#CAM THE SUMMER COME ALREADY

[bobonani]

Random; #2

i aspire to be as pretty as lishu 💔💔💔

LIKE LOOK ME DEAD IN THE EYES AND TELL ME THIS ISN'T PEAK 14 YEAR OLD PRETTY-NESS!!!! I SWEAR ILL BE LIKE AN ARAB VERSION OF HER AFTER MY GLOW UP (im just getting braces and hopefully some new clothes if i ask nice enough) IN THE SUMMER TRUSTTT

yeah okay im going insane...

-bobonani

[mer-se]

nice way to spend new years

[leonalovesalot]

Freaky on camera I

Brother’sBestFriend!ArtDonaldson x Camgirl!Reader

18+ MinorsDNI

wc: 2.5k

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Being a student athlete while maintaining a high enough GPA to keep a full-ride scholarship was no easy feat. Art had spread himself too thin and had barely gotten a taste of that college life he had been so excited for. Between practice, tournaments, exams, and assignments, Art sometimes didn't have time to eat dinner, let alone party. And the one time he did force himself to go to a frat party on a Friday night, he began yawning and felt his eyes getting heavy by ten pm. He called it quits, left without saying goodbye to his friends, and just came back to his dorm to pass out.

He was exhausted and was counting down the days until the summer. A few weeks off school was exactly what he needed. He just had to get through the final stretch of exams and he'd be done. He was already dreaming of driving back home and seeing his parents. Eating a home-cooked meal and sleeping in a room that wasn't the size of a shoebox. He'd hang out with and finally catch up with Patrick after months- just thinking about it was making him smile.

Art had a pretty simple routine. After class, he'd have practice, then he'd come back to his dorm, shower, and study until the words on the page started blurring and floating around. He'd then call it a night, and get in bed with his phone in one hand and a sock in the other. What? He needed a way to relieve stress and it's not like he'd gotten a girlfriend during his time at college. A girlfriend who'd be eager to suck him off whenever he needed. A girlfriend who'd be ready to please him anytime. No, he hadn't found anyone and so his hand would have to suffice.

Lately, though, the usual videos didn't do it for him. Watching two people go at it wasn't personal enough for him- it got him hard but he was still craving something else. He was embarrassed to admit, but he wanted to feel seen, noticed - he wanted interaction.

Tonight, like any other night, he was ready with his earbuds in and phone in his hand. He looked up the usual site he visited and typed in his usual search. He clicks on a video that looks appealing and starts to bring his hand down under his boxers waiting for the page to load. The page loads but he's met with a pop-up ad instead. In large, pink letters it read "Want company? The hottest girls are only a click away. No bullshit!" Art groans, annoyed, and is about to click the small 'x' on the corner but something makes him pause.

Isn't this what he wanted? Interaction? Not to be alone?

It looked like a cam-girl website which intrigued him. Why hadn't he ever tried this before? He knew it wasn't free, but he was curious. Maybe just for tonight he could check it out? See if there's anything worth his time (and money). He pulls his hand out of his boxers and sits up in his twin bed. He goes ahead and clicks on the ad which then directs him to a new page.

A bunch of thumbnails of women, some naked, with a big red 'LIVE' in the corner. Woah, this was the real deal. He scrolls down for a moment, familiarizing himself with the site until it asks him to sign up and subscribe 'for all your fantasies in one place'. There was a week-long free trial, and after a few minutes of heavy debating, he decided to sign up.

Username: _________

Art pauses and thinks for a few seconds. He couldn’t use his actual name but maybe he could rearrange the letters?

He types in slowly: GoldenSon

He makes up a quick password and mindlessly agrees to the terms and conditions. The account was ready.

He repeats to himself he was only doing this to feed his curiosity. He'd definitely cancel after the free trial ended.

When the paywall finally went away, he continued scrolling. The amount of people watching some of these videos was blowing his mind. One woman had 12.6k viewers. So, almost thirteen thousand people were watching one woman pleasure herself. Art thought it was kind of laughable but realized he was here to do the same. He scrolled down further and the numbers of viewers began to decrease.

Coming upon people with a few hundred viewers was a lot less intimidating. He thought that maybe this is what he was looking for. His eyes raked over the whole webpage before him and suddenly widened at the sight of a specific thumbnail. His eyes squinted and he zoomed in to make sure he wasn’t hallucinating.

Art gasps, his breath catching in his throat. He turns his phone off, and hurls it toward the foot of the bed. His heart was beating a mile a minute and his face was burning up.

That couldn’t be right?

That… no.

No.

He sat on his bed with his face buried in his hands.

He thought he saw you. Patrick’s sister. On a fucking cam-girl site.

He shakes his head. No no. He was definitely mistaking you for someone else. No way.

He catches his breath and lifts his head from his hands. His eyes dart to his laptop on the desk across the room. There’s no harm in making sure right? He’d be doing this to keep his mind at peace.

He swallows and pushes the covers away. He knew his plans for the night were cancelled as he made his way over to his study corner.

Art sits down, opens his laptop and types in the website's name. He pauses to take a deep breath. Okay. Here we go.

He scrolls down slowly, eyeing every thumbnail.

He didn’t know what he wanted. If it really was you, what would he do with that information? Would he tell Patrick? Should he?

Even if it wasn’t you, he still finds the whole situation a little weird. Why was he picturing you, of all people, on this site? And at this time of the night?

Art had known you your whole life. At least that’s how it seemed. He didn’t know you that well because you were always just ‘Patrick’s sister’ to him. He could count on one hand the number of conversations he’d had with you, one-on-one. But he still, loosely, knew what you were up to and the type of person you were. A nice girl who kept to herself and had a tight-knit group of friends. Not much else to it.

He finally scrolls down far enough and comes across the videos with a few hundred views. He took a deep breath and carefully ran his eyes over each row.

His eyes stopped at one thumbnail. And he felt like his heart was going to follow suit.

It was you.

Holy fuck it was you.

It was larger on his laptop screen so he clearly recognized your face, your hair, your eyes, and your lips. He reads the alias you've created for yourself - 'YourRoxy'. He then hovers his cursor over the small box and debates clicking.

His curiosity was fist fighting his self-restraint.

Curiosity won.

Art closes his eyes tight and clicks on the thumbnail.

“Ooh! A new viewer. Hey, welcome.” Your voice sounded different than it usually did. You were putting on a persona, clearly. One with a low and sensual voice that spread goosebumps all over his body.

Art opens his eyes, and stares at you properly now. You took up his whole screen. His eyes began to look everywhere, but at you. It felt wrong.

The chat at the side of the screen was filled with men, and women it seemed, sharing their dirtiest thoughts and questions. There were currently a hundred and four people watching you. Some sent money along with their comments and those were the ones you were enthusiastically responding to.

Art takes in a shaky breath.

His eyes finally wander back to you. He’d never seen you in such little clothing. A skimpy, white tank top that barely covered your breasts. God, what were you doing? How was this real?

Your eyes narrowed at a comment and you read it to yourself under your breath, “are you single?”

Art’s ears perk up.

You giggle softly, “I am, yeah. I have yet to meet a man who can handle me.” You smirk at the camera and tilt your head.

Art hadn’t even blinked since he started watching you. You knew what you were doing. How did he not notice how fucking sexy you were when he’d come over before? He shakes his head. No, that’s wrong. Why would he think that way? That would jeopardize his friendship with Patrick.

“Yeah? You could handle me Dan96?” You smile sweetly, “I’d like to know how. Tell me.”

Oh my god. How could you say these things? And why couldn’t Art just turn away?

Dan96 had sent you $50 for that one question. You made fifty bucks in, literally, one second.

Art shakily brings his hand up to the keyboard and types in the question: how does this work?

He sends it in and notices that you hadn’t responded.

No, you were too busy flirting with Dan96.

You bite your lip and smile, “you’d choke me while fucking me? I like that. A little choking never hurt anyone”

Art’s eyes widened. He’d never heard you say such explicit things. What’s more shocking though was that he was starting to get hard. He groans- this was so wrong!

He swallows and decides to send in his question again, but this time attaching five bucks to it.

GoldenSon: how does this usually work?

He chews on his lip while he waits. You stop mid- sentence while talking to Dan96 and look at the new comment.

“How does this usually work?” You chuckle gently and Art feels himself grow slightly embarrassed.

“I’m guessing you’re new uhm.. GoldenSon. Aw, what a cute name.” Art covers his face with his hands. He couldn’t believe this was happening. He was getting more aroused by the second. It really had been a while since he talked to a girl. A pretty one too. God, you were pretty. How had he not noticed?

“This can work however you’d like. I’m here to chat.. we can talk about your day. My day- anything really. Or if you’d like me to do something .. like take off my clothes,” Art’s breath hitched. “Mm you want me to touch myself? You want me to talk you through it? I’m here for anything. I’m here for you. All I want is to make you feel good.” You lick your lips.

Art was drooling onto his keyboard. There was a tent in his boxers now that was getting uncomfortable to ignore.

Fuck, he wanted to touch himself so bad. He wanted you to touch him.

Oh, god. This was a mistake.

He should’ve just gone to bed. Why did he click on the ad? Why did he make an account? Why did he scroll so far down? Why did you have to be so alluring? Why was he typing into the chat again?

Why was he asking you to help him get off?

GoldenSon: Talk me through it

Art trembled as he moved his hands over the keyboard.

He watches your expression morph into one full of intrigue.

"Alright, baby. Are you hard for me?" You tilt your head and lean a little closer to the camera, accentuating your tits.

Art gulps and brings his right hand down to his throbbing cock. There was a wet spot forming on his boxers already. This was going to be quick.

GoldenSon: So hard

You read his comment and smile immediately. Art mentally pats himself on the back like he was desperate for your approval.

The disturbing fact that you were his best friend's sister was still rattling around in his mind but was silenced by the overwhelming arousal he was feeling.

"I like the sound of that. I wanna get you off. I wish I was there with you, GoldenSon," You brought your hand up to rest your chin on. It was all strategic because your pinky finger was resting on your bottom lip which was then parted and your pinky was in between your teeth.

Art stared like a deer in headlights at your pretty lips, and your pretty mouth.

Did you mean it? He shivered. Did you mean what you said about wanting to be there with him? Have you ever thought of him in a sexual way? Or was he just Patrick's friend to you?

A moan interrupts his thoughts as he looks down and realizes he had his hand wrapped around his girthy cock and was moving it up and down.

He brings his free hand to type into the chat again.

GoldenSon: wish ypu wer here too

Normally he'd be annoyed about the typos but his focus was fully on his pleasure and your face.

"If I was there, I'd be ready for you- on my knees. Ready to make you feel good. You must be a hard working man. You deserve someone to make you feel good. Oh, I wanna taste you so bad." You let out a small whine and brought your hand to your breast and squeezed it.

Art's eyes widened and he couldn't believe the sight in front of him. This was like a million layers of fucked up.

You were Patrick's sister.

He was Patrick's friend. Best friend.

You had no idea that he was the one speaking to you like this.

You had no idea he was jerking off to your fucking tits when he'd barely spare you a glance on most days.

Art tightened his grip, applying more pressure, and continued the motion as he stared closely at your breasts.

GoldenSon: im cloxer

You smile at his typo, which probably indicated to you that he was more focused on something else.

"I want you to cum for me, baby. Oh, I wish I could taste it. I'd lick it all off you- every last drop. Clean you up with my tongue. You want that don't you?" You pulled your tank top down and one of your tits sprung out, which you cupped and played with.

Art watches in shock. He then shuts his eyes tight and feels himself reach his climax with the image of your tits on his mind. He feels hot release drip down his palms and he groans as he milks himself. He pants and catches his breath, still in a daze.

GoldenSon: Thank you, Roxy

"Of course, baby." You blow a kiss at the screen, "I'm here Tuesday's and Friday's after ten pm," You cover yourself up with your tank top again. "Will I see you again?" You were staring into the camera with your twinkling eyes.

You had him in a trance. Patrick's sister had him in a trance.

GoldenSon: Yes

[GoldenSon has gifted you $20]

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If I told you I wrote half of this while in line at the bank would you believe me?

Thank you for reading, as always!!

[stillalivebydemand893]

Too Many Nights

(hot)

An innocent spin the bottle game didn’t just break hearts,it blew the damn roof off.🤭

It was that time again,the annual Campbell Lake Trip, where brain cells go to die and dignity gets left in the driveway. Booze was stacked in the back of the Jeep, the aux was already plugged in, and Metro Boomin was hitting harder than your childhood trauma.

"LEEEET’S FUCKING GOOOOO!!" Julia howled with four different flavored vapes in her hand, puffing the clouds away .

"Bro, no. Don't smoke that banana ice garbage in my car," Erik groaned, already done with her. "I don’t want the backseat to smell like a tropical diaper for the next month."

You were on the hood of the Jeep, pre-gaming like it was the Olympics and vodka was your sport. Exams were DONE. Summer was HERE. Life was FUN.

"Do we have to leave Paco at home?" Bobby whined, stuffing bags in the trunk like a freshly divorced dad saying goodbye to his toddler. "What if Mom cooks him by mistake again?"

"You know in some countries, that’s considered a delicacy,” you giggled, throwing on your sunglasses already feeling the buzz.

“Get in the car, princess, or he’s gonna cry,” Erik chuckled, holding his hand out like the cocky bastard he was.

You jumped into his arms and oh hellooo??was it the booze, or did his hands linger just a little too long on your waist? Hot. Steamy. Illegal-in-some-states level hot.

“Damn, Campbell. Who made you king of this clown car?” you smirked, still nestled in his arms.

“Brat,” he grinned, letting you go with a tap on your ass as he turned to start the engine.

Your skin was on fire. But not like a rash,like, good fire. You’d crushed on Erik since the day you moved in next door four years ago,but you never said a word. The Campbells were your safe space. Your emotional support chaos crew.

“PEACH. AUX. PLAY CHARLI XCX,” Julia shrieked from the backseat already with a beer in her hand.You slid into the front seat.

“Hell no,” Erik said, smacking his hand over yours before you could grab the aux cord,like some kind of playlist police. He left his hand there, warm, dominant, suspiciously sexy.

“C’mon, Kiki,” you pleaded, batting your lashes like a Disney princess .

He lifted his hand only to grab your face and squish your cheeks. “I’ll drop your ass at the train station if you try that again.”

“COME ON, YOU JACKASS. Peach—show him your boobs!” Julia yelled with the subtlety of a car crash, now halfway through her second beer.

“WHAT?!” you and Erik yelped in unison, turning to look at each other in complete panic/horny confusion.

“Girl, do you even know how to manipulate a man?” Julia snorted.

You looked at Erik. Erik looked at the road, praying for strength .

You leaned over, mischief in your grin. “Fine. I’ll show you my boobs if you let me play whatever I want.”

He blinked. “Are you buffering?”

“HELLO??” you snapped.

“Deal,” he said way too fast. Then smirked. “Only if I get to pierce them.”

OH. OH. Devil? Is that you?

“You sneaky little motherfu-” you began, but let’s be real: having Erik Campbell pierce your nips was top 3 on your “do before death” list. “Deal,” you grinned.

“You guys are FREAKS,” Bobby sighed from the backseat, watching Paco on the home cam .

“You haven’t seen us yet,” Erik fired back, tossing a wink your way that had you considering sin.

Was this heaven? Was this hell? Who cares,you were on your way either way, with Charlie XCX on the aux and Erik’s devilish smirk burning holes in your soul.

After what felt like a six-year road trip powered solely by vape clouds and siblings figths you finally pulled up to the lake house.

The cousins were already down by the lake, beers in hand, making questionable playlist choices. A few of the Campbells' high school friends were pre-gaming hard on the porch like it was frat formal 2012.

“LET’S GET THIS PARTY STARTED, BITCHES!” Bobby screamed as he yeeted himself out of the Jeep .Turns out Julia had laced his protein shake with straight vodka. Again.

“Let’s LIT this party, Campbell,” you said, lighting a joint .

Erik put on his sunglasses, fist-bumped you like a bro with secrets, and boom: the party was officially unhinged.

You started floating through the crowd, saying hey to old faces and new bad ideas. Meanwhile, Erik was busy being charming,a little too charming,with his high school crush, freshly single, freshly annoying.

You’d heard that from Jules earlier and yeah… jealousy? It showed up like a clingy ex. You pretended you were chill. You were not chill.

To distract yourself from combusting, you grabbed their younger cousin and dragged him into the cabin to help with bags.

“C’mon, kiddo. You’re my emotional support now” you said, patting his back like a coach before the big game. It was his first invite ever, and he looked like he might cry from excitement,or fear. Same difference.

Then the sun went down, and the feral switch flipped.

Beer pong was raging. Teams were set. You and Erik vs. his crush and Bobby.

This was WAR.

“Don’t mess this up, Kiki. I’m already on my last brain cell,” you hissed at him.

He cracked his neck like a dramatic little shit. “Watch me, Peach. I’ve been training for this since the womb.”

He sank the last cup like a god. Victory.

“THAT’S MY BOY!!” you shouted, making eye contact with the Barbie doll across the table and drinking in her passive-aggressive glare.

“Told ya,” Erik smirked.

You ruffled his hair and swore you saw him blush,but it could’ve been the booze… or the emotional whiplash. Unclear.

“Victory piggyback. Pay up,” you demanded.

He crouched, and you jumped on like it was your Roman chariot. Legs around his waist. Arms around his neck. Dangerously close. Questionable choices? Activated.

He was laughing. You were swaying.

“Easy, princess. You’re gonna get us both killed,” he giggled, tipsy as hell.

You kissed his cheek. Just a quick peck.

Then froze.

What. The. Actual-

His ears turned bright red. You stared. He stared back.

You panicked.

So naturally… you did it again.

This time, slower.

“Why are you so cute all of a sudden?” you whispered into his ear .

He turned his head, and that SMIRK? That cocky, I-know-what-you-want smirk?

“Now I’m cute?” he said. “Wasn’t I a loser ten minutes ago?”

“You still are,” you whispered. “But you’re my loser.”

He groaned. Not fake. Not joking. Like he was actively fighting off a decision that would ruin both your lives in the hottest way.

“You’re gonna be the death of me.”

Before you could say “then die madly in love”, Julia screamed from the backyard like a drunk war general.

“SPIN THE BOTTLE IS HAPPENING! IF YOU'RE NOT KISSING STRANGERS IN FIVE MINUTES, YOU’RE DEAD TO ME!”

Erik looked at you. You looked at him.

And just like that,you both knew.

Tonight was about to get so, so illegal.

Everyone crowded into the living room like horny sardines. Half the room was sitting on the floor. The other half? Already tipsy, already yelling, already one dare away from getting banned from family events.

Julia had somehow turned spin-the-bottle into a spectator sport.

Rules? None. Boundaries? Absolutely not.

The bottle spun in the center like it had a personal vendetta.

You sat next to Erik, still riding the high of your piggyback-kiss stunt, until Julia clapped and screamed:

“ALRIGHT, WHO WANTS TO TRAUMA BOND?”

First spin. Chaos. Second spin. A dare that may or may not have resulted in someone licking sunscreen off a cousin's abs. Third spin? Erik’s turn.

You were sitting pretty, thinking:

“No way fate’s that evil. No way it lands on her.”

It landed on her.

The blonde. The crush. The Barbie bitch.

