lips to catch your attention. His face was suddenly inches from yours. “I asked, where is it, darling.”

“Wha–?” You were so confused, your hips swaying so he would keep moving but his hips were grounded against you as he shook his head at you, his grip tightening around your face.

“Where’s the vibrator?” That little pink thing he saw you use millions of times, and you were trying to process his words in your head, your hand moving shakily towards your night table. He let go of your face so he could reach over, almost ripping the drawer open and he instantly saw it. He grabbed it, your eyes following his movements as they slowly widened, knowing what he was going to do. He smirked your way, licking his bottom lip as his finger pressed on the ‘on’ button, the little but powerful bullet vibrator coming to life.

“Eddie…” You called to him as he kneeled up, sitting back on his calves, his left hand still gripping your waist tightly as his right one held your vibrator, his eyes stuck on it.

“Intense little fucker, no wonder it’s your favorite to use, baby.” He gave it a kiss, sending a tremble all over your body, “Arch your back.”

You followed his instructions, and even if tired, you planted your feet on the bed, arching your back upwards. His hips started moving again, your hands gripping the pillow tightly once more as you whined, your mouth closed this time. The headboard started to slowly bang against the wall once more the more he picked up speed and your mind was gone.

It felt even deeper than before, more intense, and the position was making your spongy spot be hit perfectly in each thrust. He huffed in each one, trying to control his breathing as you moaned loud ‘ah ah ah’s’, and then, a cry was ripped from you when the vibrator was placed on your clit, your eyes widening at the sensation.

“You’re such a dream, so perfect for me, made for me–” He grunted as your body trembled underneath him, your orgasm now building at a quick and desperate pace. You would be surprised if you weren’t screaming his name.

“So good! Fuck– It’s so fucking good! Keep– Keep going, pleasepleaseplease–” You were begging, as if he were to even think of stopping. He felt you fluttering and clenching all around him, making him growl and grunt, your name slipping from his lips. He could feel his own climax reaching close now, but he was going to feel you one more time. He rolled the vibrator around your clit, flicking it against you as the hand on your waist helped you keep yourself arched against him.

“Yeah baby, scream my fucking name, come on–” He was touching heaven right now, the more you talked, the more you cried out, the more you clenched around him. Drool out of your mouth, tears out of your eyes, that fucking necklace he put around your neck. It will go so well with his pick necklace.

“Eddie– Eddie– Eddie, please!” You kept begging and begging the more you felt yourself tipping over the edge. The creaking of your bed and the banging of the headboard falling to deaf ears, only your moans and his, the vibrator and the slapping of skin the only sounds heard between these four walls.

“I know, baby, I know. Let go, come on, you can do it for me– Be a good girl, come on–” The praise was what sent you off, your face turning just like it did last time to muffle your moan, your cry, your yelp, as your body arched into him, your walls clenching around his cock, tighter than they did the first time. It prompted him to stop his movements, a loud grunt being heard from him as you saw stars behind your eyelids.

He could only rut his hips into you to help you ride your orgasm, keeping the vibrator to your clit, making your body convulse in ecstasy. He could feel his own body tensing up, the tightness making it impossible for him to hold himself back. He felt you slowly unclench around him, your body twitching against him. Once he knew he could move again, your insides now so smooth to glide into, his need for release made him go feral.

Your vibrator was thrown to the side, and he was panting as he leaned over you, letting your back touch the mattress once again. His hands gripped the top of your headboard as your body was folded, your hips now lifting from your mattress one more time, your body already sore, but he had to cum. He needed to cum. You needed to feel him inside of you, because you would let him mark you inside and out.

His hips slammed against you, jerking you upwards, a yelp coming out of your lips from overstimulation. He grunted in each thrust, your breath knocked out of your lungs as he did it slowly, yet rough. Slam. Slam. Slam.

“I’m– I’m gonna cum– I’m going to fill you up so good, jesus fucking christ–” And all it took was one last slam before he let himself sit inside of you, his eyes clenching tightly as he came, a moan escaping your lips as you felt him and then–

CRACK.

His hands slid from the headboard as you both suddenly dropped, a gasp escaping you. A choked breath left your lips the moment you two bounced, his body almost falling over you if it weren’t for his elbows that planted on each side of your head, your hips falling back down. Your heart was beating out of your throat, your lungs compressed from the scare and adrenaline.

What had just happened? You shivered when Eddie shuddered, a last spurt being shot inside of you. You were both panting, his face coming to meet yours after he looked around at what had happened.

“Sweetheart, did– did we just break your bed?” And you realised your mattress was now on top of broken boards, hinges, and your headboard was a little wobbly, holding onto the side rails that enclosed your mattress. You blinked a few times as your arms held onto Eddie, and then–

You laughed through your exhaustion, through the adrenaline, through the remainder of your climaxes, and he followed right behind you. Breathless laughs, gulping from the sudden realization of how dry your throats were, but the giggles never stopped. Your mind was now clearer thanks to the scare, thanks to how incredible it was that you two had managed to break your slats, despite the seller telling you they were very strong and sturdy.

“We… We did…” You replied through heavy breaths, huffs of laughter escaping you through them and he chuckled on top of you, his bun now a mess, to the point it was almost coming off.

“I’ll get you a new one… holy fuck…” You shook your head with a smile as you held his face, guiding him into a soft kiss this time, your heart bursting with giddiness.

“No, it’s okay…” He smiled down at you, all teeth, and pecked your lips once again, his breath hitting your face, strong exhales coming from his nose. He pulled away, and his eyes were just wide with amusement as you smiled up at him.

“Oof.” He sighed to then smile down at you. “Well, that was the biggest workout I had in a while.” You giggled, giving him a nod in understanding, your chest still heaving as you caught your breath.

“I can agree with you on that one…” You reached up to put a strand of hair behind his ear, a content smile on your face, not being able to hide your happiness despite your body aching all over. He huffed one more time, kissing the tip of your nose before he started to slowly pull out of you. You both groaned at the feeling, realizing how sensitive the two of you were. He sighed one more time, his eyes falling onto your center. They widened as he pulled himself up, almost falling over from how wobbly his legs were, making you laugh in confusion as you pulled yourself up with a whimper, but he stopped you.

“Stay there! Do not move.” He stepped over the side rails, once again, almost falling over. He grabbed his phone from the pocket of his jacket, and you could see his tongue poking out of his lips as he came back to you, his camera pointing directly at your pussy. Your eyes were wide with embarrassment, wanting to close your legs on him. “Nuh uh, no.”

“What are you doing!?”

“I am not missing the opportunity to take a picture out of this!” He smiled with victory as he snapped the photo and then looked at it. “Best Valentine's ever!”

He then showed it to you and you gasped as you saw his cum dripping out of you, and you immediately sat up properly, to then get up to clench your legs together, making him laugh.

“Not funny! It’s running down!”

The following events were funny, domestic even. You two went to the bathroom as Eddie apologized, lying of course, while you sat on the toilet waiting for every single drop of him to fall down into it. You both then washed yourselves with a wet washcloth each because you were too tired to take a shower. A slap being given at Eddie for the hickies, the extremely unhideable hickies, he left on your neck. A brush of teeth and deciding to just go to bed naked, Eddie’s suggestion with a wiggle of eyebrows.

“Easier access for when we wake up tomorrow.” You had smacked him on top of the head and while you got some water bottles from the kitchen, he had pulled the broken slats from underneath the mattress.

After finally hydrating yourselves again, and maybe eating another slice of pizza, even though you brushed your teeth minutes ago, you were finally laying on his chest as a new comforter covered both of you because the other one had to be desperately washed now… maybe even burned.

You sighed in contentment as you traced figures on his chest, your heart beating rapidly as he kept his arm around you, the other one on the back of his head, smiling at your ceiling. The purple hue in your room thanks to the led lights making it a calm atmosphere for the two of you now, instead of horny animals.

Your mouth opened and closed as you debated your next words. Should you? Would he run off? Would he get scared? Was it too soon? Maybe it was, but you needed to get the words out of your system before you exploded with them. The actions that had just transpired made your feelings just burst and grow tenfold than what they already were.

But he deserved it. He deserved every single word.

“Eds…”

“Mmm?” He was still smiling, his breathing now calm, relaxed, and your eyes clenched as you pressed your head even more into his chest.

“I love you.”

Silence. His body tensed all over, you could feel it underneath your palm, your body that was draped against his side. You fucked up. You did, didn’t you? You ruined it. You ruined his visit, the moment, the relationship, by simply moving too fast.

Yet, both his arms came to squish you close to him, eliciting an ‘oof’ from your part as he knocked the breath out of your lungs. He was hugging you, tightly, rocking the both of you with happiness, almost giggling with it.

“You fucking beat me to it! I was supposed to say it first! I was mustering the courage just now.” He replied and your eyes widened for a second as you processed his words, a smile bursting in your lips as you held him close, feeling the need to cry out of joy, sadness, and with hope.

“Then say it back, you idiot.” You claimed and he chuckled, moving so he could be facing you, both of you on your sides now. His hand came to trace your cheek softly, adoringly, as if he was etching your features into memory.

“I love you, my goddess.” There was a blush on his cheeks as he said it, and you knew he meant every word. You felt heat rush to your own cheeks, still smiling at him with devotion. He licked his lips nervously as he stuttered his next words. “Y-You know… Virginia doesn’t… look that bad.”

You were taken aback by his words and– Was he saying…

“Are you… implying you want to move… here?” You asked, your eyes wide, and now you realize Eddie had been having the same fears as you were. Moving too fast. In the eyes of strangers it might be, but after having him here with you… it didn’t feel fast at all.

“I mean– It’s a little too soon, and I need to… check finances and… get a new job and all… but, well– Gotta start thinking about it, you know.” He was looking down, trying to avoid your gaze. You really wanted to cry now. You never expected that playing a game would end in this situation. You smiled warmingly as your hand rested on his cheek, making him look at you once again.

“Mmm… I think that Charleston in West Virginia sounds… good.” He frowned and you knew he was confused. You remembered how Eddie told you he failed senior year twice, so maybe you had to be more specific. “It’s right in between Indiana and Virginia…”

His face softened, a warm smile appearing and his left hand rubbing your waist lovingly. You were making sure you both had equal distance between your family and friends. A distance where you probably didn’t need a plane ticket to visit. He gave you a nod, pulling you closer for his nose to touch yours.

“Then we better start planning, sweetheart.”

And that you did plan.

end

a/n: i just think that long distance eddie would be as feral as a rabid dog when meeting his partner for the first time ever. pls reblog, don't just like

divider by @thecutestgrotto

#eddie munson #eddie munson x reader #stranger things #eddie munson fanfic #eddie munson smut #eddie munson x you #eddie munson fanfiction #eddie munson fics #eddie munson x y/n #stranger things fic #eddie munson imagine #eddie munson one shot #eddie munson x female reader #eddie munson x fem!reader smut #eddie munson x fem!reader fluff #stranger things fanfiction

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aspenmissing · 3 days ago

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Hi! If you're up for angst, can I pls request Arcane characters (including Jayvik) with their s/o *nearly* dying from childbirth? Maybe the whole pregnancy was fine, but during the birth their s/o started bleeding out, or an embolism? (Anything complications you think will add to the emotions is fine ^^)

I feel like this would def be an unplanned pregnancy considering the characters, but it wouldn't be an unwelcome one as they love their s/o so much. Also, childbirth causing possible death yet needed to bring life into the world, is such an interesting contrast that the characters would feel so deeply. Esp as their s/o nearly dies during the ordeal.

I love your writing and the way you craft scenarios so throughly for each character ❤️✨ Thank you!!

ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ ꜰᴏʀ ʙʀᴇᴀᴛʜ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ-ɪꜱʜ/ᴀɴɢꜱᴛ || 8428 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ᴘʀᴇɢɴᴀɴᴄʏ, ᴄʜɪʟᴅʙɪʀᴛʜ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ɴᴇᴀʀ ᴄʜɪʟᴅ ᴅᴇᴀᴛʜ, ʙʟᴏᴏᴅ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ʜᴇʟʟᴏ ᴍʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴠᴇʟᴠᴇᴛ! ᴀɴᴅ ᴛʜᴀɴᴋ ʏᴏᴜ ᴠᴇʀʏ ᴍᴜᴄʜ! ɪ ᴛʀʏ ᴛᴏ ᴍᴀᴋᴇ ɪᴛ ꜰɪᴛ ᴛʜᴇ ᴄʜᴀʀᴀᴄᴛᴇʀ ᴀꜱ ᴄʟᴏꜱᴇ ᴀꜱ ᴘᴏꜱꜱɪʙʟᴇ ᴡɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ ᴍᴀᴋɪɴɢ ᴛʜᴇᴍ ʙᴇ ᴀ ᴅɪᴄᴋ (ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ). ꜱᴏ ɪ ᴅᴏ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏ ᴛʜɪꜱ, ᴀɴᴅ ɪ ʜᴏᴘᴇ ʏᴏᴜ ʜᴀᴠᴇ ᴀɴ ᴀᴍᴀᴢɪɴɢ ᴅᴀʏ/ɴɪɢʜᴛ! <3

JAYCE

The soft glow of the moonlight filtered through the curtains as Jayce sat next to Y/N's bed, watching her sleep. Her pregnancy had been nothing short of perfect. Every doctor’s visit had been smooth, her health had been impeccable, and the baby growing inside her was a constant reminder of the life they were about to bring into the world. They hadn’t planned on having a child so soon, but as the months passed, the excitement and joy they felt grew beyond anything they could have imagined. They spent months preparing, laughing together, and even arguing over names for the baby, but the closer they got to the due date, the more Jayce found himself watching Y/N with a nervous tenderness he couldn’t shake.

He had always been a man of science, of logic, but nothing in his life had ever felt more fragile than this moment. Y/N, the woman he loved, carrying their child, and the realization that the fragile beauty of life could slip away in an instant.

The day arrived with the usual excitement. The contractions started slowly, and Y/N smiled, grabbing his hand with a calmness that only made his heart race more. Everything felt normal. Jayce held her hand through every wave, his eyes full of love and admiration, telling her how proud he was of her.

Hours passed. The hospital room was quiet except for the sound of medical staff moving around, checking Y/N, and adjusting monitors. Jayce stood beside her, his heart full of hope, his mind trying to remain calm.

But something changed. The monitors beeped, and suddenly there was urgency in the air. Y/N’s face contorted with pain, and Jayce’s eyes widened as he looked at the doctors.

“What's happening?” he asked, his voice breaking.

The doctor didn’t answer immediately, instead giving instructions to the staff. Y/N reached for his hand again, her grip tight but shaky.

“It’s going to be okay,” Jayce said softly, trying to reassure her even though he wasn’t sure if he believed it himself.

“Jayce,” Y/N whispered, her voice weak and strained. “I love you.”

He kissed her forehead gently. “I love you more.”

But the minutes stretched into hours. Complications set in, and the room was flooded with doctors and nurses. Jayce felt helpless, staring at Y/N, his mind whirling with every possible outcome. The birth of their child—the miracle of life—had suddenly turned into a battle for survival.

He didn’t know how long it had been since the crisis began. His hands were shaking as he squeezed Y/N’s, trying to steady himself. He watched as the medical staff worked frantically, but all he could see was Y/N's pale face, her breathing shallow, her energy fading.

"Come on, Y/N... stay with me," Jayce whispered, brushing a lock of her hair from her forehead. "I can't do this without you."

The world felt like it was crashing down around him, but still, he clung to the thought of their child—of the family they had dreamed of. They had made it through the first hurdle, but something was terribly wrong.

A soft cry broke through the tension. Their baby had arrived.

The doctor handed the newborn to a nurse, who rushed the baby away to be cleaned and examined. Jayce barely even noticed, his eyes fixed on Y/N, who had started to slip in and out of consciousness. He could see the blood seeping onto the sheets, and his heart stopped.

"Jayce," Y/N breathed, her voice barely audible.

"Hey, you’re going to be okay," Jayce said, his voice raw, his chest tightening. But his gaze was fixed on the staff working quickly around her.

The doctor immediately began to assess the situation. "She’s losing too much blood. We need to stabilize her now!"

His pulse quickened. He had heard the term “postpartum haemorrhage” before, but hearing it in real-time made the ground beneath him feel like it was crumbling. He could feel the heat rising in his body as panic surged through him.

The nurses began moving quickly, one applying pressure to Y/N’s abdomen while another attempted to administer fluids, but Jayce felt paralyzed, rooted to the spot, unable to move from her side.

“Y/N…My life” Jayce whispered, his voice breaking as he tried to catch her fading gaze. “Don’t leave me. Please, stay with me.”

Her hand, once so strong, slipped from his, her fingers slack. The room around them became a blur of movement. The life-saving attempts, the quiet, urgent orders being barked by the doctors—everything felt distant as he fixated on her pale face.

"Stay with me," he pleaded, his voice trembling.

His mind raced, his thoughts swirling into chaos. How could this be happening? Their baby had been born healthy, perfect. How could they be faced with losing Y/N now?

Another cry echoed through the room—the sound of their son. Jayce caught sight of the tiny infant in the nurse’s arms, but his attention was divided, his heart torn between the two most important things in his life.

And then, everything stopped.

A nurse came close to him. "We’re doing everything we can. You need to trust us."

Jayce couldn’t bring himself to speak, his voice a tight knot in his throat. All he could do was stare at Y/N, trying to will her to stay awake, to hang on. It felt like time had stretched to an unbearable length.

He reached for her hand again, desperate.

"Y/N…" he whispered, tears streaking down his face. "You have to wake up. Please. I need you."

A full day passed before she stirred. Her eyes fluttered open slowly, weak but aware. Jayce let out a shaky breath of relief, his body trembling as he held her hand tightly, his son cradled in his arms. He had spent every minute of the past twenty-four hours at her side, torn between the desperate hope that she would wake up and the overwhelming fear that he could lose her.

"Jayce," she murmured, her voice a whisper, but it was enough. "Our baby... is he okay?"

His heart soared with the sound of her voice. He kissed her forehead, his lips brushing against her skin, gentle and filled with emotion. "Yes, love. He’s perfect. You’re perfect."

Tears welled up in his eyes as he looked down at their son, sleeping peacefully in his arms, his tiny hands curled into fists. He couldn’t help but marvel at how fragile and yet how resilient this little life was. He looked at Y/N again, his heart swelling with love for both her and their child.

Y/N’s eyes shifted to the baby in his arms, and her expression softened. Her hand, still weak, reached out slowly, as if it took all her strength just to touch him. Jayce carefully placed their son into her arms, guiding her to cradle him. Her fingers trembled as she held him, but there was a profound tenderness in her touch, and Jayce could see the love already radiating between them.

The room was quiet, save for the soft rustle of the sheets, the faint sound of the baby’s breath, and the rhythmic beeping of the monitors that had kept them on edge for so long. Jayce settled beside her again, his gaze never leaving her face, his heart full of gratitude and relief.

“I was so scared,” Jayce confessed softly, his voice raw. “When you were so still... I didn’t know if I could do this without you.”

Y/N managed a weak smile, her eyes heavy with exhaustion but full of warmth. “You never had to do it without me. We’re in this together.” Her voice was barely above a whisper, but it carried all the strength he had come to love.

Jayce brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, his fingers trembling slightly. "I don’t know how I would have gotten through it without you," he said, his voice thick with emotion. “You’ve always been my rock. And now we have him...”

Y/N’s eyes glistened with tears as she looked at their son. “Our son,” she whispered, the words filled with awe. “He’s perfect. Just like you said.”

Jayce’s heart clenched at the sight of her, so fragile but so full of love. The worst had passed. The crisis had been a terrifying storm, but it was over now, and they had made it through—together. But even though Y/N was stable, the road to full recovery would still take time. Jayce wasn’t naïve enough to think everything was behind them. There would be moments of doubt, moments of struggle, but they had already proven how strong they were together.

Finally, he pulled away just enough to kiss her softly on the lips, the pressure of the kiss tender and full of meaning. “You did it,” he whispered against her lips. “You’re going to be okay, Y/N. We’re going to be okay.”

A faint smile crossed her face as her eyes softened, her gaze lingering on him. “We did it,” she whispered back, and Jayce’s world was whole again.

The cries of their son filled the room, a sound so pure and full of promise. Jayce glanced at the new-born—his son—and then back to Y/N, the love in his eyes unmistakable. He had never felt more grateful, more connected to her, more determined to protect their family.

And as he held Y/N's hand in his, feeling the warmth return to her skin, he knew, despite everything, their family had made it through the storm. They had survived. Together. And there was nothing they couldn’t face from here on out.

VIKTOR

The room was eerily silent, save for the quiet hum of the machines and the muffled sounds of the bustling hospital outside the door. Viktor sat in the chair beside the bed, his cane resting against his leg, his hands gripping the soft fabric of the baby blanket as if it were the only thing tethering him to reality.

This wasn't how it was supposed to go.

The pregnancy had been perfect. No complications, no scares—just quiet anticipation and soft whispers in the middle of the night. Viktor had spent months preparing, ensuring that Y/N had everything she needed, that their daughter would come into the world without a single worry. He had held Y/N close at night, murmuring reassurances against her hair when she fretted over the future. He had traced circles over the swell of her belly, felt the gentle kicks beneath his fingertips, and imagined the tiny life they had created together. It had been perfect.

But now Y/N was gone—wheeled away in a frantic rush, her blood staining the pristine white sheets.

His hands trembled as he stared at the blanket, the one Y/N had crocheted herself. It was small, meant to swaddle their daughter, but now it felt heavy in his grasp. The weight of everything crashed down on him as the sterile smell of the hospital seeped into his senses.

He hadn’t even gotten to hold her.

Their daughter had been pulled into the world too soon, her first cries cut short as the doctors fought to keep both mother and child alive. There had been too much blood, too many rushed voices speaking words Viktor couldn't process. He had heard the urgency in their voices, the panic, the pleas for more hands, more supplies, more time.

Y/N was dying. The baby was barely clinging on.

And he was powerless.

His grip tightened on the blanket as his chest ached with a pain he couldn't describe. He had fought against fate for so long—against his own body, against time itself—but this? This was a cruelty he hadn't been prepared for.

How could he do this without her? How could he raise a child alone, without Y/N by his side to share in the triumphs and the sleepless nights? The thought of his daughter growing up without her mother, of him being forced to tell her about the woman she would never meet, made his stomach churn with despair.

