#refills are quick and easy

[quarterlifekitty]

Weaknesses part 5: complexes

Note: this is jokes!! Please don’t take my cartoon pathologizing too seriously!

cw: some daddy kink level stuff

Gaz has a soft spot for girls who suffer from oldest sister syndrome. Girls that are a little world weary and too grown up at too young an age from caring for others while not having people to rely on. He just loves how pleasantly surprised you are literally every time he does something helpful that you didn’t ask him to do. Doing the dishes. Spackling that hole from the picture you took down. Refilling the air in the tires. Bleaching the bathtub. Very small things— but you’re so used to being the only one who can stay on top of things. Literally the high he gets from telling you to sit down and relax is unparalleled.

Soap is, quite frankly, into girls who grew up thinking they were ugly. It’s a terribly selfish, but he likes telling you all of the dirty things he thinks of doing to you, how he feels like someone’s knocked him upside the head when you enter a room in a new outfit, how he has to take a cold shower every time you’re going out to some event and he gets to see you dressed up. Honestly, he has to take the cold showers pretty regularly. Seeing how you’re flustered, and you don’t 100% believe the things he says— so he has to put in the time to make you believe him. You’re the kind of girl boys would dare each other to ask out in middle school, and now Soap has the absolute pleasure of convincing you that sometimes you make him so turned on that he thinks he’s about to throw up.

Ghost likes outcast girls. He likes how you eye him with a little bit of suspicion when he chooses to hang around you. He sort of gets this idea in his head that he’s the only one that can handle your eccentricities— handle you. That other people are afraid to approach you but he’s not afraid of anything. That his interest in you is because honestly, he has a much more refined palate than any of the shitheads you’re surrounded by. And you know what? He likes the idea of you as a couple being the scary, freak ass couple. Two lone wolves becoming mates.

Price likes former gifted students. He loves that you’re talented and quick, yes, but he also can’t help but get excited by all of that pressure that’s on you— that you put on yourself. He gets to be the one that relieves it. He’s the one that gets to lavish you in praise, and he’s also the one who gets to pin you down and force you to take it easy for a little while. He loves gently handling any mistakes or missteps, rationally perceived or otherwise. Because he can tell no one’s ever bothered to treat you so gently, have they, sweetheart? They’ve just been content to push you to your limits and have you run yourself ragged because you’re special. You are, he won’t deny it— but you’re also a little thing that hasn’t seen enough nurturing, in his eyes.

König loves so called “high maintenance” girls. Girls with high standards who know what they want, who have gone through some partners that couldn’t take the heat. He gets a very unique sense of control out of it— knowing all of your rules, rituals, likes, dislikes. Like Ghost, he likes thinking of himself as the only person who knows how to handle you— that everyone before him has just been unworthy of you. That he is strong where others have been weak. And you know what? It’s not rotten work. Not to him. Not if it’s you. He’s just built different.

Nikolai… I’m just going to say it. He likes girls with daddy issues. He kinda throws his whole self into relationships at times, and he likes it when he can be your everything. Your love, your friend, your hero, your source of approval from an older man. And he loves a brat. Because he knows you only act that way because someone didn’t pay attention to his special girl in the past. You’re testing him— daring him, unsheathing your claws to see if he’ll flinch and he never will. He’ll endure it all and chip at your defenses until you’re the soft, satisfied, sweet girl he knows you really want to be. Lavishing you with praise and attention, bragging about you to anyone who will listen. He wants you to have a complete breakdown because you’ve been holding it all in and putting up walls for so long that you don’t even know how to cope with being in the arms of someone who will always catch you when you fall.

[split-spectrum]

YOU'VE GOT TO LEARN

Pairing: Joel Miller x Fem!Reader

Tags: extremely dubious consent, non-con elements, explicit sexual content, exhibitionism, age gap, established relationship, jealousy, possessive!joel, softdom!joel, unprotected sex, alcohol, hair pulling

Length: 3.3K

Summary: At a client's house party, you catch yourself getting jealous of other eyes on Joel. Joel pulls you aside to show you exactly what he thinks of that.

This is my first time writing for Joel Miller, so please go easy on me <3

☆☆☆

What is it about Joel that makes him most attractive when he's stuck somewhere he doesn't want to be?

You tip back the last of your whiskey sour, gazing at the tight creases in the corners of his eyes as he nods along with the blond guy who's been talking for twenty painful minutes about the crypto market. Joel is leaning back, arms folded over his chest, his big shoulders pushing at the seams of his denim shirt.

He once told you that no one besides you could tell his emotions on his face. You'd laughed and called bullshit at the time, telling him every thought in that pretty head of his showed up plain as day on his face, but right now it doesn't seem to matter. He's been looking like he'd swallowed glass since this guy started talking, and it doesn't seem to make a bit of difference to him.

When Joel had asked if you wanted to come along to the holiday party one of his clients was having at his house, you'd said yes even after hearing that the guy was 'kind of an idiot' and you'd probably be 'bored to tears'. Joel would have skipped it, but unfortunately it was one of his biggest clients, and the invitation wasn't one he could politely decline.

Right now, though, you're sort of wishing you'd listened to him. The party stopped being fun somewhere around the second MLM scheme that had been pitched to you, and you're now counting the minutes until you'll hit the mark Joel set on the drive there: "Least a couple hours - then we can head out."

The guy takes a short pause, then launches into another tirade on bitcoin, and you realize you're going to need another drink to get through it. Joel's arm slips from around your waist as you pull away.

"Be right back, fellas. I'm going to get a refill."

Joel's brows lift as you leave him behind. "Now hold on there. Wouldn't be much of a gentleman if I let you get your own drink-"

You wave him off, trying to hold in a smirk. "No really, I need to take a lap. Stretch my legs."

He licks his lips, looks off to the side for a second before calling after you, "Grab me one on your way back, will ya?"

You smile innocently. "You got it."

After your host declines your offer to get him something, you head to the kitchen, making a little chit chat on your way to the well-stocked fridge. You decide to get Joel's beer before you return to the open bar to ask for another drink of your own. You hook your knuckles around the neck of a Modelo, no sooner closing the door to the fridge before you glance back in Joel's direction, seeing he's been joined by a few more people.

It isn't surprising. Joel's the type of guy who tends to draw attention, and not just because of his looks. He's the guy who's in charge, even when he's not in charge. People gravitate toward him; just something about his presence that makes him the most interesting thing in every room.

In spite of that, your attention isn't on him at the moment. It's on the girl making moon eyes beside him. She's tossing a long, shiny ponytail behind her shoulder and grinning ear to ear despite the fact that bitcoin boy hasn't stopped talking.

Picking up a bottle opener, you pop the cap off the beer in your hand by muscle memory, not able to tear your eyes off of them. Joel's attention is still on the host, but when she says something to him, you watch him pull his chin back to nod, holding her in the corner of his eye to give a quick smile.

Kelly, you remember. That's her name. She's the receptionist at the client's office, and she's probably seen more of Joel this month than you have.

You watch as she cranks up her smile another thousand watts, laughing at something one of the other guys in the group has said. Kelly, you think. No. Probably spells it with an i. Kelli. Probably dots it with a heart.

Your face is starting to warm up, and when someone on the other side of the kitchen counter gently asks if you're alright, you clear your throat, then reply that you're fine as you quickly open the fridge for a second Modelo. It's time for you to slow down on the whiskey.

As you make your way back to the group, you catch Kelly/Kelli's eyes and give her a subdued smile. She blinks and smiles back, suddenly looking very shy.

"Now what did I miss?" you ask, when the men dissolve into laughter.

Henry, one of the contractors under Joel, shakes his head. "It ain't worth repeating in the presence of a lady."

The host interjects, "So what do you call Kelly?"

Henry puts an arm around her shoulder. "Aw, she's heard it all before, haven'tcha?"

"That don't mean she wants to hear it from you!" one of the other men shouts, and there's another round of laughter while you bite your lip, watching Joel's eyes as they dip to Henry's arm.

You wrap your lips around the tip of the bottle in your hand, letting the taste of the beer give your mouth an excuse to look sour. Henry's hand is dropping from Kelly's shoulder down to her waist, and while the conversation carries on, Joel leans in close so that only Henry - and you - can hear.

"Cool it, Henry."

"Huh?" comes the slow reply, as he pretends not to have understood him.

Joel just lifts his brows, and that's all it takes for Henry to back off, looking a little sheepish as he unwinds himself from Kelly, who looks more than a little relieved.

Henry turns to you, suddenly trying to make small talk, to save face. "Have you two met? This's our girl Kelly. She takes good care of us, don'tcha, sweetheart?"

You give a polite smile. "We've met. Nice to see you, again. Both of you."

"Uh huh," Henry answers half-heartedly before he wanders off, perhaps to join another conversation, or just to find another drink.

Kelly gives you another polite smile, then as the host starts to back away, bringing the rest of the group with him, she goes along with the crowd. Before she leaves, though, she softly murmurs to Joel, "Thanks for that."

He answers with a stiff nod, but it's more than enough to put the stars back in her eyes as she walks away, leaving the two of you alone.

You're biting your lip again, practically chewing on it, as you dangle Joel's beer by the throat, handing it over to him.

"Thank you," he says, then tips it back immediately.

You don't reply, lost in thought, but pretending nonchalance as you watch the group leave.

"Meant what I said, though," Joel adds in your silence. "Shoulda let me get it. I don't like to have you wanderin' around on your own. Not with this bunch of degenerates."

You smirk. "What, like Henry?"

"For one, yeah," he says, turning to face you now that the sounds of the party are fading into the background. "Lookin' the way you do, won't be able to keep their eyes or their hands off ya."

You laugh him off, but can't pretend that his voice isn't settling right in the bottom of your stomach. He's standing a little closer, now, and you can smell the alcohol on his breath, mixed with the spice of his cologne. Something about him talking this way puts some boldness into you, and your words come out a bit more reckless than they should.

"Well, maybe you should have asked Kelly to get your drink, then."

He looks dumbfounded for a moment, and you widen your smile to show you're joking.

"I mean, I'm sure she would have," you go on, digging yourself deeper even as your heart kicks up faster. If you'd switched to beer two drinks ago, you probably would have explained yourself better. You would have insisted it was just a joke, because she so clearly has a crush on him. But your words are just swimming in all that whiskey.

"Cute little thing like that," you say, shrugging. "Probably don't mind her 'taking care of you', do ya?"

Joel's eyes are fixed on you, voice easing down into his chest when he asks softly, warningly, "What did you just say?"

He's turned all the way toward you, and all at once the room feels so much smaller, your face so much hotter. He's waiting for an answer, and your breath is caught high in your throat. "I-uh... it was just... nothing."

He's very slowly setting down his beer, looking down to a side table. "Wasn't nothing; I heard it." He looks back up at you, pinning you hard where you stand. "Now repeat it. Wanna make sure I heard you right."

You swallow, mouth dry. "I nn-nothing, I just said..." You force a crooked smile that you know he isn't buying for a second. "Y'know... she's- she's pretty cute, and maybe you... maybe she oughta... 'cause maybe you want her to..."

Your babbling doesn't impress him. He's just staring at you under a darkened brow. He opens his mouth to say something, but the motion of someone else entering the room catches your eye and you snap defensively before he can say anything.

"Joel, I didn't mean-"

He follows your gaze, then turns away and shuts you up with a wide, heavy palm sliding to the small of your back. "C'mere," he says. "C'mon." And the way he breathes it as he guides you out of the room and down the hall, you don't argue.

He finds a bathroom and pushes you inside. While you're looking over his shoulder to make sure no one sees you going in together, he's staring straight ahead, and he closes the door with one hand, still holding you with the other.

"I'm... sorry," you confess as soon as the door closes. "That was stupid. I don't know why I said it."

"Yeah," he grunts, crowding you up against the closed door. "You do."

The way he has you held close, arm around your waist and words warm against your mouth, you'd normally try to kiss him right about now. But looking into his eyes, you know there's no kiss waiting for you on his lips.

He's mad, and you're a little scared. Not scared of him, but scared of what he might do at a party where people might hear. People that he has to work with on Monday.

He isn't drunk, but he's had a few, and your fear ratchets up when his hand slides to your backside, gripping your ass and kneading it as he growls, "You think I give a goddamn about some teenager?"

Despite the way he's manhandling you through your dress, you can't help but roll your eyes. "She's not a teenager."

She isn't really that much younger than you are. And with Joel in his fifties, the thought has crossed your mind that he might just be keeping you around because he got a thing for younger women. You'd just never said anything out loud. Until tonight.

He stops, pulls back. "Alright, guess I'm not bein' clear enough."

He takes you by both arms, pushes you against the sink so you're looking at yourself in the mirror. Behind you, he starts unbuckling his belt.

"Joel..." you whisper, heat pulsing through you just from the sound of the metal clinking. You know you should ask him to stop - is the door even fucking locked? - but you can't get any other words out besides his name.

He slides a hand under your dress, pushing it up and over the swell of your ass. He doesn't slow down, doesn't even run his hand over your skin. He just pushes your panties to the side, pressing the head of his cock right up against your pussy, holding it there as he grits against your ear, "Guess I gotta show you where I want to be."

He pushes the thick head inside you, wrapping one arm around your stomach to keep you from falling forward. His other hand is flat on the sink, not playing with you, not easing anything. He doesn't give you any prep, just shoves in slowly, his cock stretching you all in one go.

You hiss, brow pinching. He didn't even let you get wet enough to take him. You can feel every damn move he makes inside you as he shifts his hips closer to pin you hard against the cold edge of the sink. When he's all the way in, you watch your mouth pop open in the mirror as you take a few panting breaths. The stretch is almost unbearable, but feeling so full of him, you don't want to stop.

He eases out, just a couple inches to coat himself in your slick, then presses back in even harder. You feel like your lungs are going to give out from how tight your gasps are getting.

"Fuck, Joel... hurts," you whine.

He slowly slides you off of him, then feeds it right back in.

"I know it does, honey," he breathes against your neck. "I know it does."

His deep voice makes you pulse around his cock and he drags his big, calloused hand down to the front of your dress, lifting it up just far enough to see your pussy, stuffed full of him. You're leaking down the sides of his cock, glistening in the dim light of the bathroom.

"See that?" he asks, unmoving. "That's where I wanna be. You hear me?"

Giving a shaky nod of your head, you whimper, "Yes."

He starts to piston in and out of you, and you can only watch. You close your eyes tight when he speeds up a little. "It's... mm- it's too much."

He doesn't change his pace. "Ain't about feelin' good. You've got to learn."

He groans when your pussy clenches around him, and you follow with an answering moan as the tension in your muscles starts to fade. You're soaking down both sides of your inner thighs as he opens you up further.

When you've dissolved into whimpering his name, he hooks one arm around your leg from behind, lifting it up so that you're spread wider. His other hand is still holding up your dress.

"Look at that," he grunts, making an obscene display of his cock fucking into your pussy. "Look how fucking hard you make me, baby."

You whine again, struck dumb by how good he feels with every snap of his hips. "God, feels so good... please..."

He's dragging his teeth against your neck when he replies, "Please?"

"Please, Joel. Feels so fucking good," you repeat, eyes closed.

You want him to fuck you properly, to bend you over and make you take him, to use his fingers - to let you use yours - anything; it doesn't matter. You're so worked up, you just need a little more.

"M'not gonna give you what you want, darlin'," he answers. "Don't work like that."

You can't help but loose a plaintive moan, even knowing you deserve it. "Baby, please-"

He drops your knee, letting your leg come down to the floor as he bends you over the sink. When he starts to fuck you for real, you can't hold it together anymore, softly pleading and whining for more, begging him not to stop, opening your eyes to watch him in the mirror as he starts to lose himself, too.

Until a knock at the door jars you right out of it.

"Is anybody in there?"

Joel doesn't even slow down. Just flattens his palm along your lower back to bend you back over after you jolt up.

"Joel-" you hiss. But he keeps giving you exactly what you need, and your eyes roll back.

"Hello?"

He slides a warm hand down the open neckline of your dress, kneading your breast as he looks at you in the mirror. His brown eyes are stern and steady. "Answer."

He keeps feeding you his cock, and you hiccup, legs shaking as you whisper, "I- I don't..."

"Go on and tell 'em. You're busy."

Fuck fuck fuck. "Uhh, s-someone's in here!"

Your voice comes out strained and airy, and you wait for the reply while Joel kisses the skin of your shoulder, sliding the front of your dress down.

"Joel, it's... somebody is..."

"Nothin' in here that I wanna hide," he growls, pushing his hips right up against your ass as he circles a thumb around one of your nipples.

"Fuck, Joel..." The silence outside has been long enough that the person is probably gone, but your pulse is still pounding, and he's making it so fucking hard to think. "Oh my god, yes..."

He's quietly panting, lifts his head long enough to say, "Understand now, pretty girl?"

"Mm..."

"This here's right where I wanna be. Nowhere else," he grunts, pressing his weight down on you, the squelching sounds between your bodies getting louder than your moans. Your eyes are drawn up to the mirror, watching the veins in his neck tighten as he fucks into you harder and harder. "You got it?"

You frantically nod, desperately near the edge of coming. "Fuck, yes, mhm..."

"Maybe I oughta fill you up right here, leave you with somethin' to think about."

"N-no," you stutter, almost sounding like you're sobbing your words. "P-please, I get it. I heard what you s-said."

He has to let you come. You don't care that you were acting up, making something out of nothing. You don't care what got him mad at you. All you can think about is how flushed his chest is beneath the open collar of his shirt, how tight his grip is, how stiff his jaw is set. You just want to listen to that throaty growl, feel him mercilessly fucking you a little while longer. That's all it would take. Just a little bit...

"Fuck-"

Joel pulls out, hand tightening into a fist around himself. You slump against the sink.

"Goddamn, baby. Almost got me, there."

You're on the verge of tears, shuddering with wild breaths. "No, fuck, Joel, please please please-"

He grips a handful of your ass, fingers brushing through your wetness and making you whimper.

"Told you, I ain't giving you what you want."

You hear him zip up his jeans, and then his hand is back at your ass, but this time he's pulling your panties back into place and tugging your dress down.

"Never gonna learn that way."

You whine pitifully, knowing you brought this on yourself, but still pleading under your breath, face drawn tight with frustration.

He helps you stand up properly, giving you his arm to steady yourself. You straighten your dress, cleaning up your appearance in the mirror, and eventually you're able to leave the bathroom, walking out on trembling legs.

He gives you a smirk as you leave the hallway, and something in you finally snaps. Maybe it's a little unfair, but you know exactly what to say to knock that smirk off his face.

You lean in and whisper in his ear, "Guess you didn't want me that bad after all, or you would have finished."

And all of ten minutes later, you're in the cab of his truck. You're screaming his name as you come all over his cock, hands fisted in his hair, tugging it hard while he pumps you full of his cum, cursing you the whole time.

Turns out, he's the one who's never gonna learn.

--

A/N: Thanks for reading! I don't have a taglist for Joel, but I'll add one if I ever write for him again. Hope you enjoyed! :)

Masterlist

[goldfades]

Please please please protective Joe over postpartum wifey 👏🏻

ofcc!! here it is, my love <3

There was a time when life felt like a perfectly thrown spiral — smooth, certain, easy to catch. Joe made everything look like that, honestly. Sundays on the field, Saturdays back home, even the lazy Tuesday nights when he’d crawl into bed still smelling faintly like grass and laundry detergent and something that just was him.

You built a whole life on those little certainties. A white house with black shutters. A golden retriever named Beau who never quite grew into his paws. And now, tucked into the curve of Joe’s arm, a baby girl with his sleepy blue eyes blinking up at the world like it was brand new and way too bright.

It was supposed to feel perfect — or at least that’s what all the books and well-meaning advice said. But nobody really warned you about this part. About how raw it would feel, the way your body and mind would shift like continents no one could map. About how tired your bones could get, or how sometimes you looked in the mirror and hardly recognized the girl staring back.

Joe saw it, though. He always did.

He moved through the house like a man on a mission lately, whisper-quiet but everywhere all at once — refilling your water bottle before you realized it was empty, pulling you in tighter at night like he could keep the world out with just his arms. He was careful with you in a way that wasn’t suffocating, but fierce, like he was guarding something sacred and breakable.

And maybe you were, in a way.

Joe was a patient man. He had to be — quarterback wasn’t a job for the impulsive, the hot-headed. It was a role built on timing, on seeing a flash of movement and trusting it, threading the ball through chaos with an almost stubborn kind of calm.

But nothing had ever tested his patience like today.

Because today, for the first time, the guys were coming over to meet her. His daughter.

You were curled up on the couch, fresh out of the shower with your hair damp and your skin soft and flushed. The baby was snuggled against your chest, making those small, content newborn sighs that Joe swore he could listen to for the rest of his life and never get tired.

And he was on edge. Not because he didn’t trust his teammates — they were his brothers, in every way that mattered. But because this — this little piece of the life you built together — wasn’t game film or post-win beers or locker room jokes.

This was you. This was her.

And Joe Burrow, the man who could stand in the pocket while a 300-pound linebacker bore down on him without flinching, suddenly found himself running scenarios in his mind like some half-crazed security guard.

He adjusted the throw blanket over your lap. Checked the thermostat again. Made sure the baby’s little hat was pulled low enough over her ears, even though you were sitting inside with the heater humming low. He hovered, adjusting pillows, bringing you your water bottle with a bendy straw tucked in so you wouldn’t have to move too much.

“You’re fussing,” you murmured, voice lazy and warm with affection.

Joe just shrugged, standing above you with his hands on his hips, chewing the inside of his cheek like he was gearing up for a press conference.

“They’re not gonna hold her unless you say it’s okay,” he said, dead serious. “They’ll wash their hands first.”

He ticked it off like a checklist. “No strong cologne. No loud voices. And if she gets fussy—”

“She won’t,” you interrupted, smiling because you could tell he needed it.

But Joe wasn’t so sure. Babies were unpredictable. Teammates even more so. And Joe? Joe didn’t like unpredictable when it came to the two people he loved most in the whole damn world.

The doorbell rang.

Beau barked from his spot by the window, tail wagging excitedly. Joe shot you a quick look — a silent, are you good with this? — and only when you nodded did he open the door.

Ja'Marr was first in, grinning from ear to ear, a pack of diapers slung under one arm like a football. A few others trickled in behind him — Sam, Tee, a couple of the offensive linemen — all of them with that same reverent, wide-eyed look guys got when they saw a newborn up close.

Joe moved fast, intercepting the herd before they could even make it two steps inside. “Shoes off,” he said briskly, nodding toward the mat. “Wash your hands.”

He pointed toward the powder room like a dad corralling a team of unruly Boy Scouts. There was a second of stunned silence — and then laughter, low and easy, but respectful.

They knew better than to mess around with Joe right now.

One by one, they complied, teasing each other about it but following orders all the same. Joe hovered by the couch while you adjusted the baby's position, brushing a kiss against the top of her head before you offered a soft, “You wanna come say hi?”

Even then, Joe stayed close — a silent wall between you and the door, the human equivalent of a velvet rope.

The guys took turns, keeping a cautious distance, most of them too nervous to even ask to hold her. Ja'Marr cracked a few jokes under his breath about Joe looking ready to deck anyone who breathed wrong.

He wasn’t wrong. Joe’s eyes stayed sharp, tracking every movement, every laugh, every time someone leaned in a little too close. His hand hovered near your shoulder the whole time — not touching, but there, a steady reminder that you weren’t doing this alone.

When the baby whimpered once, just a little squeak of protest at all the unfamiliar voices, Joe reacted before you even had the chance — plucking her gently from your arms with that easy, practiced motion he had already mastered.

“She’s good,” he said, voice a shade softer now, one hand cradling her tiny head as he pressed her to his chest.

The room went still.

It was one thing to see Joe Burrow command a huddle. It was another to see him sway, slow and absent-minded, in the middle of his living room with a baby tucked against his heart like she was the whole playbook and the end zone all wrapped up in one.

You leaned back, your heart stretching wide and aching with it — the fierce, stubborn tenderness of this man you married.

The visit didn’t last long. Joe made sure of that. An hour, tops. No overstaying. No “let’s hang out awhile.” When the goodbyes started, Joe stood by the door again, thanking each of them with a handshake.

After the last car pulled away, he locked the door, turned, and exhaled like he hadn’t breathed properly all afternoon.

You were still on the couch, baby sleeping against your chest again, your head tipping back into the pillows. Joe crossed the room in three strides, crouching in front of you like he needed to be eye level, like he needed you to feel it when he said: “You did so good, baby.”

It wasn’t just about today. It was about all of it.

The way your body had carried her. The way you endured the long nights, the painful moments nobody talked about. The way you fought to smile when your heart felt shaky and raw.

He reached out, cupping the side of your face, brushing his thumb over your cheek with infinite gentleness.

“We’re good now,” he whispered, like a promise. “We’re good.”

You closed your eyes, sinking into the safety of it — the safety of him. Of knowing that no matter what storms came, no matter how unpredictable the world could be, Joe would be right here.

Arms up. Heart open.

Always, always guarding the things he loved most.

[lucy-literates]

Well, Lewis would be possessive of his girl 🤭

Next idea is again with a younger reader (28 years old) and she is Roscoes nanny and they fall in love :)

Greetings :)

A/N: I'm glad you enjoyed it! Hopefully, you enjoy this one too! Ibox is open :)

The Heart He Didn't See Coming

You were hired to take care of Roscoe. That was it.

Just a temporary gig—two months, max—while Lewis figured out travel schedules and recovered from back-to-back races. You’d been recommended by a friend of his physio, and your background in animal behavior and gentle energy made the decision easy.

Still, Lewis hadn’t expected you.

He hadn’t expected the way Roscoe took to you almost immediately, curling at your feet within twenty minutes of meeting you, snorting contentedly as you scratched the perfect spot behind his ear like you'd known him for years.

And he definitely hadn’t expected the sound of your laughter in his kitchen to feel like something he’d been missing.

“You sure you’re not feeding him treats under the table?” Lewis asked one morning, as Roscoe followed you around with that adoring, bulldog loyalty that had taken even him months to earn.

“I only give him carrots,” you replied, turning to him with a grin. “You’re the one sneaking him bites of your toast, champion.”

His smirk deepened. “Can’t help it. He looks at me like I hung the moon.”

You tilted your head. “So do you, sometimes.”

Lewis blinked. You didn’t even realize what you’d said—or maybe you did, because you turned away quickly to refill Roscoe’s water bowl, humming like it hadn’t just made his chest go tight.

That was the beginning of the ache.

It wasn’t supposed to be romantic.

He was older. Busier. Constantly surrounded by people and noise and cameras. You were quieter. Sunshine and calm. Someone who moved through life like it didn’t owe you anything, and still, you chose joy.

But when you walked Roscoe through the paddock at Silverstone—laughing as he tried to chase a golf cart—and handed Lewis a little cloth-wrapped lunch you’d packed for him, just in case the catering was late, he’d stood there for a moment too long, something warm rising in his throat.