His high school dream with the waist of a Coke bottle and the face of a girl who cries in a cute way.

You laughed it off. Totally chill. Not even bothered. (You were so bothered.)

“Go on, lover boy,” Julia grinned, already filming. “Seal your middle school fantasy.”

Erik blinked. Looked at you. Looked at her.

Then,he kissed her.

You saw red.

Like, actual fire-nation attack red.

It was a short kiss. Innocent, maybe.

But not to you. Oh no.

To you, it was a declaration of WAR.

And the bottle? Oh, the bottle KNEW.

Next spin? Yours.

It landed right. Back. On. Erik.

The room lost it.

Everyone was screaming. Julia dropped her vape. Bobby yelled, “OOOOH NOOOO” like it was the Super Bowl.

You looked at Erik. He looked at you. There was tension. No, it was heat. The room could’ve been on fire and you would’ve blamed it on whatever was happening between your legs.

“You gonna kiss me, Peach?” he smirked, clearly thinking he was winning.

“Don’t flatter yourself,” you said.

And then you kissed him.

No,you made out with him. Right there. In front of everyone.

It wasn’t a kiss. It was a public service announcement.

It was a “that kiss with Barbie meant nothing and this means everything” kind of kiss.

Your hands in his hair. His arms locked around your waist.

Your bodies pressed together like the only air left was in each other's mouths.

People were screaming. Julia was waving a beach towel like a flag. Bobby was filming and chanting “SPIN THAT TONGUE.” One of the cousins screamed, “IS THIS ALLOWED?!”

Erik groaned against your lips, pulled you closer, kissed you like he’d been starving for four summers and you were the last cold beer on earth.

You broke the kiss. Eventually. Maybe. (Time was fake.)

You looked at Barbie. She looked like she’d just witnessed a crime.

Good.

“Fuck me,” Erik breathed, completely dazed. “What the hell was that?”

You wiped your lip with your thumb. Smirked.

“That? That was me winning.”

The second your lips left Erik’s, the air shifted.

The room was still loud, people were still shouting,but it all felt muffled.You could still taste him. You could still feel his hands on your hips like they were claiming something.

And the worst part? The blonde was still watching.

You turned your head, slowly. She looked like she wanted to hang you. Good. She should.

But the second Erik stepped back, just a little,just enough,a knot twisted in your stomach.

Because it wasn’t supposed to feel like that.

That kiss? It was a dare. A joke. A game.

Except it wasn’t.

And the way Erik looked at you now,like he was still trying to figure out what the hell just happened,made it worse.

You shoved past him, beer still in your hand, walking toward the kitchen like you weren’t seconds away from combusting.

“Peach-”

You didn’t stop.

He followed. Of course he did.

“What was that?You fucking kissed me like you meant it,” he said behind you, voice low, tight.

You slammed your beer on the counter, spun around.

“You kissed her first.”

“Because I didn’t have a choice-!”

“No,” you snapped, stepping closer, “you wanted to. Don’t play dumb, Erik. She was your dream girl in high school, right? So congratulations. You got your kiss.”

He stared at you, breathing hard. “She’s not my dream girl anymore Peach.And it felt like nothing.”

You blinked.

“What?” you whispered.

He stepped closer. “You wanna know what that kiss with her felt like? Nothing. I felt nothing. And then you looked at me like you hated me. And then you kissed me and I haven’t been able to think straight for a goddamn second.”

You should’ve walked away. You should’ve said something smart. But you didn’t.

You grabbed his shirt, pulled him in, and kissed him like you were punishing him.

You didn’t even care anymore. Not about the people. Not about his blonde high school crush watching from the living room. Not about the fact that this was supposed to be a dumb game and a joke.

No.

You were past the point of caring.

You wanted him to feel what you felt-

That heat. That ache. That jealous, angry, horny madness burning you alive from the inside out.

Erik grabbed your hips like he owned them. Like he’d waited years to touch you like this. You kissed him like you were punishing him for making you wait.

He bit your bottom lip.

You gasped.

Your hands fisted in his shirt.

He pulled your legs up, hooked it around his hips.

And you nearly lost it.

“This is so bad,” you breathed against his mouth.

“Yeah?,” he growled. “So stop me.”

You didn’t.

You devoured him. Kissed him like revenge. Like hunger. Like the only way to kill the feeling was to climb inside his skin.

He picked you up like it was nothing,and sat you on the counter like it was his kitchen and his rules.

You moaned into his mouth. He swallowed it.

“Still jealous?” he whispered, lips dragging across your jaw.

You grabbed a fistful of his hair and yanked his head back just enough to look him in the eyes.

“You think this is about her?” you hissed. “I’m not jealous, Erik. I’m obsessed.”

His breath caught. His fingers dug into your thighs. You felt everything,every inch of him pressed between your legs.

“Fuck,” he muttered, forehead against yours, voice wrecked. “Say that again.”

You kissed him instead. Sloppier. Hungrier. He groaned so deep it vibrated through your whole body.

Your lips moved to his neck. You bit.

He hissed.

“You’re gonna be the death of me,” he gasped.

You smirked, licking the bite.

“Then die on your knees.”

He groaned, buried his face in your neck, hands everywhere now,spine, ribs, under your shirt, up your sides like he wanted to learn you by touch.

You only stopped when Bobby walked into the kitchen, froze, and just muttered:

“I’m gonna go eat rocks outside.”

Except Erik, who didn’t even lift his head from your neck. He just muttered, deadpan, “Lock the damn door next time.”

You bit back a laugh, still drunk on adrenaline, lips swollen, heart racing. You looked Bobby dead in the eye.

“Good. Chew slow.”

He backed out of the kitchen like he saw Satan himself.

You finally peeled yourself off Erik, skin buzzing, brain short-circuited.

“Okay,” you said, straightening your top like it mattered. “That… escalated.”

He stepped back just enough to let you breathe but kept one hand on your waist like he wasn’t done with you.

“Yeah,” he said, voice low, eyes dark. “And we’re not even close to finished.”

Your stomach flipped.

He kissed your cheek. Innocent. Dangerous. Deadly.

“Room. Ten minutes. If you’re not there, I’m coming to get you.”

He didn’t wait for a reply.

He just walked off, shoulders tense, jaw clenched.

You blinked. Exhaled. Tried to fix your lip gloss, but your hands were shaking.

Part 2 my loves?🤭

[kaysfanficcorner]

The Camgirl and the Millionaire, Part 2

Pairing: Harry Castillo x Camgirl Reader

Summary: You tell Harry what you don't do for a living, and the charity concert heats things up a bit.

Author's Note: Oh my goodness, I was not expecting to post the second part to this immediately after posting part one. But it was already written and I was happy with it so here ya go! Thank you for the love and support on part one, your interaction with that introductory chapter means the world to me! I am so stoked to share what I have planned for these two, and I'm aiming to tie this up as a neat little five part fic. But, I have a tendency to go overboard and find excuses to make my fics longer (looking at you, Out of This World), so we shall see if I can stick to that or not!

I want to go ahead and warn that I am not a fluent Spanish speaker. A novice at best. But, my partner and I are casually learning the language and there are a few moments involving Spanish in this chapter. Part two is heavily influenced by my obsession with a certain Latin American artist (you'll see), and so I make a reference to some lyrics. I did my best to ensure that the translations are accurate. I love the language and I would like to do it justice if I am going to reference it in my work.

New note, 6/25: I went back and made one small edit to this chapter. In it, Harry originally said it was June. For the outline I have planned I needed to move things up two months to August, so now I just made Harry make a vague reference to it being summer. You’ll understand when part 4 comes out!

Song Inspiration

Warnings: Drinking; Smoking THC; Harry is a little intoxicated and horny; Reader is too; Lying is stressful and bad, don't lie if you like someone a lot; Reader is bisexual; More descriptions of Reader's cam sessions; Cursing; Grinding; Kissing; Dancing; A little dirty talk; No Smut yet but we are edging towards it.

Minors DNI; Strictly 18+

Ao3

*****

Harry’s body is close to yours as you lean your back against the wall in a semi secluded corner of the venue. Sipping your drink, the third one since you started talking to him nearly forty-five minutes ago, any trepidation you felt about him before has left your person for the time being. The job subject hasn’t come up again. Instead you were able to slyly gloss over it, starting a new conversation by asking him his favorite thing about life in New York, and then things evolved from there.  

You’re both about to need a fourth drink by the looks of each nearly empty glass, but you’re not so sure if a fourth drink is a great idea. Harry seems to be holding his liquor just fine, but you’re a pot smoker at heart and you don’t normally drink this much. You know you’re tipsy, and you don’t want to take things too far and risk ruining the night for yourself. Vanessa never came back, and you’re not sure how she’ll react to know you’ve been getting semi drunk with a stranger. Then again, she’s been practically begging you to try and meet someone ever since she and Charles got together. Who knows, maybe she’ll be thrilled.

All you know is, you’ll be thanking her later when the two of you eventually make it back home. Harry Castillo is much better company than that silly vampire prince. 

You’re too lost in watching the skin around his eyes wrinkle with laughter at the dumb joke you just made a moment ago, and the beautiful dramatic curve of his broad nose when he turns his head to look briefly at the empty stage. He’s gorgeous from every angle, but that side profile of his is something else entirely. And his laugh? What a gift that sound is. 

“Are you listening?” The man you're mesmerized with asks as his chuckles fizzle out and he looks you up and down, brow lifting. “I asked you a question and you just stared at me.”

“Honestly, no. I wasn’t listening. You’re a little distracting when I’ve had three vodka sodas with generous pours. Have I told you that you’re handsome, Harry?” You’re unable to stop yourself as your hand lifts up and you run three manicured fingers through the hair just above his ear. You’re careful not to mess it up too much, and you revel in the softness of it.

Harry leans down, mouth hovering six or so inches from yours as his brown eyes bore into you. “Have I told you that you’re beautiful?”

Your chest swells and your stomach flutters at the question, lifting up towards him slightly. It would be so easy to kiss him, and it would also be utterly insane. Instead you force yourself not to. 

“Can we get some air? It suddenly feels like a million degrees. I guess I need to pace myself with these.” As you say that last sentence, you lift up your empty glass and send him an embarrassed little look while you shake it about and let the ice clink around. 

Harry’s eyes darken slightly with a vaguely lusty countenance, his free hand coming to rest on the wall right behind your head as he grins down at you. “I don’t think it's the booze heating things up in here. I could use to cool-off as well.”

With that, his hand slides from the wall and his fingers graze the side of your neck. A shiver runs up your spine as those fingers delicately run along the line of your jaw, before the tip of his index finger curls just under your chin. A small bit of pressure from him and you’re lifting up even more to meet him. You’re sure he’s going to kiss you for a moment, but then he simply shakes his head as if he cannot believe the sight before his eyes. 

“You really are beautiful.” 

Finger leaving your chin, his arm is suddenly weaving through yours, hooking at the elbow as he begins to pull you towards the huge glass doors of the terrace. Along the way you both discard your empty drinks, and then he’s leading you out into the warm summer night air. The two of you have the terrace all to yourselves, as everyone else seems to be inside anticipating the concert to begin at any moment.

“Do you smoke?” You ask him, squinting a little as you gauge his reaction. 

“I used to smoke cigarettes. Quit in my thirties.” Harry shrugs, eyeing you for a moment before looking out at the surrounding city. 

The view is pretty spectacular, and the night sky is as clear as it can be in a city this large. There’s a full moon peeking out from just behind the tallest building you can see at this angle. It’s picturesque, but none of that really matters right now in his presence. 

Pulling the thin little dab pen from your small black purse, you hold the sleek looking thing to your lips and take a long, satisfying drag. He looks back at you just as you decide to blow it out, so the vapor leaves your mouth through a sly grin as you hold the pen out to him. “What about weed?” 

Brows raising, he takes the pen from you and lets his warm fingers linger against yours for a long moment. That’s practically enough to make you dizzy. 

“Occasionally. Usually in more private settings and not at an event like this. It’s expected that I keep up appearances, you know.” Harry examines the thing, then he puts the mouthpiece to his plump lips and pulls a hefty drag of his own.           

God what you wouldn’t give to bite that bottom lip of his, body heating up as you watch the black plastic tip of the device rest indented against the pouty pink flesh there. A moment later he lets the vapor go with a sputtering, wide-eyed cough.

“Easy. Down, boy,” the phrase leaves your mouth along with a fit of giggles as you smack him lightly on the back.

“Jesus,” Harry blurts out between coughs, “you did that like a pro. I feel like a blundering novice.”

“I’m a seasoned veteran,” you say with a small bow, fully aware of the cleavage shot you’re gracing him with as you take the pen back.

“Apparently so,” Harry says with a chuckle, eyes lingering on your offered chest for a moment. “God, my throat burns.”

You frown a little, not wanting to have hurt him. “Yeah, sorry. Vapes are kind of awful. But they do nicely in a pinch, or when I’m out and about like this.” 

“So you go out often, then? Just not in the circles I run in, I suppose.”

“I can’t say that Van and I spend a lot of time with late forties businessmen, no.”

“I wish I didn’t. What kinds of circles do you run in, then?” As he asks this question, another more important question seems to dawn on him. A wild look of realization washes over his face. The dab pen certainly made him a bit more emotive, and you can’t help but find it endearing. “Oh! Do you have a boyfriend?”

A giddy little smirk finds your lips, happy to know that’s a concern of his. “No boyfriend. No girlfriend. No relationship. And, honestly, not that many circles. I have a handful of friends, but usually I enjoy doing things on my own most of the time. Reading, going to the movies, making food.”

Harry’s lovely brown eyes, red and squinting now, widen comically as a look of stoned pleasure takes over his handsome features. After that, his facial muscles relax considerably.  You know he’s feeling high when a warm hum escapes him as he says, “Mm, nice. I love movies. And books. And food.” Then his eyes grow even wider, as if he just remembered that food even exists. “Oh my god. I love food. We should get food after this. Something greasy?”

Harry’s enthusiasm sends you over with giggles, shaking your head at your handsome new friend. Clearly he doesn’t smoke as much as you do. “I’d get food with you, Harry. Who doesn’t love food?”

“Weirdos, I’m sure,” he chuckles confidently, smiling at you. “Do you speak Spanish?” He asks, suddenly changing the subject as he leans an elbow over the railing. “I got the impression that your roommate does.”

You nod, “She’s Mexican, so good call. It was her first language. I’m not fluent or anything but I’ve spent so much time with her that I can understand it much better than I can speak it. We watch a lot of Spanish language films together, and she’s influenced most of my current taste in music. But even still, I get so nervous that my accent is atrocious.”

“Say something in Spanish,” he softly commands, nodding once with more of that charming confidence of his. He’s going to send you over the edge just by existing, you just know it. There’s a gorgeous view of the city you love so much behind him, but he’s the only thing you can see right now.  

Stoned and nervous, you hide your face in your hands and say the first thing that comes to mind, “ Frijoles negros .” 

Harry barks with laughter and embarrassment immediately floods your system. You frown, looking down at the street below for a second. 

Harry seems to notice this, shaking his head and smiling at you fondly with reddened, squinting eyes. “Hey, no. I didn’t mean to laugh. Your accent is actually lovely. You should feel more confident in your Spanish. I just wasn’t expecting you to say black beans. ”

Shaking your head with a laugh, it’s a relief to know he wasn’t picking on you. You feel brave enough to shove him in the upper arm, deciding to use a term that Vanessa throws around a lot. “Yeah, well, you didn’t have to put me on the spot like that, cabrón. ”

He laughs even harder for a moment. Then a sudden look of realization washes over his face, and his brow furrows. “I just remembered. You never did tell me what you do for a living.”

There it is. He slipped it in so perfectly after your guard had fallen so far down.You nearly choke on the next hit of the dab pen, sputtering as you let the vapor leave your lungs and hand it over to Harry once more. 

Recovering, you try your best to smile and act as if that had simply been a cough. “Well,” you begin, prolonging the inevitable even more, “I’m a little embarrassed to admit that I’m a college dropout with no degree from a poor family. School wasn’t for me. Couldn’t afford it and didn’t apply myself so I stopped before I put myself in debt for no reason. After that I moved here to become an actress. That was a little over a decade ago. Acting didn’t work out, but that was never really my dream. This city was my true dream, and that part did work out eventually.”

He hits the pen twice more and hands it back, his handsome voice taking on a serious tone. “I don’t care if you have a college degree. Life is what teaches us how to live, not some expensive school. I was fortunate to have the money for that kind of an education, but ultimately my path was picked out for me regardless of my schooling. I learned how to do what I do by spending summers working as my mother’s assistant. Whatever you do, you don’t need to feel embarrassed about it.”

“Ha,” you scoff, looking away from him momentarily. “I usually don’t. In front of you, I do. You’re a little intimidating, Harry.”

Harry frowns, most likely at your continued reluctance to tell him. “Sorry, I don’t mean to pry so much. You really do intrigue me, that’s all.”

With a wave of the hand you try to brush that statement off. But inside you’re screaming with joy that a man of his caliber is saying things like that to you. “I’m really not that interesting.”

“Now that’s simply not true. Because girls like you don’t come to things like this. Your jewelry, for example.” Harry reaches his right hand towards the left side of your face, his thick index finger hooking behind your dangling earring. His eyes cast down at it for a long moment, and the most adorable little grin finds his lips. “I’ve never met a girl who wears bat earrings before. Especially not in the dead of summer, to an event like this. But it’s tasteful, and it fits your look very well.”

With a shrug, your left hand lifts to graze his wrist. “You can’t blame an ex-goth for hanging on to her old aesthetic a little bit, can you?”

Harry surprises you then by grabbing your fingers, bringing them up to meet his lips, kissing the matching ring. “That, I cannot.”

He nods thoughtfully, holding your hand close to his mouth. Close enough you can feel his warm breath. “You seem to have money despite your background. More so than your friend. The way you carry yourself suggests that this is a recent development in your life. I’m old money. New money is easy enough to sniff out when you’ve been stuck around these people your whole life. Maybe only a year or so for your financial success?”

“About two,” you blurt out, hand darting out of his grasp, flying to your lips. 

You stupid stupid bitch! Shut UP!

You’ve already said far too much to this man and if you’re not careful you could ruin what is turning out to be a beautiful evening. Normally you’re not shy about your profession. You’ve told plenty of the men and women you’ve casually dated over the last two years. You’re not ashamed of what you do when you’re talking to someone on your level, but you’ve never even been close to these kinds of people before tonight. 

To put it plainly, you simply enjoy expensive things because you had to grow up wanting for so much and having so little. Somehow you managed to find a job you genuinely enjoy, which allows for you to have the money to afford the life of casual luxury you always wished for. That doesn’t mean you look to surround yourself with other wealthy people. Most of your friends are still starving artists much like Vanessa. The fact that he called himself ‘old money’ just now is proof enough that he was born on a different plane of existence. 

Harry Castillo is so incredibly far above you on the food chain when it comes to New York City’s elite. He could chew you up and spit you out if you let him. Someone of his social stature could never know the truth about what you do and look at you the same way. You’re certain of it. 