The door creaked open, and Jayce stepped inside, his usual confidence stripped away, leaving only quiet concern in his expression. He didn’t say anything at first, just took a hesitant step forward before settling in the chair beside Viktor. He looked out of place in the stark hospital room, his broad shoulders tense, his hands clasped together like he was steeling himself for the worst.

“They’re doing everything they can,” Jayce said, his voice softer than Viktor had ever heard it.

Viktor let out a breath, sharp and uneven. “And if it is not enough?”

Jayce didn’t answer. He didn’t have to. The uncertainty hung between them, thick and suffocating.

Viktor pressed a shaking hand to his forehead, willing himself to keep his composure, but it was slipping. He wasn’t a praying man—never had been—but in that moment, he would have begged any force in the universe to spare them. To let Y/N come back to him, to let their daughter breathe without struggling, to let them have the future they had planned together.

Just let them live.

The silence stretched, broken only when the distant sound of hurried footsteps echoed down the hall. Viktor looked up, his breath catching in his throat as he clutched the blanket even tighter.

Then the door opened again, and a nurse stepped inside. Her scrubs were wrinkled, and there were dark circles under her eyes, but her expression was gentle when she looked at Viktor.

“She made it through surgery,” the nurse said quietly. “It was touch and go for a while, but she’s stable now. She’ll need time to recover, but she’s alive.”

Viktor felt the breath he had been holding finally escape his lungs, though his chest still ached. His heart pounded in his ears, his body flooded with exhaustion and relief all at once.

“And… the baby?” His voice was barely above a whisper, afraid that if he asked, the answer might break him.

The nurse gave him a small, reassuring smile. “She’s fighting. She’s in the neonatal unit, but she’s strong.”

Strong. Just like her mother.

A choked sound escaped Viktor as he pressed the baby blanket to his face, his fingers curling around the soft yarn. His daughter was alive. Y/N was alive.

Jayce exhaled heavily beside him, clapping a firm hand on Viktor’s shoulder. “See? They’re fighters. Just like you.”

Viktor let out a watery chuckle, shaking his head. He didn’t feel like a fighter. Right now, he felt fragile, like one wrong move would shatter him entirely. But he would push forward, just as he always had, just as Y/N and their daughter had.

His eyes burned as he whispered, “I want to see them.”

The nurse nodded. “We’ll take you to see your daughter first. Y/N will be moved to recovery soon, and you can see her after.”

Viktor gripped his cane, using it to push himself up from the chair. His legs felt weak, but he forced himself to move, to follow the nurse down the cold hospital corridors. Jayce walked beside him, offering silent support should he need it.

The neonatal unit was quiet, bathed in a soft, sterile glow. The rhythmic beeping of monitors filled the air, a constant reminder of the fragile lives housed within the incubators. Viktor's steps were slow as he approached, his breath catching when he caught sight of her—his daughter.

She was so small, impossibly so, wrapped in a cocoon of wires and tubes. Her tiny chest rose and fell with each breath, her delicate fingers curled into fists as if she were already preparing to fight against the world. The nurse beside him spoke, explaining her condition, the treatments they were giving her, but Viktor barely heard any of it.

His fingers brushed against the glass of the incubator, a lump forming in his throat. "She is beautiful," he murmured, his voice thick with emotion. "So small… but beautiful."

Jayce stood back, watching but not intruding. This was Viktor’s moment.

Viktor felt a tear slip down his cheek, but he didn’t wipe it away. He simply stood there, gazing at his daughter—the proof that, despite all the odds, she had survived. And for the first time in what felt like forever, he let himself believe that they would make it through this. Together.

JAYVIK

Y/N had never expected to be a mother, let alone so soon. When she had first told Viktor and Jayce about the pregnancy, she had been terrified. It wasn’t planned, but the fear had melted the moment she saw the way their eyes softened, the way Viktor’s fingers traced over her stomach with a rare, tender reverence, the way Jayce immediately pulled her into a secure, warm embrace.

“We’ll figure this out,” Jayce had promised, pressing a firm kiss to her temple. “Together.”

And together they had. The pregnancy had been as smooth as it could be. No unexpected pains, no complications—just blissful, uninterrupted anticipation as they prepared to meet their children. Jayce had taken on the role of the overprotective guardian, keeping Y/N from straining herself, ensuring she never lifted anything remotely heavy, doting on her in ways that both amused and frustrated her. Viktor, ever the analytical mind, ensured she had everything she needed, meticulously researching prenatal care, adjusting their home to be more comfortable, and making sure she followed a balanced diet.

They painted the nursery together, a soft shade of blue accented by golden stars that Viktor carefully detailed by hand. Jayce had built the crib himself, laughing when Viktor chided him about ensuring the structure was sturdy. They spent late nights together, curled up in bed, whispering about the kind of future their children would have. Would they be scientists? Inventors? Dreamers?

Then, the moment finally arrived.

The first cry of their newborn filled the room, a beautiful, piercing sound that had Jayce gasping in relief and Viktor squeezing Y/N’s hand with a soft, breathless, “Má lásko, you did it.” (My love)

A baby boy. Their son.

Tears welled in Y/N’s eyes as a nurse swiftly took the newborn, cleaning him gently and wrapping him securely in a soft blanket. Once the baby was swaddled, the nurse turned to Jayce, placing the small, warm bundle into his arms. He hesitated for just a moment, staring in awe at the tiny life he now held, before cradling his son protectively against his chest. The baby squirmed slightly, his small face scrunching up as if displeased by the sudden shift in environment. Jayce let out an unsteady laugh, brushing his fingers over their son’s tiny hand, while Viktor sat beside them, his usually composed features completely undone by awe.

But then, something was wrong.

Y/N had barely been able to hold him before a wave of exhaustion crashed over her. Her vision blurred, her body felt too heavy, too cold. The warmth of their son in her arms became distant, almost unreal.

“Something’s not right,” she murmured weakly, her fingers trembling as they clutched Viktor’s sleeve. Panic flickered across his face as he turned to the doctors.

Then, chaos.

The second baby—their second child—was struggling. The doctors moved quickly, a sudden urgency gripping the room. Y/N gasped, her breathing uneven, her fingers slipping from Viktor’s grasp as her body grew limp.

“Her pulse is dropping!” a doctor called out.

“Get her to surgery! Now!” Someone shouted, and before either Jayce or Viktor could react, she was being rushed out of the room. Viktor nearly tripped trying to follow, but a nurse stopped him, a firm hand pressing against his chest.

“Wait—no, I need to—” Viktor tried to argue, his grip tightening on his cane, but the nurse shook her head.

“She’s in critical condition. We need to move now.” And then she was gone.

The silence that followed was deafening. The warmth of the moment, the joy of their firstborn, had been ripped away in an instant, replaced by uncertainty and fear.

Jayce sat heavily onto a chair, his hands buried in his hair as he struggled to breathe past the lump in his throat. Viktor stood frozen, eyes fixed on the door she had disappeared through. The hand that still trembled around his cane was the only sign of his distress, but Jayce could see it—could feel the way the weight of helplessness bore down on both of them.

Then, a small sound. A whimper, a tiny hiccup.

The baby.

Jayce forced himself to move, to look down at the small bundle in his arms. Their son squirmed slightly, his little hands curling into fists, his nose scrunching in protest. He was warm, alive, here.

Jayce looked at Viktor, his voice thick with emotion. “She’s strong, Vik. She’s going to make it.”

Viktor swallowed hard, stepping closer to look at their child—at the life Y/N had brought into the world despite the odds. He reached out, brushing the baby’s cheek with a featherlight touch, and for the first time since Y/N was taken away, his eyes closed, his forehead resting against Jayce’s shoulder.

“What if she doesn’t?” Viktor’s voice was barely above a whisper, uncharacteristically vulnerable. “What if—”

“She will.” Jayce’s grip on the baby tightened slightly, as if grounding himself in that reality. “She has to.”

They sat there in silence, watching their son, both desperately clinging to the hope that Y/N would return to them. That their family would be whole.

And all they could do was wait.

Time crawled by, each passing moment stretching unbearably. Every time the door opened, both of them would jolt, hoping for news, only to be met with more silence. Jayce paced the room with their son nestled in his arms, rocking him gently, while Viktor sat still, his mind racing through worst-case scenarios he couldn’t afford to acknowledge.

Then, at long last, the door opened again, and a nurse stepped in.

“She’s stable,” the nurse said softly. “She’s awake, and she’s been asking for you both.”

Jayce exhaled sharply, a mix of relief and lingering anxiety washing over him. Viktor let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, gripping his cane tightly as they both moved quickly to follow the nurse.

When they entered the room, Y/N was there, pale and exhausted, but alive. She was propped up against the pillows, her expression weary yet serene as she cradled a tiny bundle in her arms—a daughter. Their daughter.

A weak, but warm smile tugged at her lips as she looked at them. “You took your time,” she murmured, her voice hoarse but teasing.

Jayce let out a shaky laugh, stepping forward and carefully settling on one side of the bed while still holding their son. Viktor took the other side, his fingers brushing gently over her arm, as if to reassure himself that she was truly there.

Jayce wrapped an arm around them all, pulling them into a protective embrace. He pressed a lingering kiss to Y/N’s temple, his voice thick with emotion. “You scared the hell out of us.”

Viktor, ever the quieter one, leaned in, pressing his forehead against hers. “Never do that again,” he murmured, his voice strained but filled with nothing but love.

Y/N chuckled softly, shifting slightly so their daughter was nestled more securely in her arms. “I’ll try,” she whispered, exhaustion tugging at her again.

For the first time since this had all begun, they were together. Whole.

And despite everything, it was perfect.

VANDER

The air in the room was heavy with fear, thick and suffocating, mingled with the distinct scent of sweat and iron. The rickety cot creaked under Y/N’s weight as she clutched at the frayed sheets, her body slick with sweat, her breathing ragged and strained. Every moment felt like an eternity as the baby pushed its way into the world—too fast, too violently. There was no time to prepare. There was no time for anything but the agonizing pain that tore through her.

Vander knelt beside her, his strong hand wrapped tightly around hers, his knuckles white from holding on with all the strength he could muster. He pressed his lips to her forehead, his brow furrowed with worry. "You’re doing so well, love," he murmured, though his voice cracked, betraying the fear gnawing at his insides. Every time she screamed, it felt like a blade to his heart. He had fought countless men in the pits, taken hits that left his body battered and bruised, but nothing could have prepared him for this. Nothing could have prepared him for watching the woman he loved suffer.

Y/N’s eyes were glazed with pain, and tears streaked down her face. She gripped his hand tightly, her nails digging into his skin as another wave of contractions hit.

“I can’t... Vander, it hurts... It hurts so much,” she cried, her voice raw and hoarse from hours of screaming.

Felicia, who had been tending to Y/N, moved with practiced hands, trying to keep everything calm as she prepared for the birth. Her face was tight with concern, but she was the only one they had who could help. Zaun had no doctors, no advanced medical tools—only a few trusted hands.

"You need to keep going, Y/N," Felicia urged, her voice firm despite the panic underlying it. "Stay with me now."

But all Vander could do was focus on Y/N. He leaned close, his voice low and steady, though it shook. "Please, love. Just a little longer. We’re almost there."

Her body shuddered beneath his touch, the pain flaring up with every contraction. She screamed again, and Vander closed his eyes for a moment, the sound nearly unbearable. It wasn’t just physical pain; it was the terror in her eyes, the helplessness. For a moment, he wondered if this would be the moment he lost her—if this moment would be their last together. His heart raced, and his hands trembled, but he never let go.

Then, finally, Felicia's voice cut through the tension like a knife. "The baby's coming, Vander!"

A shuddering cry filled the room, and Felicia quickly wrapped the baby in cloth. "It’s a girl," she said, forcing a smile, trying to keep the mood light despite the heavy atmosphere. "She’s strong. She’s breathing."

Vander blinked, the words taking a moment to register. His eyes welled with tears as he looked down at the tiny, wriggling thing in Felicia’s arms. He kissed Y/N’s forehead again, his lips trembling. "You hear that, love? We have a little girl."

But as his voice shook with hope, Y/N’s breath hitched. She didn’t respond.

Vander’s heart stopped, his eyes locked onto Y/N’s face. Her body had gone still—too still. Her breath was shallow, ragged, and the blood… there was too much of it. He felt a rush of panic that threatened to consume him.

Felicia’s face drained of colour as she assessed the situation. "She’s losing too much," she muttered, voice tense. "I need more cloth, more pressure. She’s slipping."

Vander’s hands moved to Y/N’s face, his voice breaking. "Y/N? Y/N, stay with me, love." He didn’t know what else to say. He was desperate, willing to beg, to do anything to keep her here with him.

Her eyes fluttered open, just barely, her lips moving in a whisper. "Vander… keep her safe."

He squeezed her hand tighter, trying to hold back the tears. "No," he growled, voice raw. "You tell her yourself, Y/N. You hear me?" He felt the grip of fear close around his throat. "Stay with me."

She gave him a weak smile, her body sagging under the weight of exhaustion and blood loss. Her eyes closed again, and this time, there was no response.

Silence.

For a heart-stopping moment, Vander thought the worst. He thought he had lost her. His breath stopped as a chill ran through him.

Felicia cursed under her breath as she pressed both hands firmly to Y/N’s stomach, working frantically. "She’s still alive," Felicia said, though her voice was strained. "Barely… Vander, we need to stop the bleeding, now!"

Vander’s hands were on autopilot, grabbing whatever fabric he could find, pressing it firmly against Y/N’s body, trying to apply pressure just as Felicia had instructed. His hands were shaking, but he didn’t care. He could feel the panic rising in his chest like an animal clawing at him, but he couldn’t let go. Not now. Not ever.

Minutes felt like hours. Every breath Y/N took seemed to be a battle, a fight against the dark abyss threatening to claim her. But then—finally—a breath. A weak, shuddering breath.

Vander’s eyes widened, his heart pounding with relief. His forehead pressed against Y/N’s, his shoulders shaking as he let out a broken laugh, full of disbelief. "You’re not leaving me that easy, love," he whispered, his voice thick with emotion. "Not now. Not ever."

Felicia sat back on her heels, exhausted but relieved. She wiped her brow, her face still pale but with a faint trace of relief. "She’s not out of the woods, but… she’s here."

Vander’s tears fell freely as he held Y/N close, brushing her damp hair back from her face, his hands trembling as he placed the tiny bundle in her arms. Their daughter. The little girl who had almost cost them everything. He looked down at her, her tiny fingers curling weakly around his thumb. He traced a finger gently over the soft curve of her cheek, his throat tight.

"She’s got your nose," he murmured to Y/N, pressing another kiss to her sweat-damp hair. "She’s perfect."

And then, impossibly, Y/N’s fingers twitched—barely, but enough.

Vander’s breath caught, his heart swelling with the overwhelming rush of relief. He wrapped his arms around both of them—his love and their child. He kissed her temple once more, pressing a promise into her skin.

"I won’t ever let you go," he whispered, his voice steady now, filled with the depth of his unshakable devotion. "I’ll always protect you. Both of you."

And as the sun began to set outside their little home in Zaun, Vander held onto his family—his heart full, his love steadfast, and their future uncertain, but theirs nonetheless.

SILCO

The low, constant hum of Zaun echoed in the walls of Silco’s private quarters, the tension in the air thick enough to choke anyone within. Y/N lay propped up in the bed, sweat clinging to her skin, her breaths shallow and strained. The dim light from a single lamp flickered weakly against the haze of smoke that filtered in through the slats in the windows. She had always known the risks of childbirth in Zaun—knew that the medical care was nothing compared to Piltover's polished facilities—but nothing could prepare her for the panic that surged through her now. The pain, the fear, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that pressed in on her from all sides made her chest tighten.

Her hand gripped the sheets beneath her, fingers trembling as another contraction hit. She let out a sharp breath, trying to steady herself, but it was no use. The pain was unbearable, coming in waves that ripped through her body with an intensity she hadn’t anticipated.

Beside her, Silco stood, his cold and calculating demeanor stripped away, leaving only a man who was, for the first time in his life, genuinely frightened. His eyes locked on her face, his hand moving to brush her damp hair away from her forehead. His gloved fingers, usually so steady and controlled, were trembling slightly, betraying his inner turmoil.

"Y/N," Silco murmured, his voice hoarse and low. "Look at me."

Y/N’s vision was blurry, her mind clouded by the pain, but she managed to meet his eyes. The intensity of his gaze steadied her, grounding her in the chaos.

"Stay with me, darling," he continued, his voice firm, but underneath the commanding tone, there was a softness that she rarely heard from him. "You’re stronger than this. You can do this."

"I’m... so scared," she whispered, her voice weak and vulnerable in a way Silco had never heard before. "What if something happens to the baby? To me?"

His heart clenched at her words, and though he longed to tell her that everything would be fine, he knew better than to offer empty promises. But his presence was all she had in this moment, and if there was one thing he was certain of, it was that he wasn’t going to let anything happen to her or their child. He would tear down the world before he let that happen.

The door to the room creaked open, and the doctor from Piltover, a middle-aged woman with stern features and sharp eyes, entered. She was dressed in a sterile white coat, and her hands moved with precision as she approached the bed. Silco barely spared her a glance, his gaze fixed on Y/N as her body trembled beneath the waves of pain.

The doctor moved to assess the situation, but Silco’s attention remained unwavering. His eyes flickered to the doctor once more, but there was a coldness there that sent a shiver down her spine.

"You better do your job, doctor," Silco’s voice was quiet, dangerous, like a serpent coiled and ready to strike. "If anything happens to her, or to my child, I will make sure you regret it."

The doctor didn’t flinch, but Silco’s words were a reminder of the gravity of the situation. He was a man who wielded power not just with wealth and influence, but with fear—and this woman had to know that failure was not an option.

Y/N gasped as another contraction hit, her nails digging into the palms of her hands. Silco’s focus snapped back to her, his gloved hand finding hers and holding it tightly.

"Just breathe," he murmured, his voice barely above a whisper. "Breathe for me, Y/N."

The doctor examined Y/N carefully, making quick, efficient movements. Her brow furrowed as she murmured something about the baby being in a difficult position. The words made Y/N's heart race faster, panic gripping her chest.

“No,” Y/N gasped, her voice tight with fear. “Please, I can’t—”

“Y/N,” Silco interjected, his voice sharp but steady. “Focus on me. Focus on my voice. You’re going to be fine.”

But the doctor’s actions were swift and clinical, each movement calculated. Y/N squeezed Silco’s hand harder, the pain becoming unbearable as another wave of contraction hit her. Her breath was coming in short bursts, her chest heaving with the effort to stay calm. But with every moment that passed, she could feel the weight of the situation pressing down harder and harder.

"Is everything okay?" Silco’s voice was a low growl, his eyes flicking between the doctor and Y/N, demanding answers.

The doctor didn’t respond immediately, her eyes focused entirely on Y/N’s condition. She instructed a nurse to adjust the positioning of Y/N’s legs, her voice firm and professional. But Silco’s presence in the room was impossible to ignore, and the tension radiated from him like an aura. His hand clenched around Y/N’s, his breath coming faster now.

"Doctor," Silco growled, his patience thinning. "I said, is everything okay?"

The doctor looked up at him, a flicker of uncertainty crossing her face. "The baby is in a difficult position," she said, her voice calm but strained. "We need to turn her, but it’s risky."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her mind spinning with terror. “What do you mean, risky? What happens if—”

"Shh," Silco whispered to her, his fingers brushing over her forehead, trying to soothe her. “We’ll be fine. You’ve been through worse. You can do this.”

The doctor moved quickly, making the necessary adjustments. Silco stood by Y/N’s side, his hand still in hers, his presence grounding her in a sea of fear. He didn’t let go, his gaze locked onto hers, trying to offer any comfort he could.

Another hour passed in agonizing silence, the doctor working swiftly to help Y/N through each wave of pain. Silco never left her side, his words soft and reassuring, though beneath the calm surface of his voice, the fear was palpable.

Finally, the moment came. With a final, desperate scream, Y/N gave birth to their baby girl. The room was filled with the sound of her first cries—loud, sharp, and full of life. Silco’s heart skipped a beat as he looked down at their daughter, a tiny, fragile thing, her small fists clenched in the air as she wailed in protest of the world she had just entered.

"She’s beautiful," Silco murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he looked at Y/N.

But just as he turned to give Y/N the smile of relief she deserved, a terrible realization struck him.

Her eyes were closed. Her chest wasn’t moving. The room seemed to go deathly silent as Silco’s eyes locked on her pale, lifeless face.

“No...” he whispered, his voice breaking.

The doctor’s face turned pale as well, her hands moving quickly to assess the situation. “She’s in shock,” the doctor said, her tone suddenly frantic. “We need to stabilize her. Get her breathing again, now.”

Y/N’s body was limp in Silco’s arms, her skin cold and lifeless. He couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. All he could do was hold her, his arms trembling as he pulled her closer.

“Y/N…darling?” Silco’s voice cracked, barely audible as he leaned down, pressing his forehead against hers. His heart pounded in his chest, and every second felt like an eternity. “Please. Don’t do this. Please.”

His voice was desperate now, raw with fear as he rocked her gently in his arms. His hand moved to her chest, feeling for any sign of life, but it was like the world had come to a halt.

And then, like a flicker of hope in the darkness, a faint breath shuddered through Y/N’s body. Her chest rose, just barely, and Silco’s eyes locked on hers as she gasped for air.

A sob broke from him, relief flooding his veins as Y/N’s eyes fluttered open, though they were weak and unfocused.

“I’m here, Y/N,” he whispered hoarsely, tears threatening to spill. “I’m not letting you go.”

She reached up weakly, her hand brushing against his cheek, and Silco’s heart shattered at the sight.

"I’m here, Silco," she whispered, her voice barely a breath. “I’m not leaving you.”

As he looked down at their daughter—her tiny hands grasping at the air, her cries slowly turning into soft whimpers—Silco knew this moment, this fragile, imperfect moment, would define him forever. He would protect them both with every ounce of his being, and nothing in this world would ever tear them apart.

“Welcome to the world, little one,” Silco whispered, his voice full of awe and love. His fingers gently traced Y/N’s face as he held her close, his heart finally steady, for now. "Together, we will make this world our own."

