#Drag X Plus Kits

[sswed]

everybody knows im a good girl, officer

alexia putellas x policeofficer!reader

A/N: pure unadulterated smut and a g!p reader, thus minors DNI, thanks

a part two to this work: is it a crime?

wc 3k

Your work is far too important to leave for an extended period of time, be it a week or few days. You never take holidays unless it's important... or required.

Yet, Alexia has convinced you to use your precious time off to visit her during her own week-long break in the meticulous training that she does everyday. So, you fly into Barcelona with a backpack full of only clothes to stay there for two whole days. Two days that Alexia promises will be very fun and relaxing.

The first day is slightly boring. You've never been in Barcelona since you insist that Alexia flies to you since you've started dating which means that she takes this rare occasion to drag you around Barcelona.

You see the massive church that Alexia points out, you've seen it in pictures that Lucy sent you when she first got here but it looks more grand in real life than in the pictures. You see a few more things whilst you get dragged along on a full tour with your favourite tour guide, such as the Camp Nou that you see from the outside only because of renovations.

Although you can't go inside the Camp Nou, you do go into the shop which means that Alexia gets slightly bombarded with a few stray fans while you get to browse around. They've got all three of the kits that you've seen Alexia wear on TV and you pick one up to take a closer look.

Then you feel a hand on your shoulder and flitch back automatically, you whip around to see Alexia smiling slyly.

"Are you buying a shirt?" Alexia says smugly and you suddenly re-think ever picking it up.

"No," You put the red and blue shirt back on the rack and try to walk away but Alexia catches your shoulder.

"Wait, that was a joke," Alexia turns you around and loops her arms around your shoulders while you scoff a little.

"Mm and I'm being serious about not buying it," You smile at her small frown.

It's clearly for show, you've dated Alexia long enough to know that she likes to wind you up with trivial things like this, especially now that you've been together longer.

"Plus, I like the shirt I have at home," You kiss her cheek with a smirk and Alexia scoffs.

"That's Lucy's not yours," Alexia complains and you laugh.

"She's practically given it to me so, technically, it's mine." You point out whilst walking away to the exit.

Alexia walks after you and you slow down to let her catch up so you can exit the store together.

"What if I give you mine?" Alexia asks, hopefully.

You chuckle, "I don't think yours will fit me,"

Alexia sighs exasperatedly, "Lucy's doesn't either!"

You laugh and turn to her, then lower your head so you can press a kiss to her lips. It's nice and soft, a reminder for Alexia that you care about her more than she thinks you do.

"Well, maybe I'll get one with my own name on the back then," You joke and Alexia looks at you pointedly.

You shrug with a chuckle and take her hand again.

"Where to next, my very hot tour guide?"

Alexia grins and kisses your cheek before tugging you off to the next destination.

The next day you spend at home, more accurately, Alexia's apartment handcuffed to a chair in her Barcelona t-shirt and your boxers, that already have a clear wet patch in the front from where your precum is leaking.

"Ale," You whine as Alexia stands in front of you in just her underwear.

She's already wet, you can tell by the way she looks at you but, somehow, she insists on torturing you both. She's just standing there by the sofa looking extremely attractive with her washboard abs and muscular thighs that you can't touch.

"Yes, baby?" Alexia purrs before approaching you and putting her hands on your shoulders but otherwise not touching you.

You're already hard from just kissing Alexia earlier and her dragging this out is only making it hurt more. You really want her to touch you, either palm your cock through the boxers or use her mouth because that always feels like heaven on earth but she's not doing anything.

"Let me touch you, please," You groan.

Alexia looks so sexy it makes you feel slightly fuzzy. She's got your favourite underwear of hers on, you have no clue whether that is a conscience or purposeful but it makes your head spin and blood pump faster.

Alexia smirks and runs her hands down your chest, over the mesh material of the shirt and down to your stomach where your core flexes under her scalding touch. Her nails feel so good on your abs as they grate backwards and forwards but it also drives you up the wall, it makes you harder than before and you so desperately want to thrust your hips into the air.

"I don't know, baby," Alexia pretends to think for a moment as she lays her hand flat on your stomach.

You moan at the heavy touch, every ounce of pressure going straight to your cock and at this point, you might as well come in your underwear. Alexia's got you crazy like you're high off seven things at once without even knowing it.

"Fuck Ale," You sigh when Alexia runs a single nail up the middle of your stomach.

Every touch feels like it might be the last, Alexia is playing some kind of game... or she's trying to test your patience and endurance at once, one of which you lack when it comes to sex with her.

She leans forward and you think she's going to kiss you finally but instead, she changes direction just as you're about to close your eyes and her lips reach the shell of your ear instead.

"You look so good in that shirt, I should ask the president to sign you," Alexia murmurs into your ear in a sultry voice that has your hips thrusting into the air at nothing in particular.

Your breathing speeds up until you're gasping like you've ran a marathon and Alexia is smirking at you as if it's the best thing she's ever seen in her life.

"Unhandcuff me, Ale," You groan and Alexia giggles.

"Have you ever been handcuffed, officer?" Alexia backs away to place her hands on your shoulders, squeezing slightly.

You resist the urge to moan at the petting, every touch feels like a step to combustion. You shake your head a few times, unable to speak the words and thankfully, Alexia doesn't push it.

"There is always time for firsts," Alexia smirks.

You want to yell and break the chair because you don't think you're going to survive not touching Alexia or at least not being able to touch yourself.

Alexia looks you over, you look like a mess.

Your face is flushed along with your neck and she's thoroughly surprised that she's managed to get such a visceral reaction from you. The shirt you're wearing is hers, match worn and all and she's been wet from the moment you put it on. It's a little tight around the arms and shoulders but she's not one to complain.

You're completely hard in your grey boxers and it's been extremely difficult not to drop to her knees at the sight, she's thought about it every time she touches herself and now that the opportunity is right in front of her, it's been very hard to stay cool.

Eventually, after a lot of teasing that has you high as a kite on pure want, Alexia hooks her leg over your lap and places herself directly on top of you cock. The sensation is beyond measure after an hour of constant teasing, even through two pairs of underwear, Alexia feels incredible.

"Fuck, Ale, shit," You ramble as Alexia rolls her hips, grinding down on your clothed cock.

The pressure is just what you want but it's not enough, you want Alexia to let you out of these cuffs so you can fuck her properly but she's not budging.

"Ale, please, let me fuck you like you want me too," You whine and Alexia's hips stutter for a moment at the claim.

There is probably nothing else she wants than to be held down and thoroughly fucked by her hot police officer, maybe nothing other than this.

"Shh..." Alexia shushes against your lips before pressing a kiss to them.

It starts gentle and then turns into a battle of bites and bruises. Alexia's tongue traces each of your canines, studying them like an anatomy lesson before she backs away to bite down on your lip.

You hiss in pain as she licks up the little pool of blood. It's got a metallic taste to it but she doesn't care, she wants to see you just as ruined as you get to see her normally.

She pulls away soon after and you let your head lull to the side for a moment. Alexia has you going into overdrive, every sense heightened a ten-fold meaning that each press of her hips feels like the end and each slip of the tonged like a resurrection.

"I thought you were a good girl for me?" You manage to whisper out, you're so overwhelmed, so needy that you can't speak.

"You know I am, officer," Alexia murmurs against your shoulder before sliding off your lap which makes you jolt at the brief contact and then the loss of it.

"Ale," You start to whine before Alexia cuts you off by taking her underwear off.

You stare at her legs which are covered with her wetness and then at her pussy that practically flows like a river. If Alexia allowed you, then you would spend all day eating her out.

She then shrugs off her bra and your eyes roll into the back of your head at the sight of her boobs. The reminder that you still cannot touch her remains at the forefront of your mind at the weight of the handcuffs dig into your wrists.

She then drops to her knees in front of you and you take a sharp breath in. Alexia on her knees is one of your favourite sights, she's wonderfully beautiful, borderline angelically perfect.

So much so, that the sight of her down on her knees has your head spinning.

She puts a hand over your cock which is still trapped in your boxers and palms up and down a few times.

"Alexia!" You yelp at the firm contact of her hand while she smirks.

It feels like heaven and hell at the same time and you aren't sure where exactly Alexia has come from.

"You want me that bad?" Alexia looks up at you through her lashes and you moan when she makes eye contact.

"Always, Alexia, fuck... Everyday, I think about you," You cry out and Alexia grins.

"I'm very flattered, officer," Alexia chuckles before hooking her hands into the waistband of your boxers, touching the sensitive skin of your torso.

She then pulls them down in one quick motion and then your cock is free to flatten against your jersey-clad stomach. You watch as Alexia throws the boxers to join her pile of underwear and then licks her lips devilishly.

You groan loudly at the action and then cry out when she finally licks a long stripe from the base to the tip of your cock. Her tongue feels like lava in the best way possible and you are burning to get more.

"Ale, shit, you're so good," You praise blindly when Alexia swirls her tongue around the tip.

It feels ethereal, the pure pleasure liquidises itself in your veins and flows straight to your brain, there is nothing else in this moment, just Alexia. You thrash against handcuffs against when she takes you into her mouth fully, you want to card your hand through her hair like you normally do but instead you're forced to stay put.

"You're doing so well, babe, so good for me," You moan wildly.

Alexia has you thinking of only her.

You're close, you can feel it and you chalk it up to the hours of teasing that Alexia has subjected you to but you don't want this to end too soon.

You want to feel her around you more than you want her on her knees.

"Ale, I'm going to come if you keep going," You sigh out in a half groan, half pled.

Alexia looks up at you and then pops off with a smile. In that moment, you figure out that Alexia is not the angel you've seen so far but a devil dressed in disguise.

"That soon?" Alexia teases without any bite and you don't fall for it.

Instead, you focus on the way that she pops off you, the spit connecting her mouth to your cock before she wipes her mouth roughly with the back of her hand. She stands and mounts your thighs, the front of her pussy pressing against your cock in the most delicious way possible. In that moment, you think you might faint from how hot Alexia has you burning.

"Alexia, please, take these off," You tug against the handcuffs again whilst half begging Alexia to get rid of them.

She smiles and leans forward, her bare chest coming to rest against yours as she kisses you slowly. The kiss is deep like Alexia is trying to suck the soul out of you whilst doing so and you savour each pass of her tongue against yours.

Alexia pulls back and rests her forehead against yours, you close your eyes and breathe out deeply. It's moments like these that make the trip worth it.

"I love you," Alexia mumbles, it's barely audible with your heavy breathing but you catch each syllable like a prayer.

"And I love you, Alexia," You whisper back before Alexia takes her forehead away and smirks.

"So, you'll keep the handcuffs on then?" Alexia chuckles as you groan.

She doesn't let you respond because she quickly grips the base of your cock to line it up to her pussy before sinking down. The second you feel the inside of Alexia, you let out a sickening groan, you'd been waiting all this time and now you feel as though you've ascended beyond this moment.

Your head lulls to the side for the second time today and you ball your fists when you bottom out and Alexia breaths out a breathy moan. Every touch feels unreal, like you've run back to back marathons without a break.

Alexia rolls her hips and your mouth drops open, you gasp for air but the gulps don't satiate your hunger. Instead, you let your tongue stick out like a dog as Alexia rides you relentlessly.

She's got her hands gripping your shoulders for stability and you don't know if it helps ground you or just sends you deeper into orbit. She's lifting and dropping her hips without mercy and her own moans bounce off the walls of the living room.

You don't know how long you'll last like this, with Alexia taking you at your mercy. She's rolling and lifting her hips like a machine, enjoying herself as much as you are, you know it. You can tell by the way that she's groaning loudly each time you bottom out.

You try to lean forwards to capture her lips but the handcuffs stop you. You're immobilized, only able to lean forwards the slightest bit and Alexia is just out of your reach.

"Kiss me, baby," You plea and tug at the handcuffs again.

It's like hell and heaven. Alexia feels amazing, perfectly moulded to you and every touch is like a blessing but all you want to do so come, the blister heat boiling inside you slowly taking over with each passing of hers.

Alexia smiles at you and leans forward, letting you capture her lips. You kiss her hard, taking everything you can, allowing you teeth to graze her lips without care. In turn, she groans into your mouth and rolls her hips which elicits a moan of your own.

Alexia then lifts the jersey up so she can palm a hand down your flexed abs and that's when you know you won't hold on much longer. She's touching you everywhere and the pressure feels like a burn in the best way possible.

"Ale, I'm going to come," You moan into her mouth desperately and she only speeds her movement.

"Fuck, me too, baby," Alexia groans as she pulls away from the kiss, a string of long saliva connects the two of you for a moment.

It despairs when your mouth slacks open into a silent moan and you thrash against in the wooden chair. You come hard, maybe the hardest you've ever come and Alexia tightens around you as she reaches her own climax.

The tightness makes it impossible to relax and you tense with the added pressure, your hands grip the parts of the chair you can reach and you think you might have popped a vein.

Alexia slumps against your shoulder when she rides out the high of her orgasm and you let your own head come to rest on top of hers. You breathe heavily, trying to catch your breath and she does the same.

"This might be my favourite holiday ever," You mumble, mostly to yourself but it reaches Alexia's ears non the less.

You can feel her grin against your shoulder, clearly very happy with herself.

"I told you so," Alexia says smugly but there is evident tiredness in her voice that takes over midway.

"Okay, you know best, we've established it, now can I be let out of these?" You nod to the handcuffs and Alexia lifts her head to look at you.

For a minute, you think you might get lost in her honey eyes and you wouldn't mind that.

"I don't know, let me think about it?" Alexia chuckles when you sigh.

The handcuffs get taken off soon after and you carry Alexia into the bathroom because her legs resemble jelly but you don't mind. You'd carry her to the end of the world if you had to.

Whilst in the shower, you take the opportunity to ponder. Maybe taking holidays is a good idea?

[slushycoookie]

9:30pm ~ Logan Howlett x Fem! Reader

✩ Word Count: 1.8k

✩ Content: Fluff, you and Logan take a night to relax, bathe together, you wash his hair, etc. You also do face masks and each other nails (more like Logan does yours). Hairdresser! Reader.

✩ A/N: Just wanted to do something sweet and wholesome with him. This man deserves to relax and take a breather. Enjoy!

Masterlist | Commissions

A long sigh escaped Logan's lips when he dragged himself into the apartment. Duffel bag filled with his cut of the mission was immediately dropped on the floor.

To say he was tired was an understatement.

It didn't stop him from searching for you, though. You weren't in the kitchen, but he saw a note on the fridge with a cute smiley face telling him there were leftovers. Logan checked the bedroom, but you weren't there either.

A faint sound of classical music came from the bathroom, along with your light hums. Logan's shoulders automatically relaxed when he knocked on the door.

“Sugar? I'm back.”

When you opened the door, your face lit up when you saw him. “Welcome back!” You went for a hug, but Logan stopped you, seeing your clean clothes compared to his worn suit.

“Wait, I don't wanna get you dirty.”

You suck your teeth and go for it anyway, hugging him tight around his neck. He doesn't get annoyed at how stubborn you are when he hugs you tighter, missing you.

“I was about to take a bath.” You open the door wider so he can see the water for the bath, as well as your beauty kit for extensive self-care. “You wanna join me?”

How could he say no to that?

You helped him get the suit off. At one point, you were fighting with the belt because it was looped around his waist. Logan chuckled at your struggle before coming to your rescue. You put his suit to the side to wash it later, then removed your own clothes, creating an odd pile in the corner.

With low music in the background and an arm wrapped around your waist, the two of you relaxed in the tub, surrounded by bubbles. Your head was on his chest while he was against the wall. The silence between the two of you occupied the space—quiet enough to fall asleep in the bathroom.

“How was the mission?” You ask, voice soft as if you didn’t want to disturb the serene atmosphere.

Logan groans while recalling the mission. He went with Wade and Domino to deal with an arms dealer who obtained vibranium weapons. The mission wasn't difficult until Wade got his leg chopped off. It set the mission back as Logan and Domino had to wait for his leg to grow back. He wanted to rip Wade's other leg off, frustrated that his partner let that happen, but he knew it would keep you further away from him.

“I would've been home earlier if that didn't happen.”

“It's okay.” You kiss his knuckles. Logan still admits to tensing up whenever you're near where his claws come out. Afraid they'd have a mind of their own and hurt you. But he reveals in your warm touch. “I'm glad you're home safe.”

Logan doesn't let go of your hand, returning the favor when he kisses your inner palm, “How was your day?”

You went over your day at work. How it was decent until the middle of the day when a man was rushing you for a haircut. You were okay with a customer being on a deadline, but he was rushing you for things that shouldn't be rushed, like washing and blow-drying his hair. Plus, he complained about the seemingly reasonable price for a haircut.

“Want me to kill him for ya?”

“No, not yet.” You snort a little, “It was just a little annoying.”

Logan holds you closer, “I won't hesitate to do it.” He smiles against your head at your amusement.

“I know.”

After enough lounging, you two start washing up, taking turns washing each other's bodies. Logan takes the washcloth and drags it across yours, getting the hard-to-reach areas like your back. He's determined to wash every inch of your body while you protest, saying you can wash yourself up. He knows you can, but he prefers to do it.

Logan knows your routine by heart anyway. When he does join you in the shower to fool around, he takes in your washing habits. Using a bar of soap to get rid of the dirt and then a body wash. He sees the lather form on your skin, making sure you're squeaky clean.

Once he’s done, you take over, running the cloth against his body. You're straddling him, making sure his face is clean. You move to his shoulders before pausing. Logan sees you lean in, taking a quick sniff of his hair.

“Ugh, even your hair smells like sweat.”

“I know. Don't worry about that-”

“Too late; I'm washing your hair, too.”

Logan sighs. Nothing could get past you.

He holds in a scowl as you start scrubbing his hair, bubbles forming around him.  At least the scent of mahogany was nice, not too overbearing on his nostrils. You kiss his cheek for comfort was also a bonus.

You two take turns drying each other off. Logan takes this opportunity to try and cop a feel under the excuse of making sure you were dry everywhere. You counteract by pinching his bottom cheek, earning a teasing scowl.

“Let’s do face masks.” You suggest as he’s rubbing lotion on your body.

“You talking about that green shit you put on your face?”

“They're not always green, but yeah.”

Logan grunts, focusing on making sure the lotion is rubbed into your skin. He admires how you take in his hands, appreciating when he doesn’t miss a spot on you. Your chest, arms, torso, thighs, legs.

“So?” You push further when it's your turn, running your hands across his hairy arms and chest.

He softly groans at your soft hands, “What do they even do exactly?”

“It rejuvenates your skin, making it glow.”

“I can think of better alternatives.”

Logan leers at you, rubbing the lotion along his legs, and you roll your eyes. “You just got back from a mission.”

“That’s never stopped me before.” You shoot him a look, and he sighs, “Fine. Let's do it.”

He prefers you being naked in the apartment, but he keeps quiet when you throw on panties and one of his shirts. He notices you’re practically matching once he puts on his tank top and boxers, joining you back in the bathroom. He holds completely still when you put the face mask on him, pressing against his skin to make sure it's still. Logan gets a whiff of peaches as you put yours on.

“Smells good.”

“It does.”

Clearly, you don't need help when you put yours on, a pink sheen across your skin.

Logan snorts at how ridiculous he looks when looking back in the mirror. “How long we gotta leave these on?”

“About fifteen minutes.” You hold his hand, observing his nails. “We should cut your nails too.”

He snatches his hand away, “They’re fine.”

“Yeah, right.”

Usually, when Logan comes home from a mission, he relaxes by grabbing a beer, lounging in his pjs, and hanging out with you for the rest of the night. He didn’t think after taking a bath with you, he ended up getting a face mask and his nails trimmed. Yet, you pull out your nail kit, instructing him to hold out his hands.

“You know this will give Wade some more ammunition, right?”

“Only if I paint them.” You freeze momentarily, “Can I paint them-”

“No.”

“I'll call Laura and have her convince you.”

Logan scoffs, seeing through your bluff. “You're not calling her.”

You playfully pout before continuing to file down his nails, “They're not gonna be as pretty.”

“They will be if you're doing them.” He grins at you, holding back a smile as you keep going. Logan watches you, taking in your eyes filled with concentration, brows scrunched. He does his best to not move for you. Although, he wasn’t sure he liked the feeling of you filing his nails.

“You want me to do yours?”

“Do you know how?”

“I don't have a damn clue.” He admits, “But it gives me an excuse to touch you more.”

You bit your lip, holding back at how flustered you were getting at his words. Still waiting for the time to remove the masks, it was your turn when you sat on the bed. Logan tried to hold your hand gently, listening to your instructions on how to do your nails. He asked for your opinion multiple times to ensure your nails were correctly filed down.

Once he got the word of approval, he took it a step further, grabbing your kit and seeing the rows of nail polish colors you had.

“Wait a minute, I can’t do yours, but you wanna do mine?”

“You got a problem with that?”

You tsk and grab the kit from him, searching for a decent color to put on. You end up picking a silver color, reminding you of his claws. Logan admires the color before crouching in front of you. For some reason, he’s a little nervous, thinking back to how calm and collected you are doing other people’s nails. You encourage him by saying to take it slow.

“Why is the brush so fucking small?” He complains when twisting off the top.

“You know our nails are small, right?”

Logan shakes his head and lets out a shaky breath. He starts with a thumb, swiping the brush across it. It wasn’t bad. He only managed to get the sides a little bit. He does it again and feels his heart swell with confidence when your nail looks decent.

“It looks good, baby.”

“Yeah?” He perks up, and you giggle.

“Yeah.”

Logan does the rest of your nails, taking his time to avoid making a mess. He managed to get the sides a few more times, but they looked really good.

To make sure your nails matched, he unleashed his claws. You gaped at how the color was identical. And that makes his heart soar.

“Think I’m good enough to be your assistant now?”

“Hmm, come back to me after you’ve had more practice.” You kiss him for thanks and hold your nails out to dry.

When it was time to remove the masks, Logan did yours first. Pulling yours off wasn’t much of a struggle, although you did flinch a bit as the mask clung to your skin. His eyes went wide, seeing your face glow under the intense bathroom light.

“Damn.”

“See? I told you.”

He pulls his own off in one motion, ignoring the slight pain from some hairs that were removed. He checks himself out in the mirror, clearly seeing a difference in his skin. Logan didn’t want to admit this in front of you, but he wanted to put on more of those masks.

As always, you see right through him, “Ooh, just wait until I tell Laura.”

“As long as you don’t tell Wade.”

[giuseppe-yuki]

pranks

carlos sainz x meerkat shapeshifter!reader

w.c.: 1.5k

warnings: a few curse words?

part of my shapeshifting!reader series

summary: a prank kind of backfires on you and carlos

edit: bonus headcanons!

picture credits from pinterest :)

honestly, you thought your favorite mode of transportation must be riding on carlos’ broad shoulders. with such a tall vantage point, you could see farther ahead compared to if you walking on the ground. plus, you wouldn’t be trampled on by over-eager fans, you didn’t have to tire your legs out, and you’d be able to catch a whiff of the familiar smell of carlos’ cologne. 

you adjust your grip on carlos’ racing red ferrari kit, digging your paws into the soft material and curling your body around his neck. the paddock in suzuka was real pretty, with cherry blossoms framing the walkway.

carlos continues walking into the paddock, occasionally stopping to sign hats and merch. a few little fans asked to pet you too, and you gladly scurried down carlos’ arm to let them stroke your fur with sticky fingers that kids always seem to have. a child completely covered in george merch even stopped to hand-feed you a piece of fruit. 

when he arrives in his motorhome, he gently sets you down on the sofa. he collapses next to you, body sprawled on the couch. “ugh, that was exhausting.” he says exasperatedly. “there is still-” he checks his watch. “two hours until fp3?? i swear to god, my manager must have messed up the schedule.” 

he leans back into the couch, and then fishes a peanut out of the pocket of his jeans. your boyfriend always seemed to have a stache of your favorite meerkat-friendly snacks in his pocket. not that you minded- you were always down for a little snack now and then.

he flings the peanut at you, and you manage to avoid the flying nut by a centimeter. you whip your head back at him, glaring at him the most vicious way possible. 

his mouth is open, hand still frozen in the throwing position. “omg! i swear to god i did not mean to throw it that hard, mi amor.” he scoops you up and pats your tiny head. reaching into his pocket again, he takes out another peanut and hands it to you gingerly. 

you accept the peanut and crack it open, but continue to glare at him. while you munch on the peanut, carlos looks down at you with a glimmer of mischievousness in his big brown eyes. you knew that look- he only did that when he had a particularly funny prank that he wanted to pull (the last time he had that look in his eyes was when he came up with the idea to put 100 miniature rubber snakes around charles’ drivers room). 

“i’ve just had the funniest idea,” he exclaims. “since we have so much time on our hands, we should go to mclaren to annoy lando!” 

ever since being associated with carlos, you have been dragged into so many of his pranks around the paddock that a glance at your meerkat form has people wondering if carlos was planning another mischievous trick. it was the polar opposite of your normal human form. i mean, who would suspect carlos’ nice reserved girlfriend to also be his havoc-causing meerkat sidekick?

the mclaren employees shoot you both suspicious glances as carlos strolls through the mclaren motorhome. he creeps around corners and listens through every door. you hold on to his team kit with your sharp paws for dear life- you surely would have slid off already if you hadn’t. it’s only when he comes across a sitting area with two familiar figures that he stops. 

“you’re not very adventurous with food, are you?” you hear oscar say, holding what seems to be a red-bean mochi in between his fingertips. 

“well, i don’t wanna be,” lando shoots back, pushing the japanese snack away from him.

carlos creeps behind lando, and hands you several peanuts that he fished from his pockets. taking advantage of lando and oscar’s bickering, he lets you slide off of his shoulders. you bolt full speed towards lando and start throwing the peanuts at his head while screeching. 

he yelps, jumps out of his chair, and scurries behind a nearby table to hide. oscar, spotting your tiny figure compared to lando’s cowering body next to the table, starts cackling. 

a full hour hadn’t even passed for carlos to get that look in his eyes again. this time, you were busy piecing together a 2000 piece puzzle of ayrton senna in the mostly empty dining hall when you see him approach you.

“what now,” you say, raising an eyebrow. 

a wide grin splits your boyfriend’s face. “let’s go steal charles’ helmet!” he whispers, just in case charles or any of his team members are nearby. 

poor charles was almost always on the receiving end of carlos’ pranks (although you did hear about pierre somehow obtaining a snake and sneaking into charles’ room with it). you swear that it is going to backfire one day. 

nevertheless, you agree, leaving half of senna’s face and his car’s front wing done on the table. 

it was a really quick process, as you shifted, scurried past the mechanics and lifted charles’ signature red helmet off of the counter in one swoop. no one batted an eye as you pushed the helmet out of the garage and into carlos’ arms. 

“yess! good job, baby!” he cheers, once the helmet is in his hand. “now where to hide it?”

he looks around, before finally walking into the gap in between the aston martin and ferrari motorhomes. you scurry after him, paws hitting the ground at full speed. at the end is a little secluded space, surrounded on all four sides by walls or other teams’ motorhomes. he snickers, and sets charles’ helmet on the ground. pulling out his phone, he snaps a picture, ready to send to charles as a taunt. 

you proceed to turn, brushing strands of meerkat fur off of your flowy shortskirt. “not even a thank you, carlos?” you say, tilting your head. “i risked my life out there stealing his helmet!” 

before he can answer, you hear the clonk of a waterbottle dropping near the ferrari motorhome. standing there, mouth open in shock, stands charles leclerc, the owner of the helmet that you stole. “did you just-” he starts.

carlos, realizing your secret might get out through charles, marches through the gap, snatches the familiar white celcius water bottle from the ground, and yanks charles into the secluded space. 

you stand very still next to the helmet, not knowing if you wanted to bolt and hide in a hole so you’d never be seen again, or to slap carlos for exposing your secret, to his teammate, no less. you knew that carlos’ tricks would backfire one day.

“mate, please, please, please do not tell anyone about this!” carlos says, clutching charles’ shirt. 

once the initial shock has worn off, charles shocked expression turns into a smirk. “of course i’ll tell people about this! you literally stole my helmet and you expect me not to expose you for taking my things? besides, it’s a payback for pranking me so much! i still find those stupid rubber snakes that you hid in my room everywhere. i always have to call my girlfriend to help me get rid of them.” 

you step up next to carlos and charles, a confused expression on your face. “wait. so you didn’t see me turn?”

a look of understanding flashes across charles’ face. “ohhh!!” he remarks. “you mean the meerkat thing?”