If he knew that this time last night, instead of a designer dress, all you had on your body, or in your body rather, was a jeweled plug and a ring gag. If he knew there had been a weighted chain connected to both of your expertly hidden nipple piercings. If he knew that while you facefucked yourself with a pretty pink dildo, a much older and much less attractive man than Harry was fucking himself with a fleshlight to it on the other side of the video feed. If he knew that right after the session you used your wand to give yourself a quiet, grunting orgasm as your well earned treat after faking a big loud one for your client… If he knew any of that , Harry Castillo may not think you’re as beautiful and intriguing as he does right now. 

But he does think you’re beautiful and intriguing right now. He said so himself. And you haven’t said anything that could ruin your chances with him yet. So you scramble to think of something to say, and finally an idea comes to mind.

“I’m sorry I’m being so cagey about telling you. It’s just not something I like to discuss with someone I’ve only just met. I’m…,” your brain scrambles again, a split second of doubt stopping you from lying. But then the loosened inhibitions from the alcohol and smoke make you blurt out the only lie that makes any sense, and the decision is made. 

“An author!”

It’s not a total lie. While you haven’t completed anything novel-length yet, a handful of your short stories have been featured in a few fetish zines and smut compilations. Real, published ones. You never see any real money from those ventures, but it still counts. Your Ao3 account has about twenty-five contributions. All you ever read is smutty romance. This is a subject you know enough about to craft a believable fib around it. Guilty as that makes you feel, given that this is the most you’ve liked someone new in a hot minute. 

But, Harry Castillo comes off like a man you’ll never see again after tonight. So what’s a little white lie going to hurt in the grand scheme of things? The two of you are from completely different worlds. One night with a man like him is a blessing. Any more nights? That's asking for trouble.

His eyes light up at your not-true confession, lips spreading across his face in a wide, handsome grin. 

Oh no. Perhaps you’ve been in trouble from the very start.

Harry’s so enthusiastic as he exclaims, “You have to let me read your work!”

You’re blushing, and sweating a bit. “Oh, that’s kind of you but I’m sure what I write is not your speed whatsoever.”

Harry’s firm on this, shaking his head once. “I insist. I’m going to look you up as soon as I go home.”

Is this man fucking real? There’s no way he exists in this realm. 

“You won’t find me,” you say abruptly, quickly adding, “I use a pseudonym!”

He leans in, hovering close to your face as he pouts that damned lower lip ever so slightly. “Tell me your pseudonym? Please ?”

Your pulse quickens, palms moistening as you shake your head again. “I’d rather not, Harry.”

“Why? Do I make you nervous? I’m sure you’re a fine writer, and I’d like to see for myself.” Those big brown eyes are pleading with you, and it’s almost too much entirely. “At least tell me what genre you write in.”

“Uh, romance mostly,” you blurt out. “Like I said, not your speed.”

He shocks you when a bashful look crosses his features. “Actually, and please don’t out me for this, my guilty pleasure is romance. A night in with a bottle of wine and a steamy book or a sappy movie? Ideal. Please, let me read your work?”

Deflecting, you say, “My work is a little more intense than your mainstream romance. Steamy doesn’t even cut it.”

But Harry’s once again surprising you with his reaction. “Oh, really? You write erotica? Fascinating! Now I really must read something of yours.”

Your voice nearly waivers, but you hold fast. “ No , Harry.”

“Why not? Is it me?” Harry’s face falls, disappointment written all over him. A kind of shyness and vulnerability finds his voice, you’re certain of it.

You’re frowning, and for a split second you consider backtracking and telling him the truth. He really does seem to like you, and perhaps there’s a chance he would understand. But are you brave enough to take that chance? 

No, evidently you’re a coward. 

Fuck me, you think. And since you’d love for this night to end with Harry Castillo doing just that, you decide to speak from the heart as much as you can without revealing too much. The web of lies you’ve begun to weave is already starting to stress you out a little, so you take another decent puff on the dab pen and stick it back in your purse. 

“It is you, but not because I don’t like you. It’s because that is a very personal part of me,” you say. Not a complete lie. Okay, good. Keep going. “The smut I write comes from my real deepest darkest desires.” Worried that what you just said sounds sketchy, you quickly recover by adding, “Kinky, but nothing worrisome. My stories are not just about sex, they’re about the love between the characters. Those bonds are sacred, fictional representations of what I eventually want for myself with a real partner. Forgive me if I don’t feel comfortable sharing that with you when I don’t know you very well and I certainly don’t know if I can trust you. Perhaps if I got to know you better I would eventually let you read my work. But as of right now I reserve the right to deny you access. That part of my life is very private, and the small amount of success I see from it allows me to afford the lifestyle I want to live. So it’s important that my two worlds don’t collide. My parents don’t even know. Neither does my sister and she thinks I tell her everything. They all think I gave up acting to do clerical work for a law firm that happens to pay really well.”

Harry stares at you for a long time, but then his furrowed brow softens and he nods. A little smile creeps onto his lips, and the distance between you feels lessened all of the sudden. 

“You know,” he begins, a hand reaching up to move a curl from your eyes, the tips of his fingers finding your cheek, “that’s extremely fair. More than fair, actually. If you let me see you again after tonight I think I’ll make it my life’s work to earn that trust from you.”

Your breath hitches at such a forward statement, and you worry that you’re in much deeper shit than you meant to get yourself into. So much for never seeing him again after this.       

Attempting to deflect again, you tell him, “Just know that’s not an easy task. A lot of walls to break down and all that.” As you say this, he's leaning forward even more.

His lips are hovering just an inch or so above yours. “I have walls of my own, you know. Everyone does. Totally normal.”

Just as your lips graze his ever so lightly, a huge uproar from inside the venue causes you both to jump apart in surprise. Then some dramatic strings begin to play, followed by the beat of a hiphop style track.  

You shriek . Shrill and unforgiving. Harry winces at the sound of it. Without thinking, you grab Harry’s hand and begin yanking him towards the big glass doors you came out from. 

“Oh my god, oh my god, oh my god! Oh my fucking GOD! Vanessa wasn’t making this up!”

*****

“Is that the secret musical guest?” Harry asks, brow to his hairline in surprise as he lets you pull him easily. He can’t quite make out the song, but people seem to be going crazy inside for whoever it is. Then he squints, as if that will help him to hear better, and that’s when Harry realizes that your pen made him much higher than he usually gets when he partakes in the indulgence of marijuana. The three drinks, not including the one he had before he ran into you, aren’t assisting him to feel very sober now either. His senses are on a bit of an overload, but it feels good at the same time. Then a familiar set of music notes hits his eardrum, and a deep male voice sings the word dime in Spanish twice and his jaw drops a little. “Wait. Is that… Bad Bunny? ”

The wild look you throw back at Harry is absolutely adorable. This is clearly the reason you came to this event in the first place, and suddenly your presence here makes a little more sense to him.

“It IS! Holy fuck I am going to lose my MIND. Please come dance with me, Harry. I like you and I want to experience this with you,” you plead back at him with a soft and genuine expression that melts every single part of Harry Castillo into a helpless goo.

As if he was going to choose to be anywhere else tonight after meeting you. 

Your hand makes it to the doorknob, and as soon as you’ve pushed it open the cacophony from within is nearly too much. The screams from the crowd are more deafening than the music itself. The houselights have gone down and there’s a frenzy of new multicolored lights strobing Harry’s vision. It feels as if the two of you walked back inside to a completely separate event and Harry, for lack of a better term, feels high as balls. 

Harry has to really focus on raising his loud enough voice to tell you, “Wow, I can’t believe the guest is someone I actually listen to!” 

You turn to him, adorably wide-eyed as you yell back, “You like him too?!”

Harry nods, deciding that it’s time to be a gentleman and take the lead through the suddenly dense crowd. He switches things so that his hand is the one more in control of your now linked fingers, nodding down at you as he moves past and starts to lead you instead. “I do! One of my favorites!”

“I would have never guessed that in a million years!” You shout, expression dumbfounded. He frowns at you a little, mildly self conscious as he shouts back, “Why? Because I’m old?”

Harry feels relieved when that question seems to surprise you, and he loves the way you roll your eyes at him in a bratty sort of way, raising your voice to tell him, “You’re old-er, not old! And no, because you’re a fancy rich guy and this is not the kind of music fancy rich people listen to.”

“There’s more to me than meets the eye. And the pocketbook, for that matter,” Harry says, willing you to feel how true that statement is for him.

“Me too,” you concede, face softening.

The two of you lock eyes for a long moment, and Harry feels this swelling in his chest he’s never felt before. The pressure of it is nearly painful, but then it morphs into something else entirely as it unfurls through his being like a warm drink on a cold day spreading through his belly. He really must be more intoxicated than he realized.

What the hell was that?

*****

Harry leads you into the main room of the event space, and the crowd is literally losing their minds over the man sauntering across the stage with a microphone in his hand. As he spouts off lyrics in Spanish and the crowd joins in enthusiastically, a grin spreads across the musician’s handsome features. His stylish outfit is impeccable and his curly hair looks so soft, even at a distance. He’s more attractive in real life than you could have anticipated from pictures and music videos. But even still, he doesn’t hold a candle to the suave gentleman whose fingers are laced with yours. You’d thought Bad Bunny was going to be the one and only man holding your attention tonight, even back when it was still a huge possibility that Van was full of shit. 

You hadn’t accounted for meeting Harry Castillo. 

“Oh, fuck ,” you say to yourself, but loud enough for Harry to hear over all the noise. “I can’t believe it’s really Benito! This is not how I expected my day to go when I got up this morning!”

“Those are always the best days,” Harry responds, grinning as he yanks you forward more. “Do you want me to get you all the way down to the front? I’ll stay with you and keep you safe.”

“Please stay with me,” you agree, still marveling at the fact that there’s a man here who’s captivated your attention far more than the musician you came here to see. 

Harry nods once and tightens his grip on your hand, starting to strongly push his way through the crowd onto the main dance floor. It’s such a contrast to how this place looked an hour ago, and seeing all of these stuffy people in fine clothing bump and grind is a sight you didn’t think you’d ever see. The energy feels like that of the raves you used to attend as a younger woman. 

It takes a few moments, but eventually Harry’s able to shove his way through the various groups and couples and you’re right up in front of the small stage. A flash of familiar light pink to your right catches your attention, and you see Vanessa and Charles dancing together just beside you. Harry must have brought you to her on purpose. Good thing he’s tall enough to see over the crowd, because you never would have spotted her. 

When Vanessa notices you, she lets go of Charles and flings herself into your arms with a girly, high-pitched squeal of delight. 

“Thank you, bitch!” You scream to her, grinning like a madwoman.

“You’re welcome, bitch!” She screams back, and then, at no surprise to you at all, she presses her lips to yours in a quick but heated kiss. Her lips massage yours, uncaring if lipstick gets misplaced along the way. Just as your tongue flicks along the tip of hers, she breaks apart from you with a wink and a grin. You give her a disappointed little huff for ending that so quickly. 

When you both notice Harry and Charles staring at the two of you with slack-jawed expressions, you and Vanessa both burst out into laughter. It’s all barely audible over the concert. The men lock eyes for a moment and then share a quick shrug of confused comradery, and at that moment Vanessa flings herself back into Charles’ arms. She’s definitely drunk, because drunk Vanessa’s favorite thing in the world is kissing. And she’s already got her tongue buried so deeply in Charles’ mouth that you’re sure word of their confirmed relationship will have spread around to all of their coworkers by morning. So much for secrets. 

With a shake of the head you’re facing Harry again, and he’s looking down at you with lust in those inviting chocolate eyes of his. 

Slightly dilated pupils land on your lips for a moment, and his tongue darts out from between his teeth to wet his own a little as he lifts his hand to his own face. When his tongue appears again not a moment later, this time to run slowly over the pad of his thumb, a distinct and familiar throbbing heats up between your legs. All at once you’re desperate to feel that tongue run slowly over your aching, needy nub.

Harry’s palm finds your cheek, and he swabs his moist thumb just below the corner of your mouth. You just knew some of Van’s pink lipstick had smeared onto you, which is surely in contrast to your own dark red lip liner look. As he wipes it away, you can’t help but think that if you were in a different setting you’d have half a mind to draw the appendage between your lips and show him just exactly what your intentions are with a move far too sultry for a public place. 

You realize that you’re the one staring at his lips now, licking your own in anticipation. Once Harry’s finished ridding you of the unwanted lipstick, you nod at him in an attempt to give your silent approval if he truly wants to kiss you. A great thrill runs through you when he leans down and presses his lips to yours in response.

Finally , you think blissfully as your eyes close and your hands immediately find the lapel of his suit jacket, clinging to him for dear life. He tastes of whiskey and your dab pen, and his lips are so incredibly soft and inviting as you brazenly deepen the kiss with your own parting mouth. He lets you do it easily, and you’re so desperate to feel his warm tongue touch you anywhere if you can’t feel it touch you there .

His other hand flies to your waist, fingers gripping into the fabric of your dress. The two of you stay like that for a long moment, but then suddenly Harry is breaking the kiss, spinning you around to face forward towards the stage. His mouth is against your ear, “You came here to see him, so watch him. You can have plenty of me later. If you want me, of course.”

“I want you,” you breathe honestly, relishing in the truth of it. You feel his nose brush your bare shoulder, mustache tickling you before he presses a chaste kiss to the exposed flesh. 

Harry’s hips find yours from behind, and his hands find generous amounts of your body to hold on to as the music really starts to flow through both of you. Song after song you and Harry move in sync. 

Occasionally Vanessa comes back over and the two of you share a moment of joyful hip grinding, hands and lips briefly all over each other before she goes back to Charles. That only seems to rile your own dance partner up more.

Sometimes, much to your surprise when you first hear it, Harry dips his head in and you feel the rumble of him singing along to the lyrics as he presses into you. He hadn’t been full of shit when he said that this was music he actually listens to.

When Bad Bunny is halfway through HIBIKI , Harry has the audacity to sing the line “ b aby, te lo meto si me das permiso” which you know roughly translates to “baby, I'll give it to you if you give me permission.” The song itself is sexy sounding but angsty in content, and yet even still Harry is somehow masterfully using the promiscuous lyrics to his advantage. This man knows exactly what he’s doing. With his hot mouth up against your right lobe and what you’re sure is the beginnings of a hard on pressing just below the small of your back, you’re certain you’ve never wanted to fuck someone so bad in your entire life. 

Then a line later, you can feel him slip the hairpin holding your bun from your head, and your hair falls down over your shoulders in a cascade of waves.

Harry’s hand moves the tresses off your right shoulder and his voice is in your ear, singing, “Jalarte po' el pelo, despeinarte toda, después te doy chavo pal′ beauticion.” With that he very gently tugs on the locks once, before running his fingers up under your hair to massage the back of your head. As Harry sings the next line after that, his other hand slyly slinks around to bunch up the fabric of your skirt and you feel his warm hand grazing your inner thigh. “En ese totito cabe perfecto mi bicho.”

Pull your hair, mess it up, then I'll give you money for a beautician. That little pussy fits my dick perfectly.

Thank god the venue is so loud that you’re probably actively getting hearing damage, because otherwise the moan which escapes your mouth would have probably drawn attention to the increasingly inappropriate dancing going on between you and Harry Castillo. A quick glance around the pit suggests that nearly everyone seems to be dancing like that, some not holding back whatsoever, and so you suppose what you and Harry are doing probably looks tame. 

But it doesn’t feel tame. It feels like he’s tapped into that deeper part of you and you’re ready to let her out. 

Mercifully or tragically, you’re not sure which, the music switches over from hip-grinding hiphop to hip-swaying salsa, and Harry’s grip on you eases up. Your skirt drops back down just past your knees and the spot where his hand was feels empty. Wishing to see his face again, you spin around in his arms so that his hands are practically cupping your ass. 

You’re tired of shouting, so with hands on his broad shoulders you’re lifting up on your tiptoes to speak directly into his ear.

“Do you know how to salsa?” You ask.

He shakes his head, causing his earlobe to graze your lip. Then he’s brushing your hair to the side to speak in your ear again, “A little when I was a kid, but not really. I’d love to take lessons if I had a good dance partner.”

 “I would too,” you agree, looking over where Vanessa and Charles are doing the moves perfectly. “Those two make me so fucking jealous, but don’t tell her I said that.”

“So I don’t have to worry about her stealing you away tonight?”

“Nah, Van is a very lovey dovey drunk and I am her very willing and bisexual best friend. Usually we’re out at a club when she’s like that and I’d rather have her kiss me than some skeezey dude who might want to roofie her drink. That’s her boyfriend, Charles, she’s dancing with. So I’m off the hook tonight.”

“Mm, good,” Harry breathes, smirking as his eyes flick down to your lips. “More for me, then.”

*****

A few songs and an encore later, your favorite musician is gone as quickly as he appeared, and the surrealness of the last nearly hour and a half washes over you just as the houselights wash over the dissipating crowd. You’re covered in sweat and so horny you’re sure you’re going to burst. Harry hasn’t left your side since the moment the two of you locked eyes at the bar, and after feeling him grind into you like that for so long you’re determined not to leave his side until you’ve been satiated. This man has you so feral for him that you’re not even processing the fact that you just got to see your dream musical performance. 

He’s ditched his suit jacket, keeping it flung over one shoulder as he guides you away from the stage with a hand on your moist back. Vanessa and Charles are following close behind, attempting to keep their hands to themselves now that their coworkers can see them. You’re dying to tell her that ship has already sailed, but they can figure that out for themselves.

“I can’t believe that just happened,” you marvel, ears ringing in the quiet left behind from the show. 

Harry smiles at you fondly, “I’m glad I didn’t leave when I was going to. That was great, and I’m grateful I got to experience it with you.”

“Me too,” you agree, blushing a little from the genuineness of Harry’s tone. “So tell me how you got into him, because I am dying to know. You really knew your shit out there.”

Harry shrugs,  “My brother’s about your age and he’s obsessed. We did a week in Mexico for his bachelor party last year and he played Bad Bunny nonstop. After that I was hooked.”

“Mm, fair. Is your brother here?”

Harry grins wickedly, “No, he didn’t want to come. I cannot wait to rub it in his face when I head to the office on Monday.” Then he’s grabbing your hand to kiss the back of it. “Thank you for dancing with me.”

Seeing the older brother side of him for a moment strikes your heart with a little flare of something more than lust for this man. He’s wonderfully adorable. “You were an excellent partner, Harry. Did you enjoy being high for that?”

He nods, glancing at you almost knowingly. “It certainly enhanced things. It’s mostly worn off for me, though.”

A sly smile finds your lips. “I could use some more.” 

“You could use some water ,” Harry practically chides, though that smile he’s wearing for you doesn’t falter. “I’ll get you some, stay here.”

With that, he leaves you standing by a marble pillar as he slides up to the crowded bar. 

Vanessa moves in beside you, poking you in the cheek with a pink fingernail. Charles seems to have gone off to do his job. 

“Someone’s going to get laid for real tonight!”

“Shh! Keep your fucking voice down!” You hiss, mortified. What she said was vague enough that anyone within earshot would just assume you masturbate a lot or something, but that feeling of dread in your chest just sobered you up more than the dancing had.  “He doesn’t know about that.”

“Are you going to tell him?” She asks.

You shake your head grimly. “I told him I’m a smut author.”

Vanessa scoffs loudly. “Bitch your Ao3 does not fucking count.”

God, you could kill her just as much as you could kiss her sometimes. “It was the best I could come up with, Van. I’d like to see you come up with something better if you were in my position.”

