#my dude i was like three years old when i lived there

[rosetta-j-stone]

In other news I dreamt that Nace was asking me for my advice about moving to the US. Riddle me that one, dream analysis experts.

[why-animals-do-the-thing]

I promised you some lions! Let's talk about manes, males, and management.

This is Tandie, the current male lion at the Woodland Park Zoo.

Notice anything odd about him? He's got one of those hilarious awkward teenager manes. Except... this cat is nine years old.

I was, of course, immediately curious.

Manes serve a lot of purposes for male lions, including being an indicator of health and fitness - it's actually a sexually selected trait and a social signal. Mane texture / hair quality / length is dependent on nutrition and the body having energy to grow (and carry around!) that much hair! The color is also a signal: males with darker manes have been found to have higher testosterone levels.

In one research report, wild males were much more likely to avoid a lion decoy when it had a longer or darker mane - but the girls really loved a dark mane. It's thought this is because a long, dark mane is an indicator of mate quality. Males with longer, darker manes have higher testosterone and were pretty healthy: meaning they had more energy for fighting, had a better chance of recovering if they got injured, and generally had a higher rate of offspring survival. Manes matter!

So, back to Tandie. He was actually born at the Woodland Park Zoo in 2014 alongside two brothers, to dad Xerxes and mother Adia.

This was Xerxes (rip).

Obviously, a very large, dark, lush mane on Xerxes here. So where did these blond muttonchops come from on his son?

I asked the zoo docents and got an answer that didn't make a lot of sense. They told me that after the three cubs grew into adolescents, they were moved to the Oakland Zoo together. But living together suppressed his testosterone, and he never grew a mane.

Hmmmm.

Here's a photo from 2016, when the brothers debuted at Oakland. They're a year and a half old in this photo.

(Photo Credit: Oakland Zoo)

And here's from an announcement for their third birthday.

(Photo credit: Oakland Zoo)

Okay, so these dudes obviously all were growing manes as of 2017. I think Tandie is the one on the left in the first photo, and laying down in the middle on the second. What happened?

I was just in the Bay Area for a zoo road trip, of course I went to Oakland and tracked down a docent to ask some questions.

It turns out that shortly after the brothers turned three, they started acting like adult male lions: they started scuffling regularly. It's a normal social thing for male lions to live in groups, called coalitions, but according to my lion experts there's generally a baseline level of some social jostling within them. It wasn't quite clear from what the docent said if they couldn't manage the boys together, or if they just wanted to avoid the scratches and small wounds that result from normal lion behavior. Regardless, they put all three of the boys on testosterone blockers in order to be able to keep them together as a social group.

Now, I don't know a lot about the use of hormone alteration as a form of captive animal management, except in the case of birth control. I don't think it's something that's unethical - there was just a webinar on it that I saw go by - but I don't think it's commonly done with big cats. Lions have kind of complicated reproductive cycles, and for instance, we've been learning that female lions can take much longer to come into estrus again than expected after coming off hormonal birth control.

In males, testosterone blockers (or being neutered) means they lose their manes. This is why a lot of rescues will do a vasectomy on their males instead of a neuter - it allows them to keep their mane and the social signals that accompany it.

Tandie returned home to Woodland Park Zoo after Xerxes passed in early 2022, and the docent told me all of the lions had been off their blockers "for while." I'd guess those things happened around the same time, since bringing the trio down to a duo at Oakland would reduce some of the social tensions.

Hormones are such interesting things, though. One of Tandie's brothers has a full mane again, and the other is still totally mane-less.

As for Tandie, his mane is growing back in, and it looks like he might rival his dad for length and coloration.

He started here, in February:

Yesterday:

What a difference four months (and maybe proximity to a girl) makes!

[leilanihours]

Anything with Kate Martin pleaseee!

# GOLD RUSH

pairing: kate martin x teammate!reader

word count: 1780

warnings: none !

summary: kate being the cutest most adoring girlfriend ever while you get ready on live.

⭑ from lani: this was heavily inspired by this video bc kate actually might be the cutest human to ever walk the earth ty

masterlist !

"WHAT IS UP guys, welcome back to yet another game day prep," you greet to the camera propped against the mirror in front of you, "today we are going up against lsu, so there's gonna be a lot of tension in the arena today."

user1: hi y/nnnn

user2: is caitlin there?

user3: team lsu lol

user4: y/n what shampoo/conditioner do u use??

it's become a tradition for you to go live and do a little "get ready with me" on the most highly-anticipated gamedays, as you wanted to get fans excited for the face-off.

the first one you hosted got lots of love, viewers falling in love with your bubbly personality and witty remarks to your teasing teammates.

you were currently in your hotel bathroom, one you shared with your teammate, gabbie marshall. but all the girls have borderline separation anxiety, leading to half the team hanging out in your room as you all prepare yourselves for the game.

"are you on live?" you hear a voice whisper. turning your head, you see kate peeking hers into the bathroom a small smile on her face.

"yeah," you reply sweetly, "you wanna say hi?"

she nods, immediately sliding the door open to join you.

"looks like we have a special cameo today, folks, y'all got lucky," you laugh

"hi, live, how you guys doin?" kate says.

as you begin doing your skincare, you see kate take a seat on the closed toilet in the corner, carefully observing your routine.

"you okay, babe?" you ask with a grin once you notice her puppy-dog like stare. the nickname slips from your lips like first nature, appearing cordial to the camera but the two of you know the hidden meaning.

user1: help kate looks so starstruck wtf shes adorable

user2: omg wait i use that same moisturizer

user3: "BABE"?

user4: not kate just sitting on a damn toilet LMAOO

you and kate have always been close, ever since your freshman year at iowa. on the court you two bounce off of each other's energy constantly, frequently managing to raise the stakes of the game.

fans have noticed it too, of course, with proud taps after one of you makes a shot and suspiciously long post-game hugs.

the team is fully aware of your private relationship, respecting your wishes of secrecy. there have been pointed questions from reporters and interviewers, but you all know how to dodge a personal question one way or another.

a few minutes go by of you telling a funny story from the bus ride to the hotel, consisting of caitlin getting caught on video singing horribly off-key. with promises of posting the recording later that evening, you and kate both laugh at the memory.

as you start on your light makeup look, you begin reading some comments popping up on your screen.

user1: thoughts on reese and clarks rivalry??

user2: wheres caitlin and gabbie

user3: y/n can u say hi alyssa

user4: what are your guys' top 3 music artists

"'thoughts on reese and clark's rivalry?'" you read, "i mean, they've said it before, there's no bad blood between them, just some good old basketball competition," you state with a small smile as you start blending in a light layer of skin tint.

"yeah, i mean some light-hearted teasing and trash-talking always makes a game more fun in my opinion," kate chimes in, "especially when it leads to an increase in viewership."

"for sure, for sure," you smirk at her in the corner of your eye, sneakily suggesting your own dating rumors circulating before every game.

"'top three music artists?'" kate reads, "dude, mine changes 24/7 so i have no idea anymore."

"ooo," you contemplate the question as you look up in thought, "gotta be taylor swift...sza...anddd frank ocean? no, kehlani! wait actually-"

"i don't think you know either, y/n," kate laughs.

"oh whatever," you say, rolling your eyes playfully, "speaking of music, can you put some on?"

"i gotchu," kate responds, picking up her phone to connect to the bluetooth speaker on the counter.

soon enough, you hear the familiar tune of "gold rush" by taylor swift, a song publicly known to be your favorite (kate knows this, naturally, which is why she played it first).

once she notices your stretched grin and quiet hum to the lyrics, she mirrors your expression, feeling light in her chest at the sight of your happiness.

she stands up from her spot on top of the toilet seat, slowly coming up behind you to observe you even closer.

the two of you make eye contact in the mirror, immediately blushing and smiling like madmen. and, of course, nothing goes unnoticed by the live watchers so comments of you two rush in.

user1: aww the way they smile at each other im crying

user2: okay when is it my turn to get a gf like y/n or kate 😢

user3: not kate stealing my gf..

user4: they gotta be dating right??

you and kate scan over the messages, trying to keep a straight face as to not give away anything.

"kate can you do me a favor and get my setting spray from my suitcase? its in a clear bottle with a pink cap," you ask her, but shes too entranced by your beauty to hear.

"sorry, what was that?"

you giggle, "my setting spray please?"

"oh! okay, be right back, guys!"

you return your focus to your makeup and the song playing, the melodies too addicting for you to not sing along.

as kate comes back into the fairly spacious bathroom, you thank her for getting your spray, placing it on the marble counter. she reclaims her spot behind you, continuing to watch you work as if you were the most interesting movie she'd ever seen.

she wishes she could place her arms around your waist and rest her chin on your shoulder to whisper sweet words into your ear. sadly, for the sake of your private relationship, she had to settle for admiring from afar (which is really only like a foot away from you).

"y/n!" you hear one of the girls call out from the bedroom, "can i borrow your eyebrow gel? i forgot mine in my room!"

"sure, it's in here, come grab it!" you yell back. a few seconds later, jada comes sauntering into the bathroom, immediately taking notice of kate's presence and the phone displaying your every action.

"oh my gosh, heyy livee," she smiles, waving her fingers at the camera.

user1: omg jada ilysm

user2: still waiting on catilin tbh

user3: JADA!!

user4: my fav girls :((

as you apply small amounts of blush to your cheeks, jada stands next to you fixing up her eyebrows wih your gel. and, yes, kate is still behind the both of you. she has begun to fix her hair into her signature ponytail braid, quickly maneuvering her dirty-blonde locks with ease after working the style for so long.

"my teammates are so prettayy," she exclaims to the livestream once she'd finished with her hair.

"you're prettyy," jada replies, singing.

"pretty beautiful," kate sings back while you're simply giggling at the girls' antics.

you're too concentrated on curling your lashes correctly to notice that kate was specifically gazing at you with that last comment, nothing but pure love and admiration behind her words.

jada, who is now out of the frame and catching kate's longing stare in your direction, turns around to face her, mouthing: "you're so whipped."

kate playfully shoves her out the bathroom and returns to her former seat on the toilet.

"okay, guys, sorry we haven't been talking to y'all that much," you say as you step back from the mirror, "the last step of my makeup look is to apply some setting spray that, thankfully, the lovely kate martin has gotten for me."

"wait, can i do it?" kate asks, eager to help you out.

"yeah, come over here," you respond.

kate shoots up and over to you and takes the bottle from your hand. her fingers brush against yours for a split second, sending a tingly feeling throughout your body. at this point, you don't even need to put blush on, kate's subtle touches bringing more than enough color to your face.

"i'll tell you when to stop, okay?"

"okay, close your eyes for me," kate mumbles, putting a delicate hand on your shoulder.

obliging, you feel light spritzes of mist fall on your face as kate controls the bottle nervously, not wanting to mess up.

"don't hold back, i'll tell you when it's good, don't worry," you laugh.

almost a whole minute goes by, which slightly concerns your girlfriend.

"more??" she exclaims.

finally, you tell her you've received a good amount, opening your eyes to look at her. you're instantly met those blue eyes youve grown so fond of. and again, you can't keep the smile off your face when she maintains eye contact in an irritatingly addictive manner. you practically forget about the phone pointed on the two of you, stuck in your own worlds.

"gametime, guys, let's go!" you hear a voice echo, snapping the two of you out of your trances.

user1: OMG WAS THAT CAITLIN

user2: i know my wifes voice when i hear it

user3: are we just gonna ignore the eye contact between kate and y/n??

user4: yall r so delusional lmaoo

returning to your phone, you pick it up off the mirror and follow kate out of the bathroom.

"okay, guys, hopefully you enjoyed today's live," you cheer, "make sure to tune in to espn tonight to watch the game!"

you hear an overlap of voices, each one saying goodbye to the viewers.

"bye live! see you soon!" from kate.

"bye my lovely people!" from gabbie.

"mwah love you guys see y'all at the game!" from jada.

"go hawkeyes!" from caitlin.

you snicker as you watch more and more comments about caitlin pour in, your followers going crazy at a small glimpse of their favorite athlete.

as soon as you end the live, everyone begins rushing out of your hotel room and down to the lobby to wait for the bus. hurriedly, you grab your backpack and make your way towards the door, but an eager hand pulls you back.

before you know it, a set of soft lips is placed against your own and two hands are glued to your waist. instead of jumping in surprise, you immediately melt into the kiss, finding comfort in your girlfriend's familiar embrace.

"sorry," she blushes once you pull away, "been wanting to do that all day."

— leilani signing off ! 📁

[auckie]

Remembering dream I had where I met two trans guy artists living in a cool city and they invited me over for like a month, and they were very like established and had my dream jobs (one was a mechanic the other was a park ranger working at a center for like environmental shit so they could advanced in their career beyond just patrolling a park like two hours outside the city). they invited me into their polycule and I was really hesitant bc I’ve never really wanted to be poly but I was so enamored by the opportunities that I accepted without much hesitation despite not knowing them like, at all. And both were workaholics so I never saw them and just lived at their apartment and for while it was great bc I could focus on writing and had a part time job at a diner, but then they kept bringing home the most random fucking people to join the polycule. Like a 69 year old, very beautiful but jaded opera singer, a disgraced CFO for an Enron like company, some beatnik wannabe who worked at a gas station, a mother of three who clearly had no interest in any of us, literally like just people on the street, and every time they did a new room generated within the ever growing apartment that was themed around that person. So some of them were really cool and beautiful like Memphis 80s minimalist styled, some were straight out of an arts and crafts Californian home, there were some that were kinda gross and packed with shit and smelled weird, and I kept exploring all of them getting progressively more and more lost and panicking bc I was gonna be late for work, until I finally found what I instinctively knew was called ‘the pound room’ where they kept an incomprehensible amount of Oscar Meyer baloney packages and like PAGES upon pages of the exact same two ocs in *barely* different positions, going at it like animals, almost as if each drawing were meant to be a painstakingly hand drawn frame of an animation. And when I found this room and was going through the drawings, the dream suddenly felt like that scene where Wendy finds Jack’s ‘all work and no play’ pages on the typewriter. And I got goosebumps and suddenly smelled all the baloney, bc it wasn’t refrigerated, and turned around to see that someone was in the doorway. It was the two original trans dudes who had fused into one larger trans guy who looked like a combo of both of them, and the second I recognized that he slammed the door shut and locked it, and I knew I was trapped and gonna die there.

[prod-ddeonu]

POOL PARTY (l.hs)

MDNI! MDNI! MDNI!

PAIRING: brother's best friend! Heeseung x fem! reader

WC: ~7.3k (whoops my bad)

CW/TW: older brother's best friend, smut (MDNI, 18+) , 1% angst, family problems, fluff, degrading + praise (receiving), oral (both), fingering (receiving), protected (BE SAFE), choking (receiving), spit, hickeys, hee calls reader a slut/whore like twice, public sex/outdoor sex, drinking, assault (if you squint), jealous heeseung, he kind of has a corruption kink and size kink (?), inexperienced reader, lmk if I missed anything!

SUMMARY: Blaring music, colorful lights, free alcohol, horny girls, cool water: pool parties were Lee Heeseung's favorite type of party. When you heard that your older brother, Jake, was throwing one in your back yard for Heeseung's birthday, you took your chance to have Heeseung finally notice you. Luckily for you, Heeseung knew your plan; and two can play that game.

FEATURING: Taehyun of TXT, enha (minus Niki and jungwon)

Buy me a Ko-fi!

Much like every college student, Lee Heeseung loved three things: money, alcohol, and pool parties. You recalled this as Heeseung and your brother walked into the living room shouting about how “awesome” their party will be, raving about your parents finally deciding to go out for the weekend. Heeseung stopped in the doorway upon seeing your figure curled onto the couch, watching Twilight for the thousandth time. 

“Hey, birthday boy,” you teased, your eyes leaving the television in front of you. Jake locked eyes with you before rolling his own.

“No, you can't go,” Jake replied, annoyance coating his tone. “This party is for cool people only," he swiped at a loose strand of his blonde hair as it fell over his face.

You sighed, putting a piece of popcorn into your mouth. “Then why are you going?” You joked back. Heeseung laughed lightly at your response.

He walked to where he could see the screen before turning to Jake. “I don't see why she can't come, it'll be here and all the guys will be here to make sure she's safe,” Heeseung reasoned. His arms rested against the top of the couch, leaning forward as he came closer to you.

Your head turned to face your brother’s best friend, eyeing how his newly silver hair complimented his tan skin. He wore a silver chain over his shirt, the metal dangling dangerously close to you.

Jake groaned, rolling his eyes again. “That's the problem, dude! Tons of guys will be drinking and looking at my baby sister like a piece of meat!” He shouted. “It's best if she just goes to her friend's house and stays far away that night.”

Jake angrily tapped his phone, sending a text to his friends.

You scoffed. “‘Baby sister’? Jake, I'm almost twenty years old.”

He ran a hand through his hair, aggravation evident on his face. “Twenty, twelve, same shit. My answer is final, you are not going to our party.”

You shrugged in response. “And if I happen to want to go for a swim in my own pool with Sunoo, then what?”

“I’ll inflate the kiddy pool for you two.”

You fiddled with the tiny black box in your hands nervously as Sunoo, your best friend, examined its contents. “Y/N, I'm not sure this is a good idea,” he sighed, placing the object back in the box.

Your shoulders fell as you put the box next to you. Sunoo came to sit next to you, running his hand over your back soothingly. “Maybe if you would tell me why this damn thing was ‘so cool’ I'd reconsider my opinion,” the blonde gestured towards you.

You held the silver sun-shaped pendant in your palm. “It's embarrassing,” you mumbled. 

“Then why are you giving it to hot boy Heeseung?”

You slapped your palm on top of Sunoo’s mouth, glancing towards your door in a panic. “Don't say that shit so loud, Sunoo!” He raised his arms in surrender before you spoke again. “I just… It's something between me and him, and I'm sure he'll understand the meaning.”

“Ooh, did you two fuck on the beach or something?” Sunoo bounced up and down, hitting his knees excitedly. “Tell me EVERYTHING!”

You laughed lightly. “No, that's not it,” you traced the outline of the metal Sun. “It’s much more meaningful and realistic than that.”

When you were sixteen, your family took a trip to the beach. You had just begun to bloom into womanhood, according to your mother. Jake had decided to bring his friend from school, Heeseung. 

Heeseung was possibly the most popular senior at your high school, your brother a close second to him. You had sat at the bottom of the food chain your entire freshman and sophomore year, until you’d come to school after spring break with a completely new look.

It was the last night of your trip, and you'd decided to go out to the shore one more time before going home. You made your way out in your tank top and shorts, the sandals on your feet crunchy with sand.

The sea greeted you with its soft crashes, the salty, sticky breeze hitting you slowly. You closed your eyes and relished in the tranquility.

Quietly, sniffles began to enter your ears. Your head snapped in their direction, seeing your brother's best friend still shirtless and in his swim trunks that he'd worn all day. He sat with his knees curled into his chest, his brown hair blown askew from the wind.

You walked over to him quietly, sitting next to him with your legs out and arms behind you. “Wanna talk about it?” You asked gently, your eyes never leaving the shore. 

He shook his head as it sat against his knees with another sniffle. You brought your hand up to run through his hair, a common gesture you did. Stopping mid-air, you watched as his shoulders shook with the force of his breathing.

Heeseung’s body visibly relaxed at the feeling of your fingers gently carding through his hair. “Whatever it is, it'll be okay. I'm here for you, if you need someone to talk to,” you comforted him in a light voice.

He couldn't get himself to pick his head up, too afraid to have anyone see him so disheveled. “It's- It's-” he stammered, hiccuping between words. 

You shushed him, whispering that it was okay and that he didn't need to force himself. He lifted his head up, watching the way you stared towards the open ocean as if it were the most interesting thing in the world.

He admired the way your hair fell over your shoulders, slightly wavy from the salt water. He watched a smile grace your cheeks, freckles and a slight tint from a sunburn being gently illuminated by the moonlight bouncing from the water. 

“It's my family,” he scratched out, his throat burning from his emotions. “They just, God, they're so shit. My parents fight all the fucking time, and then they expect me to clean up their messes when they throw shit and scare my little siblings. I come home half the time to one of my parents drunk as shit, high off their ass, or flipping their shit at one of the kids.”

He glanced at you, as if to ask if he could continue. You nodded slowly, your eyes giving him all of the reassurance he needed. “I don't want to go home,” he mumbled. “This week with your family has been the best week of my life. I'm not scared to walk out of my room or talk to you all, your family is so loving and easy to be with. I'm so thankful your family let me come and treated me like one of their own.”

Heeseung cracked out another choked sob. “I'm so tired of having to work my ass off to pay bills, and fix shit, and take care of my siblings in my parents’ place, and do good in school, and-”

Heeseung felt his body freeze at the feeling of your soft fingers wiping the tears from his cheeks. He leaned into your touch as you continued to hold his face, his eyes closing in comfort. “You don't have to keep this all to yourself, y'know,” you smiled down to him.

He lifted his eyes to yours, making your breath hitch. The delicate moonlight created a shadow over his face that only served to increase his attractiveness, despite his puffy eyes. His round, doe eyes had a white shine from the illuminated night above him, and you couldn't tell if the stars you were seeing lived in the sky or if they simply lived in his eyes.

“Heeseung,” you breathed out. “You'll always be part of our family.”

Heeseung wrapped his arms around your arms, his chin coming to sit on your shoulder. You let your hands hold his back soothingly, your palms running up and down as he breathed. He brought his face back, staring into your own eyes.

His breath reached your lips with each exhale. “Y/N, you're like a ray of sunshine, y'know?” He laughed, a perfect smile over his features.

“You sound cheesy,” you joked. “But if I can be a ray of sunshine for you when you need it, then I'll be your Sun.”

The two of you sat like that, the last words of your conversation hanging in the air. His face was so, so close to your own.

His eyes flicked down to your lips as he slowly leaned in. “Whenever I need it?” He asked, gauging your reaction.

“Anytime,” you breathed out, almost whispering.

His arms unraveled from your body, hands holding your chin and cheek softly. “What if I just want it?”

You closed the distance, pressing your lips against his, hoping to God that he'd reciprocate. His lips moved against your own slowly, never escalating the kiss beyond just that: a kiss. He pulled away after a few seconds, resting his forehead against your own. He laughed lightly, his shoulders bouncing with him. “Thank you, Y/N, for talking to me. I won't forget this.”

Sunoo sat with his jaw hung open as you finished recalling the story of your conversation with Heeseung. “So you two kissed?!” Sunoo all but yelled.

You jumped up and slammed your door shut, a threatening glare in your eyes. “Shut up!” You whisper-shouted. “The last thing I need is for Heeseung to hear you, or worse, Jake!”

Sunoo swooned in your bed overdramatically. “And you got him a sun pendant to remind him you're his Sunshine, oh my GOSH! So romantic!”

You put the box back onto your desk. “Not exactly,” you smiled. “Just… friendly.”

“Oh, shut up! You guys kissed all romantically, have you two been sneaking around?”

“Nothing ever happened after that, actually. We just went back to how it was before, with him being Jake's friend and me not being allowed to interact with Jake’s guy friends.”

Sunoo slammed his hands onto your mattress. “Okay, I see the problem. We have to kill Jake.”