“yes!” you and carlos both say simultaneously. 

“don’t worry, i won’t tell!” charles says, to both of your guy’s relief. “don’t you know, my girlfriend can shift into a hedgehog? no offense, i think that’s way cooler than a meerkat,” he states with a smug smile on his face.

“oi, pendejo!” carlos says, narrowing his eyes. “how dare you say that!”

you laugh, putting an hand on carlos’ shoulder. “it’s okay baby, i’m just glad this didn’t turn out into a bad situation!” 

charles shoots you an appreciative grin, knowing you saved him from potential physical altercation with carlos. it quickly dissipates, however, when he sees his helmet behind your legs.

“right, back to the helmet, how dare you steal it! fred would’ve killed me if i showed up to fp3 without it!” 

understanding the power charles has now knowing your secret, carlos apologizes. “we are sorry, charles. i promise i won’t ever steal any of your things again!” 

charles continues to stand there, waiting for him to continue.

“-and i won’t play any more pranks on you, i swear!” he says quickly. 

charles nods once, satisfied with carlos’ promise.

from side facing the motorhomes, fernando sticks his head into the gap separating the two teams. spotting you three standing there, he jokes, “you guys having a party in there, or what?” 

t-minus 20 minutes until fp3, charles sets his water bottle on the counter and pulls on his balaclava. across the motorhome, carlos is doing this same. when charles finishes adjusting the material over his head and nose, he suddenly sees a flash of fur on the counter. it’s you, bolting away like your life is on the line with his water bottle in hand. 

“CARLOS!” you hear him shout.

from your hiding spot in one of the engineer’s headphone cubbies, you see carlos scramble over to charles. 

“what? is everything alright?” carlos says, concerned. 

“your girlfriend just stole my waterbottle!” he whispers heatedly, pointing at you sitting innocently in the cubby like everything was normal, except for the fact that a white racing waterbottle, complete with a long straw and a “charles leclerc” sticker is sitting next to you. carlos laughs, “i mean- i did only promise that i won’t steal anything or pull any pranks on you; i didn't promise my girlfriend wouldn't!”

taglist: @ilivbullyingjeongin @ale-522 @formula1-motogpfan @aceyalonso @my0hmary @mbappebby @rakshatos @heartsforleclerc @papaya-twinks @madkohi

[merrybloomwrites]

We Know Where We Belong

Summary: When your brother starts working with Harry Styles, you're so excited to see him accomplishing his dreams. What you don't expect is the way this will change your life, and all for the better.

It may take time to get your happy ending with Harry, but when you do, the wait is completely worth it.

Word Count: 9.4K

CW: attempted assault leading to injury that needs surgery, allusions to sex, pregnancy & mention of childbirth

AN: I started this last June and it was originally just supposed to be a cute family story about reader as Mitch's sister, but then decided I wanted to make it a Harry x reader instead.

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Your whole life, you always looked up to your two big brothers. Beckett is the oldest, thirteen years older than you, and one of your first memories is of him getting his first car when he was sixteen. He was always nice to you when he was around, but truthfully that wasn’t a lot. He had his group of friends that he always went to hang out with, and he left for college when you were only five years old. 

Mitch was the opposite, hanging home most of the time, though often hidden in his room. There was always music playing, whether from his radio, or from his guitar. He was always practicing, and you thought he was the best guitar player in the whole world. Sometimes, when Beckett was out, Mitch would play on his drum kit. You were sworn to secrecy, which didn’t always suit you. As the little sister, the baby of the family, you felt it was your duty to stir the pot. But when Mitch promised to teach you guitar in exchange for you staying quiet about the drums, you had to agree. 

The guitar lessons were your favorite activity. Mitch would teach you different skills, always patient when you needed extra help to understand something. Plus, you got to watch him play, and he would test out new song ideas on you. It wasn’t the best idea if he wanted constructive feedback, since you thought everything he played was the coolest thing ever, but it made you feel so special that he trusted you so much.

When Mitch got his driver's license, the first thing he did was take you to get ice cream. Instead of disappearing with friends all the time like Beckett had done, Mitch would take you on some sort of outing each week. But his schedule started to fill up with school, and work, and practicing music with some other boys in the neighborhood. Though he still made sure to hang with you, your guitar lessons and trips to the ice cream parlor started to become less frequent. 

And then he left for college. And you tried to ignore your sadness at how much you missed him. You got into new hobbies which kept you busy and introduced you to new friends. You continued practicing guitar, and all your hard work paid off when Mitch came home to visit and was impressed by your progress. He was always there for your big moments, like when you won the spelling bee and that time your softball team went all the way to states. 

He came back home for a bit after college, but he spent most of his time working and practicing music. You were busy as well, having grown to love your extracurriculars and you had a solid friend group that you were always hanging out with.

But when Mitch announced he was moving to Los Angeles you were devastated. Him going to college was hard enough, and he was only two hours away. But California? This time you didn’t hide your feelings. To fourteen old you, this was the end of the world. Instead of hanging with his friends the night before he left, he spent it at home, having a movie marathon and reassuring you that he’d never be more than a phone call away.

It was hard saying good-bye, but you were proud of him for following his dreams. Your high school years both dragged on and flew by at the same time, and before you knew it you were getting college acceptance letters. While your friends were excited for their Ivy League acceptances or admittance to the biggest party schools, you had your eyes set on one place in particular. 

You called Mitch when the letter came, opening it on Facetime. You screamed in excitement when you saw the words “You’re In!” 

It was official. You were going to UCLA, and were going to live in the same city as Mitch.

Of course your parents worried about their eighteen year old moving so far away, but knowing your brother was close by eased their fears. You flew out that summer, working a waitress job and staying with Mitch who insisted he sleep on the couch so you could have his room. He pretended to be put out and annoyed, but you could tell he was happy to have you there.

And then he got the call. The big break he’d been waiting and working his whole life for. He didn’t tell you the details at first, since you were both busy and didn’t see each other much over those first few days. He mentioned he was working in the studio, but that was all. It wasn’t until Sunday afternoon that you two finally had some time together to hang out. 

“How’s the new gig?” You ask. 

“Honestly, it’s pretty sick. I’m working with Harry Styles,” he replies casually. 

You stare at him for a moment, thinking you must have misheard him. No way has your brother been working with Harry Styles for the past week. 

“Are you serious?” You finally ask. 

“Yea.”

“Harry Styles?”

“Yes.”

“From One Direction?”

“Mhmm.”

“Mitch! Are you serious?”

“Yes, Y/N, I’m completely serious. Why?”

“Why? Because it’s Harry Styles! You’ve met him? You’re working with him? Mitch this is insane! He’s like- he so- oh my god!”

“I’m not following,” Mitch says after your outburst. 

“Mitch, Harry is from one of the biggest boy bands in the world! I was obsessed with them! How do you not know this? And he was always my favorite. And then he grew his hair out and got even hotter.”

“Well, I hate to break it to you but he just cut it.”

“Shut the fuck up. You’re lying.”

“Sorry, but no. He went yesterday, here,” Mitch says and pulls up a picture on his phone. It is without a doubt Harry, his long locks gone. It takes a minute to get used to but you finally reply, “Well, he still looks damn good.”

“Glad to know you’re thirsting over my boss,” he says in a teasing voice. 

“Your boss. That’s so bizarre.”

“You want to meet him?”

“Seriously?”

“Yes, seriously. Stop asking that.”

“I mean, obviously I want to meet him!”

“Ok. I’ll talk to him. Maybe you can visit the studio next week.”

“Holy shit. Wait. No. Don’t do that.”

“So you don’t want to meet him?”

“I do! But no! Cause that’s terrifying.”

Mitch laughs at that and asks, “How is that terrifying? He’s super nice. Very chill. I promise.”

“Ok fine. Yes, I'd like to come and meet him.”

“Then I’ll set it up.”

“Can I ask about the music you guys are working on?”

“You can ask. But I’m probably not supposed to say anything yet. Maybe you can get a little preview when you visit,” Mitch says.

The two of you continue to talk, though Mitch is reluctant to share more details about Harry or his work. 

You’re busy with your job most of the week, but somehow manage to get Friday off, which is perfect because Mitch has set it up for you to come visit the studio and meet the others. 

You head over with your brother mid-morning, and ignore the way he’s teasing you. Of course you’re nervous to meet Harry Styles, but does Mitch really need to point that out?

Luckily Harry isn’t there when you arrive at the studio, giving you some time to look around at all the equipment. Mitch asks you to tune one of the guitars for him and you do so happily, enjoying having something to focus on.

When you finish that, Mitch grabs another guitar and the two of you play together for a couple minutes. It feels like all those times back home, and any anxiety you had earlier has melted away.

When you finish the song you’re playing you hear someone clapping behind you. The person then says, “Good to know there’s a backup Rowland if we ever need one.” 

Your eyes go comically wide as you realize the person behind you is none other than Harry Styles. Thankfully your brother decides to have pity on you, and instead of teasing you he simply says, “Harry, I’d like you to meet my sister, Y/N.”

You stand and turn, and Harry says, “Hello Y/N, I’m Harry. It’s nice to meet you.” He puts out his hand and you reach forward to shake it, and reply, “It’s nice to meet you as well.”

“While I’d love to chat a bit more, I had this idea last night and I’m itching to get started. You’re free to hang out. It’s pretty casual here. And then maybe you and Mitch can join me for dinner tonight?”

“Sounds good,” you say. “Thank you for letting me watch today, I’m excited to see what you guys are working on.”

“Of course. It’s good to have an audience, get some feedback.”

With that, you take a seat and spend the next couple of hours watching with fascination as they work. The time passes quickly and before you know it you’re seated with Harry and your brother at a nearby restaurant. 

It’s a great evening, and while you’d been nervous to meet Harry, you quickly discover that wasn’t necessary. He’s so friendly and welcoming, and the two of you keep getting lost in conversation, Mitch occasionally managing to get a few words in. But he doesn’t mind. He’s just interested in watching the two of you interact, keeping a big brother eye out. 

After stretching out the meal as long as possible you and Mitch say goodbye to Harry. You don’t expect the hug Harry gives you, and you really don’t expect it to be so prolonged. But you’re not complaining. 

Mitch, however, has some questions once the two of you get home.

“So, what’d you think of Harry?” he asks.

“He’s nice,” you answer simply.

“That’s all? You don’t have a major crush on him or anything?”

You roll your eyes and reply, “Of course I do. Who wouldn’t? He’s attractive, talented, kind. Pretty much the whole package.”

“I just don’t want you getting your feelings hurt.”

“I know. And I promise this is just a silly crush. I’m not gonna act on it and like, lose my mind and ask him out. Plus I’m sure these feelings will pass if I spend more time with him.”

As it turns out, your feelings do not pass. Over the next couple of weeks you see Harry on occasion, and each time, those feelings only grow. You just love everything about him. And he always makes you feel special, and happy. 

When you move into the dorms to start freshman year, Harry is there to help carry your things inside. He texts you after your first day asking how your classes are going. He checks in, and he sends food to your dorm that weekend to celebrate a successful first week.

And then he leaves. Well, him and his whole team, including your brother, for a two month writing retreat in Jamaica. You’re sad to be left behind and to have to say goodbye to them, but college is keeping you busy. While you miss them a bit, you’re focused on classes and you’ve made a great group of friends, so you don’t really have time to dwell on it.

That being said, you are excited when they come back. 

You spend time with both Mitch and Harry, but midterm season is a lot, so you tend to be hunkered down in the library or your dorm studying.

Even when your exams are finished, you still have one project hanging over you, so you spend one more evening focused at the library. You finally complete and submit it, and check the clock for the first time in hours, surprised to see it’s almost 10PM. 

You quickly pack up your things and head out, not wanting to interact with the library worker who would kick you out if you stay another five minutes.

It’s a quiet night on campus as you walk back to your dorm, and you’re enjoying the fresh air when all of a sudden someone roughly grabs and twists your arm. You turn in shock and the man pulls you off the path and into a dark alley.

Through the panic in your mind, you can’t help but think of how much of a cliched situation you’ve gotten into. But then he twists your arm even harder and you cry out in pain. That’s when his mouth roughly covers yours, both to try and quiet you, and to start what he’s obviously trying to do to you. 

Refusing to give in you do the one piece of self defense you can think of, and knee him in the balls as hard as you can. It works, and he backs away, but not before shoving you back so your head hits the wall. You cry out in pain, and thankfully that is heard by a group of students walking by. 

Two girls rush over to help you while a few boys surround your attacker, ensuring he can’t get away. 

“Hey, let’s sit for a minute,” one of the girls says and helps you to the ground. You can hear the other girl on the phone, presumably to get emergency services there. 

“Is there someone you want us to call?” 

“Uhm, yea. My brother.” You take a deep breath, trying to keep the panic and shock at bay in order to open your phone and click on Mitch’s contact.

It rings, and Mitch answers with a cheerful, “Hey, what’s up?”

For some reason, hearing his voice breaks through the barriers you’re trying to build, and you start to cry, too hard to even get any words out.

“Y/N, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” he asks, now clearly panicked. 

Realizing you won’t be able to explain, the girl wraps an arm around you and takes the phone, saying, “Hi, my name is Layla. My friends and I were walking on campus and heard a commotion. Your sister, she uhm, there was a guy. I think he hurt her arm, and uhm-” she stops for a moment and turns to you, asking if you were hurt anywhere else.

“Yea. My head. He hit it against the wall,” you manage to explain.

She nods and turns back to the phone, “She says he hurt her head as well.”

You don’t hear Mitch’s response but then Layla says, “I’ll send you a message with our location, hold on. Okay there, you should be able to find us. We have police and an ambulance on the way. My friends and I will stay with her.”

A moment later the phone is handed back to you. The call is still going so you put it up to your ear to hear Mitch say, “We’re on our way. We’re just down the street, we'll be there soon, I promise.” 

“Okay,” you choke out through your tears. 

It’s relatively calm for a minute or two, and then the scene becomes chaotic. The police and ambulance both arrive, and a moment later so does Mitch. You’re so happy to see him that it takes you a moment to realize Harry is there as well. 

You reach out your uninjured arm to your brother and he quickly sits beside you. He holds your hand and gently strokes your hair out of your face, wanting to comfort you but still way of any injuries you have. 

“Hi, I’m Colleen,” says a paramedic as she crouches down to your level. Before she can say anything else there’s a commotion. The police officers are cuffing your attacker and leading him to the car. 

As this happens, the man looks at you and shouts, “This is all the stupid sluts fault! You bitch!”

You turn to Mitch and tuck yourself into his chest to hide, but still hear the voices around you all yelling at the man to drown him out. One voice stands out, and Harry clearly says, “You’d better stop talking right now, or you’re going to regret it.”

“Harry!” Mitch shouts, calling him off before he can make an even bigger scene. Mitch knows that Harry Styles attacking anyone, even such a lowlife, would not do well for his image. 

Harry quickly walks over and kneels on the ground. You pull away from Mitch a bit and Harry gently places a hand on your cheek and asks, “Are you alright?” The concern is clear on his face, and though you’ve been friends for months, you're still surprised by the intensity of how much he cares for you right now. 

“I’m okay,” you say quietly. “Just wanna go home.”

“I’m sorry,” Colleen says beside you. “By the looks of that arm you’ll need a stop at the hospital first. And I’m told you hit your head as well so we’ll need to check that too.”

Harry steps back to let the paramedics do their work, and you pout at the distance. Your tears return as they splint your arm, and the next thing you know you’re being placed on a stretcher. 

Before they can get you in the ambulance, a police officer walks over and asks for your statement. 

“Does this have to be done right now?” Harry asks.

“We can wait up to 48 hours, but it’s best to do it now. It’s easier to get it done, and the memory is most fresh now,” the officer explains. 

“It’s alright, I’d rather just get it over with,” you say. 

You tell them exactly what happened, your grip on Mitch’s hand tightening as you do so. By the time you’re done explaining, tears are rolling down your cheeks again and your brother gently wipes them away. Harry turns his back to you, but not before you see the angry expression he’s obviously trying to hide.

You look at Mitch and see that his expression is mostly concerned, but he’s definitely mad as well. That’s when you realize that up until now, you hadn’t mentioned the man forcing himself on you. But now that Harry and Mitch know about the kiss, their worst fear is confirmed. This wasn’t a mugging, or someone trying to scare you. No, this man had nefarious plans, and if Layla and her friends weren’t nearby, this would have ended so much worse.

“Thank you,” the officer says, pulling you out of your swirling thoughts. “We have your contact information and we’ll be in touch with any updates or further questions.”

Colleen speaks next, saying, “Let’s get you taken care of so you can get home, hm?”

“Sounds good to me,” you reply, comforted by her calm and straightforward demeanor. 

“Which hospital?” Harry asks, and after hearing the reply, says, “Great, I’ll meet you guys there.”

The next few hours are a blur, and yet also pass in slow motion. Even with Harry pulling strings, it takes forever to get the tests and scans needed. And while you get the good news that you don’t have a concussion, it turns out your arm is worse than expected.

You have what you’re told is called a Galezzi fracture, so not only is the bone broken, but there’s a dislocation at your wrist as well. The worst part is that this requires surgery to fix. But at least it’s considered emergent, and after a few more tests, you’re taken into surgery. 

By that evening you find yourself settling into a comfy bed at Harry’s home. You’re quite fuzzy on the details, since the pain meds in the hospital are rather strong, but Mitch explains that your surgery went great and there was no need for you to stay overnight. And apparently Harry insisted that you all stay with him for a little while, since his place is most secure. 

It’s not even dinnertime, and yet you’re exhausted. Mitch helps you settle in bed and says, “Get some rest. I might run to the store to grab ingredients to make grandma’s soup, but I shouldn’t be gone long, and Harry is downstairs if you need him.”

It doesn’t take long for you to fall asleep, and you’re completely unaware of the conversation happening downstairs.

“Hey, can I talk to you for a minute?” Mitch asks, sitting down at the kitchen table across from Harry who’s sipping a cup of tea.

“Yea, of course,” Harry replies.

“Don’t get me wrong, I’m grateful for all of your help since last night. But you’ve really gone out of your way for me and Y/N. I mean, coming with me, staying with us all night at the hospital, and now having us stay with you? It’s very kind of you, but it’s also a lot. It’s more than I could expect.”

“Mitch, I don’t mind at all. It’s truly not a bother. I have the means to help, and, well I care about you and Y/N.”

They sit quietly for a moment, then Mitch says, “Y/N likes you. The only reason I’m telling you is because those drugs they gave her are pretty strong and I’m almost positive she’s going to spill the beans in the next day or two. But she does. You were her celebrity crush, and she swears that she doesn’t see you the same way anymore. But now I think it’s just a normal crush on a guy she’s friends with. And here you are, as a knight in shining armor, taking care of her after a traumatic experience. I just don’t want her getting hurt.”

“I promise, I would never hurt her,” Harry says emphatically. 

“I know. I also know that I’d kill you if you ever did. I don’t care that you are my friend and my boss.”

“I would expect nothing less,” Harry says, thinking of his own sister and how he’d react in that situation.

“Just, let her down easy, okay?”

Harry is silent again before finally asking, “Can I be honest here?”

“Of course,” Mitch says, curious to hear what comes next.

“I uhm, I like Y/N too. I know that she’s my best friend's sister and all, but I’ve liked her since that first time she visited the studio. But my life is so complicated right now, and I’ve been trying to keep my distance and keep my feelings at bay, but they’re definitely there. I just don’t know what to do.”

“Take me out of the equation,” Mitch says. “I know people say not to date friend’s siblings, but don’t let me hold you back. Obviously I wouldn’t recommend asking her out until she’s recovered from this situation, and you should figure out if it could work with the tour you’re planning. But, I think you’re a good guy. And, uh, I think you and Y/N could be happy together.” 

Silence falls over the pair again. Seeing that Harry is deep in thought, Mitch says, “I’ll let you ponder on that a bit. Is it okay if I run to the store? I told Y/N that you’d be here if she needs anything.”

“Absolutely, of course that’s fine. See you in a bit.”

Harry continues to sit at the table, after Mitch has left, after he’s finished his tea; he sits there and thinks about the conversation with Mitch.

The only thing to break him out of his reveries is the sound of someone in distress. He stands up and immediately heads to the stairs, running up them two at a time when he hears you cry out again. He walks into the bedroom at the exact moment when you finally wake up from your nightmare. 

For a moment he stands there, waiting for you to indicate what you need. At the same time you freeze, reorienting to where you are. Once your brain finally catches up, you reach out to Harry with your good arm. He understands your request for comfort and sits next to you, carefully helping you shift so you can settle in his arms. 

He holds you gently, wiping away the tears that have started falling once again. “It’s okay,” he murmurs. “You’re okay. You’re safe. I’ve got you, love.” You slowly relax until you’re able to fall back to sleep, cuddled against Harry. 

When Mitch arrives home he unloads the groceries and promptly checks on you. He’s surprised to see Harry in bed with you and whispers, “Everything alright?”

Harry nods and replies, “Yea, she had a bad dream but she’s good now.”

“Alright, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”

Mitch leaves, and Harry continues to hold you, imagining what it would be like to be able to wrap his arms around you in better circumstances. 

He desires a relationship with you, has for months now. But he knows it wouldn’t be fair to start something when he’s planning to travel so much so soon. He can’t ask you to leave school and come with him, but he can’t leave you behind. 

As you continue to sleep, he comes to the conclusion that the time isn’t right. He’ll release his album, do his tour, and then he can ask you out.

It’s a smart decision. But it’s one he’ll regret for years to come. 

Early the next year, Harry is busier than ever, getting everything ready for his album release. He’s put together a band that he’s excited to perform with, each member showing extreme talent while still remaining down to earth. 

Your arm has healed, but the nature of the injury has made your left hand weaker. No matter how much you try, you can’t play guitar the way you used to. You simply don’t have enough strength in your left hand to press down hard enough on the strings to make the clear sound needed.

You spend time at the studio, watching the band practice and then practicing yourself when they finish. Mitch stays with you, trying to help you retrain your hand, but even with the physical therapy you’ve been doing, you just can’t get it. 

The others are aware of your struggle as well, and all give encouragement. But it’s Sarah who does more and says, “Have you tried drums? You don't need quite as much strength in your fingers, just need to be able to hold the sticks. 

The three of you stay for hours that evening as Mitch and Sarah work together to teach you the basics. It’s fun, and therapeutic, and you can’t help but feel that you may be playing matchmaker. You know your brother, and it’s easy to see the way he looks at Sarah, how he acts around her. 

And from what you can tell, Sarah feels the same way. You admit you’d love for that to be true. Sarah is so nice, and always makes you feel at ease. You wouldn’t mind having her join the family, and it would be nice to finally have another girl around. 

But as always, the next journey begins. Harry, Mitch, and all the others have a busy year ahead of them. 

They leave to travel the world and play concerts for all of Harry’s adoring fans. You dive into your studies, and by the end of the fall semester of sophomore year, you’re happy to report to Mitch that you have a boyfriend. 

It’s amazing how quickly time can fly. Life has changed throughout your time in college, and you’re now in the fall semester of senior year. 

Mitch has helped Harry with his second album, which will be released in just a couple of months. Just like last time, you occasionally got to hear songs as they were being written, giving feedback but mostly being amazed. 

Unfortunately, your boyfriend was not all that happy with you spending time at the studio. After nearly two years together, his bad side reared its ugly head, in the most unexpected way. The last thing you thought you’d see when bringing coffee to his dorm was him in bed with another girl. And yet, that’s exactly what you walked in on.

The fight that ensues isn’t pretty, and it ends with you single and heartbroken, immediately making your way to the studio where Harry and his band are rehearsing. 

“What’s wrong?” Mitch asks the second you walk in.

“Nothing,” you state, clearly lying.

“Liar,” Mitch replies.

“I broke up with Aaron.”

At this news, Mitch and Sarah sit on either side of you on the couch. The rest of the band heads to another room to take a break. And Harry, well, he seems busy, fiddling with a notebook nearby.

“What happened, love?” Sarah asks as she wraps an arm around your shoulders, God, you’re grateful to have her in your life right now.

“I caught him in bed with another girl,” you explain.

If you weren’t so upset, Mitch and Harry’s reactions would probably be comical. 

“He did what?” they shout in unison, clearly outraged on your behalf. You expected this from your brother, but you’re thrown by how angry Harry is. 

“I was bringing him coffee, because he said he was working on a project. That ‘project’ ended up being named Margo. And it turns out he lied to her because she was very surprised to find out there was a girlfriend. So he’s the only asshole here. Margo punched him in the dick, so that was appreciated.”

“Sweetheart, I’m so sorry,” Sarah says.

You want to brush it off, say you’re fine. But it’s not. “Two years together and he just goes and does this? I mean, I thought he was the one! That we’d get married and have kids and all that shit. And now I have to start over?”

“At least you found the truth now before wasting any of your time,” Sarah says.

“You’re young, you have plenty of time to find someone who isn’t a total dick,” Mitch adds. 

“Ugh, I guess you’re right. But,” you pause, collecting your thoughts before saying, “But why wasn’t I enough for him?”

“Hey, don’t even think like that,” Harry says. “You are more than enough. He isn’t good enough for you, you understand me?”

Once again taken aback by his intensity, you nod to show that you’re listening. 

“C’mon, let’s go,” Harry says.

“What? Go where? You guys are in the middle of rehearsal.”

“We rehearsed all day yesterday, we’ll rehearse all day tomorrow. We can end a bit early today. I bet everyone could use a night off. We’ll go out, get some food, get some drinks, it’ll be fun!” 

And that’s how you find yourself in the middle of an L.A. nightclub on a Thursday night, grateful that your schedule for this semester does not include any Friday classes. Because while the night starts pretty tame, things… escalate.

You’re newly 21, and heartbroken, and you’ve had drinks in hand all night, though you haven’t bought a single one for yourself. It’s the perfect formula for things to get crazy. 

Mitch and Sarah head out after a couple hours. They worry about leaving you, but you reassure them a dozen times that you’ll be fine, and Harry tells them he’ll keep an eye on you. That’s enough for them to leave you alone with Harry. In your tipsy state you admit to yourself that this is, in fact, the desired outcome.

You thought you’d gotten over this crush years ago, but being here with him, recently single and a few drinks deep, you know that was a lie. You’d simply pushed down your feelings, told yourself you only liked him as a friend.

And then a song comes on that you love, and you pull Harry out to the dance floor. He goes willingly, happy that you’re no longer in a relationship and he doesn’t need to feel bad about being attracted to you. He hasn’t had much to drink, since his goal for the night is to make sure you’re safe and having a good time, but he’s had enough to feel a little loose. 

Which explains why his hands find your waist just seconds after yours loop around his neck. He pulls you close, until you’re nearly flush against him. The two of you get lost in the music, moving together to the beat, unaware that you’re pulling each other closer. 

It isn’t until his lips brush against yours that you realize your proximity. But neither of you pull away. Instead, Harry presses forward, his lips meeting yours in a surprisingly sweet kiss. It only lasts a second and then he’s gone, stepping back and saying, “We shouldn’t.”

You know he’s right, and part of you feels rejected. But another part of you rejoices in the fact that he kissed you. Not the other way around. Your mind wanders with possibilities, the possibility that he likes you, that he finds you attractive. Maybe he really does want you, but he’s being a gentleman. Afterall, you’ve been drinking, and you just got broken up with. 

This theory is backed by the fact that he still has a hand on your waist, making sure he remains in contact even just a little bit. 

“It’s getting late. We should get going,” he says next.

You pout and say, “Don’t wanna go back to my dorm.”

“Mitch and Sarah’s then?” He suggests.

“So I can see them being annoyingly in love? I’d rather not.”

“Okay. Do you want to stay in my guest room?” he asks, and you light up at the suggestion.

“Yes, please!” you say excitedly. You’ve spent some time at his place, having slept in that bed before after events at his house, and it’s the comfiest, coziest bed you’ve ever slept in. It’s exactly where you want to end this long, emotional day.