She frowns, looking at you seriously. “If you see him again after tonight you need to come clean. He seems like a catch and he seems completely enamored with you. Maybe you can actually reel this one in.”

“He’s not a fish,” you say with an eye roll. 

“No, he’s a sexy rich man who’s exactly your type.”

“I don’t care that he’s rich, you know that.”

“But you do care that he’s devilishly handsome and older than you.” 

“Boy, do I,” you say dreamily as you watch him turn from the bar with three bottles of water. 

“He doesn’t have to be a sugar daddy to be a daddy.” Vanessa sends you her signature wink at that last statement. 

You shove her playfully. “That’s enough out of you. He’s on his way back. You and I will discuss this at home.”

“Aye aye, captain!” Vanessa says with a giggle and a salute, clearly still feeling her alcohol. Then her eyes widen as she looks over your shoulder and suddenly shouts, “But I’m going home with Charles, just so you know!”

Glaring sharply, you know exactly what she’s doing despite whisper-asking her, “What are you doing?!” 

“Getting him to take you home,” she whispers back. 

As if you needed help. 

“Did I hear that you need a ride?” Harry asks, handsome as ever as he looks down at you. He looks so good that it’s overwhelming, dark hair even darker now that it’s damp from dancing, the pink flush in his cheeks slowly starting to fade. His white dress shirt seems damp in a few places and he’s rolled his sleeves up to expose his toned forearms. Harry hands you and Vanessa a bottle of water before unscrewing the cap of his own and downing several gulps with his head turned slightly. There’s that beautiful side profile again.

Christ have mercy, how are you turned on by watching someone drink water? The way his lips are pursed against the bottle, the bob of his Adam's apple as the drink flows down his throat. The little flick of his tongue on the edge of the rim to catch that last stray drop. 

Fuck .

Vanessa elbows you, and you have to literally shake your head to dislodge from the stupor he just had you in. Words? What are those?

“Uh, yes, I was just going to grab a taxi,” you say, taking a generous sip of your own water while you recover. 

“I’ve already called for my driver to come pick me up. I’m happy to take you somewhere.” Harry offers generously.

You smirk. “I distinctly recall someone wanting to get greasy food after this.”

He grins. “I did say that, didn’t I?”

“You did.”

“I was really high, wasn’t I?”

“You were. But I liked it, and I’m craving a cheesesteak.”

“A cheesesteak it is, then.”

The two of you stand there, staring into each other’s eyes for a long moment, sharing a silent mutual agreement that the rest of the night is about to be shared in each other’s company. Though, as is the delicate dance between men and women, and despite how forward Harry had been with you on the dance floor, you’ll both still skirt around the subject until it actually happens. 

*****

Next

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Masterlist

[camficdiner]

i would like to request (1.1)(2.5 + “they pretend to hate each other” bonus trope)(3.5)(4.3) please and thank you!

☕️ cams fic diner — order 080

🍒 thank you: to the girl who asked for pretend to hate each other — I know this isn’t exactly that. but something in this story refused to play nice. it wanted rage. pain. legacy it wanted her back glowing, inked, and golden — and him wrecked by it. she’s not the Ice Angel anymore. and he never stopped burning for her.

Enjoy your meal love, i hope you like it

💬 “The Ice Never Forgot.”

✨ description & prompts:

character: jack hughes

prompt: you were once figure skating’s untouched golden girl — until you fell for jack hughes. when he cheated, you disappeared. now you’re back, and nothing is soft anymore.

type: exes • heartbreak • jealousy • rough hallway smut

wc: ~1.7k

✨🧁🍒🛼

You shouldn’t have come.

You told yourself this five times in the car — gripping your dress like it was armor, pressing your palms flat against the seat to stop the shaking. But when your friend passed you that last look — soft, excited, slightly drunk off the summer heat — you didn’t say no.

“It’s a party, babe. You need this. No press. No cameras. Just drinks, friends, music, maybe a cute guy to flirt with.”

She doesn’t know.

She doesn’t know he’ll be there.

She knows who you were — who you still are, technically. She knows about Jack. Knows that it ended badly. She’s seen the headlines. She held your hand while you cried into hotel pillows you didn’t remember booking. But she doesn’t know that the house you’re pulling up to now — soft lights, music spilling out, bodies lounging barefoot in white cotton and sweatshirts — is filled with the people who once felt like your family.

She doesn’t know that Jack Hughes is somewhere inside.

And you?

You don’t tell her.

You just say, “One drink,” as the car door opens.

And then you walk into the party.

You used to be called the Ice Angel.

Or sometimes, the Ice Doll — depending on which broadcast team wanted to sound more reverent, more romantic, more harmless.

Long hair, soft features, glide like silk, never touched, never tainted. You moved like you didn’t belong to gravity. You’d never shown a single crack on camera. Not until him.

Not until Jack Hughes.

You fell for him stupidly. Loudly. And when it ended, it ended with a silence that nearly destroyed you.

You disappeared.

Left the competitions. Stepped away from the season. Let the dress with the open back hang untouched. Took the skates off, put the medals in storage. Everyone thought you were training in private. No one knew you couldn’t even look at the rink.

And now?

Now you’re back. Not in the arena. Not yet.

But here.

At a party.

You walk into the party, and the music swells like it knows how much this moment costs you. Your friend squeezes your hand once and disappears toward the back patio, but you stay near the door for a beat too long. You don’t need to look around. You can already feel it — the scent of lakewater, the low hum of half-drunk conversation, the sweatshirts draped over tanned shoulders and the same boys you once considered family laughing somewhere in the back.

You used to move through rooms like you didn’t belong to them. That was the whole myth: the Ice Angel. The girl who glided, never walked. Skin like porcelain, long hair that caught the rink lights, a voice like silk and a spine of steel. You were everything they said you were — until you weren’t.

Until Jack.

Until you believed that a boy like him could hold you without melting you.

And now?

Now you’re no angel at all.

Your dress is fitted — not tight, but deliberate. It clings where it’s meant to, skims where it should, catching the golden hue of your skin in a way you would’ve once considered too soft, too human, too real. But you let the sun touch you now. You let yourself be seen. You’ve got tan lines peeking from under the straps of your dress, and a pair of fine black tattoos curling at the slope of your back — delicate at first glance, but sharp in their lines, permanent in a way few things in your life have ever been.

Your hair is shorter, darker now. Not so much platinum as it is summer-wheat, tousled and swept low into a knot at the nape of your neck, strands falling loose in a way that would have driven your old choreographer insane.

You don’t look like the girl Jack Hughes once loved.

You don’t look like someone who’d ever let him touch you again.

⸻

He sees you before you see him.

He’s leaning against the edge of the outdoor bar, bottle in hand, laughing easily with Cole and Quinn. He’s tanned too, in that careless, sunkissed kind of way that only boys who never had to fight for beauty can wear. There’s music playing, lazy and bass-heavy, the last slide of a perfect July. He’s half-listening to whatever Quinn’s saying, half-watching the back door, the horizon, the slow tilt of someone’s shoulders — and then he sees you.

And Jack Hughes forgets how to stand.

He doesn’t say anything. Doesn’t blink. Just goes still, like something inside him has buckled under the weight of your name.

He sees the dress first. The way it hugs the shape of your waist, the exposed skin at your back, the ink where there used to be none. He sees your legs, bare and golden. He sees the edge of a smile when you catch your friend’s joke. And then he sees your face — the shape of your mouth, your chin tilted up, the lashes darker than he remembers, the new curve of your jaw — and something in his chest shatters.

Jack has imagined this moment more times than he’ll admit. He’s thought about what he’d say, how he’d act if you ever walked back into the same room as him. Sometimes he sees you crying. Sometimes screaming. Sometimes pulling him into a kiss that doesn’t forgive but forgets, just for a second. But he never imagined this.

He never imagined you’d walk in like this: glowing. Quiet. Dressed like a secret. Tanned like you’d been letting the world touch you. Tattooed like you’d chosen permanence without him.

You don’t look broken.

You look like you made peace with the burn.

And that’s what undoes him.

That’s what turns his grin slack and makes Quinn glance at him twice before asking, quietly, “Is that…?”

Jack doesn’t answer.

Cole leans in, follows his gaze. “Holy shit. Is that her?”

Jack swallows.

Hard.

And you?

You finally turn.

Not toward the bar. Not toward him.

You’re just scanning the house, glass of wine now in hand, expression as unreadable as it used to be between the six-minute warmup and the Olympic short program. You’re barely even trying to see him — and somehow that makes it worse.

But when your eyes do land on him?

There’s no flinch. No shock. No smile.

You just look.

One long, flat glance across the space that once knew both your bodies — and you nod. Barely.

Not an acknowledgment.

A boundary.

Then you turn away.

And Jack?

Jack grips the edge of the bar like he needs something to stop him from going after you.

⸻

The windows are open. The lake is quiet now, soft wind slipping in with the scent of wildflowers and pine. The music is lower — someone switched from party beats to a curated indie playlist, all subtle basslines and melancholy vocals. People are slouched into couches, sitting on the floor, curled into corners with half-drunk beers. It’s the tail end of a perfect party.

Which is exactly when Trevor claps his hands together and grins like a devil.

“Truth or Dare.”

It’s not even a suggestion. It’s a declaration.

You glance up from the corner armchair where you’ve been quietly watching. You’re tucked into the deep cushions, legs crossed at the knee, one heel swinging idly in the air. You look comfortable. Composed. Almost too elegant for the room you’re in.

You haven’t spoken to Jack since that first glance.

You haven’t needed to.

Trevor’s voice cuts back in, light and obnoxious:

“C’mon, this group’s too repressed for its own good. Let’s air it out a little.”

Cole immediately groans. “You’re drunk.”

Trevor shrugs. “And I’m right.”

He starts calling people out. The game begins.

It’s stupid at first — tame, low-stakes nonsense. Quinn gets asked if he’s ever lied to a fan. Luke has to prank text his ex. Jack takes a dare and has to take a shot off Cole’s stomach, which makes the room explode with laughter.

You sip your wine.

You haven’t been called on yet, and you don’t mind. You’re too busy watching from behind your lashes, legs still crossed, another fine little tattoo glinting at the edge of your thigh, just under the hem of your dress — one no one remembers being there before. Sharp lines. Soft curves. A secret.

Then someone says your name.

“Alright, Ice Doll.” A guy from Jack’s circle — you don’t remember his name. “Your turn.”

You blink once.

Tilt your head slightly.

He grins, mock-casual. “Truth: how does it feel to be back?”

A beat of silence falls.

You let your wine swirl in the glass for a moment, eyes flicking across the room, registering the way a few people hold their breath. Even Trevor looks up now, blinking like he didn’t expect it to get that direct this fast.

But you just smile.

“Like returning to a city after the war.”

“Some buildings still stand. Most don’t.”

“But I’ve never liked ruins anyway.”

The room goes very still.

And Jack?

Jack stares at you like you’ve punched the air out of his lungs.

You take another sip.

Someone exhales a low, “Damn.”

The game keeps moving. Barely.

Then it’s Jack’s turn.

He doesn’t hesitate. Doesn’t joke.

He turns to you.

“Truth or Dare?”

Your smile stays put.

But your grip on the glass shifts slightly.

“Truth.”

He nods.

Quiet. Calculated.

“That guy,” he says, voice even. “The one from last spring.”

“Did you love him?”

The question cuts like a razor. Not because it’s loud. Not because it’s raw. But because he says it like it still matters. Like he deserves to ask. Like he didn’t give you every reason to run in the first place.

You don’t flinch.

You place your glass down.

Straighten just a little.

“We hooked up,” you say, voice sharp as a skate blade. “It lasted a month. It wasn’t love.”

Jack nods again, but there’s something cracked in the way he looks down at his hands after.

You tilt your head.

“My turn.”

“Truth or Dare?”

He looks up, still calm.

“Truth.”

You hold his gaze for a long, long second. Every muscle in the room tenses. You can feel it — the sudden absence of laughter, the collective breath being held, the way even Trevor shifts uncomfortably beside you.

Then, you speak.

“How does it feel to cheat on?”

Jack doesn’t answer at first.

He doesn’t laugh.

Doesn’t blink.

He just stares at you — not with anger, not even with shame. Just silence. Raw, undressed silence. Like the words took something out of him he didn’t expect to lose in public.

Someone coughs.

Luke mutters something like, “Game over.”

Trevor runs a hand through his hair.

But you?

You don’t move.

You don’t apologize.

You cross your legs the other way.

Pick your wine back up.

And say, “Next.”

⸻

The room thins out fast after your question.

People murmur something about drinks or fresh air or going to check the fire pit. Trevor laughs too loud, too forced. Luke disappears into the kitchen with Quinn, who glances back at Jack once before turning away.

You don’t move.

You sit still, glass empty now, fingers tight around the stem. You keep your eyes on the window like the lake outside has answers you haven’t been able to find in a year.

Jack doesn’t follow the others.

He doesn’t even pretend.

He walks straight to where you sit and stops two feet from the armchair, fists clenched at his sides.

You stand up before he can speak.

And then — finally — you let yourself break.

“You don’t get to ask that,” you hiss. “You don’t get to look at me like I did something wrong by fucking someone after you cheated on me.”

His jaw tightens. “That’s not—”

“Don’t. Don’t even try to deny it, Jack.”

He takes a step forward.

You step back.

“You think just because I showed up tonight, you get access to me again?” Your voice is rising, hot and full and real now. “You think I wore this dress for you?”

“I didn’t say that.”

“No, but you looked at me like you own me.”

Jack’s breathing hard now.

So are you.

“Say it,” you snap. “Say what you’ve been choking on since I walked in.”

He doesn’t.

So you do.

“You couldn’t handle being the hockey player who dated the Ice Angel. You hated how careful I was, how clean, how fucking sacred people thought I was. You wanted something messier. You wanted something easier.”

He flinches.

“So you found it,” you spit. “And I let you go. I disappeared so you wouldn’t have to deal with it. And you didn’t even chase me.”

Jack moves.

Quick.

You barely have time to react before your back hits the wall behind you and his hands are gripping your wrists, not hard, not painful — just enough to make you listen.

“I didn’t chase you,” he growls, “because I thought I didn’t deserve to.”

Your breath catches.

He leans in, furious now, his voice low and broken.

“You think I wanted easy? You think I wanted to be the guy who fucked it all up? I’ve lived in hell since the day you left.”

You try to twist out of his grip, but he presses closer.

“I didn’t look at you like I own you,” he breathes. “I looked at you like I’d never get to touch you again.”

You stop struggling.

“And then you said you fucked someone else, and I lost it.”

Silence.

Just breathing.

His eyes flick over your face.

“Say you don’t want me,” he whispers. “Say it, and I’ll walk away.”

You can’t.

You don’t.

And he snaps.

⸻

He kisses you like he’s starving — like a year without your mouth made him something less than human. His tongue slides against yours, hot and demanding, teeth catching on your bottom lip. His hands drag your dress up in one smooth movement, fingers finding your thighs like a man claiming lost ground.

“Fucking mine,” he growls into your mouth.

You moan — not soft, not sweet, just wrecked.

You barely notice how close the hallway is to the party, how thin the walls are, how close the kitchen is. You only know that Jack is everywhere. Pressed between your legs, shoving his hand under your panties, sinking two fingers into you so fast you cry out against his chest.

“God, you’re soaked,” he snarls. “This for him? That guy from last spring?”

You shake your head, panting.

“Say it.”

You look at him, dazed.

“Say you never came for him the way you did for me.”

Your voice is cracked, low.

“No one ever touched me like you did.”

Jack yanks your panties to the side, unzips with one hand, and thrusts inside in one brutal motion.

You gasp, your head hitting the wall.

“Fucking—Jack—”

He groans into your neck, hips snapping into yours, the hallway too narrow to absorb the sounds — the slap of skin, the stifled cries, the moans that sound too much like begging.

His hand clamps over your mouth.

“Shut up,” he growls. “You want them to hear how much you missed me?”

You don’t care.

You clench around him, and he curses — thrusts harder — loses rhythm.

You’re clawing at his back now, nails dragging, dress hiked up around your waist. Your orgasm crashes fast — hard — body jerking against his, soaking his fingers where they still press against your clit.

“That’s it,” he hisses. “Come for me. Come on my cock.”

You do.

You fall apart, trembling, tears in your eyes.

He follows with a low moan, biting your shoulder to muffle it, hips jerking as he fills you, grinding so deep you swear he’s trying to live there.

When it’s over, he doesn’t let go right away.

He just holds you, breath heavy, his face buried in your neck.

Then, quietly:

“I never stopped wanting you.”

You don’t say anything.

Not yet.

But your fingers curl into his shirt.

You don’t push him away.

It’s not love. Not yet.

But it’s not hate anymore, either.

⸻

You’re lying on your side in one of the guest bedrooms, dress pushed halfway off your legs, your skin still flushed from everything he took from you in the hallway — and everything you gave back. The door is locked now. The house is quiet. Somewhere, someone’s still playing music. But here, in this room, it’s just the slow, steady rhythm of breath and heat cooling from your skin.

Jack sits behind you, one hand tracing over the top of your thigh.

Neither of you has said anything for a while.

His fingers drift higher, brushing over the ink just under your ribcage — delicate, black, sharp-edged. A line of thorns, maybe. Or wings. You don’t tell him. You never told anyone.

“This new?” he asks softly.

You nod, eyes still fixed on the wall.

“You got it after?”

“Yeah.”

Jack’s thumb grazes the edge of it, like he’s trying to memorize it without asking what it means. His voice is quieter now. No bite. Just that low rasp he only used to use when he kissed you goodnight.

“You looked different tonight.”

You glance over your shoulder. “And you looked the same.”

That makes him smile — just for a second.

You sit up, slipping the straps of your dress back over your shoulder. Jack reaches out like he wants to stop you. Not to undress you again. Just to pause you. To keep you here a little longer.

“Why’d you come tonight?” he asks, and it’s not accusing. It’s honest. It’s afraid.

You don’t answer right away.

Then, quietly:

“I wanted to see if you’d changed.”

Jack nods once.

Then, softer:

“Did I?”

You look at him.

His hair is a mess. His mouth is still red. His hands are still resting on your legs like he’s trying not to hold too tight — like he knows he doesn’t get to own this anymore.

“No,” you say.

And then, “But I did.”

Jack leans back against the headboard, eyes closed.

“Yeah. I noticed.”

He doesn’t ask to stay. You don’t ask him to leave.

Eventually, you fall asleep with his arm draped across your waist and his fingers curled in the hem of your dress like a thread he can’t stop pulling.