JINX/POWDER (PLATONIC)

It was an unusually warm afternoon in Piltover when Y/N sat by the window, her hand gently resting on her swollen belly, feeling the subtle movements of the child growing inside her. The sunlight filtered through the curtains, casting a soft glow across the room. She smiled faintly, a small flicker of excitement still there, despite everything that had happened.

She had never planned to be in this situation. Pregnancy was supposed to be a shared experience, full of joy, a journey that a couple would embark on together. But instead, she was navigating it alone. The moment she told the father of the child, he vanished. Not a word, not even a glance back. Y/N had been left to face the whirlwind of emotions and responsibility all on her own.

The first few months had been rough. She was overwhelmed by the constant rush of thoughts about how she was going to handle it all, but then Jinx came into the picture. It was unexpected, but somehow, it felt right. Jinx had always been chaotic, unpredictable, but there was a kindness buried deep beneath her wild exterior. She showed up at Y/N’s door one day, a basket full of mismatched baby clothes and snacks in hand, grinning like she’d won some great prize.

“Surprise!” Jinx exclaimed, bouncing on her heels. “I’m here to help with your little monster.”

And help she did. Jinx became an unspoken part of Y/N’s life. She never hesitated, always the first to check on Y/N, bringing over food, running errands, and even talking to the baby as though they were already best friends. The moments they shared together were the bright spots in what could have been an incredibly lonely time.

But despite Jinx’s enthusiasm, Y/N knew the truth. She wasn’t sure if she would have survived the emotional toll of her situation without Jinx’s chaotic, but much-needed support.

As the months went by, Y/N’s belly grew, and so did her bond with Jinx. The little one, who they had started calling “Buddy” for lack of a better name, was about to enter the world. The excitement in the air was palpable.

But the birth... that’s when things took a turn.

The pain hit suddenly, and Jinx was at Y/N’s side in an instant, her usual wildness replaced with determination. She didn’t know how to handle a birth, but she didn’t let that stop her. She had always been resourceful.

Y/N gripped her hand tightly, her face contorted in pain. The room was buzzing with tension, the medical staff moving quickly around her, and yet Jinx was a rock. Her usual high-pitched voice was quiet, soothing, as she whispered words of encouragement.

“You’ve got this, Y/N. Come on, just one more push. I’m right here. Just like we said... You can do this.”

Y/N nodded, trying to stay calm despite the growing panic inside. Something didn’t feel right. Her vision blurred, and her body felt heavy, as though she was being pulled into the deep end of a storm she couldn’t control.

The complications started to escalate quickly. Y/N’s heart began to race erratically, and her breathing became shallow. The doctor’s faces shifted, from calm to concerned, then quickly to urgent. In that moment, Y/N wasn’t sure if she would make it through. The thought of her unborn child, of everything that had happened, flooded her mind.

And then, there was Jinx. Jinx who had seen so much destruction in her life, but still, in this moment, she was fighting to keep her calm for Y/N. She was holding Y/N’s hand, whispering to her, telling her she wasn’t alone.

“Hey... Y/N,” Jinx said, her voice shaky but determined. “Don’t go anywhere. You’ve got a little one to take care of, right? Buddy’s gonna need you. I’ll be here... Just hang on. You’re not gonna leave me. Okay?”

Y/N barely had the strength to nod, but Jinx’s words, despite the chaos around them, were a lifeline. She squeezed her hand once, as though telling Jinx she was going to fight to stay.

The seconds felt like hours, and the minutes stretched on, but slowly, the tension in the room started to ease. Y/N’s heart rate stabilized, the doctors’ movements slowed, and Jinx let out a shaky breath. She couldn’t believe it. Y/N was still there, still holding on, still fighting. The baby was coming. Buddy was coming.

But just as the baby was finally born, Y/N’s heart took another turn. The doctors’ voices became more frantic. Y/N’s body went limp, and the room seemed to spin. She was losing blood fast, and the doctors couldn’t stop it. One of the nurses began shouting for a stretcher.

“Get her stabilized! Now!”

Y/N was carefully wheeled away, leaving Jinx standing at the edge of the room, her mind spiraling into chaos. She hadn’t even realized she was trembling until she found herself staring down at the small bundle in her arms—Buddy. The tiny, squirming baby, who was crying softly, oblivious to the storm that was still raging in the room.

Jinx stared at Buddy, her hands trembling. Her lip quivered as she held the baby closer. Her mind was in turmoil, the weight of the situation crashing down on her.

“Why?!” Jinx suddenly snapped, her voice laced with desperation. “Why is this happening?! Why is it always the babies—why do they make everything worse?!”

Her voice cracked, the harshness of her words cutting through the stillness in the room. She stared down at the baby, her breath shaky and uneven. “This wasn’t supposed to happen. Y/N... she’s... she can’t—she can’t be gone, not like this…”

Buddy’s cries grew louder, more frantic in the tense air, and Jinx’s heart twisted painfully. She trembled, feeling smaller with each passing second. Her grip on Buddy tightened, and the frantic thoughts that swirled in her mind spilled out in a torrent of guilt and anger.

“If you were never born... if none of this had ever happened... Y/N would be fine! She wouldn’t be lying there, fighting for her life because of me. Because of you…” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she choked back a sob, blinking furiously to keep the tears at bay.

Buddy’s cries only grew more intense, a sharp contrast to Jinx’s frenzied breathing. The weight of her words hit her like a ton of bricks, and for a moment, she felt a sickening emptiness, like she was drowning in the guilt that had become too heavy to bear. She squeezed her eyes shut, as though trying to block out the overwhelming reality of the situation.

Jinx’s arms trembled as she held Buddy close, but her harsh words soon faltered. She felt the soft warmth of the tiny body in her arms and the tender, unrelenting pull of something deep inside her—a connection, fragile yet fierce.

Her hands, shaking, slowly calmed, and she held the baby against her chest, her voice breaking.

“I didn’t mean it... I’m so sorry, little one... I didn’t mean it. You didn’t ask for this... None of this is your fault.” Her voice was barely a whisper now, barely audible over the baby’s cries.

Jinx took a shuddering breath, her body wracked with sobs as she rocked Buddy gently, murmuring apologies. “I don’t know what to do... I don’t know what to do without her...”

As the baby’s cries softened into soft whimpers, Jinx pressed her cheek against Buddy’s head, feeling the weight of her own fear and guilt melt away bit by bit. Slowly, almost instinctively, she whispered promises.

“I’ll take care of you, little one. Just like I’ll take care of Y/N. I won’t leave you. I won’t leave either of you.”

The words felt like a lifeline, one Jinx was grasping with every ounce of her being. She closed her eyes, clinging to the fragile life in her arms and the hope that somehow, she would find a way to hold on to both Y/N and Buddy, no matter what it took.

Hours passed in a blur of soft cries, gentle rocking, and quiet murmurs as Jinx held Buddy close. The tiny baby had eventually calmed, his whimpers softening into quiet breaths as he nestled against Jinx’s chest. Her mind was still a storm, turbulent and chaotic, but the feel of the warm, fragile little body in her arms brought a small sense of grounding amidst it all.

She hadn’t even realized she had fallen asleep herself until she was jolted awake by the soft creak of the door opening. A nurse stood there, her gaze gentle but firm, catching Jinx's attention. Her voice was quiet, almost hesitant.

“Ms… If you’re ready, we have a room prepared for you to see Y/N.”

Jinx’s heart stopped for a moment. Y/N... alive?

Her breath caught in her throat, and her wide, shocked eyes flickered down to the baby in her arms. Buddy had fallen asleep too, his tiny hand curled in a loose fist against her chest. Slowly, cautiously, Jinx stood up, her legs stiff from the hours of sitting in the same spot. She held Buddy against her, and the nurse gently guided her down the hall, leading her to a quieter, dimly lit room.

When they entered, the first thing Jinx noticed was the steady beeping of a monitor and the soft rise and fall of Y/N’s chest. She was asleep, pale but alive, the deep lines of exhaustion and pain softened by the gentle relief of rest.

Jinx’s breath hitched in her throat, a fresh wave of emotion crashing through her. She didn’t even realize her legs were moving until she was beside the bed, her gaze fixed on Y/N’s sleeping form.

She carefully sat down beside Y/N, setting Buddy gently between them. The baby shifted in his sleep but didn’t wake, his tiny fingers twitching against the blanket. Jinx’s fingers lightly brushed through Y/N’s hair, a tender touch as she took in the reality of what had happened. Her mind was still reeling, her heart still raw with guilt, but seeing Y/N here, still breathing, still alive, it was almost too much to handle.

A sob bubbled up in Jinx’s chest, but she forced it back, not wanting to disturb the calm around them. She pulled the blanket closer to Y/N, making sure Buddy was tucked safely in between them.

“I... I thought I lost you,” Jinx whispered, her voice barely audible, her throat tight with emotion. She didn’t know if Y/N could hear her, but the words were out, and they felt like a confession she couldn’t keep in any longer.

Jinx leaned forward slowly, her head resting lightly against Y/N’s arm, her eyes closing in exhaustion. “You’re not gonna leave me, right? You promised, remember?” She whispered the words like a prayer, the echo of their shared promises still vivid in her mind.

She closed her eyes, feeling the soft weight of Buddy’s tiny body next to her and the steady rise and fall of Y/N’s chest, and for the first time in what felt like forever, Jinx allowed herself to breathe. The world was still heavy, and the future uncertain, but for now, the three of them were together.

Jinx curled into Y/N’s side, her arm draping protectively around the baby, her tears quiet and unspoken as she drifted into a light sleep, knowing that no matter what happened, she would stay with both of them, keeping her promises.

#Arcane #arcane fandom #Arcane angst #arcane fluff #reader insert #jinx x platonic!reader #jayce x reader #jayce x you #jayce talis x reader #jayce x y/n #viktor x y/n #viktor x reader #jayce x reader x viktor #viktor x you #vander x reader #silco x reader #jayvik x reader

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sillysiluriforme · 3 days ago

Text

Planes pass by overhead in a milky tea green sky direction Charle de gaul airport.

She hasn’t been grounded for this long in 4 years now, not since the hospital. She tries to think about Zoey and her grubby little hands. The way she looks up at her. Her babbling.

It’s all futile, her third sex-on-the beach has rendered her brain mushy and uncooperative. She used to hate being drunk. She still does, so it’s particularly perplexing she finds herself inebriated so often.

A pair of perfect manicured fingernails grazes her shoulder.

“Audreeeeeey…” comes Emilie’s pitch perfect practiced whine.

“I’m talking to you !” She ends her sentence on a higher note, indicating playfulness. Her bronze skin, dusted with crystals of pool droplets, sparkles in the light of the terrace- curtsy of her fresh perfect tan.

She furrows her brows through Audrey’s sunglasses. The green of her eyes is exacerbated, almost comical. Like the warning label on a bottle of helium.

“Whaddidyasay ?” The slurred words slither out of her mouth like drool. Why do people even drink ?

She puffs up her cheek and readjusts her hold on the sleeping toddler in her arms clover- Chloe. Chloe, after her mother in law- not that she’d ever met her- Some gold digging cover girl with a strong stomach and very little shame, from what she gathered.

Maybe that’s what her Andre wants for her at the end of the day. A well-to-do husband, some kids, a big house and as little shame as possible… he’s boring like that.

“ Here I was getting sentimental and you just ignore me, how could you be so cruel ?”

Chloe doesn’t stir in her arms, somehow, despite the brat normally sleeping as sleep as light as a feather. The mass of perfect honey colored curls go up and down as she photogenically lays her restful little head on Emilie’s chest. It’s like she’s doing it on purpose.

Audrey, working at half the speed she usually would, languidly blinks at her. No point in playing her verbal games. Emilie always wins.

She sighs with all the gusto of a mistress of the silver screen and repeats herself.

“I was saying I used to wish I had met you younger.”

“…” the congealed remains of her mostly-fruit-juice-cocktails have seeped into the crevices of her synapses, the coughing machine chugs along. “Why ?” She says flatly, without too much interest.

“I didn’t know you actually had curly hair till the day we all moved out, did I ever tell you that ?”

Audrey goes to push her sunglasses up her forehead almost pokes herself in the eye.

“What did you think I was doing when I woke up earlier than you everyday?”

The perfect hand lurches like a snake to grasp her arm, like otherwise she’d run off and miss hearing her out. “You’re missing the point.” Audrey’s eyes roll in their sockets from the snake to the grass-green eyes.

“You wouldn’t let me in, ever, not of your own will.” Her mouth curves down and her brows curve up. “It… hurt me.” Her voice wobbles in a controlled manner not unlike a prop laminated metal sheet. “My first friend- my best friend, trapping me at arm’s length… so during lectures I’d try to imagine you,”

“And me…” and there’s something she manages to catch for an instant. Something soft and fidgety held in her gaze. “As schoolgirls- sometimes even younger, already friends, shared secrets and make believe memories.”

And with a sharp snap it’s gone, cold and still forever. Emilie’s gaze rises past Audrey, as it often does when she goes on a tangent. Her fingers tangle in the little girl’s curls.

“I missed you, you know. It’s not the same without you here. Im so happy you’re home now.” Glossy pink lips plucker into a heart shaped smile. The perfect snake coils through perfect yellow swirls to unearth Chloe’s sun kissed forehead before planting her lips on the unmarked surface. The glittering pink stain stands alone like a flagpole in no man’s land.

Audrey’s foot catches the leg of her deckchair and narrowly misses eating shit on the sharp white tiles when she stands up. Emilie still reaches out like it’d help in any way.

“I want another glass.”

#I have such brainrot about these people I had to change artistic medium #miraculous ladybug #mlb la terreur au #miraculous ladybug and chat noir #silu’s writing #new tag unlocked ig #emilie agreste #chloe bourgeois #audrey bourgeois

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littelovelunette · 1 day ago

Note

G!p Sevika cream pieing you, or cumming on your face, tits, back, stomach, mouth. Just alot of cum play hihi

Creamy

Contains Sevika G!P, drug use during sex (?), smut, blowjob, no protection, hair pulling, praising, doggy style, cream pie, cum play, aftercare

Sorry, I got carried away... This is so long...

"Baby, I have an interesting somerhing for you," you said. You and Sevika were both at Last Drop, and you had a little idea for an innocent prank that wasn't all too innocent. You had been down to the market and found chocolates that enhance libido.

You were aware Sevika had a naturally high libido as it was. But what was the fun in just letting it be as it was? You've experimented a lot in the bedroom with her and couples weeks back when she fucked you hard and rough under the influence of Shimmer, even if you did pass out it was amazing.

Today, you had different plans. TABS chocolate. Sevika obviously had no idea was that chocolate even was because let's be real, she doesn't care about chocolates.

"Are you gonna keep staring?" Sevika asked as she looked at you, cards in her mechanical hand as she took a sip of her drink.

"Here," you smiled and gave her a broken piece of the chocolate. Sevika raised a brow at the sight of the chocolate held out by you. "Chocolate? For me?"

You nodded with a smile, Sevika sighed and shook her head. "Whats the catch?"

"There is no catch, I just wanna give it to you because I've had too much already," you lied smoothly.

"Doll, what did I say about you having too many sweets?" Sevika said with a warning tone but despite that put the glass of alcohol down to take the chocolate.

"I'm sorry, I was just having a little craving," you said with a little grin.

You watched with sparkling eyes as she ate the chocolate. Now it was time to wait and watch the magic unravel.

The game continued, but you kept an eye on her. At first, nothing seemed different—Sevika played her cards, drank her whiskey, and exuded that effortless dominance.

But then, after a few minutes, you noticed a shift. The way she adjusted her seat, her tongue running over her teeth in thought. The brief pause before she took a sip of her drink, her fingers flexing against the rim of her glass.

Then, the glance. Subtle at first. A flicker of those sharp, dark eyes toward you. Another sip, slower this time. The way her throat moved as she swallowed.

You hid your grin behind your drink.

Sevika placed her cards down, winning the round with a smirk, then turned toward you, leaning in slightly. Her voice dipped lower, silkier. “That wasn’t just chocolate, was it, bunny?”

A slow smirk tugged at her lips. She finished her drink in one smooth motion and stood, rolling her shoulders. “Cash me out,” she told the dealer before turning to you. “You coming, or are you just going to sit there grinning like an idiot?”

"Mhm, coming," you got up, putting an arm in hers, pressing your tits against her through the thin fabric of your dress.

Sevika felt that, but didn't react. She didn't give you the satisfaction of seeing her flustered. Instead, she grabbed the cash and walked with you. Her steps were sharp and long making you have to run beside her to keep up with her pace.

"Don't go so fast!" You complained breathlessly making Sevika chuckle under her breath. "I hope you won't say the same in bed." You huffed a sigh at Sevika's words.

"Strip." Sevika said as you both reached her apartment bedroom. You blushed but complied, taking the straps down of your dress followed closely by your underwear.

You wondered what Sevika would be like under the influence of TABS chocolate although you were sure she was animalistic as it was even without the chocolate. Maybe this would get rougher that you'd anticipate. But to be frank, who'd turn down rough sex if it's with Sevika?

Sevika pushed you to your hands and knees by your hair making you wince, tears already appearing in your eyes from the sudden tug of your hair. You could smell the intoxicating smell for Sevika's cock.

It made your mind go all hazy and mushy, you slowly grabbed onto the shaft at the base. It was already leaking precum and throbbing in your hand. You could tell it was probably so sensitive by now.

"Fuck." Sevika cursed as she made a makeshift ponytail using your hair, holding it using her mechanical hand. "Ready to suck daddy off?" She asked with a smirk and you nodded, staring up at her with puppy eyes.

Sevika didn't miss a beat shoving her huge length down your throat with a new sort of force that made you gag when it hit the back of your throat. Sevika didn't relent, as if you gagging only made her hornier she started pumping her cock in your mouth successfully throat fucking you. You had to grab onto her thighs to steady your balance as you inches closer to her cock.

You couldn't breathe and you didn't want to. Right now all you needed was Sevika's huge veiny dick and you had that settled deep in your throat. You gasped a little as she shot her semen right in your mouth with no warning.

Sevika reached her flesh hand down to your mouth, smearing the cum on your face. "Yeah? Like that? Looking so pretty."

"Mmmph..." You could only let out a small muffled whine with your mouth still so full of cock. Sevika pulled it out slowly letting her shaft slap against your cheek getting your face even more soaked in her semen.

"Swallow." Sevika ordered and you did, swallowing down the thick liquid, "Now open." She held your bottom lip by her thumb of her flesh hand, opening your mouth up to check whether you've swallowed all of her cum. "Good girl."

Sevika picked you up with ease and laid you down on your back flat. She looked down at your clean shaven pussy, "Looks like someone prepared good." She taunted and you blushed looking away. Sevika didn't mind if you kept your pubic hair trimmed, shaven or waxed. It didn't matter to her.

Sevika pulled your legs open and thrusted her huge length inside breaking you out of your thoughts. "Oh my gosh!" You screamed and let out a loud moan.

Sevika laughed at the sight of you so surprised at the sheer length of her hard dick and started thrusting deep making the tip kiss your cervix with each powerful thrust.

It wasn't long until you were crying and babbling for her to stop but Sevika was nowhere done with you. Her cock continued to thrust in your raw, sore pussy as her thumb rubbed and pinched your clit making you buckle your hips at whatever contact your poor swollen clitoris got. Sevika's thrusts started getting sloppy. "I'm gonna fill this tight cunt up. Knock you up." She said through her heavy breaths and pants before she shot her loud in your tight cunt making you close your eyes in bliss.

"Daddy's cum..." You babbled mindlessly and Sevika grabbed a hold of your perky nipples, pulling them with a laugh. "D-daddy n-no not so rough please..."

"You like daddy's cum, don't you?" Sevika pulled her cock out and made you get on your hands and knees on the bed so she could pound you from behind. Sevika shoved her cock inside making your breath hitch, the new position making you feel tighter and her cock bigger.

"Fucking tight pussy." Sevika cursed out under her breath before she bit her bottom lip and started thrusting hard into your pussy making you clench onto her desperately trying to keep her warm, huge length tucked deep inside.

Hours passed and you both have been fucking like rabbits. You can't get enough of Sevika's semen. Your body was drenched in it by now and so were the sheets. You didn't care whether you got to cum or not but you needed Sevika's semen all over yourself for some reason. You just needed it. Needed it so badly.

"Daddy, can't, anymore," you managed to let out broken words as Sevika let go of your body, cumming the last time on your stomach and tits, a little on your face too. "Yeah? You're all spent?" You nodded weakly at her question. "C'mon then."

Sevika helped you up with ease and took her mechanical arm off, letting it rest on the bedside table so she could join you in a hot shower. It wasn't a problem, usually, her having her mech arm on during the shower but Sevika preferred to shower without it.

She helped you inside the shower room, settling you on the bathroom counter as she took out the shampoo and shower jel out of the cabinet. She took the tanktop she had on through the whole time with one hand, with practised ease.

You got off the counter, a little imprint of your ass left on the counter... Due to the semen.

Sevika saw it, smirking a little, she grabbed your ass tightly with her flesh hand and kissed you against the shower wall. You kissed her back, slowly turning the shower tap on using one hand, letting the water cascade down on the both of you while you both continued kissing.

"I guess we can tick off kissing under the rain." Sevika joked making you laugh a little. It was rare when she joked about something which actually seemed funny to you. Other than stupid, silly dad jokes. But you liked it in here now.

In Sevika's... Well, arm, right now.

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dreamykira · 3 days ago

Text

One Way or Another I IN-HO x reader

˗ˏˋREQUEST ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Hi I hope you're doing well! Can I please request In-ho x female reader where she's a player and he becomes obsessed with her during his time as Young-il? During the rebellion, when Dae-ho fails to bring the ammo, she takes on the role and arrives on time to see In-ho's moment of betrayal. And from there, he decides to just remove her from the game and keep her with himself. It would be all the better if it was angsty with a touch of manipulative In-ho. @androgynous-lady

˗ˏˋWARNINGS ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ Betrayal, mentions of blood and killing, Dae-Ho has a panic attack. SPOILERS!!!! English is not my first language:)

˗ˏˋAUTHOR'S NOTE ´ˎ˗

╰┈➤ hello again:) im kind of in my writers era or smth cos i have no clue how i've managed to post three fics in three days. i hope i can keep the streak going for longer. ALSOOOO this came out longer than i expected and im kind of inspired to write a part two of what happens when in-ho and reader meet again soooooo..... that means that i might turn this into a multi-part series. thats ofc if you guys like it and are interested in it.

word count: 1465

Pt. 2

The tension in the dormitory was suffocating. The players sat in clusters, whispering among themselves, the weight of what was to come pressing down on them like a storm cloud. Soon, the plan would be set in motion.