Harry picks up his phone and after a minute, says, “Cars on it’s way. Let’s get some water and head outside.” You follow his lead and soon find yourself next to him in the back of a luxurious car. You’re starting to get sleepy, and without thinking about it, you rest your head on Harry’s shoulder. With your eyes now closed, you miss the warm smile that spreads across his face at the gesture. 

A little while later you arrive at his house, and he wraps an arm around you to help you inside. He briefly ducks into his room and comes back with some clothes for you to wear to bed. 

“Go get ready, I’m gonna grab a couple things and leave them in the guest room for you,” he says. 

You go to the hallway bathroom to get changed and do a cut back version of your bedtime routine. When you get to the room, Harry is there placing water, snacks, and some painkillers on the bedside table. Noticing you look at him he says, “Just in case you need anything,” as explanation. “I’ll be in my room if there’s anything else you need.”

He goes to leave but you ask, “Can you stay? For a little while, I mean. Just until I fall asleep?”

His face goes soft at the request, and he replies, “Of course, love.”

You climb into bed, surrounded by the softest blankets in the world. Harry sits on top of the covers, his hand moving to stroke your hair until you quickly fall asleep. He stays for a little bit to make sure you’re really out, then presses a barely there kiss to your head before pulling himself away and going to his own room.

The next morning you wake up feeling better than you should considering how hard you went the night before. You still eat the granola bar that Harry left and take the pain relievers, downing the rest of the water as you do so. 

You sit there and can’t help but think about all the people who would kill to be in your position. Relaxing in Harry Styles’ bed, having kissed him the night before. God, you cannot believe you and Harry had actually kissed. You’d been single mere hours and already kissed another man. 

You’re conflicted by this. You’d spent years with Aaron, thought he was the man you’re going to marry. But you have to be honest, there was always a part of you that remained attracted to Harry. You know that you probably would have left Aaron if you had any chance with Harry, and that leaves you feeling incredibly guilty. 

Picking up your phone you see a number of texts and missed calls from Mitch. Without even reading through everything you text him saying, “I’m fine, crashed at Harry’s. Can you come pick me up?”

He replies, “On my way,” almost immediately. 

You wait a few minutes before heading downstairs, knowing you’ll see Harry but now knowing what to say. You finally suck it up and leave the guest room, bumping into him almost immediately in the hallway.

“Hey. Good morning. How are you feeling?” he says.

“Good, I’m good. Thanks for looking out for me last night. It was fun.”

“Yea, it was a good night. Can I make you some breakfast?” 

“Oh, that’s okay. Mitch will be here in a couple of minutes,” you reply. 

“Got it. That’s good then.”

The two of you stand there awkwardly, more timid around each other than usual. You can only assume he’s ignoring the kiss that happened just like you are. 

Thankfully your phone dings with a message that your brother is there.

“Guess I should get going,” you say.

“Of course, I’ll let you out.”

Harry walks with you to the front door, but before he opens it he turns to you and says, “I know it’s hard to heal from a breakup, so just, you know- I’m always here for you. If you need anything.”

It’s shockingly earnest, and takes you by surprise. This man who is more busy than anyone you know, willing to help you through a broken heart. You don’t know what to say so you just wrap your arms around his neck in a quick hug. He’s barely returned the gesture when you pull away, thanking him once again and heading out the door and into your brother’s car. 

Mitch waves to Harry as you buckle your seatbelt, and once you’re ready, he starts driving. 

“So what happened last night?” he asks. 

“Nothing.” 

“Y/N.” 

“I mean, not nothing. But like, nothing to worry about. So don’t worry about it.”

“Okay well now I am worrying.”

“It’s fine!” 

Silence falls over the two of you, an awkward air permeating the car. It wears you down, and finally you break and exclaim, “Okay, fine! Harry and I kissed! But just like, a little bit. So tiny. Like, blink and you miss it. So it’s no big deal, got it?”

“Oh shit,” is his only reply.

The silence is back, and has you feeling restless. 

“Mitch?”

“Yea?”

“Are you mad?” you ask.

“What? No,” he answers immediately. “I’m not mad. But you just had your heart broken. And any relationship with Harry would be complicated, especially a rebound.”

“He’s not a rebound! I like him. It was just one kiss. That’s all. I don’t plan on going further, I swear.”

“Okay. Did you have breakfast? I can make pancakes.”

“Pancakes sound good,” you answer, once again grateful for your brother who knows exactly how to support you through anything. 

Pancakes with Mitch and Sarah are just what you need. And when you do go back to campus and tell your friends what happened, they help you even more by cursing Aaron’s name, saying they’ll make sure word gets out that he’s a cheater.

You move on from that relationship, but no one new catches your eye. You’re finishing your second to last semester at college, starting to focus on job hunting, and spending time with your brother, Harry, and the band before Fine Line’s release in December.

They’re busy of course, but take a break for the holidays before picking things back up in the new year. You’re prepared to say goodbye to them for months, so it comes as a shock when a pandemic shuts down the world and leads to you moving in with Mitch and Sarah when your dorm closes. 

After only a couple weeks Harry moves in as well. He’d been living alone in his big house and you all knew it was weighing on him. He is clearly relieved to be staying with people, and the four of you make the most of this time in lockdown. 

Since the house isn’t that big, Harry ends up sleeping on the pull out couch in the living room. This naturally leads to the two of you spending a lot of late evenings together watching movies after Mitch and Sarah have called it a night. You guys both make fun of them for becoming an old married couple, but they clearly don’t mind the teasing.

You and Harry grow even closer during this time. Since your classes have switched to online, and Harry rarely has anything scheduled, you tend to stay up late talking about anything and everything. 

May comes, the world still shut down, and you officially graduate college. Mitch, Sarah, and Harry manage to surprise you with a graduation celebration to mark the big occasion. As always, you and Harry stay up late, talking about hopes and dreams and big plans. All the things that a graduation has people thinking about.

It’s even later than usual, and you and Harry end up sliding closer and closer as the minutes tick by. Just like the time at the club, you don’t notice how close you’ve gotten until you feel Harry’s breath ghost across your skin. 

This time you do pull back, just enough to look in Harry’s eyes and confirm he wants this too. When you see the determination there, you lean in again. There’s a slight pause, just enough to build the tension, and then your lips brush. 

And then you hear a noise, jumping back a second before Sarah walks in the room. The three of you look at each other, no one speaking a word for an agonizingly long time.

“Just grabbing some water,” Sarah says as she walks to the kitchen. 

When she walks back through the living room to go upstairs you feel you need to explain and say, “We were just talking. Lost track of time.”

“I’m sure you did,” she replies with a knowing smirk before she walks away. 

The moment having passed, you say, “I should probably get to bed.”

“I guess so,” Harry answers as he tucks a strand of hair behind your ear. The gentle contact makes you blush and he says, “Good night, Y/N.”

“Good night, Harry,” you reply.

You lay in bed, thinking about how close you came to kissing once again. It was clear he wanted it, and there was no alcohol to blame this time. You’ve been single for months, you start a totally virtual job soon, and all the reasons for staying away from Harry in the past, don’t seem like reasons anymore. 

You remember years ago promising Mitch you would never ask Harry out, but now you’re determined to break that promise. Your brother will understand. You hope.

The next day Sarah invites you and Harry to join her and Mitch on a walk. You decline, saying you planned to facetime with your mom. Harry decides to stay home as well, claiming he needs to catch up on some emails he’s been putting off.

You ignore the knowing smirk that Sarah once again sends to the two of you, grateful that Mitch still seems oblivious. 

Once you and Harry are alone in the house he asks if the two of you can talk.

Seated at the kitchen table, mugs of tea in hand, Harry begins. “I don’t really know how to say this. But I feel like I should just be honest.”

He pauses, and your mind swirls with what it is he’s going to be honest about. 

He takes a large breath, exhaling loudly before saying, “I like you. Have for a while. You just- you’re one of my favorite people to hang out with, and you’re so smart, and kind, and funny, not to mention talented and so, so pretty. And if you’ll agree, I’d love to take you out on a proper date.”

You sit there, eyes wide and mouth slightly open in shock. Sure, you were just last night thinking all those things about Harry, but to find out he feels the same way as you? Even with the sweet moments and the chemistry you’ve been feeling, this admission still hits you like it came out of thin air.

Harry starts to squirm and you realize you should probably answer him. You compose yourself and manage to say, “Yes. A proper date. That sounds lovely. And, uhm, I like you too.” The end comes out at barely a whisper, but you know Harry hears it as he smiles so big both dimples appear on his cheeks. 

But then a thought occurs to you, and you ask, “How are we doing a proper date in a pandemic? We can’t go out anywhere.”

“Don’t worry about that, I have a plan,” he says with a pleased expression. 

And that, the fact that he’s obviously put thought into this, proves that he’s felt this way for a while, just like you have. 

“Then I’m looking forward to it,” you reply.

“How about tonight?” He asks.

You’re surprised by that, and he must notice because he backtracks and says, “Or we can wait a couple days. I don’t mean to rush you, I just, we’ve waited so long-”

You cut him off and say, “Tonight is perfect.” You agree, enough of waiting around. 

“Wonderful! Then it’s a date.”

“It’s a date,” you confirm. 

The two of you finish your tea in companionable silence before you get up to actually call your mom as you’d promised her. 

For the rest of the day you can’t help but wonder what Harry’s plan is. He does tell you to get a little dressy, so you spend much of the afternoon getting ready. Harry leaves for a couple hours and goes back to his house, leaving you with a very nosy Mitch and Sarah.

They know something is going on between the two of you, and keep asking questions, but you repeatedly brush them off. Truthfully you don’t have many details to give. 

When Harry gets back he’s dressed in slacks and a blouse, one of your favorite looks on him. It’s the perfect combination of casual and fancy, just enough buttons undone to tease. He’s holding a bouquet of your favorite flowers, which Sarah helps you find a vase for. While the two of you are busy with that, Mitch takes Harry aside to give the typical big brother talk. 

Finally, Harry is leading you out to the car, Mitch and Sarah watching on like proud parents. Harry continues to keep the plan a secret, so you’re curious when he pulls into the driveway of his home. He parks the car and comes to open your door like a true gentleman. 

The two of you walk through the house and out to the back patio, where you see the beautiful surprise Harry has planned for you. He’s decorated the whole area, a bottle of wine ready on the table, and he explains that dinner he’s prepared.

He pulls out your chair and helps you settle in before bringing out appetizers. All of the food is delicious, and you enjoy every minute of the meal. There's a moment as you cut your food that your left hand slips a bit, never having regained full strength after the attack your freshman year. Noticing this, Harry quickly reaches over to finish the task for you before gently reaching out to hold your hand, his thumb stroking over the scar from your surgery. He doesn’t say anything, doesn’t bring it up, but comforts you all the same. 

The rest of the meal passes without incident, and the sun sets just as you’re eating dessert. It’s perfect, and romantic, and truly is the best date you’ve ever been on. The night ends in Harry’s bed, both of you too impatient to wait any longer after years of wanting one another. 

Since you and Harry have been friends for so long, it only feels natural to slip into this new relationship status of boyfriend and girlfriend. You start spending more and more time at Harry’s house, which apparently gives Mitch and Sarah more alone time together, since at the end of summer they share the news that Sarah is pregnant. 

The next three years are the most exciting whirlwind for all of you. Mitch and Sarah get married, then have a baby just days after they all perform together for the Grammys. Love on Tour begins a few months later, and you're so excited that your remote job allows you to travel with them for every show. 

Sarah makes sure you know all of her parts, making you her backup in case something happens and she needs to miss a show. You’re confident that won’t happen, and then one night, it does. 

It’s August 2022, night 5 at Madison Square Garden in New York City. Sarah comes down with what seems to be a nasty bout of food poisoning, and you’re asked to perform for her. You sit backstage before show time, an absolute mess of nerves. But then Mitch comes and sits with you, quietly hyping you up. The two of you sit and talk about playing music together when you were kids, and soon enough your nerves switch to excitement. 

Harry asks that you stop by his dressing room before going on stage. When you stop in he wraps you in his arms, telling you how happy he is that you’ll be out there with them. Having him be so confident in you and your skills boosts your energy even more, and you can’t wait to get out there.

The show goes perfectly, and Harry gives you a special shout out during the band intros, thanking you for filling in. Hundreds, possibly thousands of cameras film the interaction, which is why it’s no surprise that people are making theories about your relationship with Harry by the next day. You’d managed to keep the fact that you’re dating a secret for two years now, but the look he gives you on stage is undeniable. The truth that Harry is dating his guitarist/best friend’s sister is out, and honestly, you’re relieved. Especially since people seem to be happy about it, and have apparently some fans even shipped the two of you together before. 

With the success of that show, Harry asks you to fill in for Sarah on the entire Australia and Asia leg of tour. She and Mitch are taking a break, focusing on other projects and giving their now two year old a break from traveling for a bit. 

Now that people know you and Harry are dating, you’re nervous that they might think you got this gig because of that. Luckily it seems most people are just saying that Harry is lucky to have found the Rowlands, since they seem to be a very talented family. And well, that’s the best compliment you could have ever hoped for. 

You now better understand the post-concert adrenaline Harry always has, and truthfully, your sex life has only benefited from this development. 

There’s a part of you that’s sad that you won’t be on stage with Harry for the last leg of tour, but that feeling fades away the second he comes out on stage in Denmark and you get to watch in amazement once again. You’re especially glad to be in the audience for Slane Castle, and Wembley, and most importantly, Italy. 

The pride you feel watching him up there is overwhelming. The years that you’ve been together have been the happiest of your life, and you feel so much love for him. 

Which is why, two days later, when he gets down on one knee and asks you to marry him, there’s no question. You immediately say yes.

While the last two years have been all about tour, the next few years are all about building your lives together. You get married in a small ceremony, just family and close friends. Watching Mitch and Sarah’s son interact with Gemma’s baby girl practically kick starts your biological clock. 

You and Harry make sure to enjoy the honeymoon phase for a while, but the desire to become parents grows more and more every day. When you decide to start trying it doesn’t happen right away, but after a few months, you excitedly call him into your room.

He finds you sitting on the edge of the bed, smiling and holding what is clearly a pregnancy test.

“Is it? Are you?” he asks.

“I’m pregnant,” you confirm and immediately he begins to cry and smile all at once, wrapping you in his arms and holding you tight.

“I love you so much,” he says before sliding to kneel on the floor. He places his hands on your hips and looks at your belly before saying, “And I love you too, little one.” It’s when he places a kiss on your stomach that you finally start to cry happy tears as well. 

Neither of you can wait to tell your families, who are ecstatic by the news as well. The biggest surprise is when you tell Mitch and Sarah, who share that Sarah is pregnant as well. Knowing that your child will grow up with cousins so close in age sends you into another bit of hormone induced happy tears.

The surprises continue when you go to your first OB appointment, and you learn that you’re having twins. And when you learn a couple months later that they’re both girls, Harry quickly settles in his role as a girl dad.

As expected, he is the best partner through all of this. He gets any craving you may have, does the hard work around the house, does anything and everything he can to help you be as comfortable as possible. He never stops telling you how beautiful you are, even when you’re six months along with two babies and feeling like a beached whale. 

You talk to Gemma and Sarah nearly every day, getting advice and reassurance from them, especially as you get closer to actually giving birth. Sarah has her baby just as you get to seven months and holding your new nephew in your arms is like a reality check that you’ll have two of these little ones in just a few weeks.

Harry continues to support you however he can, but as the weeks go by you start to admit that you’re just going to live in this discomfort until the babies are here. You just remind yourself that each day of heartburn and back pain is another day your babies get to cook inside you. 

When you do go into labor at 36 weeks, Harry remains calm and steady. His presence is grounding, and he gives you the strength to give birth to two beautiful and healthy baby girls. 

A few weeks later your house is full, both yours and Harry’s families there to visit. Some people might find it overwhelming, but in this moment, you’re simply filled with joy. You watch as Harry holds his niece, Gemma and Sarah each have one of your babies, and your parents entertain Mitch and Sarah’s sons. It’s crazy, and chaotic, and it’s like a dream you never knew you had has now come true. 

Mitch sits next to you, not saying anything, but putting an arm around your shoulders for a moment. He doesn’t need any words for you to know he’s taking it all in too. You’re grateful to have him by your side. Your big brother, your protector, and most importantly, your best friend. 

Harry hands his niece off to his mother and sits on your other side. Mitch smiles, gives you one last squeeze and goes to play with his toddler. Harry presses a kiss to your head and you sink into his side. You can’t help but feel like the luckiest person in the world to experience all this love.

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AN: Thank you so much for reading! I really loved writing this one. Side note, chose that picture because I love smiley Harry, but also, love smiley Mitch in the background.

[letsgetrowdy43]

Settling down—

Quinn Hughes x reader

Request: Can we get a Quinn getting mad at his brothers for fucking around and making his gf uncomfortable. They didn’t think he was that serious about his gf. He told them “She’s important to me”

Quinn had met her at some Canucks charity event in the early fall.

The breath was knocked right out of his lungs as he bumped into her while trying to get some fresh air, drinking up the way her silhouette looked in her floor-length gown. He was a goner. Now she sat curled up in his lap as they lounged on his boat, a soft smile on her face as he dragged his fingertips up and down the length of her spine.

Jack, Trevor, Luke, and the others were very skeptical of their relationship, she was nice, but she seemed so far from their world of hockey that to them there was no chance that she was a keeper. Plus the fact that she was an absolute smoke show, and he was just Quinn, showcased just how too good she was to be true. Quinn thought otherwise though, to anyone who wasn't blinded by idiocy, like his brothers and co., you could plainly see how he watched her with such love in his eyes.

A dopey grin grew on his face as she whispered in his ear, her fingers running through his messy hair as she placed a kiss on the high point of his cheek. Her smile grew as Quinn's lopsided smile took over his expression, "You are the prettiest, y'know that?" she mumbled into his ear as his face broke out in a flustered mess. "You're one to talk," he mused, her head leaned up against his chest, goosebumps on her skin as a gust of wind kit her bikini-covered body. "I gonna go join your mom on the beach, and get my sweater," she said getting up off of Quinn's lap, sending her boyfriend a wink as she walked to the front of the boat hopped off and onto the beach they were parked on.

Her ears perked up as she walked past Quinn's brothers and close friends, hearing her name in the jumble of their conversation. "She is just some wet dream he's living out for the summer, he's been lonely in Vancouver, it seems temporary," she knew that voice well, Jack, her brows furrowed as she dug through her bag for her sweater and shorts. "He's in a phase where he thinks he's ready to settle down, he's only twenty-three, and she's got him brainwashed!" "It doesn’t even matter, she's hot, he deserves some of the extra attention she’s been giving him," Her jaw dropped as she finally dug up her clothes, a frown on her face as she made her way over to the older woman who laid out on a lawn chair on the beach.

"Hey sweetheart," the woman said as waved the girl to sit down next to her, offering her some of the remaining white wine in her bottle, which Y/n gladly accepted, "You okay?" "Yeah, just a little drained from the sun," she grinned sadly as she took a sip of the wine out of the solo cup she was given. "Heat stroke is the worst, I won't mother you though, I'm sure Quinn will baby you the moment he gets home, just make sure to stay hydrated." "Do you think?" "He's gonna go full mother on you, you mean a lot to him, I know my son, and I can tell," she grinned at the young girl who nodded with flushed cheeks, looking over to her boyfriend who was laughing along with his friends.

Later that night after they'd arrived back at the lake house, eaten, and showered together, the couple laid in bed, her pressed up against his chest as they watched a movie on her laptop.

She turned around to look at him, her fingers brushing over the stubble on his chin as she watched his concentrated face as he watched the movie. "You're staring," he grinned as his eyes found hers. "I'm just feeling really lucky right now," she fluttered her eyes closed and hugged herself deeper into his chest. Quinn licked his lips as he tightened the arm that lay across her torso and pulled her in even closer, "I'm the lucky one," he whispered.

The conversation she overheard hours before was still lingering in the back of her mind. If his brothers and friends thought that there was no place for a future between the two of them, then what was he saying to them?

She pulled away a little to look at him again, "You see a future with us, right? cause I think it would break my heart if I was all in and you weren't," she mumbled as she watched Quinn's face break out into a look of confusion. His hand tucked her hair behind her ear so she could see him better, "Of course, I wouldn't have brought you to meet my family and let you basically live with me," he confessed as she nodded. "I'm sorry, I don't know why I was doubting this, you're just too perfect to be real" she shook her head as she took his hand and kissed his knuckles.

Quinn was still confused as to where this was coming from, and then he remembered a conversation between Trevor and him when she first arrived, one where Trevor made a comment about how he was stupid for wanting to settle down already. "Did one of the guys say something to you?" Her lips formed a straight line, deciding whether or not she wanted to out the boys for the chat she had eavesdropped.

The long pause was telling enough for Quinn, "Don't listen to them, they are all in their egotistical frat era," he laughed unbelieving of the stupidity of his brothers and friends, "they don't get it yet, but this, us, I'm certain is something that I want for the rest of my life," he confessed as he sat up beside her.

"Don't tell them I heard anything," she said sitting up next to him, "I don't want to drag this out, it's stupid." His face softened as he listened to her, knowing that this was in fact nothing, but she was willing to put it behind her to get along with his family. "I won't, but if you hear anything else like that you tell me," he wrapped his arms around her and pulled her in for a kiss, a giddy smile on her face as he pulled her into his lap, smothering her in kisses before they both laid back down.

the moment she fell asleep Quinn snuck out of bed and into the rec room where his brothers and company were drinking and playing pool.

"You guys are fucking idiots," he said with his arms crossed as all the guy's attention was averted to him, a frown on his face as Luke paused the music, "I'm so serious I have a really good thing going on with Y/n and I really like her, and you're all fucking it up" "Calm down Huggy," Trevor said as he grinned at the annoyance on the older guy's face. "No, I can't, 'cause she thinks I'm just fucking around with her feelings 'cause you idiots feel the need to openly talk about my relationship while my girlfriend is around." "We didn't know she was listening," Jack tried to reason but was shot down with a glare from his older brother. "This relationship is important to me, she is important to me, so respect that!"

With that, he left the rec room, quiet tension filling the room as Quinn made his way back up the stairs to his shared room with Y/n. Her brows furrowed as he slid back under the comforter, "where were you?" she mumbled quietly. "Just needed some water," he whispered back, the girl lifted her head and placed a sleepy kiss on his cheek before wrapping her arm around him and hugging him closer to her.

"Love you," she mumbled, half awake as her head buried itself in his arm. The words took him aback for a second, surprised that she said it, for the first time, while half conscience. "Love you too," he mumbled before closing his eyes.

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[bad268]

Daisies (Ollie Bearman X Verstappen! Reader)

Fandom: RPF/F2/F3

Requested: Day 7 of Writing Inktober prompts instead of drawing!

Warnings: Jos Verstappen mentioned, based on Daisies by Katy Perry

POV: Second Person (You/your)

W.C. 496

As always, my requests are OPEN

MASTERLIST // HITLIST

Writing Inktober 2024 Materlist

~~(^Pinterest)

It finally happened. I showed them. I could do this, and the fact that I am now one of the 20 best drivers in the world showed everyone that dreams do come true. The only person who ever believed me was Ollie.  

I was raised by my dad, who always knocked me down, saying I was out there, and I was going nowhere. According to him, I was crazy for thinking I could be in Formula 1. 

Well, walking onto the track with Ollie in Australia showed as much. Ollie in his Haas kit and me in my Aston Martin kit. Red Bull fans knew of me and how I was Max’s sibling, but what confused them was that I wasn’t in Red Bull. Why would I? Then, I would be subjected to Jos in every waking moment.

Plus, I wanted to learn from the best, and Fernando Alonso is my hero. It just worked out that Aston Martin wanted to sign me too. I had been in their junior program for years, and it only felt right to take Lance’s place after he decided to seek other opportunities.

Ollie and I walked down the pit lane hand in hand, and we knew we would have to cross the Red Bull garage. It was inevitable since Haas was in the middle of the pit lane, and Aston Martin was on the far side.

“If he says anything, we can ignore him,” Ollie comforted as he moved his arm to rest over my shoulders and pulled me closer to him, placing a kiss on my forehead. 

“If he says anything, I’ll punch him,” I said simply with a chuckle, but Ollie knew I was not kidding. He knew all of the things Jos said to me, and he would back me up if it ever came down to it. 

“Nice to see you,” Max said as he approached us. My hand tightened around Ollie’s for a second, waiting for Jos to jump out from behind Max. Thankfully, Max noticed immediately. “He’s not here. I told him not to be here for this race. You’re an incoming rookie, and the last thing you need is him finding a way to ridicule you.”

“Wait, so he’s not here? Like at all?” I asked, loosening my hold on Ollie. Max nodded, so I ran into his arms for a hug before whispering, “Thank you.”

“Anything to help make this a little easier for you,” Max comforted we hugged, “Now, go show them what Verstappen’s do.”

I just chuckled in response before going back to Ollie and continued walking down the pitlane. When we got to Haas, Ollie turned and pulled me in with him. “What are you doing? I can’t go in here.”