Your eyes widened as Sunoo wordlessly slid his finger across his throat. His eyes were wide with exaggeration.

“Oh my God, Sunoo, no! We're not killing my brother!” You laughed, your large t-shirt falling over your gym shorts. 

Sunoo shrugged. “No fun,” he mumbled. He suddenly snapped his fingers as he got an idea, jumping off your bed and tearing through your closet. 

You ran over to him, catching clothes as he threw them behind himself. “Sunoo, what are you doing?!” You shouted, laughter tearing through your body.

He mumbled, “I know you've gotta be hiding your sexy clothes in here,” as he flipped your entire dresser drawer of swimwear upside down. He smiled devilishly, pulling out a white bikini. He held it over your body, his tongue poking from the side of his mouth as he squinted his eyes.

“Sunoo, what are you planning?”

“We're crashing that party, and you're crashing Heeseung,” he stated. He nodded once as he examined where the suit fell and exclaimed, “SEXALICIOUS!”

You giggled, the two of you falling into fashion show mode, trying on different clothes from your closet.

Heeseung stood outside your door, a blush on his cheeks. As he'd promised, he never forgot that night on the beach. In fact, he thought about it quite often. Hearing you laugh every time he came over, seeing you run around with Sunoo happily, the way you would innocently smile at him as if he wasn't thinking about how beautiful you were that night: it drove him crazy.

As time passed and you grew into the adult you are now, Heeseung began to think about how beautiful you would be in front of him, with his cock down your throat. He wanted to ruin the innocence behind your smile.

The day had finally come. It was Heeseung’s twenty-first birthday, the day that you and Sunoo had been planning for weeks. Your parents cooked a simple ramen for everyone, the cake being the main course. 

Of course, you'd helped decorate the cake. Your mother was only capable of making a sheet cake, so you helped her ice it with smiley faces everywhere and “HAPPY BIRTHDAY HEESEUNG” being drawn in the center. 

Heeseung watched as you placed the candles carefully, wanting all twenty-one to be even. He walked over to you as you placed the finishing candle, noticing you were alone.

Heeseung had been planning for this day. At least, he'd been planning since he overheard your plans. He was going to drive you to your absolute limit, and put your simple plan (which he knew would already be highly effective) to its fullest potential.

He smiled at the cake, glancing at you. “Thank you, Y/N. This looks delicious,” he commented. 

Your eyes shot around the room. “Watch out, Heeseung. Jake might froth at the mouth if he sees any of his friends talking to me tonight.”

“Well,” he swiped his finger into the icing, gathering a dollop of white on it, “we'll just have to be sneaky, then.” 

You turned to him, mouth open and ready to scold him for messing with the cake (and your head). He smirked, dragging his finger along his tongue slowly. You watched as the icing spread over it, his tongue flat against his finger. He quietly groaned at the flavor. “Fuck,” he practically moaned. 

“‘Fuck’?” You breathlessly whispered.

He looked at you, licking the rest off of his lips. “Tastes so good, Y/N,” he murmured with half-lidded eyes.

 Suddenly, his sweet eyes had opened back up as his smile reached his ears again. “Can't wait to eat it!” He cheerily harped before walking out of the room, leaving you in a state of confusion and with a puddle in your skirt.

“BITCH!” Sunoo shouted upon hearing of your interaction with Heeseung. He laughed loudly, his tropical shirt and black swim trunks complimenting the sunglasses he wore atop his head. “He is so flirting with you!”

You walked out of your closet, doing a dramatic twirl in your bikini. You had a pair of glasses on your head, matching Sunoo’s. He clapped and hooted while you did a few more moves, including the iconic Elle Woods “bend and snap”.

Sunoo scanned your figure, from your curled hair down to your painted toes. “Are you seriously wearing an anklet?” He asked as you stood.

You looked down at it. “Yeah, what's wrong with it? It matched the pendant I'm giving Heeseung, I thought it would be cute.”

“It is,” Sunoo nodded, “if you want to tell him you want it to dangle over his shoulder, that is.”

He looked up at you, expecting you to take it off. 

When you made no move to do so, his eyes widened as he began to shout. “Oh my God! You dirty whore, look at you growing up!”

He stood next to you, eyeing the both of you in your mirror before putting an arm over your shoulder. “We could pass as a cute couple, couldn't we?” He commented.

The two of you faked it for about two more seconds before bursting into laughter, Sunoo holding onto your shoulder to keep from falling.

As you heard the door to your house opening, followed by boisterous laughter and shouting, you knew that the party was starting. You and Sunoo walked down the stairs, your gift to Heeseung in your hands. 

Jake's friend, Sunghoon, whistled lowly as you walked into the room. “Damn, Jake, didn't know you had a girlfriend,” he commented.

Heeseung turned to you quickly, his eyes going wide and his cheeks turning red as he checked you out. If he had been trying to hide it, he did not do a good job of it. He shut his open mouth and blinked quickly before trying to get ahold of himself.

Jake looked at you in shock and disgust. “That's my sister, you douche!” Jake shouted. 

“Is she single?” Sunghoon asked flirtatiously.

Heeseung and Jake both shot a look at the boy. 

“Off limits.”

“Don't even try it.”

The two looked at each other after they spoke simultaneously, both shrugging and looking back at Sunghoon with glares.

You came up between Heeseung and Jake, eyeing Sunghoon up and down. “Actually, I am single,” you smiled. “I'll be at the party all night, if you wanted to hang,” you hoped your attempt at blatantly flirting would get to Heeseung.

From the way his jaw clenched, it did.

Your bubble was burst, however, by Jake’s hand on your wrist. “Oh, no. No, no, no. I told you, you are not invited,” Jake dragged you back to the stairs. “Whether you live here or not, you will stay in your room.”

You opened your mouth to protest, only for Heeseung to come up next to you and pluck the sunglasses off of your head. “Why do you have these anyways? You do realize it’s nighttime, right?” He asked, putting them in his own hair.

You rolled your eyes. “Can I at least give Heeseung his birthday gift?” 

Jake shook his head no as Heeseung nodded at you. He smiled tenderly, his hand settling on your shoulder. “I'll find you after the party's over so you can give it to me, yeah?”

You sighed, pretending to give in. “Alright, that works. If anyone needs me, I'll be in my room all night. All alone! The one right by the-”

“Alright, horndog, I'll be sure to relay the message that your brother will beat the shit out of anyone who tries to go, don't worry,” Jake began to push you up the stairs.

As Jake and Heeseung greeted more people, you watched the red solo cups fill outside your window. “Sun,” you called out, “do you think girls are gonna hit on Heeseung?”

“I think girls are going to flash him, too,” Sunoo deadpanned. You frowned at him, your makeup not being able to hide your worry. “Girls are going to throw themselves at a hot guy like him, but that guy out there was one of many who will be begging for your attention tonight.”

He walked over to you, rubbing your arms. “You are hot shit tonight, babe. If you want Heeseung to notice you, you've gotta flaunt it.”

After the two of you snuck back into the party, it took about five minutes before a guy offered to show you how to use a keg. Once you'd gotten that information, you were unstoppable.

You had about four cups of beer before deciding to take a break, the buzz making you dizzy. You let your feet dangle into the water of the pool, watching the way the water rippled under your feet.

The slight waves in your pool from people swimming reminded you of that night on the beach so many years ago. There was no way Heeseung remembered, you thought. You were probably just a kid to him, or a little sister. 

You looked up and took in the scene of your backyard. You’d seen it from your window many nights, but you’d never been immersed into it. Girls ran around with pool floats in skimpy swimsuits, guys targeted one another with water guns, your pool was decorated with LED lights and stray solo cups, and your brother was easily the life of the party. 

Currently, your dad’s expensive speaker setup for the pool was blaring “Beauty and a Beat” by Justin Beiber. You watched as a beach ball was tossed around the party, beer splashing onto the ground and water dripping down bodies.

You felt a leg brush against your own as someone sat next to you. A shirtless man with big eyes and an impressive physique sat next to you, his hair dripping with water. “You ever been to one of Jake’s parties?” The man asked.

You shook your head, “I’ve only ever heard of them, this is my first party.” The man watched as you took another chug of your drink.

He let his hand touch against the flush on your cheeks, smiling at you. “I can tell, you look bored as fuck. My name’s Taehyun.”

“Hi, Taehyun. I’m Y/N,” you smiled, holding your hand out for him to shake.

He looked at you with a confused smile, shaking your hand slowly. He then intertwined your fingers, his pink hair dripping water into your hand. His muscles flexed as he helped you stand with him, his pretty hand coming to steady you. “Say, do you want something a little better than beer? It tastes like shit, a pretty girl like you needs quality drinks."

You glanced at your cup, eying the amount of beer you had left. You chugged the rest, nodding as you swallowed. “Yeah, what the hell? I'm always up for a challenge.”

He cocked a brow. “Oh? I like that,” he held your hands as he led you to the drink table. 

You handed him your cup as he poured a mixture of clear liquid, lime, and frozen pink lemonade into a cup. “Try this. It's good, and it's not enough to fuck you up off one cup,” he smiled. 

You pushed the drink down your throat, your eyes widening as you swallowed. “Holy shit, Taehyun. This tastes like a fucking slushy.”

“I know, it's awesome,” he praised himself.

As you laughed, you felt a pair of eyes glaring at you. You hoped it wasn't Jake as you sound around.

Heeseung sat behind you, a girl sitting sideways on his lap. You watched as she ran her hand up and down his chisled abs, his hands behind his head. She whispered into his ear, a smirk crossing his lips, but you knew she didn't have his undivided attention at the moment.

His eyes were burning into you, and if looks could kill, the entire neighborhood would have gone up in flames. With a clenched jaw and raised eyebrows, he glared at you as if to say don't even try it. He stared at you so intently that you felt almost ashamed for talking to Taehyun.

You shook your head, snapping yourself out of your trance. “Taehyun, do you want to try a sip?”

He looked you up and down. “I mean, sure,” he stepped closer to you, wrapping his arm around your waist and pulling you close enough to have you pour the drink into his mouth yourself.

Your lips curved into a smile. “Flirting, huh?” You teased him.

He smiled back. “Is it working?”

You grabbed his chin, forcing his face closer to yours. “Only if you're looking to get laid tonight,” you said, sure that Heeseung was reading your lips.

You glanced at the boy, his jaw clenched again. He returned his focus to the girl on his lap, his hand gripping at her thigh. You watched as she turned to him, a gasp escaping her lips.

Taehyun smirked as he crashed his lips into yours, a much different kiss from the one you shared with Heeseung four years ago. His hand wove its way into your hair, his other hand holding your hip. He pushed your body against his, your back arching into him as you let out a moan.

He took the opportunity to insert his tongue into your mouth, clashing against your own. He sucked your tongue harshly, his lower hand gravitating towards your ass. You brushed your leg against Taehyun’s crotch, a low groan leaving his lips as he pulled away. “Maybe we should take this where we can't be seen by everyone, yeah?”

You nodded, Taehyun already starting to lead you to the side of your house. You watched as the two of you walked into the seclusion of the shadow cast by it, your heart racing.

Maybe, having seen Heeseung with the other girl and believing he doesn't want you the way you want him, you could move on.

Taehyun placed a hand on the wall of your house, your foreheads touching. “God, you're so hot,” he sighed, capturing your lips again. It was one filled with lust, with teeth clashing and lip biting.

You grabbed his hand and lifted it to your chest as he backed away and looked at you. “Are you sure?” He asked. “I don't want it to be the beer talking.”

You nodded, throwing your head back as he kneaded your boob over your swimsuit. He squeezed your mound in time with every jab of his tongue into your mouth, occasionally pinching your nipple through the material. You had all but cum from him just kissing and touching your chest when he was suddenly ripped away from you.

“Dude, what the fuck?!” Taehyun shouted, bracing himself as he hit the ground.

You watched as Heeseung didn't spare the man a glance, his attention entirely on you. His eyes raked over your figure mercilessly, making you feel small in your own yard. 

Taehyun looked between the two of you, confusion and anger evident on his face. “Tae, go back to the party. You don't want her,” Heeseung said in a low voice.

Taehyun scoffed. “And who are you to make decisions for her?” His arms came to cross in front of his chest.

“She's Jake’s little sister,” Heeseung turned his head to face the other. “He'll kill you.”

Taehyun cursed under his breath before running off, hoping your brother hadn't seen your show earlier. Your eyes followed him, wondering if he could’ve given you what you’d been hoping for.

You glared at Heeseung. “What the fuck is your problem, Hee? You can't just tell me what to do!” You pushed him back by his chest, your smaller hands barely moving him.

Heeseung’s eyes locked onto yours, his stare harder than anything you’d seen before. He stared at you like you were wrong for kissing Taehyun, wrong for kissing anyone else. His hair, which he used your sunglasses to push back after jumping into the pool, still dropped some water onto his neck and shoulders. You watched as a droplet fell down his collarbones, trailing down his chest and stomach, collecting in the waistband of his swim trunks.

You wanted to lick every bead of water off of his body.

His tongue peeked out of mouth to wet his lips, his teeth catching the bottom of the two as his eyes fell to where Taehyun had touched. 

His hands balled into fists as he fought his desires. He closed his eyes, groaning in anger. “Go to your room. Jake will never talk to either of us again if we do this.”

He turned to walk away, taking two steps before you spoke up. “Do fucking what, Hee? Instead of me falling for that fucking show you put on earlier with the cake, I decided to go and find someone who was actually into me. Nowhere does that involve you!”

Heeseung turned around. “You think I’m not into you? You don’t think I’ve been fighting myself to not kiss you all this time?” He raised his voice, the tension finally getting to him.

Suddenly, it was too hot outside. In the cool night air, your body temperatures began to rise to unseen numbers.

“I don’t know, Heeseung. You sure didn’t have to do much fighting if you’ve lasted four years.”

He slammed his hand against your head onto the wall, much harder than Taehyun had. Your faces were inches away from one another, you could smell the beer on his breath. “I see your pretty fucking lips in my dreams, Y/N. I’ve had to imagine your pretty little face and how it would look if you were choking on me for ages, and tonight, I have to watch you parade around with your ass out and your tits barely covered? Do you know how badly I wanted to rip these clothes off you when you walked down those stairs?”

You held your breath, his eyes glancing to your lips. “What makes you think I won't just walk away and go find someone else?” You asked. The two of you both knew you were bluffing, an empty threat that only served to make Heeseung angrier.

“If anyone’s fucking you tonight, it’s gonna be me.”

Heeseung looked into your eyes, how they were wide with anticipation for him. He looked down to your lips, admiring how they were already pouty and puffy for him, begging for him to kiss you right. “Fuck, you’re so beautiful,” he mumbled, pressing his lips to your own. 

You threw your arms over his shoulders, his hand holding the back of your head as he pushed your mouths impossibly close. His other hand slid down the curve of your hips, holding onto your leg and pulling it up to wrap around his hips. You moaned as you felt his hard-on press into you, Heeseung taking the opportunity to shove his tongue into your mouth. The two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, Heeseung winning and taking your lip between his teeth. He backed away, loving how you looked under him. “Go inside. I’ll excuse myself from the party and meet you in your room.”

You nodded, walking towards your front door to sneak back in. Heeseung jogged back around the house to find your brother. Jake was laughing with his friends, a girl sat on his leg as he played with her hair. “Yo, Heeseung!” He called out, obviously plastered. 

Heeseung walked to him, yawning. “Dude, I hate to say this, but I’m feeling super tired. Must’ve been all the swimming and all the beer, man.” Jake looked around the party, seeing how everyone else was still partying.

Jake put his cup onto the table behind him. “Do you want me to call off the party? It is your party, after all.”

Heeseung shook his head. “Nah, keep it going. I’m just gonna head inside and go to bed, but don’t stop the party. Keep it going as long as possible, actually.” Jake cocked a brow at him in confusion. “In my honor, y’know,” he added. Jake gave him a thumbs up, standing and shouting something incoherent, to which everyone else cheered.

Heeseung ran inside, practically flying up the stairs and to your room. He swung your door open, slamming it shut and smashing his lips onto your own again. He reached his hand behind your back to push the straps of your swimsuit off your shoulders, halting all movement when you pushed him off of you.

“Is something wrong?” He asked with worry.

You shook your head, grabbing the black box from your desk and handing it to him. “I wanted to give you this first. I think you’ll like it.”

He nodded, opening the box. “Is that for this?” He asked, holding his chain out. You nodded, helping him put the pendant on.

You sighed as you looked at it. “It’s supposed to be because-”

“Because I called you my ray of sunshine, I remember. I go to sleep thinking about that kiss,” he mumbled at the end.

 You pointed to your ankle. “I have the matching anklet. Figured it would look good over your shoulder.”

Heeseung looked up at you, the toothy grin on his lips contrasting the filthy words coming from them. “I know exactly what position I want you in first.”

He kissed you again, unclasping your top and pulling it off of you as he made his way down your jawline and neck. His fingertips fluttered down your arms gently, goosebumps appearing behind them. He bit along the bottom of your neck, leaving small bruises in his wake. You swallowed a moan, earning a harsh bite from him. “Let me hear your pretty voice, babe,” he whispered into your ear.

His hand slid to your boob, experimentally pinching your nipple with his thumb and index finger. You let out a quiet moan, melting into his touch.

He brought his other hand to your waist, his thumb rubbing circles onto the side of your stomach. He kissed his way down your chest, leaving hickeys all the way down to your free boob. You moaned as he licked your other nipple, the cold air hitting his saliva and making it perk. 

You let out a loud moan, hands flying to the top of his head as he sucked harshly and rolled your other nipple between his fingers. He pushed you against your bed, your legs falling over the side as your back lay on the edge. He continued to roll your nipple between his fingers as he kissed down the valley of your tits, down your stomach, and to the hem of your swimsuit bottoms. "Already so wet for me, why didn't you say you needed me, baby?" He smirked against your stomach, his fingers already curling underneath the material.

“You talked so much shit earlier, and now look at you. You can't even tell me how bad you want me to eat your fucking pussy,” he mused. “Tell me, am I the first?”

You felt his hot breath fan over your clothed core, your wetness showing through the white material. “Y- You’re the first,” you breathily said. Heeseung let out a low groan, a dark smile appearing.

He ripped the clothing down your legs, throwing them to the corner of your room. He looked down at your core, your lips glistening with your wetness. “Fuck, I’ve barely even touched you,” he let the sight and smell invade his senses. “So pretty, baby, so pretty for me. Almost like you were made to be my pretty whore.”

Your hole clenched around his words, the praise going straight to your stomach. He put his finger on your clit, rubbing slow circles over it before dragging it down to your hole and back up. He pulled his finger to his mouth, his eyes never leaving yours. Sucking your juices into his mouth, he closed his eyes and moaned. “Taste so good, might have to just eat you out until you’re begging for my cock.”

“Hee, please,” you whined.

“Please what, babe?” He cooed, the tip of his finger pushing into where you needed him most. “You think Taehyun could’ve made you needy like this? Think he could’ve had you whining for him like this?”

“N- No, Hee, only you,” you moaned as he pushed his finger all the way in, curling it to make your back arch.

He laughed cruelly at how sensitive you were, fanning his breath over your heat. He wanted to watch the way you squirmed over a singular finger, wanted to see the way you saw stars from him doing so little to you. He wanted to stay strong, palming himself over his shorts to the sound of you.

You moaned loudly, your legs twitching. Heeseung growled, his resolve shattering into pieces as he dragged the tip of his tongue up from your hole to your clit slowly, eyes rolling back in his head at the taste.

"Fuck, Y/N, you taste so amazing. Could eat you all day."

He latched his lips onto your folds, licking and sucking your slick until his nose and chin were shiny with it. He pumped his finger fast, a relentless pace building up. You felt a knot in your stomach building, his lips coming to latch around your clit and suck. “‘m close,” you mumbled, your head thrown back. 

He sloppily licked over your clit, bringing you closer and closer to the euphoria he’d been building you up to. He added a second finger, stretching you out and pushing you over the edge. You saw white and your ears rang as he swallowed as much of your juices as he could, the rest coating his chin and nose still. Once he was sure you’d come down from your high, he brought his lips to your own and kissed you, forcing you to taste yourself. It wasn’t as sweet as he made it out to be, but if he enjoyed it, you guess. 

“So good for me, you’re so, so good for me baby. My pretty baby, already all fucked out for me,” he commented, holding your jerking hips down. “Get on your knees.”

You obeyed, sliding to the floor on your weak legs, your eyes staring into his. He pulled his shorts off of his body, his hard dick slapping his stomach, leaving a string of precum attaching his tip to his lower abdomen. He looked at you expectantly. “Can’t expect me to teach you everything, not when you were gonna give another guy the same like I haven’t been waiting.”

You wrapped your hand around his member, the tip continuing to leak into your hand. Heeseung wasn’t monstrously thick, but he was long. His girth was what you’d consider average, if not a little above, but his length was longer than you’d imagined he could be. You used your thumb to spread his precum down the underside of his cock, bringing your head to lick up the trail you created from base to tip. He threw his head back, a pretty moan slipping past his lips as you put your lips around the tip and sucked. 

The tension in his shoulders released, his jaw going slack as you tried to fit him inside your mouth. He found it so cute how you tried your best, but so sexy that your proportions were so much smaller, that he had to fit himself in you.

You used your hands to stroke where you couldn’t reach, your head not going very far beyond his head. He moaned loudly as you used your tongue against his slit, his hand collecting your hair into a ponytail.  He thrusted into your mouth, his dick going down your throat and making you gag. “Shit, baby, are you okay?” He asked quickly.

You nodded, pulling yourself off of him. “I’ve never done this before, I’m sorry.”

“Don’t apologize,” he stroked the side of your face. “That makes this more fun. I can help, if you want.”

“Please.”

His cock twitched in your hands as he looked down at you, your eyes teary and your chin dripping with slobber. You were fully naked on the floor in front of him, your hair messy and your chest marked. And you looked so beautiful for him.

He moaned at the begging tone of your voice, the hand in your hair holding your head in place as he thrusted forward. He was holding back from going fast, you could tell. You gripped his thighs, your nails digging into them as you moaned around his dick. He sucked in a breath, pulling out of your mouth. “Shit,” he hissed, “I almost came doing that.”

He pulled you up by your hair, the pain making you drip down the inside of your thighs. You moaned loudly as he jerked your head around, littering your chest with more hickeys. “Trying so hard to be gentle with you, I promise. You’re just so perfect, want everyone to know you’re mine.”

“Hee, be rough. Wanna feel you,” you moaned into his kiss. 

His eyes squeezed shut, a low groan emerging from the back of his throat. “You’re gonna be the death of me.” He threw you onto your bed, climbing on between your legs and pinning your hands above your head with one hand. He kissed you roughly, his teeth grazing whatever skin they could.

His finger tapped the side of your lips. “Open,” he commanded. You opened your mouth, watching the glob of saliva fall from his lips. “Swallow.” You let the warm liquid travel down your throat as he said it. “Good girl,” he cooed in your ear sweetly, his stomach filling with warmth as he watched you. “Want everyone out there to hear how good you are for me. So bratty and talkative outside, and now you want my cock so bad you’ll do anything, isn’t that right?”

You nodded. “Want you s’ bad, Hee,” you whined as he rubbed his thumb against your clit. “Wanna feel you in me.”