But for now, there was still time.

And yet, it didn’t feel like enough.

“Are you sure you have to go?” you murmured, your fingers curling into the fabric of Young-il’s sleeve.

He paused, gun in hand, eyes flickering toward you. Then, with a quiet sigh, he reached out and cupped your face, his thumb tracing gently over your cheek. The softness of the gesture felt at odds with the world you were trapped in.

“You know I do,” he said, voice low, steady.

You swallowed. “Then let me come with you.”

A small smile ghosted over his lips, but there was something sad about it. “No,” he said simply.

Your grip tightened. “Why not?”

His hands slid down to your shoulders, his touch warm, grounding. “Because I need you here. I need to know you’re safe.”

Safe.

The word felt meaningless in this place.

You searched his eyes, hoping—praying—for something, anything, that would make this easier. But all you saw was quiet determination.

He was going. And there was nothing you could do to stop him.

Your breath hitched as a lump formed in your throat. “Promise me you’ll come back.”

He exhaled through his nose, almost like he was amused by your doubt. “I will.”

“You don’t know that.”

At that, his expression shifted—something unreadable passing through his eyes. Then, before you could react, he leaned in, pressing a quick, lingering kiss to your lips.

The world around you faded. Just for a second.

When he pulled back, his forehead rested against yours. “I will,” he murmured, “one way or another.”

Something about the way he said it sent a shiver down your spine. But before you could dwell on it, he was already stepping away. Already slipping through the door.

And you were left standing there, his words echoing in your mind.

One way or another.

✧˚ · .

Gunfire echoed through the maze-like corridors of the facility as the armed players made their move, pushing forward with relentless desperation. It was chaos.

Hyun-Ju ducked behind cover as bullets whizzed past, her pulse roaring in her ears. “We’re running low on ammo!” she shouted.

“We need more!” someone yelled back. “We can’t hold out like this!”

Dae-ho clenched his jaw, gripping his rifle. “I’ll go get some,” he said.

As he ran through the corridors, the gunfire fading behind him, something dark and suffocating wrapped around his chest.

Memories clawed their way to the surface.

Blood. Screaming. The bodies of people he had once called comrades.

His breath hitched.

✧˚ · .

You had been pacing, anxiety gnawing at your stomach, when Dae-ho stumbled inside.

Something was wrong.

Dae-ho stumbled back into the dormitory, his breaths coming in ragged gasps. His hands were shaking, but he forced himself to move.

He scanned the room—most of the players were huddled together, whispering anxiously, too afraid to do anything. The bodies of the dead guards still lay where they had fallen, untouched.

Swallowing hard, he forced himself forward.

His hands trembled as he knelt beside one of the guards, searching through his pockets. He grabbed everything he could find, moving quickly to the next body.

The smell of blood made his stomach churn.

He tried to ignore it. Tried to pretend he wasn’t kneeling among corpses, rummaging through their uniforms like a scavenger.

By the time he was done, he had stuffed as much ammo as he could into a spare jacket he’d found. His fingers tightened around the fabric.

He needed to go back.

He needed to bring this to the others.

But the moment he turned toward the door, something inside him snapped.

A memory. A flash of gunfire. Screams.

His breath hitched.

He couldn’t go back out there.

His grip on the jacket loosened as his feet carried him backward, away from the door, away from the fight.

By the time he reached his bed, he collapsed onto it, curling around the stolen ammo like a child clutching a security blanket. His body shook. His mind screamed.

That was how you found him.

Your heart clenched at the sight.

Slowly, carefully, you approached.

“Dae-ho?” you whispered.

He didn’t look up.

You crouched beside him, your voice softer now. “What happened?”

His breaths were uneven. “I—I can’t,” he rasped. “I can’t go back out there.”

Your chest ached.

You placed a gentle hand on his arm. “It’s okay,” you murmured. “You don’t have to.”

His eyes flickered toward you, glassy with fear.

You gave his arm a reassuring squeeze before shifting your attention to the jacket in his grasp.

“You did good,” you said. “You got the ammo.”

He swallowed hard, nodding weakly.

You hesitated. Then, carefully, you took the jacket from him. He didn’t resist.

“I’ll take it from here.”

And before he could stop you, you turned and ran.

✧˚ · .

The colourful walls blurred around you as you moved as fast as you could, the weight of the ammo pressing down on you.

You found Player 120, Hyun-Ju, first. She was crouched behind cover, struggling to reload.

“Here!” you gasped, shoving the ammo toward her.

Her eyes widened in relief. “Thank you—”

But you were already moving.

You had to find Young-il.

✧˚ · .

Your pulse pounded in your ears as you turned the last corner. Then, you saw him.

Young-il stood just ahead, his back turned to you, shoulders rising and falling with heavy breaths. At his feet lay the bodies of two players—the same ones who had left with him.

Your heart lurched.

They were dead.

Your gaze snapped back to Young-il. He was gripping a gun.

“Young-il?” Your voice was shaky as you took a hesitant step forward.

He turned at the sound of your voice. His expression hardened for a fraction of a second, as if he was displeased to see you. Then, just as quickly, his face softened.

“Why are you here?” His voice was sharp, but beneath it, there was something else.

Relief.

Anger.

Panic.

You swallowed thickly. “We were running out of ammo… Dae-ho—he couldn’t do it. I took over.”

A muscle in his jaw twitched. “You shouldn’t have come.”

You frowned. Something about his tone unsettled you. You glanced down at the bodies again, dread curling in your stomach. “What happened to them?”

“They didn’t make it,” he said simply.

You looked up at him again, and for the first time, you truly took him in.

There was something off about him.

The way he stood—too still.

The way he held the gun—too natural.

The way he looked at you—too calculating.

Then, his walkie-talkie crackled to life.

“Young-il?” It was Gi-hun’s voice. “What’s going on? I heard gunshots.”

Young-il lifted the device to his lips, his eyes still locked onto yours.

“It’s over,” he said. His voice was steady, but his grip on the gun tightened. “We’ve been caught.”

Your breath hitched.

Lies.

Your hands curled into fists.

Before you could speak, he changed the channel on the walkie-talkie.

“Start wrapping this up.” His voice was different now. Colder.

The words sent ice through your veins.

Your stomach twisted, dread creeping up your spine as the realisation began to sink in.

This wasn’t Young-il.

Not really.

Not the man you had trusted. Not the man you had cared for. Not the man who you fell in love with.

Your throat felt tight. “Who… who are you?”

There was a long pause.

Then, something in him shifted. The careful mask of concern fell away, revealing something darker beneath.

Something possessive.

Something unyielding.

He took a step toward you, his eyes never leaving yours. “I told you I would come back to you,” he murmured.

Your breath came in shallow gasps.

Footsteps echoed down the hall. Guards.

You took a step back, shaking your head.

“No,” you whispered.

Young-il—it was clear that it wasn’t his real name—reached out, gently brushing his fingers against your cheek. It should have been comforting. It wasn’t.

“You have nothing to be afraid of,” he said softly. “I’m keeping you safe.”

You flinched. “This isn’t—this isn’t right.”

His gaze darkened, but he didn’t move away. “You’ll understand soon enough.”

The guards arrived.

In-ho didn’t even have to give the order out loud. One of them grabbed your arm, and panic surged through you.

“No—wait—” You struggled, and for some odd reason hoped that Young-il would save you.

You turned to him, searching for something—some trace of the man you had thought he was.

He only tilted his head.

“Take her upstairs,” he said.

And as the guards pulled you away, your heart shattered.

to the lovely reader who sent me the request: i hope this met you expectations 💗

#in ho x reader #front man x reader #player 001 #frontman #squid game #squid game fanfic #hwang in ho

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annievrse · 23 hours ago

Text

headlock

roronoa zoro x reader —ᡣ𐭩 blurb c/w: suggestive a/n: lol

“my eyes are up here.”

a quick snap of his fingers has you peering up at him with warm cheeks. you smile sheepishly at him.

“sorry.”

zoro hums, arching an eyebrow. you're not sorry.

"what's so interesting down there, huh?" he already knows, he just wants to hear you say it.

shaking your head, your eyes don't dare waiver from his. "nothing as interesting as the weather outside."

he purses his lips, a scoff catching in his throat before he tightens his grip on the barbell and brings it up to his chest for another rep. when zoro's gaze drifts from you and lands on the floor beneath him, you flicker your eyes back down to where they were trained before.

his biceps bulge as he flexes them, veins prominent under his tan skin. the defined muscles are your favourite sight, and like a dog, eyes locked on a bone just out of reach, you can feel an urge building in your chest, a twitch of your muscles begging to spring forward, but you refrain.

instead, your mouth moves before you can stop yourself.

"would you put me in a headlock?"

zoro's eye darts to you, his cheeks tinted pink as he falters with the exercise. the barbell falls to the ground with a thunk, and you're surprised it doesn't fall through the wooden floor of the crow's nest.

"what?"

you smile, a challenging glint in your gaze. "you heard me."

"you're a freak."

shrugging one shoulder, you stand. "ok, and? you scared?"

"never," he scoffs, running his hand over his hair. "c'mere then."

you're shocked he'd even consider the idea, but skip over to him anyway. zoro watches you the whole time, and somewhere in the back of his mind, he saw this coming. he hasn't missed the way you stare at his arms like you want to bite them, and whether that's the reason he's been focusing on training them more than any other body part is something he'd never admit.

zoro is quick to spin you, back against his chest. the heady, musky, man smell he emits makes you dizzy and does little to deter you.

"you sure?"

you roll your eyes and crane your neck to look at him. "would i really tell you if i didn't want to?"

zoro's eyebrows jump and then he brings his elbow under your chin. he hovers around you like he's scared to go further, and you push the deep 'v' of his arm around your neck. his other hand flies to your hip to steady you, his arm sliding over your stomach to press you harder against him.

the hard plain of his abdomen on your back knocks the breath out of you, but it's nothing compared to the pulsing of his bloodstream against your ear. his skin is smooth where you trail your fingers on his bicep, and you know when zoro is comfortable when he starts flexing, an easy laugh falling from his lips.

"weirdo," he mumbles when he feels his skin growing warmer with every passing second. you giggle and turn your head to kiss his muscle.

"you love it."

zoro sighs, one of contentment and desire, and you don't miss the traces of a groan when you sink your teeth into his flesh, the pain minor but forever etched into his skin. he shifts his hips and pulls you impossibly closer.

"easy," the swordsman mutters, voice low. "we've got all night."

#roronoa zoro #roronoa zoro x reader #roronoa zoro imagine #zoro roronoa x you #zoro roronoa x reader #zoro imagine #zoro x reader #one piece x reader #one piece

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stanart4clearskin · 1 day ago

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knight!art donaldson x princess!reader

art had essentially grown up in the castle. his mother was the queen's lady-in-waiting and his father was the king's most loyal knight. in return for their valuable service, the king and queen let art take lessons with their daughter—you. the two of you studied english, art, music, and fencing together. although the start of your guys' relationship had been rocky, the two of you eventually became good friends. the two of you confided in each other when life was hard or simply when you wanted a companion.

all throughout childhood art had a crush on you but he was smart enough to know not to act upon it. he knew that you were destined for far greater things than being in love with a common citizen such as himself. although he knew he could never be with you, that never stopped him from acting upon his feelings. he complimented you whenever he could, brought you flowers he saw when he helped his dad patrol the grounds, and would sneak into the kitchen to grab you a sweet treat late at night. you were art's first love and he liked to think that he was yours. as you got older, the two of you never talked about any feelings either of you could possibly have because you were to be engaged to a prince of a distant kingdom. art didn't want to get in the way of that.

on the eve of your 19th birthday and wedding, you had confided in art late at night about your apprehensions for your future. your head was in his lap as art's fingers combed through your locks. you both knew it was improper for a man and woman to be alone so late at night, let alone in your chambers but neither of you really cared.

"i'm terrified to be married." you admitted, your eyes tracing the lines of the cobblestone ceilings. "i have heard that prince zweig is loud and brash. he doesn't have much respect for women, let alone me."

art's heart clenched at your words. he hated the thought that you were to be married to someone who wasn't him and he hated the fact that your future husband wasn't even that good of a man. "i'm sure those are just rumors." he said but the words seemed unconvincing to both of you.

"i have heard that his parents have tried multiple times to find him a wife. every time something has gone wrong." you were apprehensive about what the next day might bring. prince zweig previously had his past bride-to-be kidnapped so that they couldn't go through with the wedding.

art could tell that you were nervous. his nails scratched against your scalp, causing you to release a hum of pleasure. "i'll be with you all day. i'll make sure nothing will happen to you."

the day of the wedding had come and the hours leading up to it had been rather uneventful. no one had attempted to kidnap you nor had anyone attempted to sabotage the officiant. your ladies-in-waiting helped you with your dress, hair, and makeup and soon enough you were walking down the aisle. you weren't sure what the feeling in the pit of your stomach was when you noticed that prince zweig wasn't at the alter. perhaps it was relief or maybe even joy at the possibility of not having to be married.

king and queen zweig insisted that everyone wait for the prince to show up but night turned into day and there was no sign of him. as you undressed from your stuffy white gown, you couldn't help but feel giddy. a large smile graced your features when art came to escort you back to the castle. the two of you were as giggly as hyenas during the carriage ride back home. that night the two of you snuck out of the castle and took a carriage ride to the nearest town. you spent most of the night at a local bar, drinking and singing your hearts out. when you both returned to the castle at sunrise, you shared a drunken kiss that neither of you would acknowledge for years.

as time passed, art was sent off to a knight training camp while you and your mother traveled the country looking for possible prospects. many men were interested in you–naturally–but you had very little to no interest in any of them. you would never admit it aloud but your heart was already occupied by art. you couldn’t bear to marry someone other than him but you knew you could not marry him so secretly you vowed to never marry. every suitor failed to meet the mark for you and so after nearly a year of looking, your mother gave up and the two of you returned home. throughout your traveling around the country, you hadn’t been able to keep in touch with art. you had tried but life was too busy to constantly send him letters about your day and he was too busy training each day to respond. the two of you had grown distant but you were determined to reunite with him once he returned from camp.

the moment you saw the gates opening and a carriage pulling in, you wasted no time rushing outside to go see art. he had hardly even stepped a foot onto the ground before you launched yourself at him. immediately you noticed the changes training had done to his body. he had once been awkward and lanky but now he had grown into his height and had muscle to accompany it. he held you with ease, as if you weighed as much as a feather.

art beamed when he saw you. he would never tell you but every night while at camp he dreamt of you. his dreams ranged from merely having conversations with you to him completely ravishing you late at night. “hello princess.” he greeted and you noticed that his voice had changed as well. it was deeper and smoother, almost like dark chocolate.

“i’ve missed you, art.” you gush, letting your feet return back to the ground. your eyes take in the sight of his face–from his crooked smile to his bright blue eyes and the hint of brown they have.

“that’s knight art to you.” he says and in return you lightly shove him. all throughout childhood art had teased that you would eventually have to call him by his position but it felt surreal now that it had come true.

“in that case you may no longer call me princess as i am a queen now.”

for a moment art’s expression faltered and the color faded from his face. “queen? your father passed?”

you nearly snorted at the look of distraughtness on the knight. “no silly! my father abdicated, making me queen.”

pure relief flooded art’s face. he’s sure that he’d be equally as devastated, if not more devastated than you if your father were to pass.

as the weeks passed the two of you fell into the routine that was new but also similar to the one you had growing up. early in the morning art would sneak into your room and wake you up, claiming that it’s his duty as your knight. during the day he’ll linger outside your office and peek his head in sometimes to watch you do your diplomatic duties. typically knights eat with the other workers but you forced him to eat in the dining hall with you and your parents. at night a knight will post guard outside your room while art lays with you until you fall asleep. he claims that it’s because someone needs to stay close with you at all times but he can’t resist stealing a kiss or two.

even though the two of you would never marry, it didn’t stop either you or art from loving each other.

#challengers #art donaldson #mike faist #art donaldson x you #art donalson x reader #princess!reader #knight!art donaldson #knight!art donaldson x princess!reader #prince!art donaldson #art donaldson fic #art donaldson smut

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lostintransist · 2 days ago

Text

Broken Beyond Bearing | Part 4

… -.-. —- .-. .—. .. —- / … - .. .-.. .-.. / .- -.-. - .. …- .

Part 1 found here | AO3

CW: restraints, shots (medicine), disassociation, unresolved sexual needs

Waking comes slowly. The scent of rut and pancakes oozes from under the door. For the sourness of your own scent, you had always been able to use your nose better than most people you met. Within two minutes of all the men coming down the stairs you knew the tallest one who glared at you, Simon they called him, would be starting his rut.

Realizing you could smell it coming you tried to warn betas if they were going into rut or heat. You stopped doing that when Sarah mentioned some of the betas requesting suppressants instead of dealing with their oncoming cycle.

“Something interesting happened today, I want to run it by you.”

Bitch smiled down at you where you lay strapped to the table, bit firmly wedged between your teeth. You had taken the tip of her finger the last time she had you on the table and didn’t seem keen to repeat the experience. Sarah had not let you brush your teeth for four days, ‘to teach you a lesson about biting the hand that feeds’ or some other bullshit. All you had learned is to love the taste of blood in your mouth.

“Seems some of our guests have decided that they are going into rut and would rather not deal with that,” Sarah uncapped a needle, drawing air into it before plunging it into a vial marked only with a serial number.

Squirming did nothing to put distance between you and the evils held in the tiny clear vial. Replacing the air for liquid Sarah set the vial down gently before swiveling to you. You hated those small stools with no backs and the stupid mint green painted along the walls. When you finally died from Sarah’s ‘care’ this is what hell would look like.

“They were bunking in your room, and they aren’t the first beta to request this after spending time with you,” she grabbed your arm, pinching up the muscle between her finger and thumb. “Seems like we need a bit more information about your brain.”

A sound from beyond the locked door to your room pulls you from the memory. Covered in sweat and panting you scramble off your bed and peer underneath it to confirm you were alone. Once your room confirmed its emptiness you stripped your night clothes off. You hated buttons on your sleeping outfits but you didn’t trust these men yet and refused to tell them anything if you could help it. Using the pant leg to wipe off as much of the fear sweat from your body as you could you then dress in a matching set of loose beige sweats. They reminded you of what Scorpio provided.

Opening your door you scan what you can of the room before sliding through the smallest space you could. The door is shut tight behind you. Stepping silently from years of practice sneaking around the various buildings you were housed in you find John asleep on the couch. He is passed out with only a pair of boxers on, bite marks littering his skin. The faintest smell of slick clings to him, you would have missed it at this distance if your nose weren’t so strong. Biting your tongue you force back the cries of your beta to join them in the nest upstairs. You were not invited.

A small fire burns in the stove, lifting the temperature of the room. A stack of pancakes sits on the counter covered with plastic cling. Glancing up the stairs you can hear small noises and grunts that would send you into a spiral if you listened for too long.

Making a decision you drift into the kitchen. Eating the pancakes dry is a choice. The number of times you have to pause chewing to release the bolus from the roof of your mouth? Annoying, but these were free pancakes. When your stomach begins to groan, a ship sinking too heavy under a load, you pause. A pancake and a half are left. Covering them back up with the cling warp you look around the kitchen. A bowl, several measuring cups, a pan, and a used plate and fork are all tossed in the sink.

This you could handle. One of your main duties for a long time had been cleaning dishes after meals. Finding the soap and a clean towel you set to work. Humming a song you had learned before going to Scorpio the sink is cleared and cleaned in no time.

John is still asleep on the couch when you finish. The fire is starting to burn down. The wood stacked near the stove tells you that the flames can be fed. Studying the black surface doesn’t give you any clue how you are supposed to add it without burning yourself. Waiting had become the option. Glancing around the couch you found a blanket laid neatly over the back of the couch tucked under John’s body. The idea of getting close enough to be touched sent shivers rolling down your back. Freezing it was then.

A flutter of movement at the back door drew you to the pocket of cold air lifting off the glass. Two crows, you think they are crows as you could never remember how to tell crows and ravens apart, are playing on the back porch. Calling it play seemed best. They both would pick up a small stick before waving it about, dropping it, and hopping about.

You must shift, or move in some way because they fly away in a flurry of caws. Their departure hits you in the chest. Birds had been something you missed the most. Outside time at Scorpio had been strictly regulated and no trees were ever allowed to grow tall or full enough to be welcoming for a family of birds or squirrels. Wishing had been your one way out; you always wished you had been born with wings. Pressing your fingertips to the glass you ignore the chill of the heat being stolen.

Stolen. That word rings through your brain, a dirge of a funeral march. Something changes, like the clang of the mausoleum gates slamming shut and a jubilee begins. You can go outside. No one is here to stop you. John is dead to the world and the others are busy. Nearly dancing on light toes you retrieve your outside wear from where you had stored it in your dresser yesterday.

Boots on you are reaching for your coat when you remember the shawl from Johnny, tucked between the mattress and the bed frame. He had tried to make you laugh yesterday. Telling you stories of his sister’s antics when they were kids or lining up jokes he would knock down like bowling pins the most he got from you had been a smile you couldn’t stop. The man looked like you had gifted him his wildest dreams when he caught sight of it. Another one hadn’t slipped out after that.

He was too damn nice to you. Nice only led to pain. Gods, you wanted this to be different than Scorpio. No one there who had any power had given you a gift though. That’s what he called it, a gift.

“Noticed you admiring it in the store lass. Figured if you ended up with us your life before must have been shite and a splash of color would bring a light to your eyes.” He had explained after dropping it over your shoulders and standing in the bite of the wind to look at the stars.

Staring at him for a few breaths as he grinned at you had been a surreal experience. Any care you had received in the last decade had been stolen in passing or shared under the watchful eye of staff. The open, blatant, outright loud acknowledgment hung from your shoulders in the dark. He had turned to the stars after you clutched the gift in your hand, worried he might take the soft shawl back.