“You’re ridiculous,” he’d said softly.

“Is that your way of saying thank you?”

He smiled. “Maybe.”

After that, things got blurry around the edges.

One evening in Monaco, the sky cracked open unexpectedly.

You and Roscoe had gone for your usual walk along the waterfront, but the rain hit faster than forecast. By the time you got home, soaked and laughing, Roscoe was a damp loaf of contentment at your side.

Lewis opened the door before you even knocked.

“Jesus, you’re drenched—get in, quick.” He grabbed a towel and gently rubbed Roscoe down while you toed off your wet sneakers.

You were dripping in the hallway, mascara smudged slightly, Lewis’s hoodie shoved into your arms without him thinking twice.

It was warm. Soft. Smelled like cedarwood and whatever expensive cologne he wore sparingly but perfectly.

“Go change,” he said, “you’ll catch a cold.”

You returned a few minutes later, barefoot and wearing the hoodie over your leggings. Roscoe was curled in his usual spot by the couch, and Lewis looked up at you with something unreadable in his eyes.

“You should’ve called me,” he said. “I would’ve picked you up.”

You blinked. “You were busy. Besides, it’s just rain.”

He shook his head, then patted the spot next to him on the couch. “Come sit. You’re always running around after my wellbeing. Let me return the favour for once.”

You hesitated—but then sat.

You didn’t mean to fall asleep. Not really. But the hoodie was warm and Roscoe was snoring and Lewis’s hand moved gently over your shoulder while you listened to him talk about his next race strategy in that low, rhythmic tone.

When you woke up, your head was on his chest.

And his arm was around you.

Things changed after that.

Not drastically. Just... quietly.

Lingering glances. Soft touches. A new depth to your late-night conversations. He started asking you questions that had nothing to do with Roscoe: What did you want from life? Had you ever been in love? What scared you?

You didn’t ask him the same things out loud. You didn’t need to. You watched the way he talked to his team, how gently he moved around people, how he stood on the edge of the ocean sometimes like he was still searching for something.

One night, as you handed him a mug of peppermint tea, he said it—so softly you nearly missed it:

“You make this place feel like home.”

Your breath caught.

“It’s because you finally stopped running,” you whispered.

There was a pause. Then his hand found yours.

“No,” he said. “It’s because I found something worth staying for.”

You kissed him a few seconds later.

It wasn’t rushed. It was the kind of kiss that built over weeks. Careful. Reverent. Your fingers slipped into his curls, and he hummed softly against your mouth like the moment had been waiting for you both.

Roscoe snorted in his sleep. You both laughed.

The next few weeks were a blur of quiet touches and shared mornings.

He kissed your shoulder while you prepped Roscoe’s meals. You slid handwritten notes into his travel bags. You didn’t go public—not right away—but his team knew. And they all smiled when you were around, like you were exactly what he needed.

But then the press found out.

Photos. Speculation. Headlines: “Roscoe’s Nanny, Hamilton’s New Flame?”

It wasn’t cruel—but it was invasive. You panicked. You didn’t want to be seen as a trophy, or someone temporary.

“I never wanted to be a scandal,” you said one night, eyes shiny. “I didn’t want to be a story someone clicks on.”

Lewis shook his head and crossed the room to hold you.

“You’re not a scandal,” he said firmly. “You’re not a story. You’re the person who brings Roscoe his toy at bedtime and sings along to my awful shower playlists. You’re the one thing in my life that feels real.”

You blinked. He tucked a hand beneath your chin.

“And if the world can’t see that… then I’ll show them.”

Three days later, he posted a photo.

No caption. Just you, Roscoe, and him on a balcony, wrapped in blankets, sipping tea. Your head on his shoulder. Roscoe snoozing across both your laps.

It went viral in seconds.

But the response shocked you.

“This is the softest thing I’ve ever seen.” “I want what they have.” “Protect this trio at all costs.”

Your inbox flooded with kindness. People saw you. And more importantly—they saw the love.

A few months later, Lewis took you to a beach on your day off. It was quiet. Peaceful. Roscoe ran in wide circles, barking happily at the waves.

You sat on a blanket, his arm around you, sun low in the sky.

Then he called Roscoe over.

There was a velvet box tied to Roscoe’s collar.

Your heart skipped.

“It’s not a ring,” Lewis said quickly. “Not yet. I just... wanted to ask if we can keep doing this. You. Me. Roscoe. All of it.”

You opened the box. Inside was a small gold charm: a tiny dog paw next to a heart.

“Yes,” you said, instantly.

He kissed you again, deeper this time.

Roscoe barked once. Loudly. Offended at being ignored.

You both laughed against each other’s mouths.

And maybe love hadn’t come in the way you expected. But it arrived exactly when it was meant to.

With muddy pawprints, fresh tea, and the softest man you’d ever known.

[melanchoire]

CAN'T STOP THE HIGH ──── yu jimin.

── ( 🎞️ ) you thought shamelessly flirting with your girlfriend’s friends at her birthday party was a harmless prank to get a rise out of her, you inadvertently unleash her darker side, and now karina is turning the tables: now, you're at her mercy, forced to endure a series of increasingly provocative and humbling tasks as she reshapes your behavior, using your deepest desires against you in a humiliating power play designed to teach you a lesson you won’t soon forget.

pairing. dom!girlfriend!gp karina x sub!girlfriend!fem reader

warning(s). cum eating, deep throat, degradation, hair pulling, throat fucking.

word count. 3,6k

requested? yes.

the music throbbed in your chest, a relentless bassline mirroring the frantic beat of your heart. balloons bobbed, streamers shimmered, and the air crackled with the infectious energy of a birthday celebration. karina, radiant in a dress that seemed to catch and amplify the fairy lights strung across her apartment, was the epicenter of it all. her laughter, bright and unrestrained, echoed through the room, drawing everyone in.

except you.

you stood near the overflowing snack table, ostensibly refilling your plate, but mostly just trying to look like you weren’t completely wilting inside. karina, your girlfriend, the woman you loved with a fervor that sometimes scared you, was surrounded by her friends. and not just surrounded, she was engulfed. they were a vibrant, boisterous mass, each vying for her attention, each basking in the warmth of her smile.

you tried to tell yourself it was silly, childish even, to feel this way. it was her birthday. she deserved to be happy, to be fêted. you should be happy for her. but a gnawing unease had taken root in your stomach hours ago, a cold knot that tightened with every shared joke, every lingering hug, every inside reference you weren’t privy to.

you watched as karina threw her head back, her laughter ringing out as yeji said something. yeji, with her easy confidence and effortless charm, always seemed to command karina’s attention. it wasn’t that you didn’t like yeji, you did. all of karina’s friends were great. it was just… you wanted karina’s attention too. you wanted to be the one making her laugh, the one she sought out in a crowded room.

but she was busy. terribly, wonderfully busy. and you were left standing on the periphery, feeling like an afterthought. you’d tried earlier, nudging into the conversation, offering a silly compliment about her outfit, but she'd just smiled distractedly, said a quick “thanks, babe!” and then turned right back to her friends.

jealousy, that ugly green monster, reared its head. the green-eyed monster gnawed at you. you knew it was irrational. it was her birthday, of course she wanted to be with her friends. but the constant stream of attention she gave everyone but you was suffocating. you felt invisible, a decorative wallflower at your own girlfriend’s party.

an idea, reckless and fueled by wounded pride, began to bloom in your mind. it was petty, childish, and probably destined to backfire spectacularly. but the thought of letting karina experience even a fraction of the isolation you were feeling was intoxicating.

okay, here we go.

operation: make karina jealous, was a go.

you took a deep breath and plastered a smile on your face. you spotted giselle near the speakers, bobbing her head to the music. “hey, giselle! great party, right?’ you said, your voice a little too loud.

giselle turned, her eyes widening in what you hoped was surprise, but might have just been mild amusement. “hey! yeah, it’s a blast. you look great, by the way.”

hou grinned, a touch too wide. “thanks. so do you. that dress really suits you.” you knew giselle was the flirtatious one of the group. maybe leaning in.

the conversation flowed easily enough. giselle was witty and engaging, and for a moment, you almost forgot your earlier grievances. you laughed at her jokes, made a few of your own, and even managed to make her blush with a well–placed compliment about her dancing skills.

then you deliberately caught winter’s eye. winter, with her quiet intensity and undeniable beauty, was currently deep in conversation with a group of people, but you saw her glance over. you gave her a playful wink and tilted your head, inviting her to join you.

winter hesitated for a moment, then excused herself and came over. “hey,” she said, her voice soft. “what’s up?”

“just enjoying the music.” you said, your gaze lingering on her a little longer than necessary. “and the company.”

you could feel karina’s gaze on you, but you stubbornly refused to look in her direction. you bantered with winter, letting your hand brush against hers as you reached for a chip. you noticed the way winter’s eyes sparkled when you told her she had a great sense of style, a style you normally fawned over Karina with. you knew you were being manipulative, but you just wanted her to feel a little like you did.

next, you moved on to ningning, complimenting her on her singing voice (which was genuinely amazing) and teasing her about her competitive spirit during games night. you made sure your tone was light and playful, bordering on flirty. when ningning playfully jabbed you in the ribs and said, “you’re just saying that because i always win against you!” and you laughed and said, “maybe. or maybe it’s because you're incredibly charming.”

you were walking a tightrope, a precarious dance between harmless banter and blatant flirting. you knew you were pushing the boundaries, testing the waters. and you also knew you were succeeding.

from the corner of your eye, you saw karina excuse herself from her conversation with yeji. she walked towards the balcony, her shoulders tense.

karina plastered a smile on her face, trying to focus on what yeji was saying about her upcoming audition. but her attention flitted elsewhere. you were over there, practically glued to giselle, laughing at some story yeji couldn’t hear. was giselle even touching your arm? ugh.

karina took a sip of her drink, the sweetness doing little to soothe the burning in her chest. she tried to tell herself it was nothing. you were just being friendly, probably just trying to fit in. but she couldn’t shake the feeling that something was off.

then you were talking to winter, your eyes crinkling at the corners as you smiled at something she said. karina remembered the way you used to look at her, that same look on your face, a month ago. seeing it directed at someone else made her stomach clench.

and then, ningning. you were laughing with ningning, your head tilted close to hers, your eyes sparkling with amusement. ningning, who, let’s be honest, has been known to flirt with anything that moves.

you saw karina across the room, her head tilted towards yeji, but her eyes were locked on you. you held ningning's gaze for another moment, a small, almost imperceptible smirk playing on your lips before turning back to your drink.

at first, karina tried to ignore it. she continued her conversation with yeji, forcing a bright smile, but her eyes kept darting back to you. she’d laugh at yeji’s jokes, but the sound felt hollow, forced. the easy flow of conversation stuttered and stalled. she kept glancing at you, her brow furrowed, a flicker of something unreadable in her eyes.

she tried to convince herself that you were just being friendly, that she was being paranoid. But with each passing minute, the knot in her stomach tightened. she saw you throw your head back and laugh at something winter said. she watched ningning playfully punch your arm after you whispered something in her ear. She observed the way giselle kept finding excuses to touch your arm, your shoulder, your hand.

“karina? you okay?” yeji asked, her voice laced with concern. “you seem a million miles away.”

karina forced another smile. “yeah, i’m fine. Just... a little overwhelmed, i guess.”

“overwhelmed? it’s your birthday! you should be having fun.”

“i am having fun.” karina insisted, a little too quickly. “it’s just... you know, a lot of people.”

yeji raised an eyebrow, clearly unconvinced. “is this about your girl?”

karina’s facade crumbled. “what? no! what about (y/n)?”

“you’ve been staring at her all night.” yeji pointed out gently. “and not in a good way.”

karina sighed and slumped against the wall. “i don't know, yeji. i just... it feels like she’s ignoring me. like she’s more interested in talking to everyone else than in spending time with me.”

“maybe she’s just trying to be social.” yeji suggested. “you know how she gets at parties.”

“but it’s my birthday! i feel like she should be paying attention to me, not flirting with half my friend group.” karina’s voice rose, her frustration bubbling to the surface.

yeji put a hand on her arm. “hey, calm down. you’re getting worked up over nothing. maybe you should just talk to her.”

“talk to her? what am i supposed to say? ‘hey, i’m jealous of my own friends because you’re paying more attention to them than to me?’” karina rolled her eyes. “that sounds ridiculous.”

“well, maybe not in those words…” yeji conceded. “but you need to communicate how you’re feeling. otherwise, things will just fester, and you’ll end up blowing up over something stupid. is she even aware of how you are feeling?”

karina knew yeji was right, but the thought of confronting you filled her with anxiety. what if she was overreacting? what if you accused her of being clingy or insecure? what if you were actually enjoying the attention from her friends?

“i just don’t want to make a scene.” karina mumbled, her gaze fixed on her feet.

“you won’t.” yeji said firmly. “just pull her aside and tell her how you’re feeling. i understand you, you're my friend. the way she is behaving is bothering you. that’s all. she loves you, karina. she’ll understand."

karina took a deep breath, trying to regain her composure. yeji was right. she needed to talk to you. she couldn’t let her insecurities ruin her birthday.

“okay.” karina said, her voice barely a whisper. “okay, i’ll talk to her.”

she pushed herself off the wall and squared her shoulders. “wish me luck.”

yeji gave her a reassuring smile. “you don’t need luck. just be honest. and remember, you’re amazing, and she’s lucky to have you."

karina managed a weak smile in return. she walked back into the party, her eyes scanning the crowd. you were still standing by the snack table, now engrossed in a conversation with ningning. karina’s jaw tightened.

you continued your charade, expertly weaving through the crowd, leaving a trail of calculated flirtation and manufactured interest in your wake. you caught snatches of conversation, sideways glances, and the mounting tension in the air. you knew you were being petty, that you were stooping to a level unbecoming of you. but the gnawing feeling of being overlooked, of being relegated to the sidelines on your own girlfriend's birthday, fueled your actions.

and then, you saw it.

the shift in karina’s expression. the forced smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes. the subtle clenching of her jaw. it was a fleeting moment, almost imperceptible, but you knew you'd hit a nerve.

she finished her conversation with yeji, a strained goodbye that lacked the usual warmth. then, she moved through the crowd, her eyes fixed on you, a determined glint in their depths. a strange mix of triumph and apprehension washed over you as she approached.

“can i talk to you? now?” karina’s voice was strained, barely above a whisper, but the underlying anger was unmistakable.

you looked at ningning, offering a sheepish smile. “duty calls.” you said. she just shrugged, a knowing smirk on her face as you allowed karina to pull you away, deeper into the house.

before you could say anything else, she grabbed your hand and tugged you through the throngs of celebrating friends. the music faded, replaced by the pounding of your own pulse. you followed her, your mind racing, bracing yourself for the confrontation you knew was coming.

she led you through the living room, past the overflowing snack table, and down a narrow hallway towards her bedroom. the door clicked shut behind you, plunging you into a sudden and unsettling silence. the sounds of the party were muffled, distant. you were alone, just you and karina, in the hushed intimacy of her personal space.

karina released your hand and turned to face you, crossing her arms over her chest. the playful sparkle had vanished from her eyes, replaced by a look you couldn’t quite decipher – a mixture of hurt, anger, and something else, something you couldn’t quite name. she turned to face you, her chest heaving. “what the hell was that?" she demanded, her voice trembling with barely suppressed fury.

“what was what?” you asked, feigning innocence. you knew exactly what she was talking about, but you wanted to make her say it, to acknowledge the hurt you felt.

“don’t play dumb with me, (y/n). you know exactly what i’m talking about. all that… flirting… touching… laughing… with everyone else!"

you swallowed, trying to find the right words, the right explanation for your behavior. but the truth was, you didn’t have one. not one that wouldn’t sound petty, insecure, and utterly ridiculous.

“i was just being friendly, karina. it’s a party.”

“friendly? seriously? you practically had winter and ningning fighting over you! and giselle looked like she was ready to elope with you to vegas!”

“they were just being nice.” you said, shrugging again, trying to appear nonchalant. “maybe you should try it sometime.”

the words were barely out of your mouth when you saw a flash of pure anger in her eyes. “are you serious right now? it’s my birthday! i’m trying to spend time with my friends, and you decide to pull this… this childish stunt?”

“childish? you’re the one who's been ignoring me all night! i feel like i’m invisible when i’m around you and your friends!” you retorted. the dam had broken, and the hurt and resentment you’d been trying to contain came flooding out. “you've been glued to yeji all night! i haven’t seen you smile at me once the entire evening!”

“that’s not true!” karina protested, her voice rising. “i’ve been busy! it’s my birthday, (y/n). i wanted to spend time with everyone!”

“and what about me, karina? am i not important enough?”

“of course you are! don’t be ridiculous!”

“then why haven’t you acted like it?”

the room was thick with tension. you and karina stood inches apart, chests heaving, locked in a silent battle of wills. the joyful sounds of the party outside seemed a million miles away.

“you’re being ridiculous.” she repeated, but her voice was softer now, tinged with frustration. “i can’t believe you’re acting like this.”

the accusation hung in the air, heavy and undeniable. you knew she was right. you had been acting out, seeking attention, trying to make her feel the same way you had felt – ignored and unimportant.

“and i can’t believe you made me feel like this.”

the silence stretched between you, heavy and suffocating. you could see the anger simmering in karina’s eyes, but beneath it, you also saw hurt, confusion, and something else… a flicker of vulnerability.

suddenly, she lunged forward, grabbing your face in her hands. her grip was tight, almost painful. you braced yourself for another barrage of angry words, but instead, her lips crashed against yours.

the kiss was hard, demanding, almost punishing in its intensity. it wasn’t a tender, loving kiss; it was an angry kiss, a frustrated kiss, a kiss born out of hurt and jealousy. her teeth grazed your lip, and her grip tightened on your face, as if trying to mold you into something that would only pay attention to her. there was no tenderness, no sweetness, just a raw, desperate need.

you didn't pull away. you didn’t resist. part of you was shocked, part of you was relieved, and part of you was… aroused. you hated that you were aroused in this moment, the anger fueling a fire within you that had no right being kindled. the taste of her was familiar, intoxicating, even in this moment of conflict.

she pulled back abruptly, her breath coming in ragged gasps. her eyes, dark and blazing, were locked on yours. “don’t you ever do that again.” she said, her voice low and dangerous. “don’t you ever try to make me jealous.”

“karina i’m so–”

“want me to show you what happens when you dare to disrespect me like that?”

she sits back on the bed, releasing your wrists only to make a show of unbuckling her own belt and unzipping her jeans. karina shoves them down her long, toned legs along with her panties, kicking them off to the side. her cock springs free, hard and thick and already leaking at the tip.

“get on your knees.” karina orders, stroking her shaft languidly. “and put that filthy mouth of yours to good use. if you do a thorough enough job, maybe i’ll consider being gentle with that bratty ass of yours later.” she smiles cruelly, fisting a hand in your hair, tangling your locks around his hand and pulling hard on them to guide you down

“open wide, baby girl. let’s see if i can fuck some respect into you.” karina growls, rubbing the swollen head of her cock against your soft, plump lips, smearing them with her arousal. she applies pressure, demanding entrance, ready to claim her lover’s mouth as thoroughly as she’s claimed every other part of her life.

karina’s grip on your hair tightens as she forces the girl's mouth open, pushing her cock past those soft, resistant lips to slide over your tongue. she lets out a low groan at the wet heat enveloping the sensitive head, her hips jerking forward to push more of her thick length inside.

“fuck, your mouth feels good, you little cock slut…” karina grunts, starting to thrust shallowly, fucking your face with short, sharp snaps of her hips.

you can’t help but moan around karina’s member as she begins to thrust her cock into your mouth, not gently but with firm and demanding movements. karina was holding a firm grip on your hair, holding your head in place and not even giving you a chance to consider it, just taking it.

“this is what you wanted, isn’t it? to have your girlfriend’s cock stretching your throat, using your mouth like the fuck hole it is?” karina pants, her hips snapping forward sharply. her cock brutally hits the back of your throat with each thrust, making you gag and sputter, but karina doesn’t care, let alone stop or try to slow down. if anything, she increases the speed even more, using your mouth as a sex toy, her own fleshlight.

karina’s other hand moves down, grabbing your jaw and forcing you to open your mouth wider, allowing her to thrust deeper. the thick, stiff length pulsed and throbbed against your tongue, the salty taste of her arousal hitting your taste buds and making you whimper against her member.

your eyes soon crystallize with tears that threatened to escape and run down your cheeks, this is thanks to the brutality of karina’s attacks and how she didn’t even seem to want to give you a break.

but even through the discomfort and the lack of air, you feel a dark thrill, a twisted enjoyment of being used so roughly, so thoroughly. you want karina to keep going, to fuck your throat raw, to claim you completely. your ignored pussy throbs with need, wetting your panties and leaving a small wet spot on your shorts, asking for karina’s attention but knowing that you won’t get what you want tonight.

“get used to the taste of my cock, because you’ll be seeing a lot more of it if you keep being such a disobedient brat.” she picks up the pace, gripping your hair tighter as she starts to really face–fuck you, balls slapping obscenely against your chin with each rough thrust. drool starts to leak from the corners of your stretched–out mouth, tears springing to your eyes from the brutal pace and force.

after long, agonizing moments, karina finally pulls out, allowing you to gasp in a desperate breath. but she doesn’t give you a chance to recover before slamming back in, setting a ruthless rhythm that has your throat bulging obscenely with each punishing thrust.

“fuck, i’m going to cum down your throat and you’re going to swallow every last drop, understand? you don’t get to waste a single bit of my seed, you hear me? drink it all like the cum–hungry slut you are.”

if you thought this couldn’t get any more humiliating, you’re wrong! she roughly grabs your hair to nod your head in agreement, not even caring how she was making you choke with her rudeness

karina’s thrusts become erratic, her grip on your hair turning painful as she rapidly approaches her peak. she hilts her throbbing cock deep in the your sore throat, grinding her pelvis against your face as the first spurts of cum shoot down your gullet.

“fuckkk! swallow it all, dirty girl–” karina cries out, her back arching as she empties her heavy balls directly into you stomach. she holds her girlfriend in place, making your gulp down spurt after spurt of her bitter, salty seed until there’s nothing left.

finally, with a shuddering groan, karina pulls out, allowing you to collapse back and gasp for air. pearls of saliva and cum drip down your chin, along with your throat working as you fights the urge to gag and choke due to the lack of air and the excessive amount of cum that filled your throat.

“look at you, covered in spit and jizz…” karina sneers, tucking her softening cock back into her jeans. she wipes the head clean with a tissue, then tosses it aside carelessly. “you’re a mess, (y/n). a filthy, cock–starved mess. that’s what you needed anyway, wasn’t it? you were craving my attention, and you got it.”

karina gets out of bed, arranging her clothes and making her state presentable, looking at her reflection in the full–length mirror next to the bed.

taking one last look in the mirror, she snapped back on her heels, heading for the door. but before leaving, she gives you a look, almost looking down on you given your disheveled state.

“make sure you get ready. happy birthday will be sung in less than ten minutes. don’t be late, or i’ll cut the cake without you.”

[dilf-din]

I Don’t Wanna Get Used to Not Having You Around

Frank Castle X f!reader for @xxdrixx

A gift for you my sweet friend!! Please enjoy a little fake dating Frank fic I cooked up!! Title is from In the Heights by Knox Hamilton

WC: 4100

Warnings: none, fake dating, slight sugar daddy vibes if you squint, no beta if you see a typo no you didn’t

Frank slipped into his usual haunt, black hood up and boot speckled with rain. Incessant drizzles like this one meant a thinner crowd than usual. Of course, he did a quick scan of the room from the wide window before he entered. A group of college aged guys gathered around the pool table, three middle aged men at the far end of the bar watching the giants play, and a girl at the opposite end hunched over a drink he couldn’t make out. Once he deduced there were no threats, he entered quietly, stamping his feet on the crooked mat to rid himself of any larger raindrops and pushing it straight with the toe of his boot before taking a seat on one of the barstools with frayed seams and stuffing spilling out.

Two stars on yelp meant cheap drinks and sparse evenings. Perfect for someone like him.

He flagged down the bartender for a beer and shrugged his hood down. A bruise on his cheek was fading to a sickly green, but he was otherwise free of wounds which was a rarity.

Frank fished a book from his inner jacket pocket and noticed the girl two seats down from him more clearly now. Watery eyes, a pile of disintegrating tissues in her pockets that she had been using to dry the stream of tears. Chipped nail polish that had clearly been picked at and a phone that she incessantly checked for a message that didn’t seem to be coming.

For some reason, he was overcome with pity for this stranger.

He cleared his throat, “If the drink’s that bad, I can buy ya another one.”

You tensed slightly at his voice and looked to see who he was talking to before realizing it was you.

“Oh,” you laughed, a small one but a real one. “No, this is the only thing that’s helping.”

Frank nodded and cracked his book open, unable to parse if he should further the conversation.

He closed his book just as quickly as he had opened it, “Shitty guy?”

“The shittiest,” you instantly responded, turning slightly on the stool to face him.

The bartender set Frank’s beer down and he gave a quiet, “Thank you,” accompanied by a nod.

“My ex is engaged, to a girl I hate,” you drew out the H sound incredulously. “We went to the same college and she was always weirdly competitive with me, going for the same opportunities, stealing my ideas and trying to outdo me. We even applied for the same job at the end, and she got it instead of me. And he fed me some bullshit about us being incompatible. I feel like I got traded in for the better model,” your voice wavered. You picked up your drink and drained the second half in one gulp.

“That’s,” Frank paused, “Profoundly shitty.”

“They invited me to their engagement party,” you scoffed, pushing your phone away from you.

“Yikes,” Frank scratched the back of his head.

“And I’m still at the same shitty job living in the same shitty apartment. No date. Nothing nice to wear, no way to pretend like I’m a fraction as okay as them,” you signaled to the bartender for a refill.

“You might want it straight from the bottle,” Frank whispered, making a slight gesture towards their kitchen and wordlessly grimacing.

“Gross,” you wrinkled your nose, “Thanks for the tip.”

“When’s the party?”

“Tomorrow,” you groaned and laid your head on the cool tile of the bar before quickly retracting from the sticky residue you were met with.

“How did I never notice how bad this place is?” you laughed.

“It’s easy to ignore when you’re trying to forget everything else.”

“Who are you trying to forget?” you asked softly, resting your chin against your hands and really taking him in for the first time.

A strong jaw and nose, broad shoulders, neat hair and square posture. You would’ve guessed ex-military even before you eyed the dog tags around his neck with what looked to be a wedding ring.

“I’m sorry. That was out of line”, you apologized quickly.

He shrugged it off, “Nah, you’re just making conversation with the jackass who hit you up at the bar. I’m the one who didn’t mind my business.”

“Well I don’t think you’re a jackass.”

“You’d be in the minority then,” he scoffed a laugh and took a swig of his beer.