You reached under your pillow, pulling a condom out and handing it to him. He ripped the package open with his teeth, sliding the rubber on easily. “Had it ready for me, you knew I’d be in you tonight, didn’t you? My pretty little slut,” he teased as he pressed the tip of his dick against your hole. 

He grabbed your legs, bringing them over his shoulders. True to your word, your anklet dangled next to his face as his matching necklace hung over your face. He pushed your legs closer to you, pressing you in on yourself as he slowly started to push in. “Stop teasing,” you stammered. “P- Push it in all the way.”

He threw his head forward, watching his cock disappear into you and bulge in your stomach. “S’ tight, s’ happy I got to fuck this pretty pussy. Can’t believe you almost let someone else see this when you know it’s all mine,” he spoke filthily over you.

He slowly began to thrust in and out, building up to a fast pace that had your bed creaking. His jaw hung open, shameless moans spilling from his mouth. His breath would catch in his throat, short gasps telling you he found this as pleasurable as you did. His hand wrapped around your neck, squeezing until you felt lightheaded. He brought you up by your neck to kiss you.

This kiss was much softer and slower than the others. He took his time savoring your lips and their pillowy feel, he committed the feeling of your tongue wrapping around his to memory. He let your head fall back down as he brought his head into your neck. You felt the familiar tightening in your stomach that you had before, his dick filling you up entirely. He moaned into your ear, words of praise falling from his delicate lips with each thrust. “‘S good, ‘s perfect, all mine,” he said. "Ngh, fuck, feels 's tight around me."

Your nails scratched down his back as he ruthlessly pounded into you, a loud moan escaping him as he felt the pain. You moaned his name louder the harder he pounded into you, only fueling his drive. He picked his head up, his eyes bearing into your own. “Tell me whose cock is making you feel this good, hm? Who’s making this tight little pussy cum so hard, hm? Is it anyone out there, or is it me?”

“You, ‘s all you, Heeseung. Don’t want anyone but you, Hee,” you moaned. You felt your orgasm coming quick the more he teased you. “I’m gonna cum, baby.”

Heeseung sucked hard against your neck. “Fuckin’ love when you call me that,” he groaned in your ear. “You’re my baby, all mine, I’m all yours,” he cooed. “Only this pretty pussy makes me feel this good, nobody else.”

You pulled Heeseung back down to you, “Shut up and kiss me, ‘m so close.”

“Fuck, me too,” he said, molding his lips to your own. His mouth caught your whines and moans as you came undone onto him, your cum coating his abdomen and thighs. Your hole spasmed around his cock as he fucked you through your orgasm, making him release into the condom.

He panted into your ear, his forehead against your own. The two of you sat in that position for a few minutes, catching your breaths and kissing one another. 

He slowly pulled out of you, tying the condom and tossing it into the trash can. He came back to lay on top of you, holding your waist as he did so. He pulled your blanket over you both, bringing you up to your pillows. “Jake’s gonna wonder where you are, Hee,” you ran your fingers through his hair.

“I don’t give a fuck,” he laughed, his hand intertwining with your free one. “Just had sex with the girl I’ve been in love with for four years, he can suck it up.”

You looked down at him. “You’re in love with me?”

He looked back up at you and nodded. “You couldn’t tell?”

“Heeseung, I was going to give up on you after tonight if nothing happened.”

“I was supposed to move on from you too, but I realized I didn’t give a fuck about Jake’s overprotectiveness.”

You laughed. “I don’t think he’ll be too mad. He does trust you with his life, after all,” you smiled while rubbing your thumb over his hand. He brought his head to lay on the pillow next to you, bringing your body closer to his. “So, what does this mean for us?”

Heeseung ran his hand down your side soothingly. “Well, Sunshine, even though I did it insanely out of order,” he laughed, “I’d like to take you out on actual dates and get your parents’ approval and all. Y’know, court you and shit. Treat you like someone I want to spend my life with.”

You smiled. “I’d like that, Hee.”

The two of you fell asleep like that. Needless to say, Jake was not pleased when he went to look for Heeseung in the morning. Your parents immediately gave him the seal of approval to date you, but Jake took much longer to come around. It wasn’t until Heeseung told him he wouldn’t ask you to be his girlfriend until he got Jake’s approval that Jake realized how stupid his friend was.

“You mean to tell me, you’ve been in love with my little sister since that vacation, but you’re waiting on something as stupid as my approval to ask her out?” Jake had asked one morning while the three of you ate breakfast together.

Heeseung nodded, pouring another bowl of cereal for himself. “Yep, pretty much,” he smiled.

“Dude, it’s been, like, a fucking month!” Jake exclaimed. “Why would you do that?”

“He wanted to wait for his best friend to be happy for him and the little sister,” you grumbled, morning crankiness being your worst enemy. Jake looked between the both of you, his eyes wide.

Heeseung’s smile didn’t quite reach his eyes like it usually did, his spoon aimlessly stirring his meal. “I want my best friend to not hate me for life if I date his little sister,” Heeseung corrected you.

Jake slammed his fist onto the counter, making you both jump. “Dude, I might beat your ass. Really,” he glared at Heeseung. “I can get over you two dating, but I won’t be able to get over you hurting her.”

“I would never-”

“That includes being an idiot and making her wait,” Jake interrupted Heeseung. “Ask the girl out-”

“Hello, ‘girl’ is right here,” you waved.

Jake held a hand in front of your face. “Ask the girl out, and make her happy.”

Heeseung pushed Jake’s hand out of your face, leaning over the counter. “Hey, girl,” he smiled. Jake rolled his eyes and walked out of the room, leaving his cereal on the counter. Heeseung grabbed your hand with his. “How happy would it make you if I took you out tonight?”

“Well, in my mind we’ve been dating for four years, so I’d be pretty happy,” you smiled as you put a spoonful of cereal in your mouth. 

“Well, girl, I’m excited to celebrate our imaginary four year anniversary when you become my girlfriend tonight."

NOTES: ohhh my gosshhhh this took so long to write 😭 never really written this much before, I'm scared it's repetitive or boring. I just listened to Beauty and a Beat and my mind was like "omg heeseung at a pool party yass"

Comments, likes, and reblogs are always appreciated, and my asks/requests are always open!

[star2fishmeg]

ғᴇᴇʟ ᴛʜɪs ᴡᴀʏ

[25.3k] Pairing | Quinn Hughes x afab!reader Summary | summer houses and situationships. For three years straight everyone had to watch Quinn and y/n be more than friends but less than a couple until the curse of the lake house stirs the pot Warnings | 18+ smut, childhood friends to situationship to lovers, swearing, the Tkachuks-, underage drinking, insecurities (appearance, self-esteem), dry humping, protected p in v, suggested blowjob, jealousy, angst, making out, creepy behaviour towards y/n, pet names (princess, baby, pretty girl), fingering, fluff Authors Note | my canucks pint glass arrived and i really put my whole megussy into this. Based on this after hours! This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ objects in the mirror - mac miller  [small worlds masterlist]

The Hughes lake house had some sort of curse to it. One that turned hot summer days, even hotter and changed the trajectory of relationships. Quinn and y/n could go through the school term smoothly, balancing homework, hockey and hanging out without stress, distracted by their friend groups until the summer. But one foot on the lake house driveway and the atmosphere would shift. Hormones would surge, and suddenly, all that mattered was who liked who, how good they looked and if they were missing out on core experiences. Something about that lake house confining them just stirred the pot too well.

Y/n L/n had lived next to Quinn Hughes since she was a child in a quiet neighbourhood in the suburbs of Toronto, where surviving winters became second nature, where watching hockey became second nature due to her father’s unhinged passion for the sport that flowed through the genes. Her mother never really understood it, but her children did, resulting in the winter’s plans revolving around the hockey schedule, but bumping into Ellen Hughes next door, she came around. 

Ten-year-old y/n sat on her front porch step, huddled in her thick coat and hat while the cold bit her nose frozen. It had finally stopped snowing, the one day in January when it hadn’t snowed once, not that they needed any more, the houses constantly blanketed in white, driveways and roads shovelled and gritted clear every morning. She could’ve been building a snowman with her little brother and dad, watching TV with her mum in the warmth of the living room, or even sledging with her friends as she had originally planned. However, instead, she sat stiff, but happily, on the step and watched the Hughes boys play hockey on the road with their two beaten-up goals, sticks and a plastic ball (it used to be a puck but since Jack sent it straight into her dad’s car door last year, Jim sent the terrified boy over to apologise and told them to use hollow plastic balls while on the road). She smiled brightly the whole time, listening to the ball rattle and skid along the concrete, and Quinn scolded Jack for being too rough on Luke, who had no choice but to be the goalie, being the youngest of the three. Fortunately, she’d never had to have that experience, but Luke’s lip wobbling and Quinn pulling him into a hug was like looking into a mirror, reminding her that she had a six-year-old brother to take care of. 

She’d been too focused on watching her brother fuss around with her dad, both attempting to roll the snow into their snowman’s head to notice the first time Quinn approached her. His boots crunched into the grit along the path, two hockey sticks in his hockey-glove-clad hands and stopped a small distance opposite her sitting figure. She looked up at him, almost startled that he’d approached her after ten years of being neighbours, his chubby cheeks flushed pink and tufts of brown hair sticking out from under his Maple Leafs beanie. Many days, she’d watched him from afar, out the window or school, observing his comforting demeanour in nothing but adoration like a little puppy; whatever Quinn was up to, her curiosity was piqued. Now he’d seen her physical being and why her heart raced was confusing and nothing she’d felt before.

“Would you like to join us?” he asked politely, holding one of the sticks out. That’s what he was, the quiet and polite brother, she’d noticed that at the neighbourhood barbecues at least, compared to Jack, who, while Quinn softly offered her participation with heaven in his eyes, yelled at the top of his lungs for Quinn to hurry up. The middle child, the loudest child, but the one with the biggest smile and brightest blue eyes she’d ever seen.

“Uh,” she pursed, “yeah, but I don’t know how to play.” She lied, of course; she knew how to play, but the boys were so much better than she was and looking stupid wasn’t part of her ego; she was the eldest daughter, and failure wasn’t an option.

“It’s okay, I’ll teach you.” he giggled and let her take the stick, patiently waiting for her to follow him. Stick in hand, she followed, gaze never leaving his face.

“I don’t have any gloves either.”

Quinn halted, spinning on his heel and tucking his stick under his arm. He took her free hand, gently pulled it towards him, and un-velcroed his glove, “Use mine, it’s better your hands protected from Jack.” He repeated for her other hand, flashing a smile before heading to his brothers.

“Y/n’s playing?” Jack piped up, she nodded, “Cool! Now we have a goalie so Luke can play!”

Quinn scowled at him, “No, we have even teams. Y/n’s the oldest so she can choose her teammate.” He wasn’t wrong, she was just about older than Quinn, not by much. 

“I pick Quinn. He’s gonna teach me how to play though.” The choice wasn’t much of a surprise to Jack, he may have been nine but the moment his brother stopped their game - a rare occurrence -  and laid eyes on her, he figured that Quinn’s priorities had shifted and all of a sudden their trio would develop to a quartet. 

Jack let out an elongated whine, “She doesn’t know how to play? Quiiiiinn!!”

“So? We didn’t at one point.” Quinn asserted in his stern tone. That was the last complaint Jack made. He watched his older brother teach her visually with patience; hand positioning on the stick, stance how low she needed to be, how to shoot and manoeuvre the ball, praising her passing to him. Luke and Jack watched quietly, the latter not too convinced she was a beginner at what he was watching but Quinn had never smiled that softly before, not even with Luke, and never had that level of patience with them. Seeing how encouraging Quinn was being, either way,  Jack knew exactly what kind of hockey player he wanted to be. 

Five years later Toronto still wrapped itself in its white blanket, pinching civilians with its cold hands and being a safety hazard to the roads for no real reason. Y/n had grown to hate it, not because she didn’t think it was beautiful, but because she missed the months when she didn’t have to spend five minutes just layering up before she could leave the house. What she didn’t hate was watching her brother be forced into shovelling the driveway. Her father and Jim seemed to have formed this alliance involving the youngest doing manual labour before school, and let Quinn, Jack and y/n watch and sit smug. Jack said it was because they skipped hockey practice to go to the arcade, which although no one would say aloud, she knew that it was her brother’s idea, that’s just eleven-year-old boys. She and Quinn neither confirmed nor denied the story, even if they had known about it the whole time, Quinn even heard them talking about it and y/n caught them at the arcade on their hands and knees scavenging for coins.

What had changed in those five years was life itself. Fifteen years old, the age when classmates' growth spurts became the bane of every parent’s existence, boy’s voices dropped and cracked and when everyone suddenly cared about everything about anyone. What they were wearing, how big their chests had grown, if it was normal for tummies to fold when they sat down, who was dating who, where the term ‘slut’ was thrown around casually, who was hot and who was not, what was cool and what was cringe - the whole ordeal that tore teenagers up inside.

Y/n hadn’t cared too much for what she wore, or how she looked until a couple of girls at school pointed out that wearing graphic t-shirts and cargo trousers made her a boy (which was absolute bullshit, but one person’s insecurities become someone else’s in adolescence), and that having a few spots on her skin meant she was ugly. And if it wasn’t girls tearing each other to shreds over minor things such as that, then it was the boys in constant competition with one another to be ‘the alpha male’, as Quinn described to her. The other thing about the situation was that someone had projected the idea that boys and girls simply can’t be just friends. And if by chance the two groups were, the belief was that one of them was secretly in love with the other, or they were using them to get to their friend or learn how to impress. Fifteen-year-olds really couldn’t decide if they wanted to kiss or kill each other on-site. Y/n knew what she wanted, but wasn’t sure if she was allowed to want it. Her friends asked her regularly; ‘do you prefer Jack or Quinn? Who’s cuter?’, to which she never replied, at least twice a month. 

Bang. Swipe. Bang. Swipe. Bang. Y/n and Jack shot pucks into the net consecutively like clockwork. With Luke and her brother at practice (this time) and Quinn out with friends, she and Jack were left to entertain each other. Usually, the eldest Hughes would’ve been the one shooting pucks with Jack, but the more y/n joined him, the more Jack preferred rallying with her. 

Jack took a firm shot, the puck darting but bouncing off the crossbar, thumping into the fence, and chipping the wood, “Oh come on! We had such a good thing goin’!”

She only giggled and watched him gather pucks to start rapid firing to make up for it. His eyes shined, a fire burning in them as he went on. She knew the girls fawned over him, worshipped him like some prince despite never speaking to him. She knew they thought he was pretty, she knew he was pretty with a charming smile and that Jack used to navigate his way around school. But on the ice that didn’t matter. At home that didn’t matter. Those girls would never know Jack, they’d never know that the moment something's wrong he’d run to Quinn, never know that he’d do anything for Luke and most importantly they’d never know that he and y/n spent more time together than either of them let on. 

“Are girls and guys your age allowed to be friends?” she blurted out, staring blankly at him. Jack lowered his stick and turned to face her.

“What?,” he said, dumbfounded at such a random question to ask on a Saturday afternoon, “Why wouldn’t they? Someone say somethin’ to you? Someone makin’ fun of you and Quinn? Did Quinn say anything?” 

He may be a little brother, but he was also, someone’s older brother. The way his boyish smile dropped and jaw tensed, the grip on his hockey stick tightened, how could anyone not think Jack Hughes was cute? 

“No, no- Quinn’s fine! Just that kids my age say that they can’t. That one of them always likes the other. But hearing what you said makes me realise it’s just dumb.” 

“Well, you’re a girl, I’m a guy and we’re friends, right?” his body relaxed, and he turned to shoot pucks again. Hockey mind, hockey heart. Y/n watched him momentarily before rejoining him, sweeping a puck from the pile between them and whacking it at the net. “You and Quinn are friends too, right?”

As she lined up her stick to take another shot, she paused, her mind draining, “Yeah, I guess you’re right,” she took the shot, Jack following with a toothy grin, “Rowdy, do you think your girl friends are pretty?”

She’d thought about it regularly if it was acceptable to believe your friends were attractive or if you had to believe they weren’t. It was hard to deny that Hughes had strong genes, Ellen was beautiful after all. Luke still had the cuteness of youth, barely grown into his features, Jack owned the blue eyes and pretty smile of a prince but Quinn? The dark curls and quiet nature was his forte. 

“Some,” he shrugged, “Quinn thinks you’re pretty. He likes your t-shirts and laugh.”

Y/n froze and looked at him bug-eyed. He snitched on Quinn so casually, like the weight of his words wouldn’t unleash butterflies into her stomach. At the same time, she tried to process the information, she couldn’t help but be curious to know what kind of conversation went down for Quinn to admit that. 

“My friend, Trevor, thinks you’re pretty too, but I think he just likes your boobs. Oh, one of Quinny’s friends said he’d take you, whatever that means, but Quinn literally yelled at him. I have never seen him so close to hitting a guy.” 

Trust Jack to spill all his friend’s and brother’s secrets, she’d expected nothing less from him. Quinn getting so riled up over a comment wasn’t on her bingo card, he wasn’t the kind of guy to react aggressively let alone hit someone, he rarely fought in hockey let alone outside of it. The other two comments didn’t mean half as much as Quinn’s, teenage boys were immature and violently horny, but processing what Quinn’s friend had - allegedly - said did bring a nauseating feeling in her stomach, but she didn’t think any of his friends would ever say anything like that out loud ever again, not while Quinn was around at least. 

*

Thirty minutes. Quinn had gotten home from practice thirty minutes ago and her phone hadn’t flashed once. Thirty minutes of constant checking for his name on her screen, although nothing new. He always texted her after practice, letting her know he’d be home if she needed anything, but this evening he hadn’t. If it were anyone else she wouldn’t have batted an eye, but she watched their car pull up on their drive, she watched Jack barrel out but hadn’t seen Quinn. While she waited, she completed her homework, milked Vine dry, and scrolled Instagram and YouTube wasn’t hitting. Y/n sighed, tossing her phone onto her bedsheets, grabbed her plaid pyjama bottoms and a t-shirt and concluded a shower should ease her mind.

It didn’t. She dropped him a text but to no surprise, it sat unread. Her stomach stirred, her gut feeling wailing sirens and adrenaline swirling through her body. Looking at the time, 19:48, and weighing out the decision that he was only next door, y/n slipped a hoodie over her head, threw her trainers on and crept out the front door to the Hughes. If he wouldn’t come to her, she’d go to him, prepared for whatever mood or situation he was in. 

She knocked gently twice, knowing she wouldn’t be waiting long since Jim was a prompt door-answerer. Even so, the breeze was nippy, her hoodie not doing much to hold her warm in the evening chill. The lock jolted from the other side, but Jim didn’t stand before her this time, it was Jack, who couldn’t have made it more obvious that his nerves struck him by his wide eyes and faltering jaw as if he were trying to get the words out.

“Is Quinn home?” 

Jack, stepped back hesitantly, letting her shuffle past him and into the hallway, “Uh, yeah but he’s pissed. Like, really pissed. Mum’s already tried to talk to him but…just be careful, remember that anything he says when mad, he doesn’t really mean.”  

She nodded, heart hammering in her chest as she carefully made her way up the stairs, tiptoeing around loose hockey gloves. The wall was covered in family photos and awards, y/n always noticed the photograph of all three boys standing outside last autumn, Quinn wearing the grey hoodie that was glued to him, Jack in full burgundy (hat and coat too) and Luke in a Michigan University fleece that looked a little big on him, all refusing to smile. The landing upstairs was fairly simple, the stairs being in the corner, and the corridor being a long strip. Luke’s room at the front of the house facing out into the street, Jack’s on the left side opposite Quinn’s, whose was on the right next to the stairs and Jim and Ellen’s at the back, facing into the garden. Considering they were neighbours, her house layout differed entirely, but after many years of running in and out, she memorised the rooms.

Standing outside his door, she knocked softly and waited for approval. She knocked again but also received no answer. She took a deep breath, bracing herself, she turned the handle and poked her head through the crack. He’d heard the door click, stuffing his navy sheets into his face as she padded in quietly, closing the door behind her. The pounding of her heart stayed, her palms becoming clammy seeing the state of his room. It was never tidy, but the laundry hamper being kicked over was new. His collection of hockey sticks that he was adamant to keep upright had toppled to the floor and going by the skewed photo frame on his wall indicated that he’d slammed the door harder than he meant to. Sending his sulking figure a glance, she repositioned the photo. One where the two of them sat in her living room, huddled together wearing - Quinn’s - Maple Leafs jerseys while watching the game. 

“Fuck off, Jack,” his voice barely audible, “If you’re here to chirp, I don’t wanna hear it.”

Quinn felt the mattress dip beside him, “Not gonna chirp you, Q.”

He shot up, the duvet whipping towards her to uncover a dishevelled Quinn, hair tousled and t-shirt crumpled from hiding under his covers for so long, “y/n? Shit, sorry. Are you okay?” 

Whatever sour mood that intoxicated him washed away and was replaced with concern strangling him. His eyes widened, he’d completely ghosted her, too wrapped up in his self-wallowing, stomach dropping at how close he was to taking his frustration out on her too. He ran his hands over his face, the giggle she let out soothing his mood like a warm embrace.

“I’m good. But a little bird told me you’re not,” taking his hands into her own, she pulled them into his lap, “You wanna talk about it?”

His gaze softened, shoulders slumping but heat rising in his neck as he kept their hands in his lap. She was so cold, although not far, she still came to him in thin pyjamas while the cold raged in a bitter attitude. Her thumb circled over his knuckles, attempting to calm him but instead of his heart finding a slow rhythm, it thundered in his chest unbearably. 

He shrugged, “Not much to say,” his jaw opened, fumbling to get the words out, “I don’t know, practice just went to shit. Felt like I could’ve done more, got screamed at by coach, alone, I was sloppy…but don’t pep-talk me, mum’s given me like, five.”

Y/n watched the light in his eyes fade, his voice becoming raspy the more he spoke about just a bad day. But a bad day was never a bad day with Quinn, it was the weight of the world crushing his shoulders as the oldest, and prodigy. If he slipped up once, it meant he would keep slipping up and let everyone down, let himself down until nobody believed in him anymore. She got it. She empathised, one of the only people in his life who could read his mind, dig into the crevices of his anxieties and ease them with just her existence alone. The more their skins held contact, the more fuzzy he felt inside, like a thousand flowers blooming in his chest at once.

“Wasn’t gonna. C’mere,” she held her arms out, letting him melt into her for a much-needed hug. Much needed indeed, Quinn’s arms hugged her waist tightly, burying his nose into the hollow of her neck while her fingers carefully threaded through his thick hair. Every insecurity that ate him up flushed away like the world had frozen and it was just the two of them, on his bed, wrapped up in each other with a confusing lightheadedness between them. Feeling his face nuzzle into her shoulder, her lips twitched into a smile and planted a chaste kiss on his hair. She realised she had done that seconds afterwards, as if she’d done it on autopilot but it was something she’d seen her parents do when seeking comfort, and she’d watched it on TV shows. Nerves choked her, hoping Quinn wouldn’t find it weird and shove her away, yelling all sorts of horrible things and never wanting to see her again. He didn’t. Instead, he pulled their bodies backwards into his mattress.