The two of you finally worked your way back inside when you couldn’t feel the fingers anymore. Johnny had parted with a soft goodnight and disappeared up the stairs in the dim light that illuminated from the stove. The click of the door shutting upstairs had broken the spell over you. The lock thrown and the gift was tucked under the bed to keep it safe from a cursory glance.

Making a decision you pull it cautiously from below the mattress curling it around your body before hiding it below your coat. Sneaking out of your room once more you find yourself in the kitchen. Taking the plate you leave the cling wrap in a ball on the counter. No alarm rings when you slide open the back door, the crunch of the snow beneath your boots the only sound that breaks the perfect silence.

Tucked in the corner under a tarp you see what looks like a stack of chairs. Glancing from the could-be chairs to the corner railing where you had seen the crows playing. Making a decision, you tear off two small-ish chunks of pancake and clear the snow from a portion of the wide railing top. Setting your offerings down you set about freeing a chair for yourself.

Waiting had been a skill you cultivated at Scorpio. You could leave your body behind and fly with wings longer than the cabin you stayed in. Sat as far from the railing as you could be time slips by as you wait for the possibility of them returning. A sound draws you from your internal world. Focusing your eyes on the sound without moving your body you find them. Swallowing down your offering the crows eye you.

Moving with exaggerated slowness you tear off two more morsels and toss them to the crows. The aim is off and they land in the snow on the floor of the porch. Beyond returning your hand to your lap you practice stillness. They take the offering. This continues, you tossing pancakes across the distance and them accepting. One of them offers a loud caw which causes you to jump. Both birds take flight at your sudden movement.

Cursing under your breath at your carelessness you stand. Taking the plate in hand you turn and scream, the plate flying out of your hands and into the deep drifts of snow next to the porch. John is watching you through the back door, blanket cocooned around his body. Two fingers wiggle from between the folds, motioning you in.

He steps back after opening the sliding door for you. He waits until you have stomped the snow off your boots on the rug set up for that purpose to ask you anything.

“Did that help?”

Pausing, a hand on the wall as you step on the back of one boot you send him a look.

He points with his chin toward the little crow prints in the snow.

“The birds. Did they help?”

Help? Help what? You feel less like you were dying? Help this place feel less like a prison and more like a hospice?

You study his face, attempting to parse out what question he asked below the one he spoke. In time you would see the him that harmed. It happened with every member of staff at Scorpio. Never trust their smiles, always trust their eyes had been the mantra, creed passed to each new beta. John’s eyes held only neutral curiosity. Nodding once, you focused on removing your boots.

“I’ll get you bird food for them the next time we are in town,” John nodded once and wandered away to the bathroom most likely from where he headed.

Setting your coat on a hook next to the door you trailed him with your eyes. You wondered once again what Kate had been thinking when she dropped you off here.

Before you could decide on her motives Johnny appeared at the top of the stairs. With a pair of sweats and a pullover hoodie, he had much more clothes on than the last man to leave that room. His hand gripped the railing tight as he gingerly worked his body down each step. Simon must be a rough lover through his ruts. Shuddering with memories veiled under the cast of drugs you didn’t notice Johnny getting closer until the smell of sex washed through your nose.

“You’re wearing it,” he sighed as if you had lifted a burden from him by doing so.

Folding your arms across it you glare at him.

“It was a gift,” you reply tersely.

A hand is lifted, finger crooked as if to brush down your arm. Johnny pulls back before touching you. Mixed feelings rise. You would have bit him if he tried to touch you but a part of you screamed to the point of vomiting when he didn’t connect.

A gentle smile breaks over his face, dawn over the desert, as his gaze finds yours.

“It is a gift. I’m glad you like it.”

Your stomach flipped over in its limited space in your body. Squeezing yourself tight you fight down the beta urge to lick him, to suck the scent of sex from his gland and into yourself.

Movement from behind him has you glancing at John who had returned settled a hand on Johnny’s shoulder and a kiss to his temple.

“Leave her be, we need to get food ready for lunch. Can you show her how to load the stove? The latch is being tricky again.”

Johnny leaned into the touch, clearly comforted by the contact. His eyes drifted lazily along the wall as he listened.

It didn’t make any sense to you. John and Johnny were both omegas, their scents confirmed it again and again, but they never acted like any of the omegas you had dealt with. Acting as equals often, even to their alpha counterparts, it confused you why they all allowed John to lead them. They broke every rule that had been beaten into you.

Nodding, Johnny turned and dropped a kiss on John’s lips before heading to the stove. John shuffled into the kitchen, opening the fridge and cupboards and pulling out various items.

“Hey Sprinkles, come on over. The stove needs fed.”

Looking around the room you try and figure out who Johnny might be talking to. When you lift a brow at him he grins, wide and mischievous.

“Yes, you. The shawl makes you look like a bowl of rainbow sprinkles. Now come on, let’s get this done and then you can tell me what you enjoy doing so we can find you something to fill your day with.”

Joining Johnny at the stove you learn how to open, feed, clean, and start a fire to warm the house up. The explanations he gave were clear and concise. You fed a few pieces in, confidence growing with each word of praise from his lips.

When the door is closed and the living spaces much warmer you follow Johnny into the kitchen. A pot with a lid not sitting fully on simmered away and a bowl with a towel sat in the corner. On the main part of the counter, a large platter of meats, cheeses, nuts, fruits, and vegetables drew in the eye.

John shoveled food into his mouth before disappearing with a nod. Kyle appeared next, smelling of sex too. He ate with the same ravenous hunger Johnny and John showed. You picked at your food, slipping pieces of cheese and cured meats into your pockets to hide for later.

After both men had gorged themselves on a meal they showed you where the TV and their collections of shows and movies lived. The newest one you recognized had been from nine years ago. Ads had been playing for it before you ended up with Scorpio. Excusing yourself to the bathroom you detour to place your extras in your pillow. After the men go to sleep tonight you would find a safer way of storing the food.

Curling into the corner of the couch to watch a show that looked interesting the men gave you a cushion as space as they twined around one another. Sometime later John replaced Johnny on the couch and you drifted in a half-awake state ignoring the throbbing need between your legs that spiked with each heady draft that reached your nose when the men took their shifts with Simon.

This routine went on for two days. They were such long days.

Broken Masterlist | Masterlist

@lucienofthelakes @gg-trini @talia-the-gemini @thriving-n-jiving @z-wantstowrite @asialovesyou09 @literallegendicon @canthavetoomuchchaos @reinekoya @jsptmoche @demothers-empty-blog @hbaasaad @sun-daddy-yoriichi @wiciclesatmidnight @kaoyamamegami @little-mini-me-world @corvid007 @skeletonsucker @feyresqueen

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daeniradraconis · 1 day ago

Text

Faceoff with Love - Jack Hughes

Summary: Jack Hughes. The NHL’s ultimate manwhore. King of confidence. Untouchable… or at least, that’s what he thought. Until he falls hard.

Warning: Implied sexual situations, mature language, nothing too wild or serious

Hey, lovelies! 💕 This is Jack's story, the next installment in what I’ve officially named The Hughes Effect Saga—because let’s be real, every brother deserves their own story. I couldn’t resist giving the main characters names since this universe is growing, and honestly, trying to write it without them would’ve been mission impossible. So, just a heads-up: Thea is Luke’s love interest! (Though if you’ve read Age Is Just a Number…Right?, you won’t see her mentioned there, since that one started as a standalone one-shot.) You can read this without reading Age Is Just a Number, but it definitely gives you more background on Jack's story if you do!

Not gonna lie, this one took forever to write. It ended up being 16,472 words and 42 pages in my Word doc—so, yeah… buckle up! 😅

Hope you love reading it as much as I loved writing it! ❤️

For more fun: masterlist

—-

Jack Hughes, star of the New Jersey Devils, was enjoying a normal morning—until the noises coming from his little brother Luke’s room hijacked his thoughts. Jack had always been supportive of Luke, and he was genuinely happy for him. After all, Luke and his girlfriend had been through a lot—the pressures of the NHL, the relentless fans, and everything in between had made starting their relationship anything but easy. He knew how much effort they both put in to make it work, and he couldn’t help but admire them for it.

But the sounds from the next room? That was a different story. Jack tried to block it out, but it was impossible. The muffled conversations—and those other noises—had a way of seeping into his mind. It wasn’t just the invasion of privacy that bothered him, though. It was what he’d learned that really threw him off: Luke’s kink.

Some things were best left unsaid, behind closed doors. But there was Luke, sounding way too eager to ask permission for... well, things Jack had no business hearing. It was burned into his brain, and he couldn’t unhear it.

“Yeah, no. Nope. That’s it. I need to get out of here,” Jack muttered, dragging a hand down his face.

With a groan, he kicked off the covers, grabbed a hoodie from the back of the couch, and yanked it over his head. “I need bleach. For my ears. And my soul.”

A coffee shop seemed like the safest escape—loud espresso machines, the comforting scent of fresh beans… anything to erase whatever the hell he’d just overheard.

As he stepped outside, he let out a deep breath, shaking off the lingering ick of the morning. He had morning skates later anyway, so at least this way, he’d be caffeinated and mentally prepared before hitting the ice.

By the time Jack reached the coffee shop, the tension in his shoulders had finally eased, the crisp morning air doing its job in clearing his head. As he pushed open the door, the familiar chime jingled, welcoming him into the warm, cozy space. It wasn’t crowded—just a handful of people tapping away at laptops, a few others lost in their books, the low hum of conversation filling the air.

Jack stepped into line, a slow grin tugging at his lips as he took in the room. He could feel it—the shift in energy, the way conversations quieted just slightly, the not-so-subtle glances thrown his way. He walked in like he owned the place. And in a way, he kind of did. Not literally, of course, but the moment he stepped inside, it was obvious—people noticed.

A couple of girls in the corner glanced up, whispering behind their hands. The old man at the corner table did a double take. A guy in line nudged his friend, a knowing smirk passing between them. Jack thrived on it. The attention, the recognition—it was something he was used to, and he had no problem leaning into it.

His gaze swept over the room, naturally lingering on the women who were stealing glances at him. A cocky smirk curled at the corner of his lips, and just for fun, he threw in a wink. A playful smile for good measure. Yeah, he knew the effect he had. Confidence? Absolutely. Arrogance? Maybe just a little. But it was the kind of charm that turned heads, and really, who could blame him? Jack Hughes wasn’t just another guy in the crowd—he was the one people noticed.

And he loved every second of it.

Jack was used to this. It was familiar. Easy. But then—he saw her.

She wasn’t looking at him. She wasn’t whispering about him, or sneaking glances, or batting her lashes like so many others did. She was behind the counter, focused on her work, crafting drinks with effortless precision, her movements fluid and practiced. There was something about her—a quiet warmth, a presence that made the entire room feel at ease. She wasn’t just beautiful; it was the way she carried herself. Feminine yet self-assured, graceful but never trying too hard.

Jack felt it immediately—the pull. Like gravity.

His heart did this stupid little stutter, and before he even realized it, he was just standing there. Staring. What the hell?

This wasn’t him. Jack Hughes didn’t freeze up over a girl. He’d had flings, fun, no-strings-attached moments. He knew how to flirt, how to charm, how to walk away before things got complicated. But right now? None of that seemed to matter.

Get it together, Hughes, he muttered under his breath, forcing himself to look away.

But then, as if she’d felt his gaze, she looked up. Their eyes met.

And in that instant, something shifted.

It was subtle. Electric. She had this knowing look on her face, like she could see right through him. Like she already had him figured out before he could even open his mouth.

And for the first time in a long time, Jack Hughes wasn’t the one in control.

Jack leaned on the counter, trying to play it cool, but he couldn’t shake the pull he felt toward her. When she finally looked up, their eyes met, and for a second, the usual confidence he wore like a second skin seemed to fade.

She raised an eyebrow as she set her hands on the counter, a half-smirk forming on her lips. "Can I help you?"

Jack blinked, catching himself. "Uh, that depends. You serving coffee... or are you in the business of making guys fall in love too?" he said with a grin, though it came out a little less smooth than he intended.

She didn’t even flinch. "Just coffee. And bad pickup lines? They cost extra."

Jack chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. "Ouch. Brutal." He leaned in, dropping the cocky act just a little. "Alright, alright. I’ll take a latte. And a blueberry muffin. Gotta keep it classic, you know?"

"Classic? More like predictable," she replied, tossing a glance over her shoulder as she started on his drink.

Jack raised an eyebrow. "You analyzing me now?"

She didn’t even look at him as she spoke. "Not really. Just guessing you’re the type who thinks a smirk and a couple of cheesy lines will get you anything you want."

Jack froze for a moment, a little taken aback. "Whoa, right in the heart," he said, putting his hand over his chest in mock offense.

She didn’t even look at him this time. "You’ll survive. Might even build some character," she added casually as she reached for the milk steamer.

Jack smirked, his confidence flickering back. "Character, huh? I’ve got plenty. Some might even say too much."

She glanced up then, eyes dancing with a mixture of amusement and disbelief. "Yeah? And who exactly are these 'some'?"

He leaned in a little closer, almost leaning on the counter now. "Oh, you know... fans, teammates, my mom... definitely my mom." He winked.

She let out a small laugh, shaking her head, her fingers expertly crafting the latte. "Uh-huh. Sure, sounds legit."

Jack leaned back a bit, watching her. There was something about how she didn’t let him off the hook. It was... refreshing. "So what’s it gonna take?" he asked, trying to play it cool again.

"For what?" She finally met his gaze, eyebrows raised.

"For you to admit you’re already a little bit in love with me," he said with a teasing grin, like it was the most natural thing in the world.

She slid his drink across the counter without a hint of hesitation. "Jack Hughes, right?"

His grin widened. "So you do know me."

"Oh, I know of you," she said, turning away to grab a napkin, clearly unfazed. "You’re a good player."

Jack straightened up, puffing out his chest. "Great player," he corrected her, but his tone was light, playful.

She looked over her shoulder, deadpan. "On the ice."

Jack laughed softly, the sting of her words taking a second to hit. "Damn, alright. Tough crowd."

She smiled, but it wasn’t the soft, flirty smile he expected. It was knowing. Like she already saw right through him. "Seen your type before. You walk in, flash a smile, throw out a line or two, and think the world’s just gonna roll over for you."

Jack leaned in again, his grin slipping into something more genuine. "And yet, here you are... still talking to me. Guess you must like it."

She hummed, considering this, before turning back to the machine. "Or maybe I just like watching a guy slowly realize he’s not as smooth as he thinks he is."

Jack’s smirk returned, and he picked up his drink. "So this is how it’s gonna be, huh?"

She winked, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Oh, Hughes. You have no idea."

He laughed, shaking his head as he grabbed his muffin. "I’ve got to run. Practice later... but I’ll be back. You’re an interesting one." He winked, letting the last word linger a little longer than usual.

“Do not threaten me, Hughes,” she shot back, her voice dry but that little smile tugging at the corner of her lips.

Jack turned to leave, his mind still buzzing from their conversation. He could feel her eyes on his back as he walked out the door, but this time, it wasn’t the usual adrenaline of a win. It was something else.

Maybe... just maybe, she was right. He was used to being in control, but with her? Yeah, she wasn’t having any of it.

—

The ice cream shop had a laid-back atmosphere, with a few customers scattered across the tables, quietly enjoying their frozen treats. The soft hum of conversation blended with the occasional clink of spoons against bowls and the low buzz of the freezer in the corner. The casual, easygoing vibe was the perfect backdrop for Jack to make his usual, attention-grabbing announcement.

“So, I met a girl,” he said casually, his grin practically glowing with satisfaction.

Luke didn’t even look up, already bracing himself for whatever absurdity was coming. Jack had that look—an announcement, followed by something outlandish. Thea, however, shot him a pointed glance, arching a brow in that skeptical way she did so well.

“Oh, here we go,” she muttered, barely containing her amusement.

Jack scoffed. “Wow, way to be supportive.”

Thea smirked, scooping a spoonful of chocolate ice cream into her mouth. “No, it’s just... every time you drop that line, I know I’m about to hear some delusional story about how she’s already swooning over you.” She shrugged with a grin. “Which, let’s be honest, is usually true. Flash that smile, and bam! Girls are basically tripping over themselves for you.”

Jack leaned back, clearly relishing the attention. “Exactly. It’s a gift.”

Thea rolled her eyes and casually tossed her hair over her shoulder. “No, it’s just an ego boost. You’re like a baby with a bottle—constantly sucking up the attention.”

Jack, looking entirely unbothered, twirled his spoon. “Can you blame me? I mean, why not appreciate what I’ve got?”

Luke looked up now, giving Jack a resigned look. He was ready for the same tired routine. “Jack, have you ever thought that maybe—just maybe—not every girl is going to fall for your whole act?”

Jack shot him a glance like he’d just suggested the most absurd thing. “Why would I think that? It’s never happened.” He paused, then added with a touch of uncertainty, “Okay, she’s a tough one, but she’ll come around. I think she just likes to play hard to get.” He could see the truth in her eyes—she wasn’t interested—but admitting that wasn’t an option. Not with his brother and Thea around.

Thea snorted, clearly amused. “Oh, the delusion’s strong with this one.”

Jack leaned forward slightly, tapping his fingers on the table with a confident smirk. “I’m not delusional, I’m just a realist. And the reality is... I’m me.” He paused for effect. “And I don’t lose.”

Thea let out a dramatic laugh, clearly enjoying herself. “Oh, this is gonna be good.”

Jack frowned, confused. “What’s so funny?”

Thea took another bite of her cone, her grin widening. “You. Thinking you’re untouchable. I love the confidence, but one day, some girl’s going to make you look like a fool.”

Jack scoffed, shaking his head. “Please. Do you have any idea how many girls would kill for a shot with me? I could walk out of here and just point at someone, and they'd be all over me.”

Luke, who had been watching the exchange unfold, finally spoke up. “Yeah, except for this one. I’m guessing she’s got a little more sense than that.”

Jack groaned, dramatically rubbing his face with his hand and shooting Luke an exasperated "you little shit" look. “Oh, come on. You make it sound like I don’t have options. I’m Jack Hughes guys—the same guy who got a date with three different girls at last week’s game.”

Thea rolled her eyes again. “Oh yeah, that’s really a sign of emotional maturity.” She shot Luke a knowing look.

Luke just smiled faintly, shaking his head. “If Jack’s ego ever took a hit, we'd probably need a whole therapy session.”

Jack flashed a smug grin, fully aware they were kind of right. “Ego? What ego? I’m just stating the facts.”

Thea leaned in, her eyes twinkling with mischief. “Sure. State your facts. But you’re missing one thing, Jack.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “And what’s that?”

She tilted her head, clearly loving the moment. “This girl doesn’t want you.”

Jack’s smile faltered just a touch, but he quickly recovered. “Everybody wants me.”

Thea shook her head, the smirk never leaving her face. She opened her mouth to speak, but Jack jumped in before she could.

“Okay, maybe except you!” He threw his hands up in mock frustration. “But that’s not my charm’s fault. You just have a thing for younger guys, so I never stood a chance. You pedo…”

Thea’s cheeks flushed, and she slapped his arm lightly, her voice a mix of disbelief and amusement. “Jack, you can’t call me that, you arrogant prick! Show some respect to your elders!”

Jack smirked, unfazed. “Oh, yes, yes… sorry, Ms. Senior Citizen.”

Luke chuckled softly, shaking his head. He couldn’t help but be impressed with how Thea had grown into herself. At first, their six-year age gap had made her uneasy, but Jack, being Jack, never passed up a chance to remind her of it. Luke knew Jack played this game on purpose—his teasing made Thea realize the age gap wasn’t as big of a deal as she’d thought. And over time, she’d become more confident, even starting to enjoy Jack’s dark humor. Of course, she’d never admit it, and Luke was thankful for that. Jack didn’t need any more ego boosts.

“This is going to be a disaster,” Luke muttered under his breath, as if preparing himself for the inevitable chaos. It wasn’t a prediction—it was a certainty. Jack wasn’t going to let this girl slip away, he new that.

Jack waved him off, though his signature, idiotic grin only grew wider. “Relax, Lukey. I’m unstoppable. She’s going to like me. Trust me.”

Luke sighed, leaning back in his chair, his fingers pressing against his temples as he massaged his forehead. “Ohhh, this is going to be such a disaster.”

Jack finished off his ice cream, still blissfully unaware of the train wreck he was about to walk into. “You two are the worst. But mark my words, she’s going to like me.”

Thea winked at him. “No, we’re just not here to feed your delusion, Jacky. You could use a reality check every once in a while.”

Jack rolled his eyes, the mischievous grin still tugging at his lips. “You know what, Lukey? Maybe you should upgrade her to someone a little younger…”

“JACK!” Luke and Thea shouted in unison, but Jack only laughed, clearly finding his own joke far too hilarious.

—

Jack pushed open the door to the coffee shop, the familiar chime of the bell ringing through the night air, but tonight, it sounded more hollow than usual.

It was late—too late—the kind of late when the world seems to shrink into itself, wrapped in the silence of the night. The air carried the warm scent of coffee and sweet pastries, but Jack barely noticed. His mind was still spinning from the game. The Devils had lost, and his mood mirrored the dark sky outside—heavy, empty, and far too cold. Yet, despite the bitterness of defeat lingering in his chest, there was something else that kept nagging at him.

He wanted to see her.

The girl behind the counter.

It was absurd, he knew. He didn’t even know her name. But ever since the game ended—ever since he’d sat in the locker room, listening to Nico’s half-hearted attempts at positivity—his thoughts kept drifting back to her. Why? It didn’t make sense.

He glanced around, expecting the usual warmth and buzz of conversation that made the place feel so cozy. But tonight was different.

The lights were dim, and the usual chatter had faded—most likely because it was just two minutes to closing, and the last of the customers had trickled out.

Jack’s eyes immediately found her behind the counter. The girl from before.

The moment she saw him, her expression shifted, just slightly—a brief flicker of annoyance before her face went completely neutral. He could tell she wasn’t exactly thrilled to see him, especially not this late.

Jack leaned against the counter, flashing his trademark easy smile. “Hey there.”

She looked up, the briefest flicker of recognition crossing her face before it disappeared. She sighed quietly, clearly not in the mood. "You again," she muttered under her breath, forcing a smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. "What do you want this time?"

Jack grinned, undeterred by her tone. “Actually, I realized I never got your name last time.”