A short silence hung in the air between you. The clack of pool balls, loud complaints from the men watching football, the roar of the heater in the corner. Your head swam a little under the low lights as you stared at the man beside you. Feeling bold, you slid over to another stool until only one sat between you.

“I’m Frank,” he smiled.

Fuck. He was tanked.

While the two of you made further conversation, Frank took in everything about you. The shine of your eyes, the lilt of your laugh, the way your hair fell across your face and how badly he wanted to brush it behind your ear so it no longer obscured his view of you.

For hours the two of you chatted and drank. At some point, Frank scooted to the stool next to yours until your shoulders were flush against each other.

He leaned in to whisper to you, observations and wisecracks about the other bar patrons. You could feel the stubble on his cheek against your earlobe and his breath falling on your cheek, clouding your senses and making you forget that you had chosen that bar to be alone and cry tonight.

“I have a stupid idea,” he said, angling his body towards yours and you missed the contact of his shoulder.

“I love stupid ideas,” you grinned.

“Let me take you to that party tomorrow. I’ll pretend to be your boyfriend. We can show them what they’re missing.”

“That’s ridiculous,” you laughed, then paused to contemplate.

Frank knew this was a bad idea. That if you said yes, he’d be in too deep. He was already under your spell and you weren’t even trying to be anything but an unguarded, unfiltered version of yourself.

“You don’t have to do that. Keeping me company tonight means I’m already in your debt. I don’t like when the score is that uneven.”

“On the contrary, you kept a lonely guy like me company tonight, so I actually owe you.”

You laughed and looked down, really starting to consider his offer.

“You would do that?”

“If there’s anything I love, it’s giving people hell. Having a beautiful girl on my arm is just a bonus.”

“Yeah. Okay,” you nodded.

The two of you exchanged contact info, when and where he should pick you up, and parted ways, but not before he insisted on walking you home. You could tell he wasn’t a creep, and that his insistence came from a place of concern and protection. You looked at the ring hanging from his neck, and allowed him to accompany you. Something told you he was carrying some regret about not being able to protect someone once. Plus he had already punched your address into the contact in his phone, so it’s not like seeing it in person put you at any greater risk. If anything, you did feel safe walking next to him. You noticed the way his eyes scanned every alley and intersection. Though you weren’t holding hands, you felt the urge to cling to him as he guided you through the rainy night.

“This is me,” you announced at the foot of a staircase leading to a well lit brick building. “I’m that one right there,” you pointed to the corner window on the third floor.

“I’ll uh, see you tomorrow,” he shifted on his heels and shoved his hands into his jacket pockets.

“Good night, Frank,” you smiled, casting one last look over your shoulder at the mysterious man before unlocking the door to let yourself in.

Frank lingered on the sidewalk, counting the seconds until he saw the light in your window flip on. He disappeared before you could check the pavement to see him still standing there.

———

You woke the morning to splitting headache and two texts from Frank.

“Good morning. Drink some water before you do anything.”

“Heard you mention you didn’t have anything to wear. Get yourself something nice.”

Attached to the second message was an apple payment for $300.

You responded immediately.

“Frank this is ridiculous. I can’t take this money from you.”

Three dots as he immediately started typing his response.

“Consider it a thank you. Been a long time since I had a night as nice as last night.”

“Well thank you back.”

“See you at 7”

You dropped your phone to your chest and stared at the ceiling. What have you gotten yourself into.

A gurgling growl from your stomach coaxed you out of bed to assemble any kind of breakfast to sop up this hangover, accompanied by a tall glass of water, doctor’s orders.

After breakfast, you showered to get the smell of last night out of your hair. When you gathered your laundry to toss in the washing machine, you caught of whiff of Frank’s cologne on your hoodie, and fished it out. For some reason, you wanted to save that little memory, and laid it across the foot of your bed while you dressed to get ready for your shopping excursion.

It was windy this week, and your eyes stung as you stepped into the brisk air. You drew your scarf a little higher up and trekked into town. There was a department store not too far from where you lived, so you decided to try there and hope for the best.

The store was almost empty, save for a few ladies holding up sweaters to their bodies to check the length of the sleeves before placing them back on the rack.

Nothing stood out to you until you found a black velvet mini dress. It had a high neck and long sleeves, and the fabric slightly sparkled in the right light. On the way to the dressing room, you spotted a pair of knee high boots cut from the same fabric. There was one pair left in your size that you grabbed to try on as well.

It fit like a glove. The expanse of your thigh that peeked out between the boots and the bottom of the dress made you look elongated and sexy.

“Not too bad,” you murmured, doing a spin to admire your figure from every angle. With a few accessories and your hair pulled back into a bun, this would do quite nicely.

On your way to the register, you stopped to pick a pair of dangly gold earrings.

There was still a good bit of daylight left before Frank was supposed to pick you up, and you found yourself feeling antsy.

“Found a dress. Want to see?”

“I’ll wait till tonight. Bet you look beautiful.”

Another wave of butterflies.

“Are you doing anything?”

“Negative.”

“Early dinner?”

“Sure thing. I’ll be there at 5.”

Though it was still early afternoon, at least you shaved a few hours off until you could see him again. You found yourself strangely looking forward to the whole evening.

Popping in your headphones, you decided to clean your apartment. You danced from room to room mopping the floors and dusting the corners. You switched your laundry to the dryer and decided to toss in your sheets while you had the momentum.

At the end of your cleaning stint, it was nearing 3:30, and you decided you could start getting ready.

You brushed your teeth, applied simple makeup, and plucked a few stray hairs while an audiobook droned on in the background. Pulling on the dress once again, you were in love with the way it hugged your body, feeling a confidence you had been missing. A small jewelry box sat on your cluttered vanity holding not much besides a few pieces your mother had given you.

Carefully, you fished out the tennis bracelet and matching necklace that would perfectly complement the earrings you had picked up today. The last thing to do was pull your hair into a loose bun at the base of your neck. You pulled a few strands out to frame your face, and heard the buzzer to your apartment.

“You’re early,” you teased.

“Need me to walk around the block and come back?”

Without answering, you buzzed him in.

Suddenly, the butterflies were back. You did a once over in the mirror and sprayed on your perfume right when you heard a gentle knock at your door.

Without looking through the peephole, you unlatched the door to let Frank inside.

He smiled and presented a bouquet of flowers to you.

“Well hello,” you tried to conceal the heat that was rising to your face.

“My ma told me to always bring a lady flowers,” he shrugged as if it wasn’t an incredibly sweet gesture for two near strangers.

“And mine taught me to send thank you notes, so expect one this week,” you smiled turning to get them in a vase before the two of you left for the evening.

Angel, your small white cat mewled pitifully at Frank who bent down to scratch behind her ears.

You filled a vase with water and set the bouquet into it, carefully rearranging a few stems. It was a beautiful palette of whites and oranges.

“Do you still need a minute?”

“I just need my boots and coat,” you replied, rounding the corner out of the kitchen and skidding by him in mismatched ankle socks that he found incredibly endearing.

You sat on the edge of the overstuffed ottoman by the chair at the door and pulled the boots up your long legs, zipping them and brushing a bit of lint off of them. Frank looked away, turning to pretend to admire your wall art instead.

“What do you think?” You asked nervously fidgeting with the hem.

“I think you look like a million bucks,” he said quietly. He held his hand out for you to grab and do a little spin.

“Try three hundred,” you winked and he cracked a nervous laugh. Moving his hand up to run it over his chin and try to conceal his smitten smile.

“I think you look good enough to make that doofus see he’s missing out.”

“You clean up nice yourself,” you pulled your long black coat out of the closet and Frank wordlessly held it open for you to slip your arms into.

Frank was also in all black, sporting a button down and tie with jeans with some chelsea boots that looked new, or like something he only pulled out for special occasions. On top of it all he had a leather jacket that fit him like a glove.

“We’re so in sync we matched. We already have that couple telepathy,” you joked, grabbing your bag and dropping your phone in next to your keys. “Bye, Angel,” you cooed to your cat, leaning down to offer your nose that she gently pressed her own into.

Christ that was cute.

“I got us a table at a place close to the party,” he explained on the way down to his truck.

“You’re quite the planner,” you said sounding impressed.

“Something like that that,” he mumbled, closing your door behind you and making his way to the driver’s seat.

Though old, he kept his truck in perfect condition. There was an air freshener shaped like a tree hanging from the mirror, the windshield was spotless, and the floor mats even looked recently vacuumed. The radio played classic rock low through the speakers as you made light conversation on the way to the restaurant. You kept reminding yourself this wasn’t a real date. This was all just part of the act. You might not even see him after tonight, so why were you so nervous?

Frank turned on the charm over dinner, bantering with the waitstaff and ordering expensive wine for you to share. You started to wonder where he got this seemingly never ending supply of money and why he was spending it on you of all people. He was polite, paid cash, left generous tips. The thought of him being in the mob crossed your mind.

Frank checked the watch on his wrist, “It’s almost showtime. You need another minute?”

You finished off the glass of wine in front of you and exhaled, “Let’s just get this over with.”

Frank helped you into your jacket once more and offered you a firm hand to hold as you stepped over the threshold of the restaurant. His manners also never seemed to be in short supply. You bet to everyone else, you looked like a normal couple on a normal night out, not two strangers on a mission to scorn your ex. It was fun to pretend that this was for real.

You were quiet on the drive to the party, absentmindedly picking at what remained of your nail polish and wishing you had thought to repaint your nails.

Frank could sense your nerves.

“Just say the word and we can go.”

You looked over to meet his intense gaze.

“I can tell this is tearin’ ya up. So if you want to forget this whole thing, we can leave now. I’m sorry I even suggested it.”

“No, no I think this will be good for me. I need to face them. Thank you though,” you smiled sincerely.

Frank parked a few blocks down. He pulled the key from the ignition and exhaled.

“Ready when you are.”

“I’m ready to be done with them,” you sighed, reaching down for your purse.

Frank rushed out to open your door before you could even think about touching it.

“My lady,” he smiled charmingly as he offered you an arm down.

“Frankie, you’re too good to me,” you leaned against his arm, and he felt his throat tighten at your closeness.

“Their names are Beck and Dawn,” you whispered as you made your way to their stairs.

“Which is which?” He asked in earnest.

You tried to conceal a snicker as you let yourself in.

The halls were crowded with a number of faces you didn’t recognize and a few you did. Old classmates and colleagues, friends of Beck’s.

Less than a minute in and you already felt like you were suffocating.

You fished a card out of your purse and dropped it on a table that seemed to be collecting gifts and well wishes.

“I can’t stay here long,” you turned your head up to whisper to him.

Frank helped you out of your jacket and laid it next to his on a chair, then rested his hand on the small of your back. You tried to not think about the warmth of his skin and the width of his palm as you headed into the kitchen, exchanging a few polite greetings.

“They’re over there, but I want them to come to us,” you leaned up to whisper again.

Frank turned into you and nuzzled his nose against yours in a way that made you dizzy.

“She’s looking at us,” he whispered against your earlobe. His breath was hot on your neck, and for a second you thought about turning around and shoving your tongue down his throat to really sell it.

Frank’s hands lighted on your hips and he leaned in to whisper again, “You look sexy as hell. Don doesn’t know what he’s missing.”

“Dawn is the girl,” you hissed through a giggle.

“I told you I can’t tell the difference,” he laughed genuinely and both of your faces were lit up as Dawn and Beck made their way to you.

“Hey you!” Beck drew you into an awkward side hug.

“We didn’t think you would show,” Dawn said with a hint of true shock in her voice.

“Oh we were already in the neighborhood so we figured we might as well,” you shrugged. “This is Frank,” you smiled with a hand pressed to his side as the other was wrapped around his back.

Frank gave Beck a firm handshake, firmer than he should have but he couldn’t resist. When Beck drew his hand back and shook it out he asked, “Are you military, Frank?”

“Retired marine.”

“Oh hey, semper fi.”

Frank stared at him blankly. He could tell from everything about this goon that he had never served anything but overpriced coffee.

“Funny how life works out, huh?” Dawn forced a smile as she caressed Beck’s lacking bicep. Frank tried and failed to not feel incredibly superior to both of them.

“Yeah I’d say we both found people who deserve us,” you volleyed back.

Frank’s grip on your waist tightened in a possessive way that flooded you with heat as he and Beck seemed to be in a silent stare down.

Feeling bold you decided to say one more thing, “I hope you drive each other crazy. You truly deserve it.”

Beck started to say something, but you took long strides to the exit, leaving him behind once and for all. Frank shrugged and raised his eyebrows as if he had nothing else to add, following you back to the car.

Tomorrow they would open a card addressed to them congratulating Dawn on once again stealing something that belonged to you.

In your rush to leave, you left your jacket and were met with an unpleasant gust of wind.

Frank followed behind you a moment later, holding your jacket open to step into once again.

“My savior,” you murmured. Your heart was still pounding as nearly a decade of feeling looked over and plotted against settled in your throat. Hot tears spilled down your cheeks before you had a chance to convince them not to.

“Hey, hey. None of that,” Frank said softly, swiping the tears away with rough knuckles.

You stood on the stoop trying to compose yourself, and buried your face in Frank’s chest. He wrapped his arms around you without hesitation and settled his feet to become a wall against the biting wind.

“Not that I mind holding ya, but do you wanna go somewhere else away from these assholes?”

“Yes please,” you sniffed, following him back to his truck.

Once you had settled into the cab, Frank turned the heat on and adjusted the vents so you could warm your fingers beneath them.

“I’m sorry,” you started.

Frank scoffed as he prepared to chastise you.

“Not for crying, for bringing you here. I have too much baggage with both of them. It wasn’t fair to rope a stranger into all this.”

You met his gaze with a fresh wave of tears crowding your eyes.

“Couple things, sweetheart. One, you didn’t drag me anywhere. I’m not the kind of guy who does things I don’t want to do. And second, you don’t have to apologize. We’ve all got baggage. Some of us carry it with us everywhere,” he cleared his throat. “And third, I know it’s been a weird coupla days, but I’d love to not be strangers when this is all said and done.”

You searched his face and only saw things you had always longed for: patience, sincerity, adoration.

“I can tell you feel broken right now, but it won’t always feel that way. Forget those jokers. They don’t know what they’re missing. I think I walked out with the prize tonight.”

Frank licked his lips nervously and cast his eyes downward. It wasn’t like him to be so bold, but he had learned long ago that hesitating means you lose out on the best stuff life could give you.

You scooted closer to him, leaving a small space like you had in the bar. Frank scooted closer to you and closed the gap. His hands on your neck were rough and warm as he pulled you into a kiss.

He kissed like a man who had known both love and loss, passion and regret. It was tender, holy, all consuming.

“Fuck, I’ve been wanting to do that since yesterday,” he laughed against your mouth, stealing another quick kiss.

“I promise I’ll never make you wait 24 hours again,” you laughed back.

“I’ll hold you to that,” he drew his hands back and started pressing buttons on his watch.

“What are you doing?”

“Settin’ a timer,” he smiled, not meeting your eyes as he moved the small dials with his large fingers.

[agreeewrites]

Freefall | D.M. & H.P

feat Draco Malfoy x roommate!reader x Harry Potter

SUMMARY: Secrets can only stay buried for so long in a cramped London flat. When the truth finally comes out, your relationship with your flatmates, Harry and Draco, will never be the same.

CW: MDNI 18+, college roommates!au, smut, mfm, slight angst, pining!drarry, going from friends/roommates to friends with benefits, dom!draco and switch!harry

AN: much more to come! I wouldn't call this a series, more like a collection of fics/drabbles/headcanons. my asks are open if there's anything you'd like to see!

masterlist

“Here, taste this,” Harry said, approaching the kitchen island where you were combing through your coursework, spoon covered in sauce held aloft.

You opened your mouth, not looking up from the passage on the Demiguise.

Harry chuckled, feeding you the bit of sauce. You smacked your lips, tasting the marinara Harry's made one hundred times. “Needs a bit more garlic,” you said. “But otherwise perfect.”

“You always say that,” Harry teased, rolling his eyes as he turned back to his sauce. There was something so warm about Harry, so safe, with his fluffy black hair and broad shoulders, his easy smile and quick wit.

“It's always true,” you argued, taking a sip of your wine to hide your smile.

Music from one of his muggle records filled the air, something acoustic and folksy that added to the peaceful vibe of the flat, carefully curated by yourself and your other roommate, Draco. The two of them needed a sanctuary after every they endured, and your shared flat became exactly that. A safe harbor from the chaotic world.

“Need a refill?” Harry asked, glancing at your almost empty glass, always trying to take be helpful.

“Trying to get me drunk, Potter?”

“Are we drinking?” Draco strode out from his room, his platinum hair still damp from the shower, dressed in a Slytherin crew neck and sweatpants. Your mouth went a little dry at the sight of him, the clean smell lingering on his skin, and you swallowed the rest of your wine.

“Someone is,” Harry chuckled, flashing you a cheeky smile.

Draco entered the kitchen, moving around Harry to grab a wine glass from a tall cabinet, his shirt riding up a bit to reveal the smooth skin of his lower abdomen.

“Ow! Fucker,” Harry hissed, shaking out his hand. “Damn stove.”

Draco snickered, pouring himself a generous glass of wine and topping up yours. “Distracted, Potter?” he teased, and a a flush crawled up Harry’s neck.

“Leave him alone,” you chastised, beckoning the spectacled boy towards you with a crooked finger. “Or else he’ll stop cooking for us.”

“Maybe for Malfoy,” Harry grumbled, placing his hand in your outstretched palm.

“Well, can’t have that. I’d starve to death.” Draco smirked, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of wine.

“Episkey,” you cast, healing the burn on Harry’s finger with a swipe of your thumb. “There we go,” you hummed, grinning at him.

“T-thanks,” he said, adjusting his glasses.

“How convenient, having our own pretty nurse at home,” Draco said, winking at you when you flipped him off.

Harry playfully checked Draco’s shoulder when he returned to the kitchen, and Draco muttered something in Harry’s ear, making him roll his eyes with a coy half-smile. They dove into conversation about their shared Auror classes, drastically different than your own courses for your Magical Creatures degree.

You turned back to your work, trying to tune them out and ignoring the increasingly familiar feeling of otherness that trickled in. Harry and Draco had a past that was inextricably entwined, two sides of the same coin, and their bond often left you feeling like a third-wheel in your own flat. Usually it didn't bother you, but the feelings had grown stronger and stronger over the last few weeks, creeping into almost every interaction with them and sucking the joy out of it. Tonight, it sat like a stone in your stomach.

You missed them, even though they were only a few feet away from you and you occupied the same 900 square foot space.

After a few minutes, Draco sidled up next you, leaning over your shoulder to read your notes. “Still studying, love?” He asked, close enough that his breath ghosted over your ear.

You suppressed a shiver. Draco loved nothing more than to get a rise out of you and Harry, and you weren’t in the mood to stroke his ego.

“Yes, I am,” you replied, voice more clipped than you intended, and you caught him and Harry share a look over you head, fueling your irritation.

Draco didn’t push, retreating back to his place in the kitchen. He and Harry continued to mutter to one another and exchange meaningful looks while Harry finished up dinner, acting as if you weren’t there at all.

Sometimes, if felt like they could read each other's minds, shared a connection deeper than words. Like two great trees with tangled roots, communicating in a language only the two of them understood.

Just when you were about to gather your things and hole up in your room for the night to wallow in self-pity, Harry set a plate under your nose, piled high with pasta.

“Added extra garlic for you,” he murmured, giving you a soft smile, and some of your irritation unwound.

“Thanks,” you said, a bit sheepish about your attitude.

“Course, can’t let you go hungry,” he teased, turning back to make his own plate.

Your heart gave a weak trill, but you quickly squashed it down. You were being silly, you all were just friends, roommates. They didn’t owe you anything, least of all a place in their hard-earned inner circle.

Their lives were full, and there wasn’t room for you.

After dinner, you retreated to your room to shower, trying to pull yourself together. They had enough going on in their lives; the last thing they needed was your drama on top of everything else.

But no matter what you told yourself, the feeling lingered, sour on your stomach and bitter on your tongue.

Hair towel dried and dressed in a PJ set, you ventured back out into the living room. It was empty, but the large window leading to the fire escape was cracked open, low, masculine voices floating on the air.

You debated making yourself a cup of tea and leaving them to it, but your curiosity won out. You wrapped a blanket around your shoulders and lifted the window, stepping out onto the small balcony.

Harry was leaned against the railing, hands stuffed in his hoodie, and Draco was perched on the iron steps leading to the next floor, a cigarette hanging from his lips.

To your surprise, the air was thick with tension, heavy like an incoming storm. Draco's shoulders were up to his ears, the smoke from his cigarette hanging like smog in the London streetlights.

Was it because of you?

Harry moved to help you down, his hand steady and strong in yours, and closed the window behind you. “It's cold out here,” he cautioned, noting your still damp hair. “Is that blanket warm enough?”

You nodded, giving him a small smile of thanks. “Am I, uh, interrupting?” You asked, looking up at Draco. He looked so handsome in the low light, shadows sharpening his jaw, the cherry of the cigarette making his light eyes glow.

He shook his head, taking another drag.

“Course not.” Harry rubbed a hand on the back of his neck, leaning against the railing once again. He wasn't nearly as good of a liar as Draco.

“What were you talking about?” You asked, trying to sound casual.

“Just school stuff—”

“Nothing—”

They spoke at the same time, interrupting each other, then fell quiet again.

“Uh-huh,” you crossed your arms over your chest. “Don't stop on my account,” you said, sitting on the window sill and pulling the blanket tighter around your shoulders.

But, as you suspected, they stayed mum, exchanging a glance you couldn't decipher.

You wish it didn't, but it made you feel so alone, so…jealous. You craved their closeness more than anything.

“If you tell me what's going on, maybe I could help,” you offered.

Harry’s eyes softened. “Everything's okay. Please don't worry about us.”

“Of course I'm going to worry about you,” you countered, the edge of your voice betraying the hurt feelings you were trying to shove down.

Harry frowned, concern drawing his dark brows together. “I know, but…”

Draco stubbed his cigarette on the steps. “Come here,” he said, extending a hand to you.

Harry's eyes widened in surprise.

Uncertainty made your heart beat quicken, but you placed your fingers in Draco’s palm. He drew you up and between his knees on the steps, guiding your hand to wrap around his middle. The warmth of his body overruled your hesitation, and you leaned into his chest, head resting on his shoulder.

He smelled like smoke and his amber body wash, and something new fluttered to life in your belly.

“Potter’s right,” Draco murmured, his voice resonant in his chest. “You shouldn't worry about us.”

You didn't reply, unable to articulate why ‘us’ bothered you so much. Just another reminder that there was them, and then there was you.

You glanced up at Draco, finding his eyes not trained on you, but on Harry, molten like fired glass, and your hurt deepened. You tried to pull away, but Draco locked an arm around your shoulders, his gaze flicking down to yours.

You turned away, averting your eyes.

“Please don't be upset,” Harry said, a twinge of worry in his voice. “We just don't want you too—”

“We're trying to protect you,” Draco said.

You pulled back, and Draco let you, though he didn't let you step out from between his long legs. “Protect me from what? Memories?” You asked, looking to Harry.

“Memories are powerful,” he said. “They're a burden. We’re a burden, and we don't want to put that on you.”

You stared at him. “A burden?” You hissed, pulling away from Draco fully to face Harry. “How could you think that?”

Harry couldn't look at you, his eyes on the ground. “We said we would never make your life harder, pile our shit onto your shoulders after you were kind enough to open your home,” he muttered. “You don't deserve that.”

“That’s what friends do,” you said, throat thick with frustrated tears. “I thought we were friends.”

Harry's head snapped up, pain evident in his eyes. “We are friends,” he insisted, pushing off the railing to approach you. “That's why we—”

“We,” you scoffed. “You don't get it, Harry.” You turned away from him, only to bump directly into Draco's chest, his expression hard.

“You really want to know what we were talking about?” He asked, jaw feathering with tension.

“That's not—”

“It is, though. Isn't it? You're feeling left out.”

You flushed, turning away from his too-perceptive gaze, but he caught your chin with his hand, forcing you look up at him.

“Malfoy,” Harry warned.

“No, if she wants the truth, she'll have it.” Draco shot Harry a look, and the other boy made a strangled sound in the back of his throat. Draco looked back at you, a reckless sort of intensity in his eyes. “Potter here was telling me about how he asked you to taste the sauce just so he could feed it to you. It's why he made it in the first place.”

“Draco,” Harry snapped, and your eyes widened in shock.

“And then I told him that I liked your new body wash—coconut or something? And that I wondered what it tasted like on your skin.” He backed you against the brick wall, his body warm and solid against yours. Your heart was beating so loud, you almost couldn't hear him. “That the reason I came out here was because the fucking smell of you, hot and wet and naked in the shower, was driving me mad, and I was this close to charging into that bathroom and eating you for dessert.”

You were stunned silent, staring up at him in complete and utter disbelief. He wanted you? They both wanted you?

“Draco, I—”

“You wanted to know the big fucking secret, darling. That's it. We're both completely and utterly obsessed with you, sick with it.” His breath was hot against your cheek, the rumble of his voice swirling around the shell of your ear and making you shiver, that flutter you felt earlier building to a twister of want, the clarity sudden and striking.

You were jealous and hurting because you wanted them.

“We haven’t said anything because—because we don't want to ruin the one friendship we have that isn't rooted in our past,” Harry added, wringing his hands together. “We don't want to lose you, or make you uncomfortable.”

Draco moved to step back, uncertainty creeping into his expression, and a bolt of fear pierced your heart. No, no, no. You grabbed him without thinking, letting your blanket fall to the ground

“You couldn't lose me,” you admitted. “I want you both too.”

“You want us too?” Draco asked, skeptical eyes searching your face.

“Please,” you whispered.

He immediately folded, crushing you back against the wall, and crashed his mouth to your in a rough, desperate kiss. He groaned low in his throat, the sound turning your core to liquid, and drove his tongue into your mouth, swiftly taking control of the kiss. You were putty in his hands, flayed open for him to claim, to ravage with tongue and teeth. It felt like you were flying. Like he'd picked you up and dropped you over the edge of the roof. Plummeting. Freefall.

“Fuck, you taste so sweet,” he rasped, kissing down your jaw and lapping at the place where your pulse surged under your skin. In a quick movement, Draco spun your around, his back to the wall with your back pressed to his front, his arms bracketed around your middle.

Harry was standing there, eyes wide and cheeks pink, his grip tight on the railing behind him.

“Harry,” you whined, voice pitching higher when Draco's mouth found the sweet spot under your ear.

“I—”

“Bloody hell, Potter. Fucking kiss her.” Draco ordered, and Harry surged forward like he was waiting for permission. His hands reached up to cradle your face as his lips connected with yours. Harry's kiss was softer, more timid than Draco's. A question, rather than a command.