Unwrapping her arms from his shoulders, she propped herself up, hands either side of his head while his hands sat loosely on her waist. His throat dried and he gulped, y/n’s nose ghosting his, eyes meeting before darting away to each other's lips, only to scan features. Her ears burned, the butterflies in her stomach storming and in that moment she accepted that she did and could find Quinn Hughes attractive. His hands on her body, his captivating eyes, the brown curls, the mole on his right cheek, plump lips slightly parted. The way his awful mood was sidelined when he knew it was her in his bedroom. All in her grip, right in front of her.

“Come back,” he mumbled, arms snaking around her waist firmly. Y/n nodded, licking her lips with adrenaline surging through her veins. Did kisses mean anything? What did it feel like to taste another person? How did kisses work? There was only one way to find out, and she had the opportunity clawing for her, “Stay.” 

She lowered herself onto her elbows and tucked herself into his chest, her ear pressed against his pectoral, listening to his nerves pulse rapidly and laid her hand flat on his chest. They shimmied around, untucking the duvet from their bodies and pulling it over themselves. Quinn’s hand slipped into her pocket, sliding her phone out and placing it on his nightstand. She should’ve told her parents where she was, but with enough faith Ellen or Jack would say something. That was the last thing on her mind, the biggest crisis that set all alarms off inside her head was that she was cuddling a boy for the first time. She was sharing a bed with a boy. And she liked it. Perhaps more than she should have, this was her childhood best friend, a boy she’d grown up with, and although properly known for five years, had spent almost every day with him. 

Quinn’s eyes fluttered closed, a small smile creeping onto his lips yet he could never describe the mayhem that stormed in his stomach. He almost kissed his first and best female friend. In his bed. Alone. Where no one would know about it. He wasn’t ready to try and forget about it yet, move on and hope she wouldn’t think he was using her or thinking she was easy. His friends had said he was lucky to have a girl friend because it meant he could get whatever he wanted, not that he agreed with that stance. He held her close and firm, relishing in the company of another while it lasted, and before his parents would give him an earful about it.

*

Valentine’s Day was far too meaningful for teenagers, at least in y/n’s mind. You’re essentially celebrating a relationship that’s likely to end by the end of high school but acting like it’s the live-all and end-all. Or maybe she just didn’t understand the feeling or concept. No one had ever asked her out or asked her to be their Valentine before. She watched a couple of her friends go through it, one being over-the-top romantic with a bouquet, card and gift and the other being underwhelming, being nothing but a few words and a box of chocolates hand-me-down. He could have at least bought the chocolate himself instead of using one another girl gave him. 

With the final bell ringing a few minutes ago, the hallway was finally empty, only y/n and a few other students left at their lockers. She had time, her dad wouldn’t arrive for another seven minutes to pick her up since the Hughes boys left pronto for practice. She fished through her locker, checking for any love letters that could have been posted through the vents but to no surprise, nothing out of the ordinary. Did Quinn receive anything? Did other girls like his brooding demeanour like her? Did he accept any confessions? That hit her in the gut, hard. He wasn’t hers but why did thinking about sharing him make her blood boil so much? Exhaling sharply, she slammed her locker shut, only to come face to face with a guy who resembled Quinn, but instead of blue eyes his were brown, and his bone structure had chiselled out faster. He leaned against the lockers, arms folded and flashed her a smile. She thought she recognised him, he played on the same team as Quinn and Jack. His name wasn’t important (she couldn’t remember), but she’d be lying if she said he wasn’t attractive. 

“Hey y/n,” she smiled at him, “So uh, this ain’t easy but you’re hard to catch alone.”

“Can I help…you?” she bit her lip, the pit of her stomach becoming tight and tingly with his eyes never leaving hers.

“Just wondering if you’d wanna grab smoothies this weekend…like a date?” he didn’t speak softly like Quinn, he was loud and almost expectant. She wondered if he would pay, or if she had to. Quinn always paid, and always knew her order too. Even if she didn’t ask him to, he’d do it. Snapping back to the situation at hand, her breath hitched. She needed to stop thinking about Quinn. He wasn’t Quinn and the latter had nothing to do with him. Perhaps agreeing would get him out of her head. 

“Uh, sure but-” before she could finish, two of his friends burst out from around the corner, high-fiving and laughing like deranged hyenas. The guy in front of her also started laughing, looking down at her with a condescending glint in his stupid eyes.

“YO! That’s twenty bucks!” his friend yelled to the other, slapping his hand out, “Told you he’d do it!”

“Shut the fuck up, you got lucky! He caught her when Quinn wasn’t around.” The other grumbled, dropping the cash into his hand. 

The guy at her locker laughed, “As if anyone would ask you out, be real, y/n.” And all three left, karma soon hitting them at realising hockey practice started ten minutes ago. Y/n stood frozen, emotions swirling and nausea she could only describe as a whirlpool of humiliation and stupidity. She should’ve listened to her gut when it raised red flags.

As if anyone would ask you out, y/n.

He caught her when Quinn wasn’t around.

All she wanted was Quinn now, to run and squeeze him, but instead, she had a quiet car ride home with her dad to get to.

Quinn pulled his gear off aggressively, chucking his helmet into his stall, almost shoving the gear into his bag, disregarding how expensive the lot of it was. It was one of those days where he wished he could leave his stuff at the rink. He spoke to no one and no one dared talk to him, not even Jack, who’d warned his friends to lay off the chirping. When he’d overheard his teammates proudly laughing about what they’d done to y/n in the hall, his offensive-defensive playstyle switched to straight-up bloodlust with poison in his eyes. Now even in the locker room, his jaw clenched harshly and the other boys swore they could feel the rage radiate off his body. 

“Yooo, Hughes,” Locker Guy mused casually, a shit-eating grin smeared across his face, “why so worked up? S’just a game.”

Everyone eyed each other, although he was referencing hockey, Quinn was not in a hockey mood. He approached Quinn, throwing his arm around his shoulder while he packed the last of his stuff away.

“Silent treatment? Damn, didn’t know it meant that-”

Before he could finish, Quinn swung, right-hooking his cheek. Locker Guy stumbled back, cupping his cheek with wide eyes. He was stunned, the room was. Not even Jack had seen him hit a guy before, and Quinn didn’t think he would until then, but the adrenaline and aggravation just got the better of him and he’d seek revenge in any way if it would be for y/n.

“Take the twenty and shove it up your ass,” he slung his bag over his shoulder and grabbed his stick, “y/n’s not just a game.” And he stormed out. Jack bid goodbye to his friends, sloppily grabbing his bag and stick before stumbling out after Quinn. 

When arriving home shortly after, Quinn dumped his bag in the hallway, ignoring Ellen’s voice calling for him, Jack did a good job at covering for him. He burst into his room, rummaging around his desk for a post-it note, scribbling his mind on it. Pulling a small box from his school bag, he stuck the note onto it and rushed out of his house as fast as he’d rushed in.

He rang the doorbell and pounded on the door but to no avail. Her parent’s cars were absent but he knew too well that she had nowhere to be on a Tuesday evening. Groaning, he jogged to the side gate, rattling the handle and pushing it open, listening to it creak and click behind him. He didn’t bother sneaking around, the security light bright enough to illuminate the entire garden for anyone to try. If he hadn’t been in such a hurry, he would’ve taken more time to appreciate her mother’s handiwork: flowerbeds of pansies waiting for their time lining the fences, he remembered planting a few before the snow season. Quinn reached the back porch steps, walking up with a light foot and trying the back door. Locked. Of course. Spinning on his heel, he swore under his breath, completely jumping down the three steps and taking a short right to find the trellis on the wall.

“Mrs. l/n, I sincerely apologise for this, once again,” he mumbled, taking the box between his teeth and carefully placing his hands and foot on the wood, hoping that he hadn’t crushed any of the flowers weaved through. He slowly climbed until the porch roof came to his level. Thanking the heavens that the pitch was low, he used all his upper body strength to hoist himself on, ensuring his footing was secure, taking the box from his mouth and creeping up to her bedroom window. 

Y/n sat on her bed, cosied up in her pyjamas and laptop playing YouTube, anything that would redeem the afternoon she’d had, but nothing could prevent the tears from spilling out her eyes when the memory of it flushed over again. Her parents had gone out, and her brother went to his friend’s for dinner so she lucked out on being left alone for the evening, she didn’t feel like discussing how her day went. The quiet car ride home was enough, even though her dad knew something was wrong. 

The screen on her phone flashed, and she would’ve ignored it if it hadn’t flashed a second time immediately after.

Qutie At window pls open It’s cold

“The fuck?” she whispered, drawing her blind and sliding the window up, watching Quinn clamber his way into her room. She hastily wiped her eyes, “Q, you could’ve just knocked?”

He straightened out his clothes, closing her window, “I did. And tried the back. And here I am.”

“Oh…sorry,” she bit her cheek, “Q, I’ve had a bad day, I’m not really-”

“-I know. I know what happened, and he won’t think about it again,” he paused, peering down at the box in his hands, “actually he won’t talk to you again.”

“What did you do?” she asked, stepping closer with her arms folded, the sun breaking through her grey clouds after the storm.

“It doesn’t matter,” with a gentle smile and rosy cheeks, he held the box of chocolates out to her. Her gaze jumped from him to the gift in her hands and scanned the note stuck on top, the words written in red with little heart doodles. Her lips twitched upwards unstoppably and the blossoming warmth spread through her body and soul again.

Will you be my Valentine? - Q

“Sorry I didn’t give it to you earlier, I got swept up. I saw you looking at these the other day, it’s not much but I wanted to-” his speech was interrupted when she threw herself at him, arms wrapping around his torso tight and muffled ‘thank you’s just audible. 

Holding her close, he grinned, “-Anytime.”

*

That summer was the first year Quinn took y/n to the lake house in Michigan. If Jack was allowed to bring his friends, he refused to endure that alone, like Luke had to. Luke begged her brother to be his plus one, but he’d been swept up by his friends too soon. That was also the first time y/n met Cole and Trevor, the two Jack constantly talked about. They didn’t go to the same school as them, he’d met them through hockey camps and they didn’t sound too bad. Quinn always warned about Trevor, something about being a yapper but worse. 

Coming face to face with the lake house, y/n hadn’t expected it to be as large as it was, she didn’t really know what to expect when Jim described it as having a games room in the basement that had access to the garden, a first floor that had a beautiful view of the lake from the porch and a second floor with five bedrooms. Yet there she was, standing on the driveway admiring the blue and white home as she’d never seen a structure that big before while Quinn, Ellen and Jim unloaded the car. 

“Y/n!” Jack called. She turned towards his voice to be met with two other boys, “This is Trevor,” he gestured to the taller one with tanned skin, “and that’s Cole.” The shorter one.

“Ah, Trevor, the one who likes my boobs,” she recalled, raising her eyebrow at Trevor, who elbowed Jack in the ribs, muttering a ‘dude!’. Cole chuckled at the embarrassment creeping on Trevor’s face, “s’chill. Not the worst thing I’ve heard but definitely something best kept unsaid.”

She may have been okay with it, but a certain brother listening in was far from okay with it, his knuckles turning white as he gripped the suitcases and his brows knitted deep on his forehead. 

*

She tossed and turned, frustrated that her eyes refused to stay closed. Every time, she’d fallen asleep, the thunder outside clapped and jolted her awake again. If it wasn’t the weather hammering down keeping her awake, it was Trevor’s snoring from the bed. Herself, Trevor and Cole ended up sharing the spare room, the boys in the double bed and y/n opting to take the mattress on the floor (she refused to lay next to either of the boys, even if that meant sacrificing the space). 

As she lay facing the ceiling, she weighed out her options. She either stay there and have the thunder throw her into a wall and have Trevor’s snoring rattle through her bones or find somewhere else to sleep. The living room was one option, but Jim was an early riser and she didn’t enjoy the idea of being woken up by plates and pans crashing around. Then there were the boys’ rooms. Luke also snored, she knew that first-hand from the journey to the lake house, kid snored like a champ the whole time. Jack wiggled too much, a true duvet twister, waking up with pyjama bottoms to pantaloons. And Quinn, well she knew he was perfect, warm and an incredible cuddler. It wasn’t a hard decision.

She poked her head out the door, peeking left and right. The spare room was on the right-hand side, next to the staircase, while Quinn’s sat at the back left corner. Slipping through the gap, she shut the door silently behind her and tiptoed down the hall to Quinn’s room. 

His room looked identical to his Toronto room, blue-grey walls, dark oak furniture and navy sheets, but less hockey. Quinn was a peaceful sleeper, never appeared irritated but his hair was always messy somehow. Y/n slipped under the sheets with him, rolling onto her side to face him. He stirred, snuggling into his pillow and his eyes fanned open. His eyelashes were longer and thicker than she thought, why did boys get that gift but not girls? 

“Hi,” she whispered, sleepy gazes locking.

“Hi,” he rasped, voice deeper than usual from being riddled with sleep, “can’t sleep?”

She shook her head slightly. Quinn smiled, opening his arms, rolling onto his back and letting her slot herself into him like a puzzle piece, her head on his chest. She listened to his heart, the rhythm syncing with hers as it lulled her to sleep, Quinn’s arms loosely around her, but enough to confirm that he had her and was still there while the weather screamed and cried outside.

At sixteen, y/n obtained her first boyfriend, Leo, which surprised her and her friends. Not because they didn’t think she didn’t deserve him, but because he was the complete opposite of Quinn and because he wasn’t Quinn. Blond hair, green eyes, chatty and outgoing, always referred to her as ‘princess’ and could be a likeable guy. Except her friends never asked if he would like to hang with them. They never asked if he’d like to sit with them at lunch. Rarely had interest in him and he had no interest in them. They tried to talk to y/n, but her head was too far on cloud nine to hear them. Of course, she took it to heart. They loved Quinn, so why couldn’t they love Leo the same? 

The Hughes boys clarified their view on her relationship from the start. Not because they were haters or didn’t like seeing their friend happy, but because Quinn’s glares burned holes. Jack and Luke simply hated him because he spoke shit about hockey, almost on purpose the moment he found out the four of them were close, and because he seemed to irritate their big brother. Quinn refrained from gagging every time he saw the couple together at school, a pang in his chest stabbing him always. But she was happy, and that’s the part that stung the most.

Her brother ignored him on the rare occasion he came over. He was a huge Quinn guy, and having anyone but him in his house felt wrong. Like a parasite invasion trying to take his sister away, he wouldn’t let her ride home with the boys in his thirteen-year-old mind, Leo always insisted they hung out after school. The first time Leo came over for dinner, her brother ensured he displayed all the photographs of the Hughes family and his family together, especially the ones of y/n and Quinn. On another occasion he watched a movie with them, just to be annoying. Leo had tried to get y/n alone in the kitchen, hands on her hips and drawing her close, speaking sweet nothings into her lips and finding the panic in her face adorable. Their lips almost connecting, skin burning like wildfire until three, rubber pucks slammed into the targets that hung on the net in the garden, her brother standing proudly with his hockey stick in hand and side-eyeing the kitchen window, giving y/n time to catch her breath and gather her mind before the blond in front of her swore loudly.

What was everyone’s problem? Why wouldn’t they be happy for her? She was in love, a guy loved her for the first time in her life and she wasn’t even allowed to have that. Well, at least Quinn would be happy, and maybe she could convince him at least to let him join the lake house. Or she hoped. 

Quinn gathered the pucks out the back of the net, collecting them into a pile, the wrinkles between his eyebrows prominent. Y/n stood to the side, hands in her hoodie pocket, presenting her best attempt at puppy dog eyes.

“No,” he said, shooting a puck into the net.

“Oh come on, Q!”, she whined, “It’s a chance to get to know him, he’s a good guy. Please, for meee?”

He stood straight, turning to face her, “Y/n, I love you and I’d do anything for you, but the answer is still no. There isn’t enough space and it’s my lake house, my summer too.” He hoped she’d give up and drop the subject. The idea of y/n and Leo sharing a bed soiled his mood as it was, he didn’t want the thoughts to develop further into what else they could do. If Leo joined, he’d be alone, he wouldn’t wake up with her at least once, she wouldn’t even look at him and his brothers would never forgive him. Everyone’s summer would be ruined.

She sighed in defeat, “He’s the first guy to ever love me, see me for who I am and everyone acts like he’s got the plague! Q, my dad gives him small talk, my dad!”

He stared, a burning stare that ignited goosebumps along her skin, the hairs on end. They’d looked into each other eyes before, but she’d never seen this kind of fire in him. His breathing deepened, chest rising and falling as trying to calm himself down, nostrils slightly flaring. 

“Is that so?” he cocked a brow, his tongue poking his cheek, “y/n, we’re happy for you, but we miss you. I miss you. I miss getting smoothies, I miss Star Wars marathons, shit, I miss watching you make a mess of my kitchen when Luke wants cookies.” He missed falling asleep with her, calling him at silly hours in the morning, organising his hockey cards together, seeing her wear his hoodies and jerseys, and hearing her laugh. 

Her face softened, absorbing his cries and guilt swirling in her stomach. She didn’t realise how his voice beat every song she’d ever listened to or how when he was hurting, his tone was soft-spoken. She forgot how much she loved that, and how no one - not even Leo - could replace it. 

“M’sorry, Q.” She hugged him, like usual. The tight embrace with her head in his chest, feeling his arms wind around her shoulders in return, nose finding solace in the crook of her neck and kissing her shoulder.

*

Leo never joined their summer. He was never part of it from the start. When y/n fell back into place with her friends and stopped bringing up Leo, so much relief washed over her daily. The mini-argument with Quinn had paid off because exactly a week before she and the Hughes planned to leave for Michigan Leo had bid his thank yous and goodbyes. She thanked him for nothing messy, but his last words (and reasoning) gripped her around the neck: ‘I don’t think I’m the one you love.’

The moment she stepped out of Ellen’s car, slightly delirious from sleeping on Quinn’s shoulder the whole way, her muscles relaxed. She barely got a chance to stretch before Trevor and Cole came bundling towards her, engulfing her into a group hug while Quinn took his usual duties of unloading the car. All the boys had grown over the winter, Luke grew taller far too quickly, Jack, Trevor and Cole’s voices had dropped and entered that awkward phase where it would break at random and Quinn’s shoulders broadened, his face chiselling out. Y/n felt like the only thing that had changed about herself was the growing number of insecurities. She was at a lake, meaning she had to wear the bikinis she’d spent hours picking out, completely forgetting that Quinn wasn’t the only guy around. What if they didn’t look as good as she thought? What if they were far from flattering? Things she shouldn’t let eat at her but always would linger at the back of her mind. 

*

She lay awake, facing the ceiling listening to Trevor’s snoring from the bed for the second year, but it was worse now his voice was deeper. How Cole slept so soundly was a mystery in itself. At least the weather was silent. Yet her mind could not quiet, the events of the week replaying like a tape, glitching on the last few moments and repeating Leo’s words. With a weight in her chest, tears welled in her eyes. She felt so alone and abandoned in a room with an overwhelming teenage presence. She threw the duvet off, shuffling off the mattress, padding out the door and sneaking down the hall.

Quinn’s door opened enough for her to slip into the room and tiptoed over to his bed, crawling under his covers next to him. His hair had gotten longer, messier and the more she looked at it the harder it was to keep her hands to herself. His cheeks weren’t so full anymore, but the back of her fingers still caressed his cheekbone with a feathery touch. Her smile faded, she hadn’t told him about the break-up, she was supposed to tell her best friend everything and she couldn’t even do that, no wonder Quinn hadn’t spoken much to her. He was in the dark and it was all her fault. But he didn’t ask about him. Maybe he was upset because she hadn’t told him? No, Quinn wasn’t like that, was he? Was he upset?

“Trevor’s snoring?” he mumbled, eyes remaining closed. He heard his door click and felt his mattress dip and nobody else would risk waking him. 

“Mhm,” she hummed, watching his eyes lazily open, “part of it.”

He rolled over, pulling her onto his chest and arms around her waist, “I got you.” 

Her tears soaked blotches into his t-shirt, little sobs slightly muffled by the fabric as his hand stroked her back slowly. He held her close, letting her cry whatever consumed her out of her system while reassuring her that everything was going to be okay in his gentle manner. He wasn’t entirely sure what was so troubling but he had a keen suspicion it had something to do with Leo, she hadn’t mentioned him for a while and a large part of him was fuelled with adrenaline and hope that he was out of the picture for good. It lit fireworks inside him, and he wasn’t ashamed about it. 

“He dumped me, Q,” she sobbed, fingers balling his shirt into fists, “I don’t know what’s wrong with me.” 

Those fireworks inside him burst an array of colours, “Nothing’s wrong with you,” he said softly, “did he give you a reason at least?”

Her lip quivered, “He…he said he thinks that he’s not the one I love. I don’t know what that means! This sucks, Q. Sucks going from spending a lot of time with someone, having their full attention to just…not. Makes me gag every time I see my friends with their partners. I feel so…isolated, what do I do now?” 

Quinn’s lips fell into a straight line, hand still soothing her back. He knew he shouldn’t have been over the moon at the news, but God did he want to dance around his room and punch the air, maybe click his heels for good measure, “You want my opinion?”

He felt her nod, “You still have friends, and you need them more than a boyfriend. Have you thought about him since?” she shook her head, “Then there’s your answer. You miss the feeling, not the person. There’s someone out there who’s gonna love you tirelessly, treat you right and always come when you call. We’re only sixteen, we’ve got time.”

She thought about Leo, properly. She thought about how he spoke to people, and looking back she kicked herself for how she was too swept up in the feeling to realise how his charm was too enticing. She remembered the time he met Quinn, Jack and Luke for the first time, well Jack and Luke. He’d found out about their passion for hockey and openly shared how he thought it was ridiculous and an overrated sport, that all the players were mediocre at most. He told Jack he’d never make it to the NHL because it’s the sort of dream that stays a dream. Leo off the bat despised Quinn, calling him an obsessive creep when he walked into her house to retrieve Jim’s lasagna dish from her dad. Quinn ignored it, but Leo had seen all the photographs her brother put out, and proceeded to rant about how Quinn was just trying to add her to his body count. Quinn heard that, of course, he was only in the kitchen and if he was honest, he was flattered that Leo assumed he even had a body count. Then the kitchen incident flooded back like the rapids ride at a theme park. If her brother hadn’t interrupted them, she would’ve been kissed, but she didn’t want to kiss him and she knew that he enjoyed the fear in her eyes when his grip tightened. 

“Can I ask you something…” she peered up at him.

“Anything.” he looked down at her, voice just above a whisper. Her eyes had a glossy shine to them, even if they were red and puffy from crying, he still got lost in them.

“Can you say ‘princess’, for me?” 

He raised his eyebrow, but smiled anyway, “Whatever you want, princess.”

“Fucking hell it sounds so much better when you say it,” she groaned, burying her face into his chest, earning a chuckle from Quinn. It rolled off his tongue so smoothly, too well like it was made for him. The worst part was the tingling sensation in her stomach which wound through her heartstrings. All despair was eliminated and, once again, Quinn had pulled her into his rip. They lay in silence for a little while, but neither drifted off to sleep, just lying in each other's company.

“He almost kissed me, Q.” she mumbled into the dark, Quinn’s green eye disturbing his peace, “but I didn’t want to kiss him, the vibe was off. And then my friends bugged me about it.”