[lilhughesy]

Omg! I love your writing! You write Conrad so perfectly. Can I please request one with Conrad Fisher where the reader and Conrad are best friends but everyone knows that they love each other because they’re always touchy and affectionate with each other. They even have cute nicknames for each other and everyone else just wants them to get together already. Your blog is amazing ❤️✨

orange bikini, the marina, and ray bands | c.fisher x reader

a/n: thank you so much for the request love! i had a lot of fun writing it, i hope you enjoy <3

warnings: fluff

—

summers were always unforgettable. maybe because you got to spend every moment of it with your best friends. as a local in cousins, you watched different families come and go every summer — only a few of them being regular summer visitors. for example, the fisher and conklin families.

susannah fisher was such a bright light to the lives of the locals, bringing charity events to cousins every summer along with invested a lot of money into the country club. as for her sons, they were just like her. both conrad and jeremiah were bundles of sunshine, like a warm hug, or maybe a refreshing glass of lemonade on a hot summers day.

i had immediately bonded with conrad when i first met him when i was eight and he was ten. we met at the beach and instantly clicked. i soon was introduced to his younger brother, jeremiah, and two family friends, belly and steven. although i spent just as much time with the rest of them as i did with conrad, somehow him and i were always the closest.

despite the small age gap between us, we were like two peas in a pod.

i always looked forward to june since it indicated the start of summer, when my best friends return back to their summer home. i do have close friends here at cousins who are also locals, but the conklin and fisher siblings bring a new sort of fun to my life.

now that i’m sixteen, i stand at the marina dock, working alongside my friend cam. we both got internships with the marine biology department for the summer. i was laughing as cameron shook his brunette curls dry from water from the dive we just came back from. the droplets of water landing on me and my orange bikini.

“cameron!” i squeal, pushing him away, “i swear to god i’ll throw you off this deck if you continue to shower me”

he laughs as he steals my beach towel to dry himself, “you know you love it.”

i roll my eyes before they land on a very familiar red jeep wrangler that parks by the dock. i lift my ray bands off the bridge of my nose and place them on top of my head, i squint harder to see if it was who i thought it was. as the driver door opens, my favourite 6’2 dirty blonde boy steps out — conrad fisher.

he sees me staring at him while standing in just my bikini before a large smile paints across his face. i don’t even notice jeremiah stepping out from the passenger seat as i start running sprinting towards conrad.

he meets me halfway, where the dock began. “oh my god!” i exclaim as i jump into his muscular football player arms. my arms wrap around his neck and legs around his waist as i hug him tightly. he smells like sea salt, coconut sunscreen, and a hint of weed.

conrad has his arms holding my torso as he spins us in circles, “hey beautiful, did you miss me?”

“more than anything” i tell him, lifting my head from the crook of his neck, “you know, nine months is too long to be away from you”

“you say that every year, sunshine” he chuckles, carefully placing me back onto my birkenstock covered feet. his green eyes flicker from my sunkissed face to my chest for a split second.

i feel myself blush at it. he’s grown up a lot since i last saw him in august. his shoulders are broader, his biceps are larger, and his hair is longer. i smile sweetly at him, “because it never changes.”

“alright that’s enough from you two lovebirds. you look great in orange, y/n!” jeremiah compliments me as he pulls me into a squeeze hug, “how are you?”

i hug him tightly, “i’m doing great! cameron and i have been busy since school ended with this marine biology internship — but we get to be by the ocean all day so i’m not complaining!”

jeremiah grind his infamous smile, “sounds like fun! you know, steven and i are working at the country club this summer. time to make some bank!”

i giggle before pulling the brothers into a group hug, “ugh, i’m so happy you guys are finally back! when are belly and steven coming?”

“tomorrow afternoon,” conrad says as we all pull apart. i motion them to follow me down to the dock,

“i want you guys to meet one of my best friends,” i explain as cameron looks up at us and offers a smile, “this is cam, well, cameron. he just moved here last september and we’ve been hanging out since. you know, he’s just as interested in marine biology as i am!”

little did i know, cameron having his arm hanging around my neck ignited a small spark in conrad’s stomach at the sight. conrad gives a weak smile, meanwhile jeremiah daps cam up,

“what’s good, cam cameron! i’m jeremiah” he laughs, “you know, you’re making my brother conrad jealous right now. you have your hands on his future wife”

cam’s eyes go huge, “oh shit! are you two dating? y/n, you never told me you have a boyfriend! that’s my bad, bro.” he quickly apologizes and removes his arm from my shoulders.

“fuck off, jere” conrad says to his younger brother.

i smack jeremiah’s shoulder playfully, “i do not have a boyfriend, i don’t know why jere is making up bull”

“you mind as well be married at this point, considering the amount of hours you two spend texting each other.” jeremiah shrugs as he picks up my colourful printed backpack, “let’s head back to our place, cam you can come too”

cam thanks jeremiah but turns down the offer due to being needed back at his home. the two exchange instagrams so they can make plans later in the summer. with that, cameron runs off to his bike and waves us all goodbye.

conrad and my eyes meet and i can’t help but feel my heart rate pick up at the eye contact. i know i’ve always thought conrad was cute and was more drawn to him, but this felt a lot more different compared to the previous summers together.

i called shotgun as we all raced back to the wrangler, jeremiah pouting as he sits in the back seats. i plug my phone in for aux and start playing my new summer playlist that i just started making.

what once was by hers starts playing loudly from the car stereo as the windows are down and rooftop of the jeep was removed. the sweet summer breeze flowing through the car and our hairs as we all sing our hearts out. conrad has a hand on my knee, massaging it with his thumb while he drives. i try to surprise the butterflies and the heat rising to my cheeks at his actions.

as he parks the car at the familiar white summer home, we all jump out as conrad exclaims to race to the kitchen. he claims that whoever is last is getting thrown into the pool first.

the two fisher boys had an unfair advantage because of their longer legs, thus being able to take longer strides. we make it into the kitchen where susannah stands, smiling her golden smile,

“y/n! sweetheart, look at you!” she coos, pulling me into a warm embrace. she smells like roses and fresh laundry as i hold her tightly, she whispers into my ear, “so when are you and connie making it official? i know how you two feel about each other and he speaks of you so often at home.”

i flush at her comment but smile on response, “it’s so good to see you, susannah.”

she caresses my cheek, “i swear, you get more and more gorgeous every time i see you. plus, that orange bikini top looks absolutely fabulous on you.”

“i look just the same as last summer,” i laugh, “and the summers before that.”

she rolls her eyes playfully, “oh sweetie, don’t brush off my compliments. i mean it, you are glowing! don’t you think, connie?” she asks, looking over at her older son who already has a slight blush across his cheeks.

he smiles, “yeah, yeah you do.”

jeremiah grabs my wrist and pulls me away from his mom, “stop trying to avoid you fate, y/n! time to get thrown into the pool!” he grins, tugging me towards the sliding glass doors.

i squeal as the two both have grips on my arms as i try my best to free myself, “oh, come on! at least let me take off my shorts and ray bands!”

they surprisingly allow me to do so, before conrad grabs my wrists and jeremiah grabs my ankles.

“1…” they count together, starting to swing me back and forth by the edge of the pool.

“2…” i squeeze my eyes shut, preparing myself for the cold pool water.

“3!”

i scream as i’m thrown into the air before splashing into the chlorine water. i swim to the surface of the water with a cheeky idea in mind, i grab a hold of my left ankle and distort my facial feature in discomfort,

“shit!” i cry out, taking a breath from being under water for a moment too long.

conrad immediately straightens up at the sight, “baby, what happened? are you okay?” he panics.

“y/n, are you good?” jeremiah asks, the two having obvious concern laced in their facial expressions.

i shake my head and fake a sob, “i think i sprained my ankle at the bottom of the pool.”

in seconds, conrad removes his burgundy tee shirt in one swift movement before diving into the water. his strong arms lifting me and bringing my legs to wrap around his waist, “fuck, i’m so sorry, pretty girl.” he breathes out, planting two kisses on my forehead, “let me see it.”

he swims us over to the edge of the pool where jeremiah once stood before he left to grab towels and an ice pack. conrad lifts me up effortlessly onto the pool side, beginning to inspect my left ankle,

“wait,” he pauses, noticing no swelling nor bruising.

i couldn’t hold in for much longer before i broke into laughter, “i’m sorry! you should’ve seen the look on your pretty face!”

his worry drops before splashing me with water, “you’re so lucky that i love you.”

i stop laughing and wipe my face dry from water before looking at him, “w- what?”

conrad’s eyes widen at the accidentally confession, “i mean… as a friend of course!”

my heart feels a slight tug at the correction but i smile weakly. why would he love me in the way that i feel towards him? i awkwardly laugh before kicking water back at him, and jumping back into the pool.

“ok good, i got worried for a second” i lie, swimming towards him. his hands subconsciously hold onto the curves of my hips, his green eyes looking deep into mine.

i known him for what feels like forever and i can read him like an open book, well typically. but right now, his expression is unreadable. i’m distracted by him, his hands on me, the explosion of butterflies in my gut, and my heart beating loudly in my ears.

his hand cups my cheek, both of our eyes fluttering close as he pulls me closer to his face. i can feel the slight minty feeling of his breath on my lips before,

“i got the ice!” jeremiah yells, with a loud slam of the glass door which caused conrad and i to jump away from each other.

we almost kissed.

i cant even look at my best friend right now, embarrassed with the bright pink colour of my cheeks as i swim over to jeremiah, “thanks” i say quietly, pretending to ice my ankle.

i watch conrad get out of the pool and dismiss himself to his room,

“did something happen?” jeremiah asks, completely lost and confused of the situation.

[ogviceversa]

Head Swap Short: My Dad’s Body At The Pool

Trevor:

God this is embarrassing! I just know all of my friends are going to make fun of me.

I broke my leg about a week ago and I’ve been in bed for days now. I felt like I was going to miss most of the summer.

All of my friends texted me about coming to the pool today and I knew I had no way to go with the current state of my leg.

That’s when my dad stopped by my room and asked me how I was doing. I told him how bummed I am about being to go hang with my friends. That’s when offered to do a head swap with me.

Dad packed me a bag, we swapped heads, and I hurried to the pool.

As I started driving down the road, it felt kinda cool having my dad’s body on. He taller than me and pretty strong.

When I got to the pool, I headed to the locker room and started opening up the bag dad packed. I looked inside and saw only a freaking towel and a speedo!!!

But I’ve already made it this far, I looked around the locker room and saw that no one was around.

I pulled off my dad’s shorts only for his massive dick to come flopping out.

“Oh god! Everyone’s going to see his bulge.”

When I got outside I saw my friends… I took a deep breath and walked over confidently in my dad’s body.

“Holy crap Trevor! Is that your dad’s body?” said my friend Phillip.

“Yeah, it was the only way I could come.”

A couple of the guys laughed about the speedo for a little bit. But all around they thought it was kinda cool that I had my dad’s body on.

Even one of my friends Cameron told me he thought my dad was a dilf.

I’ve had a thing for Cameron for a while now but he’s never shown interest in me (at least until now). He even asked what I was doing after the pool. We ended up getting food after and went back to his house to hang.

We went up stairs and he started flirting with me hard.

“Bro, I don’t mean to be weird but it’s so hot seeing your cute head on top of your dad’s beefy bod.”

“You think haha,” I say back to him.

“Yeah man, I wouldn’t mind seeing it again all undressed,” he says winking at me.

I blushed and said, “I guess I can show it off again.”

I pulled off my dad’s shirt and shorts, all the way down to his underwear.

“Damn…” he says to me.

We go to his parent’s guess bedroom and I hop on top of the bed.

“Trev, I’m so turned on right now. I don’t know how to ask you this but could I rub your dad’s body over?”

“Sure man!”

Cameron goes down to my dad’s big feet and starts rubbing them. It feels pretty good, I guess my dad’s hasn’t had anyone rub his feet in awhile.

All of the sudden, Cam does something that surprised me. He starts licking my dad’s feet.

I watched him be enthralled with them. It was so hot seeing a hot guy my age be so into something I’d never expect.

Cam, crawls up to my dad’s crotch and starts rubbing his inner thighs. I’m surprised that he hasn’t just gone for my dad’s junk yet.

My father’s dick is completely hard and leaking on his underwear.

Cam reaches up and twists my dad’s nipple which made me squeak a bit.

I’ve looks right at my dad’s crotch and back up at me— like he’s taking for my permission.

I wasn’t sure how I felt about it, I knew this wasn’t a boundary I was going to be able to come back from.

I nodded my head and Cameron pulled my dad’s briefs off. My father’s 11 inch hairy dick was now in my crushes hands.

He fondled dad’s big hairy balls and planted his noise right into dad’s taint.

He kisses his cock head a couple of times before he forced dad’s dick down his throat.

I ran dad’s hands through Cam’s curly brown hair while he gave me the best blow job ever.

Cam ran his free hand all over dad’s body, I was coming close.

“Cam I’m about to cum!”

Cam takes all of my dad’s load down his throat.

He says to me, “I want you to jerk me off with your dad’s big manly feet.”

I giggled and said, “okay!”

I used dad’s feet to stroke cam’s 8 inch dick listening to him moan. Cams feet were positioned right near me to touch. I rubbed them and while watching Cam get so much pleasure from a foot job.

Cam let out one last scream of a moan as he squirted all over my dad’s feet.

I watched him lick every inch of cum off of them.

He crawled up to me and we laid in bed together while I cuddled him.

“So are you bringing your dad’s body to the pool tomorrow?”

I grinned at him, “Now I am!”

[horrorgraham96]

The Winning Game Benny Weir x Reader

Warnings: None

Summary: Y/N gets invited to a hockey game and there’s a kiss cam

Word Count: 1757

I sat staring at my homework, the same dull assignments staring back at me. My brain felt sluggish, weighed down by the sheer monotony of equations and essay prompts. The clock on the wall ticked forward at a pace so agonizingly slow that even snails would have overtaken it by now. I absentmindedly chewed on the end of my pen, willing myself to muster the motivation to calculate the obtuse angles before me or craft some insightful commentary on The Great Gatsby. But inspiration was as absent as my enthusiasm, and all I could do was wait—wait for time to inch forward, wait for an idea to spark, wait for this endless night of homework to finally be over. I sighed, tapping my pen against my notebook, willing inspiration to strike. The silence stretched, broken only by the slow ticking of the clock—until suddenly, a sharp knock shattered the stillness.

At first, I ignored it, assuming it was just the wind rattling the door. But then—BANG! BANG! BANG! The knocks grew louder, more insistent, bursting with an urgency that sent a jolt through my tired limbs.

I sat up, my boredom replaced by curiosity. Whoever was on the other side of that door wasn’t just knocking—they were practically vibrating with excitement. I closed my math book, marking the page with my chewed pen and ran down the stairs, adjusting my unkempt sweater. To my surprise, Ethan was on the other side, smiling widely as he flashed four slips of paper in my face.

“Dude, you will not believe this!” he practically shouted, bouncing on his heels. “I got tickets. Front row!”

His excitement was infectious, his energy a sharp contrast to my previous drowsiness. My brain was still catching up, trying to process his words, but Ethan was already shoving the papers into my hands.

“Come on! Get your shoes—this is happening!"

My eyes drifted past the power lines flickering through the window, their steady rhythm matching the hum of my thoughts as we drove to pick up Sarah. Ethan was behind the wheel, Benny in the passenger seat next to him while I stayed in the back, my bag resting in my lap while I mindlessly toyed with the small keychain attached to it he gifted me last summer. He drummed his fingers against the dashboard, singing along to the rock song Ethan had put on the radio, his energy filling the car. Benny turned back, locking eyes with me as he lip-synced the words, a mischievous glint in his expression. Heat crept up my cheeks—I felt like the only girl in the world. His beautiful green eyes stayed locked on mine as the car slowed to a stop. Neither of us noticed the song had ended or that we’d arrived until Sarah opened the door. We both jumped at the sudden interruption, quickly looking away in opposite directions. As she got into the back seat with me, she raised a brow and gave me a slight smirk. I knew she could tell something was up but I figured I’d be able to tell her later.

“Did I miss something?” she asked, buckling her seatbelt.

“Nope.” My response was too quick, too sharp, and Benny didn’t help by stifling a laugh up front.

Sarah didn’t push, but the teasing glint in her eyes said she wasn’t letting this go anytime soon. Benny leaned back, his eyes meeting mine once more.

“Man, nothing beats a front-row seat to a good game. Gets the heart racing, keeps you on your toes... Some people just live for that kind of excitement." I noticed his eyes glance down at my lips, just for a second. Sarah’s smirk deepened. Ethan froze.

“Anyway—Sarah, you said you went to a game once, right? What was that like?" He stammered, too loudly, too fast, trying to redirect the conversation.

“Oh shoot, is that the time?” I said, glancing behind Benny, the clock on the radio clearly reading the game began in 30 minutes. Ethan turned and gasped, fumbling with the keys before shoving the car into drive.

—

The stadium filled with the roaring hyped up crowd waved like the sea during a tide. Every cheer rippled through the stands like a rolling wave, crashing into the next as flashing lights cut through the packed seats. Lights flashed around, the air smelled of popcorn and hotdogs. Every step on the concrete seemed to cling to the soles of our shoes, tacky with melted ice and syrup.

The scoreboard flickered—2-2.

The roar of the crowd swelled, voices clashing in waves of excitement and frustration as the puck sliced across the ice. The sharp scrape of skates echoed through the arena, cutting against the thundering bass of the stadium speakers.

"Come on, come on—" Ethan muttered under his breath, gripping his soda cup like it was about to shatter.

Across the rink, Benny lounged back, arms spread along the seatbacks like he had all the time in the world. Too relaxed. I narrowed my eyes.

A buzzer blared—someone had possession. The energy spiked.

The stadium was a clear split of red and blue.Jerseys, streaks of facepaint, and waving flags created a clear divide—two sides clashing in color, in energy, in sheer desperation to win. We were on the red side, looking like a wave of blood splattered onto the seats. As our team made a shot, Benny stood and cheered with Ethan, their screams filling Sarah and I’s ears. When Benny sat back down, his arm draped over my shoulder—casual, effortless, like it had always belonged there.

Heat crept up my throat, slow, suffocating. My chest tightened first, then my legs, every muscle locking into place like the entire stadium had just shifted around me. I shot a glance at Sarah who just gave me a smirk again. It was like she knew something I didn’t.

A whistle cut through the stadium noise, sharp and final.

The players slowed, skates scraping against the ice as they drifted toward their benches. The scoreboard blinked—still tied.

The crowd buzzed with lingering adrenaline, some fans groaning at missed opportunities while others cheered for their team’s resilience. The stadium lights dimmed slightly, the shift signaling the break.

A voice boomed over the loudspeakers.

"Alright, folks, while our players catch their breath, you know what time it is—"

The crowd shifted, already anticipating what was coming.

"That’s right! It’s time for the KISS CAM!"

A wave of excited cheers and playful shouting rolled through the stands as the jumbo screen flickered to life, its familiar pink heart-shaped border flashing across the arena.

The first pair appeared—an older couple who laughed before sharing a sweet kiss. The next—two teens who hesitated before awkwardly leaning in, sending the crowd into amused whistles.

Then, the screen jumped again, for a second I thought I was seeing things. The jumbo screen flashed and suddenly-there we were. Benny and I.

My chest tightened. The noise of the stadium blurred, swallowed by the roaring heartbeat in my ears. Benny hadn't moved. Hadn't reacted. But I could feel the weight of his arm over my shoulders more now, like it had shifted from casual to something... else.

The chanting slammed into me, a wall of sound so strong it felt like it was shaking the seats beneath us.

It wasn’t just a few voices—it was everyone. The stadium had turned into one force, one demand, one impossible choice.

"DO IT. DO IT. DO IT."

Each pulse louder than the last. The words weren’t a chant anymore—they were an order.

I turned to face Benny, who was already looking at me. Watching. Waiting. When he leaned in, the space between us shrank, charged with something I wasn’t ready to name.

The fire in my stomach ignited, burning through my ribs, licking at my spine. He gave me a slight nod—asking.