Your hands fisted in his hoodie, drawing him closer as you licked along the seam of his lips, tasting wine and his honey lip balm as he parted for you, gliding his tongue along yours.

“Fucking finally,” Draco purred, his hand sliding under your shirt to splay across your stomach, pressing you tighter against him. “How's she taste, Potter?” He asked, his other hand coming up to rest against your throat.

“Like heaven,” Harry murmured, breath hitching when you nipped at his lower lip. He pressed himself harder against you, squishing you between their bodies, and you gasped, hands flying up to tangle in Harry’s unruly hair.

Harry grew a bit bolder, licking into your mouth with hungry strokes. Your hips canted forward, your pussy practically begging for attention, and you felt Harry's erection press against your hip, throbbing beneath his pajama pants.

“What a good girl,” Draco cooed, his hand sneaking higher to cup your breast, his thumb grazing your taught nipple. You moaned into Harry's mouth, arching your spine to press your chest into Draco's palm. “Being so sweet for us.” Draco tightened his hand around your throat, grinding his erection into your ass.

Harry's hands wandered south, pawing at your curves over your pajamas until he gripped your ass, rocking your more intentionally against him and Draco.

Draco hissed through his teeth when Harry's hand grazed his cock. You thought maybe it was an accident until you felt Harry smile, the slightest quirk of his mouth, as he brushed Draco's cock again.

“Inside, now,” Draco rumbled, shifting off the wall and send you and Harry stumbling forward.

Harry steadied you, a hand on your hip. “Is that what you want?” He asked, searching your face.

“Yes.” You nodded, tugging him in by the hoodie strings for a quick peck. “I want you,” you murmured against his lips, and he grinned.

“Come on, then,” Draco called, already inside, a hand extended to you. You took it and he hauled you inside, placing a hand over the bottom of the open window so you didn't hit your head in your haste. Harry clamored in right behind you, shutting and locking the window while Draco guided you to sit down on the couch, his lips on yours again.

Harry sat on the other side of you, shirking his hoodie. Draco leaned you back to drape across Harry's thighs, pushing up your shirt to kiss across your hips. Harry tugged the shirt over your head, exposing your chest to them.

“So pretty, sweetheart,” Harry murmured, his fingertips grazing over your ribcage, the other draped over the back of the couch. You felt like you were burning, desire spreading under your skin like a brush fire.

“Lift your hips for me, love,” Draco said, looking up at your through blond lashes. You obeyed, leaning more of your weight onto Harry, and Draco hooked his fingers into your waist band, sliding down your pants and panties in one go.

It struck you how normal this all felt. How comfortable and right.

Draco spread your legs, fingertips dimpling into your tender skin. His lips connected with your inner thigh, feather light and teasing as he trailed closer towards your dripping pussy.

Harry's hand cupped your tits, pinching and rolling your nipples lightly, just enough pressure to make you squirm, head falling back onto the couch. His eyes bounced around your body, like he couldn't decide where to focus his attention.

“Merlin, please,” you whined when Draco kissed just north of your clit, smirking against your skin.

“Please what, baby?” Draco asked, resting his cheek on your thigh.

“Please touch me.” You tangled your fingers into Draco's hair, nudging him closer to your core. “Please.”

Harry groaned above you, his cock kicking against your shoulder. But he continued his leisurely ministrations, following Draco's lead. Their easy, instinctual dynamic made your head a little fuzzy, your pussy ache.

Draco hummed, gliding his thumb over your slit, collecting the honey waiting for him. You moaned, hips chasing Draco's touch, but it was gone as quickly as it came.

Holding your gaze, he swiped his tongue over his thumb, tasting you. You loosed an aggravated huff, squirming between them.

Harry shushed you, petting your head like you were an unruly kitten. “Stop torturing her, D,” Harry said, glaring down at the blond.

Draco tsked. “But don't you want a taste?” He asked, dragging two fingers through you before lifting them to Harry's mouth.

Harry’s eyes widened, going a bit glassy, and he nodded. Draco smirked triumphantly and fed his fingers between the other boys lips. Harry moaned, his eyes fluttering closed as he sucked your slick off Draco's long fingers, his tongue twining around his knuckles.

You whimpered, thighs clenching around Draco.

“Can you blame me for wanting to savor this?” Draco murmured, slipping his fingers from Harry’s mouth and bringing them back between your legs. He eased his middle finger inside of you, pumping slowly and watching your face crumble in pleasure, a broken moans spilling from your lips.

Harry placed a hand behind your head, lifting your face to his for an eager kiss. You could taste yourself on his tongue, heady and sweet, and you tangled your fingers into his hair, drawing him closer, kissing him harder.

Draco added another finger, scissoring you open and massaging your gummy walls with precision. His lips found your clit, nursing gently, and pleasure bloomed through you, a burgeoning glow in your belly. You gasped into Harry's mouth when he tweaked your nipples again, tugging his hair hard enough to make him whimper.

Draco kissed up your body, his fingers still fucking into you, and dragged his tongue along your cheek, a silent question. You turned your head to kiss him, his nose and chin covered in your slick. Harry nosed closer, licking at the mess along Draco's chin, and he turned, catching Harry's lips in a sloppy, almost competitive dueling of tongues. Harry groaned when you licked and kissed down his neck, Draco's fingers still coaxing soft moans from your lips.

You grabbed at the hem of Draco's shirt, struggling to pull it off in the tangle of limbs, and Draco chuckled, sitting back on his heels. He withdrew his fingers, sucking them clean before standing up to undress himself.

Harry shifted behind you, tossing his t-shirt aside. You sat up, shifting to straddle him, the only thing separating you the thin fabric of his pajama pants. You'd seen Harry shirtless countless times, his tanned skin drawn tight over lean muscles from years of Quidditch and Auror training, but having him spread out beneath you, yours to enjoy, made your cunt quiver with anticipation, your mouth fill with saliva.

Harry flushed under your gaze, averting his eyes from your openly appreciative expression. You leaned down, pressing a kiss to his cheek, in a trail towards his ear.

“You're gorgeous, Harry,” you murmured, rolling your hips over the thick bulge between his legs. He groaned, hands moving from your thighs to grip your hips.

“Isn't he?” Draco hummed, taking a swallow of wine while he watched the two of you, an almost predatory glint in his eye. “Was always jealous that I never filled out like that.” He chuckled.

“Oh, sod off,” Harry said, breathless as you slowly rocked against him. “You were always the hot one.”

“Never said I wasn't,” Draco smirked, setting the wine glass down.

Harry opened his mouth to retort, but you silenced him with a kiss, drawing his attention back to you.

His hips bucked up into you, his cock so hard it had to be painful. Desperate to be sheathed inside you. You were ravenous for him too, plagued by the absence left by Draco's fingers. The grinding grew more intense as your need mounted, rough and sloppy in a way that had the two of you whining into the kiss, waiting for…something.

Draco leaned on the back of the couch behind Harry, smoothing your hair from your face. “You look unbelievable right now, darling,” he murmured. “So perfect for us. Right, Potter?”

Harry nodded, his face buried into the crook of your neck, calloused hands like a vice on your hips.

“You want to fuck her, Harry?” Draco combed his fingers through Harry's dark waves, tugging his head back against the couch.

“Merlin, yes. Want to fuck you so bad, love,” he panted up at you, glasses fogging from the heat of his body.

“Yes, please, Harry. Need you,” you moaned, your swollen clit dragging against his cock in a way that made you see stars.

“Go on, then. What are you waiting for?” Draco purred, knowing damn well you were waiting for his permission, even if you didn't quite know why.

Both you and Harry were too far gone to respond to his teasing. Harry wrapped an arm around your waist, lifting you up so he could free himself from his bottoms. You couldn't see what he was packing from your position, but when the head nudged your entrance, it felt like a fist prodding at you.

“Holy fuck, Harry—” you gasped, grabbing onto Draco when the head breeched your pussy, Harry grunting beneath you at the tight fit.

“Seven bloody saints, baby. S'fucking tight,” he groaned, his face buried in your tits.

“Relax, love,” Draco soothed, caressing your cheek with the backs of his fingers. “You can take it.”

“Fuck, fuck—ngh, it's too big,” you cried, even as your pussy stretched around Harry’s length, accepting him inch by torturous inch.

“It’s alright, darling. You're doing so well already.” Draco placed a tender kiss to your forehead. “Isn't she, Potter?”

“M'trying to be careful, baby but f-fuck,” Harry grated, his hips stuttering up, a flicker of pain making you whimper. “Sorry, sorry. You just feel so good.” Harry kissed up your sternum, his free hand coming up to angle your head down towards him. “Just a little more,” he murmured, your forehead resting on his. His chest rose and fell in a deep breath, and you mirrored him, breathing in tandem through the final stretch.

Your full weight settled onto his hips, his cock buried inside of you, and you both moaned as the pain morphed into pleasure, lips connecting an airy, breathless kiss.

You flexed your thighs, lifting up on Harry's cock before rolling back down, gasping into Harry's mouth at the delicious, full feeling.

“Fuck, just like that,” Harry moaned, using his grip on your hips to help you slide up and down his cock. “Merlin, you're so fucking sexy.”

Your head tipped back on your shoulders, moans spilling freely as Harry started bucking up into you, cockhead kissing your cervix with every powerful thrust and making your eyes cross. You could feel him everywhere, ecstasy humming along your nerves and sweetening your blood, the sound of your sopping pussy squelching around him wonderfully lewd.

Lost in Harry, you hadn't noticed Draco move until you heard him moan, the sound scraping through his teeth. You glanced over, seeing him stretched out in his chair, his fist wrapped around his cock and stroking slowly, watching you and Harry through heavy-lidded eyes.

It wasn't as thick as Harry’s, but long and slightly curved, the head and angry pink and shiny with precum. Draco spit onto it, lubricating himself, and your whole body reacted to the sight, clenching hard around Harry as a fresh gush of arousal surged through you.

Harry cried out, his rhythm faltering for a moment, and Draco smirked, knowing what affect he had on you.

“Shit, m’not gonna last much longer with you squeezin’ me like that—f-fucking hell,” his voice fractured into another moan when you clenched around him again, watching Draco synchronize his hand to Harry's thrusts, keeping pace with the two of you.

Fuck, it was so hot being caught between the two of them. You were the clearly at the center of their desires, but you could tell they craved one another too, got some satisfaction out of sharing you. Whether it was for pleasure, or some twisted game between old rivals, you couldn't quite tell.

You were teetering on the edge of release, Harry's hunger coupled with Draco's restraint ratcheting you higher and higher.

“Come for me, love.” Harry grabbed you by the hair, rougher than he had been, and forced you to look at him while he pounded up into you. His eyes were lust-blown and wild, cheeks flushed and brow sweaty. “Need to make you come first. C’mon, sweetheart, please—yes, baby, just like that—fuck, fuck!”

The coil in your stomach snapped at the same moment Harry's cock kicked against your walls, the first jet of release splattering against your cervix.

“Fuck, Harry!” You cried as the orgasm tore through you, bright and blissful. You clung to him, your spasming pussy making you both gasp and whine in pleasure as he continued working you over his cock. Milking himself with your limp body until the ecstasy finally dissipated.

You both collapsed back onto the couch, chests heaving and sticky with sweat. Harry drew you in for a kiss, his lips plush and tender, and you melted into his embrace, limbs heavy and thoughts sluggish.

You felt cool fingers run down your spine, making you twitch and whimper with sensitivity.

“Not done yet, are you, sweet girl?” Draco asked, urging you to turn over onto your back with a hand on your hip.

You obliged, settling with your back pressed against Harry's chest, legs falling open as Draco kneeled onto the couch. He loomed like hunter over a fresh catch, eyes shaded with desire, cock standing proud between his legs.

His fingers glided between your slit, collecting yours and Harry's combined released and pushing it back inside of you, pumping his fingers slowly into your messy entrance.

You mewled, head falling back onto Harry's shoulder as pleasure warred with overstimulation, the muscles in your legs trembling as your hips rocked into his palm.

“Shit, Draco,” Harry said, breathless as he watched Draco toy with you. “So fucking hot.”

Draco smiled, withdrawing his fingers and bringing them to his cock, smearing the mix of fluids over his shaft. “I'll corrupt you yet, Potter,” he teased, then looked down at you, eyes burning. “Come here, darling.”

You instantly sat up and leaned towards him, drawn like a magnet. Helpless to disobey. His fingers carded through your hair and fisting at the base of your scalp.

“Show me that pretty little tongue,” he ordered, grabbing the base of his cock and causing it swell even larger.

Your mouth fell open, tongue lolling out, and you heard Harry curse behind you, getting a clear view from the mirror against the wall.

“Such a good slut for us, hm?” Draco traced the edge of your lips with his cockhead, smearing release across your mouth, taunting you. “One cock isn't enough for you?”

You shook your head, batting your lashes up at him, wanting to give them both a show. To please them.

“Salazar’s sakes, love. Better stop looking at me like that, or I just might run out of patience,” Draco warned, tapping your tongue with his cock.

“I think she might like that,” Harry chuckled, kissing along the curve of your shoulder.

“I think you might be right, Potter.” Draco dragged you forward, driving halfway into your mouth.

You fastened your lips around him, hollowing your cheeks while you lapped at his velveteen skin. You could taste yourself, and what must be a mix of the two of them, and your eyes rolled back into your head, a pulse of arousal making your pussy clench and drip.

Draco cursed under his breath, moving you up and down his length by your hair, watching with rapt attention as you drooled and slurped around him, going completely brainless on his cock.

“Fuck, that feels so good. If your cunt feels half as good as your mouth—shit,” Draco moaned, holding you still so he could thrust into your throat, just hard enough to make tears spring in your eyes.

“Better, I’d wager,” Harry said, reaching around to grope your tits, making you moan around Draco's cock. “Wraps around ‘ya like a glove.”

Draco grunted, suddenly pulling you off of him. He crashed his mouth to yours with nearly as much fervor as the first kiss on the balcony, all tongue and teeth . He eased you back onto Harry's chest, using his other hand to line himself up with your center.

In one thrust, he bottomed out inside you, Harry's efforts ensuring your were pliable and ready.

“Fuuuuck,” Draco moaned, his head falling onto Harry's shoulder. “So fucking ready for me, baby. Weren't you?”

You nodded, crying out when he withdrew then slammed back into you, nails raking down his back at the intensity.

“That's it—good girl, such a good little slut f’me.” He wasted no time setting a brutal pace, fucking you hard into Harry while you screamed beneath him, lost in the dizzying, brutal pleasure. Draco fucked you out of your mind while Harry kept your body rooted in place. Murmuring sweet praise in your ear, coddling you like an angel, while Draco fucked you like you were anything but.

Harry's hand slid down between your legs, quick fingers working your puffy clit. “Doing so well, lovey. He's not being too rough, is he?”

You shook your head, nails digging into Harry's veiny forearm. “N-no—feels good.”

“Merlin, this cunt is a dream,” Draco growled against your ear, nipping at your skin when you fluttered around him, his words drawing a visceral reaction from your body. “Ours, now, yeah? Potter and I’s pretty cunt?”

“Yes, yes! Fuck, Draco—m’gonna come.” You clung desperately to them, trying to find purchase in the raging storm of pleasure, but it was quickly sweeping you away, dragging you under.

“That's it, give it to me—fuck!” Draco cried out, bottoming out inside of you when his release slammed into him, the heavy kick of his cock sending you over the edge. You came hard, feeling yourself bear down on him to an almost painful degree as you entire body locked up, vision swimming from the tears pooling on your eyes.

Harry shushed you, pressing kisses into your hair. “You can take it,” he murmured. “We've got you.”

“Fucking hell, love,” Draco panted, rocking his hips into you as you rode out the waves of pleasure, the weight of their bodies keeping you from squirming away when overstimulation kicked in.

“Draco—fuck, ah, too much,” you whimpered.

“Sorry, baby,” he cooed, catching your lips in an apologetic kiss. “Could stay wrapped in your forever,” he murmured against your lips, and you felt your heart flip, heat spreading in your cheeks. Draco stole a final thrust before slumping back onto the other end of the couch, chest heaving, softening cock glistening with your combined release.

If you weren't wrung out like a sponge, you'd clean him up with your tongue.

Harry slipped out from behind you, grabbing his wand from the table to magically clean the three of you up and put his pants back on. “Are you alright, love?” He asked, draping a blanket over your shoulders and sitting beside you, suddenly sheepish again.

“I'm exhausted,” you replied with a breathy chuckle. “Good exhausted.” You amended when concern flickered across his face. “Are you okay?”

“I'm good.” He glanced over at Draco, still prone with his eyes closed. “I think you may have killed him.”

Draco lifted an arm, flipping Harry off, and you giggled. He sat up, not making any move to cover himself. “We should set some ground rules.”

Harry rolled his eyes. “Would it kill you to relax for a second?”

“It's for her benefit,” Draco bit. “This could get…messy.”

You nodded in agreement, a tendril of worry curling around your spine. Draco was notorious for one night stands, was that all this was?

“It stays between us, firstly,” Draco said, and you and Harry nodded in agreement. “Potter and I living together kept the Daily Prophet open for weeks. A sex scandal is the last thing we need.”

“It's a flat thing, nothing else,” you said, getting ahead of what you were sure was coming. “Roommates that fuck.” It was safer that way, less complicated.

“Flatmates with benefits,” Harry gave a wry chuckle, though it didn't meet his eyes.

“Group only, or…?” You glanced at Draco, and he looked back at Harry.

Harry shrugged. “I'm okay with splitting off now and then.”

Draco's jaw feathered, but he didn't argue.

Shit, this really could get messy. But you were too relieved to care. Now that you'd had a taste of them, there was no way you could turn back. And it seemed the men were in agreement, even if the details were a bit murky.

“So, we have a deal?” You asked.

“Deal,” they said in unison, and you shook on it, a clumsy arrangement of three hands.

Flatmates with benefits, how hard could that be?

© agreeewrites 2025. do not copy, translate or claim my writing as your own.

[thecchiiiiiiii]

Fallin’ all in you by Shawn Mendes – “But since you came along, I’m thinking baby, you are bringing out a different kind of me. There’s no safety net that’s underneath, I’m free. Fallin’ all in you” (Megan Skiendel x Reader)

Synopsis: Megan was already having a hard time with college, what more if she has to take a job and her trainer turns out to be you.

—☆

Megan never thought the smell of burnt coffee beans would become part of her daily routine.

But then again, she never thought she’d be working at the cafe near her campus where she gets her coffee.

College was already heavy: her backpack always felt too full, her wallet always too empty.

So, when her allowance started slipping through her fingers faster than she could refill her planner, she decided to trade a few hours of sleep for a part-time barista gig.

Megan never thought that juggling college and a part-time job would be easy.

But she also didn’t think it would lead her here, standing behind the café counter with her new black apron tied in a messy knot and your exasperated eyes boring holes into her soul.

She’d seen you before, the stoic barista at the café right across from campus where she religiously got her iced lattes to survive 8 AM lectures.

You were the “grumpy one,” according to the online reviews and the whispers of students. She never thought you’d end up being the one training her.

“You’re late.” Those were the first words you said to her on her first shift.

“I’m only two minutes—”

“That’s two minutes we’re not prepping the pastry counter. Let’s go.”

You didn’t smile. You didn’t even look at her properly. But when she nearly sliced her finger on the bagel knife, you pushed her hand away and did it for her without a word.

Megan’s first shift started with spilled milk— literally. She fumbled the milk jug trying to froth it for a cappuccino, and half of it hit the floor.

You watched her in silence from the register. A deep sigh came out from you, tired, sharp around the edges.

“Wipe it up before someone slips,” you said, voice flat, turning away before Megan could read the rest of your face.

But later, when she went to the supply closet for paper towels, she found a mop already leaning by the mess. And when she glanced back, you were across the room, pretending to sort coins in the tip jar, eyes firmly averted.

—☆

It happened again on a rainy Wednesday.

Megan accidentally punched in the wrong order during the rush hour, two drinks turned into six refunds. You snapped.

“For once, can you just think before you touch the register?” you hissed, voice low so customers wouldn’t hear but sharp enough to sting.

Her smile faltered. She ducked her head, muttering, “I’m sorry,” before grabbing the mop to clean the spilled chai latte near the counter.

When she turned away, you saw it. The quick swipe under her eyes, her shoulders trembling just once before she straightened up.

You felt it in your chest, an uncomfortable guilt. You wanted to say sorry but couldn’t find the words. So, you made her tea instead, left it on the staff counter. It was all you could manage. She smiled when she found it anyway.

The next day, she found a sticky note on the staff fridge: “Don’t forget to eat.”

She turned to ask if it was for her. But you were already at the espresso machine, headphones in, back turned, pretending you didn’t see her hold the note up. She stood there for a second, the corner of her lip curling, wondering. Then slipped it into her pocket and didn’t push.

—☆

That weekend, Megan sank into her usual corner table at the cafe. Her friends were waiting: Daniela, sprawled out with her laptop; Sophia, doodling in her sketchbook; Yoonchae, already halfway through her third matcha latte; Manon, giggling over some playlist; and Lara, her dorm roommate, scribbling notes.

“So,” Daniela said, raising an eyebrow. “How’s the new job? How’s grumpy?”

“Don’t call them that,” Megan mumbled.

“It’s true!” Manon chimed in. “They look like they’d hiss at the sun if they could.”

Sophia snorted. “Are they at least cute in a ‘sleeps 3 hours a night’ way?”

“Shut up” Megan shouted in a whisper.

—☆

Megan’s first week was chaos — the cash register jammed twice, a ceramic mug slipped through her fingers and smashed on the floor, and she mixed up a latte order for a mocha and nearly cost them a regular.

You sighed when it happened. Every time. A tired sigh, like you’d seen this a hundred times before and had hoped, somehow, that Megan might be different.

But instead of giving clipped answers, you’d hand her another rag to mop up milk, show her for the third time how to steam it properly, and say: “Again. Slower this time.”

One rush hour afternoon, she cracked another latte glass. A fancy branded one this time. She froze when you turned around.

“Do you know how much that costs?” you said, exasperated.

She flinched. “I’m sorry, I’ll— you can take it from my pay—”

You slammed the broom down beside her, not quite meeting her eyes. “Forget it. I’ll cover it.”

She stared. “But that’s like… $12 dollars, isn’t it?”

You grumbled, brushing past her, voice clipped: “Then stop breaking them, sunshine.”

She turned, watching your back as you pulled down another mug for the next order. But you never turned back. She didn’t say thank you. Didn’t know how.

But she also didn’t know if you meant that last part as mockingly or affectionately, she bet it was the first option.

Later that shift, another co-worker, Jace, cornered you by the fridge. “You know you’re too hard on her, right?” Jace hissed.

You clapped back. “She’s clumsy. She needs to learn—”

“She’s trying. And you care, obviously. Just— maybe show her you do, yeah?”

You didn’t answer. Couldn't.

That night, Lara found Megan sitting cross-legged on their dorm floor, coffee cup half-empty, textbooks open but forgotten. “You’re still upset?” Lara asked gently.

“It’s just… they don’t have to be so mean all the time.”

“You knew they were grumpy when you signed up for this, sunshine.”

“Yeah, but—” Megan sighed, tracing circles on her cup. “Sometimes I think they really hate me.”

Lara nudged her knee. “With the way they just covered for something you broke, maybe not”

—☆

Sometimes, your coldness stung harder than a dropped mug that would leave a scratch when shattered pieces comes in contact with her skin.

One night, she tried to joke with you while cleaning the milk wand. Her easy grin, the way she nudged your shoulder.

You were exhausted. Your laptop had crashed that morning, your last shift pay was docked for a mistake that wasn’t yours, and the café manager was on your back about the broken printer (the one Megan had shorted with spilled syrup).

So, when she giggled and leaned closer, you snapped. “Focus, Megan. This isn’t a playground. If you can’t handle it, quit.”

She froze. The café lights felt suddenly too bright. Buzzing like neon in her skull.

She nodded, backing away, the smile gone. “Yeah. Sorry.”

You saw the way her shoulders curled in. You hated yourself for it. But by the time you looked up, her back was already turned. And you didn’t have the words to pull her back.

Jace cornered you again in the alley behind the café, cigarette between his teeth, He didn't hold back. “You’re an ass, you know that?”

You didn’t meet his eyes, flicking your lighter open and shut. “She broke the printer. That’s fucking $200 dollars out of my pocket.”

“So? She’s trying. You’re not blind — you see how she kills herself to do it right. She worships the ground you stomp on, and you keep stepping on her neck.”

You bristled. “It’s better if she hates me. She can find better than—”

Jace’s laugh was sharp. “Then stop staring at her like you don’t want her to hate you.”

—☆

The next day, Megan was walking back from class with Daniela when she spotted a familiar silhouette in the courtyard. Head down, pen moving furiously over a battered notebook. A stack of textbooks taller than their coffee cups back at the cafe. She paused. Watched them rub their temples, squinting at the fading sunlight.

Daniela nudged her. “Is that—?”

“Yeah,” Megan whispered. It hit her then. The tired eyes, the constant tension, the sighs. You were just like her: another student trying to stay afloat.

Later in her shift, she found a cupcake in her locker. Vanilla frosting, sprinkled with chocolate shavings. Her favorite. No note. Just there, like magic. She poked her head into the back room, finding you reloading the syrup bottles.

“Did you…?”

You didn’t look up. “Don’t work with an empty stomach. Bad for your shift.”

She stepped closer. The backroom light flickered. She could almost see your eyes soft behind the mask.

“Hey,” she said, so gentle you almost flinched. “Thank you.”

You only nodded, once, curt — then busied yourself with the syrup. She didn’t push for more. She just stood there, cupcake in hand, smiling at your back.

—☆

A week later, Megan pulled her weight at the café. Really did. She double-checked orders, wiped down tables twice, restocked syrups without being asked. You noticed. Of course, You always did anyway.

When she turned around, sweaty hair stuck to her forehead, you handed her a fresh cup of water without a word.

“Thanks,” she said softly.

You didn’t smile, but your lips twitched. “Good job today.”

It meant more than any compliment she’d gotten that week.

—☆

Megan wasn’t at the café today, she was with her friends— Daniela, Sophia, Yoonchae, Manon, and Lara. They were sprawled on the dorm floor, ramen cups between them, laughing about Daniela’s latest crush when Lara, her roommate, elbowed Megan. “So. Grumpy barista. What’s the update?” Lara teased, wiggling her brows.

Megan groaned, face buried in her pillow. “They still hate me, Lara. Still so cold. I swear every time I drop something they lose a year off their life.”

Sophia snorted. “Or they lose money.”

Yoonchae leaned back against the bed. “But you like them.”

Megan peeked up. “Do not.”

They all laughed. Lara just said, “You talk about them too much for someone who doesn’t.”

—☆

You started noticing more. How she’d arrive early on weekends to stock napkins. How she’d bite her tongue and take the blame when you're not there to save her.

Once, you found her in the storeroom, sitting cross-legged on the cold tile floor, restocking sleeves of cups alone because she didn’t want to ask you for help.