She pushed herself onto her elbow, propping herself up and gazing into his sleepy eyes. His palms fell to the small of her back.

“Have you kissed anyone before?” an innocent question turned sultry by his brain, heat shooting to his neck.

“No,” his gaze fell to her lips, “have you?”

She denied it. One had cupped her cheek, his thumb running over her bottom lip. She melted into his touch, heart pulsing in her ears. Deja vu burst into the room from a year before, where the last time she hovered above him she wanted to kiss him more than she should have. He parted his lips, the teenage boy inside him begging to peek down her shirt and his desperate longing to taste her colliding and dizzying his mind. Their bodies gravitated closer like a magnetic force neither could control anymore until their lips touched and two souls intertwined sweetly. It was an innocent kiss, aside from the accidental bumping of teeth, it wasn’t quite a peck but they relished in each other for no more than five seconds before pulling away with ease again.

“Can we do that again?” she didn’t need to say anything. She kissed him again, harder, longer, her hand sliding from his chest to his jaw as their lips fell into a pattern of connecting and reconnecting, elation surging through them as they fumbled into giggles. Quinn’s problem with kissing her was that no matter how much he tried to push it down, the craving to kiss her again clawed at him. All it took was a pretty smile and he could kiss her the rest of the night. Y/n’s friends bragged about their first kisses, who they were with and where it happened, but she held the crown for the first kiss in a boy’s bed and a meaningful kiss as the cherry on top.

*

Michigan’s sun roasted hotter than in Toronto, but it was a pleasant change from freezing all the time. The kind of heat that the boat’s seats would cling onto, and give you the worst shock of your life when sitting down, so when you sat down on the leather, you stayed down with sizzling skin. Although he’d been to the lake his whole life, Jack’s soul still left his body every time he threw himself onto the seats, usually blaming Quinn for not warning him. She was introduced to their boat last year, expecting only a small, fishing boat-like thing but to say her eyes grew so wide they almost popped out her head would be an understatement. She had limited knowledge of boats but her dad fished a lot so she picked up odd things from his raving, but the only way she could describe it was a traditional bowrider, with u-shaped seats in the back deck and bow seating. 

Jack and Luke had shoved past everyone and B-lined for the docks as soon as breakfast was over, Trevor and Cole not far behind and bundled onto the back seats of the boat. The driver’s seat was always left empty for Quinn, and the seat on the left side of the aisle next to the driver’s was always for y/n, furthest from the splash zone so she could read in peace. Unfortunately for Quinn and y/n, that also meant they were the ones lugging the cooler of water bottles through the garden and to the docks, handing it to Jack and Trevor while Quinn hopped in, holding his hand out to her and letting her make her way to her seat. 

A couple of hours being anchored in the lake, Jack and Trevor had three backflip contests, teaching Luke ‘how it’s done’ and Cole had won himself one hell of a sunburn. Y/n hadn’t taken her shirt off once, occupying herself by applying suncream to Quinn’s face and judging the backflip rounds. She mindlessly watched the four boys tussle around, pulling and pushing each other off the boat and playing in the cool waters. Something about this summer brought a yearning for adventure, maybe due to her age, to make memories or to distract herself from the sinful thoughts of what Quinn now looked like underneath his t-shirt. 

“I know you want to,” her head snapped to face Quinn, his voice dragging her out of her head, “I can see it in your eyes.”

She hugged her torso tighter, diverting her gaze to their feet. Was the first time wearing a bikini this terrifying for everyone? Maybe she should’ve started wearing them sooner. She’d be used to it by now.

“I’m not saying you have to, but,” he gulped, taking a deep breath. His next words could either earn him a smile or a slap, “I think you’re beautiful just as you are. And whatever those fuckers think doesn’t matter. Remember that you’re like a sister to Jack and Luke, they’ve got your back too.” 

A wide smile broke onto her face. Anyone else could say that and she wouldn't have batted an eye, but when it fell from his mouth like a song, the pressure was exiled from her body. Her fingers gripped the hem of her shirt, pulling it over her head. Quinn’s view darted straight to her chest, the bikini top complimenting her nicely, but too well for anyone but him to see (or so he thought). He didn’t think twice about it, it felt pervy and wrong, but at the end of the day, he was just a teenage boy riddled with fluctuating hormones. At least he wasn’t as bad or proud as Trevor, that was the bar. The top was enough. She kept the little board shorts on. Maybe next year she’d be braver. 

“Your turn,” with a cheeky glint in her eyes, she leant forward, elbows on her knees and purposely pushing her breasts together. Caught red-handed, in the act, Quinn Hughes. His cheeks burned red, glancing at his brothers and friends (who were on backflip contest number four) and back at her, slipping his shirt off. She raised her eyebrows when he said he’d been working out more, he meant it. When their gazes met, they both knew that if they had been alone with all the pent-up thrill, they would’ve jumped for each other, let their hands dance, feeling every new curve and dip and melt into each other like wax, moulding to however they wanted. 

“Not too bad yourself-” Before she could finish, Jack rolled onto the boat from the back deck with a clumsy urgency, throwing his towel over himself and standing in a wide stance, panting as if throwing himself onto the boat took all his energy.

“Thanks dearest,” pant, “big brother of mine and,” pant, “his girlfriend. Wakeboard!”

Quinn and y/n burst into fits of giggles at the assistance but it fell on deaf ears, watching him clamber in was funnier anyway, especially since the other three people who could have helped decided to watch and laugh too. No one denied the second part of his sentence, it certainly hadn’t gone unnoticed, but it had been taken two ways.

*

When the boys were little, Jim and Ellen had reformed the basement into a games room. It had originally been decked out into more of a guest house, with a kitchenette directly under the stairs and opposite were the large patio doors. But they found more use for it with the boys. On the left side of the doors was a c-shape sectional sofa and a TV and to the right a fireplace with a scoreboard for the pool table, which sat in the centre of the room. The bathroom remained in the back right corner. Most of the time, it was only used for video games and pool, as the distance from the bedrooms meant their screaming and arguing was pleasantly muffled but as more people joined their holiday, more friends were made either at the lake or with hockey people who owned a house on the lake, the room got its fair share of usage and everything was sound.

Until the Tkachuk brothers arrived.

Matthew and Brady were Quinn’s friends, Brady being one of his best and knowing Matthew by default. The Tkachuk’s had recently bought a house on the lake, within walking distance of the Hughes but you could hear them before you’d see them. Y/n had first met Brady when Quinn picked him up from his dock one afternoon, and she had no trouble getting to know him, especially when it came to him showing her photos of all of Quinn’s embarrassing moments from before her era at the lake house, and ones during hockey camps. She understood why Quinn got shy when Brady doxxed him like that, but she found it cute either way and he just enjoyed his two best friends getting along.

The seven of them - Y/n, Quinn, Brady, Cole, Trevor, Jack and Luke - sat in a circle, in that order, on the floor, leaning against the sofa, a bottle of vodka and red solo cups between them. The four youngest sat with stars in their eyes, like Brady had bought a mythical creature over, y/n and Quinn exchanged quizzing looks, shrugging.

“Yeah, how did you get this?” y/n asked, picking the bottle up and inspecting the alcohol percentage. 

“Matt,” Brady smirked, pride smeared across his face, “one of his friends has a fake ID, and said he’d get me a bottle if I helped him get this chick’s number.”

“And it worked?” Quinn mocked, Jack, Cole and Trevor did their best to hide their giggles.

“Nobody can resist a Tkachuk,” he peered past Quinn to look at y/n, “it’s the pretty eyes and dashing looks, right y/n?” 

Jack and Luke side-eyed each other, holding back their laughter at Quinn’s pout. Y/n shrugged, giving boys satisfaction wasn’t something she enjoyed, and seeing Brady dramatically hold his hand to his heart and act offended seemed to lighten Quinn’s mood. 

“Can we crack this baby open now? I wanna get drunk!” Trevor cheered, Jack and Cole joining him. Something like that would be exciting for fifteen-year-olds, but (not so) little Luke stayed quiet, shrinking into himself next to y/n. She placed an arm around his shoulder, presenting him with a warm, reassuring smile.

“You don’t have to if you don’t want to, no one’s gonna force you,” she murmured.

“Come on, Lukey! Don’t be a pussy!” Jack taunted as Brady poured him, Cole and Trevor a small amount. Cole took his sip first, his face screwing up immediately and coughing at the burning down his throat. Trevor cackled, tapping his cup with Jack’s and they both swallowed theirs together. Like karma, Trevor wheezed and held his chest, face scrunching amusingly at the kick. Jack didn’t get off lightly either, his throat feeling like fire and he shook his head, putting his cup on the floor. The rest laughed, hard. The three musketeers were so confident just to have it backfire. 

Brady poured vodka into his, Quinn’s and her cups, grinning from ear to ear and placing the bottle back between them all.

Cup in hand, she nudged Luke, “Do you want a small sip?” 

He hesitantly nodded, taking the cup gently and letting a tiny drop cover his tastebuds. That was enough for him to jolt back and shake his head. The three eldest bumped cups and swallowed the alcohol in one go, Brady cheering like he’d won the Stanley Cup, Quinn doing his best to suppress the sour expression on his face and y/n exhaled at the flare descending her throat. She and Quinn side-eyed each other, stifling giggles. The rush brought back the rendezvous of her sixteenth birthday where her parents had treated her to a bottle of vodka, specifically instructing she only drink it around them. Hours later when her close friends arrived, and Quinn of course, that bottle and a carton of orange juice was shared between them and drank dry, her bedroom swarming with drunk teenagers hiding hangovers in the morning.  

“Wow, my first ever drink turned out to be…actually not as pleasant as I imagined.” Brady’s eyebrows raised, watching the three musketeers urgently agree with him. Quinn and y/n’s grins widened, and they fist-bumped. They’d finally discovered something they had done before Brady. He’d relentlessly teased Quinn with his experiences as he was older, but it was due to Matthew being older. Now, it was Quinn’s turn, he was finally the cool, older brother. 

“That was your first?” Quinn teased. Brady blinked twice, opening his mouth to speak but closing it, holding his fist out to Quinn instead. 

“You didn’t add a mixer, it’s more bearable with juice,”  she stood up and grabbed an orange juice from the fridge. Sitting back in her spot, she took Brady’s cup, poured a little vodka and topped it with the juice, stirring it with her finger, “now try.”

He took a sip, the orange juice slightly outweighing the alcohol and it didn’t tear through him this time, “Okay, you’re invited to every party from now on. Dudes, you gotta try this.” 

One empty bottle later the group found themselves slumped back and blurry-eyed. Luke had gone to bed, terrified of the consequences if he were still there in the morning. Quinn and y/n leant into each other, Jack’s head resting on her lap. Brady’s ass went numb from sitting on the floor, but he feared that if he stood up, he’d just meet the floor again but with a bruise when he woke up. 

At some point in that hour, Trevor suggested truth or dare, and being too tipsy to argue, they’d all been roped into it. The dares hadn’t been too bad, but as Brady slowly gathered his senses, previous conversations and events flooded back to his active memory. With his sights landing on Quinn and y/n, it was like his and Trevor’s minds intertwined. Calm and collected Quinn had been giggling at others too much throughout the night. Calm and collected Quinn who never seemed to be fazed by embarrassment for too long. 

“Jack, truth or dare?” Trevor asked absently. 

“Truth.”

“Ass or tits?” 

Y/n ran her fingers through Jack’s hair and rolled her eyes. Boys. 

“Easy. Tits. Next. Brady, truth or dare?” Jack’s eyes closed, body relaxing when her nails scratched his scalp.

Brady snorted, “Hah, dare!”

Jack paused, thinking about what kind of dare Brady would come up with, “skinny dip in the lake.”

“Dude, if I stand up, I’ll fall. I’ll do it next time we’re on the boat, swear it.” They chuckled, watching his head shake desperately. Nobody would have to dare Brady to do something like that, you could just suggest the idea and he’d be down for the sake of a story. Matthew had shared many stories of his adventures when he was his age, and Brady was determined to be as cool as him and live a wild life like every day was his last day on Earth. “Y/n, truth or dare?”

“Dare, fuck it. Be nice.” Her heart raced, the words falling out before she could think.

“I dare you to sit on Quinn’s lap for the rest of the game.” 

Quinn’s muscles tensed, cheeks flushing when Jack sat up. He uncrossed his legs and let her manoeuvre herself onto his thigh, curling up comfortably. Without much thought, his arms winded around her waist, holding her close. Even though he wanted the ground to swallow him whole, a small part of him sobered up enough to appreciate the buzz of openly holding her.

“Cole, truth or dare?” she watched Cole perk up, his eyes absent like he’d just woken up. 

“Show us a pic from your ‘my eyes only’ on Snap.”

“Favourite porn category?”

“Who was the better kisser, Jess or Sarah?”

“Okay Quinner,” Brady’s turn circled back, rubbing his, nonexistent, beard as he spoke, “Who do you currently have a crush on?”

Quinn’s stomach dropped. If he didn’t like Brady so much, he would’ve taken the question as a betrayal. When he told Brady about his and y/n’s bedtime kiss, it was out of confidence, with his full chest, at his most vulnerable. Never did he expect him to reference it in public, in front of her and his brother’s friends. He then realised that Matthew also, most likely, knew. 

“Gone shy?” the youngest Tkachuk smirked, the other boys suddenly sparking back to life and leaning in.

“No, just never thought you’d be into gossip,” he mumbled, giving the blond a cold glare. If his situation couldn’t have gotten any worse, y/n shifted dangerously close to his crotch and all he could do was keep her encased into him and pray his shorts wouldn’t betray him like his best friend had. 

“If you’re into gossip now, what about you? Tell us which girl at your school has your eye, describe her, what’s she like?” y/n blurted. It was like she read Quinn’s mind. Or the stress in his face. 

Cole, Trevor and Jack’s heads whipped between the three bicker, smiles dopey and rubbing their hands together.

“Deflecting? Didn’t think you’d get so defensive-”

“-Not getting defensive, I have nothing to defend, but if Quinn doesn’t wanna answer, he doesn’t have to.” 

It was a relief that it was just bickering and not a deep argument, God help them all if y/n and Brady ever fell out properly, his ability to chirp and her intelligent stubbornness would not be a tornado to interrupt. But her protectiveness squeezed his heart, making the situation he was always in dreadful. 

“Oh really?” Brady laughed, “What about you since you have nothing to defend? Who juices your lemons? Or is Quinner gonna grow a pair and admi-”

What an uncomfortable phrase to start with, and if she took too long to answer he’d just taunt her more. She wanted him to drop the subject overall, it didn’t matter, but humbling him would, at least, cheer Quinn up slightly, even if what she was about to say required a conversation afterwards.

“-Matthew Tkachuk.” The name shot out like a bullet through Brady. His jaw dropped and a smirk wiped off his face. He knew his brother was popular, but never had he met someone his age admit it to his face. He sat back, speechless. Her heart thundered, Quinn could feel it, see the panic in her eyes while Brady saw a threat. Jack, Trevor and Cole sat like deers in headlights in the silence which engulfed the room. Quinn’s grip around her waist tightened, his brows creasing but Brady watched the light in his eyes sink and his hold on her become desperate like she would slip away if he let go. 

The thick atmosphere collapsed when Jack shot up and bolted for the bathroom, Cole hot on his tail, “I think I’m gonna puke.” 

Quinn’s limbs sank deep into the sofa cushions, but his eyes stared at the plant next to the TV.  Jack’s stomach giving up surprisingly saved their friendships and shortly they’d decided it was time to call it a day, himself, y/n and Trevor taking the sofa, Jack crashing closest to the bathroom and Brady and Cole sprawled out on the floor. Even after the drunken result of a stupid truth game, y/n’s back was still pressed against his chest. Not Matthew’s. His arm was around her middle, his face was in her hair, and he was the one cuddling her. No one else, but the thoughts still spiralled. If she did like Matthew and not him, could he be that angry? Matthew was older, taller, better looking (Brady had mentioned how Tkachuk’s had ‘dashing good looks’ so what could he expect) and far more experience. Had she even met Matthew? When? Was she seeing him secretly? What if she was trying all these new experiences with him just to impress Matthew, getting in practice so, when she was to kiss him she wouldn’t embarrass herself, cuddling him so she knew what to do? The possibility that she was as affectionate with a guy other than himself made him sick to his stomach, it was like Leo all over again but worse. They were older now, progressed more and feelings devoured instead of nibbled, whirlpools instead of ripples. There were plenty of other boys besides himself, and maybe having a guy best friend became convenient for her. 

With a tear slithering down his cheek, he buried his face into her shoulder and planted a sweet, but sad, chaste kiss on her jaw, fighting off the urge to sob until he fell asleep. 

Seventeen was a big age for prime-time adolescents, not quite an adult but not a little kid anymore. Risk and rebellion went hand in hand and doing everything you were told not to do was in fashion, so when you went to college you didn’t look like a complete bore. It also meant relationships started getting serious, people considering college and the survival rate of long distance, who had broken up and who was still together. 

After last summer, Quinn and y/n breathed Toronto air and they fell back into place, as if the Vodka Incident, as they called it, had never happened. Quinn had all her attention again and spent the autumn and winter doing his best to keep it that way. It didn’t take a lot, she loved everything they did together, her new favourite memory being when Quinn took her to her first Maple Leafs game once he’d passed his driver’s license. He also kissed her in the car afterwards, slow with his hand on her thigh, thumb rubbing the denim on her jeans. When they got back to her house, he had her pushed down into her bed, lips smothering her neck in timid, wet kisses while her cold hands snuck under his shirt, sending chills up his spine in the most pleasurable sense. He hadn’t thought about what he was doing, but his secure grip on her hips had her writhing beneath him when he’d found her sweet spot on her neck, experimenting with a nip to the flesh and almost cumming his boxers at the mewl that slipped past her lips. Their hips rolled and ground into each other with hands tugging on shirts, exposed collarbones and sloppy kisses to sensitive spots. They hadn’t even properly made out yet and there they were, exploring each other like territory and right before any clothes could be removed, Ellen rang him. It was an evening neither would forget.

*

“I’m tellin’ you, dude, they are not ‘just friends’, look at ‘em.” Trevor gestured in front of him, raising his voice over the music. 

“Trev, I’ve known them my whole life, they’ve always been like this.” Jack groaned, taking a sip from his Coke. 

Under the strings of fairy lights hung over the audience and the weather warm and clear, Quinn twirled y/n, hugging her from behind as they sang the lyrics to the country song coming from the stage. When Luke saw the ad in the supermarket one afternoon, he practically begged his parents to take them all, and being unable to say ‘no’ to their youngest child, they agreed. 

Luke and Cole had a blast, trying every food stall they saw, rocking the cowboy hats and singing their hearts out. It was safe to say that Luke still had a lot of personality, and Cole revealed his love for karaoke. Y/n hadn’t been to many concerts before, the overwhelming crowds caging and the fear that she’d get split up was astronomical. As they’d made their way around, wrangling up Luke and Cole, hurling Trevor and Jack away from groups of girls way older than them, she had her arm looped around Quinn’s. Ellen ran around as their paparazzi, no doubt planning to print all the photos off and stick them in an album. 

“Are you hearing yourself, Jizzy?” Trevor deadpanned, as much as the god-awful nickname amused him, Jack’s slow-functioning brain at the moment matched the stupidity of it. 

Quinn’s arms around her waist, chin resting on her head and they swayed to the tune of the song, bright smiles and oblivion to the world around them. It was just them, imagining the lyrics were for and about them, speaking to each other so they didn’t have to muster up the courage themselves. 

“Yeah. Look, man, think whatever you want, the Tkachuks get here next week, and if I remember correctly, Matthew was a pretty hot topic last summer.” Jack couldn’t lie, he didn’t remember a lot from the Vodka Incident. He only remembered Brady’s brutal truths, y/n admitting Matthew was hot and waking up with a sore head with the taste of vomit and vodka in his mouth. He also remembered watching the tears fall on his brother’s cheek. 

*

She didn’t want to believe that she was the person looking back at her in the mirror. She pulled at the straps and readjusted the ties and bikini bottoms, to see if they would flatter her better in a new position. She spun slightly, viewing the back and chewed her cheek. Did her ass look good? The top wasn’t too slutty…was it? Too much cleavage? Not enough? Why was trying to feel hot such hard work? She threw her head back and sighed, circling her thoughts back to last summer.

I think you’re beautiful just as you are.

Shaking her shoulders, she slipped her tank top and shorts on, grabbed her towel and left out the porch doors. 

Beads of sweat rolled down the back of Quinn’s neck. He didn’t need to look behind him to know Jack had invited neighbouring girls onto the boat, he could hear them giggling. He zoned out, staring at next door’s deck deaf to the world around him. Was shaving the right choice that morning? What if y/n liked his growing, patchy beard? But what if she preferred clean-shaven? He watched the girls in the windshield’s reflection squeeze the boy’s biceps, complimenting their abs. They adored Luke’s cute face and charming smile. It sucked being thirteen and enchanted. Quinn kept his shirt on, he wasn’t built like the others, and his confidence surely didn’t need dismantling. His fingers tapped the steering wheel, lips pursing until he caught y/n running out the corner of his eyes, his lips perking into a smile as she sat in her seat next to him.

“Who are they?” she whispered, leaning over, his New York Yankees hat perched on her head. He only shrugged, starting the engine and pulling away from the docks. “Well, I guess it means we get peace, at least.”

So much for peace.

Mila, the brunette in the pink bikini, saw exactly what y/n saw. The way Quinn’s hand held the wheel, casually yet so controlled, imagining them grabbing and moulding her like putty. The veins that popped on his arms, perhaps even his thighs, but y/n refused to believe that anyone else was looking at his thighs the way she did; unapologetically hungrily. She leaned against the back of his seat, pushing her breasts up as much as she could into the top of his shoulders, taking a longer strand of his hair and curling it around her finger. 

“It’s so cool how you can drive this thing without an adult, when did you get your licence?” she asked. Quinn kept his eyes on the waters, lips falling into a deep frown.

“Fourteen, y/n also has one.” 

“Oh,” she tilted her head, “cute. So, do you live here or is this a one-time thing?”

Y/n squinted. She knew she shouldn’t have let it get under her skin. She knew she couldn’t control everything but was seething would be an understatement. Some random chick, putting her tits up against Quinn, touching him the way she does. If she could just trip and accidentally knock her overboard she would. 

“Live here in the summer.” His tone was flat, not anywhere near interested and his t-shirt clung to his back. A smile spread across Mila’s cheeks, she and her friends were only at the lake for the week and proudly admitted they were on the prowl for some fun. She arched her back, popping her ass out, hoping he could feel her skin on the back of his neck. Y/n huffed, letting her demons get the better of her and she tugged her tank top over her head and wiggled out the denim shorts. This summer the board shorts stayed at the house. 

He choked when he saw. His first time seeing her in almost nothing. He was used to tank tops hugging her tits and little shorts, but seeing so much bare skin now changed a lot. The benchmark was removing her shirt, and now he got the full thing, in front of his face, within his reach and confidently like she wanted his attention and his only. She’d spent years worrying about what others thought about her, and with a little threat, the only thing she now cared about was making Quinn fumble over his words and remind him whom he pinned against her bed before summer. 

“Mila, you look a little squished there,” y/n stood up, “take my seat, Jack doesn’t bite, promise.”