“Then, close your eyes,” Ollie laughed as he continued dragging me through the garage. He grabbed something, but I couldn’t see it until he told me to open them. He was holding out a bouquet of daisies.

~~~~~

© BAD268 2024. DO NOT REPOST WITHOUT PERMISSION.

[capslocked]

SERENDIPITY

male reader x kwon eunbi

18k words

Before the attraction ferments, Eunbi says, kiss me properly and pull me apart. or, Where all your little tragedies begin.

-

If you want to start getting technical, you’re Minju's plus one to the gala, and that’s already a lot, a lot, a lot to unpack.

She’d gotten whipped into a bad mood that evening before you even had your shoes on, all on account of your apparent inability to distinguish cobalt from azure, and now should anyone have the wherewithal to examine the fabric of her dress, your tie, maybe with a forensic kit, they’d discover the two are not actually matching. If there was any part of you at all inclined toward keeping up appearances, you probably wouldn’t be content with a career in radio broadcast. But here you are, surrounded by actors, actresses, idols, and everyone who thinks the cut of their jaw is just a little better than everyone else’s - the kind of people who feel entitled to time in front of a camera.

Networking, is how Minju ends up pitching it to you, and now it makes the whole thing seem a lot like work and it’s actually kind of exhausting.

It’s not even an open bar either, as she had originally advertised.

You pay - get this - you pay twenty-three dollars for a vodka tonic and it comes with so much ice you’re not totally unconvinced you could build an igloo. So when everything starts to go to shit, nearing the end of drink number one, you’re not even slurring your words. Tipsy, perhaps; just slightly. To the point you can feel it in your fingers. But nothing like a good excuse.

It’s about then that Eunbi navigates her way around the bar - unnerving, enough to make the sweat grow cold.

On account of her being fucking gorgeous, you end up watching her closely: notice first that she’s carrying a pair of heels in her hand, completely barefoot, and you have no idea what that’s about, but you end up more fixated on the fact that she slides herself into the barstool on your left - which comes across as something of an omen, given that the rest are completely unoccupied. It’s only thirty, forty minutes into the event and people are still plenty busy with that thing where they fake smiles at each other until they feel like they fit in, showing, with bare minimal effort, that they too can mingle with entertainment’s elite.

Now, you don’t actually recognize her, not right away that is. The last you’d seen her, she had her hair cut right above her shoulders and its shade was a serious degree blonder than the current iteration - now curtaining her face as she studies the drink menu and flips it over several times in her dainty hands.

After a long minute, she looks up, interrupts the bartender from polishing a piece of glassware, and orders an old fashioned, substitute brandy, leave out the orange peel, with sugar on the rim. If it’s not the usual amendments that give her away, it’s the saccharine-sweet flavor of her voice, lilting in a manner that’s instantly unmistakable.

Eunbi, you’re guessing aloud, a little apprehensive, and immediately you retreat behind the liquor in your glass. She turns to you, slowly, knuckles masking the subtle quirk in her lips at first, before letting her chin rest on the heel of her palm to reveal a flash of her signature hundred-kilowatt smile.

“Oh,” she says, and she’s blinking with clear amusement that you remember her name - as if you could ever forget it, as if these run-ins were somehow infrequent; you’d only both been plotting orbits around the same star that was Minju for the past couple years. Her head tilts, lips parting to ask, “your date ditch you already?”

She’s half-right.

“You break a heel?” you ask her, nodding toward the pair of black t-strap heels she’d tossed onto the bar counter with a defeated sigh.

“Maybe.” Eunbi drags a dark lock of hair back behind her ear. It falls almost immediately back in front of her face and it ends up staying there until the bartender places her drink in front of her. “But my question first.”

For the record, there’s nothing here particularly novel worth dwelling on. It’s always some provocation or another with Eunbi, you remember now, as she holds you with a stare, eyes wide and brilliant; she sails through life all with the confidence of someone very aware of how pretty she is - knows precisely what she can get away with, right down to the letter of the law. The dress hugging tight to her isthmus of a waist is evidence of exactly that - tighter each time you look - so if you’re waiting for her to get it wrong, don’t hold your breath.

“Minju’s having a moment,” you tell her, “it’s not like she doesn’t know where to find me.”

“Hm.” She pauses to take a careful sip of her drink, running her tongue over her bottom lip as she places the glass onto a square napkin. Folds her hands in her lap and asks, “can you explain something to me?”

“If I say no, are you going to ask anyway?”

Eunbi nods to herself, dry laugh telling you it was as rhetorical as you thought. “Seriously, how is it you two are always fighting?”

We’re not always fighting, you want to say, before Eunbi makes a face. She has this uncanny effect on you - raising an eyebrow and tilting her chin as though she were disappointed; the sharp edge to her smile, half challenge, half something far less kind. It could rip truth from the most reluctantly tight-lipped of privacies. “We’re working on it,” you tell her.

“Oh?” she asks, leaning in. 

“God, you don’t have to say it like that.” The ice clinks in your glass as you toss it back, finding it lamentably empty. “You make me feel like I have to repeat myself a thousand times - we are,” you add, “we’re working on it.”

“There’s something that keeps you together, clearly,” Eunbi says, pressing her finger to her lips before fixing you with dark eyes and an easy, charming grin. 

She has you figured out, to some extent: knows how you’ll slip up for a girl with a pretty smile, prettier eyes, all the sorts of errors you’ll start to allow when you start cataloging the curves of her body, inventorying how they taper impossibly at her waist, flaring again at her hips, her fucking chest, the way they all look under the tight fit of that damn dress-

“The make-up sex really that good, huh?”

You almost, almost choke on the ice cube you’d been sucking to keep yourself entertained.

“Optimistic to think there is any,” you admit, regretting it right away - like think about it: there’s absolutely nothing good that could possibly come of that. “That’s just how it goes.”

Eunbi looks downright triumphant. More than usual. “Oh, sweetie.”

She waves over the bartender and asks him for another whatever it was you were drinking, because she’d hate to see you go dry, and as he’s turning around she shouts over his shoulder, go ahead and make it two, actually. You don’t realize it, but you’re beginning to study her, paying really close attention to all these little details - the sparkle of the bracelet on her slender arm, how it falls a few inches off the corner of her wrist as she gets her hand back in front of her face, raking her nails through all that thick, glossy hair, black as night - you don’t know what the feeling is that rears its head as you watch her, but it’s not completely unwelcome.

“What?” she asks as her eyes flick up to yours to catch you looking at her, closely, not that you’re gawking, but she lets you off the hook like you are - just gestures to the pitiful looking heel on the counter and shrugs. “It’s not like I have anywhere to be.”

To be honest, it’s not that you lack basic foresight. In fact it’s shockingly easy to predict where this is going. Because here’s a quick behind the scenes tour on how these interactions usually play out: you’ve got your excuses, your trepidations, justifiably - the reality that you’re kind of already in a pretty high profile relationship key among them. And like clockwork, Eunbi readily finds you game for some flustering. Eunbi, who lays it on thick, comments seeped in innuendo and suggestion, whose glances linger perhaps a little long to be a fascinating coincidence. Eunbi, innocence and arrogance entwined, in the filthiest of minds. Eunbi, always with her fingers twirling her hair and wearing something just modest enough that makes it feel like it’s your fault for noticing that her figure is impeccable. You’ve not actually gathered much from your brief conversations other than that she likes to flirt with you, likes it even more when you’ve got your foot in your mouth, and instead of putting you out of your misery, keeps you suspended there, egging you on - this all beyond the fact that you’ve only really managed to learn the many different ways you want to undress Kwon Eunbi.

You want her pressed up against the wall of your apartment, among other places, one of those pleated skirts crumpling to a pile around her knees as she keens for you, and your hand busy sliding up between her thighs.

You want to listen to her sighs as you unfasten each of the white buttons on one of those collared shirts that stretches and aches to keep her chest concealed, how she’d hum in delight as you trail kisses down each new inch of soft pale skin that all would unveil. 

You want her in your lap when you fiddle with the latch of her bra until her tits spill out of its lacy fabric (it’s always lacy in your head), and she’s got you gasping for air, smothered, asphyxiated, dying, ascending, it’s all so, so great in theory.

It’s just that - some way or another - Eunbi looks at you like she knows all of that. You’ve been skirting around the issue for months.

“Tell me,” she starts, and suddenly, without warning, she has you under the microscope, reeling you further into the conversation, pulling at loose threads - where is Minju right now, are you still living together, does she help with chores, can you trust her, does she trust you - she grabs a handful of pretzels and watches you intently as you try and remain unruffled, diplomatic - are you generally happy with how things are going, when was the last time you had sex - you’re blindsided by that last one, or something, but that’s out there now, in the open.

“Uh.” Eunbi purses her lips. “You’re kidding.”

You just shrug.

“How long has it been now between you two? Like officially."

“I’m surprised you don’t already know.”

“Alright.” Eunbi clicks her tongue. “Don’t flatter yourself.”

“My fourth year of university, her first,” you explain. Though never before have you felt as crooked about admitting that as you do at this moment. Others had often appreciated something about the impudence of it, but you’re doubting Eunbi’s going to be one of those people.

“Young,” Eunbi states, matter-of-factly. The look on her face says she’s thinking.

“Not that young.”

“You’re twenty-seven.”

“Twenty-five.”

“You’re-” Eunbi’s eyebrow’s knit together like she’s trying to remember something. “Wait, really?”

“Does that bother you?”

“Why would that bother me?”

You’re realizing that she’d gotten closer to you, only now pulling her stool along the floor to catch up with her, and she’d started whispering into the waning space between you as though there was anyone else in the bar you’d need to shield the contents of this conversation from. “It just seems like not a lot of time to get to know yourself. If I were you, I’d be relieved.”

You can’t fucking stop looking at her mouth, glossed pink lips, cupid’s bow and all that between her dimples; your voice comes out oddly thick. “You’re not me.”

“No,” Eunbi says, shaking her head, “I'm not. Here you are, in some miserable relationship to score good karma - I’m having way more fun.”

“Easy,” you warn her, and it comes across just antagonistic enough to let Eunbi know she’s pushing the right buttons, digging in the right place; god only knows what she’ll find.

“Really.” Her fingers start skimming the bottom of your tie, like it’s nothing at all. Like she doesn’t know what might happen if she starts touching you. “Let me guess,” she continues, “A real break-up is too  inconvenient or something right now, Minju doesn’t want the bad press, not when her career is still this fragile, because let’s face it-”

“It’s complicated.”

Eunbi smirks, not bothering to hold it back this time. The way she sees it, your usual excuses are losing their efficacy, quickly: you might not be single, but that doesn’t mean you aren’t thinking about how good she looks in that tiny fucking excuse of a dress, how you’re hoping she might need to run off to the restroom later so you can see how her ass fills out the back of it, how it might look even better on the floor next to your bed - that you’re only a breath away, looking for pretext, perhaps just a little encouragement -

She rests her elbow on the counter, leans a cheek onto her fist, and angles herself against the bar so that the intoxicatingly low dip of her neckline is staring you right in the face, soft cleavage out on full fucking display. It’s not subtle. You never thought too hard about why Minju never invited Eunbi over. You’ll never need to.

“But - but I mean, I guess that’s the gist of it,” you feel inclined to add, stumbling a bit, figuring that if you steal away into the safety of your one true talent - talking - you might just resist the very present urge to reach forward and press your lips to hers. 

“You’re an accessory,” says Eunbi, unbothered, and her eyes take a lazy sweep from your face down to your waist. It’s a leer. “Though,” she murmurs, “can’t really say I can blame the girl.”

“First off, rude.” You’ve got a finger pointed to the ceiling when you say it. “Secondly-”

“Too nice for your own good, you know that?” Eunbi takes a sip from her glass, and after fixing a dark, stubborn strand of hair back behind her ear, she finds herself again in that anxious distance inches away from your nose. “Why don’t you have some fun with it?”

“Fun with what?”

“Just because you figure you’re going to go crawling back to her doesn’t mean you can’t take advantage of your-” she stops, eyes fixing to your lips before continuing, “situation.”

“Can I mention something to you?” You swallow once, twice. Now you’re both looking at each other’s mouths, breathing the same air. “You have a pretty fucked up perspective on interpersonal relationships.”

“What’s something you’ve always wanted to do?” she asks, completely ignoring the assessment. Her fingernails skate along the counter until she’s pinching at the cuff of your sleeve, and her hair falls back in front of her face again, though this time she looks into your eyes like she’s waiting for you to move it out of the way.

“What are we doing right now?” you ask, agitation just beginning to rear its head. “What are you asking me?”

“I’m bored, and you’re the only other person here.”

“There’s, like, a million people here.”

“I mean right here,” she says, nodding to the broken heel on the counter and gesturing between your chests. “Besides, I like you.”

You really could surge up and kiss her, you realize. Her lips are so close, right there in front of you, and there’s not any sort of question of whether she’d let you. The part that scares you is you haven’t a fucking clue what you’d say when the moment comes to finally pull your mouth off hers, and that’s not something you’re usually trying to sort out. Nor are you really in a blathering mood, and now you’re imagining it: Eunbi’s expression all smug and haughty, something that could inspire a good blather - uh, did you just kiss me?

“Forgive me, but I feel like I need to point out,” Eunbi adds, mildly entertained, “most guys wouldn’t be asking this many questions.”

“I’m not most guys.”

“Uh, I am fully aware,” Eunbi says, running a fingertip along the length of her collarbone, slowly, and her voice dips out if its usual airy register into something less musical, more serious: “Do you even have a clue what I’d do for a guy like you?”

“Eunbi,” you say, harshly, not that it matters; she’s going to tell you.

“For starters,” she says, and her hand is around your tie, tugging like you won’t tell her to stop, like she knows she’s gorgeous in all the most disarming ways. “I’d take good care of him, like I don’t think I could keep my hands off him. I’d be blowing him all the time - until my jaw hurt, then i’d just tell him to pick a hole and fuck a big, hot load of cum into it - hell, I’d probably let him do anything to me.”

“Tactful.”

“I’m not the one having a hard time reading between the lines.”

“That’s not - I’m not-”

“Into me?” Eunbi laughs, leaning forward, your last vestiges of personal space vanishing like a passing thought, and now she’s touching you - a hand on your thigh, higher, higher. “You want to fuck me so bad.”

The fucked up thing, beyond Eunbi being absolutely right, is that you’d rather die than try and lie through your teeth, than succumb in such austere fashion. This thing, this desire, this want, you understand it so intimately you could probably name it like you were christening it in a church. You grab a hold of her wrist, before her precocious fingers can discover how obviously right she is under the seam of your pants, and the suddenness of the challenge wipes the mirth from her face - pulls a small little sound out of her chest, leaves her eyes wide and uncharacteristically docile.

“Are you sure?” you ask, collected and calm, after you’ve both realized how small her wrist fits in your hand. “Is this really the game you want to play?” 

Eunbi’s head tips onto this angle, expression perfectly cavalier. “Oh,” she says, uncorking an impious grin, “why don’t you and I go figure that out.”

-

It’s hard to focus. You’ve got it all wrong, or whatever, practically right from the jump. Your first mistake was veering toward the restrooms tucked behind the bar, where Eunbi pulled at the corner of your sleeve to shoot you a skeptical look - are you fucking nuts, there’s single occupant washrooms upstairs - her explanation was sound, probably, she lost you quickly at: “would prefer no one hear me cum all over your cock.”

The second transgression is the kiss itself, a fucking honest mess. 

Eunbi’s perched on the sink, precariously, and as much as you’d rather be smoothing your hands up her curves, you’ve got one preoccupied at her hips, steadying her, the other pulling at your own clothes, slinging your jacket to the floor. It’s this sort of callow tangle of limbs, exchange of spit, imprecise groping - fuck, it actually hurts when your teeth bump together, or when Eunbi pulls a little too hard at your bottom lip - over and over, and your mouths keep missing each other, straying off to cheeks and chins. 

You expected there to be a touch more polish to her, for her to be the kind of girl above hooking up barefoot in a public restroom, maybe even preserve any of that infamous intrigue. But those open-mouthed kisses she has leaving marks on your jaw, making welts on your neck do little to help you shrug off the impropriety here, hanging like a sorry cloud. Because you’re barreling toward something desperate and clumsy and hot and needy - so utterly raunchy in all the right ways.

“C’mere,” Eunbi says, smile stretching soft and devastatingly sweet, hardly fussing when you slip your hand beneath her jaw - it takes a moment, a touch of experimentation, until you’re together working toward a common goal. She twists the end of your tie over her wrist once, twice, anchors herself against you, and her legs open wider, a heel hooking around your thigh. The embers in her half-lidded eyes tell a story, tell you you to firm up your grip, clutch her, get rough with her, toss her around - she can take it, she can take more. 

Her chin gets set on the angle opposite yours as she starts to pull you in close, the heat in her breath coming closer, and she furrows a perfectly sculpted brow the moment she realizes it’s not reciprocal - that you’re not leaning into her, not pressing your tongue past her lips and grabbing her hair by the fistful - she squints, glowering. It’s actually not a bad look on her.

“Tell me something,” you say, skating your fingertips up her leg until they’re so close to the apex of her thigh you can feel her heat, radiating. “What were you expecting?”

“I try to never expect anything,” Eunbi tells you, and starts once more for your lips, only vexed again when you stiffen up, maintain the distance between you - stop her short at the limit of tantalizingly close.

“Eunbi,” you say, wry with dry laughter and peeking over her shoulder to the reflection in the mirror - backless; you can see the ridge of her spine from her ass all the way up to her neck when you slide her hair to the side. “This is not a dress you wear out with colleagues and friends. This is a take me home and have your wicked way with me kind of dress.”

Eunbi swallows; that’s how you know you caught her. “If the insinuation here is that I’m a slut, I’m not having any of it.”

“Why? Is that supposed to be some sort of secret?”

Her expression falls onto something rather unamused, a glib reply waiting for release at the tip of her tongue, until finally she says, “do you get off on being withholding or some other bull-”

The word vanishes in a sharp inhale the moment you press your hand up between her legs. 

“Oh god.” Eunbi’s entire body shudders, nerves bundled and tight and ready to fire at the slightest excitation. Honestly, you’re not even doing anything; you’re pushing fabric into her cunt, and fuck, Eunbi’s already this trigger-happy. The demanding, quick-tempered vixen with something to prove, and she’s already melting over the slightest touch. 

Hell, just listen in on those little stuttering breaths falling off her lips when you begin to circle your fingers, slowly, when you reach down further to where she’s so hot, so wet-

You press down and she hiccups.

“Ah, I think I get it now,” you start, watching Eunbi’s lip wobble as the heel of your palm spreads flatter and flatter over her clit, pressure indiscriminate and nowhere close to absolving. “You want me to believe that somehow, you’re a total romantic.”

Eunbi’s mouth slacks slightly as she sighs. “Aren’t we all entitled to a little fantasy?”

“Has the part where I fuck you senseless in a public restroom always worked into that?” you ask, digging deeper, drenching her underwear in her own slick. “Or is that a new development?”

“You’re really testing the limits of your charm here.”

“I dunno. I think the fact that you’re dripping down your thighs means I’m doing all right,” you say, holding onto a smirk that you’re half-sure she’s contemplating slapping off your face.

“What do you want?” she asks, shimmying her hips against you, voice softening into delicate capitulation. “Want me to tell you that I’ve been dreaming about it? Want to know that I think about you when I’m alone - when I’ve got my fingers inside me and I’m sobbing into a pillow - that I’m picturing you fucking railing Minju - picturing how your hands would feel at my waist, on my tits, around my neck - imagining just how good you’d fuck me?”

You nearly snort in amusement. “Oh, want a lot more than that.” 

“Then hurry up,” she says - before the attraction ferments. And she sighs musingly when you press your fingers past elastic, find a touch where she needs you, the unmistakable shiver of real contact. “Kiss me properly and pull me apart.”

You tilt Eunbi’s chin up and place your mouth on hers. Kissing her once, twice, until she realizes it’s not even close to enough, drawing in to kiss you back that much harder, all unknowing and candid - like she never once cared for subtlety in her methods of seduction.

Almost absentmindedly, your fingers had already danced over her entrance, rubbed and touched and felt and begun to push. And god, she’s so incredibly wet - not that the push isn’t slow, so unhurried you can feel Eunbi wanting to cry out in frustration as you get deeper, feel her squeeze onto you, just a knuckle inside her, then a second. She barely manages to hush out a complaint into your lips when you drag them back, returning the perfect roughness in your fingers to her clit and applying all this agonizingly-too-gentle pressure. Do anything, she said - said she’d let you; could’ve said, fuck me, ruin me; should’ve told you, no idea what I really want other than for you fuck my brains out, so please take off your clothes and help me figure it out -

It’s actually kind of adorable, that she has to break her lips away from yours to ask for more.

But only a loud, smacking kiss and the length of a heavy exhale later, Eunbi’s tongue slides into your mouth, slipping gently against yours, and flicks up at your teeth as you press the curl of your index finger back inside her. She cries gently, this pitchy little feminine sound, just when you fuck her open with another. You could take all the time you want, you reckon, just pretend Eunbi’s not already all wound up and needy - pussy soaked and hot and begging beneath loose fabric - pretend she isn’t wrapping her slender fingers around your wrist to hold you firm, keep your fingertips present and reliable: something she can buck her hips into, something she can fuck until she’s gasping for you to stop.

“Fuck.” Her moan hums right into your mouth, thin, stretching out on a broken breath as the pad of your thumb skates over her clit, again, again, lighter, barely a touch this time, gentle and tender, and, well, conflicting - because look, everything about this is such a fucking awful idea - you’re going to walk out into a sea of judgement with kiss-swollen lips, hair disheveled and bothered like you’d trekked through a windstorm, with Eunbi hanging on your waist, knees wobbling and perfectly complicit to the crime. 

You’ve given the thought barely a moment’s attention when Eunbi’s grip on your wrist goes white-knuckle tight, like she can taste the apprehension on your lips. She tugs on your tie, hard - don’t stop, come, closer - like she’d literally die if you stop fucking her with your fingers.

“Fuck, you’re so wet for me,” you say in the spaces between these stinging, deep kisses into her cheek, her jaw, letting her body slump forward when you let go of her waist and start sliding your hand up her flat stomach, scrunching and furling the material of her dress up around her hips. She totters a moment, feet barely reaching the floor how you have her balanced on the lip of the sink, but you can’t help it: you need to get a hand up, higher, over her ribs, onto her chest -

Eunbi gasps the moment your fingers sink in, loudly, and you’re not even going to try and give her an explanation - fucking christ, her tits are incredible.

“How messy,” you tell her, enjoying how it makes her cheeks start to burn red, and with just that, you’re sure, with fingers becoming fast and frenzied. It’s audible, the slick on your hand, working through the thick of her heat, the tension in her clench. “So fucking messy, I bet you’re close baby, so close - close to cumming on my fingers.”

She purses her lips, chin tucked into where her collarbones meet, and closes her eyes. You think she’s readying some riposte, some quip to needle, something she’d lid her eyes and smirk first to tell you with poison laced in her voice, seethed in sarcasm, in spite. 

“I mean, Eunbi, look at you,” you drawl huskily, an effort to lure the words out of her, “and I haven’t even gotten my mouth on you yet.”

Her whole body sighs, a concerted effort; she’s panting, sinking her teeth into her lip, and it happens so suddenly, near all at once - those elegant lines in her face starting to twist, betraying that usual sculpted visage of perfection - at the end of a squalling stretch for air, she starts to beg. 

“Please,” she mewls, escaping her lips pliant and meek.

And fuck if that’s anything like the bite you’ve come to expect, the serrated edge of the girl who was amusing herself just moments ago with how you rattled and ruffled from behind a glass of liquor - Eunbi, all cunning and guile - jesus, it’s not even close:

“Oh, god, do it, do it, use my pussy however you want, fuck, want it so bad-” Her hair is falling into her face. Skin getting hot and dewy with sweat. She told you earlier that she’d kill you if you ripped her dress, said you had the look of a dress ripper about you - and now she’s looking at you like she might kill you if you don’t. “-anything, I’ll do anything, gods, please just let me cum.”

“Baby,” you murmur against her neck, a pet name you’re slipping into a little too easily. The possession, the way you say mine, you promise it’s all instinct. “Who could’ve ever guessed you’d be this needy?”

The pale column of skin beneath her jaw reveals more of itself to you the faster you drag your fingers through her cunt. She’s recovering from a curl of your digits against that spot that might just be able to get her screaming, and then it’s your thumb: each circle around her swollen clit reducing her to little more than ragged breathing and that causeway of a word, pleading, please, please, please.

You’d spent more time fantasizing about this than you care to admit, though when you tug the neckline of her dress down, free her breast from beneath the tight fabric, roll your thumb over her nipple, and pinch, it’s clear this is nothing like you imagined. It’s so much fucking more: her face winding into a look of equal parts pain, pleasure, eyes scrunching, lips hanging open - she can’t even say anything when you pull harder on the dress, pull her other tit up to your mouth and start to suck, hard - a heavy moan, whining; she doesn’t tell you to stop.

“Do it,” she demands, gulping for her next breath. “I’m so close.”

You haven’t written it off yet, but you also haven’t the slightest idea how she’ll come back from this one, flirting with the boundary at desperate and pathetic, responding to your touch, your fingers, your mouth like you’d spent a lifetime studying what makes her tick. This might be the only time between you that you’ve ever stumbled this close to anything like an upperhand, you recognize, and you’re not going to pass up an opportunity like it, milking it for all it’s worth:

“You ever have someone do this to you, Eunbi?” you ask her when your lips break all that cruel suction around her nipple - it’s red, swollen, aching, and it’s a great start. The throb between her legs isn’t growing any less urgent either, pulsing vigorously onto your fingertips and leaking all over your hand, her thighs, it’s so fucking sloppy and hot and that perfectly submissive expression on her face just looks so, so good on her. (You’re really leaning into it.) “Fuck you with one of your dresses bunched up over your hips? Take you into a bathroom and get you moaning and panting until you admit you’re a total slut? Fuck, I could do this until you can’t remember your own name, pull your underwear back up your legs all soaking and messy-”

“No,” Eunbi says, exasperated, and she chokes on her voice when your thumb digs harder into the puffy lips of her cunt, pushes this exact pressure on her tender clit. You don’t think her eyes could get any clearer, needier, until she starts shaking her head, saying, “you - you’d be the first.”

She practically blue-screens after that, words getting lost somewhere in the pangs of her own agitated pleasure. And like putty, sinking backward into the counter, you spread her legs open wider. Press a kiss into her forehead, skin all hot and sweaty. She almost loses it right then and there when you start reminding her she’s gorgeous, how good her name sounds on your lips, so pretty when she cums like this and then- 

Oh.

There she goes. 

“Fuck, you’re - god, fuck, I’m - fuck.” Eunbi hisses out your name, panting for air, and her brittle words fall straight to the floor, smash against the tile, and shatter into a million pieces. Cumming, she adds, two or three times for good measure, and you hold her firm, hold her still. Keep her from sliding off the sink so you might even kiss her hard. Feel her come undone.

Maybe it’s the praise; more likely the tempo of your thumb tapping against her swollen bud, again, again. The only thing you know is that the sound of it alone - over the squelch of your fingers fucking her through it, slow and tender like you have all the time in the world - see, that’s a masterpiece in and of itself. 

Eunbi’s chest rolls and twitches as you draw your fingers out of her pussy, soaked, clenching at nothing, and drag them up along her waist so she can feel just how much damage you’ve caused, that for all her sloppiness, it’s because of you.

“Here,” you say to her, with two sticky fingers at her jaw, “I know you want to taste yourself.”

Beyond the visual in front of you, you’re kind of stuck on how impetuous, impulsive, how utterly lewd it all is - opening her mouth and fitting your fingertips between her teeth. You scissor your fingers, let her lick her own slick off your you, and when you press her tongue down behind her teeth she starts to suck. It’s delightful, you think, she’s so gorgeous and somehow, flushed and fucked and sweaty, she looks perfect. Never been so stunning.

“Such a good girl,” you tell her, almost maliciously.

And it’s instant - Eunbi sinking further into the counter, her shoulders slumped to the cold mirror, knuckles knocking the bowl of the sink. There’s a hum coming up from her throat when you say it again, getting stuck on your fingers until she spits them out and looks at you with wide, tear-filled eyes, all glassy and brilliant, like you know the answers to all the riddles of the universe. Okay, so maybe it really is the praise, you realize, a weakness, a loose thread, you might never be able to stop yourself from pulling at it. You’d never want to.

“Been so patient, haven’t you? Your pussy is fucking creaming for me Eunbi, so fucking messy, you poor thing.” You’re lifting her panties to the side, assuring her in half sentences and leaving the rest to the sound of your zipper coming undone. “Gonna fuck you now, get my cock in this pretty little pussy of yours, don’t worry, I’ll take good care of you baby, just be still and hold on for me-”