“Megan.”

She jumped. “Sorry! I’ll finish soon—”

You bent down, took the sleeves from her hands, and helped her stack them on the shelf. She watched you, eyes wide, like you were doing something unimaginable.

“Don’t do everything alone,” you murmured.

“You don’t, either,” she shot back before she could stop herself.

You paused, caught off guard by how true it was.

There were moments when you’d catch yourself watching her. Wiping down tables, hair tied up in that messy bun that never held, sleeves pushed up, grin peeking through the stress.

Sometimes she’d feel your stare, look up, ready to say something, and you’d shut it down. A quick cough, a turned back, a mumbled order to restock the napkins. She’d stand there for a heartbeat longer, the corners of her lips wanting to curl, wondering why. Then decide not to ask.

Because every time she saw it— that warmth flicker in your eyes— you snatched it away before she could hold it.

—☆

Megan also found herself lingering too long behind the counter just to watch you work.

The way you frowned at the grinder, how your fingers tapped the register when the line got long. You, with your bitten-down nails and tired eyes, your quiet apologies when you brushed past her in the narrow kitchen.

She knew she shouldn’t think about you this much. It made no sense. She had midterms, rent, her group project with Daniela breathing down her neck.

But still, she found herself hoping you’d lecture her again about the milk frother just so you’d look at her a bit longer.

She wondered if you noticed how her heart leapt to her throat. If you noticed how she nearly dropped it just so you’d steady her wrist again.

That night, Megan lay awake in the dorm room she shared with Lara. Lara was asleep, one arm thrown over her notes.

Megan stared at the ceiling, replaying the way your hand brushed hers when you passed her a mug that afternoon.

—☆

A week later, Megan found you asleep on the break room couch. You’d been covering her shift and yours for three days straight because she’d had midterms and you told her you’d “handle it.”

Just like when you told yourself you didn’t care when she broke another glass jar. Or when she dropped a bag of beans that cost more than your grocery budget for the week.

You told yourself you’d take it from your paycheck instead of hers— no need to tell her.

She smiled too much for you to let her frown ever again.

She stood there for a moment, coffee mug in her hands, watching the rise and fall of your chest. She noticed the textbooks stacked beside you, half-finished papers with coffee rings.

She put the mug down by your side. Scribbled on the napkin beneath it was a note: ‘You owe me a coffee, okay?’ — the same words she’d once told a stranger in the library years ago.

—☆

One late shift, Megan dropped her pen under the counter. When she ducked down to grab it, she found your phone. Unlocked, sitting on the lower shelf.

One open note app:

Don’t forget to switch the filter for Megan’s shifts — she always forgets.

Megan likes vanilla syrup double pump, leave extra cup.

Megan’s paycheck. Cover breakages again this month. 40.

She sat there for a second, heart hammering, before you rounded the corner.

You froze. She scrambled to her feet, pushing the phone back.

Your mask was iron-tight. “Don’t touch my stuff, sunshine.”

She nodded, stepping back. “Sorry.” She wanted to ask, wanted to push. But you were already turning away. So, she didn’t.

—☆

One night, you stayed late doing the weekly inventory. You thought you were alone until you heard her soft humming.

She was in the corner, sorting the milk crates, her hair tied up, sleeves pushed past her elbows, face smudged with a streak of chocolate syrup she hadn’t noticed yet.

“Megan, go home.”

“I’m almost done.”

You leaned against the fridge, arms crossed, pretending not to stare at how focused she looked when she was in her element. No silly smile, no clumsy slip-ups, just Megan, determined and steady.

She caught you staring. “What?”

“Nothing,” you muttered. And when she turned away, you let yourself smile.

It should be nothing. Somehow it felt like something.

—☆

It happened after a slow Thursday shift.

The café was dark except for the humming fridge light. Rain pressed against the windows like a secret.

She leaned against the counter, arms crossed. You were behind it, closing the till.

“I saw your note, you know,” she said, voice quiet but steady.

You froze.

“The one about covering my breakages. The vanilla syrup.” She tilted her head, searching your face for something real.

You exhaled, shoulders dropping. You’d run out of places to hide. “You remember the library?” you asked instead.

“Finals week. You were there. You gave me a coffee. You said I owed you.”

She blinked.

“That was the worst week of my life. I was broke, failing, one missed meal away from passing out. And you — you gave me warmth when I didn’t think I deserved it.”

You stepped closer, eyes tired but soft. “I’ve been trying to pay it back ever since. The mugs, the printer, the broken filter— or everything that costed me— I don’t care. If it’s you, it’s fine.”

She looked at you. This tired, cold, grumpy soul who never let her see the softness unless she looked twice. And then she laughed, breathless, bright. “You owe me a coffee, huh?”

You grinned. Small, crooked, the first real smile she’d ever pulled from you.

“And now you owe me, sunshine. With that—” She didn’t let you finish.

She pulled you by your apron and kissed you like you’re the coffee she gets every day to start the day. You kissed back just as much.

The café didn’t smell like burnt coffee for once. It smelled like old espresso and rain and her shampoo.

When you pulled back, you whispered against her lips: “With that… maybe pitch in for the things you broke next time?”

She laughed into your mouth. “Deal. Grumpy.”

—☆

Authors note:

I'm that dino anon in charlvrs ask, gang hehe hiiiiiii

I'm posting drafts of old ideas I wrote back then so its not that polished. I'll edit it when I have time or when I'm in fhe mood to do so 😁

[lightsoutmatthews]

Hi Jo! Can’t wait for your next game 7 story 😌 can I request William Nylander gets upset with reader in front of his family and she feels sad/embarrassed about it, and he has to smooth things over and make it up to her? Thank you!

I really enjoyed writing this because it´s not something I thought about writing before 😁

I will make it up to you – William Nylander

The evening had been going fine. You had helped his mom with the salad, laughed a little too hard at one of Alex´s bad jokes, and chatted briefly with his aunt about the weather in Toronto versus Stockholm. It was comfortable, like it always was when you were hanging around his family.

You had even caught William looking at you a few times with that soft, almost private smile he reserved for when he was relaxed. Or so you thought.

His dad leaned back in his chair after dinner was finished, taking a sip from his wine glass before he asked. “So, William, any plans this summer? Besides working up and pretending to ignore your phone when your agent calls?” he joked, making you chuckle quietly.

William gave a tight smile. “Nothing locked in yet.”

His mom immediately jumped in. “You two should go somewhere warm. Get some son, it’s always so quick to get cold again in Toronto. Greece, maybe?”

“I´ve been saying that!” you added. “He keeps talking about planning a trip but hasn’t gotten past the “I´ll think about it” stage.”

You were smiling, it was a lighthearted comment. The mood was easy, until it wasn’t.

William shifted in his chair. “Okay, we don’t need to get into that right now.”

His voice wasn’t loud, but it was sharp. Cutting in a way that silenced the table more effectively than any raised volume could.

You blinked, caught off guard by his sudden bad mood. “I wasn’t- “

He cut you off mid-sentence. “Seriously, just leave it.”

His dad looked down at his plate. His mom cleared her throat and reached for the water pitcher, suddenly very interested in refilling glasses that didn’t need it.

“It was just a joke,” you tried to disarm the situation, trying to keep your voice steady.

William gave a tight shake of his head. “Yeah, well, didn’t feel like one.”

That stung. In front of everyone, that felt like more than a correction, it felt like a rejection. A call-out. Like you had said something offensive instead of playful and lighthearted.

Alex stabbed his potatoes and looked away, pretending not to notice the tension, but the damage was done. You were sitting there, cheeks hot, trying to figure out if it would make things worse to defend yourself or worse to say nothing.

You chose the latter. Quietly, you pushed your chair back.

“I´m going to run to the bathroom,” you said with a smile so tight it almost cracked.

No one stopped you.

Once the door clicked shut behind you, you sat on the edge of the tub and tried not to cry. Your chest ached, not just from the embarrassment, thought that was part of it.

You had known the Nylander´s for years now, ever since the six-month mark of your and William´s relationship and you got along great with everyone but that was not something you ever wanted to experience in front of them.

Being dismissed by someone you loved in front of that many people stung.

------------------

You didn’t stay in the bathroom long. You weren’t about to give anyone more reason to think you were being dramatic. So, you dabbed under your eyes, forced a natural expression and returned to the table.

Everyone had moved on. At least kind of.

The conversation was lighter now. Alex was telling a story about an awkward autograph encounter making most of the table chuckle.

William glanced at you when you sat down again, unfortunately, you had been together long enough that he probably noticed that you had shed a few tears in the bathroom. but didn’t say anything.

You on the other hand couldn’t even look at him, just focused on your plate that still held some leftovers and stayed quiet.

After dinner, you helped his mom clear the dishes, partly to avoid him, partly because you needed something to do with your hands.

“He didn’t mean anything by it,” Camilla said quietly as the two of you stood at the sink, rinsing glasses. Her voice was gentle, not accusing.

“I know,” you sighed. “I just… I don’t understand what I said that made him react like that.”

She gave you a sad smile. “He gets overwhelmed sometimes. Especially, when he feels like people expect something from him.”

“I wasn’t trying to pressure him,” you mumbled.

She put a comforting hand on your arm and gave you a squeeze. “I know. He´ll probably realize that soon enough.”

---------------------

Back at his apartment, the silence was thicker than the Swedish summer air. You had hoped he would say something first, acknowledge what happened, explain why he reacted that way, literally anything but he just kicked off his shoes and walked into the kitchen like nothing happened.

That’s when you finally broke because you couldn’t bear it anymore. “So, are we just not going to talk about that?”

He turned, confused. “Talk about what?”

You blinked at him. “Dinner? You snapping at me in front of your family? Ring a bell?” you huffed.

“God, you´re still on that?” he sighed making you take a step back at his attitude.

Still on that.

The words landed like a slap.

“I don’t want to fight,” you said, voice trembling. “But that really hurt. I love your family, but they don’t need to see that.”

He ran a hand through his hair. “You brought up something I told you I´m stressed about. I didn’t need that in front of everyone either.”

“I was joking, William. I wasn’t trying to call you out,” you replied, gentler this time.

“It didn’t feel like a joke.”

“Well, I can´t change how you feel about it, but it was and even if it didn’t feel like one to you, you didn’t have to embarrass me like that.”

Silence. Then, with less heat: “I didn’t mean to.”

“I know,” you sighed. “But you did.”

He looked at you for a moment, like he was finally seeing the damage. Like the wight of what had happened was just now registering.

“I´m sorry,” he mumbled. “That was out of line.”

You didn’t respond right away. You weren’t ready to offer him an out that easy.

He stepped closer. “I was on the edge. I shouldn’t have taken out on you, especially not there. That’s on me.”

You nodded slowly. “It made me feel like I didn’t belong.”

His face crumpled, just a little, someone who didn’t know him like you do wouldn’t have even noticed. “No. Don’t think that. You do. You absolutely do,” he scrambled. “My mom loves you. Alex asked me this morning if you were coming and actually smiled when I told him you would. That’s like a big deal for him.”

You smiled weakly, still not quite softened.

“I think I just…” he trailed off, searching for the right words. “I haven’t felt like myself lately. Everyone keeps asking me what´s next and I feel like I´m drowning in expectations. For next season, from the media, the team, my agent with all those new sponsorship opportunities. When you made that comment, even if it was small, it felt like another voice telling me I wasn’t doing enough.”

“I wasn’t,” you said firmly. “I´m not one of those voices.”

He reached for your hand. “I know and I´m sorry I made you feel like you were. That wasn’t fair of me.”

You let him interlink your fingers, but your shoulders were still tense. So, he kept going. “I need to get better at this. I shouldn’t take it out on you when I´m stressed. That’s not who I want to be.”

You nodded, still quiet. “It just sucks. I felt so stupid.”

“You´re not stupid,” he interrupted quietly. “God, no. You´re smart and funny and you make everything feel lighter when I´m stuck in my own head. That’s what that was, you trying to lift the mood and I shot you down like an asshole.”

You raised an eyebrow. “You said it, not me.”

He gave a soft laugh. “Let me make it up to you.”

“You don’t have to.”

“Yeah, but I want to.” He took your hand, kissed the back of it, then leaned in and kissed your forehead.

“Tomorrow, I´m planning something. Just us. No family, no expectations, no stress.”

“Are you finally booking a trip?” you asked, half-joking.

He smiled this time. “Maybe but I think we start with a walk by the water, ice cream, something simple.”

You hesitated, the nodded. “Okay.”

He pulled you into a hug. “I love you.”

“I know,” you said softly. “But show it better next time.”

“I will,” he mumbled into your hair. “Starting now.”

---------------

The next day, true to his word, William stuck to his promise.

He woke you up gently, coffee in hand and told you to dress comfortably. You walked through Djurgården in the morning sun, hand in hand, the city unusually quiet.

He let you pick the ice cream stand. You both got the same flavor by accident and laughed about it. No pressure, no tension, just you and him resetting.

Later, on a beach by the water, he turned to you.

“I´ve been thinking,” he said. “About how quickly I was to shut you down. I think it comes from this place where I expect the worse. Not from you but from myself.”

You looked at him confused. “What do you mean?”

“I think I´m afraid I won´t live up to what people think I should be. Not just as a player but as a boyfriend. As a guy. And when I feel like I´m failing, I go on defense.”

You nodded slowly, showing that you understood. “That makes sense, but you don’t have to protect yourself from me.”

“I know,” he answered. “That’s the part I need to work on.”

You rested your head on his shoulder. “I don’t expect you to be perfect. I just expect you to treat me with respect. Especially, when other people are watching.”

“Yeah, you´re right.”

After that you sat in silence for a while, the kind that felt less like a pause and more like a breath being taken together.

He reached for your hand again. “Still love me?”

You smiled. “Yeah, but don’t consider yourself completely forgiven just yet.”

He kissed the top of your head. “I can work with that.”

---------------

Later that evening, you returned to his parents’ house, at his request. He wanted to “clear the air” as he out.

His mom opened the door with a knowing look. You walked in together.

At dinner, he made a point to say – casually, but clearly – “By the way, about yesterday. I was an ass, that joke was funny. I was just stressed.”

His mom gave him a little nod, almost like she was proud.

Alex, without looking up from his plate, muttered, “Took you long enough to realize.”

Everyone laughed.

And just like that, the tension was gone.

That night, curled up in bed, William held you close to his chest after sleeping back-to-back the night prior.

“I hate that I made you feel small,” he mumbled. “That´s the last thing I ever want to do.”

“You didn’t make me feel small,” you answered quietly. “You made me feel alone. For a minute.”

He closed his eyes, exhaled and them almost whined “Even worse.”

You kissed his shoulder. “We´ll get better. Together.”

He nodded. “Yeah. Together.”

And for the first time in days, you both finally slept easy.

[tipsywithintent]

˚ ✦ What He Wouldn’t Say ˚ ✦

✧ Pairing: 2nd year Suna Rintarou × 1st year Reader

✧ Genre: Slow-burn, fluff, introspective, slice of life

✧ Word count: 1644

︶⊹︶︶୨୧︶︶⊹︶

Suna Rintarou liked watching things unfold.

Not in a nosy way - more like a passive curiosity. Drama, tension, and the dumb things people said when they thought no one was listening. He noticed it all. Stayed quiet. Let it wash over him while he leaned back, half-listening to the world with one earbud in and a faint smirk tugging at his mouth.

He didn’t get involved. Didn’t need to.

But you weren’t background noise.

You were louder than the others. Not in volume, but in presence. Clear, quick, never flustered. The kind of girl who called out missed reps without hesitation, who moved like she was always two steps ahead. High-ranking in class, clipboard always in hand, sleeves rolled up, and attention razor-sharp.

You didn’t flirt. Didn’t linger. You told Osamu to stop throwing sweaty towels around. Told Atsumu to hydrate. You weren’t trying to impress anyone - you were there to get things done.

And you made it known you didn’t do relationships.

"Distractions," you said once. No bitterness. Just a fact.

Suna got it.

But he still kept looking.

—

At first, it was simple. The sound of your pen during drills. The way you bit the inside of your cheek when reading notes. That small crease between your brows when the team’s stats didn’t line up.

Things no one else seemed to notice.

But Suna did.

You weren’t soft around the edges. You were sharp and efficient and maddeningly composed. Unbothered by teasing. Unshaken by compliments. When Atsumu made a pass at you (half-joking, always dramatic), you shut it down with a look so flat it made the whole team wince.

Suna liked that. Quietly. From a distance.

And that should’ve been enough.

Until it wasn’t.

—

It started on a Thursday.

The sky was washed-out blue. Warm wind. Lunch break. Suna had his usual spot on the back stairs of the gym, legs stretched, shadows dancing lazily across his knees.

He wasn’t waiting for you.

But then he saw you - down in the courtyard under the sakura tree, bento in your lap, sitting beside Osamu. You laughed at something he said. Light, offhand. Unburdened.

Your chopsticks nudged a piece of karaage into his box like it was a habit.

It shouldn’t have meant anything.

But it stuck.

Suna blinked slowly, jaw flexing. His onigiri tasted bland.

You never shared lunch with him.

He didn’t even know you laughed like that.

—

Practice went on as usual. Tosses, drills, sweat. But everything felt a bit… louder. More off-tempo.

You didn’t act different. Still focused. Still precise. Still barking reminders while keeping the med kit stocked and the towels clean.

But when you passed him a towel, your fingers brushed his by accident.

He moved away a second too fast.

You paused. Not long. But long enough.

—

Later, while the rest of the team headed out to refill bottles or sneak a break, Suna sat on the bench, elbows on his knees, staring at the floor.

You finished sorting cones into the storage bin. Quiet. Intentional. Then walked over and stood in front of him, arms folded loosely.

“You’re sulking,” you said.

He looked up, unimpressed. “Not sulking.”

“Mhm.”

He didn’t say anything else. Neither did you. But you stayed, eyes on him, waiting like you expected something.

“You like Osamu?” he asked finally.

You blinked. “What?”

“You were sharing food.”

Your brow arched. “He gave me extra karaage. I gave him back two pieces. That’s not flirting.”

He leaned back. “Still.”

You tilted your head, gaze narrowing just slightly. “Would it matter if it wasn’t?”

Silence.

Suna didn’t move. Barely blinked. His voice was flat, but a beat too late to be casual.

“No. Not really.”

Then he smirked, lazy again. “Just wouldn’t have brought you melonpan if I knew you were that easy.”

Your eyes flicked toward him, half-annoyed, half-surprised. There was a flush under your skin you didn’t try to hide.

But neither of you said more.

Suna didn’t explain what he meant. Didn’t tell you that he thought about you more than he should. That he’d overheard you saying you didn’t want to get distracted and still found himself wishing you’d make an exception.

—

The next day at lunch, you headed out to the courtyard with your bento in hand, eyes half-focused on your notes.

And there he was.

Suna, already sitting on the low wall beneath the sakura tree. His usual slouch. Phone in one hand. The other resting beside something wrapped in bakery paper.

You slowed.

He didn’t look up.

You considered your options, then quietly sat beside him.

Still no words.

But the melonpan was warm. Fresh. Resting there between you like it belonged. Not handed to you. Not offered. Just there.

Waiting.

You glanced at him.

He scrolled, unmoved.

But when your hand reached for it—when your fingers brushed the edge of the wrapper—he finally glanced over, just once.

You didn’t thank him. He didn’t need you to.

You ate beside him in silence.

And when Osamu passed by with his own lunch and a raised brow, you didn’t explain.

You stayed.

—

Practice felt the same after that.

Mostly.

You still called out plays. Still rolled up sleeves to tape fingers. Still ducked your head when you were scribbling notes mid-drill.

But Suna looked a little longer. Stood a little closer.

Didn’t speak more - but something shifted in the way he lingered behind after practice, waiting until you were done locking up the equipment cabinet before walking out with you.

Not a pattern. Not yet.

But it wasn’t nothing.

And he noticed.

—

One evening, after the rest of the team had left and the sun was striping the gym floor gold, he caught you in the hallway.

You were adjusting your backpack, flipping through your schedule.

“Why do you do all this?” he asked suddenly.

You glanced up.

“What do you mean?”

“This.” He nodded toward the gym. “The work. The stress. You could just focus on school.”

You studied him for a second, then shrugged. “Because it matters.”

“To whom?”

You looked away, a little softer now. “To me.”

He watched you carefully.

“I like being useful,” you added, quieter. “Even if no one sees it.”

“I see it,” he said.

You didn’t speak.

But your fingers stopped fidgeting.

And for once, you didn’t walk away first.

—

Suna didn’t need to chase things. That wasn’t his style.

But for the first time, he thought… maybe he would. Maybe this was worth it.

Even if it started slow.

Even if it never quite finished.

[siddyyyyyyyy]

By the Fireplace

BRUCE WAYNE X READER

MDNI wc: 1.2K summary: Finally snapping the sexual tension between you and your best friend. warnings: alcohol comsumption, dry humping a/n: It's not perfect but it's also nearing midnight so i don't care. Enjoy!!

It‘s been a relaxing evening so far, hanging out with your long time best friend in his lounge by the fireplace, a glass of whiskey in hand, and some deep talk. Bruce will never openly admit it, but he feels like you are the only one who understands him. While being slightly drunk, it‘s easier to relax and shut his mind off. Especially sitting beside you on the comfortable couch; he wants to stay like that forever.

The shared comfortable silence almost makes him fall asleep, but his mind can‘t seem to find complete peace beside you. Even when his head is leaning against the top of your head, he can‘t seem to fully relax yet.

You feel almost the same. You do feel relaxed, safe even, but something keeps stirring inside of you when you are so close to him. Ignoring it and taking another sip of your drink, you watch the fireplace crackle contentedly in front of you.

Bruce sighs out beside you, indicating his tiredness after talking about everything and nothing for hours.

»Want a refill?«

He leans off of you for the first time in probably half an hour and reaches for the whiskey bottle by the coffee table. You shrug and sit up more, letting him fill your glass with the dark liquid.

His movements are slightly disoriented, but he manages to get all the liquid into your glass, and then get more for himself. With a low hum, Bruce sips on his drink, eventually leaning back on the couch. His once perfectly put together appearance became more dishevelled, some strands of hair sticking out in different directions while his tie is resting somewhere in the room; long forgotten.

You also take another quick sip, already used to the bitterness and set it aside for now.

»So… I think it‘s time to go, isn‘t it?«

The time on your phone shows that it‘s well past one am, but Bruce thinks otherwise. A small whine leaves him, completely uncharacteristic normally, but very on point in his drunken state.

»C‘mon, you‘ve only been here for what… two hours?«

He sways on his spot as he leans up and turns to face you fully.

It‘s not exactly true, you‘ve been in his living room for six hours by now, talking nonsense with each other. Gossiping, mostly.

But with your intoxicated brains it‘s hard to tell anymore. So, logically, you sigh out and give in. How could you resist your best of bestest friend anyway?

»A few more minutes, then...«

And that‘s how easily you can make him smile again. It‘s crooked and his eyes are mostly unfocused, but he is satisfied with your easy compliance. And tonight, he seems to be bolder with his actions.

»C‘mere… please,« sighing out, he opens his arms and almost tackles you down with his hug, »such a good friend.« He mumbles against your shoulder, basically squeezing you tight with his arms. If it wouldn‘t been the alcohol, you would‘ve pushed him away by now and pretend to find the physical affection cringe. Not that he does it a lot, only rarely when he is sure you are both absolutely alone.

A second after, you hug him back and sigh out in relaxation. You both melt together into one not too long after, refusing to let go of the other while basking in the comfort.

»I‘m definitely sleeping here tonight.«

You are not sure if you refer to his arms or couch, not caring at this point. He takes your words seriously and squeezes you lightly, almost making your breath hitch.

»Mhm… damn right, you will.«

His voice drops lower, getting into a low whisper as he keeps you close to his chest, refusing to let go of the comfort and sweet scent of you.

Even though you didn‘t mean your words at first, you find yourself quickly accepting the fact that this night will be spend here. Hell, you wouldn‘t mind falling asleep right now like this.

A small groan leaves him and he finds himself nuzzling into your neck, searching for more warmth and most importantly your scent. He needs to make sure you are actually still there and not just a silly imagination he came up with.

Following his actions, you wrap you arms tighter around his neck, shifting to press closer. Your clouded brain can‘t help it, neither does his own and soon enough, your limbs are tangled with the other in a more chaotic way. Thanks to Bruce‘s master-brain, he finds a more comfortable position and lets you straddle his lap.

Finally seated, you both relax and simply enjoy the presence of the other. You don‘t know what changed exactly, but in the next minute he is all over you.

Hands groping gently at your curves and fats, lips tracing your skin down your neck and shoulder. Your shirt seems to be in the way, but he is also too lazy to tug it off just yet.

Your brain catches up on what‘s happening and by the time he already started, you can‘t just stop. Acting by logic and pure desire, you give into the act and tangle your fingers into his hair, guiding his head around a little.

Soon, the room fills his soft grunts and your heavy breathing. His hips desperatly jerk up and try to get friction, but it‘s harder in this position when his chest is pressed against yours and you are also pressed completely against him. Deciding you have enough of the friction that‘s barely even there, you lean him back into the back rest and do it your own way.

Hips grinding and sliding against his crotch earns a groan from both of you. The new friction feels more intense and delicious, soon getting breathless from it. His hands settle on your thighs and the small of your back, guiding you in a steady rythm.

Due to the effect of the alcohol, it‘s actually more sloppy than anything, but you both couldn‘t care less. It‘s sloppy, messy, hungry, whatever; you both need this.

Your heavy breaths turn into small whimpers, getting him riled even more than he already is. And then it happens, the final knot snapping without warning. You never came so fast before, maybe it‘s your intoxicated brain, maybe it‘s just Bruce alone, but it feels heavenly either way.

Your hips stutter and thighs shake on either side of him, and for a moment he stills too. A primal groan leaves him before he grabs onto your hips and continues, the pace faster and rougher. His brain immediately went to mush the second he realised what happened.

»Oh, yeah— s‘ good f‘ me… just like that, a little longer,« Bruce mutters under his breath, sucking new marks against the exposed skin of your neck and suddenly drags your hips painfully slow against him, trying to draw out as many needy sounds from you and milk out as many possible aftershocks from you at the same time.

The way he does it is enough to draw a second orgasm out of you, but your body simply gives out. A few final trembles and jerks, then you slump limp onto him.

Sighing out deeply, he caresses over your back and settles back comfortably with you. Your brain shuts off at the same time and are on the brink of falling asleep until he speaks up, voice low and dangerous.