I nodded back—answering.

This was happening.

My body moved on autopilot. My eyes shut, and then—his lips on mine.

Soft. Warmer than I expected. Then deeper, slow, languid, tasting like syrupy root beer and trouble. His mouth curled into a smile against mine, and I couldn’t help but smile too. I felt him shift, felt the heat of him—felt everything.

It was over as fast as it started.

We pulled apart, breathless, and the stadium erupted, a wall of deafening cheers that drowned out everything—except Benny. Except the fire still burning beneath my skin.

I wanted to melt into my seat. Butterflies crashed against my ribs. It hit me all at once.

I had just kissed Benny Weir.

And he had kissed me back.

The stadium was still roaring, the cheers so loud they felt like they might shake the ice itself.

We had won.

Ethan was screaming, nearly knocking over his soda in pure celebration. Benny, grinning like an idiot, let his arm stay exactly where it was—still lazily draped over my shoulders, like he had no intention of moving it any time soon.

But then—something was off.

The replay flashed across the jumbo screen.

"Wait…" Ethan leaned in, squinting at the footage. "Was that—"

There, in grainy stadium quality, was a blur of movement behind the players—a figure with messy blonde hair, skating in absolute chaos, trying not to slip.

And then—the puck nudged forward, barely noticeable, crossing the goal line just enough to count.

Benny inhaled sharply.

"Oh my God," Sarah muttered under her breath.

Rory.

Rory had snuck onto the ice.

Like he had planned this. Like he had decided the game needed a little supernatural assistance and just went for it.

I turned, scanning the crowd—then spotted him sitting innocently three rows back, sipping on a giant cherry slushie, like he hadn’t just altered the outcome of the game.

He waved.

"You’re welcome!"

Absolute mayhem erupted.

Coaches on both sides were shouting, refs were frantically reviewing footage, and Ethan was cackling so hard he had to lean against me for support.

Benny? Benny just laughed, shaking his head. Unbothered. Unapologetic.

His grip tightened slightly, just enough that I noticed.

I swallowed hard. The heat from earlier hadn’t faded.

"Guess we’re celebrating a little differently tonight, huh?" Benny mused, tilting his head, amusement sparking behind his eyes.

My stomach flipped.

He was still close, still effortlessly comfortable in the moment, like we had just unlocked something neither of us were ready to talk about yet.

But we both knew.

The game had ended.

And somehow, this—the weight of Benny’s arm, the warmth of his smile, the lingering burn in my chest—felt like the real win.

[renstrapp]

THE PRINT VOLUME IS OPEN FOR PRE-ORDERS!!

YAY!!!! Book time!!! The Shepherd's Sword, Volume 1 is coming this summer: https://renstrapp.bigcartel.com/product/the-shepherds-sword-volume-1

This printing will include five bonus pages with art from Emma Oosterhous (Grand Slam Romance), Fawnduu (My Dragon Girlfriend), Cam McCafferty (Agent Izzy Bunny, 202X), Adeline Kon (Just Between Us, 2026), and more.

The book's estimated specs: paperback, 140 pages, full color, 5" x 7.8", with a .3" spine. It will look very chic on your bookshelf.

I'm hoping to order these by the end of July to ship out in August to you all. This is volume 1 of 2, because we are halfway through the series :^) Thank you to everyone who has supported The Shepherd's Sword over the years. I can't believe we're at this point already.

(PS: The black and white zines are still on a bundle sale, never to be printed again. If you're interested in collecting them!)

[sourcherryandsprinkles]

Can I please request a Jeremiah x reader smut where it’s both of their first times! Smut but also cute and fluffy! Thank you ♥️

This is my first time writing for Jeremiah, please be nice. While I like him in the show - I am not team Jeremiah though -, I find him difficult to write about, so idk if I'll keep him on my list...

my taglists are here + you can send requests here at any time

—

When it comes to losing your virginity, you've always wanted to wait for the right moment to do it. Maybe it was watching rom-coms and reading hundreds of romances that implanted this vision in your mind, or maybe it was just you wanting to make that big moment perfect, knowing you could never re-do it if you jinxed it…or worse, regret it.

‘’I have not,’’ Belly confessed quietly, shaking her head. ‘’Cam and I went on our third date. It’s way too early.’’ She picked at a loose thread on her shorts, not exactly comfortable talking about sex but feeling comfortable enough to talk about it with you. ‘’Have you and Jere..?’’

‘’No,’’ you said, excluding the other things you and Jeremiah had done that weren’t full-on penetrative sex. ‘’But we are thinking about it.’’

Belly’s attention snapped up. ‘’Oh?’’

You nodded, a light flush tinted your cheeks.

‘’Are you nervous?’’

You nodded again.

So many things could go wrong even if you make sure everything is perfect. You also heard some girls say it hurt the first time and that they bled, which scared you a little.

Belly grabbed your hand, pulling you from your thoughts. ‘’I may not know anything about sex, but what I know is that it’s Jeremiah. He loves you. There’s nothing to be nervous about,’’ she assured you.

A few weeks later, the day finally came.

Your mom was out at her book club meeting and your dad was at the country club, leaving the house to yourself for a few hours. Taking advantage of their absence, you texted Jeremiah to come over…and to bring the condoms.

It was bold and definitely had him grinning on his couch at home before making up an excuse to ditch Steven at video games and shower and get ready for the big event.

While Jeremiah was getting ready, you did the same. You put on matching bra and underwear, gave your hair an extra brush and spritzed yourself with Jeremiah’s favorite perfume of yours, lit some candles for ambiance although it was burning hot outside. You made sure everything was perfect.

Except it wasn’t perfect. 

Right when Jeremiah unhooked your bra, his phone started blaring loudly and wouldn't stop. After the fifth ring, Jeremiah answered and left, needing to pick up his mother at the country club. He said he could come back after, but the moment was already ruined.

By some miracle, you were presented another perfect opportunity a few days later.

Susannah was out with Belly and Laurel for a debutante dress fitting, Conrad was at the beach surfing, and Steven was with Shayla.

You and Jeremiah were having a swim in his pool to cool down from the sun. Summer was beautiful, but the heat was too much sometimes. Thankfully, Jeremiah had a nice pool, which you loved to take advantage of. As always, playful splashing turned into kissing and soon enough, you were making out.

You moved things upstairs to Jeremiah’s room for more privacy, and also because didn’t want your first time to be in a pool or on the Fisher’ back porch. 

‘’Careful!’’ Jeremiah reminded as the two of you hurried upstairs, leaving water all over the floors despite being wrapped in a towel. ‘’The floors are slippery when we—’’ 

You caught his arm in time before he could slip and fall, sending the two of you in a fit of laughter. The fun was interrupted when he backed you against the wall and kissed you in the hallway. You melted against him and let your towel drop. 

Jeremiah brought you to his bed, not caring about the wet patched your wet baiting suits would leave behind. It's not like you were going to keep them on for very long. 

Hands were all over each other's body, exploring and grabbing while you were kissing with desire. You undid the ties of your bikini, chucking it on the floor, then moved to your bottoms. Your whole body was on fire under Jeremiah's touch — you needed it all off. 

You reached for Jeremiah's shorts, helping him out because it was harder to take off when wet...and horny, but that's when Steven decided to walk in like he owned the place, catching sight of Jeremiah's bare ass. 

For the rest of the summer, you weren't able to find a good moment. Jeremiah was either working at the country club's pool, or someone was home. You could have snuck to an empty bedroom at a party, but a stranger's bedroom was nothing romantic for a first time. 

You were starting to get impatient so, one night he was supposed to drive you home, you made him pull over and stop the car. It was dumb and had high risks of getting caught, but you didn't care. 

‘’Are you sure?'' Jeremiah asked, seeing you pull your dress over your head. ''We don’t have to if you don’t.’’

You shook your head, looking right into his beautiful blue eyes. ‘’You’re my best friend, Jere. I want it to be you. I want it to be now.’’ 

—

All and more taglist: @spiokybirdstarfish @kenqki @liidiaaag @hawkegfs  @gillybear17  @areaderinlove @acornacreacure @black-rose-29 @fudge13 @cece05 @rosie-cameron @Caxddce @laylasbunbunny @gemofthenight @beautyb1ade  @hi-bored-as-fcuk-rn  @lovelyy-moonlight @mellabella101 @vxnity713  @marzipaanz  @bisexualgirlsblog @queenofslytherin889 @thatbxtchesblog @softb-tterfly @ethanlandrycanbreakmyheart  @xyzstar  @graceberman3  @Heartsforneteyamsully  @aerangi  @hallecarey1

TSITP taglist: @msmarvelknight  @maritaleane @dingus0401 @idontknowwhatimdoing777

[johnnyslittleanimalblog]

Hey everyone and especially bear lovers and explore.org bear cam fans, I have some bear news and some bear gossip for you all. the bear cams at brooks falls will be operational soon. They are usually online by the second week of June.

In reading the bear chat on the explore bear cam web page the past couple weeks I have learned several bears have already arrived at brooks falls and seen by the rangers. Among them are chunk ( 32 ) looking VERY fat , bearforce one ( 747 ) and 901 ( without any spring cubs ) I had been looking forward to a couple of Bucky juniors running around brooks falls this year given the well documented public romance between 901 and Bucky ( 164 ) last summer.

This is a photo ( above ) I took off the explore.org bear cams at brooks falls in 2024 of one of my favorite families the 910 family (the Beadies ). 910 jr. now 3 and a half years old, her cousin 909 jr. now 4 and a half years old ( adopted by her auntie 910 ) and 910.

The 910 family arrived intact 3 or 4 weeks ago at brooks falls but it has now been reported both 910's daughters 910 jr (Bead ) and 909 jr. (Bean ) have been emancipated. It is likely 910 is in estrogen and being courted by male bears. Although this was expected and inevitable I will miss seeing this family all together. Both of these sub adult bears will do very well on their own and they benefited from an extra year with their mom. And in other news....... 909 ( 910's sister ) has also been seen at brooks falls and with TWO SPRING CUBS ! ( COY - Cub of Year ) I have seen photos taken by the rangers and they are very cute. I didn't ask permission to post the photos here but you can see them for yourselves in the chat. I can't wait to see them when the cams come on as well as all the rest of my favorite bears.

I will let you know when the cams come online. It is like christmas morning for me.

happy bear viewing !

~johnny

the explore.org Bear Cam < click

[albatmobile]

would you ever write manslut jason ,something about him being stupid for pussy is mmmh 🤤🤤

i got you!! (see also this ask included in this chap :p)

parent teacher conferences and other places to meet a pornstar pt. 3

[1] [2] [3] [4] || ao3

𓅪 Rated: E | 8k includes: cam girl AU, teacher AU, misunderstandings, confessions, identity reveal, miscommunication, fingering, pussy eating, anal sex, threesome, degradation, praise, spanking, choking, hair pulling, creampie

𓅪 cam girl fem!reader x jason todd, cam girl fem!reader x roy harper, cam girl fem!reader x jason todd x roy harper

You feel like you’ve fallen right into a trap.

He obviously knows who you are, but you didn’t know who he was fully until last night. 

You feel entirely deceived and were honestly just thanking your lucky stars that he hadn’t ended up being some serial killer stalker. 

Now you’re left to fret over how to go about this. After all, Lian’s still in your class and you’ll have to face him come Monday.

After thinking on it further, you realize he hasn’t been in your stream since before the parent teacher conference. This fact alone makes you feel a bit better, but you can’t deny the whole situation still has you feeling weird. 

However, it’s not like he’d be comfortable enough to tell you he’s your top fan within a week of talking to you…

Ugh.

Why did this have to get so complicated?

You don’t think he’s dangerous and you can’t deny you were starting to have feelings for the redhead, but this all convoluted everything. Well, more so than it already was with you being Lian’s teacher… And your cam job… 

Okay, yes, so, the whole thing basically.

You need to figure out how you’re going to handle the situation going forward, or if there’ll even be a situation going forward.

It’s going to be a long weekend.

➸💋➸

You go into Monday with your head held high. 

Though you feel confident with your decision, as the end of the day nears you can’t help but feel anxiety at the impending confrontation. 

Spring finally begins to show, with bees and birds emerging from their winter cocoons. The warmer temperatures allow you to keep your windows open during the lesson, something the kids have really appreciated. When your fellow teacher mentioned she was going out to the playground with her class and offered to take yours, you agreed.

It allows you more time to ready yourself and you’re grateful for the distraction it brings as summer and, coincidentally, the end of school draws nearer.

After the final bell rings, all of the kids continue to play on the playground, leaving the parents to come in and grab their kids' school supplies. It makes it easier when Roy- Mr. Harper, you correct yourself, lingers ever so slightly. 

He seems like he’s being respectful of your distance, which only cements your decision further. 

You ask him to hang back, something he complies with anxiously. Surprisingly, his nervousness only makes you feel more confident. You definitely made the right choice.

The hallways are empty and a quick look outside proves just how busy the playground is today. It’s the hottest day of the year and, so far, everyone’s taking full advantage of it. Well, everyone except for you and Mr. Harper.

How do you even start this conversation?

Part of you hopes that he’ll start babbling and save you from the pain of your own. Instead, he takes a back seat, letting you take complete control of the situation. He’s leaning stiffly against one of the desks in front of your own, so you move to lean loosely against the front of your desk. This position leaves maybe two feet of space between the two of you, something he seems to notice with an absentminded lick of his lips.

You cross your arms with a sigh, noticing how he carefully observes your every minuscule movement. 

“I’m sorry for leaving like I did,” you finally build up the courage to say.

The redheaded dad mimics your crossed arms briefly, then uncrosses them and goes back to tapping anxiously against the desk with his freckled fingers. Then, he exhales with a light laugh. His head falls forward, hiding his eyes from your view through his long, orange locks, though the smile is evident on his face even as he subconsciously moves his hand over it pensively.

“Fire escape is a new low,” he drawls, with mirth evident as his light green eyes finally reach yours again. “Jason will never let me live that down, you know?”

You can’t help but laugh lightly, your arms unfolding as you do. You grip the edge of the desk exactly as Roy had during your first confrontation with him, back when he’d first shook your world. 

“I did swear him to secrecy, in all fairness, so that’s on him,” you jest lightly. 

At this point, he stops leaning on the desk and takes a step closer to you as if to test the waters. 

You allow it.

He reaches out for your hands.

Once again, you allow it. 

“I wanted to reach out so badly,” Roy says as he stares down at your intertwined hands. “I promise nothing happened after the movie. Hand to god, babe.” To cement his point, he moves his hand with yours to press the back of your hand against his beating heart. 

“That’s not even what this is about, Roy- Mr. Harper.”

He hardly notices the correction, brow knit together in confusion. “Then, what was it about?” he asks in confusion.

It’s your turn to throw his username at him. “Arsenal,” you reply simply.

Your one word leaves his mouth to drops and, subsequently, for him to drop your hands. “Holy shit,” he spouts as he starts pacing, not even looking at you. Now you’re the confused one. “How did you figure it out?!”

“It’s nothing to be embarrassed about, I promise,” you reassure him, not understanding the large reaction he’s having.

“Soo,” he trails off uncomfortably, “you were cool with that one night?”

When he randomly gave you the $200 tip?

“It was a little weird, but yeah,” you reply genuinely. Having one of your student’s parents be subbed to you is one thing, them being your top fan before ever knowing you? Whole different ballgame.

He exhales deeply, with it going the rest of his worries, “Sick. Okay, cool.” You watch as he rubs sheepishly at the back of his head, while a crimson blush burns across his freckled cheeks. “So, where do we go from here? Can I even ask that?” he hurriedly tacks on at the end with wide eyes. “I just mean I don’t expect anything from you and I don’t want you to feel like you have to-"

There’s the signature rambling you’ve been missing. 

“Roy,” you say, your amused tone effectively cuts him off. His eyes snap to yours in an instant as if he’s ready to drink in any and every word you give him. Good. You can’t afford to mess anything up. “I really like spending time with you; that’s not the issue. Regardless of all of all of this shit, we need to take all of this slow until the end of the year.”

He nods earnestly. “I can do that.”

“Good,” you smile, “it’s just a few months away, anyway.”

“Does this mean we can hang out before then?” 

You laugh, though it comes out breathier than you’d meant it, something Roy notices with hungry eyes.

“Are you asking me out on a date?” you ask slyly.

He just shakes his head with a cheeky smile. “Trust me, you’ll know when I’m asking you on a date.”

➸💋➸

After this confrontation, you start hanging out with Roy every chance you get.

It only makes sense that, after a few weeks of constantly hanging out, Roy gets to see the real side of you. 

You can only hide your nerdiness from him for a day as your conversations soon center around all the Batman comics you’ve read. Another few days and Roy figures out you like cat memes. It’s something he lets you know is ‘the stupidest shit ever,’ but it doesn’t stop him from spamming your phone with them while you’re at work.

It’s only so long before your Red Hood rants spill out of you as if you’re sitting on Wonder Woman’s lasso. You’re out at coffee with him while Lian’s at dance practice when it comes out, much to Roy’s obvious chagrin.

“He’s like, god-like hot, you know? Like I’d lick his combat boots the same way I’d lick the filth ring in his bathtub,” you admit, then stop and shake your head when you realize it doesn’t cover it. “I’d fucking suck on his sweaty jockstrap. I’m not even kidding, Roy.”

He nearly spits out his coffee, choking and pounding at his chest after your remark. “Oh?”

You nod your head. “Deadass,” you say.

You might think his quiet to mean that he was jealous, you know, if only you hadn’t been talking about Black Canary in much of the same way last week. If anything, it seems more like he’s thinking hard about something, but what, you’re not quite sure.

“What do you know about him?” Roy asks.

You sip at your drink as you think back to what you know of the vigilante—if he can even be called that.

“I haven’t really been paying much attention anymore to be honest, I’ve been really focused on work. This being said, I know it’s been a few years since Red Hood’s even been in Gotham,” you say, pushing your glasses further up the bridge of your nose as you try to piece together a timeline. “But I think I saw something in the news recently that sounded like his work. Maybe around the time school started this year?” Roy seems impressed, though he trains his expression before you can question it. “Either way, I don’t know much about him. No,” you trail off with a light blush.

“You’re cute, you know that?” he teases you, sipping with a pointed smirk.

Your blush intensifies as it so often does when you go on your nerd rants and he calls you out on it. “Shut up, Harper.”

After the coffee shop, comic book references and photos of Red Hood you’d never seen also get sent to you during work. Each pic of Hood is signed off with Roy’s signature ‘;p.’

➸💋➸

After another month of getting to know each other and the final two weeks of school are steadfast approaching. You’ll definitely miss seeing Lian and her dopey dad every weekday but can’t deny that it might just lead the way for other, better things to come to fruition. 

This weekend, Lian’s with her grandparents in Aruba.

“Why didn’t you go?” you ask as you sit on his kitchen counter.

He’s cooking something, but you still can’t tell what the mess is going to be.

The redhead looks over his shoulder as he addresses you from the stove in front of you, “Not on the best of terms right now. Haven’t been for a while, to be honest, but I’m not gonna let the kid miss out on experiences because of it.”

“Oh,” you say, not knowing how else to respond.

He brings a spoon over for you to taste something, but your hair keeps getting in the way. You use the hair tie you have around your wrist to tie it up, but falter when the look behind Roy’s eyes changes. 