She blinked, taken aback. “Seriously? You came all the way back just for my name?” She paused, voice dripping with sarcasm. “I must be pretty special, huh?”

Jack shrugged like it was no big deal. “Guess I was too busy trying to charm you last time. But hey, I did promise I’d come back.” He leaned in slightly, his voice lowering. “So now that I’m here… what’s your name?”

She rolled her eyes but grabbed some fresh milk from under the counter. “It’s Anja,” she said flatly.

Jack raised an eyebrow, as if savoring the name. “Anja, huh? Definitely sounds foreign.”

Anja shot him a dry look, hands almost slamming the milk into the fridge. “Yep. My dad’s German, my mom’s from New Jersey. Pretty exotic, right?”

Jack’s grin faltered for a moment, surprised. “Wait—your dad’s from Germany? That’s… interesting.” He paused, then added with a laugh. “That’s one combo I didn’t expect. My buddy Nico’s German too. He was born in Switzerland.”

Anja froze, staring at him. Then blinked slowly. “Wait—what?”

Jack, clearly proud of his random connection, rushed on, oblivious to her confusion. “Yeah, Nico’s our captain, super chill guy. Always telling me I should visit him in Switzerland one summer. We haven’t done it yet, but maybe next year. He’s like a brother to me, honestly. Don’t tell my real brothers, though—they’d flip. They get jealous if I even mention Nico.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, already knowing Jack had a habit of overestimating the significance of himself. She stared at him for a moment, then couldn’t help it—she burst into laughter. “No, Jack… Switzerland’s not in Germany!” She bent forward slightly, clearly enjoying his discomfort.

Jack blinked, feeling a little foolish, but he wasn’t about to back down. “What? It’s a county in Germany, right? Somewhere near... uh, Munich…?”

Anja’s eyes widened, her expression a mix of disbelief and amusement. She let out a laugh, half-pitying, half-astonished. “Oh my God, Hughes. Switzerland and Germany are two completely different countries.” She shook her head slowly, as if he’d just told her the Earth was flat. “You’re telling me your best friend’s from Switzerland, and you have no idea where the hell is that? Seriously, could you be more American?”

Jack winced, but a grin quickly crept back onto his face, clearly unbothered by his own ignorance. “Hey, don’t forget, you’re half American too, so no need to get all high and mighty on me.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, her grin widening as she crossed her arms.“Sweetie, you’re the one who thought Switzerland was a county.”

Jack shrugged with a playful grin, raising his hands in mock surrender, his smile never faltering. “Alright, fine. But I’ll take this as a win. I’ve officially upgraded to the ‘sweetie’ category.”

Anja shook her head, still chuckling at his relentless self-confidence. “A lost cause, Hughes. That’s what you are… a lost cause.” She gave him an exasperated look, but the corner of her mouth quirked up. “Maybe try opening some books next time. Girls like guys with an actual brain.”

Jack waved it off dismissively. “I’ll let you know I do read. But yeh my brother Quinn is the nerd. Seriously bookish. Let me tell you, it’s not helping him. He’s got zero game.”

Anja flashed a playful grin and leaned in closer, the sudden proximity making Jack’s heart skip a beat. Her perfume—a fresh, orange scent that reminded him of a rain-drenched forest—hit him like a bolt of lightning. It was warm, feminine, and intoxicating. He couldn’t help but notice the way the scent seemed to pull him closer, but he did his best to keep it together.

She lowered her voice just enough to make him focus. “Or maybe... he’s just a normal guy who doesn’t want every woman’s panties to drop the second he meets them.”

Jack swallowed, his eyes flicking to her mouth, noticing the way her lips parted just slightly as she spoke. He tried to focus, but the air between them was thick with tension, the heat of her so close to him throwing him off. “Or maybe…” He leaned in, his voice dropping low, his words teasing as his gaze lingered on her lips. “He just overthinks everything. Sometimes you just have to go with the flow in life, you know?”

Anja shook her head with a soft smile, muttering under her breath as she crossed her arms. “As I said, lost cause,” she added, only half-amused, half-exasperated.

Jack laughed, relieved she was still in the game. He gave her a wink, the confidence in his smile almost irresistible. “But a charming, good-looking, lost cause, right?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the smile tugging at her lips and the amusement in her eyes made it clear she wasn’t really bothered. Her eyes briefly caught his, and for the first time, she noticed how his blue eyes weren’t just any shade—they had this grayish undertone that made them look almost stormy. It was enough to make her pause for a moment, but she snapped back to the banter with a playful glint. “You really should’ve opened a geography book sometime. You can’t disrespect your friend this much. At least learn the basics about the poor guy’s life if you want to be his bestie.”

Jack’s grin widened as he leaned in, his light brown wavy hair falling slightly into his eyes, his expression a mix of challenge and charm. “Hey—I’d happily let you teach me about Switzerland... or anything else. To be fair, I’d let you do anything with me.”

Anja let out a breathless laugh at his boldness, shaking her head, but her eyes softened as she met his gaze. “Yeah, keep dreaming, Jack.”

Jack winked. “Believe me I will. But seriously—just give me a chance. Let me prove myself to you.” Anja rolled her eyes again, but the smile tugging at her lips gave her away. “Whatever, Jack. You can beg, but the answer is still no.”

Jack didn’t hesitate. The thought struck him like a bolt of lightning, and before he could second-guess himself, he dropped to his knees with all the dramatic flair he could muster, looking up at her with wide, pleading eyes.

Anja froze, her eyes wide, the mug she’d been about to place on the shelf still dangling in mid-air. “What the hell are you doing?!” she asked, her voice a mix of confusion and something else—amusement, maybe. It was hard to tell.

Jack tilted his head, a playful glint in his eyes, still kneeling with a grin that stretched wider. “You said I can beg, but I wasn’t really begging yet, was I? Let me show you just how good I can be at it.” He fluttered his lashes and gave her the full-on puppy-dog eyes, cranking up the charm.

Anja stared at him for a solid minute, her brain clearly processing the absurdity of the situation. Then, as if a switch had flipped, she burst out laughing. “You’re insane,” she said, shaking her head, stepping back like she needed to regain some personal space from this level of ridiculousness.

Jack, still on his knees, leaned in a bit closer with dramatic theatrics, his grin widening. He clasped his hands together like he was about to give a TED talk.

"Anja, hear me out," he began, voice dripping with over-the-top sincerity. "I know you think I’m a lost cause, but I’m not just any lost cause. I’m your lost cause. And let me tell you why."

He paused for effect, then continued, ticking off his points like a lawyer making a case. "First off, I’m a party. You want a good time? I’m your guy. I can keep things fun, always ready for an adventure, never a dull moment."

He held up a finger, ready to deliver his second point. "Next, I’m a manwhore. And I know what you’re thinking—‘Jack, that sounds bad!’ But no, hear me out. Being a manwhore means experience. I know how to make people laugh, I know how to charm, I know how to—" He shot her a wink. "Well, I know how to do a lot of things. So... experience? Check."

Jack then leaned back dramatically, spreading his arms out. "And, let’s not forget, I’m a hockey player. I’m rich, athletic, and—" he gave her a sly grin, flexing his arm slightly, "look at these muscles. I’ve got the athletic build, which means a lot of energy to spare. And when I’m not working out, I’m probably... in the kitchen making all the mistakes with cooking. And that’s actually a good thing! Because you—" he pointed at her, "You can be the queen of the kitchen, living out your baking dreams while I try not to set the stove on fire. My kitchen? Practically untouched, new condition. You can take over anytime."

Anja rolled her eyes, but she wasn’t ready for what came next. Jack, still grinning, suddenly pulled his shirt up slightly to expose a well-defined set of abs. His muscles flexed with a little extra dramatic flair. "See this?" He flexed again, holding the pose for a moment. "Hard work, dedication... and honestly, a whole lot of charm. You can’t argue with that, right?"

Anja froze, her eyes wide with disbelief. She stood there for a moment, trying to process what she was seeing, before rushing to Jack. Kneeling beside him, she reached for his shirt, fingers scrambling to grab the fabric. She shot him a look of shock. “Oh my God, Jack, put it down! This is insane.” She yanked at his shirt, but Jack grabbed her wrist. His grip was unshakable, and he used his position on the ground to keep her from pulling away.

He moved closer, a glint of mischief in his eyes, clearly enjoying every moment of his act. “I’m just proving a point. I’m the full package, Anja—athletic, a manwhore, experienced, and a terrible cook. The perfect guy to have fun!”

Anja gave him a look that was half disbelief, half amusement—as if saying, "Even you don’t believe this." She tried to pull her hand away, but Jack kept his grip tight, holding her wrist steady as his grin grew wider.

Jack shrugged, unfazed by the situation. “Alright, alright, maybe my geography’s a little off. But here’s the deal: You get to be the smart one with all the answers, and I’ll just nod and smile while you school me. It’ll be your show—I’m basically signing up to be your personal cheerleader. You’re the brains, I’ll be the brawn. Need a little backup? I’m your guy.”

Anja shot him a pointed, exasperated look, surprised but slightly amused as he kept his hold on her wrist. “So, Anja, what do you think? I’m the full package—fun, rich, athletic, kind, supportive, and amazing. What more could you possibly want?”

Despite herself, Anja laughed, though she fought to hold her composure. “This is the worst pitch I’ve ever heard in my life, Jack. Seriously, put your shirt down already.”

But Jack didn’t move an inch. "You know you want to. I’m practically giving you the world here. I can be your support, your personal cheerleader. You’ll be the brains of the relationship, and I’ll—"

"—Be the ‘muscles,’ right?" Anja interrupted, raising an eyebrow, her lips twitching into a smirk.

"Exactly! I'll be your biggest fan, always backing you up. And hey, I’m probably the best at making people laugh too.”

Anja couldn’t help but stare at him—this insufferably stubborn, over-the-top guy—and, much to her own surprise, found herself laughing again. “Hughes, you’re a complete idiot. But fine,” she sighed, shaking her head, “I’ll give it to you—you’ve got muscles... and, I guess that counts for something?”

Jack shot her a wink. “Oh, it counts for everything, Anja. Everything. So, what do you say? One coffee, no weirdness?”

Anja hesitated, still gripping his shirt, then let out a long sigh. "Fine. One coffee. But just so we're clear, Hughes—this is strictly a friend thing. No boyfriend talk. I’m not looking for anything, and I definitely can’t handle you as my boyfriend.”

Jack released her wrist, smoothing out his shirt, his grin still in place but with a spark of mischief in his eyes. “Deal. I’ll settle for the friend date. A desperate man takes what he can get.”

Anja rolled her eyes, half amused. "Just... no flexing, alright?"

Jack chuckled, giving her a mock salute. “Alright, alright—I'll behave.”

–

And Jack wasn't lying, about him being on his good behaviour.

He pulled up in his sleek car just as Anja finished her shift a couple days later. The neon lights of the coffee shop flickering behind her. She stepped out into the crisp evening air, shaking off the exhaustion of her shift, her apron swapped for a simple jacket. Jack leaned over from the driver’s seat, his grin wide, like a cat who’d just caught its prey.

“Ready for our coffee date, Anja?”

Anja rolled her eyes dramatically as she slid into the car, amusement flickering across her face.“It’s a friend date, Jack,” she corrected, her voice dripping with mock annoyance. “And what’s the plan? Where are we going?”

Jack’s grin widened. “Well, about that…” He gestured toward the empty streets. “It’s a bit late, and all the normal coffee shops are closed. But don’t worry, I’ve got a backup plan.”

Anja raised an eyebrow.”Yeh that's what I’m afraid of.”

“No, no. You’ll love this. Trust me.”Jack chuckled.

A few minutes later, they pulled up to an old, charming bookstore that looked like it belonged in another era—warm light spilling from its windows, a glowing sign that read Open 24 Hours. It had the kind of inviting presence that made you want to step inside and stay awhile.

Jack parked and motioned for Anja to follow him in.

“This is… a bookstore?” she asked, her tone laced with skepticism but also curiosity. As she stepped through the door, the scent of old pages and freshly brewed coffee wrapped around her like a comforting embrace.

“Not just any bookstore,” he said, his tone teasing. “It’s got a coffee shop inside. And pastries. Perfect place for a late-night coffee date, if you ask me.” Jack flashed a smirk, leading her toward the back. “And you thought I’ve never read a book in my entire life—guess I’ll just have to prove you wrong.”

Anja smiled sweetly, shaking her head as she followed him. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?”

“Not ridiculous. Creative,” Jack corrected with a grin.

Inside, a barista was still serving warm drinks to a couple of late-night readers, the soft hum of conversation blending seamlessly with the crackling of an old record playing in the background. Cozy armchairs and beanbags were scattered throughout the room, creating an intimate, almost dreamlike atmosphere.

Anja glanced around, taking it all in. The soft lighting, the inviting scent of coffee and something sweet—chocolate, maybe—it all made the space feel like a quiet little world of its own. A place where time didn’t feel so urgent. “Okay… I’ll admit, this is actually kind of nice. Cozy, even.”

Jack flopped onto a nearby beanbag, a self-satisfied grin on his face. “See? You can’t always judge a book by its cover.”

Anja groaned. “You’ve been in prime form tonight, haven’t you?”

“Hey, I’ve got plenty more where that came from,” he shot back, flashing her another confident smile.

He studied her for a moment before speaking again, his tone softer. “What if we swap coffee for hot chocolate instead?” His playful edge had slipped away a little. “Figured something warm and sweet might be better this late.”

Anja raised an eyebrow, surprised by the sudden thoughtfulness. “Hmm, actually, that sounds really good. It is too late for coffee, and I could use a decent night’s sleep for once.”

Jack’s smile deepened, satisfied with her answer. “Good choice,” he said with a wink before heading to the counter.

When he came back, he wasn’t just carrying hot chocolate. Along with the two steaming mugs, he had a plate of warm pastries, their flaky layers golden and crisp. He set everything on the small coffee table between their beanbags, the sweet smell of cocoa and butter filling the air. Something about the simple gesture—just them, the warmth, the food—made the moment feel unexpectedly intimate.

Anja dropped her coat to the floor and sank into her beanbag, letting out a soft sigh as she got comfortable. Everything about this night felt softer, easier than she’d expected.

“I really wasn’t expecting this… but it’s nice.” She reached for her mug, glancing at him. “Just don’t let the compliment go to your head.”

Jack smirked as he leaned back, his eyes gleaming with amusement. “No promises.” He picked up a pastry and held it out to her. "I figured you'd appreciate a little something sweet to go with the moment."

Anja hesitated for only a second before taking the pastry. As she bit into it, the warm layers melted on her tongue, and she let out an involuntary hum of satisfaction.

“Okay,” she admitted, taking another bite. “You’re definitely not wrong about this.”

Jack watched her, the sound of her hum catching him off guard, a hint of something shifting in his chest.

As they sipped their hot chocolate the café around them felt like its own little world—soft lighting, the distant murmur of pages turning, the quiet clinking of mugs against saucers.

Anja curled deeper into her beanbag, fingers wrapped around her mug, letting its warmth seep into her hands. Jack stretched out in his seat, looking just as content, his usual energy softened.

When they finished, Jack set his mug down with a satisfied sigh and shot Anja a look. Then, without warning, he reached for her hand and pulled her up.

“Alright, let’s go,” he said, a mischievous glint in his eyes.

Anja blinked. “Go where?”

He gestured toward the shelves. “You can’t just sit in a bookstore café and not browse. That’s practically a crime.”

She huffed a laugh but let him lead her toward the towering bookshelves. As they wandered through the aisles, Anja ran her fingers over worn spines, occasionally picking up a book to flip through. Jack did the same, moving ahead of her, plucking books off the shelves without much thought.

At first, she didn’t pay much attention to his choices—until she caught a glimpse of the titles in his hands. The Odyssey. Moby Dick. War and Peace.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” she said, staring at him like he’d just grown a second head. “War and Peace? Really?”

Jack raised an eyebrow, totally unbothered. “What? I’ve got layers, Anja. I like to read, too. Not geography books, as you already know, but serious stuff. Might surprise you.”

Anja let out a laugh, shaking her head. “You? The manwhore of the hockey world? Reading Tolstoy? I thought you were too busy with girls and hockey to have time for this kind of thing.”

Jack smirked, holding up the book like it was a trophy. “Ha ha, really funny.” He shot her a look, clearly not offended. “I’ll have you know, girls and hockey are not the only things in my brain.”

Anja scoffed, reaching out to snatch the book from his hands. She flipped it open, skimming a few pages before looking back up at him, her expression caught somewhere between amusement and disbelief.

“You actually read this?” she asked, holding up War and Peace like it was a foreign artifact. “Not just for, like, show?”

Jack placed a hand over his heart, feigning offense. “Wow. Zero faith in me.”

She narrowed her eyes at him, flipping through the pages. “Alright, prove it. Who’s your favorite character?”

Without missing a beat, Jack smirked. “Andrei Bolkonsky.”

Anja froze for a second, looking up from the pages, clearly thrown. “Wait, really? You’re an Andrei guy?”

Jack nodded, his expression dead serious. “What? You thought I’d say Pierre?”

“YES,” she said immediately. “Pierre’s the obvious choice. He’s way more... interesting.”

“Interesting? Pierre’s a hot mess for like, 90% of the book. The guy spends half his time getting lost, getting into trouble, and overthinking everything.”

Anja shot him a teasing glance. “Exactly. That’s what makes him interesting! He’s awkward, searching for meaning... vulnerable.”

Jack laughed, leaning closer to her. “Vulnerable? Or just indecisive? The guy can’t make a choice without spiraling.”

“That’s the whole point. He’s human. Complex.” She poked Jack’s chest with a finger, her eyes gleaming with passion as she leaned in just slightly, clearly enjoying the back-and-forth.

Jack moved closer to her, crossing his arms. “I’m sorry, but Pierre’s a disaster. Andrei knows who he is. He’s a leader, a soldier, a guy who gets things done. That’s why I like him.”

“Oh, please,” Anja scoffed, rolling her eyes. “Andrei’s the epitome of a brooding, pretentious sad boy. He spends the entire book sulking, acting like everyone else is beneath him.” She paused, a sly grin spreading across her face as if she’d just had a sudden realization. “Hmm, sounds kind of familiar, actually.”

Jack raised an eyebrow, a wide smile creeping onto his lips. “Are you calling me brooding and pretentious?”

Anja held his gaze for a beat, then shook her head. “Not exactly. But yeah, that sounds like you—at least the pretentious part. You’re not really the brooding type. You’re way too cocky for that. But I can definitely see some Andrei in you.”

Jack chuckled, a small spark flickering in his chest. He couldn’t help but like a woman who had both a strong opinion and a sharp mind. “I’m confident, not pretentious. There’s a difference. Andrei’s got his life together—he knows what he wants, he has standards, and he doesn’t just drift through life hoping things will work out. You can’t say the same about Pierre. That guy spends half the book lost in his own head, making bad decisions, and hoping the universe sorts it out for him. Andrei? He takes charge. If that’s who you’re comparing me to, I’ll take it.”

Anja shook her head, amused. “Not just that. Andrei’s just a ticking time bomb. All that ‘duty’ and ‘honor’... It’s like a mask he hides behind to avoid facing his own mess. You probably like him because, let’s face it, he’s a little bit like you in that sense as well.”

“Me? A mess? I’m hurt.” Jack let out a dramatic gasp.

Anja shrugged, a wicked grin playing on her lips. “Don’t act like it’s not true. You’re just like him. A little too obsessed with being ‘the guy who’s got it all together.’”

Jack smirked, shifting his weight casually as he placed Moby Dick back on the shelf next to them. “Andrei’s confident. I’m confident. So, I’ll take that as a compliment.”

Anja raised her eyebrows. “Sure. Keep telling yourself that. But at least Pierre learns. He grows. Andrei? He just spends the whole book whining until—well, spoiler alert, he dies.”

Jack threw his hands up in mock disbelief, eyes wide. “Ouch. Ruthless. The guy goes through war, heartbreak, and personal tragedy, and you just—” He waved his hand dramatically. “Done. No sympathy?”

Anja grinned, flipping the book shut with a decisive motion. “Not my fault Tolstoy made him insufferable. I stand by Pierre.”

Jack looked at her, laughing in disbelief. “I can’t believe you read War and Peace and took Pierre’s side.”

Anja shot him a playful side-eye. “Oh yeah? You read it and picked Andrei. We’re clearly both making questionable decisions here.”

“I guess we can’t buddy-read Tolstoy together, huh?” Jack chuckled, shaking his head.

Anja crossed her arms, raising an eyebrow. “Good. I’d hate to have to explain everything to you.”

“Unbelievable.” Jack let out an exaggerated sigh, while he tucked War and Peace under his arm again, giving her a teasing look. “Alright, book snob. Since you clearly think you know everything, what’s next? Are you going to try to convince me that Anna Karenina’s actions were justified?”

Anja gasped, eyes widening. “Jack. Don’t even start.”

Shaking her head, Anja grabbed a couple of books from the shelf, and Jack did the same. With their newfound selections in hand, they made their way back to their cozy beanbags. They settled in, the quiet rustle of pages filling the space between them.

For a while, neither of them spoke. Jack flipped through War and Peace, skimming familiar passages, while Anja lost herself in a biography of one of her favorite artists. The playful banter from earlier still lingered in her mind, but as she snuck a glance at Jack, something about the way he was fully immersed in his book made her pause.

She watched him for a moment, her smile softening. There was something oddly sincere about him like this—quiet, focused, different from the cocky, fast-talking guy she was so used to.

“Huh,” she murmured, more to herself than anything. “Guess I underestimated you, Jack.”

Jack didn’t look up immediately, but a slow, lazy smirk spread across his face. “It happens,” he said, finally meeting her gaze. “Don’t worry, I’m used to it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but there was no real bite to it. She turned her attention back to her book, trying to focus. But every now and then, she found herself glancing up—watching as Jack absentmindedly ran a thumb over the edge of the pages, completely absorbed in his book.

Anja took a deep breath, smiling to herself as she sank deeper into the beanbag. Maybe Jack Hughes wasn’t just a pretty face after all. And maybe, just maybe, this friend date wasn’t so bad after all.

—

Weeks passed, and what started as a single friend date grew into something neither of them had quite expected. Something real and deeper. Jack started showing up at the coffee shop every day after practice, sometimes before games, sometimes after. He’d slip in quietly, pulling his hood up, and find a corner table by the window. And there he’d stay, right where Anja could see him. It was like a routine now, something familiar and comforting.