“But then where will you sit?” 

Y/n stepped over to Quinn and gave him a wink. He leant back, heart exploding when she sat on his lap, bare skins touching for the first time and the pit of his stomach surging hot, the fireworks re-lighting and tingling over his skin and to his muscles, lips immediately spreading into a grin. He tucked his arm around her waist, settling his hand on her hip, fingers hooking the waistband in the leg hole of her bikini bottoms. Mila’s eyes scanned her, receiving her message clearly before plonking herself next to Jack, who happily gave her the attention she wanted. Y/n wrapped her arm around his neck.

“No shorts?” he murmured into her ear, voice low and rumbly.

“Remembered what you said a year ago, and I think you’re also beautiful just the way you are.” She toyed with the collar of his t-shirt.

“You should sit here more often.”

“Maybe I will, Captain Q.”

They giggled quietly, foreheads touching lightly and he kissed her hairline playfully while the backseat passengers caused havoc with the wakeboard, begging Quinn to let them show off their ‘skills’.  

In four days the Tkachuks would arrive. That’s what kept Quinn up at night. He had four days to muster up his courage before she’d slip through his fingers to the better man.

*

They watched the ball fly far, Jim standing proud with his arms folded in a wide stance, as dads do. Trevor high-fived Cole, throwing up an ‘L’ shape with his fingers at Jack. The middle Hughes puffed his chest out, placed his ball on the tee and positioned himself, re-gripping the club. He drew back and swung, watching his golf ball fly out into the distance. Y/n watched from the side, recording their turns for them like they’d asked, a smile on her face. Jim took them to the driving range after Jack complained that video games were becoming boring, and neither Trevor nor Cole had been to one before, and when four boys were bursting with energy, how could Jim say turn down such an opportunity? 

Y/n hadn’t played properly before either. Quinn had only taken her to crazy golf, and that was as far as her experience went. None of this correct positioning and firm swings. Though it was comforting watching Cole and Trevor not have a clue either, Trevor was a fast and eager learner, and Cole was just bad but there for a good time.

“I can show you how to do it if you want.” Quinn stood next to her, leaning down slightly with a low voice. When did he get so tall? She tilted her head up, the club in his hand sent her back to her childhood, the exact day she sat on the step with Quinn holding a hockey stick out to her. “It's your summer too.” 

She nodded and Quinn hooked his little finger with hers, leading her to the grass and placed a ball on the tee. She copied Jack’s stance, letting Quinn stand behind her, chest to her back as his arms engulfed her, hands over hers on the club.

“Draw back like this,” his breath hot on her neck as he drove the club back, “and then you swing. Just like we do. Yeah?” 

Her stomach fluttered, concentration droning in more on his voice vibrating through his chest. She nodded, licking her lips and the caged animal inside her chewing at its bars.

“Good girl.” He stepped back, letting her go. With his eyes glued to her figure, he watched her body take a breath, drawing back and taking a decent swing. For a first go, it wasn't a bad swing, not perfect but good enough that Trevor groaned about how unfair it was (he missed the ball the first time). 

“This is literally the first day we met all over again,” Luke said to his dad, who raised his eyebrows, more shocked that he remembered that day since he couldn't even remember his birthday half the year. 

The group next to them left, but the gap was soon replaced by a new one, a louder one consisting of late teens. One of them didn't stop walking, the blond one with curls and a mullet, and pretty eyes on par with Jack's. 

“Quinner! Jim! Fancy seeing you here.” Matthew Tkachuk, Brady's suave, crazy older brother and his posse who stood just as awkward as the Hughes and co.

Y/n shuffled to stand with Quinn, pressing into his side ever so gently. He placed his hand on the small of her back, smile fading into a frown while his dad chatted and brothers and friends continued their practice.

“Is that Matthew?” Quinn couldn't begin to describe the electricity that flowed through his veins upon hearing that she didn’t know who he was. However while part of him jumped with joy, the other part spiralled further and pressure added to his shoulders. There was absolutely nothing to stop Matthew, or his cooler, older friends from snatching her, and him, weak, little Quinn, trying to keep her in his rip was laughable. If it wasn’t Matthew (unknowingly) getting daggers, it was his friend in the back. The athletic one eyeing y/n shamelessly, nudging the blond in a cap next to him. 

“Anyway, nice bumping into you. See you fellas, Quinner,” He shot her a wink, “y/n.” 

Her face flushed warm, and she gave him a flirty wave before they disappeared into the office. Jim ushered his boys and friends out, Quinn remaining silent when he drove himself and y/n to the house, not even her hand on his thigh could cut through the thick atmosphere. 

The rest of that afternoon Quinn shut himself in his room, undisturbed. His family huddled around the campfire, making s'mores and the boys sharing their day with Ellen. Y/n prodded at the fire, adding more wood and sat back in her chair, glancing up at Quinn’s bedroom window. The light was out, blind and curtains drawn, fiddling with the drawstrings of her shorts. She didn't feel like eating any more s’mores, she lost her appetite with the empty seat next to her and overbearing twisting in her gut. The Tkachuk’s voices echoed from houses away, and she never thought she’d dread hearing their laughter until then. 

She didn't knock on Quinn’s door. She just let herself in, joining him in the sheets and laying on her back. His breathing was heavy, he opened his eyes and rolled onto his back.

“What’s up? You haven't said anything since we left the driving range.” She mumbled.

“Nothing.” Her head turned to look at him, unimpressed. Feeling the shift, he peered over his shoulder before rolling his eyes, “Didn't like how he looked at you.” 

He faced her, scowl softening, noses painfully close. His eyes fell to her lips, hand cupping her jaw and glazing his thumb over her soft skin. The twisting in her gut dissolved into heat pooling in her stomach, desire rising with every stroke of his thumb. 

“And how did he look at me, Q?” She rolled onto her side, rubbing her foot along his leg.

His breath shuddered, and his voice dropped to a rasp, “Like he wanted to devour you.” 

Shimmying closer, her hand pushed against his shoulder to lay flat on his back again. His hand never left her jaw, their lips closed in, ghosting each other as she propped herself up on her elbow. Getting jealous over a look, the way Quinn himself looked at her when she pranced around in her bikinis, hooded eyes and a lazy smile. 

“So, the way you look at me, Quinn?” Her thumb brushed over his bottom lip.

“Yeah,” His voice above a whisper, laced with nothing but provocation for someone to do something, for he couldn't take the aching in his cock forever. “I won't do anything you don't want me to…what do you want me to do?”

“I want you to devour me.” She whispered into his mouth, his lips hitting hers with force, pulling her body on top of his and another hand, slipping up her shirt and exploring the curve of her spine. A low moan emitted from her throat, his tongue running along her bottom lip and impatiently tasting the sweet melted marshmallows from the s'mores when she granted him access. It was embarrassing how lost she was; taking a backseat wasn’t in her system, but something about Quinn's tongue dominating and lapping at hers just made her seams burst and soak her panties then and there. It didn't matter how he knew what to do, or if he was just going with his instincts, the way his hands kneaded her flesh like dough drew whimpers from her throat and with a carnal desire racking her bones, she rolled her hips into his, paying extra attention to his cock stiffening in his shorts as it bumped her cunt.

“Don't stop,” he groaned, hands gripping the globes of her ass, “feels s'good.” 

He kissed her again, bucking his hips up into her. Her hands slid to the hem of his shirt, tugging the bottom up. Quinn hesitated but sat up, keeping her settled on his lap but hastily pulling the clothing over his head. It was like all the insecurity of not being hot enough washed away with the way she was dry humping, aching for his dick, finally alone for them to misbehave. 

She smoothed her hands over his chest, solid and defined, her fingers tracing over his collarbones and stomach as if he were a sculpture in a museum. Sure she'd seen him shirtless on the boat, but this was different. This was for her eyes only, she was allowed to touch and feel his skin and muscles contract and relax as she savoured every last drop of him. 

“Wow…” She muttered, the pad of her fingers joining his moles with an invisible line like a constellation.

“Don't say that, I'm not like Jack…or Trevor.” His gaze couldn’t meet hers. He didn't have a six-pack, a tiny waist or any sort of boyish charm to him. “Nothin’ special.”

She gripped his cheeks between her fingers, forcing him to stare into her eyes, “And yet here you are, in bed, with a girl who wants you to do disgusting things to her. You're special to me, shouldn't that be all that matters?”

Y/n let his face go, pulling her shirt over her head and discarding it somewhere across the room. She ran her hands down her chest, his eyes following as they travelled over her curves and to his hands. Taking them, she cupped his palms over her breasts.

“Take it off, Q,” She batted her eyelashes at him, his cheeks flushing, “I want you to touch me. What do you want?”

He slid his hands to her back, fumbling with the clasp of her bra and watching with an intense and desperate stare as the underwear fell from her arms, tits bare and in his face and the clothing launched into the dark. They felt so soft in his palms, squishy and so soft. He rolled her nipples with his thumbs, watching her eyes shut and mouth part through his eyelashes. He couldn't wait to feel them against his chest finally. 

“I wanna be the first guy to know how you feel around his cock, how you taste. I wanna be the guy you see when you're all alone, fucking yourself. I wanna hear you scream my name.” He pulled her in again, kissing her rough and messy, his hands leaving no place on her skin untouched and groping at her tits until he had her whimpering for more. With a groan rumbling from his throat, he flipped them over, hovering over her face of lust. Her pussy throbbed, and when his fingers pulled the bow on her shorts loose, she swore she would have cum right there.

“Can I?

“Yes, please.”

“Please what? I need words, pretty girl.” A flash of confidence washed over him, and he wasn't sure where it came from but his best guess was his core.

“Please fuck me, Quinn,” She gasped, rubbing her thighs together, “Please be the first to fuck me. I need you.” 

Diving into the column of her neck, he trailed wet, open-mouthed kisses down her collarbones and the valley of her breasts, taking one into his mouth and rolling his tongue over the nub. His other hand groped and squeezed, pinching between his fingers while she mewled like a song to his ears. 

Releasing her with a ‘pop’, his kisses graced her hot flesh down her stomach and finished just above the waistband of her shorts. He gazed through his lashes, and sat on his heels, wiggling the shorts down and off her legs. He couldn't help but stare, she was the most beautiful girl he'd ever seen.

“You're so fucking beautiful,” his voice airy and in awe, tugging his shorts off and tossing them aside. “All mine.

“All yours,” she repeated, propping herself up on her elbows. “Have you ever fingered a girl?”

He shook his head, hooking his fingers around her panties and pulling them off, taking in the privilege of being the only one to see such a pretty sight before him.

“Only seen it in porn, the basics.” He positioned his fingers, middle and ring, just to prove it. She smiled, taking his wrist and guiding him to her folds, gliding his fingers between them until he got the hang of it. 

“That's it, now rub my clit, firm but gentle.” He followed, taking her advice and circling her clit, peering up at her for reassurance. He got it, he knew he was doing it right when she collapsed back into his mattress, whimpering. Moving to hover over her, fingers gliding through her slick to the correct hole (he only knew from various conversations about the anatomy of a vagina she'd given, so he wouldn't look all that bad) and sliding one finger into her.

“You're so fucking wet,” He smirked. A quick learner, indeed and much too indulged in her spongy walls as he pumped his finger, “Princess, do I do this to you?”

“Yeah,” She moaned. His fingers felt so much better, more filling. “More, please.”

He added a second finger, drawing them in and out, curling, and he knew he was doing it right; she was writhing and whimpering beneath him, one hand fisting his sheets and the other locked on his bicep. His thumb nudged her clit on accident, but the way she arched and moaned had him circling it. She couldn't formulate a coherent sentence with the way he thrust his fingers into her, moving faster as she’d cried. Quinn still couldn't believe the position he was in. His naked best friend, underneath his almost naked body, with his fingers inside her pussy, hoping to make her cum and lose his virginity. All while his family sat outside without a clue. 

“Shit, like that-” she bucked her hips to match his pace, “So good, just like I dreamt, Quinn.”

“Oh yeah? You dream about…me?” He grumbled, his voice low.

“Yes!”

The knot inside her stomach tightened, her cunt clenching and swallowing his fingers like they were made for him. It had her wondering what else Quinn could do to her, how else he could make her cum, because the way his fingers curled as if he was summoning her climax was dizzying. Who knew that out of everyone, it would be Quinn making her squirm, Quinn's name slipping from her lips as his fingers stroked her walls and had her begging for more, Quinn causing her eyes to become half-lidded with a lazy and coquettish smile, plaguing her thoughts with dirty desires on how many other ways she could clench around him. 

“Gonna cum, Quinn,” She panted, squeezing her eyes closed.

“Anything you want, princess. Anything.” He pumped faster, her core relaxing and his fingers blessed with warmth leaking from her. He pulled his fingers out slowly, eyes locking with hers as he placed them on his tongue, tasting her flavour.

“You taste amazing,” He licked his fingers clean, a small spark of hope for the future inside him. “How was it? You okay?”

“I’m great,” She giggled, catching her breath, “With more practice, you’ll be a pro.”

He kissed her, y/n's tasting herself on his tongue, her hands in his hair, tugging at the curls on the nape of his neck. Something inside him screamed to stop before he became addicted, he needed her. He needed her in high dosages all the time, to feel her, to taste her, to have his tongue lap and suck hers and let their saliva intertwine like their bodies. He wanted to mark her up and call her a work of art. 

He pulled his boxers off and left kisses over her collarbones.

“Do you have a condom?” He did, actually. Only two that Brady had slipped him the day he told him about the first time they kissed. Quinn leant over and rummaged around his nightstand, y/n running her hands over his body, specifically grasping at his hips. Something about men's hips was so…sexy. She couldn't explain it and didn't need to because Quinn kneeled over her, erect cock on display and y/n, without thinking, gently took it into her palm. His hands trembled when she gave him a couple of strokes, in awe at what she was seeing. 

“You're so pretty, Q,” She kissed his tip, “all mine.” 

“Yeah,” He rolled the condom on, “all yours, baby.” 

Hand latching on the back of his neck, she pulled him on top of her, giving him time to line himself up cautiously before pushing himself in. Her jaw dropped wide, a gasp leaving her body and his head snapped to her.

“Shit, I didn't hurt you, did I?”

“No, it's just…new, keep going.”

He slid in until bottoming out completely, her head tilting back as her walls adjusted to his size. She had no judgment, but he felt good and maybe, just maybe he'd grow to feel amazing. There was only one way to find out. 

“Fuck, you feel like heaven.” He fell to his elbows, face hiding in her shoulder.

“Move, Q, please move,” She whimpered, “feels good!”

Quinn rocked his hips in a languid motion, back and forth, back and forth, his lovesick euphoria fuelling his stamina. With her arms wrapped around his shoulders, and whined in his ear, all he wanted to do was keep driving into her just to hear her ecstasy flourish. To feel her pulling him into an embrace of wet dopamine walls. Hooked on the feeling, he thrusted faster, groaning at the way she whimpered every time he pushed back in and his body surged with heat when her tits bounced against his chest. That was it. Just their bodies together. Together doing what nobody they knew had done before. Fucked their best friend, their person. Her Quinn and his y/n. In his bed, at the lake house, his cock plunging into her cunt with a luscious desperation serving the two teens a paradise of stimulation.

“Fuck!” He groaned, planting kisses on her jaw and her lips, “Say my name, pretty girl.” 

“Quinn,” if she could scream his name she would have, but hearing the low moan in his ear was enough for his hips to pound faster, “gonna cum, Quinn.”

She wrapped her legs around his hips, cock reaching deeper and the shockwaves of the angle feeding into his excitement. She was latching onto him like he was her lifeline, moans and grunts blending like a chorus the harder and more his hips rutted into her pussy with crude greed. No, it wasn't perfect, it was sloppy and beginner, as expected. But for the first time, y/n's cunt swallowed every inch of Quinn possible. Skins slapping and his cock hitting her cervix as she'd dreamed of, his voice in her ears, eyes steady on hers with a primal yet loving gaze as they worked through it together, tits bouncing with every rut and smiles bright with adoration at the reality.

“Cum with me,” he took her lips into his, tongues finding their rhythm as his thrusts lost theirs. “Taking me so well, princess.”

The pool of heat in her core was scorching, her seams of lust on the brink of bursting, Quinn's last few drags of his cock hitting the sweet spot right and a carnal, airy moan rang through his ears, her legs almost shaking. He took her through her orgasm, sticky cum filling the condom, his energy depleting, his hair sticking to his forehead but a fire still burning through his body. He wished he could have seen the display, seen the way she coated his cock creamy. 

He collapsed onto her, not pulling out just yet, he'd do that when his energy regenerated. For now, he lay chest to chest with his head tucked in the crook of her neck, her fingers running over his back muscles delicately as they caught their breaths. She could have stayed like that forever, his voice chanting shameless grunts and sweet nothings like a mantra replaying through her head, refusing to forget the image of him over her body in the most despicable way. What else could they do now? What more? She couldn't resist the temptation of thinking about his kinks, what got him going? What did she do that riled him up? Did he know that his arms were delectable? That she loved when his shirts got tight around his chest? 

“Did I hurt you?” His voice broke the silence.

“It hurt at first slightly but it's okay. You didn’t hurt me.” She smiled, one hand moving to stroke the back of his hair. “Are you good?”

She felt his grin against her neck, “I feel fucking amazing. You feel fucking incredible. You look so pretty, y/n. Always.” 

He was babbling, the comedown still holding onto him. While she did believe every word he said, was it in the moment or forever? She couldn't tell. She wouldn't know. But what she did know was that she didn't regret a single second, and wouldn't change it for the world. And that having him nestled inside her was comfortable, in the most filthy way. 

Quinn pushed himself onto his elbows, giving her a chaste kiss on her lips, “As much as I love this, I gotta clean us up and put clothes on before someone ruins it.” 

*

No one did ruin it. No one even questioned why they were in the same room, y/n waking up to his lips on her neck, leaving butterfly kisses until she'd grab him by the cheeks and kiss his face all over. That was the perk of sneaking into bedrooms for so long, people expected to see her emerge with Quinn, frothy toothbrushes hanging out of mouths and wearing a t-shirt that definitely wasn't hers (and he loved that). Back when they were fifteen, Jim had scolded Quinn for falling asleep with her, even if they did nothing. He received the uncomfortable teen pregnancy lecture that ruined the moment. It was the moment he realised that he would give anything to wake up next to her all the time, her face to be the first thing he saw and to start his day tangled up with her. Ellen wasn't as harsh on him, she knew her eldest wasn't irresponsible like that. Y/n hadn’t received a lecture at all. Her mother asked brutal questions on what they were up to, but her father just said ‘As long as you're not preggers’. He knew his daughter wasn't a fan of children so why would she be irresponsible? But now at seventeen, they’d really done it. And no one would know about it. And the sacrifices they'd make just to wake up next to each other every day. She'd love to see him in his disoriented, brooding state when she woke up, and if you asked Quinn or his family, she'd be the only one brave enough. 

With a dopey grin, Quinn's arms caged y/n into the kitchen counter, pressing himself into her, lips attached to her neck. Since that night, the urge for action became unbearable. The next week was pure sneaking around, making out in empty rooms, subtle touches under tables, hands travelling up clothes indecently far and bedtime shenanigans kept at a low volume. Like now, in the empty kitchen, rolling hips into each other and lips connecting and reconnecting with needy tongues tasting whatever their last drink was. What originally started as grabbing plates and fruit for the neighbourhood barbecue quickly melded into hips being shoved into the counter and being kissed breathless. 

“We can't do this here.” She lightly pushed him off her mouth, hands placing themselves on his pectorals, flat and copping a feel. His hands fell to the small of her back, eyes shifting to the blue bikini top he knew she'd worn just for him.

“Then let's go somewhere we can, pretty girl.” He said playfully, pulling her back to him. 

“Q, the barbecue. The Tkachuks will be here soon and Jim wants you to grill, he won't let Trevor near it again.” She slipped from his hold, taking the bowl of fruits off the counter and leaving through the porch doors, swaying her hips. He clicked his tongue. Matthew and Co would be there soon, but at least she hadn’t swept him under the rug.

When the Tkachuks did arrive, it was more like the Tkachuks and friends as Matthew’s posse also turned up. Not that anyone made a fuss, the Hughes were all for parties, especially ones that brought their kids together. 

One of the girls from Matthew's group, Layla, joined y/n at the garden table, which was arranged beautifully with snacks and plates. Y/n had barely heard the girl approach her until she saw her hand move the bowl of pretzels out of the way for the fruit bowl, and when she looked up she just blinked. Layla was gorgeous, with large, cat-like eyes lined with mascara and pin-straight blonde hair thrown into a bun. 

“Must be rough being in a house of guys all summer, eh?” She smiled softly. 

“Sometimes, s'not always bad. We have fun but the snoring is awful.” Y/n returned the smile, fiddling with her fingers. 

Layla held her arm out, “Come, have some girl time today. Boys are exhausting.” 

She wasn't sure if it was because she agreed with Layla, or if it was because an older and much cooler girl was inviting her willingly to hang out with her, but she looped her arm with Layla’s and was led to Matthew’s group. They were spread out on the outdoor sofa, drinks perched on the table and in their hands, laughing obnoxiously at assumably an inside joke. Y/n skin crawled a little, only a small smile across her lips as the nerves swarmed like a storm. Layla led her to the sofa, and she sat between her and the athletic guy from the driving range. He now wore a backwards cap and plain t-shirt. Nothing special but his name was Colton, going by the name tag that stuck out the collar of his shirt. Although in new territory, the other two girls wearing bikini tops and shorts brought a small dose of solidarity and comfort. At least she didn't stick out like a sore thumb. 

“Y/n! Glad you could join us!” Matthew's proud voice called from the other end of the L-shaped sofa. Her smile widened. Brady was right, Tkachuks did have dashing good looks but up close, Matthew was pretty. Very pretty, too pretty. “Colt, Zack, Ashley, this is y/n, y/n, Colt, Zack and Ashley.” He pointed to each of them.

Matthew was Matthew, pack leader and had a determined glint in his eye. Zack seemed too laid back for his own good, his blond hair still hidden under his cap, Ashley just waved quietly, knees tucked to her chest and Colton? Colton had the same brooding look as Quinn, but his eyes wandered a lot. And his facial hair was patchy. 

“Yo, you’re Quinn's girl, right? From the range?” Colton’s grin wasn't as charming as he thought it was, but his voice was. Gravelly, nice on the ears, not too loud but not mumbled. 

“I mean, kinda but we’re not together-” y/n began, nails scratching her collarbone.

“-nice, thought I recognised you.” 

“You guys will love y/n, Brady talks about her all the time. Did you know they almost fought?” Matthew mused like an excited puppy, even though the fight he was referencing was barely a fight at all. His friends raised their eyebrows, surprised that someone other than Matthew had raised their voice at a Tkachuk. 

“Matt, it was over vodka, it was barely a fight. He’s such a dramatic ass.” Not entirely true, again but rather that than the truth of what it was really about and how it ended. 

Matthew raised his hands in defeat, and Zack laughed. “Surprised Quinn even joined in. Usually, he’s the one huffing off.” 

She rolled her eyes, “He’s alright, fuck off. And it wasn't his first time either, he handled it a lot better than Brady.”