“You look good,” he says, his voice deeper than it’s been all day. Roy gently guides the spoon between your pliant lips when you feel it.

“Roy!” you sputter through the hotness of the sauce in your mouth. You glance down and see that, yes, this man is hard as fuck. For what, though, you honestly have no idea.

“Sorry, babe,” he apologizes as he wipes at stray sauce on the corner of your mouth with a wicked glint flickering behind his green eyes. “Watching you put your hair up does things to me. Don’t hold it against me.”

You raise a brow at the obvious joke he’s setting you up for, but don’t bite.

“So, that’s what happened in the classroom that one day,” you trail off in amusement. 

He throws his head back and laughs, “Fuck. I totally forgot about that shit.” Roy goes back to the stove, shaking his head as he does. “You know, I’m surprised you didn’t kick me out right then and there.”

“I thought about it,” you retort easily. “I like you too much, though.”

You’ve yet to really disclose your feelings to him. 

Like, yes, you’d had sex, but in the months of you hanging out after, you’d hardly done much beyond cuddling and hand holding. It was almost elementary the way the two of you courted and it’s unlike anything you’ve ever had before. It makes you appreciate Roy even more that he’s willing to go at your pace without pushing. 

“I don’t think I asked you how your day was,” he says, still facing away from you.

You groan, thinking back on your long Friday, “It was long and hard.”

Roy turns around, pretending to be stabbed in the heart. “How will I ever compare?”

You snort, “I meant with the kids, dumbass.”

“Oh, thank god,” he says. You laugh again, reveling in how he looks over your curves before turning back around to shut off the stove. “Thought I might have to break our end of the year rules.”

You bite slightly at your bottom lip, eyes trailing over his strong shoulders and rippling arms that fly with each movement he makes. You’ve often thought of breaking the rule, too, but you can’t. 

There was one night you came close, literally. 

You’d spent the night, but only a few times and only ever if Lian wasn’t going to be there.

That particular night, you’d been on a walk together and stopped at a place for dinner that he’d heard good things about. 

“This isn’t a date?” you’d asked.

“No,” Roy had responded cheekily. “I told you you’d know when it happens, baby.”

After dinner, you cuddled in his bed while you watched a movie. One thing led to another and the two of you ended up making out, groping and humping each other through the rest of it. It was entirely juvenile and yet it felt so much better than the usual sex you were used to. 

The rest of the night was spent jacking off in front of each other.  It became a competition to who could make the other come faster, a skill you were obviously better equipped to handle. The entire situation reminded you of your private sessions with him, however this time it was no longer anonymously. 

You’d absolutely loved it.

Roy takes the pot off the stove just as Jason comes in.

“What’s up,” Jason greets. He looks over the two of you in feigned disinterest as he takes off his coat and sets down a large, black duffle bag. 

By now, the Jason was used to your presence in their shared apartment. Half the time he’d join the two of you cuddling on the couch, the other half he’d lay in Roy’s bed kick the two of your asses at Mario Kart.

Roy always cooks enough for an army and always sets aside a plate for Jason. You’d become used to eating with the both of them when you were over here, so it’s no surprise when Roy sets out three bowls.

“Just finished up dinner, chatting about her day,” Roy replies and starts plating the pasta as Jason leans against the counter beside you.

“Oh?”

“Yeah.” You blush under the raven’s sudden attention, clearing your throat all while hoping he doesn’t see how much his presence alone throws you off. “It was announced that they’re making another round of budget cuts this year. I don’t know how much more of my other paycheck I can forfeit over for classroom supplies,” you sigh, forgetting your previous abashedness. “The kids deserve so much better and I know they learn a lot from the activities I create, but I’m running dry. With the cuts, I just don’t see how my lesson plans, at least as they are now, can stand.”

The rest of dinner goes smoothly with the conversation flowing easily among the three of you.

You’ve never met two people you bonded with more, let alone how fast you’ve grown attached to both of them. It’s honestly a bit scary, but you feel as if you can trust both of them. You definitely trust that you’ve made the right decision to hang around.

After helping with the dishes, you allow them to lead you out to the infamous balcony where all the previous misunderstandings had originated at. Jason lights up a Marlboro while Roy lights up a blunt.

The wind tangles your hair and sputters smoke in your face, but you can’t help but laugh. Your heart flutters as the three of you stand shoulder to shoulder, watching as the sun drenches the ugly Gotham skyscrapers in dreamy oranges and pinks. 

➸💋➸

Monday, the school holds an impromptu celebration in the auditorium after a generous donation from the Wayne Foundation. You have to do a double take when you realize that Jason himself has shown up to deliver the huge check in his father’s honor. 

Afterward, you watch as he meets your eyes before slipping into the hallway. The same teacher who helped you out last time sees this and offers to take your class back to the room before shooing you off with waggling brows.

School’s been dismissed ever since the end of the ceremony, so most kids are rushing to get their things to go play outside.

“I really appreciate it,” you tell her as you make to follow the raven-haired man. “I’ll just be a second, I promise.”

This particular hallway is deserted aside from Jason who’s loosened his tie.

“No kids?” he asks when he sees you.

You laugh at his odd greeting, “They’re on their way back to the classroom with the other class. I was just coming out here to see if you’d want to come back to my classroom with me.”

His brows raise, though his expression remains the same as ever. “Alright.”

You lead him down the hallway, turning around to shoot him a questioning gaze as he follows behind you instead of beside you. 

“I don’t bite,” you jest when you spot the tell-tale sign of a smirk forming across is pale face.

He finally cracks a smile as he sidles up beside you, dwarfing you with his height. 

“Darling, we both know that’s a lie.”

You giggle at the new nickname and try not to let him see how much it’s affecting you. Luckily, you round the corner and find your classroom nearly vacated. Most parents have already stopped through and now only Lian remains.

“Uncle Jason!” The little girl jumps on the man. He spins her around in his arms a few times before putting her down with a small smile. “My friends are all outside. Can I go?” she begs, looking between the two of you with puppy dog eyes you just know Roy’s taught her. “Please!”

“Sure, kid.” 

With Jason’s blessing, she’s off. 

You don’t have to wait long before you spot Lian running around with two other girls on the playground through your classroom window. Though there are parents and teachers out there keeping an eye on everything, you still pay attention to her out of habit.

Your phone vibrates on your desk, something Jason picks up to hand to you. He looks down and huffs in amusement as he flips your screen around to show you the cat meme Roy’s sent you with the note ‘almost there.’ 

“You guys are so fucking lame,” he says, though you can see the clear amusement behind his emerald eyes.

You blush and adjust your glasses a bit. “Definitely a long way from the fire escape,” you jest. Jason laughs at your joke, but you can see there’s something else on his mind. “What’s wrong?” you ask.

“Just that, you don’t mind me being hanging out when,” he clears his throat, looking around, then back down at you. “I’m not interrupting the two of you, am I?”

You definitely aren’t expecting that. 

You had meet Jason first, well, at least, you’d fucked him first, but neither of you had ever discussed making it more official. Then the gala with the three of you to now hanging out with both of them. Jason was a closed book, never one to wear his emotions on his sleeve, so you never expected it to go much beyond sex, yet here he is, asking something that bares all.

Does this mean he wants something more from you? You know you wouldn’t mind it in the slightest, though it could complicate things with Roy. You’ve never detected any jealously between the two of them, but that didn’t mean the threesome was more than a one-off thing.

You can’t help but wonder: would he mind it being the three of you? If he didn’t mind, how would this even work? 

At the very least, Jason seems just as confused with the situation as you are. 

You blush as you reply, “I don’t think so.” After this, you mention something about not knowing if Roy minds, but Jason’s quick to assuage your worries. 

“I don’t think so,” Jason repeats your statement.

You fill with relief. “I guess we’ll just have to ask him, then.” 

Jason’s eyes flash with something you think, no, hope, is respect as Roy waltzes in.

“Ask who what?” Roy asks as he walks over to Jason to do their dumb handshake thing they always do when they greet each other.  

“Speak of the devil,” Jason tones monotonously as he daps him up.

“Talkin’ about lil ol’ me, Jay?” he says in an off-country accent that makes you laugh and Jason rolls his eyes at the whole ordeal. “All good things, I hope,” Roy says, suddenly looking around the empty classroom. “Wait, where’s the stinker?” You smile as you point her out on the monkey bars. “God, she’s getting so big,” he sighs.

Roy’s obviously distracted by Lian’s cuteness, however you and Jason both seem fixated on him. You catch his emerald eyes and glance away quickly, feeling your cheeks heat up as you do. 

Maybe Jason likes Roy just as much as you do.

Maybe all three of you really could…

You clear your throat, “Jason and I were just talking about the three of us.”

Roy’s eyes tear away from the open windows to face you with raised brows. It seems like he knows exactly what you’re insinuating. After all, how could he not? Regardless, he plays dumb.

“Oh?”

You bite at your lower lip, wishing Jason would say something, anything, but he seems content to have you make an ass of yourself. Either that, or he’s surprised you’d even bothered to bring it up. 

There’s a shift in the air, an electrification of each and every particle of air as the three of you take each other in. 

“Well, don’t leave me in suspense, babe. I mean-” Roy sputters to correct himself, realizing you’re in the classroom, but you’re hardly paying attention to that. No, you’re too busy looking at the way that Jason’s looking at the two of you.

 “We’re all good, right?” Is what ends up coming out of your mouth. “What we have?”

His eyes glint knowingly. However, he continues to feign some semblance of ignorance as he won’t fully address what you’re really asking, “Of course. Right, Jay?”

Jason stiffens slightly before crossing his arms. “Right,” he agrees.

The sexual tension is palpable, giving you the answer to at least one of your questions. The threesome definitely wasn’t a one-off thing, then. 

Though certain questions linger, you allow time to grace you with their answers. 

For now, at least. 

➸💋➸

A week later, Roy asks you out on your first official date when the two of you take Lian to celebrate the last day of school. You’re wiping Lian’s chin and trying to get her to lick where her Superman ice cream is dripping down the cone when he asks.

Your mouth opens, then shuts as a smile overtakes your face. “About time,” you joke.

“See,” he laughs and helps you wipe Lian up, "I told you you’d know when I asked you out.”

This is how you end up outside the new restaurant in Gotham that Roy had been boasting about.

You’re dressed in your comfiest V-neck sweater. It’s tucked partially into a form-fitting skirt, and you're wearing knee-high, heeled boots to match. Together with your recent clutch purchase, you look effortless yet completely classy. Though it’s technically summer, it’s been cloudy all day and the temperatures are still decently low for this time of year, making your outfit the perfect choice.

Filled with anxiety, you end up arriving ten minutes earlier than you’d planned to meet up, so you stand outside. 

At first, you don’t mind watching as cars speed by and cut each other off in the downtown traffic, but soon you grow restless. A quick glance at your phone proves there’s only a few minutes left before the agreed upon time arrives. 

Your leg bounces as you watch couple after couple enter the joint and wonder if you should go in as well. 

Then, it starts to sprinkle. 

Your leg bounces harder.

It’s as cliche as a 2000s chick flick, but not even a minute later, it honest to god starts pouring.

You seek shelter under the awning of the restaurant, but the spattering of the rain still manages to dust your outfit in dew. Coupled with the angry Gotham drivers who seem content to hit every rain-filled pothole, you’re soaked by the time Roy’s running twenty minutes late.

Not a single fucking text either, the cunt. 

After all these months, have you really been reading it all wrong?

“The fuck are you doing?” You jump, turning to the deep voice from behind you. Jason’s standing there, much less drenched than you are, though still drenched nonetheless. “You trying to catch a cold?” he asks. Though his words are blunt, his tone is entirely gentle as he addresses you.

You don’t know why, but you start to sniffle. Soon, your tears join the chilling rain that’s dripping down your cooled cheeks.

“Sorry,” you say pathetically as he wraps you into a warm hug. 

When he pulls back, you notice the concern on his face. He keeps his hands on your upper arms and begins to rub up and down to heat you back up. 

“Did someone hurt you?” he growls, looking at you with a sternness that challenges you to dare lie to his face. 

“No,” you sniffle again. “Well, not physically. No.” You shake your head, looking around in hopes that what you think is happening isn’t happening, but it is. Roy’s still nowhere to be found. “Roy stood me up,” you finally breathe out.

At this, he seems lost for words if only briefly.

“I’m sure it’s a mistake,” he says. At your admission, his dark brows knit together in confusion, looking around as if Roy will somehow appear out of thin air. “You sure you’re okay?” he asks, looking deeply into your eyes.

The way your stomach flips at the intimate action assures you that, yes, you’ll be fine. Through the pang of disappointment, you manage a smile.

“Yeah, I’ll be good.”

“You know,” Jason trails off suddenly, shoving his hands into the pockets of his leather jacket, “I haven’t eaten yet.”

He’s about as soaked as you are now. Together, the two of you look like you’d been dunked in the harbor a few feet away and, for some reason, it ends up making you feel less like shit.

“Oh?” you question. Your smile becomes genuine as you watch him blush.

He kicks lightly at the sidewalk. “And I was the one who recommended this joint to Roy.”

“Were you, now?” you ask coquettishly. 

He pushes up your raindrop-covered glasses that have fallen down the bridge of your nose. 

Suddenly, you don’t feel so cold.

“Have dinner with me?” he asks finally.

“I can do that.”

➸💋➸

Dinner goes perfectly. 

So perfect that you end up back at his and Roy’s apartment after.

Your lips mash against his smooth ones as soon as you’re through the threshold of the door. Jason quickly rids you of your still damp clothes as the two of you tangle together. He pushes you down onto the couch before unbuttoning his button-up shirt.

“Should I leave the doors to the balcony open for you?” he teases easily.

You laugh, flinging the last of your clothes off as you draw him onto the couch with you. The two of you meld together perfectly as if you’ve known each other’s bodies for years.

It starts off with a deep kiss that soon turns sloppy as you arch against him, begging for friction that he keeps denying. 

He settles his girth right in front of your entrance before, ultimately, dragging it lazily across your already slick folds. The two of you watch as if mesmerized by the salacious action. His tip catches on your clit, forcing a breathy sigh from you as you chase after his member desperately. 

“You’re so fucking wet for me,” he mutters as he sits back to get a better view of you.

You bite at your bottom lip, wriggling down in hopes that he’ll finally give in and give you what you’ve been so patient for, but he doesn’t. Instead, his calloused fingers make practiced work against your clit and entrance.

“Jason,” you sigh shakily as he teases a finger closer and closer to your slit. “Please, I can’t take much more of this teasing. I need your cock, Jay- fuck!”

He smirks down at your flushed form, lowering himself so that he’s face to face with your twitching cunt. “Beg me, then,” your name is a sin rolling off his tongue as it makes brief contact with your pussy.

“So fucking good,” you whimper, wriggling your hips for more. “Please, I need you. Give it to me,” you beg. 

He chuckles lowly with his breath, warming your inner thighs, “Good girl.”

The tip of his tongue strokes up and down the length of your cunt before flattening and granting you one slow, delicious lick that ends with him teasing at your clit.

Your hips arch upward against his mouth, granting him better access as his tongue and finger work in tandem on your leaking cunt. He’s too fucking good and you’re already feeling the iciness of an orgasm blooming from your lower stomach.

You need him in you, like, now, preferably.

The heat behind your eyes must convey this because he doesn’t have it within himself to continue teasing as he has been. He’s finally lining himself up with you, ready to stick it in while you squirm under him in anticipation.

Before he can, however, there’s a loud ‘thump’ before the front door bursts open.

You nearly jump out of your skin as the two of you turn around to see-

“She’s never gonna talk to me again, bro,” the costumed man from the alley laments. He’s too busy taking off his mud-covered, red boots to notice the two naked forms on the couch. “I fucked up the fucking date so fucking hard, dude. I got caught up in all this dumb shit and I totally lost track of time and I just know she fucking hates me for leaving her hanging-” You clear your throat, finally drawing his attention to you. “Oh, shit,” he curses, looking over your naked body in surprise before turning to Jason. “Oh, shit,” he finally looks down at his attire, “fuck me.”

There was no other person that voice could belong to, but…

“Roy?!”

The dude from the alley? Holy shit. The random tip and his rambling in the day that followed make so much more fucking sense now. Still naked, you get up and begin to check out his uniform.  

“I thought you already knew?” He seems entirely confused and somewhat on edge.

So, that day in the classroom, he thought you’d been referring to his vigilantism? 

“I guess I do now,” you trail off as you come upon him. 

When you were in the alley, you do recall Jason calling him Arsenal… When you’d confronted him about his cam profile, inmyarsenal, you hadn’t known it’d been based off of a vigilante persona, let alone that Roy’s an actual vigilante.

Jason seems calm enough by all the recent revelations that you assume Jason knows about Roy’s alias, but does he know how you and Roy actually met, then?

“You know, most people would be devastated to find their date fucking their roommate,” Roy’s deep voice tickles at your ears as your hands come up to gently stroke his familiar, freckled arms. 

You remove his mask as final confirmation that, yes, this is Roy. 

“You’ve watched me fuck multiple guys at this point,” you counter, still trying to add everything up in your head. “I was pissed,” you admit, referencing his earlier rambling about you.

“Was?” Roy asks hopefully.

You nod. “But now I understand why you couldn’t be there.”

You watch as he breathes a sigh of relief, but the moment is short-lived.

“Now I’m lost,” Jason says.

So, Roy hadn’t told him about how you’d met.

You turn to him, then at Roy. “You didn’t tell him?” you ask, feeling entirely confused.

Roy seems abashed. “Why would I tell him?’ 

You shrug, completely surprised he never mentioned to his friend that he’s your #1 fan.

Jason, however, completely misreads the conversation entirely. “You’re a vigilante like us?”

“Like you?” you question, squinting your eyes at him, adjusting your glasses to get a better look at him. Is Jason really a vigilante, too? You guess it would make more sense why Jason seems so calm to live with a vigilante, but who is he? It’s not long before your brain trickles back to Roy’s odd questioning over your Red Hood obsession and, now that you think about it, Jason is his height. It comes to you instantly, like a lightbulb’s gone off in your brain. Jason seems to realize this, too, because he suddenly stands up from the couch and crosses the minimal distance between the two of you. “Red Hood?” you try.

You’re now sandwiched between two tall, strong men who are, you know, fucking vigilantes. If you hadn’t fucked both of them already and been hanging around them for months, you might be a little more scared by your predicament. Okay, no, even still, you feel pretty fucking scared.

“What are we doing, Roy?” Jason asks, his deep voice stirring every fibre of your being. 

It’s like you’re not even there sandwiched between the two of them as they begin a nonverbal conversation through the intensity of their green eyes alone. 

“You tell me,” he responds.

You’re still very much naked, so is Jason, as your head bounces from side to side as you follow along with their seemingly private conversation.

“Wait,” you interject both of them, “we are talking about the two of you fucking me and not killing me, right?”

Their vibrant eyes finally glance down at you. Before you can blink, both of them take one of your arms to pin you against the wall.

“You tell no one,” Jason’s voice is somehow even deeper than it’d been not even seconds prior as he threatens you. Though it’s obviously meant to intimidate, you feel completely at ease in their hold. 

“Promise,” you answer with an easy laugh. “You do know that Roy let me talk about you, like, the entire time on our date.”