He’d sit there, watching her work, the steady hum of the café filling the space between them as he lazily flipped through a book. On quieter days, when Anja wasn’t rushing from table to table, Jack would start talking—about hockey, the latest game, or whatever TV show had caught his attention. Their conversations stretched beyond the usual small talk. They argued about politics, books, their childhood, even their biggest fears. Jack was always challenging the way she thought about things, pushing her to question what she believed. And though it sometimes annoyed her, Anja couldn’t deny that she actually enjoyed it.

She began to appreciate the complexity in him, the layers behind the cocky smile and careless attitude. It wasn’t just the light teasing that made her laugh. It was the way he could discuss some silly tv show one minute and then dive into a heated debate about the latest political news the next. And sometimes, when their conversations would die down, Jack would pull out a book, burying himself in it while Anja went about her work. They’d fall into a comfortable silence, the kind only true friends could share.

More and more, Anja found herself looking forward to seeing Jack walk in. There was something about him that made everything feel a little more relaxed.

It wasn’t long before their friendship spilled over into texts. Casual check-ins after games, long messages about something that had made them laugh, or a random book recommendation. Anja, to her own surprise, found herself enjoying it. She’d thought it would be strange, having Jack’s name constantly flashing on her phone, but it wasn’t. It was… nice. She wasn’t sure when the shift happened, but somewhere between the books they’d shared, the heated debates, and the quiet moments spent together, Jack had become a friend in a way she hadn’t expected.

And now, as she glanced over at him, sitting in his usual spot, flipping through pages of Inferno by Dante, she couldn’t help but smile.

Then, as she turned to take an order at the counter, she heard laughter from across the café. She didn’t even need to look to know what was happening. Jack, as usual, had charmed a group of older ladies sitting near the pastry case.

“Oh, come on, Marge,” he said, grinning at one of them as he leaned casually on the counter. “You can’t tell me you weren’t a heartbreaker back in the day. I bet you had all the boys lined up.”

Marge, a widow in her seventies who came in every morning with her two best friends, waved him off with a playful scoff. “Oh, hush, you flirt. You’re just trying to sweet-talk me into buying you a cookie.”

Jack gasped dramatically, but his confident smile was still on his face. “Marge, I would never!”

Anja, overhearing the entire exchange as she filled a coffee cup, tried—and failed—to stifle a laugh. She bit her lip, shaking her head as Jack continued his antics, effortlessly charming the older women like he was born to do it.

But then, when his gaze flickered back to Anja, something changed. The easy, flirtatious grin softened. His shoulders relaxed. He still had that effortless confidence, that natural charm, but when it was just the two of them, it was different. He didn’t need to perform. He let Anja see something deeper—something quieter, more thoughtful.

She walked past his table, setting down a fresh cup of coffee without him even asking. “You’re ridiculous, you know that?” she murmured, shaking her head.

Jack just smirked up at her, his voice dropping into something softer, something just for her. “Yeah, but you like it.”

Anja rolled her eyes, but she didn’t argue. Because maybe, just maybe, he was right.

–

Jack hated these nights.

Another brutal loss. Another night of feeling like the weight of the entire team was sitting on his chest. With Nico out, the pressure had been on him to step up, to push the team to a win. And he tried. He fucking tried. But it wasn’t happening.

And to make matters worse, the apartment wasn’t exactly peaceful.

A muffled whimper filtered through the wall. Then another. Then—Jesus Christ.

Jack clenched his jaw and rolled onto his stomach, shoving his pillow over his head as if that would help. Spoiler: it didn’t.

Luke and Thea were home. And happy. And apparently, they had absolutely no concept of thin walls.

And maybe Jack was just being petty, but it was hard not to feel... left out. Especially when he remembered how he’d been on with Anja these past few weeks.

Jack had never experienced a true friendship with a woman, but Anja was different. From the start, she made it clear that she only saw him as a friend—and that was fine with him. At first, he struggled to accept it, but over time, things shifted. They grew closer, spending hours together, laughing, talking, and sharing moments. Jack found himself explaining the New Jersey Devils to her—a tough task, especially since she was a Bruins fan and knew next to nothing about his team. Patience wasn’t his strong suit, and the fact that she didn’t seem to care made it even harder to keep his cool. Still, he couldn’t help but respect that she wasn’t one of those girls who swooned over him. It was... refreshing.

But still... there were nights, like tonight, when it hit him.

He couldn’t deny it—he was drawn to her. He loved their friendship, no question, but deep down, there was always that something more. That unspoken tension, simmering just beneath the surface, waiting to be acknowledged. He wasn’t ready to face it. Jack didn’t do love. It was just sexual tension, he told himself. It couldn’t be anything more. After all, Anja was a beautiful, young woman, and he was a ridiculously good-looking athlete. Of course, they had chemistry. But that’s all it was.

And then there were nights like this, where his mind wandered off course, and instead of texting her—because that would be weird—he went back to his old habits. Hook-ups. Quick distractions. Just something to get his mind off things.

So, he picked up his phone and fired off a few texts. It was easier this way, he told himself.

It wasn’t like he wanted anything serious with anyone else. He wasn’t looking for that. But sometimes, he just needed a reminder that he could still get attention from people. He still had that pull. Even if Anja didn’t feel the same way.

He knew what he was doing wasn’t exactly healthy. But it was easier than dealing with the things that really mattered.

Five weeks since he’d met her. Four weeks since she had completely turned his world upside down. But that wasn’t her fault. He was the one who couldn’t seem to figure things out.

His phone buzzed almost immediately. But it wasn’t the message he was expecting.

A: Hey, Prince Charming.

Jack smirked, running a hand through his hair as he read the text. The nickname had started after their first friend date, when she’d looked at him with that amused glint in her eye and said he reminded her of a fairytale prince—all looks, maybe not completely dumb, but let’s be honest, not that smart either. He should’ve been offended, but for some reason, he fucking loved it when she called him that.

Another buzz.

A: So, that was a really shitty game. You sucked today.

Jack barked out a laugh. Jesus. He loved that this woman didn’t hold back. Everyone else always tried to phrase it in a way that wouldn't bruise his ego. Not Anja. She came at him full force.

J: Wow. Don’t hold back or anything.

A: I don’t do sugarcoating. You were bad. Like, painfully bad.

J: Yeah, yeah. I know. Thanks for the reminder.

A: Anytime, Hughes.

Jack shook his head, still smiling as he stared at the screen. His other texts—the ones he’d sent out looking for a distraction—were sitting there, unread. He didn’t even feel like checking them anymore. Instead, he rolled onto his side, typing out another response.

J: So what, you just text me to roast me, or are you actually gonna make me feel better?

A: Oh, I was getting there. You’re a disaster, but at least you’re a pretty disaster.

J: Pretty disaster, huh? Wow, really boosting my confidence here.

Jack rolled his eyes, but a small smile spread across his face.

A: You’re welcome. It’s the least I can do. You looked so sad out there today, I felt bad for you.

J: I don’t need pity. I need sleep.

He ran a hand through his hair, irritation creeping back in. The game had been brutal, and now he was staring at the ceiling again, the exhaustion weighing on him. Tomorrow’s practice would be hell if he didn’t get some sleep. His body was already aching from the game, and now this.

A: Oh, so now you want sympathy? Make up your mind, Hughes.

J: I’m just saying, I’m exhausted. And I’ve got thin walls here—Luke and Thea are having the time of their life, and I can’t escape it. I’ve tried everything. Nothing works.

A: Ah, poor thing. Just not jealous?

J: Trust me, the last thing I want to do right now is stick my dick in anybody. I don’t even know how Lukey does it. Guess being young helps… Maybe Thea was right about that stamina thing...

A: Jesus Jack! You really don’t have a filter. TMI! But…Well… I mean, if you need a place to crash, my couch is always available.

J: Wait, seriously?

Jack paused, blinking at his phone. He wasn’t sure if she was being sarcastic or serious. But there was a part of him that was already considering it. He couldn’t remember the last time he’d had a night to himself that didn’t end with him staring at the ceiling.

A: Yeah, I’m serious. We’re friends. Even if this is painful for me to admit. And I live basically 10 minutes from you. Just come over.

J: …Wait, you actually want me to crash at your place?

A: Just don’t make me regret this, Prince Charming!

Jack chuckled. This… this was definitely unexpected.

J: Alright, fine. I’ll take you up on the offer. Thanks, Anja!

—

Jack stepped into Anja’s apartment, every muscle in his body groaning in protest.

His legs ached from the game, his mind was a chaotic mess, but right now, all he could think about was sleep. Real sleep. Not the restless, half-conscious tossing and turning that had been his last few nights. He needed to crash—hard.

And then he saw her.

Anja stood in the soft glow of the apartment, wearing loose, dark pajamas, her hair twisted up in a messy bun. No makeup, no effort—just her. Effortlessly beautiful, untouched by the outside world.

Jack’s brain stalled for a second.

How the hell was she this attractive without even trying?

He shook the thought away. It was exhaustion, right? Had to be. She was just… Anja. He was too damn tired to think straight.

So, Jack did what any man on the brink of collapse would do—he went straight for the bed, flopping face-first onto the mattress without asking.

Behind him, Anja leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed, a smirk playing on her lips. “You know the rules. Couch.”

Jack groaned into the pillow. “Anja. Please. My body is broken. My soul is hanging by a thread. And that couch? That couch is where souls go to die.”

Anja snorted. “You’ll survive.”

Jack rolled onto his side, his eyes heavy with tiredness, but he still managed to give her a slow, teasing glance. "You’re seriously gonna make me crash out there when there’s a whole king-sized bed right here?" He patted the mattress like it was the most inviting thing in the world. "Come on, that’s practically a crime against humanity."

Anja lifted an unimpressed eyebrow. “You are humanity’s crime.”

Jack grinned. “Thank you.”

She sighed, rubbing her temple like she was already regretting every life decision that had led to this moment.

Jack pushed himself up onto his elbows. “Alright. Let’s make a deal. I’ll do anything. Literally anything. Name it.”

Anja smirked. “Anything?”

Jack nodded solemnly.

“I want—” she paused for dramatic effect “—a New York Rangers jersey.”

Jack’s face twisted in disbelief. “Okay, that’s just plain evil, darling.”

Anja smirked, knowing full well how much Jack loathed the Rangers. Her hockey knowledge was avarage, but she was well aware of the hostility between Jack’s team and their biggest rival.

Jack exhaled in frustration, rubbing a hand over his face. “Alright, new offer: I’ll make you breakfast.”

Anja let out a short laugh. “You can’t cook, Jacky. That’s basically a threat, not an offer.”

“Incorrect,” Jack said, giving her a playful look as he pointed at her.“I can cook. I just choose not to.”

Anja stared at him, unamused.

“Okay, fine,” Jack groaned, his hands raised in mock surrender. “I can make breakfast. Still counts.”

“That’s just eggs. And even those are awful,” Anja remarked dryly.

Jack shrugged his shoulders. “Hey, still technically breakfast.”

“Anja,” he said, voice grave. “I am a man at his lowest. My body is failing me, my will to live is fading, and you—” he pointed dramatically at her “—have the power to save me.”

Anja blinked at him, unimpressed. “You are so dramatic.”

Jack pressed a hand to his chest. “I prefer passionate.”

She rolled her eyes again, exhaling like this whole act was physically draining her, and for a second, Jack thought she was going to send him to the couch anyway. But then she let out a long, resigned sigh, shaking her head like she already regretted it.

“One night,” she said, pointing at him sharply. “And no funny business.”

Jack shot up like he’d just been given a second lease on life, already pulling off his hoodie as he practically dove under the covers. “You won’t even know I’m here.”

Anja muttered something under her breath about regretting this already, flicking off the light as she climbed into bed beside him.

Jack exhaled as his body sank into the mattress, tension bleeding from his muscles. But just as his brain started to shut down, he caught it—her scent.

That unmistakable mix of orange and peppermint.

It was everywhere. In the sheets, in the pillows, in the air itself, wrapping around him and settling into his skin like a slow, creeping warmth he hadn’t been expecting.

His body relaxed instantly, but his mind? His mind did the opposite.

He wasn’t sure why this felt different. Why she felt different. Why, after all the nights spent in beds that weren’t his, this—lying next to Anja, stealing her blankets, breathing in the scent of orange and peppermint—was the only thing that had ever felt right.

He hated how much he liked it.

Jack turned his head toward her, voice low, teasing. “You know, if you let me stay in this bed again, I’ll compose an original poem just for you.”

Anja groaned. “Shut up, Hughes!”

Jack grinned. “A sonnet, actually. Or maybe a haiku—short and sweet. You know, something like—” He cleared his throat, pretending to get serious before continuing, “Shall I compare thee to—”

Anja rolled over, cutting him off by slapping a hand over his mouth.

“Enough,” she murmured, her voice light but warm, with a hint of something almost... hesitant.

Jack blinked up at her, his lips still pressed against her palm. The room felt different all of a sudden, as if the air had thickened. Maybe it was exhaustion, or maybe something else entirely, but the shift between them was unmistakable.

Neither of them moved for a moment.

Jack could feel the heat of her skin against his face, and saw how her breathing slowed just a fraction, like she had only just realized how close they were. He should say something, crack a joke, break the silence. But for once, he didn’t.

And then—because he was Jack—he wiggled his eyebrows.

Anja blinked at him, like she was snapping out of a daze, and pulled her hand away, rolling onto her side. “You’re such a pain.”

Jack chuckled, stealing half the blanket. “And yet, here I am, still in this bed.”

Anja rolled her eyes, pulling her blanket back. “You’re lucky I’m not making you sleep on the couch. And honestly, how do you know what a haiku is? You didn’t even know that Germany and Switzerland were two different countries.”

Jack groaned, but the smile never left his face. He squeezed his eyes shut, shaking his head slightly. “I’m misunderstood,” he muttered, like he was truly burdened by it.

Anja laughed softly, the sound light and warm in the dim room. “Yeah, the real mystery, Jack Hughes. You’re dumb enough to confuse countries, but you’re cultured enough to drop haiku on me.”

“Hey,” Jack said, lifting his head and squinting at her with a playful grin, “I’m a complex man. Who loves literature.”

She rolled her eyes once more, but a smile played at the corners of her lips. “And that’s exactly what makes you so damn annoying.”

Jack smirked, sinking back into the pillows. “Glad to see you recognize my complexity.”

Anja sighed, still facing away, though Jack could feel the faint shake of her shoulders as she tried to stifle a laugh. “You really think you’ve won, don’t you?”

Jack relaxed into the bed, the warmth of her body and the soft sound of her laughter soothing him. “Oh, I know I have.”

Anja scoffed, but Jack could hear the smile in her voice. “Enjoy it while it lasts.”

Jack smirked, his eyes fluttering closed. “Oh, I will.”

—

Jack sat at the kitchen table, staring down at his coffee like it owed him money. His head was pounding, and the goddamn world seemed way too fucking chipper for his liking. His body was sore as hell from practice, but it was nothing compared to the frustration buzzing through his brain.

“You’re a ray of sunshine today, Jacky,” Thea chirped as she walked in, pressing a kiss to Luke’s head. Of course, Luke had to shoot her a goofy grin, like he was a damn golden retriever. Ugh. Disgusting.

“Shut up, pedo,” Jack mumbled, trying to sip his coffee without gagging. He didn’t care if his tone was off. He wasn’t here for their bullshit today.

Luke rolled his eyes, totally unfazed. “What the hell happened to you, man? You were all full of energy this morning—like, bouncing off the walls—and now you're just... this.” He gestured at Jack, who was hunched over the table like he was already dead inside.

Jack snorted, clearly not in the mood for a pep talk. “Maybe I’m just tired of people asking me why I’m an asshole. Get a new hobby.”

Yeah, Luke was right. He knew that. But honestly? He had way bigger problems right now. Like, Anja.

This morning had started off like some cheesy rom-com, and Jack was seriously starting to panic about it. He woke up, and there she was—her small, warm body tangled up in his, all soft and perfect. For a split second, he actually thought about kissing her—maybe snuggling, maybe even making her coffee. What the hell? When had he become the type of guy who fantasized about making coffee for someone? What was next, brunch? Fucking brunch?!

But, of course, it wasn’t until he was changing out of his hockey gear, post-practice, that he realized what a weird thought that was. He wasn’t exactly known for catching on to things quickly. He knew his flaws. But here he was, practically having a meltdown over the idea of wanting to snuggle.

And the worst part? The morning had been way too perfect for his comfort. Like, Anja didn’t even make the cuddling weird. Which, on any other day, would be a blessing. But now? He was thinking about her—and not in a “she’s a cool, funny friend” way. No, this was different. This was “I just woke up in her bed and I’m wondering if we should get matching coffee mugs” levels of insane.

They’d woken up, did the lazy morning cuddle thing—because apparently, Jack had no self-control—then they’d grabbed coffee. He’d cracked a few jokes about the news, she’d laughed like it was just another morning. And, damn it, it felt so normal. Too normal.

And then came the worst part: he kissed her on the cheek when he left. Like, a peck. And she blushed. She fucking blushed and wished him a good day like she was some picture-perfect, Hallmark-movie wife.

Did he just call her a wife? Oh, hell no. That couldn’t be a thing. He wasn’t ready for that.

He gulped down more coffee like it was going to fix this internal meltdown. The burn hit his chest, but the panic was still there. He had to shake it off. This was stupid. Anja was just a friend—no, not just a friend, she was a friend who he happened to share a bed with... and now apparently, his feelings? What the hell was happening to him?

Jack swore under his breath, rubbing his forehead. This wasn’t him. He was the guy who had no problems keeping things casual, no strings, no feelings. But now? Now he was screwing up his own rulebook. Anja is a friend…just a friend!

Jack sighed dramatically, letting his frustration hang in the air like a thick cloud. “Look, I don’t know what the hell is going on, alright? But I feel like a goddamn idiot. I’m not supposed to be thinking about this. I should be pissed about my game, but instead..." He rubbed his forehead, hoping it would somehow stop the mental chaos.

Luke, ever the observant little shit, raised an eyebrow. “So this is about her? Anja, right?”

Jack shot him a look that could’ve melted steel. “Well, no, I’m talking about the weather, Luke. Of course it’s about Anja. Who else would it be?” He paused, then—BAM—his brain hit him with a sudden revelation. Wait a second—this was actually Luke’s fault. “Actually, this is your fault, you know. If you and Thea weren’t busy mating like a pair of rabbits, I wouldn’t have had to leave the house yesterday!”

Luke’s smirk was already five miles wide. “Man, just admit it. You’re into her. You’re all mopey and pissy because you’ve got no idea what to do with it.”

Jack glared at him like he just insulted his entire existence. “Fuck off. I don’t do feelings. And I sure as hell don’t do snuggling.”

He immediately slapped his hand over his mouth, realizing he'd maybe over-shared just a bit.

Thea grabbed an apple from the fridge and plopped herself down on Luke’s lap “Snuggling? Snuggling? Oh, Jack, you are so gone.” She bit into the apple dramatically, her eyes dancing with mischief.

“You sure about that ‘no snuggle’ rule?”Luke teased, clearly enjoying the moment, as he lightly traced circles on Thea's exposed hip.

“Oh, Luke, do you remember what Jack said to Quinn?” Thea tilted her head, changing her voice to mock Jack. “‘Who said anything about it ‘meaning’ anything? I’m just here for the ride, bro.’” She smirked. “I can’t believe I’m hearing this from you.”

Jack groaned. “Oh, God, please, feel free to enjoy my suffering. It’s what you’re best at.”

Thea clutched her chest like she was watching the best drama unfold right in front of her. “Oh, I’m living for this. You know, those moments that are so painfully awkward and secondhand embarrassing that they keep you entertained for weeks? Jack Hughes falling in love—now that’s the kind of content I’ll be replaying in my head forever.”

Jack shot her a glare. He knew exactly what she was referencing. That was his line—the same one he threw at Thea when he caught her sneaking out of Luke’s room. Yeah, maybe he’d been a little too smug about it at the time. And sure, he knew she’d get her revenge eventually.

But honestly? Making his brother and his date uncomfortable had been way too much fun.

Jack would love to say he’d learned his lesson.

But he was way too much of an asshole for that.

“Yeah, yeah, enjoy every moment of this,” Jack grumbled, grabbing the last of his coffee and standing up. “Because this will be short. I’m just gonna figure my shit out. No more cuddling, no more kissing her on the cheek like I’m some goddamn romantic. I’m not built for this.” He slammed his mug down with a little more force than necessary. “I’ll find some random girl tonight, bang her, and get over this. Problem solved.”

Luke just shook his head, his curly hair bouncing with the motion, falling in soft waves across his forehead. “You know you’re not fooling anyone, right?”

Jack shot him an icy glare. “Shut up, Mr. Pedo Lover.” He practically growled as he stomped over to the sink, banging the mug down.

Thea and Luke exchanged a look, their smiles knowing. They didn’t even need to say anything, and it pissed Jack off even more. He muttered under his breath as he turned to leave the kitchen, needing to get away before he said something even dumber. But in the back of his mind, his thoughts kept running. Fuck. What the hell was he even doing?

—

The music pounded through the bar, a steady, brain-numbing beat. Jack Hughes barely noticed, his attention fixed on his beer as he took a slow sip.

He was in trouble.

Not because of the game. Not because of a fight. But because, for the first time in his life, he couldn’t find a single fucking woman he wanted to take home.

And that was a problem.

A huge problem.

This Sunday night was supposed to be easy. A big win finally, a few drinks, a quick fuck. No strings, no thoughts, no mess. That was the routine. That was him. And yet, here he was, staring into his beer like it held the answers to his fucked-up brain.

It was Nico’s slap on his back that snapped him out of it.

“Come on, man! What the hell’s up with you? You’ve turned down, what? Ten girls already?”

“Four,” Jack muttered.

Nico laughed, shaking his head. “That’s not like you, Jacky boy. You sick or something?”

Jack grunted, smacking Nico’s hand away when he pressed it to his forehead. He took another long swig of beer, hoping the alcohol would do something—blur the edges, dull the noise, drown out her.

Because that was the real problem, wasn’t it?

Anja.

The fucking Anja Syndrome.

Every girl, every goddamn girl, he measured against her. And every single one of them came up short.