»That‘s not all, doll… gonna stay the whole night, aren‘t ya?«

←MASTERLIST

[shouyuus]

host!bakugou who leans into the "bad boy" act for the host club but is actually kinda confused as to why so many girls like him, bc he's always been told that the way he speaks is kind of brash and lowkey offensive but he tries not to think about it too hard bc... well if it makes them happy, then it can't be that bad right?

host!deku who so badly wants to be a bit more badass but all his regulars tell him that they love his sweet personality and wide-eyed innocence, likes the way he blushes when they compliment his clothes or tell him he's cute; secretly, he wants ppl to see him as a bit more grown up, a bit more mature, so he constantly bugs bakugou for advice, only for bakugou to tell him that he actually thinks girls should be treated the way deku treats them -- sweetly, and with respect

host!shouto who is the classic "cool, aloof" type that all the girls go gaga for, and he's constantly in the top 5 (if not top 3) ranked hosts of the club on any given night, doesn't quite get it when everyone squeals when he rolls up his shirt sleeves to refill their drinks but doesn't mind it too much; he never forgets a birthday or a detail that his guests tell him, and makes a note to always send texts to his top regulars, wishing them good morning and goodnight

host!keigo who's the oldest and most experienced host, still in super high demand but happy to let the youngsters take the lead whenever they want to, but is still frequently requested by his most loyal clients; is a smooth talker and quick joker, so slick with his compliments that he's got the club record for most "swoon-worthy" moments, voted by the clients, of course; he's always down to share tips and knowledge with the younger hosts, happy to help out when he can, bc as seriously as he takes this job, he also knows that it's easy to let it go to your head, let it take over your life, so he tries to remind everyone to take it easy and just enjoy the process --

i mean, they're living the dream aren't they? making money while making people happy!

[hanmaitani]

Malleable

PAIRING - bf!Hanamaki Takahiro x Reader x Matsukawa Issei WC - 5K GENRE - Smut. no plot. i’m not sorry. CW - light dub-con (no explicit yes at first & mentions of reader being fucked when unconscious), filming, slight size kink, vaginal penetration, facefucking oral m!receiving, im unhinged sorry. PRONUNCIATION: mal·le·a·ble DEFINITION: able to be pressed permanently out of shape without breaking; easily influenced; pliable. SYNOPSIS - Playing anything other than video games with your bf and his best friend was not the original intention…but who are you to complain about it?

It wasn’t uncommon for me to come home and find Issei in my room, or even in my bed. His body taking up my side of the bed as he leaned against the headboard, game controller in his hand as his other pushed away the leg of Takahiro. Takahiro who was laying on his own side of our shared bed, on his stomach and facing the TV. Shouts and threats easily coming out of their lips, directed at each other as their video game went on.

I was generally happy to leave them be, let them have their moment as I went to run any errands I’d missed throughout the week. Today was the first time I’d had absolutely nothing to do. And coincidentally, Takahiro had offered to let me play with them. So in addition to the usual two boys on my bed for game day, I was laid in the center of the bed, nothing but a pair of loose shorts and a t-shirt on my body as I laid the same way as Takahiro. His hands guiding mine on my controller every few minutes as I tried to keep up with the boys.

My eyes were too focused on the screen, trying to match fairly against the two that were already going easy on me. Too focused to notice the way Takahiro kept glancing back at Issei, and facing the wrong way to notice what Takahiro was. The way that Issei’s eyes zoned in on my thighs everytime they squeezed together when I tensed up because of the game. The way he watched my ass with a smirk every time I adjusted my hips, squirming in anxiousness at the way I was clearly losing the game.

It took a few rounds of me getting my ass kicked in the game for me to decide that maybe I just needed to walk away and come back. “I’m gonna go get some drinks, more of the same for you two?” I asked as I climbed over Takahiro to get out of bed and head for the door. They both nodded their consent and I was quick to head downstairs to refill all of our drinks. It wasn’t much work and didn’t take long, but I thought that it must be a great way to reset my head so that I wouldn’t get beat in the game as fast in the next round.

Issei and Takahiro had been talking when I reentered the room, but it seemed like my presence was enough to disband the conversation. I gave them both a weird look but shrugged and laid back down where I’d previously been, nestling my body against Takahiro’s. I quickly let myself drop back into the game, smiling when Issei quickly lost and it became just Takahiro and I in the game. I barely registered the movement on the bed behind me until I felt fingers brush along the hem of my shorts.

My body froze quickly, my eyes widening and flicking over to Takahiro, but he was just watching the screen. He smirked lightly, not bothering to look over at me as he spoke. “Keep playing sweetcheeks, he’s playing his own game.” He mumbled and guided my head back to the TV quickly.

I felt a small whine come out of my throat as I felt Issei’s fingers push my shorts to the side. His palms easily cupping against my ass and his thumbs brushed against my core through my panties. I bit my lip, trying to keep my sounds to myself as Issei’s hands pulled my thighs apart. My eyes flicked back to Takahiro but he seemed completely indifferent to what was happening with his best friend.

Now I would be lying if I said that I hadn’t thought about Issei this way, or even mentioned to Takahiro once or twice, while drunk of course, about possibly sleeping with someone else. But I’d never imagined something like this happening, laying next to my boyfriend as his best friend was being mesmerized about how my thighs clenched when his fingers moved.

Issei’s hands were distracting as I tried to keep up with Takahiro in the game. He was slow in his movements, pressing just a single finger past my underwear and brushing against the wetness settling between my legs. I couldn’t help the whine that fell past my lips then, my head tumbling forward as Issei’s finger dragged up and down my slit.

Takahiro finally dropped his game controller, leaning up to watch what his friend was doing with my body. “You don’t have to be gentle with her.” He teased with a chuckle and Issei’s huff of laughter fell on deaf ears as I focused on the way two of his fingers suddenly sunk into me.

I whined easily, clenching around his digits. “Fuck.” Issei let out a groan as he pulled his fingers out before letting them sink back in. “She’s so fucking tight, Makki.” I felt my breathing stutter, my hands tightening around the controller still in my hands as Issei’s fingers slowly worked in and out of me. I was so focused on the way his fingers curled inside of me that I hadn’t noticed Takahiro’s hands touching my jaw until his fingers were prying open my jaw and pressing a ring between my teeth to keep my mouth open just wide enough for it to ache.

I whined up at him, eyes meeting his as he smirked down at me. “Wanna see your pretty tongue hang out for me sweet cheeks.” He pinched one of my cheeks after tightening the strap that held the ring in place and smiled when I whimpered around the gag, my tongue trying to press into the bottom of the ring. Issei’s fingers slipped out of me but quickly grabbed my hips instead as he and Takahiro pulled my body off the bed and maneuvered me onto my hands and knees. “Stay.” Takahiro instructed playfully as I watched him reach for his shirt, dragging it off his body easily. I watched him undress, a little drool starting to collect along my lips but I was quick to lick it off. I could feel Issei’s clothes drop onto the bed next to me but refused to disobey Takahiro and move to watch.

That decision caused my body to jerk forward in surprise when Issei’s fingers slipped back into me suddenly. “Don’t wanna break my new toy.” He joked when I caught Takahiro giving him a disapproving look. “You have such a pretty little cunt princess.” Issei mumbled, voice sounding as dazed as I felt under his touch.

“Ah, ah, ah.” Takahiro’s fingers drew my attention back to him as he tapped on my tongue as it curled in my mouth. “Tongue out.” He instructed and I obeyed, despite the feeling of drool slipping down the muscle that I wanted to pull back into my mouth. “Good. Now I want your eyes on me, okay?” I nodded lightly as he stood above me, eyes fixated on his as I looked up. Issei’s fingers were still slow in their movements, making me feel full but never giving enough friction.

I watched as Takahiro leaned off to the side, picking his phone up from where he’d left it on the shelf, before pointing it at me. “Wanna keep this memory, yeah? Look into the camera for me?” He smiled when I obeyed, focusing my eyes on the camera lens. He laughed then, and turned his phone sideways to capture me in the frame better before tapping on the screen a few times. “I got a better idea, actually.” The TV screen behind Takahiro came alive again as his phone synched up, my face now lit up on the screen, moving as Takahiro moved his camera. “There, so Mattsun can see your cute little faces too.”

Issei’s fingers slipped into me deeper and my eyes rolled slightly, a strangled whine coming from my lips as he bumped against a sensitive spot. “Fuck, that’s hot.” Issei noted as he flicked his eyes between the TV screen and where I was stuffed with his fingers.

“Don’t have to prep her that much Mattsun,” Takahiro chuckled, smirking at his friend over my body, ignoring the way I looked up at him, “she liked it when it hurts.” Issei groaned a little at the thought, eyes training on how I stretched around just two of his fingers, imagining his whole length. “Hey,” Takahiro tapped my cheek for attention and I looked up at him, “Mattsun’s pretty big, want him to fuck you dumb?”

Takahiro’s grip on my chin forced my head to nod as I whimpered. He hooked his finger into the gag and pull it out of my mouth slightly, nodding his consent for me to verbalize the request. “Please Issei,” I mumbled back to the man behind me, feeling his fingers curl again, “wanna go dumb on your cock.” Takahiro smiled, shoving the gag back into my mouth, cutting off my protest as Issei withdrew his fingers.

Takahiro was smirking, a devious thing on his lips as he watched my hips try to push back towards Issei. I couldn’t be bothered to think about why Takahiro looked so smug as I whined around the gag when I could feel Issei lining up being me. “You’ve no idea how big he really is do you, sweet cheeks?”  He smirked, bringing the camera back to my eye level. “Just my dumb little cutie, aren’t you?” I nodded my head rapidly, looking up into Takahiro’s eyes, ignoring the camera. He clicked his tongue at me in disappointment. “Keep your eyes on the camera baby,” he tapped his finger against the phone next to the lens and watched as I followed instructions, “wanna watch you fall apart over and over again.”

I was too focused on trying to push my hips towards Issei as I kept my eyes on the camera, that I missed the way Takahiro nodded back to Issei. Issei was quick to push his hips against mine, slowly pushing his way in. The scream that left my mouth was barely muffled by the gag as I fell off my arms, top half collapsing onto the bed. The pain radiating through my lower half had tears pooling in my eyes, broken whines falling from my tongue as my head dropped forward. It felt like I was being split down the middle as he continued to push in. Takahiro’s fingers lifted my chin back up, putting my expressions on display for the camera.

I whined and panted, trying to catch my breath, my hips unwillingly trying to move away from him to ease the stretch. “Hey,” Issei laughed as his hands caught my hips and pulled them back up and into place, “ you asked for this.” He stopped moving and I felt so full, trying to whine about it but the words wouldn’t form around the gag. “You seem like you’re pretty full baby.” He was laughing but I nodded desperately, agreeing with his comment. I could feel some of my tears leak down my cheeks, feeling him throb inside of me, stretching me out. I could hear his fake pout in his voice then, “but I haven’t even bottomed out yet.” My eyes snapped up to Takahiro quickly, both widening as I looked to him for help. It was only a split second, right before they rolled back when he pushed the rest of the way in harshly.

A wet sob choked around the gag in my mouth as Takahiro kept my head up, capturing the way my eyes squeezed shut, tears falling down my cheeks as I tried to adjust to him, unable to whine about how it felt like too much. “But pretty girl,” Takahiro’s voice was condescending as his hand stroked my cheek gently, “you still want Mattsun to fuck you dumb right?” I paused for just a split second before I was nodding again, desperate to be good for them, make them happy.

Issei was slow at first, hands firm on my hips as he pushed mine away from his. A series of groans and curses fell from Issei’s lips as his hands squeezed my hips. He was pulling my hips back to him slowly again. I couldn’t help but whimper as he continued his slow pace, the pain mixing into pleasure. Overwhelming as he pulled my body to his pleasure, restraining himself as he dragged me back and forth. “Fuck, she feels too good.” Issei groaned, voice strained as he spoke over me.

Takahiro was taking in the way my tongue lolled out of my mouth through the gag, my watery eyes staring through the camera, glazed over as I felt dizzy. “C’mon, Mattsun, really give it to her. She’s already about to cum.” I whined, knowing he was right, the tightening in my stomach winding tighter by the second.

Issei’s hips picked up pace then, and I shrieked as he rocked his hips back into me. His pace was quick and I swore I could feel him in my throat. I could barely register the sound of his hips slamming against mine with the way his cock bumped against my cervix with every thrust, deliciously painful. “Stop tryna run, baby.”  Issei growled, his hands dragging my hips back up to him from where they’d started to drop. Takahiro came back into my vision, his smirk behind his camera as his fingers kept my head up. I could feel my eyes starting to cross, the world around me turning double as I focused on the way Issei felt pounding into me over and over again.

“C’mon sweet girl,” Takahiro cooed, his fingers finding the gag in my mouth again to pull it out, “tell me how much you like Mattsun inside you.”

“Feels so-” a whine ripped through my mouth as Issei slightly changed the angle of his hips, a shaky sob fell past my lips. “Feels good Hiro, love love-” I screamed slightly as Issei thrusted harder. “Feels so-” I cried out again as Issei leaned his upper body over mine, pushing into me impossibly deeper, his arm wrapping around my hips so his fingers could brush my clit. My vision blurred out as my fists gripped the comforter under me. Issei was unrelenting as my orgasm ripped through me, tears flooding my cheeks as I convulsed under him.

Takahiro clicked his tongue at me in disappointment. “You too dumb to ask for permission already?” He teased and I whined, regret trying to fill my body but the way Issei was pounding into me still, it was hard to focus on anything but that. “That’s okay. Mattsun, if she can’t ask anyways, she wants us to pull everything we can from her.” Takahiro tilted my head to the side, a different angle for the camera to catch the drool falling off my tongue and coating my chin, mixing with my tears. “Look so messy, so pretty like this, hmm?” I nodded softly, whimpering agreement. He stood back up then, tapping his tip against my tongue for just a second before thrusting into my mouth.

My body jerked back involuntarily in response, but it immediately had my eyes crossing from the way I accidentally impaled myself further on Issei’s cock. I choked around Takahiro and watched as he passed the phone back to Issei, both pressing into me further to lean towards each other.

“Look pretty back here too.” Issei told me, the vision on the TV screen now showing Issei stretching me out. He pulled out slowly and reveled in how I leaked my own juices around him before quickly shoving back inside of me. I jerked slightly, eyes rolling at the feeling of him thrusting back into me. “Look how stretched you are princess, can’t even tighten up around me can you?” I whined around Takahiro as he took the phone back from Issei.

Takahiro pointed the phone back at my face, still not moving down my throat as he spoke. “Mattsun, why don’t you fill her up now? You want Mattsun’s cum, sweet thing?” My eyes widened at the prospect, and I could feel my body tense up. “Look how excited she is Mattsun.” He teased, and I could only imagine that Issei was now watching my face on the screen. “You’re gonna watch later how desperate you look for it. Now,” he chuckled and pulled out of my mouth, leaving me panting and trying to catch my breath, “why don’t you beg him for it baby.”

Issei didn’t even give me the chance to catch my breath before he picked back up at an unrelenting pace. Small shrieks left my lips as I babbled, attempting to ask for it but too overwhelmed with the way he was ramming into me over and over again, chasing his own high.

“You’re so cute tryna beg.” Issei teased, laughter coming from both him and Takahiro as they pulled my upper body off the bed. “Hand me the phone Makki, wanna record her taking it.” I whined at the idea and my eyes rolled as Issei’s thrusts got even rougher.

“Here baby, watch.” Takahiro gripped my chin and directed it straight at the screen, forcing me to watch the way my pussy swallowed his cock up every time. Clinging onto him as he pulled back. “Look at your cute little cunt trying to take him. Want him to fill you up with cum?” I nodded my head desperately, whiny semblances of the word yes falling from my lips like prayers. “Then you gotta watch him do it.” I nodded in agreement even though my vision was blurred by tears and trying to focus them was too hard for me.

Issei’s thrusts got sloppy quickly, never losing their perfect angle and depth though. I could barely register the feeling of his fingers digging into the plush of my hip, but I could see the indents caused on the screen as he pressed himself inside of me as far as he could. I whimpered at the feeling of being filled as he painted my cervix. I could make out his hips twitching on the screen and I was trying to focus on it.

I tried to protest the loss of him as he pulled out but Takahiro shushed me softly, making me watch the screen and Issei dipped the camera lower. Issei’s thumb brushed against my clit and I shrieked slightly, not expecting the sensation of the friction on the sensitive spot. My hips jerked forward slightly only to be caught by Mattsun’s free hand. “Stay still.” He ordered. “You’re ruining the shot.” He chuckled after the sentence and I could feel my core clench up in need again. The action caused some of his cum to seep out and I bit my lip at the sight of the thick white liquid beginning to drip. “There it is.” I could hear the smile in his voice as his fingers spread my lower lips open to show it off more. He was quick to collect his dripping cum and push them back in with his fingers, curling them immediately to hear the moan that was forced out of my throat at my oversensitivity. “So cute all overstimulated.”

I saw the camera move before I registered the feeling of the mattress shifting as Issei moved from behind me. Issei was in front of me within seconds. My eyes trained on the motion of his hand, stroking himself still. I couldn’t help the small bit of drool collecting on my lips as I took in how big he looked up close. His large hand wrapped tightly around the base, tugging on it to keep it hard. I could hear them talking but was too focused on the way it looked, entranced by the small bit of his cum still leaking out of the tip and dribbling onto his fingers.

I squeaked suddenly when two pairs of hands quickly flipped me over, my back connecting with the bed as Takahiro settled himself in between my thighs. I barely registered the burn in my thighs as he lifted my knees, pushing them open and further up my body. “Favorite thing about her?” He wasn’t speaking to me, but to Issei, pretending like I wasn’t below the two of them. “She tightens up between rounds.” He chuckled as he sheathed himself inside of me in one quick thrust.

I cried out as my body was pushed up on the bed slightly, head dropping off the edge. Takahiro didn’t fill me nearly as much as Issei had, but he’d studied my body like it was his religion. Knew me inside and out, every perfect angle and sensitive spot on my skin. He didn’t waste any time picking up a steady pace, hitting the right spots so sweetly. I couldn’t help the breathy moans falling from my lips, especially with the dizzy feeling filling my brain from my head hanging the way it was.

“Look at this.” Issei pressed his hips towards my face, lining his cock next to my face, base near my mouth. I whined when his large palm rested over my throat, dragging lower until he stopped where the tip of his cock ended. “How far down her throat I could go.” I whimpered, whether it was from fear or excitement, though, I couldn’t tell you. “I suggest you take a deep breath, princess.”

I gasped as Takahiro delivered a particularly harsh thrust into me and Issei took the chance to shove his cock past my lips, still wet from my drool. It was like it was easy for him to force his was into my throat, even when I could feel it constricting. My head felt like it was swimming from the pressure as he settled himself into my throat. I could barely process his cooing, praise as he instructed me to relax. He didn’t stop until my nose was pressed snugly against his balls.

“There you go, sweet little thing.” I was sure it was Takahiro’s voice, but with the way Issei’s hand settled back over my throat, I couldn’t be positive. I could feel it moving over his bulge and I tried to whine but it couldn’t come out quite right around him. I could register them talking but it was muted, muffled sounds in my ears as my vision blurred out. My focus was only taken by the way Takahiro continued to thrust against the most sensitive spot inside of me, his thumb circling my clit, as Issei’s hand not on my throat tweaked at one of my nipples.

The pressure in my core was building and making me dizzy, but so was the pressure in my lungs, the urge to breathe forcing my throat to constrict around Issei’s length even more. I could feel his fingers tense whenever I did. My blurry vision started to darken around the edges, my chest tightening even more as it did. I didn’t even register my hand coming up to tap against Issei’s thigh until he was pulling away from me.

Air flooded my lungs and coughed as I gasped. Strings of drool and Issei’s precum dripped onto my cheeks. It took me a second to register that Issei had crouched down, propping my head up to put ease on my airway as he rested it against his shoulder. I could see Takahiro from this angle, diligently pressing his hips into mine over and over. I could feel Issei smearing the wetness into my cheeks as his voice finally started to register in my ears.

“So pretty like this, such a good girl for us.” He praised, his thumb slipping to brush over my bottom lip. I was so focused on the way Takahiro pounded into me, the feeling overwhelming as Issei’s words and his soft kisses against the tears on my cheeks. I barely realized I was about to cum until I already was. “Just like that.” Issei chuckled against my skin as I sobbed out moans, back arching and head falling into his chest. Takahiro didn’t slow down, instead he leaned over me, angle different but just as sweet, rougher if anything. “You gonna let us use you until you pass out?” Issei’s words sent a wave of excitement down my spine, my eyes trying to focus on his.

“You’re gonna let us right, sweet cheeks?” Takahiro’s voice was mixed with pants and moans and I whimpered at the way his hands tightened around my legs. “Then let us keep using you til we’re done?” I was nodding before I could even think about it. Trying to form the word ‘yes’ but my tongue refused to form the sounds. “Such a good girl.”

Issei guided my head back to where it was before, hanging off the bed, but this time also braced by his hand on the back of it. “Relax, baby, we’ll take care of you.” He muttered, waiting for me to breathe in before he sheathed his cock back into my throat, slowly pressing in until the tip was as far as it would go. He drew himself out until my lips were just wrapped around the tip before pushing back in. “Relax baby.” Issei picked up his pace, fucking my throat, the strain forcing more tears out of my eyes. Leaning forward, his fingers bumped against Takahiro’s, both of them rubbing my clit, bringing me over yet another edge.

My vision was blurry as I tried to focus on something, ground myself, but their different paces made me dizzy. I barely registered the sound of my own gagging mixed in with my strangled noises. My vision started to darken again, but I relaxed this time, focusing on the overwhelming pleasure. Every piece of my body felt like it had been lit on fire. My last memory before I finally passed out was the faint feeling of air rushing back into my lungs and ropes of sticky liquid coating my face.

My eyes felt heavy when I finally woke up, limbs tangled into my comforter. I blinked a few times, trying to process my surroundings as I yawned. My hair was damp, splayed out on my pillow. I could faintly pick out the scent of my own conditioner. They’d washed me up. I was in Issei’s shirt, the one he’d been wearing when he’d come over, soft and worn, and too big for my body. I let out a soft whine as I tried to sit up, the burning in my legs suddenly revealing itself.

“Hey, you’re awake.” I turned my head to see Takahiro walking in. He sat next to me, brushing the hair out of my face as he pressed a soft kiss into my cheek. “How are you feeling?” He spoke to me softly and I leaned into his touches.

“So-” I coughed, my throat scratchy from Issei’s abuse. “Sore.” I whispered, ignoring the crack in my words.

He hummed in acknowledgement. “I bet. Tired too, yeah?” I nodded along to his words and he helped move the blanket off of me. “Yeah, you took a pretty nice nap there.” He chuckled as he wound his arm under my legs before lifting me up and fully into his arms. “Let’s go get you some dinner, okay? Issei’s already down there.” I nodded sleepily, letting him carry me down to the living room.

“Hey, morning princess.” Issei mumbled, kissing my forehead after Takahiro sat me down on the sofa next to him.

I smiled in response. “So what happened?” I questioned, knowing that I was out before they finished, but intrigued as to how long it went on, the idea of it still sending sparks through my body.

“You wanna watch it, pretty girl?” Issei asked, dragging my body closer to his. My eyes trained on the sweats low on his hips, hiding what I now knew to be a monster, but I nodded along in agreement, heat already building up between my thighs.

“Why don’t you keep Mattsun warm then, hmm?” Takahiro smirked as he stepped away from the couch, moving towards the kitchen. “He’ll pull up the video for us.”

“Come here.” Issei tugged his sweats down slightly, pulling his cock back out. Now, fully conscious, I could whine about how big it was, even half hard like it was now, it was daunting. He guided my hips over his, keeping me facing the living room TV as he pressed his tip into my entrance.

I whined at the stretch, still aching from earlier. He was much easier to take when he wasn’t fully hard but it was still a feat. Issei moaned softly in my ear. “Feel how good your cunt is for me. Stretching for me, drooling over my cock.” He had a hand on my chin, keeping my head directed to the screen where my face was now appearing. “Gonna watch how pretty you look when you go dumb from my cock.” I nodded in agreement, whimpering when I could actually feel Issei grow inside of me, stretching me out more as he did.

“You having fun, sweet cheeks?” Takahiro teased, as he leaned against the entrance of the living room. I bit my lip, a small feeling of guilt creeping into me, but the smirk on his lips told me I had nothing to feel guilty for. “Maybe we should share you more often.” He mused, laughing when I nodded my head softly. “Yeah, Mattsun likes that idea too.” Issei’s lips were on my neck now, humming as he sucked a mark into my skin.

I moaned lightly at the thought, realizing they’d already talked about it. Sharing could be nice.

a/n i had to bring it back truly happy birthday strawberry boy

TAGLIST -

@intergalacticrory @tsukiran @awkwardaardvarkforever @all-in-the-fandoms @mightyknight501

@pearl-blue-musings @qichun @megumuro @s0uldarling @samus-onigiri-stand

@seiri-ously @deepenthevoid @albakugo @winniethepooh-lover @unriding

@all-in-the-fandoms @little-miss-naill @lumestar @theycallmenanamisgirl @cl-0-vr

@iluv-ace @appalost @rockrose-blossoms @afire24 @crystal-lilac

[a-mint-bear]

Her Favorite Employee

Female Yandere x Female Reader

You're the personal assistant of your company's CEO. She's controlling, married to her job, and runs you ragged. But you're good at your job, and she loves to let you know how much she appreciates you.

----------------------------------

"What's on my schedule for this afternoon?"

A quick recap of what was on the docket for that day as you dropped off her coffee order. Soon she’d be in back to back meetings while you handled her calls and made the rounds to the various teams she oversaw. Same as most mornings.

“Wonderful. Make sure to have the Hillmore reports on my desk by three, and send a nice gift basket to Reynolds in Sales. His wife just had twins.”

You told her the reports would be done before her lunch with R&D, and you’d already sent a basket with her name on it two days ago which included a gift certificate to a local spa for the new mother.

“I knew you’d be on it.” She smiled into her coffee. “Much obliged, love.”

You nodded behind your tablet, trying not to be obvious about your lack of eye contact. It was torture when she called you that.

It was a lot, working under her. But at the same time, it was oddly… fulfilling. She gave you so many responsibilities and trusted, more expected, you to come through. Every time.

Not even six months ago you'd been just another employee. It was a decent job; Good pay and benefits, and the work was easy enough, the hours sucked sometimes but it wasn't like you had a rich social life it was cutting into.

You didn’t make any friends in the office, you weren’t sure any of your coworkers even knew your name. To them, you were just “that one girl who refills the paper in the copier”. Because someone has to, and you work with a bunch of animals who think that the paper just magically replenishes itself. Now you were “The Boss’ secretary”, that was at least more respectable? Maybe?

But before you were her assistant, you were just her “favorite employee”. And that was more trouble than it was worth.

She didn’t care much for being called by her surname like most of the superiors in the company, but no one was brave enough to call her by her given name. So most in the company just called her Boss or Miss. And she liked it that way. You were pretty sure she just liked how intimidating it made her seem.