Quinn and Brady stood at the grill, flipping the burgers; Brady in his usual playful manner but Quinn with aggravation, like he wanted to hurt the burgers, charcoal them. They stood in silence, watching y/n with the older Tkachuk and his friends treat y/n like royalty across the garden. Quinn's grip on the tongs so tight his knuckles turned white, his glare sharp as she giggled. Her laugh echoed out through the garden, her real laugh that came from her stomach, the laugh he only heard when it was just the two of them. He flipped the burgers, his brows knitted and lips in a stone-cold frown. How she got so comfortable so soon was beyond his brain, but then again, perhaps the presence of other girls made it better, did she find being cooped up with guys awkward? 

“Quinner, you're staring. It's creepy.” Brady said.

“Am not staring, looking out for her.” He flipped the sausages.

Brady glanced over at his brother, with an almost worried look on his face. Y/n seemed…happy. She was chatting with the girls, poking fun at the boys but she was fitting into their summer nicely. Quinn looked over once again, his skin becoming hot and jaw clenching.

“I know what you're thinking. Matthew wouldn’t do something stupid like that. He may be an asshole sometimes but he's got morals. Besides, he's got the NHL, he wouldn't do something that could ruin that for him.” 

“Sorry…I just,” Quinn sighed, “I'm not used to not having her attention. We've spent almost all of our time together, and it's just…weird. Wanted our little group to hang out and shit. I dunno what's wrong with me dude. I hate when she looks at them like they're the best thing ever. I hate when someone else's name comes out of her mouth, I can't stand the thought of seeing her with someone else.”

“Then why not ask her out already? ‘Cause that sounds a lot like jealousy to me, Quinner.” 

“Why would I be jealous of them? It's complicated.” Quinn grumbled. Truth be told, he didn’t know how she felt. If he got rejected, he'd have to see her every day and act like nothing ever happened. He wouldn't kiss her again, touch her again, hug her again or wake up with her again. He'd be on his own, pining over the girl who didn't want him.

“Whatever, bro. You miss all the shots you don't take. But don't worry about Matt, believe me.” Brady shrugged, and they both watched the group from afar.

“It's not Matthew I'm worried about anymore.” Quinn gritted his teeth and made a mental note that he wasn’t the violent sibling and that punching people wasn't the solution anymore. He watched Colton throw his arm around the back of the sofa behind y/n, leaning in close. And when he thought his worst fears couldn't get worse, they definitely did.

Y/n retracted her shoulders like a frightened tortoise. She really was stuck between Layla and Colton, getting up and suddenly scuttling away just caused a scene. There was only so much fake laughter she could take before it became a chore, Colton had zero humour to his looks, but boy could he sweet talk. Throwing his arm behind her, thumb rubbing over her shoulder while compliments spilt from his mouth and into her ego. Quinn called her pretty all the time, but having a boy other than him call her flowery names released a new batch of butterflies. 

Colton's lips in her ear, mumbling with his husky tone, “Blue's your colour, y/n, anyone ever tell you that?” 

She shook her head. Such a liar, she was such a shameless liar.

“I hardly believe that, like how I don’t believe you when you say you've only had one boyfriend. Pretty girls don't just have one.” His eyes relaxed and became half-lidded, but her tummy flipped and hands clasped together in her lap. He was right. Pretty girls don't have just one boyfriend. They have a guy who calls her pretty girl but she doesn't know if she's just the token female or something meaningful. 

“Only the one. Not a lot of guys think I'm pretty, Colton, not any relevant ones at least.” Her eyes darted to the girls, but they were too caught up in conversation, not even Matthew or Zack could catch her message.

“I think you're pretty.” Colton's finger hooked around the strap of her bikini top, running it up and down the string, “Am I relevant?” 

The attention ignited fires along her skin, jolts of electricity throughout her nerves. An older guy thought she was attractive, that was new. And exciting. But also wrong. And felt like a betrayal, cheating, even if she and Quinn weren't together. But the attention and thrill, guys her age never begged for her, never looked at her the way he did. Even Zack agreed with Colton, proven at the driving range. For the first time in her life, she felt desired, hot. If she could get Colton, who else could she get? 

Before she could make her move, Brady's voice bellowed, informing her that food was ready. Better luck next time.

It's called late-night shenanigans for a reason. And this time as soon as the adults had retreated to bed, Matthew and friends plus Hughes and friends had red solo cups lined in a triangular formation on the garden table, music softly playing in the background while the porchlight gave them enough visibility. Their favourite game, beer pong. With cups full to the brim with cheap beer. The teams split as anyone would have expected them to, and no one made a fuss. 

Team 1: Matthew, Quinn, Brady, Zack, Trevor, Cole Team 2: Colton, Layla, y/n, Ashley, Jack, Luke

Forty-five minutes into the game Team Two (Colton's Canines) were leading. Team One (Matthew’s Hotshots) weren't far behind but Cole and Brady had a terrible aim for hockey players. Y/n's aim was almost too good, but her best-kept secret was that it wasn't her first beer pong game. This was why she was one of the least drunk people standing (Jack and Trevor barely able to stand, Jack doing his best to keep the beer down) aside from Luke, who was only allowed one cup given he was thirteen. 

Brady stumbled to the table, ping pong ball loosely held in his fingers as he lined up his shot, his stance wide to stabilise himself as the world pulsed around him. He would've been alright if the cups contained just beer, but he was the first to discover that it was beer in some cups and vodka orange in others. How it went unnoticed was a mystery, but you're only young once. Brady made his shot, the ball bouncing once skimming the rim of the cup, and missing. Colton's Canines cheered, y/n laughed manically at him, throwing up her middle finger jokingly. Layla retrieved the ball, lining up her shot, releasing but also missing, the other team cheering in return. 

Jack and Trevor's turn rolled around. Colton's Canines with four cups left and Matthew's Hotshots with two. Trevor poked his tongue through his lips, eyes trying to concentrate on the cups in front of him. He hadn’t been this drunk since The Vodka Incident. 

He winked at the girls in front, “Watch this ladies, a kiss if I get it.” He threw too long and missed. 

“Nice one, Trev. That first kiss isn't coming any time soon.” Y/n jested, shaking her head. The other girls giggled.

“Hey, I’ve kissed girls!” 

“Mhm, first time I’m hearing about this, what about you Jack?” 

Jack nodded, “Sure, sure. Anyway, my turn!”

Jack cracked his knuckles, positioned himself and took the shot, the ball bouncing once and landing directly into the cup. The Canines cheered, y/n and Jack throwing their arms around each other and jumping in a circle. Layla and Ashley gave the middle Hughes pecks on his cheeks as he watched Trevor down the cup of beer. One cup to four cups.

Y/n stood opposite Quinn, a bright smile on her face and his lips couldn't resist returning it. They couldn't help it. He didn't think, nor did he hype himself up. If there was one thing Quinn had learnt, it was that Brady was right. You miss every shot you don't take. And so he threw the ball and watched it bounce into a cup with a smug grin, the Tkachuk brothers hooting and hollering. Yet, his eyes remained on hers, gently. She chugged the drink and wiped the remnants from her lips with the back of her hand. 

“When did you get so good at beer pong?” She laughed.

“I had a great teacher.” He shrugged, y/n acted shocked even though they'd been beer pong buddies at every party. When they were split this time, it pained them a little. Being pitted against each other was frankly like the end of the world, never in their lives did they enjoy being out of sync. 

Y/n held the ball between her fingers, closed one eye and lined her shot. Large hands inviting themselves on her hips, Colton's voice in her ears and his breath unpleasant on her neck. If she weren't the centre of attention she would have jolted away, but the win was so close and Quinn’s arms were not so far. The ball bounced into the Hotshots final cup, Matthew and Brady both throwing themselves dramatically into Quinn, Cole and Trevor falling to their knees in despair. But Quinn's eyes pricked tears as he stood still and a rock. The Canines jumped for joy in each other's arms, hugging and laughing. Except y/n. She never got the chance. Before she had any time to even step away from the table, Colton's mouth latched onto hers, her hands moving to his chest. Quinn wiggled his way out of the Tkachuks, mumbling something about breaking the seal. 

The bathroom door swung open and slammed behind Quinn. His hands gripped the basin as he did his best to choke back his tears. Why did it hurt? Y/n was supposed to run into his arms like she always did and they’d hug longer than friends would, until eternity. But no one would question that because they were long-time friends. They were friends. So why did it tear his heart to shreds when the lips he devoured earlier that day melted into the lips of another? What was so fucking great about Matthew? Or Colton? And why was he such a coward?

Y/n pushed Colton off her, startled and heart-yearning for comfort. But he was gone. 

“Quite a shot you have,” Colton smirked, “C'mon, princess, I can give you my address and we can see what other party tricks you got.” 

“Pass.” Gross. Only Quinn got to call her that, but he was nowhere to be seen after she knew he'd disappeared, like he always did when upset. 

“Sure? Because it's a once-in-a-lifetime opportunity, think about it. You could be losing your virginity to someone who knows what they're doing-” he never finished his speech. Zack called him over, letting him know that they were heading out for the clubs and with that Colton was gone. As if y/n never existed. Little did he know, though, that his offer was pointless. Little did he know.

Even after agreeing that The Vodka Incident would not happen again, the usual suspects (even Quinn had returned, but with a face of thunder), mostly drunk, sat around the fire pit, with cups of leftover beer and vodka orange. Luke joined in this time, though Jack wouldn't let him drink any alcohol. A small sense of deja vu washed over, memories of the last fire pit night bringing a small smile to her lips as she sloshed the beer in her cup around. 

“I'm gonna be really real here, and you guys should too,” Brady pointed around the circle with his cup in hand, “I had my first kiss last year. Horrible.”

“Oh yeah? Explain.” Cole asked, raising his eyebrows and taking a sip of his drink.

“Neither of us knew what the fuck we were doing and we'd both just eaten tacos so yeah. Didn't taste nor feel great at all.” 

“Nasty. Bro, at least pop a mint beforehand. I kissed two girls a couple of years ago, it was okay. Nothin’ special, but we did crash teeth for one of them. That was awkward.” Jack chuckled, almost cringing at the memory. 

“Poor girl, the kiss probably meant something special to her, Rowdy.” Y/n absently pitched in, feeling Quinn's eyes on her, as if to say ‘What happens in my room, stays in my room.’ Was he ashamed of it? What was so bad about the kiss? Or kisses? 

“Of course, you'd say that,” Jack rolled his eyes, adjusting the backward hat on his head.

“What about you Trev? I know we joke about it but have you actually kissed anyone?” She sipped her drink.

“Doesn't matter. What about you, huh? Bet you haven't. Anyway, Cole hasn't either, or Luke. So I'm not the only loser.” Defensive Trevor was an amusing Trevor, he huffed his cheeks and flushed red. 

“I have. Fifteen. It was good, actually. One of the most memorable.” She crossed her leg over the other and leaned back in her chair, ignoring the shit-eating grin on Brady's face. Quinn said nothing, and nor did he want to say anything. He just sank further into his seat and finished his vodka orange, stuffing the cup into the chair's cup holder. “Brady, you ever made out with someone? You said that no one could resist a Tkachuk.”

“Ah, well- almost okay? Her dad turned up and we had to stop. Can't believe the guy, honestly.” The group laughed at his stammering, except Quinn, who'd probably heard the story a thousand times. “You think it's funny, y/n? What about you, huh?”

She leant forwards, hands gripping the armrests and the same shit-eating grin smeared on her lips, “Yeah, and it was hot. Would do it all over again.”

“Brady, you're forgetting Colton literally shoved his tongue in her mouth over an hour ago,” Trevor exclaimed, the musketeers giggling over the crackling of the flames.

Quinn's glare thickened, and Brady caught sight of it. Luke did too as he watched his brother abruptly stand up and head for the kitchen, his feet heavy on the porch steps. Her eyes softened and followed him, watching him slide the doors open with an aggravation alien for him. 

“I'll be right back.” She spoke over Jack.

Jogging in her flip flops up the stairs and into the kitchen, closing the door gently. Cautiously, she followed Quinn to the fridge, watching him yank a Fanta from the shelf and close the door harshly.

“Hey Q, are you okay?” She asked with a small voice, picking the skin on her thumb.

“Yeah, I'm fine,” He pulled the can's tab, the fizz echoing through the empty room. It was always ‘I'm good’, never ‘I'm fine’. She'd known him long enough to know something like that, like how he always removed himself when he was in a bad mood, scared to hurt someone's feelings. “Shouldn't you be with your new boyfriends?” 

He grumbled, barely looking her in the eye as he moved to leave out the porch doors, but she blocked his path, standing almost chest to chest with him, looking up. She hated that she found it attractive when he was mad, his voice always dropped. “No. We haven't talked properly all day.”

“So now you wanna talk?” He spun on his heel, slamming the can into the marble counter and pacing in the kitchen with one hand on his hip and the other running through his hair. It wasn't the time for the conversation, but a monster inside him taunted him with the idea that they may never have another opportunity.

“Yes. So, what? And who are you-” She folded her arms, but he interrupted.

“-Oh don't play this game! I saw the way you were looking at Matthew, everyone saw. And Colton? You let him have a field day. How'd he taste? Like cheap beer and cigarettes? Or an adolescence of putting you before himself?” He snapped, staring as if waiting for an answer. She'd never seen or heard him yell like that. Fuck, Quinn had never properly yelled at her. Jack and Luke had relayed stories about what Quinn did to his teammates when they humiliated her, or what a pissed-off Quinn sounded like. But they were his brothers, he was supposed to get annoyed at them, he wasn't supposed to get annoyed with his best friend. He hadn’t even yelled at Trevor like that, and that was saying something. 

Putting you before himself. Her stomach emptied, just a pit of guilt spiralling yet her heartstrings yanked and toyed with. She couldn't bear to see him like that, his jealousy manipulated him in ways he had no idea could happen. She learned he was possessive, and she thought it was sweet. She liked it. But she wasn't his so why should she like it so much? There. She wasn't his. Not officially. Their attraction was obvious, lustful. But did he feel the same as her? Did his heart slow when tangled in each other's arms? Did he find her utterly intoxicating, wanting to kiss and fuck with love not just because they can and because it's easy to? Maybe her hints were too subtle, maybe she was too nice to Mila that one time. Maybe her glares in the hallways weren't threatening enough. Words left unsaid, they were convenient for each other, just like the kids at school said. Friends with benefits. Yeah, that's what they were. And it used to keep the peace.

She never answered his question, but it did eat at her. “Quinn, what the fuck? Look, I'm sorry I upset you, I really am, you know I am. You know I never want to hurt you but can you blame a girl for wanting to hang out with other girls? I had no idea where Layla was leading me, and I don't know what came over me. Just, having guys call you pretty does things, emotional things and it's different when you do it because we're friends. And I know you're pissed about beer pong, if I could have been with you I would have 'cause I did not ask nor want to be kissed like that,” She pleaded, watching his eyes gloss over as he sniffed. The last thing she wanted to do was make him cry. Then she remembered that all of whatever was going on between them was nothing but fun, and Quinn was the one who showed her that. “But why do you care so much about a fucking kiss? We're not even together.”

He turned away and sighed, face buried in his hands. He didn’t mean to shout. He didn't want to cry but the tears welled and rolled down his cheeks. He wiped his eyes with his palms, heart pulsing in his ears and with the little energy he had left, he turned again to face her. 

“I care because I thought we were something, y/n. I thought this,” he gestured between them, voice trembling, “meant something real. Friends don't do the shit we do. I hated the way he touched you, you're supposed to be mine.” 

Her eyes watered, bottom lip quivering, hearing confession so raw. The confession of a confused and broken young man. They were only seventeen but the level of emotion in their argument made them sound like they were going through a horrendous break-up after a long-term relationship. “Am I? That didn't matter when you were shoving your tongue down Chloe's throat. I thought we were something too, Quinn.” 

The night she needed him the most, the night Leo dumped her, she found him in cahoots with some girl in their cohort. That was the moment she realised that perhaps she was just a placeholder. 

Quinn groaned in frustration, not at y/n, but at himself but there was no excuse left for him to make as he spat venom at her, “Like you, she took me by surprise. We were drunk. But didn't think you'd hold onto that since Matthew is soooo dreamy and tall and pretty, probably hoped it was him trying to rip your clothes off, hoped Colton would make him jealous. That's why you've been using me as practice, for someone better, huh?”

“Fuck you, Quintin!” she screamed, “the fuck are you talking about? Using you? Is that how little you think of me?” 

He pointed at her, firmly, “You and I both know it wasn't supposed to go this far!”

The silence that fell on them was thick and uncomfortable. Their gazes locked into each other as chests panted. Tears streamed from red, sore eyes as arms fell to their sides. Neither party felt victorious, deep down they really wished they hadn't said a word at all but the lake house makes emotions surge and disturb the serenity. It always had, with and without y/n, Cole and Trevor. He just wished he’d said something sooner, then he wouldn't have lost her like that. Once again, he was a coward and let her slip through his fingers. 

Y/n exhaled deeply, wiping her tears with the back of her hand, “Maybe. But part of me was glad it did,” her voice calmest as she stepped backwards and started heading out the patio doors, “Oh, and for what it's worth, I shoved him off. He didn't taste like hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. I’d choose that over anything.”  

And she left for the boys. Quinn's heart dropped and shattered, the tears falling like waterfalls and he didn't even want the drink anymore. He left it on the counter and shuffled upstairs. Hot chocolate and popcorn on a winter's evening. Their hockey game combo they share, just the two of them and they had been doing that since they'd met at ten years old. 

*

Y/n didn't sleep in Quinn's room after that. She didn't speak to him for the next passing week, occupying herself with Luke or Cole. She played video games with Luke, baked cookies with him, took him and Cole out on the boat (just to spite Quinn), and played pool in the basement. Quinn watched, unable to exit the proximity of them. He wasn't seething. He was deflated. Like a sad, wet, cat. Most of all, he was lonely. And he hated sleeping alone. 

Jack placed his plate next to the sink, watching Quinn's shoulders slump at yet another dish to clean. Sunday's were his day to clean dinner dishes, and usually, y/n helped him dry and put them away, but since he'd bitten her head off a week ago, he struggled alone. Jack hated seeing his brother dejected, it was the same hollow eyes that a lost hockey game caused. One where you tried so hard just to fuck it up. He grabbed the tea towel off the oven’s handle and started drying the dripping dishes from the draining board.

The middle Hughes. Rowdy with ambition in his blood, but also a brother. Jack took a plate, “Sooo, y/n's been spoiling Luke a lot this week. Why'd you get demoted?” 

Quinn glared from the corner of his eye. He knew Jack just wanted to lighten the mood, but he also knew he wasn't tuned in with comfort at his age. “I fucked up. Said something I shouldn't have said, an in-the-moment thing.”

“Like?” Jack placed a plate down, taking another like a system in a machine, Quinn washed, he dried, plate added to the pile.

“I- It's-,” Quinn stammered, remembering that no one had a clue what they were up to, “We just had a misunderstanding and instead of being mature about it, I said some stupid things.”

Jack thought hard, barely looking at him and set his gaze out the window into the garden, watching his dad put the covering over the boat. “You're my big brother, and if you think for a second that I'm gonna take that as an answer, you're wrong. At least tell me the root cause of it.” 

Quinn paused, his tone coming across as more irritated than intended, “I was jealous, Jack...sorry. And I walked off instead of apologising and here we are.”

“You're a real idiot, you know that, right?” 

*

Sunday night, a whole week of sleepless nights due to Trevor. And even Cole had started getting irritated. How could one guy snore so badly? And he was only sixteen. She lay wide awake, eyes fixed on the ceiling. Had she been too harsh on Quinn? Was silent treatment really necessary? She wouldn't have been surprised if Quinn was miserable too, they had been each other's pillars for years. 

Her trance of thoughts was broken by a ‘thud’ from the bed. She shot up, only to see Cole's pillow over Trevor's face, a disgruntled Cole still gripping it.

“Smothering crosses my mind.” He deadpanned.

Trevor sat up with urgency, letting the pillow fall into his lap, tank top crumpled to his stomach, “What the fuck? Why are you two awake? You should sleep.”

“Dude, your snoring is so bad, you gotta do something about it,” Cole said, taking back his pillow.

“I literally have to move rooms because of it.” She added, laying back down.

“Then why are you here?” Trevor lay back down, pulling the duvet to his chest. “Actually, why haven't you been with Quinn this week?”

She hesitated, “Q and I had an argument. We're not on speaking terms. And honestly, I don't think he wants to see me.”

All three of them lay facing the ceiling, listening to the whirr of the fan fill the void. The boys knew something was wrong, Quinn and y/n's separation wasn't hard to miss but keeping normality was best. Nobody wanted a ruined summer. 

“I think all he wants is to see you. You're his world and he just mopes without you. What was it about?” Cole's voice was soft and quiet so Jim or Ellen wouldn't come barging in again. That happened once when they were younger, all three had the giggles and Jim had to threaten to separate them. 

“Just a stupid misunderstanding. He said shit, I said shit and we both just hurt each other in the end…” she sighed, “I don't know what to do, guys.” 

They didn't pry, they weren't sure if they wanted to know what was said. After so many years of watching Quinn and y/n hopelessly pine over each other, an argument couldn't ruin that. 

“Well, as a start you could apologise. Make up, make out, whatever you two do. And for fucks sake, just talk. Like, really talk about whatever's going on.” Trevor replied, not really knowing what he was saying but he tried to be helpful when he could. 

She kicked the sheets off and opened the guest room door and whispered, ‘Thanks’ before slipping out. He didn’t mean right then and there but he shrugged, letting Cole fall asleep first before his snoring continued. 

Like a creep, she stood with her back against his door, mustering up the courage to talk and pushing her pride aside. She sighed and tiptoed over to his bed, and lay on her back next to him. His sheets were warm and cosy but heat radiated off his body. Neither said anything, but he felt her presence and it took everything he had to not engulf her in a hug and spill his apologies, he was still an insecure young man deep down. But hearing her breathing, he was also weak. 

“Hi,” she greeted into the silence, voice above a whisper. Quinn slowly turned over, threw his arm over her torso and buried his face into her neck. She didn't respond for a few seconds, but when she wrapped her arms around him, his chest fell weightless. “I'm so sorry, Q.” She mumbled into his shoulder, fingers finding themselves in his hair.

“No, I'm sorry, I shouldn't have come at you like that or said any of those things,” he pushed himself onto to elbows, eyes glassy but red, “I was jealous and I took it out on you. I'm so, so sorry.”

“I shouldn't have brought things up either, seeing you with a girl just…yeah, makes me jealous too, especially because neither of us communicated well. I take back everything I said, except the last bit.” She smiled slightly, her palm on his cheek. 

“I missed you,” his lips fell into a sad smile, his head falling onto her chest. 

“I missed you too.” She held him tight, “Why did you think I was using you?”

“Some kid at school brought the idea of just being convenient. And then when Brady came over with the vodka, you said Matthew was attractive. And I stupidly put the two together. Regretted it when you mentioned hot chocolate. I should've helped you, but instead, I got jealous and ran away.” His voice was hoarse, hand slipping under her shirt and thumb rubbing the skin on her stomach.

“It's okay. I should've helped you at the party instead of crying like a bitch. Guess we're both stupid.” She chuckled.