Too blonde. Too tall. Too high-pitched. Too weird with her fucking drink.

It was bullshit.

Jack never gave a shit before. He didn’t care if they were tall or short, blonde or brunette. If they had a body and were willing, that was enough. And yeah, he knew that made him sound like a dick, but he was 23, a pro athlete, and he’d be an idiot not to enjoy the perks.

So why the fuck was he sitting here, empty-handed, second-guessing his entire goddamn existence?

“Come on, Jack,” Bas nudged him, nodding toward the bar. “That little blonde has been eye-fucking you all night. Give her some mercy.”

Jack glanced over.

Petite. A little too skinny, but she had pretty greenish-brown eyes and a face guys would probably call “cute.” She was fine.

She should be perfect.

But she wasn’t her.

Oh, fuck off.

No more of this shit.

This girl was hot, and she was ready to go. She was exactly what he needed to snap himself out of this bullshit.

“Perfect,” Jack muttered. Ignoring his teammates’ laughter, he downed the rest of his beer and pushed himself to his feet.

With long, confident strides, he crossed the bar, slipping back into the guy he used to be—the one who didn’t overthink, didn’t feel. He flashed his best smirk, the one that melted panties before he even said a word.

“Hey, gorgeous,” he drawled, voice dropping into that low, rough tone that always did the trick.

The girl beamed. “Hey! Took you long enough.” She giggled, the sound high and grating.

Jack forced a smirk. “You know how it is—can’t ditch the team right away.”

He didn’t care about the small talk.

Didn’t want it.

He just needed this to work.

“So… wanna head to the back with me?” He made sure his tone left no room for misinterpretation.

The girl’s eyes sparkled. “Of course.”

That was all he needed.

He took her wrist, weaving through the crowd until they reached the back exit. He’d spotted the terrace earlier—quiet, dim, completely empty. Perfect for what he needed.

And the second the terrace door swung shut behind them, Jack wasted no time.

He grabbed the girl by the waist, pulling her flush against him, his mouth crashing onto hers with a force that had always been enough. His hands slid down her back, gripping, squeezing, searching for that familiar spark—that fire that always ignited the second he got a girl alone.

But nothing came.

Not even a flicker.

The girl moaned into his mouth, her fingers tangling in his hair, pressing herself against him like she wanted to be devoured. It should have been hot. It should have sent a jolt straight to his dick, setting off that automatic chain reaction his body had perfected over the years.

But there was nothing.

Nothing except a creeping, cold frustration curling in his gut.

No. No, this was just in his head. He needed to push through it. He could push through it.

Jack deepened the kiss, tilting her head back as his hands roamed lower, his body pressing her into the brick wall behind them. He rolled his hips forward, desperate for his body to wake the fuck up, desperate for the heat to kick in, for the hunger to return.

Still nothing.

His pulse pounded—not with arousal, but with something dangerously close to panic.

What the fuck was happening to him?

The girl let out a high-pitched giggle, threading her fingers down his chest, her nails scraping against his shirt as she reached for his belt.

"Let me take care of you," she whispered, voice dripping with suggestion.

Jack flinched.

His stomach turned.

It wasn’t her voice.

It wasn’t her hands.

He sucked in a sharp breath, squeezing his eyes shut, willing himself to snap out of it. He could fix this. He just needed to focus.

He dropped his head to the girl's neck, trailing open-mouthed kisses down her throat, hands gripping her hips, fingers digging in. He sucked at her pulse point, dragging his teeth over her skin in the way that usually made a girl melt against him.

She gasped, arching into him, nails raking down his back.

Jack felt nothing.

His body was like a fucking corpse.

Dead.

Unresponsive.

Refusing to play along.

And then, before he could stop it, before he could shove it back down where it belonged—her face flashed in his mind.

Anja.

That smug little smirk she got when she knew she was right. The way she tilted her head when she was listening to him talk, like he was the most interesting person in the world. The fire in her eyes when she called him on his bullshit.

The way her body had felt against his that one night when they slept in the same bed.

The way he’d spent every second since aching to feel it again..

Jack froze.

His entire body locked up, his breathing sharp and erratic.

The girl noticed immediately.

"You okay?" she murmured, pressing a kiss to his jaw, hands still working at his belt. "Just relax, baby."

Jack jerked back like he’d been burned.

Baby.

She wasn’t her.

She would never be her.

And for the first time in his life, that mattered.

"Fuck," Jack breathed, running a shaky hand through his hair.

The girl frowned. "What?"

He swallowed hard, his throat dry as sandpaper. "I— I can't. I— This isn’t gonna happen."

Her expression flickered with confusion, then shifted into irritation. "Oh, come on. You just need a little—"

She reached for him again, her hand slipping down toward his belt, but Jack caught her wrist before she could get any further.

"No." His voice was firm. Sharper than he intended.

She yanked her hand back like he’d slapped her, eyes narrowing. "Seriously?" She let out a harsh laugh, crossing her arms. "What, you bring me out here just to waste my fucking time?"

Jack exhaled heavily, raking both hands through his hair. His chest felt too tight, like his ribs were closing in on his lungs.

"You’re not her," he muttered, his voice raw, barely above a whisper. He shook his head, running a shaky hand through his hair.

"Fuck. You are not her."

And that was the problem.

Her gaze darkened with annoyance. "Oh, so it's me that’s the problem?" She scoffed. "Classic. Maybe next time don’t bite off more than you can chew, Hughes."

And with that, she spun on her heel, shoving open the terrace door and storming back into the bar.

Jack didn’t move.

Couldn’t.

His back hit the brick wall as he slid down, knees bent, head tipped back against the cold surface. His breaths were uneven, his entire body wound too tight, but still—nothing.

He squeezed his eyes shut, his fists clenching uselessly in his lap.

His body had never betrayed him before.

Never failed him.

And now?

Now, it was screaming the truth at him.

The truth he’d been trying to ignore for weeks.

He didn’t just want Anja.

It was worse than that.

She was the only one who fucking existed.

And he was so. Completely. Fucked.

—

“Shit,” he muttered to himself, still trying to make sense of what had just happened. The girl in the back. His body refusing to cooperate. The cold panic that had washed over him like a wave when he realized it wasn’t just that he didn’t want her—he didn’t want anyone. Not unless it was her.

Anja.

That thought hit him again. Like a sucker punch straight to the gut.

He hadn’t realized how deep this shit went until now. He’d spent weeks trying to deny it, trying to make himself believe that it was just a phase. That he could get over it. But he couldn’t. He couldn’t because Anja wasn’t just someone he was into. She was the one. She was it.

His phone buzzed in his pocket, but he ignored it. His mind was too loud. He didn’t want to talk to anyone else. Not right now. Not when his entire body was screaming one thing.

Her.

He reached the street and stood there for a second, trying to get his bearings. The world around him felt off-kilter. Everything looked distant, like he wasn’t actually here, like he was floating in some fucked-up dream.

“Fuck it,” he muttered under his breath, pulling his phone out. He tapped through his contacts and hit the taxi app without a second thought. He needed to get to her. Now.

His finger hovered over the ‘Confirm’ button before he pressed it without hesitation. He didn’t even care if he was drunk—he couldn’t stay here, couldn’t keep sitting with the fucking mess in his head.

He could already feel the buzz from the alcohol, the remnants of the beers he’d downed earlier, swirling in his blood. But it didn’t matter. Nothing else mattered except getting to her.

The ride felt endless. The city lights blurred outside the cab window as he stared at his phone, willing it to stop feeling like it was vibrating in his hand. His mind kept replaying the images of Anja—the way she looked at him when she thought he wasn’t paying attention, the sound of her voice when she laughed at his dumb jokes. God, even the way she bit her lip when she was concentrating made him want to crawl out of his skin.

By the time the taxi pulled up to her building, Jack didn’t know if he was angry, frustrated, or just scared shitless. Probably all of the above.

He handed the driver a few bills without even looking at the change, already pulling the door open and stepping out before the car had even come to a full stop. He jogged up the steps of her building, his hands clammy, stomach twisted in knots.

When he reached her door, he didn’t ring the doorbell. He didn’t wait. He just raised his hand and banged on the wood, the sound echoing in the stillness of the hallway. He felt like he might pass out from the tension in his body, the anticipation clenching his chest tighter with every passing second.

It felt like forever before he heard the sound of footsteps. And then the door creaked open.

After a few seconds, he heard the shuffle of footsteps, and then the door cracked open to reveal a very unimpressed, very sleepy-looking Anja. Fuck she was beautiful.

She blinked at him. “Jack?” Her voice was groggy, her hair a mess. “It’s one in the morning.”

“Yeah, I know,” he said quickly. “I—I needed to talk to you.”

She sighed, rubbing her eyes. “Are you dying?”

“No.”

“Is someone else dying?”

“No.”

She squinted at him. “Are you drunk?”

Jack hesitated. “...A little.”

Anja let out a dramatic sigh and leaned against the doorframe. “Alright, go on then. What’s so important that you had to wake me up in the middle of the night?”

Jack opened his mouth.

Then closed it.

Then ran a hand through his hair because shit, this was harder than he thought.

“Okay, so—” He exhaled sharply. “Something happened tonight, and I think I’m broken.”

Anja raised an eyebrow. “Broken?”

“Like, physically broken.” He gestured vaguely to himself. “Like… I had a girl—a very hot girl, by the way—practically throwing herself at me, and nothing. Not a damn thing.” He pointed at his own chest. “My body just—betrayed me.”

Anja stared at him for a second. Then, to his absolute horror—she burst out laughing.

Like, full-on, body-shaking laughter.

Jack scowled. “Okay, rude.”

“Oh my god.” She clutched the doorframe for support, laughing so hard she nearly lost her balance. “Jack, I swear, if you woke me up just to tell me you couldn’t get it up, I’m slamming this door in your face.”

“It’s not about that!” Jack groaned, dragging a hand down his face. “Well, it is, but it’s also not.” He sighed, suddenly feeling exhausted. “Look, I was with this girl, right? And she was perfect—like, objectively, guys would kill to be with her. And I tried, I really tried—”

Anja snorted. “Poor girl.”

“—but the whole time, all I could think about was you.”

That shut her up.

Anja’s smile froze, her laughter dying in her throat.

Jack swallowed hard. “That’s the problem, Anja. It’s you. You’ve ruined me.” He pointed at her like she was some kind of criminal. “I used to be great at this. No thoughts, just vibes. But now? Now, I go out, I find a hot girl, I do my thing—except I can’t do my thing, because all I can think about is how she doesn’t laugh like you, or talk like you, or smell like you, or—fuck, Anja—hell, even the way she breathed just annoyed the hell out of me.”

Anja blinked. “...The way she breathed?”

Jack threw his hands in the air. “Yeah! Stupid, right?! But it mattered! And you wanna know why? Because she wasn’t you.” He let out a frustrated noise, pacing in a small circle before turning back to her. “I fell, Anja. Hard. And I don’t even know what the fuck to do with it, because I’ve never—” He stopped, exhaling shakily. His voice dropped, raw and unguarded. “I’ve never been in love before.”

She stared at him, eyes wide, lips parted slightly like she wasn’t sure if she should laugh again or take him seriously.

Jack exhaled loudly, raking both hands through his hair. “So, yeah. I’m here. I’m standing on your doorstep like a fucking idiot, telling you that I’m gone for you. And I don’t even know what I expect you to do with that information, but I couldn’t not tell you, because keeping it inside was making me lose my goddamn mind.”

Silence stretched between them.

Jack’s pulse thundered in his ears as he watched Anja process everything he just blurted out like an absolute lunatic.

Then, slowly, she started smiling again.

And then—yep, there it was—she was laughing again.

Jack groaned. “Oh my god, Anja, I’m baring my soul here!”

“I know,” she gasped between laughs. “That’s what makes it so funny!” She wiped her eyes. “Jack Hughes, king of hookups, showing up at my door at one in the morning to tell me he’s emotionally constipated and in love with me? This is gold.”

Jack scowled, crossing his arms. “I take it back. I don’t like you anymore.”

Anja just grinned, stepping forward until she was standing right in front of him. “Too late, idiot.”

Jack’s breath hitched.

She was close now. So close that he could see the tiny freckles on her nose, the way her lips curled just slightly at the corners like she was still fighting laughter.

Then, before he could say anything else, she reached up and flicked his forehead.

“Ow,” Jack muttered, rubbing the spot.

Anja smirked. “That’s what you get for waking me up.”

And then—finally—she tugged him down by the collar of his hoodie and kissed him.

Jack froze for half a second before his brain caught up.

Then?

Then, he kissed her back.

This kiss was different. It wasn’t rushed or uncertain. It wasn’t a fleeting thing. This was everything he’d been missing, everything he didn’t know he wanted. The warmth of her lips, the softness of her touch, and the unmistakable scent of oranges that clung to her skin—it was intoxicating. He couldn’t breathe without it. Without her.

When they finally pulled apart, Anja’s smile was wide, like she’d just won something precious.

Jack blinked at her, heart pounding. “So, just to clarify… you like me too, right? This isn’t just, like, a pity kiss?”

Anja rolled her eyes, but the affection in her gaze was clear. “Yes, dumbass. I like you.”

Jack let out a breath he didn’t realize he’d been holding, his entire body sagging with relief. “Oh, thank God.”

She laughed again, the sound like music to his ears, shaking her head as she pulled him inside.

And just like that, Jack Hughes—the guy who swore he'd never let anyone in—was completely, hopelessly lost.

—

It took Jack three months to finally introduce Anja to Luke and Thea. Not like he didn’t want to shout it out to the world the very next morning after his drunk love confession that Anja had said yes to be his girlfriend. The thing was, saying those words had felt strange, almost surreal for Jack. He didn’t remember the last time he’d had a real relationship—maybe back in high school? But high school felt like a lifetime ago. And back then, relationships were fleeting, brief. Nothing like what he felt for Anja.

But after meeting Anja, everything started to feel different. Jack couldn��t stop thinking about how he felt when he kissed her, when she smiled at him, when they were together, just the two of them. It wasn’t about sex, and that was the biggest shock to him. Every relationship he’d had before had always been tied up in physicality—chasing the high of the next touch, the next kiss, the next night. But with Anja, things were slower. The chemistry was undeniable, but they didn’t rush into anything. They took their time. And Jack was fine with that.

So when Jack finally brought Anja around Luke and Thea, it felt like a milestone. They immediately clicked with her and both of them could see how well Anja handled Jack’s sometimes overly confident, sassy nature. Anja, in her own calm, collected way, knew how to ground Jack. She didn’t put up with his antics, but she didn’t try to change him either. They balanced each other out perfectly. Jack made Anja more confident, and she made him more humble. The shift in him was noticeable—his arrogance softened when she was around.

Things between Jack and Anja were effortless, natural. They’d fallen into a rhythm—hanging out with Luke and Thea, then slipping into quiet nights together. They’d binge-watch their favorite shows, wander around town grabbing food at random spots. But as their connection deepened, so did the tension—the unspoken feelings Jack wasn’t ready to confront.

Anja had made it clear she wasn’t in any rush, but Jack noticed a flicker of impatience in her over time. And he understood why. But for the first time in his life, he didn’t want to rush things. He didn’t want to mess up what they had by diving into something physical, especially after everything he’d been through. Every other relationship had been based on attraction, and they’d all ended in disappointment. This time, he wanted something real. He wanted something that could last. He cared too much about Anja to risk ruining it.

Then came that night. After a double movie date with Luke and Thea, the evening wrapped up with everyone saying their goodbyes. Anja had laughed with Thea all night—joking and teasing like they’d known each other for years. Jack watched them, captivated by how easy and natural it all was. And more than once, he found himself just staring at Anja, wondering how he’d gotten so lucky to have someone like her in his life.

As Luke and Thea headed off to their room, Anja turned to Jack, her smile soft but knowing. She stepped into his space, her body warm against his as she slid under his chin, leaning into his chest. Jack’s breath caught, his heart rate picking up. The scent of her perfume only made everything more intense.

"Hi," she said, her voice low, playful.

"Hi, baby," Jack responded, his smile matching hers, but there was something more beneath the surface. He brushed a strand of her hair from her face, his fingers grazing her skin, sending a shiver down her spine. She was up to something.

Anja’s fingertip traced small, slow circles on his neck—light, teasing touches that were enough to make his body respond before his mind could catch up. "So, I was thinking..." she said, her voice filled with mischief.

"Dangerous thing to do," Jack teased, his voice rougher than he intended, heat already pooling in his chest. He could feel his body weakening.

Anja giggled, hitting him lightly on the chest. "Shut up, you."

Jack grinned, but his thoughts scattered. Her touch was like fire, and it was hard to think straight with her so close.

"Can I stay the night?" she asked, her voice soft, but there was an edge to it now—something more vulnerable, something Jack couldn’t ignore. "I’ve missed you these last couple of days. Your schedule’s been all over the place, and I’ve been working late shifts... It’d be nice to just snuggle with you. You know, wake up next to you."

Jack’s brain short-circuited. The thought of waking up beside her, of having her close, overwhelmed him. Just the way she said it—her words carrying something deeper—made his heart race. He couldn’t focus on anything else. She knew exactly what she was doing. The sly smile on her lips, the gleam in her eyes—it all made it clear she wasn’t just asking to stay. She was asking for something more.

Jack kissed her temple—soft, quick—before answering, his voice unsteady, without thinking, “Sure, Jaja. That sounds amazing.”

"Thanks, baby," she said lightly, almost singing the words. "I’ll just grab one of your T-shirts for PJs and take a quick shower."

Before Jack could even process it, Anja jumped up from his lap, leaving him sitting there alone, his mind racing. She was leaving him spinning, and he had no idea how to catch up. He tried to steady himself, but his thoughts were already scattered, caught between what he wanted and what he was afraid of.

“Minx,” Jack murmured under his breath, leaning back into the couch, running a hand through his hair. He knew exactly what she was doing, but he wasn’t ready to play along—not yet. Anja deserved more than a rushed moment while his brother and his girlfriend were just down the hall.

Still, the thought of her in his T-shirt, of her curled up beside him, made it hard to resist.

—

He exhaled slowly, forcing himself to think about anything else. Hockey stats. The weather. The existential dread of taxes.

Then the bathroom door clicked open.

Jack’s head snapped up.

Anja stepped out, bathed in the soft, golden glow of the bedside lamp. Her damp hair cascaded over her shoulders, darkened from the water, strands sticking to her collarbone. His breath stalled in his chest as his gaze drifted lower, catching on the oversized white T-shirt she’d chosen.

His T-shirt.

The fabric was old, worn thin from years of washing, clinging just enough to show the shape of her body. It barely covered her thighs, teasing at modesty—but when she moved, the dim light made the cotton damn near see-through. And under that shirt…nothing. Not even a pantie.

Jack’s grip on his phone tightened. Hard.

She knew what she was doing.

Anja smirked, catching the way his dark eyes flickered over her before he forced them back up. The way his chest rose and fell just a little too fast. She crossed the room slowly, stepping onto the bed, crawling toward him with deliberate slowness. Her fingers traced over his bare arm, featherlight, enough to make his breath hitch.

“You know,” she murmured, tilting her head, “I could have brought my own pajamas.” Her smirk widened. “But this just felt… better.”

Jack swallowed hard, his back pressing against the headboard like it could somehow create space between them. He needed to slow this down. He needed to say something—anything—to keep himself in check.

“Anja…” His voice was low, rough, a warning.

She didn’t let him finish.

Curling up beside him, she let her lips graze his jawline, barely a whisper of contact. Jack went still, every muscle in his body wound tight. Her breath was warm against his skin, her presence intoxicating, impossible to ignore.

“Relax, Hughes,” she teased. “I know what I want.”

Jack exhaled sharply, his hands flexing at his sides. He wanted to touch her. Badly. But if he did, there’d be no going back.

Anja’s fingers slid under the hem of his shirt, her nails tracing faint patterns across his stomach, slow, exploratory. “I want you, Jack,” she whispered against his ear. “Not just the careful version of you. I want all of you.”

Jack clenched his jaw, tilting his head back, fighting for control.

“Anja…” he ground out, his voice thick with restraint, “you don’t know what you’re asking for.”

She shifted, straddling his lap, her hands gripping his shoulders, forcing him to look at her. “Don’t I?” she challenged, her gaze locked on his.

Jack knew that look. The same one she’d given him in the bookstore the first night they met—the night they sat there, arguing over War and Peace, the night he’d felt something shift inside him. That knowing, unwavering gaze.

“I saw you, Jack,” she said softly. “Not just the cocky hockey player everyone else sees. Not just the guy who acts like nothing gets to him. I saw You. And I think—no, I know—that we are perfect for each other. So stop fighting. Stop being afraid that being yourself will chase me away. I trust you. With my heart, with everything.”

She leaned in, lips brushing his ear, her voice a breathless whisper.

“So take me, Jack.”

Jack’s restraint snapped like a frayed thread.

His hands found her waist, fingers pressing into her skin, pulling her against him. With a rough growl, he flipped them over, pressing her into the mattress, his body caging hers in.

His lips crashed onto hers, all heat, all desperation. It wasn’t careful. It wasn’t slow. It was every moment he’d held back, every time he’d wanted her and hadn’t let himself have her.

Jack’s hand slid up, fingers curling around her throat, firm enough to make her breath hitch. His grip wasn’t tight—just enough to remind her who was in control. He crushed his mouth to hers, his tongue sweeping inside, swallowing the soft gasp she let out.

Anja rocked her soaked core against his thigh, her fingers threading through his hair, tugging, demanding more.

Jack pulled back just enough to meet her gaze, his breath ragged, lips swollen, self-control slipping fast. “You sure you want this?” His voice was rough, almost a growl. “Luke and Thea are in the other room. And you won’t be quiet if we start, darling.”

His eyes locked onto hers—one last chance to stop him.

Anja arched up, pressing her body flush against his, nails scraping down his back, making him suck in a sharp breath. Her smile was wicked, teasing. “Pretty sure we’ve both heard enough of them to know they’re not exactly holding back.” Her lips brushed his ear, her voice pure sin. “It’s our turn.”

Jack’s smirk was slow, dark—pure fucking trouble. That cocky, self-assured look that had driven her crazy since day one.

“Oh, sweetheart,” he murmured, his lips ghosting over her throat, making her shiver. “You just opened Pandora’s box.”

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