She was always around. At first, you thought it might've been because she was your boss. She was probably just trying to see if you were any good at your job, maybe looking for a reason to fire you if she noticed anything off. But ever since you were hired, it just kept happening. Your first days in the office quickly turned into weeks and she was still circling you for seemingly no reason.

You could excuse it to yourself, maybe she was the micromanaging type. But her attention always seemed to be on you, almost exclusively, more than anyone else in the office. And it was… intimidating. For a couple of reasons.

She seemed to love… picking on you, if you could call it that. Any extra projects she needed done? You were her first choice. Fixing the new guy's botched paperwork before a big deadline? You were on it, of course. Overtime? Yup, you. It would be more annoying if you weren't getting paid really well. But you always got it all done, ahead of schedule, without any complaints.

And if she wasn't being oddly petty, she was being… oddly flirty.

Sitting on the edge of her desk when she talked quarterly reports over with you. Leaning a little too close when she took something off your desk. Her fingers brushed yours when you handed her things. A bump to your arm with hers here, a touch to your shoulder there… Every time you wondered if you were just imagining things, it happened again. She never did anything overtly inappropriate or pushed past any sign you were uncomfortable, but the truth was… you weren’t. It was a bit much to have this beautiful woman pay so much attention to you, but you weren’t going to lie, it wasn’t… the worst thing in the world.

It contrasted hard with her usual put-together image, prim and proper and out of reach from the mere mortals in the office. But as far as you’d noticed, she didn’t act this way in front of anyone else in the office. And you didn’t know what to do with that information.

You weren’t sure if any of it was on purpose, or if she was just flirtatious by nature. It was always hard to tell with women, as a woman. Was she into you? Was she even attracted to women?? Or did she get her jollies by flustering the office loner?

She stayed just as late as you most nights, if not longer. And checked up on you. And chatted with you when she had a minute. You just didn't get why. You weren't anyone special. And she was so…

She was gorgeous, always so well put-together and stunning. You'd never met a woman who was so beautiful it made you nervous, like a dumb teenager. But it couldn't outweigh how much she got on your nerves with how she was always in your business, so the conflicting emotions just made for long, exhausting workdays.

If she knew you were annoyed with her, she never let it show. But it wasn't long before you realized just why she'd been watching you so closely.

One day, all the creeping around and odd attention she was paying you started to make sense. The Boss Lady called you into a meeting with herself and the head of H.R. and just…

Offered you a promotion. Just like that.

"I've been really impressed by your work ethic.” She was being so poised and professional, every word out of her mouth sounded so assured, even though you were very much a deer in the headlights at the moment. “I need someone with a work/life balance that matches my own and can work with my schedule to be my personal Executive Assistant. Your hours would increase, but there will be a significant pay raise and company benefits.”

And boy, what a significant pay raise it was. You'd have to be a complete idiot to turn it down. It meant more responsibilities in the company and you'd be expected to dress up a bit more for appearance's sake, but a few suit jackets and skirts with nice dress shoes would be more in your price range now. It would mean spending A LOT more time with her though, and you weren't sure if your weak heart could take the damn near constant presence of this woman.

But maybe, SOMEHOW, it really was all in your head. Maybe the proximity to her while she was vetting you for the position just had you all mixed up?

Maybe the money was making you too eager to accept, but accept you did.

And it was normal, or as normal as things could be around that place, at least for a little while.

----------------------------------

You were scheduling some meetings for her and logging them in her calendar when another co-worker knocked on your office door.

“Oh hey, do you have a minute?”

You recognized them… You didn’t remember their full name but everyone called them Jay.

They started a few months after you did, and they seemed nice enough. Right now they looked a little out of sorts, which was unusual. They were usually the cool, flirty, sporty type who was good friends with everyone, not an awkward bone in their body. The two of you weren’t friends or anything, but there was no bad blood between the two of you.

You asked them what was up, and it took them a minute before finally spitting it out.

“Okay, so… totally tell me to screw off if I’m barkin’ up the wrong tree here.” It was kind of funny seeing them so nervous. “Would you wanna… go to dinner tomorrow?”

Without thinking, you pulled up your planner, asking if there’d been an email you’d missed about some team-building thing. But they just laughed.

“No, I meant… Just you and me.”

You froze, wondering if you had heard right. You cut to the chase, asking if they meant like a date?

“We don’t have to call it a date, if you don’t want to!” They held up their hands defensively, like you were someone they were worried about offending with this. You wondered how people saw you around here for them to be so nervous. Or maybe they just… really liked you that much. “But… yeah. I wanted to ask you out.”

You gave it a moment to sink in.

You weren’t automatically thinking of saying no. Did that mean you wanted to say yes? They were tall and attractive, in a “soft beanpole with a cute haircut” kind of way. They looked good in their usual button up with the rolled-up sleeves, and pulled the look off better than half the people around the office. The opposite of your very feminine boss. Looks-wise they were nothing alike, but both had the same confident, assertive air about them. Maybe that was appealing to you, and Jay was just as much your type as the Boss was.

You scolded yourself. Why were you thinking about her? Now?

At the end of the day, you didn’t see any reason to say no. It could be a nice time. This stupid not-a-crush you had on your boss was never going to go anywhere, so why not try and see someone who went out of their way to ask you out? If it didn’t work out, you would handle it like an adult.

Jay looked nervous that you’d been thinking for so long. You told them you had a pretty packed schedule, but if you could get a night off, it would be nice to have dinner with them tomorrow. You half-jokingly told them that if it went well, you’d slap the “date” label on it. Their cheeks went a bit red, but they were grinning ear to ear.

“Cool!” They laughed, a bit too loud before catching themself, playing it cool. “I mean uh… That sounds good. Let me know.”

They quickly left, muttering to themself to “keep it together”, probably thinking you couldn’t hear. It was kind of cute, in a weird way. Maybe they were shyer than you’d originally thought.

But now came the hard part. Getting a night off.

----------------------------------

“No, that won't do.” She didn’t even look up from her computer.

That’s all she had to say to your request. At first, you felt disappointed but you were ready to just turn around and leave, accepting it. But this was just... bothering you. You piped up, trying to reason with her. Her schedule was free tomorrow night and you were a week ahead on all the reports she’d put you in charge of. You hadn’t had a night off in a few weeks.

And you’d never complained. You’d even kind of liked the challenge, the effort you put into your work gave you purpose. Working as her personal assistant was the most rewarding job you’d ever had. And you even told her so.

So why?

She sighed, she seemed almost… annoyed?

“I heard some chatter in the hall this afternoon.” She just kept typing away. “Someone was asking about restaurant recommendations for a big date. They seemed excited about having finally asked out the CEO’s assistant. And that they were so surprised she’d said yes.”

So she knew? She knew you were asking for a night off for a date? What did that have to do with anything? But you kept quiet for the moment, wondering where she was going with this.

“Maybe it’s my fault.” she sighed, sitting back in her plush office chair. “I was too…generous. I wanted to make you feel comfortable working for me so I let you do what you wanted. I can admit to my mistakes.”

Generous? By working you like a dog day in and day out? By keeping you from doing something as simple as going on a date with someone who was interested in you?

You asked her why. Why was she so against you having a life? Why was she doing this?

You knew it was a bad-no, a super bad idea to be mouthing off to your boss. Possibly career-ending. But you’d done so much for her, every day for months on end and never letting her down no matter how difficult or grueling the task. And she couldn’t even give you this one night off?

You needed a reason.

“Oh, it’s quite simple.” She smiled her usual stunning smile. But you weren’t going to let it get to you this time. No ma’am. But as she got up from her desk, coming around to stand too damn close, you felt your resolve slipping.

“From the day you started working here, I knew I wanted to keep you by my side.”

As an employee, right?

. . .

Right??

“You were… quite the sight.” she sighed, a dreamy smile as she looked at you from beneath her long, dark lashes. “So put off by everyone. Always on your own. Uninterested. Unengaged. Unmotivated. At first I just wanted to frazzle you, make you lighten up a bit. You seemed so isolated, I figured a strong personality like mine would rub you the wrong way. But you had such an… interesting reaction.”

The both of you knew what she meant. The blushing, the nervous energy, all the times you tried so hard to act like you weren’t bothered by her attention. And most likely failed miserably.

“I saw how hard you worked. I could see your untapped potential. You were exactly what I needed. I knew I had to make you mine.”

You told her you didn’t understand. And maybe that was a lie. You couldn’t stop your thoughts from racing. She… wasn’t talking about work anymore, was she?

“I made you my assistant. You’re by my side, day in and day out. And… I thought that would be enough to satisfy this feeling. This... need. But it just wasn’t. And when I heard someone had taken an interest in you, I found myself quite…”

The intensity in her eyes felt so suffocating.

”Infuriated.”

You couldn't help but flinch when she laid her hands flat on your chest, just below your collar bone. Her touch burned itself into you, but you couldn’t take your eyes off hers. It felt like she’d devour you if you did.

“No one…” She grabbed you by your collar and yanked you closer, whispering in your ear. You hated the shiver it sent up your spine. “No one will ever take you away from me. Not another company. Not another department. And certainly not some little upstart from Sales.”

… She wasn’t talking about work anymore.

“If someone else took you from me... there would be no point in any of this. This job. It was so… stuffy and boring before you came along. Every day was just office politics and saying the right things to the right people.” She loosened her grip, straightening the collar on your suit jacket with an airy, light touch. “But you… You changed something. So I brought you to my side. And I’ve been watching, getting to know all about you. You play down your talents so you don’t draw any attention. But you can’t help yourself. What you want more than anything is for someone to say they appreciate you, that they need you.”

She had to know how this sounded, right? She almost sounded like…

“And I do.” She held your face in her hand, her thumb grazing your cheek so gently you could’ve convinced yourself her touch wasn’t real. “I need you, love. Without you, none of this means anything.”

Your breathing was shaky, you never imagined that this would- could ever happen in a million years.

She drew you closer, a soft gasp slipping out when you realized just how close. If anyone else popped in, it would be completely obvious what was going on. But you didn’t push her away. If anything, you wished she would just close the gap and take it out of your hands.

“So what do you say?” She whispered in your ear, the warmth of her breath making you feel weak. “Are you mine?”

As if you could say anything else.

Yes, Miss.

It was so soft a response that you weren’t sure you’d said it out loud until you saw her smile. A finger to your lips, she laughed. Not her usual teasing, mischievous laugh when she was trying to get a reaction out of you. It was sweet, delighted and charming.

She was so close, her breath on your lips, her lashes just barely brushed your cheek.

“And I'm yours, love.”

--------------------------------------

this one has been a long time coming, writing femme yanderes is difficult lol

this y/n ended up being a lady, and it didn't come into play much. but the hypercompetent assistant girl in love with her powerful boss lady is a wlw pairing near and dear to my heart.

Boss Lady's tentative full name is Lenora. she doesn't care for it, she goes by Nora. i originally gave her a last name to be called by in the story to make her seem more imposing, but it came off as awkward, like she has a name, but i didn't want her to be known by an unimportant surname

Jay started off as a lady, but i wrote her as more androgynous and it felt right to make them nb instead. it helped keep the reader's sexuality more ambiguous. i wanted to write them as wlw, but not strictly a lesbian. but she reads very much as a "useless lesbian" trope lol. Boss lady had to flirt with her for literal months on end before y/n caught on

i don't quite know how old Boss Lady is, i imagine her as late 30s, very early 40s, and there could be an age difference here, but it's not a necessary part of the story.

this Boss Lady COULD be the same Boss Lady as the one in Boss Lady has a House Spouse, sometime in the future of their relationship. maybe y/n gets burned out or quits for some reason and then becomes a domestic partner. But Boss Lady who obsesses over her employee was imagined as a separate Boss Lady originally. you can never have too many boss ladies.

and that header. i've said it before that editing the femme yandere headers is so awkward because the office lady ones just turn into their chests in tight button-downs lol

*whispers* would you guys find it weird if she called the reader "good girl"? 'cause i almost included it at the end there but thought it might be a bit much. i have a problem✌️

[poppadom0912]

Unexpected

Warnings: Mentions of pregnancy and childbirth

Summary: For nine months, you'd prepared and expected a baby but something unexpected happens.

A/N: Hello! I was back at school this week and have been so drained from the work load so I'm here relaxing and writing away. I only know surface level stuff so I'm sorry for any medical inaccuracies. Exams are next week so I won't be writing anything then. This is unedited and I apologise but please do enjoy!!!!

Four years into your marriage with Kelly, two years with infertility issues, you had come to the point of acceptance and making the possible choice of fostering or adoption.

But then one day you got shot at work and when treating you, the doctor gave you the unexpected news.

You couldn't believe it. You were finally pregnant. After so much struggle, IVF and the unsuccessful tests, you were finally pregnant. You could finally have the family you dreamed of having as a little girl.

You weren't allowed back onto the field. Hank benching you to desk work till your baby welcomed itself. A choice that made you very angsty to get up and be on the move.

You didn't feel like much of a detective being sat at a desk all day while the rest of Intelligence went running around ragged looking and catching bad guys.

So during the moments of peace, you found yourself driving to the firehouse to bother your husband and the people he considered family.

The men and women of 51 loved you as much as they did Kelly, you were one of their own and you were doing the impossible by growing and delivering a mini Kelly Severide into the world.

Kelly rolled his eyes every time you brought up the gender. Call it mothers intuition but you had a gut feeling that you were having a boy, a concept which Kelly didn't mind but thought otherwise.

Refusing to find out the gender, you preferred to watch everyone wait impatiently, their bets pilling up as they put money on your baby's gender.

You scoffed seeing Kim and Hailey 'sneakily' pass money over to Cruz one night at Molly's.

The pregnancy flew by. Small milestones of your belly popping, the first kicks, the weird cravings and watching the growing blob develop on an ultrasound was so surreal but before anyone knew it, you were already hitting the nine month mark.

You left early. Today's case was running late and another murder got called it close to midnight, you were no longer needed and your husband sat at home. The thought of foot massage was ever so enticing.

Said man welcomed you home with the tea that soothed your nausea, your nightly snack at the go and he looked just delicious sitting in his pyjamas.

Pregnancy hormones man. Who would've thought.

And just like every night, the day ended with both of you in bed, his hands gently caressing your ballooning stomach, talking and debriefing with your unborn baby, smiling when a particular comment elicited a kick, showing the imprint on a foot against your skin.

Falling asleep wasn't easy though, especially with the new addition of Braxton hicks. You always found yourself tossing and turning, pushing Kelly to the other side of the bed so you could be left alone with the other love of your life: your pregnancy pillow. The triangular pillow a dream come true.

Eventually, you got up to refill your bottle and water, taking a quick pee because the pressure on your bladder was stupid.

Taking out some ice cubes from the ice tray, you slowly plonked them into your bottle, your eyes heavy with the sleep that refused to come from such a long day at work.

"Baby? Why are you awake?" Kelly's voice was hoarse as he appeared in the kitchen, his hair a mess as he rubbed the sleep away from his eyes.

"Your son is playing football in here. He's already obsessed." You whispered back, letting him recollect himself as he made his way towards you, watching through bleary eyes as you closed the freezer door.

"My son huh? Well I think our daughter is just really excited to meet her very impatient parents." Kelly smirked, his arms circling around your waist before he crouched down to be face level with your protruding stomach.

"Hey baby girl." He whispered, his eyes focused on your stomach and nowhere else. "Your mummy is very tired after working all day. She needs all the sleep before you come home. Do you think you could do me a favour?"

You smiled softly at the sight. Your husband was already smitten and the baby wasn't even here yet.

A few seconds passed and all of a sudden, the little football match came to an end.

You scoffed, looking down at your husband incredulously. "Wow."

Standing back up, Kelly now smiled down at you. "Obviously, I'm the favourite parent."

"Watch it lieutenant." You pouted, poking his chest. "I've got some detectives in my back pocket."

Smiling at each other, basking in the silence and warm lighting, you almost forgot about your sleep deprivation.

Breaking you out of your thoughts was the sound of water dripping, Kelly's face mirroring your thoughts.

"Did you leave the tap on?"

You frowned, you were sure you-

Your mind went blank the millisecond you registered your wet trousers.

Looking down at where your feet would've been had it not been for your stomach being in the way, you swore lightly under your breath.

"I think he interpreted your words differently." You said, looking back up at Kelly who stood astonished.

"Baby's coming today."

*****

You didn't go to the hospital straight away.

Instead, you wiped yourself down and changed clothes while Kelly cleaned up and brought out your already packed hospital bag all while timing the length and time between your contractions.

The sun was rising when you made your way to the hospital, your midwife already in the loop the moment your water broke.

Settling into your room, dressed in your gown, you sighed.

You were bored. What were you supposed to do while you waited for the birth to get into motion.

Your epidural had been confirmed and scheduled for later on when your contractions progressed further. The nurse had just come to measure you before leaving.

You sent a quick text to Hank, apologising for such short notice, saying your maternity leave would start earlier than planned. Kelly had just called Boden, his shift starting not too long ago.

"Boden's got Cruz covering for me." Kelly said, putting his phone in his pocket as he stood by your bedside.

"I'm all yours for the next few weeks."

"I would love you so much if you could just-" You sharply inhaled at the painful contraction, doing the breathing exercises you practised with your midwife. "Just get this baby out."

"How about we go on a walk? Might help speed things up."

All Kelly was met with were your grabby hands.

*****

Several hours later and you were in active labour.

You were surrounded by nurses and the doctor, Kelly glued to your side but at some point when you were pushing, he was ushered away by a nurse who you briefly heard mention the words 'umbilical cord'.

"It's a girl!"

You choked back a sob, your eyes watery as they placed your daughter on your chest for skin-to-skin. Your hands immediately flew to hold her. Your emotions so haywire that you couldn't care less about the cleanliness of her little body.

Inhaling shakily, you looked up through tears at Kelly who was back at your side. He kissed your forehead multiple times, his hand on top of yours so you could both hold your baby.

After a few minutes, she was carefully taken away to be weighed and clean, leaving you and Kelly to revel alone. Reality came crashing down: you had a daughter, your had a-

"Mrs Severide, what's wrong?"

Hearing the doctors question, Kelly looked away from your daughter and back down at you in alarm, his eyes wide in confusion at your own confused face.

"I- I feel..."

You weren't able to finish as you were overcome with the sudden need to push.

It seemed that even without you voicing your thoughts, they knew exactly what was happening.

"Okay Y/N, we go again." The OB said as you squeezed the blood out of Kelly's hand. "Push just like you did."

The next few moments felt like a blur. You weren't too sure what was reality and what was an illusion - everything was happening too fast for you to comprehend what was actually happening.

All of a sudden, a second cry broke out, as loud and high-pitched as the first.

"It's a girl!"

You blinked, your head clearing up.

"Congratulations! Two beautiful girls!"

Then the apparent second baby was placed on your chest, a routine that was just performed not even ten minutes ago.

The tears were flowing now with nothing to stop them. Your shaky hands went to hold her small body as the clouds dissipated and the sky finally cleared.

*****

The two baby beds were rolled towards your bed, Kelly standing up when the nurses entered the recovery room.

"Congratulations mum and dad!" One of the nurses started.

"You have two healthy identical twin girls."

You couldn't believe it, no one could.

There was never a point during the nine months of pregnancy that would even suggest you having twins and now all of a sudden, your leaving the hospital with two twin girls.

You were so lost in your thoughts that you didn't hear Kelly's conversation with the nurses.

"Kelly..." You looked at your husband who was just as shocked as you. "Kelly we have two babies."

"We have twin girls babe." Kelly emphasised, his stupid smile covering his entire face.

"We're not even prepared for one let alone two." You said, sitting up to pick one of them up. "Baby- oh my gosh, we have twins."

Before Kelly could reply, the room door opened and Matt poked his head in. "Knock Knock, can we-"

Matt stopped himself as he laid eyes on the baby on your chest and then the baby that was being picked up by Kelly.

"Matt, move out the way, let me see-" Sylvie barely stopped herself from squealing as she saw the two babies.

"Holy shit, twins?!" Matt half frowned, following Sylvie to your side. "When did this even happen?"

"Literally an hour ago man." Kelly said in greeting to his best friend. "No one had any idea."

"AH- two girls! Congratulations, oh my gosh I'm so happy for you guys." Sylvie gushed, cooing at the little bundles in your arms.

"Oh yeah, Jay and Hailey were somewhere behind us."

Another knock sounded just as the words came from Matt, the door creaking open for the blonde detective to make herself known.

"Y/N, hey-" Hailey gasped so loudly that Jay's swearing could be heard from inside the room.

"Woah." Jay's lack of words proved his surprise.

You and Kelly laughed.

"Well Kelly was right, they're girls."

Jay and Sylvie high-fived, their smirks making it evident they were on the winning side of the bet.

"This is definitely unexpected. I have no idea how we're going to manage." You said, handing one baby off to Hailey while Kelly lay the other into Matt's outstretched arms.

"That's what we're here for, along with the rest of 51 and Intelligence." Sylvie said, looking fondly at the baby in Matt's arms as she held your hand in both of hers comfortingly.

"You've got a very big family ready to help. We're first responders, it's our job."

You hugged the blonde, overcome with sudden emotion.

"Besides," Jay spoke up, gently taking the baby from Hailey's arms into his. "What godparents would we be?"

The room dissolved into laughter.

You had two adorable girls and an entire village at your beck and call. While unexpected, they were more than welcome with open arms and open hearts.

[novascharms]

teach please me — tutor!reader x soccer player!rafe

reader's life is meticulously planned, from high school to becoming president of the country—she knows exactly where she's headed and every step to get there. but her airtight plan hits a snag when the principal ropes her into tutoring rafe cameron, the school’s star soccer player, who’s failing algebra and at risk of being benched next season. the team needs him on the field, and reader needs the principal’s glowing recommendation to secure her spot at her dream school. balancing her ambitious goals with rafe’s chaotic charm might just throw her perfectly crafted plan off track.

word count — 6.1  chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.  masterlist

nineteen

saturday, march 1st

"okay, ready?" ivy’s voice broke the quiet of the library, her sharp gaze narrowing as she held up the next flashcard. you nodded, settling your hands neatly in your lap, trying to shake off the tension in your shoulders.

"main causes of the american revolution?" she asked, her tone brisk but encouraging.

"taxation without representation, british military presence, proclamation of 1763, and acts like the stamp act and tea act," you rattled off, your voice low but steady. she gave a quick nod, flipping to the next card with a satisfied mutter.

"what was the significance of the monroe doctrine?"

"it stated that european powers should not interfere in the western hemisphere and established u.s. influence in the americas," you answered, nodding slightly as if to confirm your own words. ivy hummed in approval, her eyes scanning the card before moving on.

"what triggered the united states’ entry into world war one?" she asked, her voice laced with expectation.

you opened your mouth, ready to reply, but the answer danced just out of reach. blinking, you sifted through your mental notes, coming up blank. "the…" you hesitated, brows furrowing as you scrambled to connect the dots. "the sinking of the lusitania?" you ventured, your voice tinged with uncertainty.

ivy nodded, her expression urging you on.

"oh!" the memory clicked into place. "the unrestricted submarine warfare by germany and the zimmerman telegram!" you finished with a triumphant grin.

"ten out of ten," ivy whispered, punching the air subtly in celebration.

"moreee! i need to get this information printed into my brain," you pleaded, leaning forward with an exaggerated look.

ivy gave you a pointed look, crossing her arms. "we’ve been at this since one, and it’s almost six," she said, the corners of her mouth twitching upward in a laugh. "i think we could both use a break."

“fine,” you reluctantly agree.

she stood, grabbing her bottle off the table. "i’m gonna refill this. we’ll pick it back up in five, okay?"

you sighed but nodded, watching as she walked toward the water fountain. the moment she was out of sight, you slid your notebook aside and switched over to your imessage conversation with rafe, your lips curving into a soft smile as you read over his last message.

a couple of seconds after you send your last text, your phone lights up with a facetime call from rafe. the ringing feels louder in the quiet library, and you scramble to answer before ivy—or worse, the librarian—shoots you a glare. the call connects, and the screen fills with rafe sitting in his car, the faint golden light of the setting sun casting a warm glow over his sharp features. he’s fiddling with his phone, adjusting it against the dashboard, the camera wobbling slightly before he settles it.

“—coming back?” a voice crackles faintly in the background, pulling rafe’s attention toward his window. his brow furrows, lips twitching in a mix of amusement and confusion.

“dude, you sound drunk,” rafe says with a laugh, shaking his head as he adjusts his seatbelt. his smile tugs at the corner of his lips, easy and familiar.

“i didn’t drink!” the voice protests indignantly, and rafe’s face twists with exaggerated disbelief as he glances toward the source.

“kelce,” he drawls, his tone dripping with mockery, “you had four corona lights.”

“there’s alcohol in corona lights?” kelce’s voice is so genuinely confused that you can’t help but snort quietly, covering your mouth to stifle the sound.

rafe hears it and turns to the camera, his grin widening at the sight of you laughing. his gaze lingers for a beat longer before he shakes his head and looks back at kelce. “kelce, back up. i’m about to drive off, and i actually can’t deal with you right now.”

“i thought they called it ‘light’ because there’s no alcohol in it!” kelce yells, his tone insistent, and rafe groans, dragging a hand down his face.

“you’re an idiot,” rafe mutters, throwing the car into reverse as kelce finally stumbles out of the way.

“are you sure he should be in our grade?” you tease, watching as rafe navigates out of the parking lot, the golden hour light catching in his hair and softening the edges of his jawline.

“no,” rafe deadpans, his eyes flicking toward the camera briefly. “i’m really not.”

your grin widens as you reach up to undo your claw clip, letting your hair fall loose around your shoulders. you shake it out slightly, the strands catching the soft light spilling through the windows. rafe’s gaze flickers back to the screen for a split second, his expression softening as his eyes follow the motion, but he quickly refocuses on the road ahead.

“what are you craving?” he asks casually, one hand resting on the steering wheel, the other draped over the gear shift.

“what’s around?” you counter, leaning back in your chair, your voice playful as you tuck a strand of hair behind your ear.

his eyes narrow slightly, his lips pressing into a stubborn line. “what are you craving?” he repeats, his tone insistent, though there’s a hint of amusement dancing in his expression.

“fine,” you relent with an exaggerated sigh, though a smile creeps onto your face. “chipotle? like, a bowl with rice, guac, chicken...” you lean your chin on your hand, practically drooling at the thought.

rafe hums, glancing at the GPS on his dash. “there’s one close. i could grab it and be at the library in, like, half an hour—assuming they don’t take forever.”