“God.” Eunbi startles at the touch of your cock running over her slick, and she starts blinking back into reality, legs bracketing around your hips. Do it - she’s gathering an angry fistful of shirt, pulling at your tie, clamoring for you, all desperation, no composure, as if your mistakes were made for her - do it, do it, and she breathes your name against your mouth, lips trembling, “please.”

Days, weeks, months maybe, the conclusion’s long foregone, inevitable: your cock sinks straight into her cunt.

Jesus. Fuck. Where to start? Eunbi’s eyebrows twist, lips part - with just a wicked, sharp breath of air, she immediately comes undone. So, that might be as good a place as any.

You know by the way she melts, the way her body is coiling tighter around you, clinging to you like you might be able to hold it all together - like you’re not fucking her open, pressing deeper inside her, hotter around you with every passing inch.  

“I cannot believe,” Eunbi starts, voice shredded, and the rest of it is so incoherent, so blathering and baleful, that you’re altogether unsure if it’s in protest of you ruining her cunt, or if you’re not ruining it enough. Even though she’s so unbelievably wet, she’s every bit as tight, and you end up prompting this unattractive groan from her throat when you motion your hips forward, just a fraction, before pulling back again. “Oh my-”

You’re trying not to laugh but it’s slipping out quietly, and Eunbi just glares at you, the vibrations from your diaphragm going straight between her legs, where she’s still throbbing and unduly sensitive. A few disheveled strands of her hair end up in your mouth as she fidgets about in your grip. A few more as you ease in further - until your balls are flush against her ass and Eunbi has both ankles hooked around your thighs. Beyond the sweltering heat of Eunbi’s cunt, you’ve got thoughts, photographically vivid, racing through your head: you lifting her small body up, getting your hands under her thighs and pounding her without remorse - turning her over and bending her over her sink, watching her tits bounce in the mirror, face wracked as she cums like that, and you’ll get there - just that right now, seating yourself in her pussy and nuzzling your face into the crook of her neck is more than plenty to hone in on.

“Fuck, your cock, it’s-” Eunbi sputters, and it takes a beat to even realize you’re completely inside her, right to the hilt.

And you aren’t making any more sense of how she trembles than of the fusillade of curses tossed in your general direction. Her legs remain locked behind you, holding you motionless - making it difficult to not laugh at her inanity on display, squirming graceless beneath you.

Incredible, is the conclusion you both come to as her cheeks flood again with color, and you start circling your hips into her, moving as much as the confines of her legs - the inelegant entrapment - might allow.

It’s almost cruel: Eunbi gasps when you end up brushing against her tender clit, and you pause, thinking- 

(Like this, half naked, dress bundled around her waist, you can take whatever you want. Every now and again you look up and see your reflection, see yourself towering over Eunbi’s lithe frame - oh, the options - they’re nearly endless.)

-she simply growls at you when you inch her hips forward from where they’re perched and do it again.

“I can’t fuck you unless you let go,” you tell her, ducking down and finding her breast with your mouth. 

“If I let go,” Eunbi starts, and her voice is jagged with strain, breath steadying, “are you actually going to fuck me, or are you just going to keep teasing?”

“Oh, Eunbi, believe me.” You’re kissing up her chest, her collarbones, pressing your lips sweetly to the hollow of her throat. “I’m going to fuck you until you’re screaming, promise.”

Eunbi holds her gaze to yours, tips up her chin, and says, half daring, “I’m holding you to that,” and as her bind loosens, she tugs your face towards hers by the bottom of your tie. Hard - it’s hardly even a murmur as she leans in, pressing your brow to hers - harder. A rhythm emerges in your hips against hers, though it only complicates the demands: more, please, need it, don’t stop.

But the drag of it is amazing, your cock gliding through the wet heat of her cunt - squeezed tight onto you and fitting you like a glove. So tight, as if she’d been made for you, incomparably coiled around you, and it’s even more perfect as you start to truly fuck into her. Fast and deep and assuring you’d stay true to your word, that you’d get her fucking screaming with it. Each time you pull back and slam into her again, hard enough that she shifts half an inch toward the mirror, you’re listening to that wounded noise, keening out of her chest, punctuated by the way she shudders, bracing against you.

“God,” you rasp through gritted teeth, stealing a delighted moan as she spreads her legs wider for you, stealing several more. “This pussy, fuck, is incredible, Eunbi” - she’s so wet and turned on that you just fucking rail her, that she lets you, that she loves it, to the point where you’re reminding yourself to breathe - “what a good little cocksleeve you are, you’re so fucking wet.”

“Better?” Eunbi is struggling to stay upright, jaw slacked and slumping against the mirror like a puppet cut from its strings. “Better than her, right?”

“Hm,” you say, and the hesitation alone is enough for the corner of her mouth to pull up into a tiny smile. Something she knows she can hook into, something she can work with. “We’ll just have to see.”

There are tears visible at the end , and her words are quickly becoming slurred and mixed up as your fingers turn threats into reality, bruises at her waist, her thighs, her tits, her neck - you’re marking her like she’s yours, like it isn’t dangerous, like it doesn’t spell trouble for both of you. So when she musters the strength to perk up, look you straight on while you pound her cunt recklessly, and meekly say, “be honest,” it’s far too impossible to deny her anything.

“The best, Eunbi,” you start. She doesn’t know where the lip service starts, where it ends, but just hearing you mutter out her name is enough to get her swooning.

It’s not that you don’t understand the irony, that Minju is downstairs somewhere telling a hundred people she doesn’t know where you are, looking pretty and put together, and you’re saving your honesty for this girl, breaking her further to pieces with each thrust her into tight, sweaty body, each stroke into her sloppy, aching hole. You do understand it, and when Eunbi starts whining, sobbing, moaning, you just can’t be bothered to care. “So perfect on my cock, baby, now be good for me - show me how perfect this pretty little cunt is, want you to cum again for me, want to see what a mess you can be, Eunbi.”

You end up with a hand underneath her, the other in the lose waves of hair behind her head, fingers splaying out against the base of her skull, and - fuck, the new angle you settle into when you pull her tiny body up onto your cock, not to mention the depth - it’s wanton, lustful, it’s thoughtless: you’re fucking her so hard and fast that all she can do is throw is her arms around your shoulders and weave curses into her ragged breathing, thinning, threadbare, “oh fuck, oh, jesus, fuck yes, there, your fucking cock, just like that, fucking christ.”

She barely even has one foot on the ground, toes dangling onto the tile, you realize after you finish chastising her dirty mouth. Completely at your beck and call.

Not that it was ever going to make a difference. You fuck her harder, until she’s shaking with it, until she’s crying out, embarrassment long forgotten. She’s so fucked, breathy moans turning to screams, to whimpers, seams cracking into fissures - you’re not hurting her, but fuck if that isn’t the boundary you’re daring to cross. You bottom out in her pussy, over and over; you’re destroying it, ruining it, and she’s clinging to you like wet clothes, like it might soothe her, like her life depends on it.

Eunbi moans when you draw your hips back and nearly leave the perfect heat of her cunt. And when you bury yourself back into her, she writhes.

You look up from the shadowy spot where your cock is disappearing between her legs, and her eyes are flaring again, teeth sinking into her lip as you seek out her chest and start playing with her tits. There, she wants to say, eyelids hooded and voice purring, that’s more like it. But your thumb flicks at her nipple, pert and pointy, coaxing out a quieter reaction - quiet beneath the haggard recoil her body makes in order to sheathe your cock, the gentle tremor at the end of each thrust, stomach muscles contracting under your hand. It’s too much. She only closes her mouth. Lets it fall open again. Sighs.

“You’re going to cum again, aren’t you?” you ask, breath landing hot against her face, agitating the flush in her cheekbones. “You’re going to cum all over this cock.” It’s in those eyes; she’s so incredibly close, but Eunbi holds fast to what shred of dignity hasn’t since vanished out of sight, throat working hard to swallow, and she shakes her head, I can’t, I can’t, I can’t.

In fact, she’s murmuring nonsensically at you, and for a moment you see a hand on her neck, thumbprint searing into her throat, but the image fades as she moans again, hips jumping, palm slapping the sink. It’s the want, the need, for everything you have to give her, want for you inside her, maybe forever more - and want and want for anything that might release her pleasured agony. It’s fucking filthy.

So bend, you tell her, don’t break.

(You’ve never fucked anyone like this either, you think, not Minju, not anyone - fingers skating up the ridge of her back, face buried in the hair falling over her shoulder, taking careful note of how you’re taking Eunbi apart. 

How you might ever put her back together.)

“Shit,” she cries out sharply, spine arched and straining against you as - fucking finally - her orgasm rips through her. You’re watching carefully as you fuck into her quivering pussy, listening mostly, once the pressure starts to build behind your eyes. There’s your name torn from her lips (oh god), and how she starts to tremble (oh god), trying to draw you (oh god) deeper inside her while she (oh my fucking god) lets it flood through her.  

It’s a lot to take in. Near impossible to focus on any one thing. For fuck’s sake, even the smell of it is divine, of perfume and sex and vanilla and sin.

You’re grabbing Eunbi’s waist again, so hard she yelps, lips parting, struggling for breath every time you fuck her tight little pussy onto you, but she can’t quite say anything. Not yet. Your cock is still too hard, throbbing madly inside her, and she’s near the point of simply collapsing. 

You touch her mouth, tip it gently closed. And the docile way she looks up at you is a reminder that you had readied a quip, something about the mess between her legs, that she’s flustering and incoherent and sobbing and how it’s so unlike her. But it’s gone now. Lost to the lust and need crackling in your own brain, you figure. You’d been daydreaming a mile a minute about fucking Eunbi on a good day, and now you’re seeing her here, like this.

It takes the velvety drag through her cunt, once, twice, you’re pounding her so fast, not even trying to hold on, shortening your breath, biting your cheek, counting out the strokes - three, four, five -“Come on,” Eunbi manages in the spaces between her soft, bitten back moans, “do it, wanna feel that big cock fuck a creampie deep inside me, wanna feel your hot cum leak out of me.”

You really could. Because she feels fucking unbelievable, and now you’re imagining it: getting reckless and stupid and filling her perfect little pussy with all your cum; risk it, get her pregnant, you tell yourself, fuck it deep enough inside her to make it a certainty - the mental image alone is enough to send you over the edge. You’re sure of that. It has before.

“Eunbi,” you stammer, “this pussy feels… I’m gonna-”

“I know,” she murmurs, “I know.” Her eyes are glassy, mouth cocked back, half-smiling. “Do whatever you want.” Five foot nothing of immaculate pulchritude and irresistible peril, she looks pristine on the end of your cock, tits in your hands, brow sweating, mouth opening, telling you to cum, to do it, want you to cum, just fucking use her.

“Fuck,” you spit, slipping your cock out of her at the last moment - fucking into your fist - cumming. Messily. Explosively. Eunbi still choking for air in fits and starts, your other hand still wringing her waist.

Though it can’t be more than a few seconds, the difference between you releasing that load inside her and the way it instead winds up everywhere else: in her panties, against the swollen lips of her pussy, the crease of her thigh - how some leaks and spills down her leg, onto the floor beneath the sink. There’s a dress ruiner in you after all. “God,” you add, fighting exhaustion, and Eunbi simply crumples against you, kissing you like you’ve never been kissed before - a long, smooth slide of her lips that leaves you both gasping in its wake.

“So.” Eunbi’s hand is between her legs, assessing the damages, accounting the cum all over her and soaking through the fabric of her underwear. She just raises an eyebrow at you, charming, challenging. “You came all over me.”

“What, you really think I’d cum in you?”

Her eyes squint, and her nose scrunches. It’s winsome, in a way. 

Sure, she’s kind of a disaster - the once-carefully-styled waves of her hair are in tatters, makeup running in every direction, tits hanging out of her bra and spilling over the top of her dress, still barefoot and completely unfazed by it. Dismantled is a good look for her, even if she doesn’t appreciate it: reaching into her purse, this emergency kit of wipes, a mascara brush, lipstick. Raring to do a little triage.

“Yeah,” you insist, “you’re out of your mind.”

The droll laugh she gives you when you finally let her go is not antagonistic either, but as with a lot of those things Eunbi does, the click of her tongue, the haughty expressions, the mannerisms, they were all becoming less threatening and more fetching - possibly more now that you’ve seen the face she makes when she cums.

“I think it’s just force of habit.” Having slid from the sink and onto the floor, Eunbi pitches up on her feet to kiss you again, and you don’t try to fight it any more than if she had beaten you in some sporting game and extended her hand to shake yours. When she pulls her lips off you, she adds, “which, you know, serendipitous and all that.”

“Thanks for the ten-dollar-word.”

“Lucky,” she reiterates.

“I know what it means.”

“If I had to guess… Minju doesn’t let you, does she?” And it becomes immediately apparent to you what Eunbi’s playing at. She’s got her teeth sinking into the long game, anticipating that you'll cross your arms, tell her never again: that thing at the gala, the kissing - we can't.

“Can you stop.”

“Does she?”

“Um,” you say, considering carefully for a moment which half-truths you want to tell, which ones you already have. “No, she does.”

Eunbi shifts her body a little, toward you, but not quite close enough to touch you - she’s bending slightly at the waist to scoop her tits back into her bra, her dress. The corner of her lip quirks further, and she asks, completely unrepentant, “does she let you cum in her ass?”

Your throat clicks, swallowing - you can’t even imagine it well enough to begin to know how to lie about it; bashful, everything obvious and on display - so, yeah, you are kind of fucked.

-

“Your shirt isn’t buttoned right by the way.”

“Here,” you say, still stuffing fabric back into your pants, “stand in front of me in case someone we know happens to come around.”

Eunbi crowds you to the wall, almost too aggressively, and she watches a staff member of the venue walk by carrying a platter full of shrimp tails and used napkins. “You’ve got cum on your pants too.”

“One crisis at a time, okay.”

“What are you going to tell Minju?”

“Nothing.”

“I mean… what is your approach, like when we get over there and-” Eunbi takes a step forward, fitting so perfectly beneath your chin, looking up like she’d discovered something worth marveling at. “Oh my god.” She laughs out loud. “How did I get a hickey under there?”

With just one finger returning to her waist, far gentler than the last time it’d been there, you push her back ever so slightly. “I’m just going to be myself.”

“Hm, bad idea.”

“Oh, alright then.”

Eunbi clutches a hand over her chest like she’d been wounded. “I just mean you’re kind of a nervous wreck.”

“I’ll be fine,” you tell her, now properly buttoned, and sliding out from her small-yet-surprisingly-overbearing presence. “And I told you, I bruise easy.”    

“Yeah, no kidding.”

-

History, is the word you’re looking for. Minju and Eunbi have history.

It always starts the same way:

A kiss to one cheek, the other, and the two are immediately falling back on placid smiles and the kind of laughter that seems at a glance to be genuine and real. Almost theatrical, the performance. 

Though Eunbi’s always had that chip on her shoulder - says she knows what it’s like to be young and pretty and famous - and when they’re together Minju always manages to draw from this near-infinite supply of bashful and modest. Actually, that’s more or less her whole thing. 

The mistake you figure, if anyone were to ask you, which no one has one yet - the mistake is in thinking you’re the only one that knows Minju can’t stand Eunbi. Even though she does a great job of hiding it, you might be singular in regards to who gets to hear Minju go off in the privacy of your apartment - arrogant, vain, conceited bitch - but you’re not alone here. No, no.

Because Eunbi - who is perfectly aware just how much disdain Minju has for her - catches your stare. And instead of being content with how you’ve found the ideal spot to stand off to the side to avoid this whole minefield of a situation, she waves you over. Way too enthusiastically.

That has always set her apart. She would invite mischief, if she thought that it would set the scene.

-

It’s not more than a week before your paths cross again. Perhaps you’re tangling with fate. Perhaps it’s out of your control. Perhaps, you consider carefully, that’s more convenient. You see her first: waiting for a cab at the taxi stand outside the broadcast studio, cardigan sliding down around her shoulders, verily bedraggled in the wind.

The ends of her hair are in the corners of her mouth, and those long shadows cast from the evening sun dance across her face to paint those features baroque, build an image serene and stately - statuesque.

(She’s stunning as ever.)

That Eunbi is even here of all places is a coincidence, but her dimples deepen when her eyes meet yours, like she’s finally found something she was long looking for. “How serendipitous,” she says to you again, smiling.

“Right.” You grimace back, self-effacing. “Lucky.”

“You know,” she says after a moment, “our apartments really aren’t that-”

“Far,” you say, seeing the conclusion that she’s leaping at, and the next to make things become extremely complicated is Eunbi, which is so her that it makes your fists clench in your jacket pockets without realizing it.

“It’d be cheaper, I’m just saying, if we split a cab.”

“What if I told you,” you say, after a long while, “I get reimbursed for the commute either way.”

“Do you?”

“No,” you end up saying, bluntly.

“So, purely a hypothetical,” she suggests, leaning into your personal space, and your eyes drop immediately, past her bare shoulders, past the neckline of a matching top, pointedly to her knees beneath a pair of denim shorts. Her whole outfit is simple, but with a figure like hers, clearly intended to provoke a reaction, one that you’re not going to give her. You’re above that. 

“Yeah.” You tilt your head. “Sure.”

Her finger’s tapping at her chin, and it’s sort of cute the way she does it, making the gesture seem about half as patronizing as it should be. “Then just for good company’s sake?

“You-” It comes out uneven enough to get you chuckling to yourself, kind of nervously. Her eyes light up as you swallow back on your drying mouth - a beacon, lighthouse in a storm, safe harbor, siren’s call and all. Your gut is trying to tell you, danger, and then suggests you dive in headfirst. “You might be giving yourself too much credit.”

“Just entertain the thought for me.”

“Like a hypothetical, you mean.”

She laughs, and it has her eyes crinkling at the corners. Likable, you think immediately. Beautiful, right after that, and coincidence, as it were, ends there - just as abruptly.

You’ve made many selfish decisions in your life, but climbing into the back of that cab might be the most out of all of them - Eunbi just smiles when you arrive next to her. You never stood a chance against that, probably. It’s the Orpheus thing. The monkey’s paw thing. It’s not possible to lean out of a moving vehicle enroute toward collision, stop the wheels from spinning when they’re already spun, and unmake the wish. 

The blur of passing street lights streak across Eunbi’s face and present it to you in broken images, cycling like phases of the moon, until finally, an overpass sees everything go dark, and you feel her small body slide across the backseat, the heat in her chest as she presses into you.  

Her lips are featherlight upon yours, gentle and trepid. For the first time, she seems unsure, as if she didn’t think this would happen. Then once more, with a taste of desperation and sinking into the dark corner of the leather seat, she kisses you like she knows you, pulling tight onto the collar of your shirt like she knows you’ll kiss her back - like she knows that all you’ve been doing, at the end of the day, is delaying the inevitable.

-

Eunbi’s apartment, actually, is rather modest. More different, and less however you expected.

The walls are painted alabaster, not white, which is only a color you recognize because Minju had waffled between that and eggshell for weeks before tasking you to paint three of the four walls of your living room - only later to realize she wanted something darker as you were priming the fourth. There’s a small powder room by the door, a tiny closet overflowing with jackets and coats and all sorts of outfits you’ve probably stripped off Eunbi in your head a thousand times over - and what the space lacks in size, more than makes up for in the massive set of south facing windows, benefit of an open layout, daylight warm and diffuse.

Well, at least that’s how you imagine it. The sun set while you weren’t paying attention, your thoughts, hands, lips, all preoccupied in the back of the cab, so you’re left with only the recessed lighting, dimmed down to dreamlike allure.

Not that you've ever been one with an eye for detail. No, Minju will happily corroborate the fact. Your talents start at your wit, end at your charm. But it’s just where you’re at - head tipped over the back of the sofa - you’ve got your eyes anywhere besides where Eunbi’s kneeling in front of you, head bobbing up and down between your thighs. 

In spite of your plans to fold her over any surface sturdy and horizontal, you ended up like this, jeans not even half way down around your thighs. On instinct, you’re threading your fingers through her silky hair, though you can feel the glare she shoots up as you tighten your grip and start to pull. It’s not that Eunbi takes issue with you fucking her face inherently. It’s nothing like that at all.

“That’s it, pretty girl,” you murmur softly, voice wrecked. “You take my cock so well. Your smart little mouth was made for this, wasn’t it?”

Between messy kisses in the cab, the lobby, the elevator, while fumbling for her keys, she’d detailed to you all the things she wanted you to do to her, how she wanted you to fuck her, how she was going to make you cum. See, her mouth is gorgeous, even more vulgar, and she wasn’t going to let the opportunity slip: you’d understand exactly what that mouth could do. 

Because there’s the angle you’re now both familiar with, that you can fuck her apart, get her flushed, faltering and fucked into perfect submission until you steal your own release - that you’ve been running the memory back all damn week - but she figures you ought to know that she can make you cum without you ever needing to lift a finger. And given how sure she is running her tongue all over you, sucking your cock, mouth hot, unashamedly sloppy, fingers curled around your shaft in strokes of genius-

Fuck, she probably will.

Not that you’re one for understatement, mouth falling open as you sigh backward into the upholstery - feels amazing, you’re explaining to her when you’re not chewing your lip, so good at that, a little more, your mouth baby, fuck, it’s incredible. Like she doesn’t already know. 

Eunbi just slides her lips down your shaft so perfectly in response. All that wet suction near fatal. But it’s not what gets you to swear audibly, a low rumble from your chest that says she’s on the right track. It’s the look on her face: pouty pink lips cushioning your cockhead, parted around your shaft, sinking further now, back at the top again, spit drooling from the corners of her mouth. Her eyebrows are upturned, and when she hollows her cheeks some - lifts her eyelids and fixes that gaze on you - her irises are gleaming in juxtaposition, this doe-eyed girl blinking up at you, innocently, like she’s not taking your cock further into her mouth, fucking you until she chokes. 

Those eyes half-lidded, unknowing, and staring straight into you- 

She’ll make you cum, they read, blinking, deep in her throat. Her lashes flutter. She coughs. You’ll cum more.

Though for your part, it’s not like you’re aren’t handing yourself over to the sensation either, indulging in everything Eunbi’s mouth has to offer, what more you’re sure still to take. It’s hot and wet and her tongue is even better licking around the tip of your cock than it was pressed flat underneath it - you’re settling into it, just starting to rock your hips up to meet the softness at the back of her throat, and she nods her head down twice more, bathing more of you in her spit each time, sputtering. You’re not the easiest to take, but she’s almost casually contented, or something more smug, the uppish look of a girl who's never backed away from a challenge - who will happily go for more - and without fuss, she takes your entire length between her lips. 

“Oh, fuck me-” you mutter, going speechless the moment she starts to suck.

And with her nose to your belly, Eunbi is straining, fighting for breath. It’s not an accident that she’s making a total fucking mess, drool and precum dripping down your shaft. She’d take more of you, wet on her chin, on her fingers, she’d pull you further into her little mouth, like she’d have it no other way. Still, her tongue licks nonchalantly past the seal of her lips, laps at your balls, and you think you’re going to lose it when she realizes it’ll get you to shiver, how you won’t ask for more, but she can just keep doing it again, again.

You bury your face in your hands as you suck in your next breath. You’re leaking cum actually, only a little, and Eunbi just keeps blowing you like you aren’t.

Fantasies will never work again, not after this, because for all the times you’ve imagined Eunbi’s lips around you, you’ve never come up with anything remotely close. It’s not even clear if this talent of hers is natural, god-given, or if behind each of her coy expressions and holier-than-thou moments of proud eminence she’s secretly an insatiable cockslut, but man, the girl is really good at sucking cock.  

Maybe the tricky part about this, if you even want to begin to get into it (you do not) - allowing yourself a small taste of intimacy has sparked this want for so much more. Even when things were good, Minju wasn’t getting her mouth on you like this. You can’t put your finger on it, the last time you’ve had anything as satisfying as the press of Eunbi’s lips around you, this mess of dark slippery hair bobbing up and down in your lap lazily and unbothered, mouth making all these wet noises like she’s yours and nothing more - like she never will be - and fuck, it’s irresistable. Her tongue curls around you again, and she makes her jaw go slack until more spit drools down the length of your cock, lathering in her fingers and twisting around your shaft - it scratches at itches you didn’t even know you had; nascent itches, silent ones, itches cloaked as something else.

Your breath stutters, stumbling into an embarrassing little moan after Eunbi pops her mouth off your cock, and a fleeting trick of a grin rushes across her face. She picks up on where you’re at instantly: “Aren’t you, like, kinda quiet?”

“There’s a lot going through my head right now,” you tell her, and that’s something she knows she can play along with, reveling in how you swallow at nothing when she hooks her hand behind her back and frees her bra from her shoulders. Her tits settling perfectly into place. “Just to be clear,” you sigh, “I’m going to cum in your mouth if you keep doing it like that.”

She tugs your jeans all the way down to your ankles. Arches an eyebrow. “And?”

“It’s called being decent, just something I'm working on.”

“Oh,” Eunbi says, returning her grip around your cock. Her hands are tiny, stacked one on top of the other, and she pumps them slowly, knowing that the abundance of spit and precum in her fingers makes it feel amazing. Every little flick of her wrists every bit as unbearable. “Now you care about decency; the guy who’s cheating on his-”

“Watch it,” you say, rough, “I could go without the reminder.”

Eunbi’s grin flickers a little wider. “Still the guilty conscious, huh?”

You think on it, a moment too long probably, because on one hand, she’s right. On the other - “I’m not going to say it’s guiltless.”

“Okay simple,” Eunbi shrugs, and pulls herself away from you, suggesting, “just touch yourself.” 

That’s one way to go about it. You wonder if this is the logic her brain operates on daily. It’d explain a lot.

“That’s like getting away with it on a technicality.”

“It’s an orgasm,” Eunbi tuts, “you’re not robbing a bank.” There’s a brief silence while she brings her palm up over her eyes, peeking through her fingers. “Here, see, I’m not even looking.” 

“I’m going to go ahead and just point out that you’re suggesting I jerk off in your living room.”

Eunbi’s hands drop to her sides, before tracking up her ribs and holding her breasts together into a cleavage that is way too inviting for anyone’s sake. You’re enchanted. Beguiled, maybe.

“Or.” Her gaze tapers in on something. God only knows what exactly your tell is; the quirk in your brow, the slightly-more-than-usual-avoidant gaze, something about your lips, the way you’re biting them - that’s where she seems to have honed in. And she’s smoking you out, completely. “I could probably just fuck you with my tits.”

That’s true. She could. And when that developed thought eventually coheres, you sigh profoundly.

She tips her head, interpreting the silence, and the small, wanting groan you make as she starts smashing her breasts closer together between her hands is definitely audible. Here, she’s telling you, with your cock, I know you want to. Even her lips are slanted into a subtle, knowing shape, steeped in all her femme-fatality, before finding the other smile she wears that pretends like it doesn’t know what she’s doing to you. “Is that what you want? You want your cock between my tits?”

“How exactly are those two things interchangeable?” you start, which isn’t anything even in the neighborhood of a no, so Eunbi simply leans forward, raising her chest between your thighs and teasing the sensitive part of your cock with just a brush of her nipple. Grazing down you, it’s hardly any contact at all, but the way you twitch suggests to her you’ll probably never recover from this. 

“Well.” Eunbi’s expression is lit aflame with revelation. “I’m just working in the space, thinking about things someone else could never do for you - things I could do for you.” 

For one thing - of which there are many - it’s a hell of a departure from the Eunbi who was sobbing against the bathroom mirror begging you to cum inside her. You can hear it. Her voice has the quality of a type of: victory. 

(Like she’s just come up with the most brilliant idea in the world. Which - maybe.)

“It’s perfectly normal you know,” she adds, almost as an aside, while trapping your cock between her breasts. “Literally everyone asks me to do this.”

You’re disarmed more than you realized, only able to nod along. Eunbi laces her fingers together, straightens herself, and right after passing her tongue under her top teeth to shoot you a smile, starts moving up and down against you. The way it feels, filthy hot and suffocatingly amazing, fuck, you’re letting out a sound that’s the bastardchild of a laugh and a whimper. You’re stunned. And the way it looks - your cockhead escaping her tits, disappearing again - is almost, almost the best part. 

“You’re, like, so hard right now,” she says, deservedly confident, and sliding her tits up around your cock again, she tilts her chin, trying to goad it out of you. “Should I let you cum all over these tits? Like, you’re already throbbing, honey.”

Let you cum, she says. If you weren’t struggling to cope with everything - every pass of soft skin smothered around your shaft sending you further to wit’s end and threatening to abandon you there - you’d recognize the writing on the wall: you’re in the palms of her hands, figuratively, literally. You’re in trouble.

“Oh, is that it?” she asks again. “Should I?”

“Fuck.” Without even thinking, you’re spreading your knees wider, inching toward the edge of the sofa, aching to get deeper between her cleavage. “Fine, yes, fuck-”

“Unh-uh,” says Eunbi flippantly. 