“It wasn’t a date!” Roy exclaims, loosening his grip around your wrist as he does so.

“You got a boner,” you counter easily.

Roy’s hands completely leave you as they motion to your nude form. “Because you’re hot as fuck!” he says it like it explains everything that’s going down. 

It seems like Jason’s content to watch the two of you bicker as one of his calloused hands trails along the expanse of your soft skin. 

“I guess that explains why you were my #1 fan ever since the start,” you joke lightly.

“Still am, babe.”

“#1 fan,” Jason’s eyebrows furrow together as he trails off in confusion as he trails off. “You knew about her streams?”

“You knew about them?” Roy asks back, sounding equally as confused.

Now, no one’s hands are on you.

“I walked in on one,” Jason responds through a smirk.

Roy’s jaw drops. “You’re fucking lying. Say ‘cap,’ bro.” 

Do your ears deceive you, or does Roy actually sound, dare you say, jealous?

“You got an in-person private show, Roy. All Jason saw was me squirting. Right, Jay?” you try to console him, but it doesn’t work. It seems, instead, that your words have only made things worse.

“She squirted for you?!” Roy’s voice cracks around his disbelief.

“Pretty sure she squirted for both of us in Bruce’s office,” Jason points out. The raven doesn’t seem to understand his friend’s reaction, but it doesn’t mean he isn’t going to be an asshole to him because of it. “Maybe I’m mixing this shit up, though,” he says coyly, smirking when Roy damn near whimpers.

“Jay,” he trails off pathetically. 

You think he’s about to cry or, perhaps, attempt to beat the shit out of Jason, but all he does is clash his chapped lips against Jason’s soft ones. The raven’s lips are still wet and plump from when you’d stained them with your red lipstick not even minutes prior. Now, Roy’s spit works against yours and Jason’s as he cups his friend’s inky, curly hair in between his freckled fingers.

Roy bites down on Jason’s already abused lips, earning a well-deserved, guttural moan from the man. 

Watching the two of them devour each other so wholeheartedly stirs butterflies in your stomach until you’re no longer able to contain them. Your hand easily slips down the expanse of your stomach as it’s done many times before as it slowly slinks towards where your clit twitches in anticipation. No, you can’t deny yourself for any longer. Your finger flicks lightly at your clit, watching as Jason starts to take off Roy’s gear as if he’s done it many times before and, you suppose he has. It only turns you on even more. 

Roy breaks away from Jason, but Jason continues to mouth lewdly at Roy’s pale neck. All the while, Roy’s eyes trail over your flushed form as you work at your wet pussy. 

Finally, Roy’s as bare as you and Jason.

Roy moans like a bitch under Jason’s care. The tantalizing noise alone sends an exhilarating heat down your stomach to the point you have to stop rubbing at your clit so you don’t come prematurely. 

You let out a small moan, but it’s loud enough for them to hear over their panting. 

Both of their eyes fall on you, then to your clenched fist right above your cunt. Apparently, this won’t do. Suddenly, you’re being lifted up by Roy. Your legs wrap around his torso as he draws you in for a deep, sloppy kiss. Meanwhile, Jason looms behind you, biting and sucking loving marks against your skin as they lead you into Jason’s bedroom.

You don’t have time to take in the lackluster decor, nor the edgy posters he has partially unfurled on the walls. No, your attention is solely on the two god-like men in front of you. 

“I was in the middle of eating her out before you got home,” Jason supplies as he sinks to his knees, settling in between your thighs. You can’t contain your gasp when he pulls your sitting form closer to the edge of his mattress to get a better angle. “Feel free to join in.”

He descends upon you with greater fervor than earlier, as if weaponizing your moans purely to make Roy feel like shit for ditching you. Jason slurps lewdly against your dripping cunt, lapping and sucking as obnoxiously as he can. 

It works. Roy groans as he palms at his bobbing erection, watching as you throw your head back. You swear he nearly comes right then and there from the noises, Jason’s eager mouth is producing, coupled with your unrestrained gasps of pleasure. Before you can get too close, they switch.

Roy’s tongue rigidly runs along your folds before flicking teasingly at your entrance. You can’t help but buck against his chapped lips for more, but he moves back to prevent it.

He smirks at you. “Am I forgiven, baby?” the redhead asks, voice filled with amusement.

“Fuck you, Harper,” you hiss, attempting to glare, but it’s ruined when he finally flicks at your clit. “Ah!” you exclaim. With this, you arch up into his face, grasping at his fiery locks to draw him nearer to your aching cunt. “So fucking good.”

“I’ll take that as a yes,” he responds cheekily.

Jason trails light kisses along your spread thighs before dragging Roy by a fistful of hair over to his mouth so he can taste you again. Once Jason’s had his fill, he forces Roy back down on your cunt, rubbing his eager tongue against your throbbing pussy.

It feels insane.

You’re shaking as you watch them make out with each other in between your thighs. Their tongues purposefully trickle out to include you in their sloppy session, causing you to unleash a sexy moan that stops both of them in their tracks.

They meet your half-lidded eyes with hated, hungry looks.

Thus starts the second act of the night.

Roy joins you on the mattress, scooping you up into his lap while Jason rummages around in his nightstand. 

“Roy,” you whimper.

He leans his forehead against yours with a sinful grin. “I love it when you say my name like that, baby.”

You hear a pop, then feel Jason join the two of you on the bed, but you’re entirely preoccupied with Roy’s chapped lips. His sturdy arms gently guide you to lay flat on the bed as he straddles you and pins you against the mattress with an unrelenting grip. Meanwhile, his other hand travels lower, only stopping when he finally comes into contact with your slick folds.

You slurp your slick and Jason’s spit as your mouth glides salaciously against the redhead’s, only stopping when he abruptly gasps. You pull away quickly, afraid you’ve done something wrong when you see Jason’s thick, lube-covered index finger slipping in and out of Roy’s ass.

“Oh, shit,” you breathe, taking in the erotic scene.

Not only are they putting on a show for you tonight, but it’s clear that Roy’s putting in overtime to make up for missing the date. You don’t get to watch for long, however, before the pad of Roy’s finger teases your twitching entrance.

Roy stretches you while Jason stretches him from behind until, after what seems like forever, Jason’s finally lining up behind him.

“Jay, I swear I’m stretched enough,” Roy begs, looking behind him with a slight pout that Jason rolls his eyes at. “I need you to fill me up with your cock. It’s been so fucking long, Jay,” he whines.

You can’t help but touch yourself as you watch Roy become accustomed to Jason’s impressive girth.

“Still good?” Jason asks.

You swear Roy’s drooling.

“Mmm,” he says in lieu of a response. “You’re so fucking good to me-” Cue Roy’s usual sex babbling. You can’t help but smile as you watch Jason pick up the pace with each praise Roy sings.

“You gonna leave her hanging?”

Roy’s eyes snap into focus, locking onto your gaze that’s taking in the scene in front of you greedily.

“Wouldn’t dream of it,” he says. The redhead winks down at you before shuffling around a bit to line up with your entrance. Roy rubs the tip of his cock against your wet entrance before slowly pushing in with a groan, “I don’t think I’m ever gonna get used to this shit, princess.”

You blush at the nickname, recalling the night at the Wayne Gala when he’d first bestowed it upon you.

It takes a few moments, but the three of you finally nail down the perfect rhythm. Once you do, the three of you can’t stop the cries of pleasure that it produces.

Jason fucks into Roy, who uses the momentum to fuck into you. When the redhead retreats, his ass arches further onto Jason’s cock, only to be fucked into again.  

After a few minutes, Jason makes a show of fucking Roy for you, choking him. Eventually, he forces Roy’s head upward by pulling his long red locks so their lips can clash upside down and finishes the kiss by spitting in Roy’s expectant mouth. It’s almost too much. You feel like this is hotter than any stream you’ve ever done. The raven stares him down with his sex-hazed eyes before they darkly fall across your blushing form.

“Look,” Jason forces Roy’s flushed face forward to focus on you, “she likes it when I use you like the whore you are, Roy.”

The freckled man groans, eyebrows furrowing as if he’s about to come, but Jason won’t allow it. His calloused palm captures Roy’s leaking cock as it slickly pulls out of your cunt. “Jay, please,” Roy begs with his voice cracking. Jason spanks him once on each cheek, something Roy takes greedily. “Fuck!” Roy moans. “I wanna come. I wanna come so bad- yes!” 

Jason finally releases his cock, allowing him to pump into you again before picking up his own pace with Roy’s ass.

Your nails scratch down his freckled back as he starts thrusting. It’s desperate now, like he’s primally fucking into you, completely lost in the pleasure of it all. He’s hitting all the right places inside of you, milking out slick noises in tandem with the ones Jason’s producing from Roy’s wrecked hole. It’s so fucking hot, you can hardly believe that you’re actually a part of this.

“So fucking tight,” Jason says through gritted teeth, smacking Roy’s ass once again. “Tell me you want my shit,” he practically growls as he once again picks up the pace.

You moan. Apparently, this is exactly what Roy wants as he then decides to amp it up for you.

“Please, Jay,” Roy begs easily, coy eyes never leaving you as he dirty talks Jason behind him. “I need you to fill me up with your come. I want your shit leaking out of my sore little hole, baby.”

Jason comes first. His breathing hitches and he releases inside of Roy with three brutal snaps of his hips. 

“Shit,” he groans as he pulls out of Roy with a lewd squelch.

You don’t get to catch your breath, however. No, Roy continues to give you everything he’s got.

“‘M gonna fuck you so good, baby,” Roy prattles on from above you. “You’re gonna come all over my dick like the slut you are, aren’t you?”

You bite at your lower lip as you nod. In all honesty, you’re surprised you haven’t come already. “Only if you promise to come all over me, too,” you moan.

“I can do that,” he responds with a fucked-out smirk.

Meanwhile, Jason moves to lay beside you on his side so that he can play with your nipples. He gently leans in to draw your lips against his. They move together fluidly, only disrupted momentarily by the force of Roy’s hips as he fucks into you. Soon, Jason's fingers trail lower until you can’t contain your pleasure any longer.

You’re gasping loudly at this point, unable to hold back your vocal response to Roy’s onslaught against your dripping cunt. Jason drinks the pathetic noises in as his tongue tangles lewdly with your own.

Roy whimpers as Jason’s come leaks out of his abused hole and onto his thighs. 

You feel the sticky substance wetting your inner thighs as Roy expertly thrusts into you. He leaves you writhing against the sheets and crying out their names as you climax on Roy’s pink-tipped cock.

Call it post-orgasm haze, call it stupidity, but you need his come fucked inside of you.

“Come in me,” you say airily, still coming down from your high. “Fuck it all into me, Roy,” you gasp as another icy wave wracks over your body. “I’m such a fucking come slut for you, baby. I-" You don’t even get the chance to finish your sentence before Roy’s face twists up salaciously as he fills your cunt with his warm want.

Roy collapses on your other side as the three of you catch your breath.

The rest of the night ends with sugary snacks, horror movie reruns and snuggles. 

It’s… perfect.

A/N: so glad to see you guys enjoying this au so much! last chap is outlined but not yet written soo, in the meantime, be sure to check out my pinned post for my other fics!

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[thatgoddamngingerundercut]

It must be tough for you. Things might not go the way you want them to all the time, but I'm sure they also give you a solid reason to keep living. If not, everyone would be lying on the ground already. If it's unreachable, you don't have to struggle so much, but it's worth giving it a try.

From those whose lives you've changed,

Happy Birthday, Kim Namjoon

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[maered613]

Last Line Challenge

I was tagged by @ctrldao3 AND @cam-elot so I suppose i have to do this... From a fic coming this summer so help me. Also i am cheating and selecting A line.

Luke wipes the dust off the console carved into the rock, and his heart jumps into his throat; he finds the symbol of the Force carved right in the centre.

Everyone who I would have tagged has been tagged already so ✌️

[andreisvechnikov]

To Canes Fans

Sebastian Aho, Feb 27th, 2025

I think about the playoff losses a lot. It hurt then, and it hurts now. Each one of them stays with me. It stays with us. We have scar tissue. That’s the honest truth. There’s no point in lying about it. It’s there. And it’s a part of who this team is, of who we’re going to be. And I’m thinking about it now, not because I’m taking the regular season for granted, or because we’re already thinking ahead. It’s actually the opposite of that. This year's team, we don’t want to just be talented, or a tight group, we want to have a real identity. Something that we can rely on, no matter what happens during a month, or game, or series. Something that we know is us — something that is true to Hurricane hockey, through and through.

And that thing is simple: Hard work.

I don’t care at all if you think it’s a cliché.

We’ve come up short six years in a row. And each year we try to learn from it and make changes and do something different. Sometimes maybe we’ve tried to be things we aren’t. It happens. And there are teams all around the league who have certain styles of play, or things they’re great at. And so do we. But what I want is for us to be the hardest-working team in the league. The team that doesn’t leave a stone unturned. First ones in, last ones out. That type of stuff. Because when we break through, when we finally lift the Cup, it will because of all the reps before that moment. All the hard work. That’s the way through.

Everybody is a loser until they’re a winner.

And I know we’re winners.

I know it.

And if you don’t mind, I want to shout out Coach for a second here. Roddy. Nobody gets what it means to wear this sweater more than him. He’s got this connection with fans, man…. It’s crazy. He’s a legend. I remember being eight years old and watching from Finland when Carolina won in 2006. I can still see him and Cam Ward skating around with the Cup above their heads. I got to know Roddy during my rookie year in 2016. He was the power-play coach. I didn’t know him that well and I remember so many flights where it seemed like he never looked up from the film on his computer. He’d spend hours and hours trying to figure it out, trying to put us in positions to succeed. And when he became head coach in 2018, we all got to see another side of him.

He’s an incredible speaker. He just has this way of connecting with the guys that’s completely genuine and honest. He feels like a teammate. Like he’s in the battle with you. And he sets the bar so high. He’s the hardest-working guy every day. In the gym, in the film room, he is the culture. And I wanted to talk about him because I know Canes fans appreciate him. I see the jerseys. I hear the roar when his name is announced. But maybe people around the league look at Carolina and think, How did they build that unique culture down there? Roddy is a huge part of it. 

And I thought about that a lot when I was negotiating my contract in the summer of 2023. When you have the opportunity to be a free agent, it’s a massive moment in your life as an athlete.

But every thought I had that summer led me back to one thing: Canes fans.

I saw the way Roddy was treated, the love he had for the city. I wanted that. My wife and I love living in Raleigh. This is our place. This is where we’re supposed to be. And also: I’m a bit stubborn. I’m not giving up until we win. I promise that. I think I’m a Hurricane for a reason. I know what that reason is. And I will do everything in my power to make it happen.

I think sometimes there’s this misconception about European players. That we don’t care as much about the Cup as Canadians or Americans. I can’t speak for everyone when I say this, but for me, that couldn’t be further from the truth. I watched the Cup final almost every year growing up. I remember after the Canes won, the Ducks won it in ’07. I stayed up past midnight to watch Chris Pronger hand the Cup to Teemu Selänne. I was nine years old at the time, but I knew how important that moment was. The NHL seemed far away, but I knew it was the pinnacle. And I got it in my head that that’s what I wanted. To be a champion — to share that moment with a city. 

And so I’d watch YouTube for hours and hours. Pavel Datsuyk and Patrick Kane were two of my favorites. I was kind of mesmerized by their hands, by what they could do with the puck. As a teenager I’d get out on the outdoor rink with my friends, and it’d be colder than you could ever imagine, and we’d do one-on-ones and two-on-twos until we couldn’t feel our feet.

In Oulu, my hometown, we have so much pride for Finnish hockey. I think my very first hockey memory is being in the Kärpät dressing room with my dad, Harri, and his teammates when I was three or four years old. I remember his D partner cutting a down a stick for me to use. Those vibes in the room after they’d win … it was just really incredible. It felt like a big family to me. There’s something about being with the guys after they’ve given everything out there. I don’t know. That’s just something that I’ve always loved.

I cherish every win we get here in Carolina. We know how hard it is to win in this league. And every time we get one, and we share the moment together, I’m reminded of my childhood and why I play this game. 

That first playoff run we had in 2019 was special for a lot of reasons. That was the first time I saw the real Raleigh. It had been nine seasons since the team had been in the postseason, and I remember before Game 3 of the first round, the city was just alive. When I was drafted a few years before, people told me, Oh, it’s not a hockey town. It’s a football state. It’s a basketball state. All sorts of stuff like that. I don’t know, man. You come to our rink and you tell me if it’s a hockey town. I’ve played all over the world in almost every big rink. And I’ve never been in a building that was rocking like ours was before we got on the ice against the Capitals in 2019. Never. I was standing in the tunnel and I was in the zone. I was focused. We were down 2-0 but both games were close. I felt confident. I was getting ready to get on the ice, and I could hear the crowd, but I couldn’t really hear it, if you get that? Like I’m so in the zone that there’s no noise. But I could feel it. In my legs, in my chest. There was just this thunder going through the place. I can still feel it when I think back on it.

That series, man, beating the Cup champs in Game 7, in double OT…. Awesome. And then we swept New York in the second round and it felt like we were on top of the world. I really fell in love with Raleigh that summer. Like, I got it. I understood what hockey meant to everyone

And that's why it sucked so bad that we couldn't get it done against Boston. That was such a low, after such a high. To get swept.... I'm still pissed about it. 

Honestly, every series loss since then has been brutal. We've gotten so close, and built something special year after year, but close isn't good enough. 

Close sucks. 

But we understand the nature of hockey. Only one team can win the final game of the season. It’s the hardest trophy in the world to win for a reason. The only thing you can do is use the heartbreak as motivation. And so we keep going, we keep giving it our all. And this is where I really need to shout out our fans, because a lot of you have been showing up since the dark days, when we were rebuilding. The cool thing about our building is it's almost like a neighborhood. You come to the rink, and you see the same faces during warmups. The same families. You guys are a part of our group, and you keep us going. 

So we’re here again with a pretty darn good hockey team. I love this group. I really do.

We’re led by our Captain, Jordan Staal. He might not be on the scoresheet every night (he has been lately!!), but he’s our engine. When there’s a big draw to take, or penalty to kill, he’s just got this other gear. When I was a young player in the league, I’d look at him as somebody to be. That effort is how you win in the NHL. The goals and the points and all that, it matters. Don’t get me wrong. But when spring comes around, and the game changes a little in the playoffs…. It’s the stuff you can’t write down that makes the difference. Our captain is that guy.

And we’re a group that’s full of strong individuals, full of fighters. Freddie came back the other week and, man, it’s really inspiring to see how hard he’s worked to get himself back to the level he’s at. It’s brutal to see your brother go down like he did, and all the health stuff he’s had to overcome, he’s been through hell. But he never gave up. I’d see him in the gym all the time and you knew how much he was giving to get back to help us, to be there for Raleigh.

Now we’ve got some new faces in the building, and it’s an exciting time to be here. From the front office down, I think we all want the same thing. That’s a good feeling. It’s never easy seeing friends go. But that’s part of the game, part of life. We’ve got to keep going here through the end of the season and try to finish as strong as possible. We’re taking it one game at a time, doing every little thing to get better and better. And when the time comes, and the building gets even louder, and the games matter even more, I can promise you one thing, Raleigh: Close isn’t good enough.

Thanks for all the love. Let’s make some memories.

—Sebastian