“perfect,” you murmur, already mentally calculating how much more studying you and ivy could squeeze in before the food arrived.

a few quiet moments pass, the hum of the car filling the space before rafe leans back in his seat at a red light. “so,” he starts, his voice casual but with a note of deliberation. “i was just with the boys, and they wanna come by mine later. my dad got this new grill, and they’re all obsessed with trying it out. my parents are gone for the weekend, and the girls are coming, too. you should come.”

the suggestion hangs in the air for a moment, and your chest tightens, a swirl of emotions tumbling through you. you hadn’t talked about the bonfire yet—the memory of him with adriana still lingered, raw and unresolved, and the image of their lips together was one you couldn’t quite shake, but you stupidly had been pushing it aside. you didn’t want to have this stupid conversation, didn’t want to risk anything breaking this beautiful little bubble you were both in. surely, there was an explanation—there had to be. so, just ask him.

maybe they used to have a thing? you honestly didn't really like to think about it all because the image alone upset you but if they did have a thing, it was probably over. right?

and the new girl every day thing had to be made up though the valentine's day letters did stir something up in you.

rafe was so gentle, so soft, so loving and caring. he could never treat girls as disposable as cora made it out to be.

“you could bring ivy,” he adds, his voice softening, his gaze hopeful. “i’ll drive her home after, and maybe you could sleep over?”

his words are casual, but the implication lingers in the space between you. you’d been waiting for the right occasion to finally have sex and his parents not being home? that seemed like the perfect time and place. your heart races. the idea of staying over—of finally taking that step—sends a rush of heat to your cheeks, but at the same time, you can’t ignore the nagging voice in the back of your head urging you to bring up the bonfire first.

you nod slowly, “can we—“

“bring me where?” ivy’s voice cuts through your words. you glance up to see her standing behind you, her curious gaze flicking between you and the phone.

“oh,” you say quickly, trying to gather your thoughts. “rafe’s hosting this small thing at his house, and he asked if you’d want to come.”

ivy slides into the seat beside you, resting her head on your shoulder so her face pops into the frame. “what kind of thing?” she asks, her question clearly directed at rafe.

"a..barbecue but it's not outside—alcohol, but you don't have to drink—ultra casual friends thing. i can drop you off at home too." rafe explains, his voice steady but warm.

ivy hesitates for a moment, her brow furrowing slightly before she relaxes with a shrug. “why not? i’ve never been to that kind of thing,” she says lightly, her tone curious.

she turns to you, raising an eyebrow. “we can go, right?”

you glance between her and rafe, feeling the weight of their gazes. finally, you nod, a small smile playing on your lips. “yeah, we can go. rafe’s bringing us chipotle first,” you add, your tone brightening.

ivy’s eyes light up as she leans toward the phone. “wait, don’t joke with me. are you really getting us food?”

rafe chuckles, his voice warm and teasing. “yeah. what do you want?”

“hold on, i need my phone!” ivy scrambles, rummaging through her bag, and you laugh, shaking your head. “she has a very specific chipotle order,” you explain, already typing it out. “it’s easier if i just text it to you.”

rafe smirks, clearly entertained, but he doesn’t argue. a few minutes later, after you send the details, you’re subjected to twenty-eight excruciating minutes of ivy glancing toward the hallway every few seconds, her anticipation palpable. yes, you counted.

when rafe finally walks in, bags in hand, ivy practically leaps out of her seat. “you’re god-sent,” she declares dramatically, clutching the food like it’s a lifeline before digging in with record speed. you can’t help but laugh, your chest warming at the sight of her excitement and rafe’s quiet amusement.

rafe strolled over to you, his hands extended, palms up. you tilted your head, curious, before slipping your hands into his. his grip was warm and steady as he pulled you to your feet, and before you could say anything, he looped your arms around his neck. his hands settled lightly on your waist, and then he dipped his head to kiss you. it was slow and gentle, the kind of kiss that left you dizzy, though you fought to keep yourself grounded, sighing softly against his lips as he pulled you deeper into the moment.

“missed you, baby.” he murmured, his voice low and warm as he pulled back just enough that your breaths mingled between you.

“i missed you,” you echoed, your voice barely above a whisper before you pressed a quick kiss to the tip of his nose. his grin was soft but immediate, the corners of his mouth twitching upward as his hands slid lower to steady you.

“thanks for the food,” you said, glancing briefly toward ivy, who was blissfully absorbed in her chipotle bowl, completely oblivious to the exchange.

rafe followed your gaze, chuckling under his breath. “no need to thank me.” he stepped back and dropped into the chair you’d been sitting in, only to tug you down onto his knee.

you settled against him, adjusting slightly to get comfortable. “you always tell me not to thank you,” you said with mock exasperation, tilting your head to look at him. “that’s really rude, you know? who doesn’t say thank you?”

he pulled a bag from beside his chair and started unpacking it, his movements casual. “you don’t need to thank me for things that go without saying,” he replied simply, not looking up.

you hummed thoughtfully, the familiar spark of debate flaring in your chest. “i get what you’re saying, but i think some things do need acknowledgment. like, i agree there are certain actions that people do in relationships—whether romantic, familial, or platonic—that don’t need constant recognition. but still, a little appreciation never hurts. like when my parents put food on the table—it’s their job, sure, but i still say thank you because it shows I value their effort. it’s about gratitude, not obligation.”

rafe placed your bowl in front of you, a fork and napkin neatly folded beside it. “i get that,” he said, leaning back slightly as you dug into your food. “but i think a lot of things are just part of being in someone’s life. like, it’s not a task or a burden for me to do something for you. it’s automatic—like brushing my teeth. you don’t thank someone for brushing their teeth, do you? it’s just… normal.”

you chewed slowly, considering his point, before shifting on his knee to face him better. the bowl rested on your lap as you studied his expression. “that’s an interesting perspective,” you said finally, nodding a little. “but i’m still going to say thank you.”

his lips curved into a soft smirk as he raked his fingers through his hair. “and i’m still going to tell you not to.”

you rolled your eyes playfully but couldn’t fight the smile tugging at your lips. picking up the flashcards from the table, you plopped them into his hands. “fine, if you won’t accept my thanks, you can at least make yourself useful. quiz me.”

rafe huffed dramatically as he fanned through the colorful cards. “wow, i’m really just a tool to you, huh?”

from across the table, ivy piped up between bites of her food, her voice dripping with dry humor. “not just a tool, also a bank card.”

rafe’s laughter was immediate, shaking his head as he glanced at you.

“okay,” he said, flipping to the first card with a grin. “what was the purpose of the patriot act?”

you don’t linger too long at the library—just long enough for you and ivy to finish your food. once the bowls are empty and the conversation fades, rafe gathers you both and drives you home so you can drop off your bags and check in with your parents. the plan is simple: tell them you’re sleeping over at ivy’s, grab a few essentials, and head out again.

once inside, you catch a whiff of the lingering chipotle smell on your clothes, and it’s enough to make you grimace. after a quick change into fresh, comfortable clothes, and brushing your teeth to erase the last traces of cilantro-lime rice, you’re back in rafe’s car.

he’s quiet when you slide into the passenger seat, his head down as he types something on his phone. the faint glow illuminates a frown etched into his features. you buckle your seatbelt and glance at him, concern stirring. “you okay?” you ask softly.

he doesn’t look up or respond, his focus still glued to his screen.

“rafe?” you try again, your voice a little firmer this time. his head snaps up, eyes meeting yours as if pulled from deep thought.

“hmm?” he hums, blinking.

“are you okay?” you repeat, studying him closely.

he exhales, the frown softening but not entirely disappearing. “yeah,” he says quietly, slipping his phone onto the console. “just… haven’t heard much from sarah lately. i’ve been trying to get ahold of her.”

you nod, your hand brushing against his arm in a small, reassuring gesture. “i’m sure she’s fine. maybe reach out to your aunt in the morning, just to check in? but it’s probably nothing to worry about.”

his lips quirk into a faint smile as he nods. “yeah, you’re probably right. i’ll text her tomorrow.”

ivy clambers into the back seat, breaking the moment, and soon rafe is pulling out of your driveway. the car hums softly, the headlights cutting through the dark as ivy peppers rafe with questions about anything and everything that pops into her head. her curiosity is endless.

you smile faintly at their banter, but your mind drifts, your fingers fidgeting with the edge of your sleeve. it wasn’t fear—not exactly—but the thought of being around rafe’s friends again brought a weight to your chest. the last time had ended badly, leaving you walking home alone in the dark, tears blurring your vision.

time had passed since that night, though, and things were different now. rafe had been nothing but perfect—kind, attentive, funny, the kind of person who made your heart skip and your stomach flutter. your parents adored him, your friends approved, and he had done nothing to make you doubt his feelings. it should be fine. everything should be fine. but still, a flicker of unease clung to you.

you’d talk to him tonight, when everyone left. that was the only quiet moment you’d get.

“you okay?” ivy’s voice broke through your thoughts as you approached rafe’s front door.

you glanced at her, startled, and nodded quickly. “yeah, of course. why?”

she studied you for a moment, her brow furrowed. “you just seem a little… nervous.”

“nope, not nervous,” you said with a forced smile, shaking your head as if to convince yourself as much as her.

she didn’t press further, but the shadow of doubt lingered in her eyes as you both stepped inside behind rafe.

the faint murmur of voices floated from the living room, punctuated by occasional laughter, as you crossed the foyer. the sound made your stomach tighten, but you squared your shoulders and followed rafe’s lead, determined to make it through the evening.

"rafe! there you are, i seriously need—" kiara's voice echoed down the stairs but stopped abruptly when her eyes landed on you and ivy. her surprised expression melted into a wide, welcoming smile. "hey! you came!" she exclaimed, practically skipping down the last few steps.

jj was close behind her, bounding down the stairs like a golden retriever before leaping onto rafe’s back in a chaotic greeting. rafe stumbled forward slightly, muttering something about jj needing a leash, but you were too focused on kiara approaching you and ivy.

"hey, kiara," you said warmly, gesturing toward your friend. "this is ivy."

ivy offered a polite smile and a small wave. "hi, nice to meet you."

"i’m kiara," she said, grinning at the both of you. "so glad you came." without missing a beat, she looped an arm through yours and started tugging you forward. jj threw a quick, cheerful “hi” your way before he and rafe disappeared behind the corner.

"since you don’t drink, i got you something special!" kiara announced with an excited sparkle in her eyes. she practically beamed as she gestured toward the kitchen island, where cleo and pope were deep in the throes of concocting something that resembled a science experiment more than a drink.

pope held up a glass, swirling it like a sommelier, while cleo smirked beside him, her fingers busy mixing something else.

"look!" kiara reached for a six-pack of sleek, colorful cans and held them up like a prized trophy. you stared at them, blinking in confusion.

"they’re virgin mojitos!" she said proudly, her voice practically dripping with enthusiasm.

it clicked a moment later, and you couldn’t help but smile. "so, i can kind of pretend i’m drinking the same as you guys? how thoughtful!" you laugh and kiara nods.

"of course! no one gets left out here," she said with a grin.

pope had already grabbed one of the cans, cracking it open with a flourish and pouring its contents into a glass. he added some questionable-looking ingredients from the assortment on the counter, finishing it off with a dramatic sprinkle of sugar.

"boom!" pope declared, sliding the drink toward you. "virgin cocktails à la cleo and pope. tell me that’s not perfection."

with cautious determination, you took a small sip. immediately, your face scrunched up as the overpowering sweetness hit you. you squeezed your eyes shut, trying to swallow without gagging.

"oh my god," you croaked, handing the glass to ivy, who was already laughing at your reaction.

ivy hesitated, then took a brave sip herself. the second the liquid touched her tongue, her eyes went wide, and she practically spat it back into the glass. "oh, god! what is that? did you dump an entire bag of sugar in here?"

pope and cleo were doubled over with laughter, clearly amused by your suffering.

as ivy hunted for water, muttering something about "instant diabetes," john b strolled into the kitchen, eyebrow raised. "guys, seriously? already throwing up?"

ivy, still laughing through her sputtering, waved him off as she grabbed a glass of water. "i think i just shaved ten years off my life," she mumbled dramatically, taking long gulps.

cleo crossed her arms, looking offended. "you two clearly don’t appreciate our craftsmanship."

"yeah," pope added, nodding in agreement. "this is an art form."

you glanced at kiara, who was biting her lip to hold back laughter. your shared look was enough to set both of you off.

you weave through the place, scanning for rafe in the sea of familiar faces, but he’s nowhere in sight. a few steps in, you collide with jj, his lazy grin revealing he's had more than just a few drinks. "hello," he greets, his voice light and teasing.

"hi," you reply, smiling politely, though his glassy eyes and slight sway make you wonder if he’s entirely steady on his feet.

you glance back to see him watching pope and cleo, who are hunched over the kitchen counter, laughing as they concoct a drink that looks less like a cocktail and more like a dare. jj turns back to you, ignoring your question entirely. "looking for rafe?" he asks, his tone casual.

"yeah," you nod, and his grin widens.

"i’ll take you to him." before you can protest, he drapes an arm over your shoulder, steering you toward the garden.

outside, the air is cooler, and the faint glow of string lights illuminates the yard. rafe stands by the grill with topper and cora. topper is manning the grill, flipping meat with practiced ease, while cora plates the freshly cooked food. rafe, on the other hand, leans casually against the table, contributing absolutely nothing.

"rafe! i brought you a peace offering," jj announces with exaggerated theatrics, gripping your shoulders and nudging you forward.

"peace offering?" you echo, a soft laugh escaping your lips as you glance between jj and rafe.

rafe’s brows lift as he looks at you, his lips twitching into a smirk. "oh, yes. a peace offering because jackson here threw up on my carpet yesterday," he says dryly.

jj lets out an indignant noise, ducking as rafe chucks a nearby towel at his head. "dude! i cleaned it up, and you love me, so stop holding grudges and just forgive me already."

jj moves toward the table, hand reaching for a freshly grilled sausage, but cora smacks his fingers without missing a beat. "it just came off the grill, idiot. you’ll burn yourself."

"you didn’t clean it up," topper chimes in, laughing. "you wiped it. there’s a difference. he’s gonna have to get the carpet professionally cleaned."

"and who’s paying for that?" rafe asks, his tone pointed as he slides an arm around your waist.

jj shrugs, lips pressing together in mock thought. "your rich-ass parents," he answers shamelessly.

"or yours," rafe counters, raising a brow.

jj grimaces, shoving a piece of sausage into his mouth before mumbling, "my dad hasn’t given me a dime since i took his lambo for that little joyride."

"you didn’t even crash it. what’s the issue?" kelce’s voice cuts in as he steps out from the house, joining the growing group.

their conversation continues, laughter and banter spilling into the cool night air. but your focus shifts, the voices fading into the background. you can feel cora’s eyes on you, her gaze heavy and assessing. instead of meeting her stare, you focus on the comforting warmth of rafe beside you, the way his chest rumbles when he laughs, the scent of his cologne grounding you. you twist one of his fingers absently, letting the small act ease your nerves.

after a few moments, you lean closer to rafe. "i’m gonna go get a drink," you murmur softly.

his attention snaps to you, his blue eyes searching yours. "you good?" he asks, concern flickering across his face.

you nod quickly, offering him a reassuring smile. "uh-huh. you want anything?"

"whatever beer’s in the fridge," he replies, and you nod, brushing a kiss against his cheek before heading back toward the house.

as you step inside, the warmth and noise envelop you again, and your gaze lands on adriana making her entrance. she glides through with a confidence that borders on arrogance, her knowing smile is a little unsettling and when she catches your eye, her expression twists into something mocking, though she doesn’t say a word. instead, she brushes past you, heading straight for the garden—and for rafe.

you bite the inside of your cheek, willing yourself to shake off the unease bubbling in your chest. moving toward the kitchen, you find ivy perched at the island, her laughter mingling with the chatter of kiara, cleo, pope, and john b.

you rest your chin on ivy’s shoulder, your voice soft as you ask, "you good?"

she turns to you, her smile bright and reassuring. "very good. you?"

the question is simple, but the answer feels anything but. you hesitate, searching for the right words, though none seem to fit. "yeah," you say finally, forcing a smile. it’s what you should say because nothing is wrong. but deep down, something feels off. something you can’t quite place.

the whole evening, you kept waiting for something to go wrong. you could feel it hovering like a storm cloud, an almost tangible weight pressing on your chest. but nothing happened. cora and adriana barely acknowledged you, and rafe’s friends were as welcoming and warm as the first time you’d met them. you ate, you laughed, and for a moment, you almost believed the night could stay perfect.

but then you glanced at the clock—nine p.m.—and instinctively reached for your phone, only to realize it wasn’t in your pocket. you patted the other one, frowning as the absence unsettled you. rafe, ever attentive, noticed immediately.

“do you know where my phone is?” you asked him, voice light despite the knot forming in your stomach.

he paused, thoughtful. “in your jacket? jackets are on my bed upstairs. want me to grab it?”

you shook your head quickly, forcing a smile. “no, that’s okay.” before he could respond, you were already moving, eager to retrieve it yourself.

the familiar grey door to his room was ajar, and inside, a mountain of jackets sprawled across his bed. you rifled through them, finally locating yours. slipping your phone from the pocket, you glanced at the screen. just a couple of messages—school group chats and your mom wishing you a good night.

you were still typing a reply to your mom when you turned and gasped, startled to find yourself face-to-face with adriana.

“adriana, hi.” your voice wavered as you took a step back, your heart hammering in your chest.”

“hey, teach.” she smiled and took a strand of your hair, flicking it between her fingers. “isn’t he great with his fingers?”

you frowned. “what?” the word barely escaped your lips before they continued.

“didn’t i tell you next time, it’d be you?” cora mused, from behind her, her usual saccharine smile firmly in place. "right as always."

“listen,” you started, trying to keep your voice steady as you shifted to step past them, “i don’t want any problems with either of you. if there’s a problem with rafe, you should really just talk to him.” the words felt forced, but you hoped they’d end this confrontation.

cora chuckled, the sound low and condescending. “there is no problem with rafe,” she said breezily. “that’s what we’re trying to tell you. no girl has ever had any complaints.”

“this says as much,” adriana chimed in, and your stomach dropped as you turned to see her holding a stack of letters. valentine’s day letters. rafe’s valentine’s day letters.

your chest tightened painfully. “those are just crushes,” you said quickly, your voice firmer now. “they don’t mean anything.”

“really?” cora tilted her head, her brows arching in mock curiosity. “well, i’m curious.”

you had no interest in entertaining their games, so you moved to leave, muttering, “okay, you two have fun. i’m gonna go.”

but adriana grabbed your arm, pulling you back with a laugh that grated against your nerves. “no, no, hold on, teach!” she sang, flipping open one of the letters with deliberate glee.

“this one’s good,” she began, her voice dripping with amusement. she cleared her throat. “‘rafey, the other night was so fun. i left you a little gift in your sock drawer. same time, next friday? love, lexi.’”

next friday? had he really been seeing girls while he was seeing you?

your breath caught as cora, with a sickening familiarity, moved to the dresser. she opened the drawer without hesitation, rummaging through the neatly folded socks until she produced something bright red.

“and would you look at that?” cora said, holding up a pair of red lace panties. “pretty sexy.”

“wait, those are actually cute,” adriana giggled, inspecting them like they were a trophy. “wonder where she got them.”

you stared at the fabric dangling from her fingers, the blood draining from your face. this had to be manipulation. some twisted attempt to mess with you. but then, why did he have those panties?

cora snatched another letter, her grin widening. “okay, another one! ‘remember our beach day? you said you love me. can’t stop thinking about you. happy valentine’s day. s.’”

you felt a sharp sting behind your eyes, and when cora turned to you, her expression almost pitying, the first tear slipped free. you aggressively wiped it away.

“she’s so sweet! isn’t she sweet?” she taunted, and her gaze made something inside you snap.

you clutched your jacket tightly, desperate to leave, but adriana wasn’t finished. “hold on, teach!” she laughed, grabbing yet another letter. “this one’s even better! ‘i still remember when you took my v-card in the back of your car—‘“

no no no.

no.

your heart strings pulled tightly and you stopped listening. you shoved past adriana, the world around you blurring as tears filled your vision.

you felt a hand grip your arm and tug you back. “hey?” cora’s ‘concerned’ face, “we’re just trying to help you. i’m a girl’s girl, y/n. i just don’t want to see you get hurt since clearly you aren’t smart enough to see through him yourself.”

you tugged your arm away and behind you, their laughter echoed like a cruel melody. “how sad,” adriana laughed, her voice chasing you down the hallway as your chest heaved with silent, choked sobs.

you rush down the stairs, the sound of your footsteps muffled by the pounding in your ears. tears blur your vision, and the lump in your throat feels like it’s choking you. you don’t stop, you can’t stop. your heart is in free fall, shattering with every breath. you dart past rafe's friends, kiara's concerned look, topper saying something you don't quite catch, their faces a blur, until you find ivy.

her eyes meet yours instantly, wide with concern, like she can sense the storm inside you. “i’m gonna go,” you manage to choke out, your voice trembling. before you can say another word, she’s at your side, her hand brushing against your arm. “y/n?”

rafe is suddenly there too, his brows furrowed, confusion etched into his face. “y/n, baby?” his voice is soft but urgent, and when he reaches for your wrist, you yank it away, shaking your head violently.

“what's wrong, talk to me?” he pleads, moving to block your path. his blue eyes are frantic, clouded with worry, the same eyes you adored only minutes ago. now all you could think about was how you sat in his car, the same car he used to bring you to the retirement home, the one he used to pick you up and take you to school, the one where you'd laughed the most you'd ever laughed and you'd kissed him over and over. the same car you'd given him your first freaking blowjob in was the same car he used to take some girl's virginity and who knows who else's? yours was next. clearly.

“please, just let me g-go.” your voice cracks, trembling with barely-contained sobs as you try to push past him because the thoughts of 'next friday' won't leave you. the picture of him with another girl right after your seeing you or even right before. who knows?

rafe doesn’t let up. his hands find your arms, his grip firm but careful, his touch begging you to stay. “what happened? y/n, please—please talk to me,” he implores, his voice breaking as he tries to steady you, to calm you and it feels like such bullshit, it all feels like a slap in the face and it feels like being deceived and betrayed and you can’t think, don’t care about all the eyes on you, watching you cry—you can’t care because you have this ugly picture playing in your head of him sleeping with girls after touching you and kissing you and him telling a girl he loves her and that girl isn’t you. that girl is not you. it was never you. it all sort of becomes clear. this illusion, dream-like state that you refused to burst out of because of how blissful it felt was really just that, a far-fetched dream.

“don’t touch me! stop!” you cry, your voice rising, panic taking over.

adriana’s voice slices through the tension like a blade, smooth and cruel. “you should leave her alone, rafe. i think she’s had enough.”

his head snaps toward her, his body stiffening. “what? what did you say to her? what the fuck did you two do?” his voice is sharp, his tone teetering on the edge of fury as he glares at adriana and cora.

cora shrugs, her smile dripping with feigned innocence. “we? we didn’t say anything to her. your many, many conquests, though? they were a lot more talkative.”

you watch as the words register, as rafe freezes, his anger shifting to something like dread. his gaze swings back to you, wide and pleading. “you read the letters?” he whispers.

you don’t answer. the tears in your eyes say enough. they won’t stop, pouring down your cheeks as you stare at him, your chest heaving with sobs you can’t control. his momentary hesitation gives you just enough time to slip out of his grasp, to make a desperate break for the door.

“no! no, wait—” his voice is desperate, and his hand finds your wrist again, pulling you into his chest. his grip trembles as much as his voice. “it’s not true—” he stammers, then falters. “well, it’s—i swear, i promise, the moment this became real, the moment i realised you didn't just see me as a friend, i was yours. you know me,” he pleads, his words rushing together, his forehead pressing against yours in a futile attempt to anchor you. “look at me, baby. look at me. you know me.” he begs.

you don’t wipe the tears away. there’s no point. they fall faster than you can stop them, burning hot trails down your cheeks. “is that you? a new girl every couple of days? you—” your voice cracks, broken and raw, “you told a girl you love her?"” the words feel like poison on your tongue, and you pray, beg silently for him to deny it, to give you anything to make this nightmare go away.

“you took another girl’s virginity… in your car?” the words taste bitter on your tongue, your voice breaking on the last syllable. your chest is so tight it hurts to breathe.

you try to pull away from him, to rip yourself from his grasp, but his fingers cling desperately to you. the nausea rises so violently you think you might actually throw up.

rafe’s head shakes frantically, his own eyes filling with tears, the panic setting in. “i don’t—i don’t have the best track record, i know that! but you—you brought out the best in me. i know i fucked up, i know the shit i did wasn’t okay, but i’m sorry,” he pleads, his voice cracking under the weight of his guilt.

you barely hear him. your pulse is roaring in your ears, your vision blurring with tears.

“do you remember her name?” you whisper. your voice is so quiet, so fragile, but it cuts through the air like a blade.

his breath catches. his whole body goes still, like he doesn’t understand the question. his blue eyes dart across your face, searching desperately for something—an out, an answer, a way to fix this.

“what…?” his voice is hoarse.

you swallow back a sob, forcing yourself to meet his gaze. “you were her first,” you repeat, and your voice is deadly soft now. “do you even remember her name?”

the silence that follows is unbearable.

he doesn’t speak. doesn’t even breathe for three whole seconds.

and that’s all it takes.

your stomach lurches. a cold, sickening wave crashes over you, and suddenly his hands on you feel wrong, like they’re scorching your skin, leaving burns behind.

“no, please—please, baby, don’t—” rafe’s voice is raw, wrecked. he reaches for you again, his hands desperate, his entire body pleading, but you stumble back, chest heaving, tears slipping down your face in hot, relentless streams.

he chokes on a breath. his whole face is crumbling, his own tears spilling over now, but you can’t bear to look at him. you can’t breathe around the ache in your chest, around the betrayal weighing down your limbs like lead.

“oh, god..” you shake your head, wrenching yourself out of his arms. “no, please, please.” he tries to pull you close, tries to get you to look at him. “baby—“

“no. no, please, stop. let me go,” you beg him, your voice shaking as you push him away, desperate to escape.

“no, y/n, please—please don’t go,” he begs, his hands reaching for you again, trembling with desperation. “i’m so sorry. i swear, i swear on everything, i’m not that person anymore. i can't lose you. you know me!”

but you can’t listen. you can’t hear another word, not when your heart is breaking like this. the air feels too heavy, the walls too close, and all you know is that you need to get out of this house.

you yank the front door open, but your escape halts when you see her—sarah cameron, standing there with a suitcase in hand. even through the haze of your tears, you recognize her.

“sur…prise,” she says hesitantly, her eyes darting between you, rafe, and the onlookers scattered around the foyer. the scene before her—a girl sobbing uncontrollably, rafe pleading, their friends frozen in stunned silence—leaves her wide-eyed and unsure.

you only look at her for a fleeting moment before stepping past her, out into the cold night. rafe’s voice carries after you, cracking with disbelief. “sarah?”

ivy’s hand slips into yours as she catches up, her grip warm and grounding. you squeeze it tightly, the tears still flowing, unstoppable and endless, as you walk away.

chapter index — prev. chap. — next chap.

a.n — um ya.. what IM surprised abt is that she was gonna let him hit it when he hasnt even made it official..? girl? standardsss??

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