See, she’s enjoying this - eyes hot and radiant with authority - she’s enjoying this more than you. Her fingers relax, letting her tits fall around down onto your thighs. The pressure she was letting you enjoy, wrapping around your cock and making you speechless, starts to dwindle to something less brain-numbing. It’s unexpected: the lipstick around her mouth is smeared slightly, mascara under her smoky eyes still in disarray from how you’d had your cock in her throat, and now she’s the one taunting you.

“No, I’m serious,” she adds, “I want to hear you say it.”

Her brow furls immediately when you open your mouth, like she’s already very aware of what you’re going to say, and equally unimpressed.

“Say you want me to make you cum with my tits.”

“Eunbi.” Your voice comes out dry, damaged. “Please.”

“Hm?”

This wasn’t quite how you had pictured it when you’d seen Eunbi leaving the studio, looking like an angel, smiling like the devil; when she batted her lashes at you outside the taxi stand; when she clung to you and kissed you in the backseat of the cab; when that escalated the moment you walked through her foyer; when she dropped to her knees and started at your belt, your zipper, all without missing a beat. This is different. This is you, being desperate. 

“Please, with your tits Eunbi, fuck me with your tits.” 

Jesus. Now you know how that sounds. And the words are clear enough given the circumstances, but she’s staring at you expectantly, waiting for more. Waiting for you to concede. Waiting like you have no choice - “please, Eunbi, please make me cum, fuck, I need it so bad.”

“Oh.” Eunbi gathers herself again around your cock. Tighter. Triumphant. She laughs dryly and says, aloof, “good boy.”

-

(Here’s how it goes:

Eunbi has your cock vanished into her cleavage, again, and every soft slide of her breasts coaxes a reaction out of you - some quiet, others louder - coaxes more precum from where your cock is aching, leaking. She adjusts her fingers, moves her palms in further, makes her movements more precise, faster, tighter- 

It’s probably not a good sign of mental hygiene that you’re wilting so fast, that you’ve given her so much power so quickly, but the way she has her tits around you is fucking staggering.

“Aw, don’t worry, I’ll make you cum so fucking hard.” Eunbi moves her tits up your shaft. Lets them fall again. “Just relax for me.”

Her dark hair is falling slightly out of place over her ears as she looks down and presses her out tongue out, licking gently at where you’re appearing over and over from her soft breasts. Oh, she knows exactly what she’s doing, you think, even though there’s not an ounce of culpability in her face. You’re so unused to seeing Eunbi appear so guileless that you nearly don’t recognize her. 

But once you feel the smooth skin of her chest become so wet and slippery with her spit, your precum  - once she’s settled into a reliable motion to fuck you with - her eyes lift their focus from what’s just beneath her chin. Get themselves fixed right on you. 

“It feels so good doesn’t it?” The smirk that finds her mouth is lethal. “C’mon. I know you want to cum.”

You can only nod, breath panting.

“Cum on these perfect tits, baby. Cum for me.” Her brow is cocked, voice lilting straight into seduction. “Cum-”

Eunbi’s name sticks to the roof of your mouth as you shoot a rope of cum past her collarbone. You send more all over her chest, hot and sticky and shimmering in pale white, and as soon as she slowly slides her chest up again, you drain your balls into the warm wrap of her tits. A truly satisfying mess. 

You stare for a moment, wondering, if she’ll open her mouth and swallow you again - all given the way she’s looking at your cock, hungry. But she simply tilts her chin and lets your cum splash onto her neck.

She has her hands pumping you lazily against her clavicle, cooing while she gently fuck out the final, tired vestiges of your orgasm with little flicks of her wrist: “oh, there, look at all that, and it’s all for me.”

Once your knees stop shaking and your breath starts to level - once Eunbi releases you from her warm, wet cleavage - she draws a shiver out of you with her tongue, run up the length of your sensitive cock, and she’s left kneeling there, covered in your cum, with her palms upturned like she’s waiting for someone to give her a towel. It’s you, and it’s her, and there’s something about the image of your cum splattered all over her chest, shining and slippery between her perfect tits. You get your hands on her waist immediately, pulling her up into your lap, her slick, sticky chest sliding against yours, and you devour her mouth greedily, licking hungrily past her lips.

“You are something else,” you say finally, now sunk back into the couch to fully take Eunbi in. “All sorts of party tricks.”

Eunbi preens, utterly satisfied with herself, and she reaches down behind her to your cock, aching in pained pleasure, aching for more. You flirt with the heat that radiates from behind her underwear, grinding against where she’s become hot and wet and needy. She laughs, and the sound turns to a pretty little sigh after she pulls aside her panties and seats herself onto your cock. 

“Oh, you have no idea,” she says, and she starts to move.)

-

It’s never supposed to become a habit. It’s never supposed to be anything at all.

At first? Once a month, and it’s unprompted; then it’s biweekly, then it’s once a week, then it ends up biweekly again in the opposite direction; there are these little text messages back and forth that you’re learning to decipher - hey, they usually start, you up? or you wanna help me move some furniture? or this is crazy, but i cooked way too much ramen? or been horny all day, so like, come over and fuck me? 

Some of them, you puzzle out, are easier to decipher than others. And falling comfortably into that category are the nudes she sends you in the middle of a fucking workday: 

Eunbi’s standing with the backside of her unfathomable figure facing the bathroom mirror, denim cut offs slipping down past her thighs-

(Fuck. Shit. You drop your phone and it lands face down in a way that makes you scared to check for damages. Luckily, it is unscathed. Mostly.)

-denim cut offs slipped down past the cheeks of her ass. Her torso is twisted in profile, a white linen shirt draped up over her shoulders for ceremonial purposes, gaping open at the front in an effort to cover nothing at all. Underneath that is a plaid swimsuit top for god knows what reason - a pair of large silver hoop earrings, perfectly done eyelashes, and hair far too styled to be gearing up for a swim - then it’s her thumb, hooked under the string that looks to barely be holding the tiny thing together. The picture is taken at nearly the precise moment: she’s pulling up on the bikini top, to the point that her tits look ready to fall out and let gravity return them whence they came. 

How she managed it, you’ll never know, but it’s got fantasies come to life immediately. Eunbi whimpering and coming apart, Eunbi stretched out in that bikini top, Eunbi stretched out without it - you nearly drop the phone again.

The text that follows is shameless, complete with a winking emoji and extra letters in all the right places: maybe tell minju you’ll be home late for dinner.

All of this, and suddenly you’re feeling less oblivious about it. You and Minju are at that point. These are your death throes, a swan song, performative; you’re that kind of couple.

-

You realize there’s this thing that Minju always says. 

You’ll often catch her in passing, between your hectic schedules or in her spot between the cushions of the sofa curled up in a blanket and reading another romance novel. She’ll ask you how your day was, or what it’s going to be, and you’ll tell her what you always tell her.

“Nothing,” she responds as you press a dutiful kiss to her forehead, “I’m just thinking.”

-

But what else is there to say?

There’s Eunbi’s apartment, the usual scene of the crime. There’s the backseat of your car, sometimes the front seat of hers. There’s no lack for nooks and crannies in the production studio. You fuck Eunbi. Eunbi fucks you. All of it rabid and increasingly frequent and most of the time it gets seriously freudian.

“Inside me,” Eunbi gasps, twice. Her chest is flushed, stained again with your cum, sticky strands of it bridging between her tits as they wobble and shake beneath you. It’s all routine, and none of it anything you could ever tire of. The way you’re fucking her, every deliberate thrust something you can hang on to forever - buried inside her hot, tight velvety cunt - it should be aspirational. And you’ve got her here so frequently, so selfishly, so perfectly. With her knees folded up to her shoulders as you ride the motions of the bed springs. 

Maybe it’s curiosity at play, to see how far either of you will go. You’re crushing her in more ways than one. It’s hot and filthy and she’s loving every moment of it. You’re pounding her sopping cunt into a swollen, cummed-in mess - more and more as you fuck her further into the matress. “Do it, baby,” she cries, unashamed, “want you to fill this pretty little cunt again, need you to fuck me, use me, need you to breed me - use this pussy however you want, it’s yours, so cum in me over and over until i’m just your little cumdump and nothing more-”

God, you want to give her everything she wants, all of the time. Your hips ride into her again, deep and making her features skip past all the usual coy expressions. And god, she is so fucking tight - maybe you will.

“Just like that, don’t stop.” Eunbi is panting, nails digging into your shoulder blades, and she holds your face to the crook of her shoulder. Her voice comes out in airy gasps, shaking and quivering as you rock her entire body beneath you. You pound away at her pussy, and you fuck her, and you rail her so reckless she starts to cry out, until she’s begging, pleading for you to fill her pretty little cunt.

Even though you should at least hesitate, you don’t. You can’t. You shouldn’t.

Hips grinding against hers, cunt clenched and dripping onto your cock, you do.

You need her.

-

But what else is there to say? It’s not that you don’t do your fair share of thinking either. Though none of it productive, admittedly. You’ve got all these images, photographically vivid, of Eunbi running through your head. The things you’ve done to her, the things you want to do to her, the things you will do to her. 

It starts to get in the way of your work.

“I’m sorry,” you say, caught daydreaming one day. “Could you repeat that for me?”

Sitting across the table from you is Jo Yuri, a mutual friend. She knows everyone, and she’s on your radio show, talking about relationships. “What I’m saying is this: I’m not sure what it is about men that make them think women are so unsolvable, like we’re constantly changing the rules.”

“They’re not simple,” you offer in contention.

Yuri turns her head onto her hand, adjusting her headphones, and leans into the mic. “They’re not complex either.”

But, they are complex, you think to yourself as Yuri continues on her with her point. They’re complex in the way they want you to touch them, the way they want you to hold them, to kiss them; some of them complex in the way they want you to choke them, slap them, get your mouth on them and make them cum over and over-

“If it’s less subtle than a brick to the face,” Yuri says, gauging your lack of a reaction, “it’s probably for your own good. That’s what I think.”

-

Neither of you cry when Minju breaks up with you on a Friday. You know, like officially. Neither of you shout or throw things or do anything that you could put in a tell-all book in your later years.

So that’s that, is the last thing she says to you.

Whatever the opposite of cathartic is - that’s the vibe.

Her publicist finally sends a letter to Dispatch. Apparently the time is right. Or she’s stopped caring. You don’t know. The article that ultimately arrives doesn’t drag you through the mud, but you don’t come out looking all that great either. And as it turns out, surprisingly, the most tragic part about being dumped on a Friday, aside from the fact that every fool that is doom scrolling twitter knows about it, is it’s impossible to get new furniture delivered until the following Monday.

“Jesus,” Eunbi says, sliding past you and into your near empty apartment. “This place is super depressing.”

“You shouldn’t be here,” you say, tepid. “There’s been photographers watching the door to the lobby for hours.”

“I was just passing by. Saw the lights were on.”

“Yeah, well, I mean I’m here.”

“I see that.” Eunbi smiles simply. “Was all the furniture hers?”

“We replaced a lot of stuff as time went on. Didn’t match her decor.” You lean against the door frame. “Or so I’m told.”

Eunbi does a spin in your living room, finger to her chin. “Looks like she left you a coffee table.” 

“The movers said it didn’t fit in the truck.”

“Ah.” Eunbi crosses her arms, and the quiet smile on her face grows just an inch. “Serendipitous, ain’t it?”

-

“Hey,” Eunbi says, from the passenger seat of your car. “Would you say… are you feeling anger?”

“No.”

She taps away at her phone in a few more moments of silence. The turn signal’s click click click punctuating each one, semi-dramatically.

“Hey,” she says again, turning toward you.

“What?”

“How about this, are you feeling depression.”

You pause before you answer. “No.”

Her mouth finds a subtle twist, almost like she’s pouting. “Are you feeling, I dunno, bargaining?”

“I’m not in grief, Eunbi, if that’s what you’re working toward.”

She sinks into her seat, disappointed somehow.

“Oh, that’s the first step by the way: denial.” Eunbi unclicks her seatbelt, and leans over the console as you pull up in front of a hotel. “This article says that soon the emotions you’ve been hiding will begin to rise. You’ll be confronted with a lot of-”

“Stop.”

“Stop what?” she asks, blinking deceptively in an almost comically innocent way.

“Psychoanalyzing.” You shut the car door a little too dramatically to be of any help hammering home your point. “I told you, I’m fine.”

“Fine?” Eunbi murmurs, just low enough for you to catch, “you’re living out of a hotel. And denial is not just a river in Egypt.”

“Why don’t we analyze how you’ve got a real talent for getting under my skin.”

“Oh.” She laughs, eyes bright, cheery. “So we are angry.”

“You might want to be more careful.” You’re wandering into familiar territory here. This thing, the needling, the goading, is it on purpose? Your intuition suggests yes, perhaps. A wealth of experience tells you absolutely.

“Is that so?” she asks, interested and daring and dangerously pretty in the shadows of the parking lot.

“Who knows, maybe I end up getting a little rough with you.”

“Oh darling,” she says, and part of you isn’t too keen on her getting so intimate with you. There’s another part of you that is. “I’m hoping you get a lot rough with me.”

-

The way Eunbi perches inelegantly at the edge of the bed says a lot. Her legs are wide open and she’s grasping backward at a set of pristine hotel sheets, cumming over and over on your fingers, maybe a little too easily. She’s even giving you those eyes, watery and irresistable. Of course you’re past all that, well familiar with the act, how deceitful it is of her to act so innocent.

So you bring your mouth onto her pussy and make her do it again. Telling yourself it’s what she deserves.

In fact, when the barrage of oh god’s and moaning and panting finally subsides, she ends up laughing, bubbly cute, in exactly the way you’ve grown fond of. It’s almost strange, you think, to be so used to the sound. But when Eunbi finally uncovers her face from her hands, her expression is pointedly not amused, all need and lust and want - she’s not playing around - simply the way your name comes off her tongue could make you melt. “How do you want me?” she asks, “you can’t just leave me like this.”

Fuck, how don’t you want her? It might have been careless, giving someone like you creative liberty - you’re imaging everything. You want her on her knees, you want her ass in your hands, you want her riding you, beneath you; there’s a million and one things you’re thinking about her tits alone. Then there’s the other liberty. That you’re not checking over your shoulder, worrying, anxious, that kernel of shame hidden away somewhere inside you no longer growing as you get your cock inside her. You’ll make her scream your name, beg you to cum. She’s yours, and you’ll remind her who she belongs to. You’ll take all the time you need. 

“Stand up,” you end up telling her, and after one of those liquid thoughts finally coalesces into something more rigid, “over by the window.”

“Yes sir,” Eunbi says, huffing a smug laugh. Though whatever faux confidence she thought she discovered vanishes without a trace considering her knees are already wobbling, barely able to support her. Some part of her must be able to sense it: you’re worked up, feeling something. She likes you that way. Likes what it makes you do to her. The fact is, to be truly content - being held down and pounded into, filled so full and fucked apart - it’ll take just a press of her thumb on the scale. 

See, Eunbi knows you’ve been holding back. Knows you’ve been flirting with the boundaries she’s dared you to cross. With a little encouragement, she knows you will. 

You saw this coming. And to be frank, you’re going to ruin her.  

“Take your shirt off,” you say, slipping seamlessly into instruction, “socks, underwear, strip.”

It is breathtaking, the way Eunbi ultimately turns her figure around against the pane, hands running up the glass and stretching above her head, ass poked out and shimmying her hips. She’s right there, waiting for you to grab hold of her, to press kisses into her shoulders, her spine, to pump your cock into her, to cum in her deeper and deeper-

And with much less to say, she finds that shimmy again, the round of her ass proffering. Her patience waning.

“You fucking better,” she says, and her elbow’s bent, finger’s pulling at her ass cheek. Look, this pussy, it’s yours, no one else’s and you made it so, so wet. You almost can’t believe that she’s even real - all curves and sharp angles in the right places, a face like that - you should be at her feet, worshiping her, and you will, in a way: you’ll grip her wrists tightly into your fist and sink your fingers into her waist until you’ve got her bruising and breaking. And that’s just a scratch at the surface.

Eunbi’s pupils are blown, mouthing into her shoulder, “I need you to fuck me.”

The tension in the room hardly stretches more than a few moments, you’ve got your cock out, you’re slipping into Eunbi’s soaked cunt, pushing deep, thrusting deeper, bottoming out - “you perfect fucking slut, Eunbi, so needy aren’t you? Begging me to breed you over and over-” You’ve spent the last god knows how many many months hiding away and stealing at something you weren’t supposed to have. Spent even longer pining for something you’ve never had at all. Your hips snap again, harsh contact against her ass, skin milky white and soft, unblemished and delicate - and when you settle into this harsh tempo, railing Eunbi up against the window, you figure you’ll address all that. 

See, you’ve got no ticking clock in front of you. Consider how time starts to slip when you’re inside her, seconds to minutes, minutes to hours, you’ll take as much you can: time to bring her her home, keep your cock in her for a day, two days, three days, keep cumming in all her holes-

“Fuck,” Eunbi sputters, arching her back further, tension building in her spine, in her cunt. The reflection in the window shows her bottom lip start to tremble, and she opens her mouth, repeating it, like it’s all she can remember how to say. “Fuck, fuck, fuck-”

You slap her ass, hard. Handprint vibrantly pink and staring back at you. You kiss her shoulders, you pound her little cunt into consummate submission. I want other people to know, Eunbi’s entirely incapable of telling you right now, drool cornering in her lips. Want everyone to know how good you fuck me, how you own me, how I’m your personal cumdump and forever will be.

You mark her up, like she is yours, hand at her neck, in her hair - you start to pull.

“Yes?” How you’re holding her, how you’re fucking her - it’s physically imposing. You’re towering over the woman, face bent upward and reaching further as the grip you’ve stolen of her silky hair only ever tightens. You can kiss her forehead, but you don’t. You tease her instead. “Aw, you’ve got a look on your face like you have something you want to tell me, Eunbi.”

All too simple, your thumb lands on the pucker of her asshole. And she cums, just like that.

It’s unholy. The overstimulation has tears welling in her eyes, gorgeous, wide, glassy and brilliant. She’s not meant to take this kind of treatment. Reverence, adoration, that’s her usual faire. And she can hardly believe when you bring your hand down her ass again - can hardly believe that you’re fucking her within and inch of her life and wrecking her like you are.

Each thrust sends her voice higher and the lines of her body rippling faster, bending further. Its beauty in resonance, profundity in motion: the soft skin of her ass shaking against your hips, tits swinging against the window. Your hand snakes across her flat stomach, feels her panting for breath, traces her ribs and up towards her chest. Those little whines make it out to be something selfish. Mewling gasps for air make it seem like you aren’t giving her exactly what she asked for. As if you’d ever give her anything less. 

Fuck. She’s a hot, moaning mess of a woman. She doesn’t even roll her hips back onto you or fuck herself on your cock; she doesn’t need to. You’re destroying that little pussy, and once you start palming the heavy shape of her breast, you’re letting your fingers sink into all that profundity. 

“Please,” finally slips out of her, though she’s unable to add anything in that thin, wilting voice. There’s plea in it, the sound steeped in protest, in penury, in poverty; you’re fucking her and you’re fucking her apart - cock buried deep in her cunt - you never expected to have to piece her together this early.

“Tell me,” you demand, callous, right at her ear, “please what? Please pound this perfect little pussy of yours until I cum? Please fill you with a hot load of cum because what, you deserve it? Is that you want, Eunbi?”

“Please, cum-” Her words vanish like a hot breath against the glass. She’s blathering, eyes falling half-lidded in this amazingly sexy way that almost feels intentional. “Want to feel you cum. Fill me up with cum, please, please, please-”

“Oh, Eunbi,” you drawl, right into the crook of her neck. It makes her shiver. She’s not a princess, curses woven into her breath, but she’s selfish like one. “I’m not going to cum in this perfect little pussy-”

It all happens so fast: you drag your cock out of her cunt, and if you weren’t pressing your fingers into her waist, holding her tighter, you think she might collapse. Maybe you were closer than you realized, moments from draining your balls in her pussy, because when you lay cushioned between the cheeks of her ass, your cock just starts to spill - hot cum weeping from the tip and making a mess of her soft, creamy skin, over the puffy lips of her pussy, across the tight little rim of her asshole.

“Good girls get bred, Eunbi,” you say, voice drying, sensitive, and so far from where you started. “You told me to be rough with you baby. I’m thinking I might cum in this perfect fucking ass. Should I?”

Eunbi’s face is flush against the glass, hands reaching back in response, spreading herself for you. Some part of her knows what you want, and she knows how bad she wants it too. “Please,” she begs, swallowing down on these hoarse uneven breaths, hiccupping between them - “need it.”

You can feel your tip tease her rim, where she’s still impossibly closed and waiting. The cum leaking from your cock is wet and slick and slippery, and with a fist curled around your shaft, realigned, angled down, you slip in.

There aren’t even words for it, how it all comes together. How she comes apart.

“Fuck,” you breathe out, recognizing Eunbi’s weight shift around you. “I’m going to fucking own this little asshole, Eunbi.”

Eunbi’s responsive mmm runs ragged. Face in profile against the window, tits smashed against the glass, you watch her eyes screw shut and her eyebrows draw together - you think for a moment, as you so often do, that you’re hurting her, blazing past safewords and pressing your cock too deep, too fast into her tight ass. “Go,” she tells you, and without even flinching, gets her fingers underneath where you’re splitting her in two, gets them wet with the slick of her cunt and in between your balls, gently. “Want you, please, this big cock.”

Your eyes water, and you start to thrust.

“Baby,” you whisper into the lobe of her ear. For once it’s all slow, sloppy and soft. It’s sin at your waist, fucking her open slowly, pumping into her ass again and again until it’s all so slick she can take you further. But you’ve got your fingers in her hair, preening loose strands back behind her hair. She’s so pretty all the time, and with her face twisted in unbearable pleasure, she’s outright gorgeous. “So good for me, Eunbi, such a good little cumslut aren’t you?”

Eunbi’s voice crackles into broken whimpers, like her lungs are waterlogged and flooded. She steals a hand away between her thighs, and starts ghosting her fingers over her clit. Anything more than that and she’d probably go up in smoke. (If it’s anything like you, cock pulsing with blood and hot as flame, you are about to lose it.)

“Fuck,” she says, grinding out the consonants in your name like she’s crushing them under a boot, “I can’t believe how good you feel, I can’t, I can’t-”

You knew, had always known, that you had - however subconsciously - enticed fate by letting yourself get to this point. Maybe it’s a perfect slowburn, this history, dotting commas and periods in your memoirs, and here you are, pounding at Eunbi’s asshole so fast that she’s stuttering.

“I can’t, fuck - thank you - fuck - feel you throbbing in my fucking ass - love being your cocksleeve,” she hisses, and her body has practically all but given up, knees buckled out, arm dangling at her side, tears streaming down her cheeks. It’s just that she never expected it either, that you’d be pleasing her by fucking her like a toy, so unrepentant she’s sobbing messy, all sloppy and pleading, more, please, harder, faster.

“You like this cock tearing your ass open, Eunbi?” you ask, pushing the hand she has hidden at her cunt out of the way, “you like being such a perfect slut for my cock, don’t you? You weren’t kidding, you’d let me do anything to you.”

“Please, don’t, you’re gonna make me - again,” she squeals, lip wobbling, mouth hung open. You push her hard against the glass, until she straightens out, and your finger is gliding through the slick of her cunt, knuckles knocking the window and honing in on her swollen clit - you’ll make her scream. “Oh god, fuck, oh god, fuck, fuck, fuck-”

Serendipity is about chance meetings, convenient covers. Life has a way of dropping the world in your lap without you having to do anything. It’s Eunbi’s picture-perfect face, wrecked and twisting as she cums all over your thighs, rolling her hips and fucking her ass onto you - it’s that when she cums with her puckered entrance stuffed full of cock, she squirts everywhere. Lucky, is the watchword you’re sitting on, and of all places, of all people, you’ve been dealt the perfect hand, deck stacked in your favor.

There’s wet splattered all over the window. Stains streaking in the carpet. Dark spots that’ll never fade.  

“Keep fucking me,” Eunbi says, head of jet black hair titled back onto your shoulders, hips twisting slow as she grinds down against your waist, moving enough to make your cock throb and pulse. “Keep fucking me, please, until you fill my ass up all the way. I’m yours.”

Yours, yours, yours, she stammers on, failed and wrecked on your cock. Malleable and pliant. Ruined. 

“This tight little ass of yours, Eunbi,” you mutter, drawing sharp breath after sharp breath, “is fucking unbelievable.”

It’s yours.

Her body twists, torso turns into you, and you get your mouth on hers, moaning and mewling on the same hot, damp air.

“Good girl,” you whisper against her lips, and with a final kiss to her temple, you fuck into her hard - hands snuck up to hold her breasts and keep her still, hips snapping fast, faster, faster-

When you finally explode up into Eunbi’s ass, she makes a noise fucked and faltering even further than you. It’s desperate and debauched and only staunched by the fingers you slip past her lips. She bites down, but you’re too far pitched into the reality of pumping cum past Eunbi’s tight entrance that you can’t be bothered to care.

“Fuck, Eunbi.” Your voice is sneaking through gritted teeth. She’s tiny against you, body slender and hot and milking your cock. A flash of muscle, a quiver, a pucker, and she’s got you reeling. You think about getting your hand around her throat - fucking her again - but the look her face is so pristine and contented. You have her like putty in your hands, like you could bend her, mold her, break her, and when you instead bring her face to yours in this lazy, clumsy kiss, lips sliding and her tongue licking into your mouth, you know you’d never need to.

See, she’s so dismantled, completely stuffed with cock, and still, with it leaking everywhere you can feel it run hot and sticky, it’s perfect. 

The hotel room isn’t big, and until this exact moment, had been so filled with sex that the the sounds of it echoing back and forth make this sudden quiet into a silence puzzlingly calm. Her features relax, into something a little more befitting her reputation. She’s sweaty and wet and you did your part, you fucked her and fucked her up, you realize, she’ll return you the favor later. 

You hold your breath, watching the beauty mark on her cheek raise and lower with every panted-out breath, mesmerized-

And with just the slightest shift, Eunbi’s mouth closes into this tiny, satisfied smile.

“You came inside my ass,” she says out loud. She tries not to laugh, and then she does anyway when you slide your cock out of her. “You just came - in my ass. Look.”

It’s almost unfathomable, that you just fucked her until she was sobbing, pushed your cock into her ass and had her uncoil like she did, the window, the carpet. Like a fucking disaster. It’s almost unfathomable that she’s got her hands spreading her cheeks open toward you and presenting the mess you’d made like it was something to be proud of, and after all that the mood of the moment shifts a little more intimate, a little more sentimental.

“You’re trouble,” you tell her, tilting her chin up under your fingers.

“Right back at you,” she says, and she pitches onto her feet until you kiss her again.

-

(It happens.

Time passes. You work on a new show. You move into a smaller apartment. It reeks of passed time. Maybe it’s the humidity of early sobriety, hanging and palpable. You can hear ticking in clockless rooms here.

It’s been years since Minju dropped the bombshell on the media. You recovered, mostly. Years too since you’ve seen Eunbi.

Sometimes the people you wanted as part of your story are only meant to be a chapter. You could probably stitch that into a frame and sell it to the kind of crowd who’d buy words in a frame.

You don’t.

Instead, you end up a little older, not in any meaningful way. You’re not wiser or any shit like that. Just older.)

-

You interrupt the producer of your current gig, a pretty middling radio show in a pretty mundane time slot. “What do you mean by new cohost? Like I’ll be working with another human being?”

He nods.

“Like every week?”

Nods again.

“Does he have a name?”

“She,” he corrects, writing judiciously at the clipboard permanently in his hands. Scowl on his face, pencil in his ear, clipboard in his hands, that’s how you know he’s in charge. It’s a whole look. He untucks a blank envelope from the disarray of papers in his hands, saying, “she dropped this off for you too.”

You turn it in your hands twice, until you see the cursive penned into the top right corner. Memories, stinging trifling things rush back to you, all at once: you see her face, her eyes are closed, she’s smiling, she’s a thought you’d tucked away for good, and now you’re wading through it like you hadn’t. 

Serendipitous.

[honeipie]

HOCKEY BOYS

part 2; izuku midoryia x fem!reader

synopsis: the captain of japan’s hockey team has his eye on the coach’s daughter

( the smaller font is gonna be a flashback! )

izuku midoryia, the black heron. people never really know what they are, and that’s what adds to his un-expecting nature. the black heron is most known for its unique methods for catching prey. the bird forms its wings to look like an umbrella, keeping out light from under them. the fish then mindlessly assume that this is shelter, some sort of safe haven. that is until the heron strikes, making sure that nothing is left behind.

he never wanted to get into any fights. if he had participated in one it’s likely because he had been roped into it trying to get katsuki out.

there were two reasons he didn't feel the need to fight. one, he just wasn't raised that way. if inko knew that he was picking any fight he could get she would drag him out of the rink by his ear. and the second was you.

"i don't like seeing you get hurt izu. especially when it's because of someone else" you had snuck back into the locker room once all of the players, plus your dad, had went home. the first aid kit sat by your side because he didn't let anybody else tend to him. he had said he was fine, but you weren't just going to let him go on in his current state.

"i know, i'm sorry" he mumbled under his breath, almost embarrassed that you had to see him this way "i just wanted to pull kacchan out of there. you know how he can be"

you placed a band aid on his cheek before placing your hand over it "i know you worry about him, but sometimes it's okay to let him fight his own battles. how will he learn if he never gets a chance?" his eyes gazed into yours and finally gave in. he let out a sigh leaning his head more into your hand.

"you're right. i'm sorry again"

you giggled at the sight of him. practically melting into you with the most apologetic tone. leaning in you placed a soft peck on his lips "it's okay my love. you're just trying to be the best captain you can be"

the kiss left him with a giddy smile on his face. he just loved you so much. it's not like he didn't want to make your relationship known to the world, he did. it's just your father was the problem.

yes, he was an amazing coach and mentor, but he played no games when it came to you. and yes, the two of you were both adults and could do what you wanted. it’s just that both of you knew that the news would probably piss him off for the rest of the season.

it really all started at one of the first practices you had attended, denki decided that it would be a bright idea to discuss just how attractive you were in the locker room.

"i mean did you even see her? she's gorgeous!"

sero chuckled grabbing his jersey "gorgeous, yeah, but she's the coach's kid, so messing with her is some dangerous game you're playing"

denki shrugged with a smirk on his face "i ain't afraid of a challenge" the locker room went silent after that comment. denki lifted his head up with a raised eyebrow "c'mon you can't tell me that you wouldn't want to get with her!"

"get with who exactly?"

the voice made denki's blood run cold. he gulped silently as he turned in his spot. he came face to face with your father who did not look happy. arms crossed, he took another step closer to him.

"get with who?"

“i- nobody-“

“i should shove you against these lockers right now. don’t ever speak of my daughter like that again do you hear me?” he looked up making sure to make eye contact with every single player in that room “this goes out for everyone. if one of you even thinks about getting with her then breakin’ her heart i swear i’ll make your career living hell. do you understand?”

a bunch of yes sir’s could be heard around the room. it was right on time, because you had just made your way into the locker room but with your back turned.

“everyone is decent right? i don’t wanna see anyone’s junk”

“you’re fine y/n” your dad shook his head as you turned around with a smile. in your hand you held a plate of cookies with labels on some of them “sweetheart, why would you bring those everyone’s on a strict diet”

you rolled your eyes taking off the plastic wrap “dad i know. that’s why i made the healthier cookies not the regular ones. they have flaxseed, bananas, oats, stuff like that!” you looked around the room with a happy smile “does anybody want one?”

the team looked down at the plate of cookies, then at you father. he nodded in approval which made them cheer in approval. you went around the locker room handing them each a cookie. when you got to izuku it was like the world stopped for a moment. freckles scattered across his face, and shifting when he went to smile.

his smile.

it was one of those things that you would never get tired of.

you’ve had a crush on him for a while, but had only seen him on television or from a distance. when your father said you could help out at the rink you’ve never been faster to agree.

“y/n?”

the sound of your name quickly pulled you from your daydreaming. izuku had been calling your name growing concerned each time you didn’t answer.

“sorry! i zoned out for a second there”

the smile made its way back onto his face hearing you were okay “good, i just wanted to know what the options were”

you explained everything that you had and he ended up taking one of the more plain cookies. deciding it was now or never, you made some conversation.

“you’re the captain right? how’s captaining?” what a smooth talker you were.

he chuckled a bit at your question “yeah, i am. captaining has been good. just hoping i can lead my guys to victory, y’know?”

you nodded along ready to leave before you embarrassed yourself any more, but there was one more thing you had to say.

“you’re doing great. the way you encourage your teammates and bring them all together is really inspiring. you can even tell the difference in the way they’re playing. just keep doing what you’re doing” with a smile you walked off going to hand off the last of your cookies.

red, everything was red. izuku had to turn his whole body just to make sure your father didn’t see the way he was blushing. the compliments you gave him were like cupid’s arrows to the heart.

katsuki stood next to him watching the whole interaction go down. with a shake of his head he sighed “you’re in fuckin’ trouble”

you had been “seeing” each other for a couple of weeks, but decided to make it official about six months ago. both of you being extremely happy and secure in your current relationship, and maybe when the hockey season was over you could really settle.

by the next game, izuku could take the small bandages off his face. there was no pre-game routine the two of you had, you didn’t need one. he knew you were there for him and only him, and you trusted him enough not to do anything. though you did keep a piece of him with you as he played.

usually you would wear a hoodie to games, so underneath you would wear one of his shirts. and don’t think forgot about you. izuku had carved your initials into his favorite hockey stick long ago. you decided on sitting in the box with the players on the bench, just on a separate chair. this game would be a big one, and you could tell by your fathers pacing back and forth.

“they’ve got this dad, don’t worry”

he sat down next to you with a heavy sigh “i know honey. we just can’t have anything go wrong” you gave him a pat on the back as you watched them line up. izuku had took his place with a focused gaze.

he was naturally a fun and playful person, but as soon as he stepped onto that ice, it was go time.

the starting sound rang out and they were off. speeding across the ice like their lives depended on it. you cheered every time a goal was scored making sure izuku could hear you above the others.

they were doing amazing in the first two periods. always up by at least three points. plus not even one fight insinuated from katsuki. it’s in the third period where you saw things start to get a little rocky. izuku was starting to slip. every time a certain player from the opposing team got near him he would miss a shot completely.

your dad whistled for him to come back over to the bench “kid the hell are you doing? get it together before you’re benched for the rest of the game, you hear me?” izuku gave him a silent nod, but you could tell that he was barely listening. you wanted to reach out, to ask what’s wrong, but all you could do was sit back and watch it happen. it was a good minute before izuku was let back on the ice again.

he had seemed to regather himself and was able to shoot a few passes, but once the player came back it all went downhill.

you could see your dad shaking his head out of the corner of your eye “dad maybe it’s just an off day. everybody has them-“

you had looked away for a second.

and when you looked back you saw izuku yelling at one of the players from the other team. the player had shoved him hard which gave izuku an opening. balling up his fists he sent a punch directly to his right cheek, but he didn’t stop there. he made sure to grab his jersey and pull him down to the ground with one hand and still tried to punch him with the other.

the refs finally stopped it when they saw the other guys nose was starting to bleed. two of them just had to pull izuku off the guy. he had been so distracted by what the guy said he didn’t even know he had kept going. you watched as they didn’t even drag him to the penalty box, but off the ice.

he couldn’t even look at you as he walked down the hallway back into the locker rooms.

“what the hell’s gotten into him-“

you didn’t wait for your dad to finish his sentence as you climbed over the small wall and headed down into the locker rooms.

“izu?” you saw him sitting on one of the benches head down and in his hands. there was some room next to him so you sat down gently rubbing his back “baby what happened out there?”

he didn’t talk right away, just trying to get his breathing back under control.

“they were just- just talking a bunch of shit. i didn’t care when they were doing it about me, that’s whatever. but somehow they know about me and you. the only people that really know is the team. i’m not sure how it even got to him”

it finally clicked. how he was playing, how the players kept getting close to him.

“you did it cause they were talking about me? izu you didn’t have to”

he shook his head “no, no i did have to. y/n you’re my girlfriend. if you think i’m gonna let some douchebag insult you when you’re not there to defend yourself then you’re crazy”

“oh izu” you cupped the other side of his cheek going to turn his head to face you. at first he wouldn’t meet your eyes, but it didn’t take long for his to find yours again “i am very thankful that you defended me like that. i would even say it was very, very hot”

this made him laugh, showing the smile you fell in love with.

“what i’m trying to say is thank you” you leaned in giving him a long kiss. when you pulled away you finally noticed the cuts and spot that was definitely going to bruise “i’ll get something to clean you up” you went to turn on the bench but stopped seeing someone standing in the doorway. the two of you stared in shock for a second before you got up “dad don’t do anything stupid”

he walked closer to the two of you, nodding his head towards the other hallway “the first aid kit hasn’t been refilled from the last fight. can you go find someone who can do that for us?”

“dad i don’t think”

“y/n”

“fine” you leaned down to kiss izuku’s cheek, but also whispered in his ear “i’ll be right back”

once you turned the corner, your father sat down next to izuku with a sigh. the green haired male looked down at his hands unsure what to say.

“son-“

“i love your daughter” he blurted out cheeks bright pink from embarrassment “really, really love her. and i know you don’t want anyone from the team dating her-“

“midoryia-“

“no sir, i’m sorry i have to finish this” izuku looked him straight in his eyes a small lump forming in his throat. this could either go amazingly well, or absolutely horrible. your father stared him down for a couple of seconds before nodding that he could continue “thank you sir” after taking a deep breath he went on to start.

“i tried to respect your wishes, i did. but every time i saw her, it was like i was drawn to her. i wanted to make her laugh because i love her laugh. and i wanted to make her smile more than anyone or anything. you raised such a kind, beautiful, and caring daughter that i just- just can’t imagine my life without. sorry if you think this is not manly of me, it’s definitely not how i thought this was going to go. thought i’d puff my chest out and do some big ‘it’s not your choice anyway’ shit but i’m not like that” he shook his head “you’re her father, and i respect that. i wanted to let you know how i really feel, and that she’s in good hands”

your father listened intently to izuku’s lovesick rambling. he noticed the way he smiled when he talked about you. along with some far off look in his eye. probably daydreaming about the future the two of you hold. lifting up a hand he clapped izuku on the back “i appreciate everything you’ve said. and i hope this doesn’t make it any less when i say this but.. i already knew about the two of you. maybe not dating but i could tell from every interaction the two of you had that something was going on”

izuku’s mouth hung open at the news. he just couldn’t believe that he had hid it for this long.

“i trust you. i trust you on the ice, and i trust you with my daughter. you’ve been nothing but good to her. so if you want my blessing you’ve had it for a long time. for what you two are doing now, and any plans you have in the future” with his other hand he tapped one of izuku’s fingers making his face turn a deeper shade of red.

“thank you sir. i’ve been thinking about it a lot lately and-“

“thinking about what?” you asked walking into the room with a first aid kit. eyebrows knit together at the sight of your fathers hand on izuku’s shoulder “dad please tell me you didn’t threaten him or something. i’m a grown woman and i think i should be able to be with whoever i want” you’ve been mustering up the courage to say that ever since you’ve retrieved the first aid kit. your father got up heading over to you.

“i agree”

“i can try to see where you’re coming from but- huh?” you stopped your practiced speech when he came over to hug you.

“he’s a good kid, and i can tell he loves you” he placed a gentle kiss at the top of your head “im sorry that i made you feel like you needed to hide this from me. your mother has told me countless times that we need to set boundaries and i never listened, but i am now”

you started to tear up, but quickly blinked them away “thank you dad. that means a lot” a horn sounded meaning that the brake was now over. he stepped away going back into the doorway before turning around.

“midoryia this doesn’t mean that you’re off the hook. you’re out for the rest of the game so get cleaned up” he pointed towards the two of you “but not together”

your face got hot and you grabbed the nearest jacket and threw it at him “get out!” he let out a roaring laugh that echoed through the halls until he was gone. shaking you head you sat next to izuku again “the audacity of that man” you mumbled going to open up the first aid kit but he stopped you.

izuku gently grabbed your one hand placing a kiss to your wrist. this made you giggle but you didn’t pull away “what’s with you?”

he then placed a kiss to the back of your hand “i’m just happy he found out. it’s like a weight lifted off my shoulders” you hummed in agreement.

“so what did you tell him?”

the last kiss was placed on your fingers. the fingers that intertwined with his own. the fingers that held his face every time you wanted his attention. the fingers that soon would be accented with a beautiful wedding ring.

“the truth”

[featguler]

i just wanna say ────── when i see your face, was like, "where have you been?"

♡ ────── pairing : vinícius júnior x reader ♡ ────── tags : reader's gender, ethnicity, nationality, and appearance is not specified. NO SMUT (well yes smut but it's in flashbacks) but the diction is lowkey nasty here, do not read/interact if you are under 18 or i will find you and block you. morning after blablabla. not proofread sorry if this sucks. 18 PLUS 18 PLUS 18 PLUS. ♡ ────── wordcount : 616 ♡ ────── notes : vinicius junior pls stop it stop it stop IT. everyone go on madrid's instagram and look at their newest video promoting the new kit right now vini is so HOT when he smiled i literally came wtf. title and desc is based on chanmina's needy. inspired by this list by nightprompts! ♡ masterlist.

“D’you regret it?”

You blink, eyes adjusting to the bright sunlight filtering through the thin curtain of the hotel room.

For a second, you can’t remember where in the fuck you are—Ibiza, Miami, Paris, Rio de Janeiro, Madrid, blablabla. All the cities you’ve been to spin around in your dizzy head, trying to recall which nightclub it was that you spent the night rolling your hips and grinding your ass on anyone who’d give you an ounce of their attention.

“Huh?”

You rub your eyes as Vinícius turns on his chest, propping a pillow underneath his body. As you take in the features of his face, memories of the night before come crashing into you and you place a hand on his face, pushing him away the moment inhibitions begin blossoming in your chest. He wraps his fingers around your wrist and presses a short kiss on the base of your palm.

“The sex,” he clarifies, the edge of his lips tugging into a short smirk, letting your hand cup his face. “Was pretty good, huh?”

It comes in quick flashes: three of his thick digits stretching your hole as your nails dig into the skin behind his neck, prepping you up for just a finger too much. Not your fault the size of his cock intimidated you the moment you let it slip past your pretty lips, but damn, you should have made him put another finger inside before letting him fuck you.

But hindsight tells you that no amount of fingerfucking would have prepared for his body weight on yours anyway. With one hand gripping your hips as the other pins your hand against the bed, he fucked into you doggystyle, in his own pace, savoring every inch of your squelching walls around his shaft. And no matter how much you’d babble for him to go faster, he’d ignore you and continue pushing into you real nice and slow.

“Wasn’t,” you cover your eyes with your arms after a few moments of silence, feeling tiny under his wolfish gaze, like he’s prying into your mind and seeing for himself the recollection you have of your hip bucking up against his, thighs shivering with one leg over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he grins, murmuring your name as he holds himself up on his elbow, his face leaning into your neck, inhaling the sweet scent of your sweat as his. “I told you I’d make you feel good,” he nips at your neck, his fingers finding their way on your bare torso, still sensitive from his grip, “made you feel good, didn’t I?”

“Vinícius—”

“Come on,” he cuts you off, coaxing, “that’s not what you were calling me last night.”

You huff, not stopping his mouth from lapping on your skin. Instead, you place a hand on his chest and whimper as his palm slides down, landing on the curve of your ass, giving it a hard  squeeze.

“You should call me baby,” he suggests, “it’s hot when you call me baby.”

“Maybe,” you sputter, eyes fluttering close. His hand works towards your thigh, fingernails dragging against the thin skin. “Shoulda let you fuck me sooner.”

Vinícius chuckles, tracing his lips against your jaw, kissing the corner of your lips. “That’s what I’ve been tellin’ ya.”

“Shoulda listened,” you part your lips and grab his chin, pulling him in against your lips. “I’d consider calling you baby if you fuck me again. Like last night.”

He smiles against your lips, biting on them. “You’re makin’ me hard.”

“Gotta do it harder though, Viní.”

His eyes glisten, liking the challenging tone dripping on your words.

“Yeah?” His eyes travel down your body before meeting yours once again. “Deal.”

[lunnybunny12]

Blitz x Reader (patching him up)

Masterlist

REQUESTS OPEN

This is mostly word vomit but hope you enjoy it.

Blitz comes back from a job pretty beaten up.

"Hey, Loona? its getting late I'm gonna head home," you said, closing your computer.

"kay. See you tomorrow " she answered while still looking at her phone.

When you and Millie moved to the pride ring, nether of you expected to be working at I.M.P. Millie got a job there pretty much right away. She would always come home to your apartment frustrated because of the lack of organisation of jobs.

One day you decided to meet her at work and walked into chaos. piles and piles of paperwork strewed everywhere. You offered to help and the boss offered you a job. Its been a few years since then.

"Thank you." you chimed.

Just as you were about to go file away the last few documents and head home, the portal to Earth opened. Moxie and Milie came through with a few scratches but Blitz took one step and then fell flat on his face.

"Holey fuck what happened?" you asked picking up Blits and dragging him to a chair.

"OW! ow ow. Some fucker got me a few times" Blitz said through his teeth.

"I'll say" Millie huffed " The guy practically had him on the ropes"

You looked at Blitz who had a look on his face that read: angry and embarrassed.

" Ah Thank you, Millie. Ever the ray of sunshine" Blitz growled at her.

"Ha ha well... Sir we're going to call it a night. It's uh getting kind of late" Moxie nervously chuckled

"Yea. You all go home. I'll lock up and see you tomorrow"

After that Blitz shuffled himself into his office and closed the door behind him. A few drops of blood followed behind him.

"How... bad was he hurt?" you asked walking to get the first aid kit from the shelf.

"Not bad enough to go to the hospital but he was definitely shaken"

"You want me to help you patch him up?"

"Nah Loona I'll be fine. Could you keep an eye on him when he gets home?"

---------------

The second that door closed behind him Blitz silently screamed in embarrassment.

He got his ass kicked, fell flat on his face and had Millie make him look like an absolute idiot. AND HE DIDN'T EVEN KILL THE GUY!

And to make things worse it happened all in front of you. He could've melted into that chair.

Since you were hired the two of you have flirted back and forth originally for Blitz it was entirely work place banter. Something to piss off Moxie and to keep up moral but as time went on he started to like you more and more.

Blitz was brought back to reality when he heard a knock on the door.

"Hey handsome, how you doing?" you chimed, closing the door behind you.

He felt heat rush to his face.

"I thought you went home?" he chuffed

"nope. Can't have my favourite boss die. who would sign my paycheck?" you winked.

Blitz laughed "And here I was thinking you liked me for my dazzling personality"

You smiled and gave him a quick look over. he had a few cuts on his face and arms but no sign of where the blood could be coming from. His face was pretty red too.

"Come on pretty boy, can sit on the desk?"

He sent you a pained look.

"Well...it's either you sit on the desk or I sit on your lap"

"OOO is that supposed to be a threat, sweetheart? He smiled wiggling his eyebrows making you blush.

You rolled your eyes and helped him to the desk. It was a bit of a struggle to lift him up there.

"Wow, your desk is huge!"

"Yeah, I get that a lot " He was about to stretch but then recoiled in pain making the pair of you chuckle again.

A while later he was all bandaged up and the bleeding had stopped.

"Ok. I'm gonna clean the cuts on your face and then I'm taking you home."

"You don't have to do that "

"Yea well it's gonna happen and I don't wanna hear you complain about it. Plus it gives me an excuse to hang out with you longer so that's that."

You had a cotton pad with antiseptic hovering over his face.

"This is gonna sting a little but I need you to stay still"

"OW"

Your hand went under his chin to make him look at you. For a second your eyes locked. You could see so many emotions swirling around and you felt your face heat up.

"I-Im sorry" you stammerd

"Wha - no no you... do what you need to do"

That's when the pair of you saw the position you were in. You were stood between his legs. Your faces were inches away from each other and both your hands were on his face.

You both felt as if you were on fire.

Eventually, he swallowed his pride and asked "Can I uh... try something?"

You nodded.

He nervously wrapped his arms around your waist and brought you even closer into a hug. Suddenly ...his cuts didn't hurt anymore.

"Thank you, by the way. I haven't had someone care about me in a while"

A shakey sigh escaped you as you wrapped your arms around his shoulders to hug him back. Resting your head on top of his.

You both stayed like that for a while but you could've stayed there forever.

After you calmed down a little you guided his face to look at you again.

"Blitz?"

"Uh oh. You're using my name. Am I in trouble?"

Your face went red again " Do you wanna be?" you asked leaning in closer, your eyes flickering to his lips.

He quickly realized what you were talking about and he smiled the biggest grin you'd ever seen.

"Fuck yes"

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 3)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (3)

Masterlist (other parts here)

Jordan had a big smile on her face when she saw YFN. She pulled over at the front of her hotel and put the window down.

“Allo mate, need a lift?”

“I don’t have any money, sorry.”

Jordan opened her mouth in an amused and fake offended ‘O’. “You’re takin’ the mick.”

YFN laughed and slid into the passenger seat. “Do you charge by the hour or…?”

Jordan laughed loudly and slapped her arm. “Too expensive for you, mate.”

She began driving. YFN loved seeing this side of Jordan. The side that seemed much more natural, and much more of the Jordan that Lucy was describing last night.

“Wherrrrrre are we going?”

“I was thinking coffee and then shopping? Also, I’m assuming you don’t have any football gear to wear to the game tomorrow?”

“Hm, you are correct there.”

“Oh, Lucy is going to love seeing you in a Bronze jersey.”

YFN blushed and looked over, surprised.

“What? She loves seeing people in her jersey. Plus, you don’t know anybody else on the team, do you?”

“That’s a negative, and what number is she?”

“2.”

“Oh, my favourite. Okay, let’s get a Bronze jersey. Should we get the home or away kit?”

Jordan laughed. “Wow, look at you! Someone’s been doing their research!”

YFN grinned. “I love blue but the internet says something about it being a bad luck kit…?”

“Oh poppycock. Blue would be perfect with your eyes.”

YFN laughed. “Oh, and I also want an Australian flag.”

Although they only planned on a few hours, the two spent all day together. The atmosphere was great, they both bantered like they’d known each other for years. They wandered around town with iced drinks, stopped for breakfast, then lunch, and Jordan even taught her how to kick a soccer ball on an empty pitch, as well as teaching her some rules. YFN did try to incorporate some tackles to which Jordan gave her red cards for. They collected some free merchandise for the game from people in the club who Jordan knew and managed to find an Australian flag also. The day was fantastic, and of course they ended it on the beach with some fish and chips, Jordan making YFN try it with curry sauce. It confused the hell out of her, but she admitted it was decent.

The next day Jordan picked up YFN again early and they went for lunch. They had decided the day before that they wanted to catch up earlier before they headed to the game. At lunch, Jordan asked YFN about her job and what she did. She was a writer and loved to write fantasy. She’d been working for a newspaper before she left and had a very popular daily column with a lot of fans, but she left because she lost her passion for it. And so, she decided to travel to gain inspiration and get back into writing fantasy with the hope of publishing and travelling the world. Jordan was wowed by this and admitted to wishing she had the creativity for it. About five minutes later though, it seemed she had completely forgotten the conversation though, and had to ask again. YFN laughed, this had happened a few times with her the day before and so she lovingly gave Jordan the nickname ‘Dory’.

The seats for the game were in the perfect spot, just adjacent to where the team benches were. The two were dressed up, laughing at their awkwardness as they made their way down to their seats with arms of popcorn, hotdogs, and drinks. They reached their seats and were greeted by a loud man and his adorable family. YFN didn’t need a degree to figure out who it was. Jordan introduced him as Jorge Bronze, Lucy’s big brother, and his family. He gave Jordan a hug and kiss, and she picked up the kids and gave them kisses also. Jorge dragged YFN into a strong hug they took their seats next to them. It felt like a huge family affair and made YFNs heart swell with happiness. Her family life was not so joyful, and so this was a happy change. A few other friends came over to say hi to Jordan and she introduced them to YFN. They were friends, other football players, or partners of friends.

Shortly before the game, the teams ran out onto the field to warm up. The crowd seemed to yell extra loudly as Lucy came out onto the field, Jorge was the loudest of all. One kid in his arm and a drink in the other, he yelled at the top of his lungs “LUCYLUCY. LUCYLUCY.” Many people were yelling it like a chant, and Jorge recorded it for his social media. YFN couldn’t keep her eyes off of Lucy. She oozed confidence. Her dark hair was up in a messy bun, and she looked a bit different without her glasses, but a good different. YFN bit her lip, thinking her football gear was a welcome sight. She couldn’t help but see the muscles through her clothes, particularly the thigh muscles when she walked. Lucy jogged around without a care, chewing gum and laughing with her teammates. At one point in time, she even sat on a football and just watched as the others warmed up.

“Hey Dory, what’s she doing?” YFN asked Jordan.

Jordan leaned into YFN to yell over the crowd. “Who? Lucy? Oh, her knee is really bad. Like really, really bad. She’s had a lot of surgeries and she’s always in pain. She just tries to keep off it before and after games really.”

As if Lucy had heard them, she looked up and caught sight of her group. Her eyes wandered along her family who were crazily waving until she reached Jordan and YFN. She grinned when she saw YFN wearing her jersey with that little dimpled smile on her face. It suited her, she thought. Being in the crowd with her family and friends, wearing a Bronze jersey, and holding an Australian flag with pride. She and Jordan had painted the flag on their cheeks also, fully supporting their friend. Lucy wanted nothing more than to walk over and talk to them, but she knew she was supposed to be warming up. She settled for a big childish wave and re-joined her team.

Ten minutes later they left the field, Lucy waving at her section and grinning from ear to ear as she left. Soon enough after, the crowd roared as the teams entered the stadium, holding hands with their mascots. Lucy was last in line, swinging arms with her little mascot. They stood for the national anthems and after a quick team photo, the game was underway. YFN couldn’t tell if she was just biased, but it was pretty obvious to her that Lucy was the most intelligent on the field. When she didn’t see an opening she liked, she passed the ball back to the defender next to her who Jordan said was “Millie Bright – acting Captain.” She pushed up the field hard during the first half of the game, and very nearly scoring on several occasions.

“Wow, Lucy is ON FIRE today! LUCYLUCY!” Jorge shouted. “THAT’S MY SISTER!”

“I haven’t seen her play this good is a while!” Jordan shouted in YFN’s ear.

A long shot came towards the goal and Lucy was sprinting from nowhere, her speed was incredible. She leapt, heading the ball and the goalkeeper tipped it. The ball hit the crossbar and bounced back into play. One of Lucy’s teammates were in the perfect position for the rebound and struck the ball, side-netting it. The crowd groaned loudly.

“COME ON LESS!” Jordan yelled encouragingly.

“COME ON RUSSO! WHY IS LUCY OUR BEST STRIKER!” A yell came from behind them in the crowd.

YFN was confused. Jordan saw her confusion. “Lucy is a defender, not a striker. Not even a midfielder. She shouldn’t be the most dangerous striker for us today but she’s just playing so well. The other girls aren’t doing well enough to be honest.”

That made sense to her. Lucy was compensating for her team. All of her discussions with Jordan the day before about Lucy being overly competitive and not liking to lose were becoming more obvious. YFN loved it and joined in on the shouting for England’s number 2.

The whistle blew to signal half time and the scores were still 0-0. During the break the pair took Lucy’s niece and nephew up to the bathroom and brought back more snacks for the Bronze family. They settled back down when YFN noticed that Jordan was tense and uncomfortably shifting.

“What’s the matter?” YFN asked.

Jordan leant over to talk in her ear, not loud enough that anyone else would hear it. “My ex is here. A few rows behind us. She waved at me.”

YFN pulled back with wide, worried eyes. “Oh Jordan, are you okay?”

“I don’t know. We’re still friends and I think she’s a lovely person, but I just feel so uncomfortable right now. She going to want to try and speak to me after this.”

“And you don’t want to?”

“She going to try and speak to me like everything’s normal when it’s not. I don’t think I have the capacity.”

YFN put her arm around Jordan and pulled her close. “You need to tell her that you need space. Because right now, even though you’re replying the bare minimum to her, it’s still coming across like you’re okay to casually chat to her when you know you need your space to heal.”

“You’re right.” She groaned. “I just don’t want to come across nasty at all. She’s such a good person.”

“Protect yourself first. Heal a bit. And only then can you try to have normal conversations with her, hm?”

The teams came back out then, and the second half began. Jordan’s mood picked up as she was lost again in the screaming, but unlike YFN, she was yelling their names.

Lucy played even better the second half, giving so many chances to her teammates to score. She went down, hard at one point, literally tumbling over like a gymnast and the crowd seemed to think this was normal.

“NEVER A GOOD GAME UNLESS LUCY IS FLYING!”

“LUCIA!”

“LUCYLUCY!”

“BRONZEYYYYY!”

She got back up and jogged back over to her spot a bit stiffly. YFN was in awe of her resilience. Eventually the 90 minutes were up and they were given +2 minutes. Just when all seemed like it was about to be over, Lucy scored. And it was beautiful. Just like last time she came sprinting from absolutely nowhere however this time she volleyed the ball into the net, hard. So hard the net must have broken. The stadium erupted, they all leapt to their feet screaming at the top of their lungs. Jordan and YFN grabbed each other, jumping up and down. Popcorn flew all around. Lucy was bombarded by her teammates leaping onto her. Looking up at the big screen, YFN could better see the massive grin spread across her face. Of course she scored.

“GOAL FOR ENGLAND NUMBER 2, LUCY BRONZE!”

The stadium erupted again.

Play resumed for the last 20 seconds, and the whistle ended the match to a stadium still cheering for Lucy.

Jorge was again filming on his phone, kid in one arm and phone in the other. “AW TOO BAD SO SAD.” He cackled as he filmed the other team. YFN laughed at the absurdity of it. She looked around at the packed stadium. It was all insane.

“AND YOUR PLAYER OF THE MATCH IS… LUCY BRONZE!”

Lucy received even more yelling and applauses. She shook hands with both teams and then was dragged into an interview on the pitch while her teammates signed autographs and gave out some of their match worn gear to the crowd. When Lucy finished the interview, she immediately hobbled over to her section and jumped up to lean over the barriers. Jorge and her family got to her first and pulled her into big hugs and kisses. They took some selfies and then Lucy moved over to grab Jordan into an all-encompassing hug.

“I’m so proud of you.” Jordan cried, tears welling. Lucy grinned and pulled back, looking at YFN and opening her arms cheekily. YFN laughed and wrapped her arms around her in a tight, warm hug. Of course, Lucy’s hugs were amazing.

“I’m sorry, I probably don’t smell the best right now.”

“You smell like success to me.” YFN kept holding tight for as long as Lucy was, though Lucy was doing the same. They both gave up eventually so as to not give any wrong impressions to photographers or the crowd around them.

“Nice jersey. Would you like me to sign it?”

“Depends, how much would it be worth?”

Lucy rolled her eyes and took a sharpie from her brother. She shifted YFN’s hair back gently to sign her jersey over her collarbone. She couldn’t help but notice YFNs perfume. The same perfume that was on her hoody when she had given it back a few days before. A shiver went up her spine as she tried to focus on writing neatly.

“Mine too please!” Jordan quipped. Lucy signed her jersey also.

“Oh, and this please!” YFN held up her Australian flag. Lucy grinned, rolling her eyes again and signed her flag. YFN couldn’t help but stare at her, the big grin taking over her face, her hair curling at the sides where she’d been sweating, and those big green eyes. They locked eyes for a moment but both broke contact almost immediately as it affected them both so intensely. No way would they be able to keep it normal in front of so many people. They felt each other shiver and saw each other smile. Nobody seemed to notice.

“I hear there’s a dinner party tonight!” Jorge almost yelled.

“Ohhhh yeah. Family and friends. I told them you’d all be there. You’re all coming, right?” She looked at Jordan a little worried, presumably because her ex would be there.

Jordan looked at YFN. “Stuff it. Yeah, we’ll be there.”

[mysecretlittlelibrary]

Some Adjustment Necessary

Pairing: Platonic! Peter Parker & Reader; Reader x Bucky (but that's not really plot relevant)

Word Count: 2.1k

Warnings: uh none really just mentioning the tragedies MCU Peter has endured again lmao oh and he gets hit by a car but it's not as serious as it sounds I swear

Genre: it's still pretty fluffy- there's minor angst

Summary: You happen to be the only person who still remembers Peter Parker exists and you are not about to hang him out to dry. So what happens when you take Peter in and basically become his guardian? Well- nothing is simple where super-teens are involved, but you and Peter can certainly handle whatever comes your way. Right?

***

You and Peter adjusted pretty quickly to living together if you do say so yourself. And you actually really enjoy having him around. Not that you didn't before but suddenly becoming the full time guardian to an 18-year-old boy isn't something you ever saw in your future til it happened, so you're happy things are going well so far in the first couple of months. 

"Hey y/n I'm headed out for tonight." Peter announces barely stopping in the kitchen to talk.

"Alright, call if you need anything. I'll leave dinner on the counter." You shoot over your shoulder just before your front door shuts. Honestly, you were worried the Spiderman thing would be a bigger inconvenience than it is. So far the only thing you've had to discuss with him is not climbing in and out of his window because he has keys to your place and you already know his secret. It appears old habits die hard but now he just goes out the front door and hollers that he's leaving which is much simpler. Plus it eases your concern to know when he's leaving and how long he's out. He may be a superhero with crazy strength and whatnot but he is still pretty young and has been dealing with the most insane shit since he was still going through puberty.

With Peter out on his patrols and Bucky out of town visiting Sam and his family, you have the apartment to yourself and plan to take full advantage of the quiet with a movie marathon and some pasta you're just finishing up. Two helpings of pasta and three movies later- four if you count the one you're currently half asleep through, the sound of a thump against the door alerts you. You listen carefully to the jingle keys and the click of the door unlocking, your body relaxing when Peter comes stumbling through the entrance hall. Your reprieve is shortlived however as you take in Peter's state. He's covered in cuts and bruises and his clothes are tattered and dirty.

"Oh my god Peter what happened to you?!" You gasp jumping up from the couch and rushing to his side. He sags against you immediately and you have to half drag him to the couch to set him down. "Hang on I'll go get the first aid kit." You say leaving him "What did I say to you before you left? Call if you need anything. I even programmed an emergency call system into your suit. How did this happen?!" You look over him frantically trying to assess what needs immediate attention.

"I wasn't patrolling." He groans. You take a warm washcloth first, wiping the blood and grime off of his face.

"You weren't patrolling?" You frown.

"No. I was in Manhattan hanging with some guys and I-"

"What did you do? Piss off a gang?" You suck your teeth.

"No, no, I made some friends who go to NYU, you know because we talked about me going to college and stuff, and after we hung out I was on the way home and got hit by a car."

"You got hit by a car?!? How the hell did that happen?" You blink at him.

"It came speeding around a corner and hit me. Some guy in red pulled me off the asphalt and left me in the hands of random bystanders and then ran after the car." Peter hisses.

"Daredevil." You say.

"Hm?"

"The guy in red. Hell's Kitchen has its own vigilante, they call him Daredevil. I'm guessing it was him." You explain.

"Oh. Does he always chase cars?" Peter's voice is strained but still, you laugh a little at the question.

"I- wouldn't know kiddo. I can't believe you got hit by a car. If he left you with some random 'bystanders' who I'm sure thought you needed a hospital, how did you get here?" You ask.

"I hobbled down a couple of alleys until I lost them, put on the suit, and swung home." He explains.

"You swung home?" Your eyes widen.

"Yeah, which- I don't recommend. That sucked."

"I'm sure walking here would've sucked too. Does anything feel broken?" You gently press against his ribs.

"No- just bruised, maybe a couple of cracks nothing that won't be better in a day or two." He says.

"Oh Peter." You say. "I made pasta. Did you eat with your friends? Do you want some food?"

"I'd love some pasta." He sighs.

"Okay I'll heat some up for you. If I helped you to the bathroom do you think you could manage a shower?" You ask.

"I think I got it." Peter slowly forces himself off of the couch and you watch him carefully hobble towards the bathroom. Only once he's out of sight do you go to the kitchen to prepare him some of the food you made earlier. You wait for Peter to make it out of the bathroom and bring his plate to him in his room. You set him up with extra pillows and blankets and you're admittedly fussing over him but it's hard not to when he comes limping into your home.

"Do you need anything else? Water? Bandages?" You ask.

"Y/n you're doting."

"Of course, I am you got hit by a car." You scoff.

"And in 24 hours I'll be fine!"

"Sure sure, actually just so we're clear you will not be patrolling tomorrow night."

"Oh come on-" Peter groans.

"Don't start. You didn't patrol tonight, which you should've told me but, New York will survive one more evening without Spiderman. Actually, perhaps tomorrow we can discuss this NYU thing. I thought your heart was set on MIT."

"I- can't leave New York." He shrugs, avoiding your gaze as he eats his food.

"Yes, you can. And if MIT is where you want to go you absolutely have to leave New York." You frown. "New York has been around long before you became Spiderman and there are several heroes in and around New York we will be fine in your absence. Not to mention that suit of yours could get you here in like 20 minutes if we needed you so desperately." You say.

"MJ and Ned go there." He mutters quietly.

"What?"

"To MIT. They originally didn't get in and it was my fault so I tried to fix it and then my whole world fell apart but not knowing me means they got in. They go to MIT, and I can't ruin that for them." Peter shakes his head.

"Ruin it for them?"

"Well yeah- what if somehow we end up talking to each other in college and the cycle begins again and I ruin their lives in a big way like I almost did with their college opportunities?" He frowns at his bowl and you sigh.

"I think you three are destined to know each other. They'll find you again one day- even if you're trying to hide from them." You say running a hand through his hair.

"I can't lie to her, not again."

"Then don't. At least not forever. You could absolutely tell her the truth in time if it came down to it."

"She'd never believe me." He says.

"She did the first time."

"Yeah but 'I'm Spiderman' and 'we've known each other for years and were in a relationship, and you don't remember because I made the entire world forget who I am' are not even close to the same. She'd probably assume I was a crazy stalker if I told her the truth." He scoffs.

"You'd start with Spiderman, I imagine she'd be much more open to the other things once you prove you're Spiderman. There's much she doesn't know about the world." You say.

"It's just too complicated." Peter shakes his head.

"Peter, I don't want you to think that because you are Spiderman you have to stop being Peter Parker. You were Peter Parker first and you can't lose yourself because of that suit." You say softly.

"I dunno, I tried and- well it didn't end up too great before you showed up." He says.

"We'll continue this conversation later, but Peter. You have to at least apply to MIT. Don't spoil your chances because you're afraid of some possibilities. You gotta do things anyway." You tell him.

"I'll think about it." He mutters.

"That's a start. Enjoy your pasta, rest up. Yell if you need anything." You say gently patting his shoulder and leaving his room.

~*~*~

"Hey, y/n I'm headed- oh- hi Mr. Barnes. I didn't realize you'd be here." Peter comes careening down the hall.

"Kid you can call me Bucky." Bucky says and you chuckle.

"You're headed where Peter?" You ask.

"Just- out." Peter glances at Bucky.

"With friends this time or-"

"No, not this time. Just out on my own." Peter waves his hand and you almost miss the way his two middle fingers curl briefly the way he does for webs.

"Alright well be safe and if you need anything call. And I mean it. Another incident like two weeks ago and I'll have to start watching you with a witch's glass." You warn.

"Yeah yeah I'll call if I need to, see ya later! Bye Mr. Bucky." Peter says before rushing out the door. You catch the way Bucky's face twists in confusion at Peter's goodbye and giggle.

"That kid is so strange." Bucky shakes his head.

"Most teenagers are." You nod.

"What happened two weeks ago?" He asks.

"Hm?"

"You said a repeat of two weeks ago would have you watching him through a witch's glass. What are we hoping not to repeat from two weeks ago?" Bucky asks.

"Oh- Peter ended up hurt and instead of calling me he hobbled his broken ass back home from Hell's Kitchen." You roll your eyes.

"Was this while I was away? You didn't mention it."

"Well yeah, why would I? He was better before you got back. I just don't want it happening again." You shrug.

"You know you can't possibly monitor everything he does, right?"

"Oh I have no interest in doing that but the kid has had a hyper independence problem since he was like 14 and I need him to understand how to use a support system. We are undoing trauma."

"You- also have a-"

"Ah ah this isn't about me it's about Peter. I want better for him than he's had." You cut Bucky off knowing exactly what he's about to say.

"You really care about this kid."

"Of course I do. I'm his guardian now and it's my job to do the best I can for him. Kids don't ask to be here and it's not fair how often they suffer the consequences of someone else's actions."

"I didn't realize you felt so strongly about the subject."

"We've never really talked about kids." You shrug.

"Do you want them?" His question sounds hesitant, as if he's not sure he wants the answer.

"I dunno. I think it'd be nice. To have a family. But it's- not a number one priority. I guess it depends. Have you given it any thought?" You ask.

"I don't think I'd be good at it." He shakes his head.

"I disagree. I think you're kind and patient and you may not see those traits in yourself but I see them every day in the way you interact with strangers, with me, your tales with Steve from the 30s, even the way you are with Peter-"

"I don't even talk to Peter." Bucky scoffs.

"No, but you pay attention when he speaks, you know his idiosyncracies, you've helped me with things that are for him, you even accommodate that he's staying here when you make plans for us. That's a lot of consideration that many people wouldn't offer. I think you'd make a wonderful father, if that's ever something you'd like." You shrug.

"I dunno, I'd have to give it some thought." He frowns.

"Like I said, it's not a top priority right now. You can decide that whenever you're ready. And no matter what you decide we'll be good. But if you're interested in testing the waters you could always try actually connecting with Peter."

"Oh no, I told you when he first got here that you couldn't make me talk to him." Bucky shakes his head.

"I'm not making you do anything baby it's just a suggestion because I think you'd both benefit from it." You say and you mean it. Peter has always looked up to Bucky, though you can't tell Bucky that, and you think Peter would love a chance to do more than admire from afar.

"And how would he benefit from it? He's terrified of me." Bucky says.

"No, he isn't."

"He just called me Mr. Bucky after I told him he didn't have to use my last name." Bucky points out and you chuckle a little.

"Believe it or not, he's called me Miss Y/n for years. Even up until he moved in. It doesn't mean he's scared of you, he's just being respectful." You say.

"I- will consider talking to him. But I make no promises."

"You don't need to. I just want the two guys in my life to be able to do more than awkwardly sidestep each other in my kitchen." You laugh.

"I'll keep that in mind sweetness." Bucky chuckles. You don't know what's going to come of your light encouragement but there's very little Bucky wouldn't do for you, so you imagine this will only result in something good.

***

Tagged Users: @mrsbuckybarnes1917 @buchi91

[mmimagine-40]

Pup pt. 4

Alpha!Steve Rogers x Omerga!FReader

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 “FINE! Lets hear it! What excuse do you have for ghosting that poor innocent girl!” Nat finally says. The way she said it he just knows that shes standing there with her arms crossed with her pissed off pout she did. “Before I was suppose to leave for the date, I was in the woods looking for some fire wood as I had time to kill. While in the woods I stumbled a pound this omega who needed help. She was hiding from this Alpha casing after her. The threats and things he was saying to her. She wasn’t safe. Well trying to get away from him she tripped and messed up her ankle really bad. So I scared off the alpha and have been helping her. Her ankle is bad. She can’t even walk,”, Steve explains as he digs through his closet for an old jacket she could wear. The silence on the phone, he can tell Nat was touched by that. Nat being an omega shes also seen her fair share of bad Alphas and how they treat Omegas. Its what made her , her. Nat was so strong and tough. Not afraid to take any alpha down. And she can too in seconds. Thats what made Bucky fall for her. Even if Bucky is an Alpha and Nats an Omega its not bucky you have to be worried about it Nat. “Is she okay?” Nat finally spoke up on the phone. Steve sighed as he pulled out the old careheart out of the closet one he hasn’t worn since college days. “I mean you can tell shes been through a lot. Plus with her ankle she not in a good state. She also told me she has no one. I offered her to stay here as she heals and help her get on her feet. I’m taking her to Bruces now to check out her ankle.”. “Do you need anything from us to help?” Bucky asked. “Yeah actually if yall can meet me at Bruces office in about 20 mins. I’m going to give you my card and a list of things I need if y’all could run and get them for me. I don’t want to drag her around town with a bad ankle. On top of that alpha is still out there looking for her.”. Steve ask as he puts on his shoes and grabs the jacket and a jacket for himself. “Yeah no problem we will see you in a bit.”. Nat says as they say goodbye and hang up. Steve walks back into the living room to see Y/n was done with her list and had sat up more moving all the blankets and Pillows to the side. Steve set the jackets to the side as he grabbed the first aid kit. Grabbing the wrap out of it and gently holding her leg as he began to wrap it.  “Let me know if its too tight pup”. Y/n nodded as she watched him. “Steve?”. “Yeah?” He asked as he briefly looked up at her. A little taken back by her saying his name. Mainly taken back by how much he liked hearing his name come from her month. “Why do you keep calling me pup?”. She asked. Y/n wasn’t too upset. She kind of liked the name. Well she liked the way it sounded coming from Steve. Steve kind of shrugged as he finished up the wrap and grabbed her old shoes. Putting the one on the good foot. “I don’t know. I mean you do seem a bit younger then me but I can tell your older then 20. I guess its this look you have. Even after everything you have been through you have this soft look to you. Almost like an innocent pup look.If it bothers you then I can stop.”. He says as he grabbed the jacket and helped her put it on. “Thats okay you don’t have to stop I was just wondering.”. Steve smiled down at her softly. “Okay well pup lets go”. He hold his hand out for her after putting his jacket on. Helping her to stand. “Do you want to try to walk or just my carry you?”. “Can I just lean on you as I hobble? I don’t think I can put pressure on this but my other leg feels stiff.” Y/n asked. Which Steve nodded to. He hunched over as she wrapped an arm around his neck. As he held around her waist. Being careful to not make her feel uncomfortable. He walked slow with her letting her hobble out of the cabin and to the truck. Which he help her up into. After she was in and buckled he drove them to town. It was a bit of a drive from the cabin in the woods down to the small town. The town wasn’t that big. Pretty spaced out.

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Tags:

@vicmc624

[st4rgiirll]

injuries

anthony lockwood x injured!gn!reader

warnings: blood, fluff!, lockwood being incredibly full of himself (as per usual)

synopsis: you cut your hand with your rapier while tracking down a ghost, having been caught off guard. lockwood comes to your rescue, patching you up once you arrive back home.

a/n: im so srry its short, i had no motivation but i did at the same time. i also changed the plot half way through writing and i couldn't be bothered to change the first half.

lucy, lockwood and you walk through the door, you were lucky lucy carries around a small emergency first aid kit, you would've thought you'd bleed out by the time you got back to 35 portland row.

lockwood grips your unhurt wrist, dragging you softly up the stairs to the bathroom. you hop up onto the counter and wait for lockwood to gather the supplies he needed.

he eventually finds them, after a few minutes of rummaging around the bathroom. he gently grips your injured hand, being extremely cautious.

lockwood wraps your hand lightly, careful not to hurt you. "i thought you were supposed to be an expert with your rapier..." he teases.

"i got scared, she just jumped infront of me and i got startled.." you roll your eyes. "technically wasnt my fault."

"i think that means it is your fault, darling," lockwood tells you, smiling at your response. still, he keeps tending to your wound, being sure to avoid hurting you any further.

"you know, i wouldn't have been scared of that ghost," he says, trying to comfort you by showing how brave (and also just awesome) he is.

"full of yourself much locky?" you smirk with a small blush on your face, knowing how annoyed he got by people calling him that.

he only ever let one person call him 'locky' and he told you many great stories of her, of flo bones. the legend herself.

he smirks in response to your retaliation.

"plus, the ghost had an ugly face" you shrug. "AND she just randomly popped up infront of me, she could've touched me and you would be sobbing so hard over me." you tease, a small smile on your face since you knew he would be upset.

you and lockwood had been in a relationship for a few months now, it was fairly new but you knew you loved eachother. you didnt want to wait for anything, any of lockwood and co. could die at any moment, you prefer to spend as much time as humanly possible with all of them, which is fairly easy since you all live together.

he chuckles a bit, even he knew it would be true.

"well, good thing you arent dying on me any time soon." he says, he seems to be reassuring himself with the statement.

you smile at him as he finishes up wrapping your hand.

"thanks locky." you laugh, hopping off the counter.

"i love you y/n." he smirks, you blushed.

he knew exactly how to get you to blush, he was quite proud of the fact honestly.

"i love you too." you smile, reaching up to kiss his cheek.

"why're you so lanky?" you mutter, pulling away from his cheek.

"i dont know love, genetics i guess." he winks.

"well, m' gonna thank genetics for making you so handsome" you say.

"im gonna have to thank em' for making you so perfect love" he smiles, leaving you standing in the bathroom a blushing mess.

[kai-anderson-whore]

Hi! Could you write an angst where Kit takes the punishment for reader in the asylum similar to that scene with grace inside Sister Jude's office?

Please and thank you <3

Yes of course so I decided to go off from the scene and write from there hope you enjoy <3

I’d take the brunt of it (kit walker x reader)

Summary: you planned to escape the asylum with Lana but she didn’t want kit to tag along so she snitched on you both.

Warnings: angst, punishment, caned, asylum, mentions of divorce, escaping the asylum, shouting. Let me know if I have missed anything

Word count: 1,1k

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You spent almost every moment of your day sat on an old chair in the common room watching everyone studying them, but all you could see was how different they were to you. They were insane or have severe mental health issues that means they can be within the public. You weren't supposed to be in here only because your now ex husband placed you in here before he had divorced you.

You hated it here. You felt like you were beginning to go insane with everything staring at the same faces the same rooms, same mistreatment and that song on repeat for four years. You were sick and tired until he came along. Kit Walker everyone knew him as bloody face the horrendous man that killed those women including his own wife.

But to you he was just Kit, the sweet caring person that never showed any killer signs. You knew from the moment you laid eyes on him he was innocent. That's how you became friends. You taught him everything he needed to know to survive this god forsaken hellhole. Another thing you taught him was that you couldn't escape.

But kit was determined to escape this place if it even means he goes out here dead. You knew there was no way out everyone knew until you both met Lana winters. You became friendly with her she promised a way out for you both but you didn't want to leave without kit.

"No he's not coming with us for Christ sake he's a god damn murder" Lana seethed through her teeth in a hushed yet harsh tone. "I'm not leaving without him Lana he's innocent I know he is" you sighed sticking up for kit. "How do you know what are you both together or something because he wouldn't be in here if he wasn't" Lana snapped at you rolling the dough with the rolling pin.

"So what if we are, plus your in here through blackmail I'm in here because my ex husband put me in here so I don't get his money from the divorce guess we are all in here for the wrong reasons" you proved a point your hands aching from needing the dough. "I said no and that's final" Lana stated ending this conversation.

But you waited till the time had come to escape the asylum. Something was happening within the asylum everyone's attention was somewhere else you grabbed kit's hand running for the doors "what are you doing bringing him y/n" the anger in lana's voice didn't bother you, your target only being getting through those doors into freedom.

"He's coming lana if you like it or not" you said dragging kit rushing to those doors. "HELP HE'S ESCAPING, THE KILLER IS ESCAPING HELP ME" Lana screamed. You and kit turned back trying to get Lana to stop but before you knew it two guards pinned you both to the ground. You felt the defeated you were so close yet so far from the freedom you deserved.

Everything was a blur to you. You couldn't remember what happened after that all you remember was being dragged to sister Jude's office by the guards kit behind you. "Well, well, well look who it is the escape artists" sister Jude tutted with a wicked smirk on her face. You hung your head low fearful for the punishment you both would receive.

You heard the door open you turned your head to see Lana there with a guilty look on her face. "You snitch you know we both don't deserve to be here why Lana" you yelled in anger. Your blood boiled even looking at her as she just stared at her feet in guilt. Kit just watched you kicking off till sister Jude stopped you. "Stop this y/n" she warned.

You and kit's bodies leaned against the cold wood, scrunching your eyes shut awaiting for the horrifying punishment you will receive. Your hospital gown exposing you from the back you heard sister Jude thanking Lana for her honesty. "Now as a reward I want you to pick what cane to use" you heard footsteps from behind. Turning your head to see sister Jude opening the cabinet revealing the selection of canes one more taunting than the other.

Lana picked out a thin cane holding it up to sister Jude for somewhat of an approval which she only sniggers at. "Your too kind Lana banana" she says picking a much thicker one making her way to you. "Twenty each that seem fair enough" sister Jude calls out you felt the cold wood against the back of your thighs just as she pulled the cane away, your eyes scrunched shut holding your breath waiting on the punishment.

"Wait sister Jude y/n had nothing to do with it she didn't want to leave I dragged her I should be the one getting punished not her" kit spoke up standing straight your eyes shot wide open. "Very well then that means 40 for you mr walker but miss y/l/n you watch as a reminder if you ever step out of line" sister Jude stated waving the cane around.

You slowly got up making your way to stand by Lana the fear still filled within your eyes. Sister Jude raised her cane to kit smacking the wood on the backs of his knees. You saw the pain in his eyes but he never cried out in pain, but his face didn’t fail to show how much pain he was in. The tears falling down your cheeks you wished it was you receiving the punishment instead of him.

With each smack you flinched, the sound of the cane smacking off his skin seemed to get louder and louder till all 40 hits were completed. His skin red raw almost bleeding “take them to the common room” sister Jude dismissed all of you getting took back to the common room. The same song still played you stayed close to kit helping him to sit down.

“AHHH” kit practically screamed as he sat on the chair. “Slowly kit” you said helping him out the tears still falling down your face, kit saw you crying not even caring if he’s in pain. “Hey are you okay” he asked wiping your tears with the pads of his thumb. You shook your head sniffling “no I’m so sorry kit you shouldn’t have taken the blame for me it was all me yet you got the brunt of it all, I feel so guilty” you sobbed lightly.

“I wouldn’t want you getting caned I’d gladly do it again if it means you won’t get hurt” kit smiled trying to make you feel better. “We were so close” you whispered resting your head on his shoulder. “We’ll get out here one day I promise” kit whispered back taking your hand in his. “I hope so”.

[riverbankofclay]

Sorry for disappearing for two days, but I do have something to show for it! I present to you my solarballs x warrior cats au thing! It may be a bit different than canon clans, but I had to so Mecury and Venus wouldn't be in clans by themselves.

I'll prob change them in the future and ignore the height. AND FUCK I MIXED UP MARS AND VENUS DESIGNS WHEN DRAWING MARS, IGNORE THE COLLAR

In order, Mecury, Mars, Venus, Venus's quasi moon and Earth.

I tried, okay? It's hard to translate Earth into a cat. He looks better without the shading. I gave him a mix of grey and blueish grey fur, maybe it's from a lack of the colour gene thingy. I put the blue and green in his eyes.

I had to remake venus cause his og patterns stood out too much

Tiny bit of info for the stories:

Solarclan is led by SunStar (real creative, I know), but the clan is spilt up into 12 sections, 1 for each of the planets and anything orbit around them plus Pluto cause he was only demoted semi-recently, one for the sun and one for each of the belts.

Mecury's and Venus's belts are also solely used for storage as they have no moons. (I have a story for venus's quasi moon when I draw them).

Each planet is in charge of their own section, and they rule over their moons. The dwarf planets' sections were merged together when the rules for planets were created, Pluto's bit of the story will revolve around around this.

I might add more later

Little backstory for the cats cause I love angst and traumatising everything lol

Mecury = TinyMoray

Mecury was found at about three moons old with many wounds, making his fur sticky with blood. (Proto rocky planets were all in a rogue group, more about that in a later post) Sun took him in and raised in the clan, due to this Sun would be sort of a heli-copter friend. As a kit, Mecury was very weak and prone to illness, but (thanks to Uranus, who would be sort of like the healers in the tribe of rushing water) he slowly began to stablize.

Now he's spends his time at Sun's side and wondering where he came from.

Mars = RedMoorlands

Mars was from the same rogue group as Mecury and the others and arrived two months after Mecury, dragging an almost dead Earth behind. He spent most of his kithood with Earth, messing around and pranking the others before he eventually grew out of it when he came back one day with three kits. After his largest kit's death, he became more friendly and protective to his remaining two after seeing how the others treated their kits (gas/ice giant's moons).

Venus = MorningVoids

Venus was a part of the Rocky planet rogue group but disappeared soon after the fire that disbanded the group. He was taken in by twolegs and lived a comfortable life until he found himself on the streets with nothing but his kit.

He wandered for many days before coming across Solarclan. The sun took him in, and Mars immediately recognised him. To his horror, he found that a pawful of cats from the rogue group were in the clan, but they barely seemed to remember.

Now, he is desperately trying to keep his kit a secret. What if the others find out and use her to attack? But Mars and Luna are starting to get suspicious. Why would Venus spend so much time alone in his sector.

I just love giving my favourite characters trauma, lol. Also, he lost a leg, 2nd au I made where he did.

524522 Zoozve = ZaffrePaw

Zoozve us Venus's only kit. She doesn't remember much of her past other than the dangers of the thunderpath and watching her father nibble off his leg to escape from a bear trap. She's very anxious and jumpy, she doesn't know any other cats and she'd like to keep it that way, why wouldn't she? They would just hurt her and her dad.

Fan fact: I have two au, including her, and she's the complete opposite. Manipulative child to anxious Ravenpaw child

Earth = Nature's Eolith (name may change, can't find many good words starting with E and ending in H, no I am not using earth)

Earth was in the same rogue group as the other rocky planets but lost all his memories of it after the fire. All he remembers is his life in the valley. He always wondered how he and the other rocky planets got their scars (mars and his scars are after the cut-off). He hates that he got stuck with all the little kits (his quasi moons) Luna found in the territory.

That's all for the backstories for now.

Here's a map of the territories

I was going to make the territories be where they orbited in the solarsystem with sun living on the bit of land outside the gathering place, but I decided against it. Pluto's refusing to merge his territory with the other dwarf planets cause he's in denial.