Minutes passed and neither dozed off, but neither spoke. His thumb caressed her skin, while her fingers played with his hair, their breathing pattern slowly falling into a synchronised rhythm. Once again, they lay in his bed, tangled in each other's limbs and once again they both rendered the same question. If they hadn't been afraid of all the possible answers, they could be happily skipping through meadows or sleeping alone again. 

She took a deep breath, and he felt her chest rise and fall. With enough courage, she muttered, “Q? What are we?”

He didn't answer immediately, but he pulled his hand from her shirt and hovered over her body, his eyes following hers: lips to eyes, lips to eyes.

“More than friends.” He licked his lips, but he couldn't read her expression, “I don't wanna be friends with benefits, and I don't wanna just be your best friend anymore.”

“Quinn…” 

He clambered off her and sat against the headboard on his side of the bed. Giving her no chance to react, he pulled her onto his lap, her thighs straddling his. Quinn's hands cupped the globes of her ass, and the soft flesh reminded him of how much he missed kneading and pawing at them. 

“Please, let me get this off my chest, I've been a coward.” He started, the fire inside him igniting when her palms slid down his chest and sat comfortably on his pectorals. Where they belonged, if you asked him. Quinn wasn't good with words, or feelings, it was something all the brothers had in common, and y/n eyebrow raised at how choked up he suddenly became when admitting to trying to not be a coward. “Shit, this is harder than I thought. Fuck- Uh, okay. When I said I spent my adolescence putting you before myself, I meant it. Valentine's Day, when we were fifteen, I meant to give you those chocolates after the second period, but my friends roped me into helping someone ask this girl out. That evening when you came to see if I was okay, and we fell asleep for the first time, my heart went crazy, I was sweating so much ‘cause I wanted you to be comfortable and I hoped you enjoyed it as much as I did.”

She took his face into her hands, feeling the heat rise in his skin and spill his mind. He pulled her closer to him, her stomach tingling at the way he massaged the flesh like his personal stress toy.

“Remember the concert? You clung onto me like I was your lifeline, I wanted to kiss you right then and there. And the Maple Leafs game, God after the Maple Leafs game. I'll never forget the way you looked at me like I was fucking treasure. Like I was your everything.” He stopped his babbling, hands giving her ass a rest and holding onto her hips, a small part of him kicking himself for sitting her too close to his crotch. 

“I never wanna hear you say that you're not good with words again.” Y/n felt her heart pound in her throat, stars in her eyes at every word of his laced with a sweet desire for redemption. “Every second I've ever shared with you was the highlight of my life. Since the day we met, you've been everything. I just wanted to be your everything too.”

“I feel like the luckiest man alive. Every day, all the time.” A glint of carnal passion glazed over his eyes as they steadied on hers. Her thumbs rubbed his cheekbones, his hands holding onto her for dear life. She couldn't stop her lip from quivering, the emotions that swirled had to be released. The butterflies had to be set free, the fluttering raging and heat in her core inappropriately bubbling. Quinn's room was silent, just the hum of his fan filling the crumbs of awkwardness as they refrained from pouncing on each other. He took a deep breath, puffed his chest out and took a risk bigger than any he'd taken in hockey, a risk with worse consequences. He could get over hockey but he couldn't get over her smile, or laugh, or existence. “Y/n, I have been in love with you since we were fifteen. You're the only person who makes me feel this way.”

“Q,” She breathed, pushing herself into him, closing the painful gap between them and connecting their lips into a long kiss, “Can we be real? Like, boyfriend-girlfriend real?”

He nodded, planting kisses over her face and down her neck, “Yes. Yes, please. You're mine and I wanna be yours. God, you have no idea how happy I was when you told me you didn't kiss Leo, you were still all mine.”

She giggled, his breath on her neck tickling her skin and the arousal pooling in her stomach dripping into her underwear, “Come here, I wanna kiss my boyfriend. Maybe show him how much he means to me.” 

She kissed him softly, hands sliding from his cheeks to the back of his neck, where her fingers tangled between the curls on the nape of his neck, tugging gently to tease a grunt or groan from him. His grip on her hips loosened, and his hands ran along her thighs until they groped at her ass again, encouraging her to roll her hips into his. They'd kissed before, but this time it was meaningful. It was something clear, not a bundle of questions of ‘what ifs’. When her teeth gently bit his lower lip, to refuse would have made him a criminal. The bliss that cradled him when their tongues met once again was different too, it was just his to taste. No one else's, he could lap at hers until they dribbled down their chins, delirium rushing to their heads when they moaned and whimpered when someone pulled away to breathe. 

The best part was the peace of mind. She didn't have to think about anyone touching him the way she did as she slipped their shirts over their heads again, hands roaming each other's curves and dips like it was their first time all over again. Before Quinn knew it, his hand was rummaging through his nightstand again, her clothes would be on his bedroom floor, his skin would be pressed against hers, and they would be under his sheets, rasping and whining as quietly as possible as his cock hit new angles, or as her throat took more than either had thought. The difference this time was that having sex came with a meaning, a feeling other than lust. It wasn’t a fun game, it was intimate and exclusive. It was with the red thread of fate, tied around their pinkie fingers, and it had finally led them into a sublime vicinity.

The usual suspects sat where the best times of their lives began. The night was young, the sun only just falling into slumber as the crickets chirped. Wrapped up in hoodies and lounging in lawn chairs, summer evenings nearly ended the same every day. Brady, y/n and Quinn with a box of beer between them, Trevor, Jack, Cole and Luke with non-alcoholic equivalents y/n had found, even though she’d seen them grab a real bottle when they thought they were slick, around the fire pit at the lake house. 

The harrowing thing about good times is that they fly too fast, and you're left wondering why you didn't have enough time. There are two kinds of people. People like Quinn who prepared to open a new chapter in his story, a new door in his life. And people like y/n who clawed at the door to keep it open, screaming for more time. Not more time with Quinn, they both got into the University of Michigan and after a year of dating, they still had many in their journey. But Brady was off to Boston University, and Jack, Cole, Trevor and Luke still had high school and their lives together would carry on. 

Brady broke the silence first, “Do you guys have any regrets?”

He didn't expect Luke to answer, given his life had only just begun.

“I regret not talking more to new people,” Cole replied, listening to the crackling of the burning wood. “Feel like I would have friends like Jack and Trevor, be remembered as me not known as ‘Jack and Trevor's friend’, yunno?“

“Dude, no! People know you as Cole! You're not just a third wheel!” Jack protested, hurt in his tone. 

“Cole, you're not our third wheel! We love you, buddy!” Trevor added, his guilt creeping up on him. 

“I don't have any, yet. Aside from being born so far apart from you losers.” Luke smirked, all smug like fourteen-year-olds were. Y/n grinned and shook her head at him. If there was one person who had a soft spot in her heart, it would always be Luke. 

“And it better stay that way,” she laughed, “Luke, I just wanna put you in my pocket and take you everywhere.” 

“Ahem, what about us?” Jack gasped dramatically, pointing at himself and his two musketeers. 

“Ew, you're annoying and Trevor’s snoring can only get fucking worse. Cole and I actually considered smothering him once!” y/n joked, looking around the group to see smiles. 

The laughter died down, and they went back to sipping drinks and watching the fire, minds wandering in separate directions.

“You guys will come visit, right?” Trevor asked, his voice the quietest it had ever been. 

“Of course. We'll be back during the summer, and we can hang out again.” y/n's voice was the softest it could have been with Trevor, usually she nagged as if she were his older sister. 

*

All good things must come to an end, and carefree days slowly dissipated for Quinn, y/n and Brady. The three stood out the front of the Hughes lake house, waiting for Matthew to pick Brady up on his way through. Not one of them dared to say much. They'd had their sappy talks earlier and if they started again late at night, tears were guaranteed. Especially since both boys were due in the upcoming NHL draft, that was one of the scariest parts. 

But she did say something. She wasn't sure if she'd ever see Brady again, and while she hadn’t known him long, she kept him close. 

She held her fist out to the middle Tkachuk with soft eyes, “Good luck, Brady. At Boston and in the draft.”

Brady breathed and pulled her by her wrist into a sudden bear hug, “Thanks, y/n. Good luck at Michigan. And if Quinner ever hurts you, you tell me, okay?”

She giggled as they pulled away, “Got it. Hear that Q?” 

Quinn playfully rolled his eyes, “Yeah, yeah. God, as if I'd want to do that…or have Brady rock up at my door ready to hit me.”

“I've done it before and I'll do it again!” 

Shortly after, Matthew's truck pulled up. The three bid their final goodbyes of the summer before Quinn and y/n watched the Tkachuks disappear down the road. 

“He'll go far, Q. So fucking far.” She uttered, her eyes wide with a childlike admiration. 

Quinn snaked his arm around her waist, pulling her into his side, “Too far for his own good.”

“And I expect to see you both on TV, okay? Don't hit each other though, leave Brady and Matthew to brawl.” 

“I'll do my best.” He paused, his smile fading, “What happens if I get drafted? What happens next?”

“You'll get drafted, and you'll either jump straight in or play at UMich for a bit. I'll finish university and who knows? We'll call and text, we'll figure it out and we'll see each other in the summer. Right here. I'll go wherever you go.”

“But what do you want to do? Like after you graduate? I don't wanna hold you back.” 

She cupped his cheek, “I don’t know. I don't know yet. I'll probably do something media or hockey-based, you know that.”

He nodded, giving her a slow and warm kiss on her lips, as if he were to never kiss them again, savouring the flowers that bloomed inside, all the fireworks exploding at once and the reassurance that in the end, he got his girl. The future was scary, and no one could know what would come next. But y/n finally stopped clawing at the closing door that she desperately tried to keep open, and hand in hand followed Quinn into the next chapter of their story. 

“I love you, Q.” 

“I love you too, y/n.”

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[unfinishedslurs]

gay bar (steddie)

“Well, well, well,” says a voice from behind. “Steeeeeeve Harrington. I must be dreaming.”

Steve turns around to see a guy, dressed in black and chains. Rings decorating his fingers, studs in his ears, curly hair pulled back in a ponytail. He’s hot, yeah, but something about him has Steve squinting, trying to figure out why he looks so familiar. 

“I know you from somewhere,” he says, pointing out the obvious. The guy knows his name.

The not-a-stranger snorts. “Of course you don’t remember me. Why would the likes of King Steve stoop to—“

As soon as the nickname leaves his mouth, Steve’s brain lights up. “Munson!” He exclaims, snapping his fingers. “You used to climb on the lunch tables to give speeches.”

It was so obnoxious, too. The kind of thing that had him and Robin reminiscing late at night, celebrating some of the weirder shit about Hawkins that didn’t come from monsters, or Russians, or government conspiracy. Remember that one asshole? Yeah, he stepped on my lunch one time!

Condolences to Robin’s pb&j. She never sat at that table again.

Munson’s whole face turns pink. “Seriously? That’s what you remember?”

“It was pretty fucking memorable, dude. Like, gross, doesn’t this guy know not to put his feet where people eat? Dustin thought you were so cool for it too. I had to nip that in the bud before he started imitating you or some shit.”

“Oh,” he says, voice gone flat. “Because God forbid some poor kid try to immolate the freak.”

Steve gives him his bitchiest, most deadpan stare. “Feet,” he says slowly. “Nasty, fifteen year old boy feet. On my kitchen table. He almost slipped and cracked his skull, and I would have sent you the hospital bill.”

He had to get creative to make him stop, too. Stood there, hands on his hips, and made Dustin tell him exactly how many germs he thought were on his shoes. Then when he tried to do it barefoot, decided the only course of action was to stuff Dustin’s abandoned sock in his mouth and ask if he wanted that shit with every meal. Erica still has the photos. 

Munson has the decency to look embarrassed, face flooding an even brighter red that wouldn’t be out of place in a tomato patch. “What are you even doing here, Harrington?”

What does he think Steve’s doing here? It’s a fucking gay bar, it’s pretty self explanatory. “My friend is here somewhere,” he says, waving out at the crowd of people. “She’s going through a dry spell, so…”

“Right,” Munson says. Steve squints at him. Does he look disappointed?

Eh. Doesn’t matter. 

“You gave my kids the best freshman year of their nerdy little lives,” he tells him, because he knows Dustin would want him to. Plus, the guy was Mike’s gay awakening. He should probably get some credit. “So thanks for that.”

He lights up. “Yeah! How was Hellfire in my absence?”

“I had to hear them bitch and moan for months about how it ‘wasn’t the same,’ but it’s doing pretty all right. Erica Sinclair is running it now.”

“Erica Sinclair…” Munson mutters, snapping his fingers. “Lucas Sinclair’s little sister? Lady Applejack?” He beams when Steve nods. “She kicked ass. Best finish to a campaign my entire high school career. How’s Lucas, anyway? And the rest of the runts.”

“He’s doing great,” Steve says. “College basketball at Yale. Pretty sure he’s dying under the workload, but that’s what you get for majoring in physics. Dustin’s at MIT, and Mike’s taking a gap year.”

He whistles lowly. “Yeesh, I don’t blame him. How about Byers?”

“Which one?”

“Zombie boy.” Steve’s hackles raise, but Munson just grins. “God, that nickname was badass.”

“How do you even know about that?”

Munson taps the side of his nose. “A magician never reveals his secrets. Besides, all it took for you to remember me was calling you by your high school nickname.”

“That wasn’t my nickname.” Steve rolls his eyes. “Literally three people ever actually called me that, and you were one of them.”

He has a feeling it was Tommy who started it, bitter and vicious. Told himself Steve was self possessed, high and mighty, above it all. That’s why he left his old friends behind. Not because he was in love, or because he wanted to be better. No, King Steve just sits alone in his castle, looking down on the peasants with contempt. 

Billy must have taken his angry ramblings and run with them. After all, what better way to get a start in a new town than declaring yourself royalty? Never mind that Steve hadn’t cared about anything like that for almost a year by then. 

Munson had just been a drama-loving asshole. 

“That can’t be right.”

“I stopped being popular in junior year. Why the hell would anyone call a sophomore King?” Steve points out. 

“You were Prom King.”

“Again, in junior year. Pickings were slim. Who else would it have been? Tommy?” He has to laugh. 

Luckily, Munson takes the hint and swerves the conversation into new territory. “You know, I always figured you’d be homophobic.”

Steve snorts. “What, and get kicked out for nothing?”

Munson stares at him, and Steve furrows his brow, looking into his glass like it will have the answer to why the hell he said that to this guy he barely knows. He just decided he wasn’t going to spill all his daddy issues to a near-stranger in a dingy bar, dammit. Is he already on his fifth drink?

Actually, this might be his sixth. That tracks. 

“What?”

“My dad caught me kissing a boy,” he says. If he’s going to give Munson his life story, he might as well commit. “Can you believe that boy ruined my life in three different ways? Two of them didn’t even have anything to do with the gay thing.” 

Maybe four ways, if you accounted for the way he broke his goddamn heart, but everyone and their mother saw that coming a mile away. Even Steve. Especially Steve. 

No offense to Jonathan. None of those things were really his fault. Or actually life ruining, but it sure fucking felt like it at the time. 

He should give him a call soon, actually, see how he and Argyle are doing. He misses the guy. Maybe he and Robin should save up for a visit to Cali. Get Nancy on it. They could see San Francisco while they were there, that’d be cool. Apparently it was the queer capital of the country. 

He’s thinking about asking the bartender for a napkin and a pen to write down the plans he’s forming when Munson speaks up again. Steve honestly forgot he was here. 

“I thought you said you were here for a friend.”

What?” Steve blinks, confused, and then catches on. “Yeah, to get her laid. I’m not in the mood right now.”

Munson cocks an eyebrow. “Wearing that? Could’ve fooled me.”

Steve looks down at his Springsteen T-Shirt that Robin cropped, and picks at the frayed hem of his shorts. Okay, yeah, they’re on the skimpy side, but in his defense it’s summer and even if he’s not cruising Steve likes being looked at. “Yeah, yeah. What about you? Here for anything in particular?”

“Just to talk to some pretty boys,” Munson says, leaning on the bar to flag down the bartender. Steve smirks, reaching out a hand to tug at the hanky in his back pocket. Pinned, damn. 

Munson whirls around, a flush starting to crawl onto his ears. 

“Wearing that?” Steve echos snarkily. “Could’ve fooled me.”

He swears that for a minute Munson’s eyes darken. 

He’s almost tempted to follow through, high school reputation be damned, when someone crashes into his side and nearly sends him careening. 

“Steeeeeve,” Robin yells happily into his ear. “This is Bernie, she’s gonna take me home, see you la—oh, hi!” She says, noticing Munson. “I know you from somewhere.”

“Eddie Munson,” Munson greets. “Steve and I went to high school together.”

“Munson! That’s it, you climbed on tables and had shit music. I’m Robin. Okay, I’ll call the apartment and leave a message when we get there. Bernie’s waiting on me, it’s-nice-to-meet-you-bye!” Just like that, she’s gone. 

Munson’s mouth has dropped open. “You told her I had shit music?” He demands. “Wait, you talked about me?”

“She went to school with us, dumbass,” he says, as if he can talk. He still barely remembers her as more than a vague, glowering figure in his peripheral. “It’s not my fault you blasted your screamy music for everyone in the parking lot. Such a fucking headache, God.”

Munson turns his nose up. “Sorry for having offended your jock sensibilities.”

“Oh, I don’t play anymore,” he says, and knocks on his head. “Concussions, yanno. Apparently brain damage will fuck you up. Who knew?”

“What, like the fight you had with Byers? He did you that bad?”

“He did me just fine,” Steve blurts out, before he can stop himself. Munson chokes. “Shit, sorry, I’m kind of a horny drunk.” Weird thing to say, Steve. “Also, I cannot stress enough how much I needed to be punched in the face. It was a monumental moment for me, you know. Started me on the path for changing my entire worldview. Plus, he was my first guy crush.” He swirls his empty glass, lost in thought, before brightening up. “I should call him!”

Munson is staring at him, mouth opening and closing like a fish. 

“What?”

“You’re drunk.”

“Well, yeah. Duh.”

“I should probably stop you from booty-calling the guy who punched you in the face.”

Steve wrinkles his nose. “It wouldn’t be a booty-call,” he says. “He and Argyle are happy together, man. I’m not gonna ruin that.”

“Oh, so you’d call him because…”

“I call him all the time,” Steve says, confused as to why this is such a big deal. “We’re friends.”

“Jonathan!” He yells happily into the pay phone. Munson is standing to the side, looking on in annoyance. Whatever, it’s not like Steve asked him to do this. “Jonathan, man, how are you?”

“…Steve?”

“Yeah!”

“It’s like…” he hears something clatter in the background, like Jonathan is looking for something, “two in the morning there. You okay?”

“I’m doing great!” He exclaims. “How about you? It’s been ages, man, I miss you.”

“This is so fucking weird,” Munson whispers behind him. Steve ignores him. 

“Are you drunk?”

“No,” he says. “Well, maybe a little. Do you not miss me too?” He pouts, and Jonathan sighs loud enough he hears it over the phone. 

“I just talked to you yesterday.”

Steve frowns. “Yesterday? That can’t be right, it’s been, like, forever. Oh, hey, have you heard from Nance lately? How’s your mom? I love your mom, she’s so fucking cool. Does she know I think she’s cool? How’s Will? It’s been so long, is he taller than me yet? How’s Argyle doing with his degree? I miss you guys.”

“We miss you too, Steve.”

“Awww, Byers, getting soppy on me? Gross, man.”

“You literally just—yeah, okay. Are you alone?”

“Nah, I’ve got this guy with me, he’s walking me home. Oh! Dude, do you remember Munson?”

“Munson?”

“Yeah, Eddie Munson! From high school! The one who used to climb on tables and shit, remember him?”

“Jesus Christ,” Munson groans. “Please let that die.”

“No one is dying,” Steve informs him seriously, and turns back to the phone. Munson sighs. 

“Wasn’t he a drug dealer?”

“Yes! Yeah, drug dealer Munson! Did you ever buy from him?” He turns to where Munson is looking around furtively. “Did Jonathan ever buy from you?”

“How about we not talk about this here,” Munson says through gritted teeth. Steve sighs and turns back to the phone. 

“Never mind, he says he doesn’t want to talk about that. Not like we can judge him, but whatever. Maybe the guy’s turned into a prude—“

“Okay, give me that.” Munson wrestles the phone out of his hand, and Steve whines at him. “Hey, Byers,” Munson says. “Yeah, it’s Eddie. Or Munson. Whatever. Listen, I’m getting kind of sick of standing here watching Harrington slobber all over the receiver, can he call you tomorrow? What? No, I don’t sell anymore—yeah, total bummer, whatever. Listen, I’ll get him home safe—no, I’m not going to serial murder him. He’s gonna be fine, he’ll call you tomorrow—Nancy Wheeler? Like that girl he dated? Didn’t you—shoot me? Jesus, okay! I’m not gonna kill the guy, Christ. He’s gonna be fine, oh my God. He’ll call you tomorrow. Uh-huh. Uh-huh. Yeah, okay. Bye.” He slams the phone into its holder with more than a little contempt. 

“Hey!” Steve protests. “You didn’t let me say bye.”

“You can call him tomorrow and apologize,” Munson says. “Now c’mon, Harrington. I’ve been tasked with getting you home safe, and if I fail, apparently Nancy fucking Wheeler is going to shoot me in the balls.”

“Oh, yeah, she’s really hot when she does that,” Steve says fondly, and Munson splutters. 

“What, does Wheeler just go around shooting people? Does she even have a gun?”

“Of course Nancy has a gun.” Steve frowns. It was one of the sure things in the universe at this point. The sky is blue, Hawkins is fucked up, and Nancy Wheeler has a gun. “And she doesn’t shoot people, stupid. Well, she shot at Billy, but he deserved it.”

“Billy?” Munson mutters, starting to usher Steve in the direction of home. “Who the fuck is Billy?”

“He was trying to kill her first!” Steve defends. “I hit him with a car before he could, so she was okay.”

“Okay, yeah, sure. Why wouldn’t you hit some guy with a car? 

“It wasn’t some guy,” Steve says. “It was Billy. He was, like, possessed or some shit. Oh, and he beat me up. Total psycho.  And that was before the melted flesh monster.”

Munson stops and stares at him. “You know what, sure. Demonic possession. Yeah, okay. Some guy named Billy kicked your ass—wait, are you talking about Billy Hargrove?”

Steve lights up. “Yeah! You remember that? That’s one of the concussions I was talking about. I gotta wear glasses 'cuza that shit. Man, fuck that guy.”

“Didn’t he die?”

“Oh, yeah,” Steve frowns down at the ground. “Shit, I’m, like, speaking ill of the dead, aren’t I? Max wouldn't like that. Unfuck him, or whatever.”

“You wanna come up?” He asks. “For old times sake?”

Munson stares at him like it’s the craziest thing he’s said all evening. “‘Old times’ was your asshole friends calling me a satan worshiper and pushing me around in hallways, Harrington.”

“I know.” He grins. If he was sober he’d definitely feel worse about that, but as it is he’s pretty single minded. “Don't you kind of want to make me cry about it?”

Deer in headlights isn’t usually a good look, but Munson’s got the eyes to make it work. Or Steve is drunk. Either way, it’s kinda cute. 

“You’re drunk,” he finally says, stumbling over the words a little. If Steve pays close attention and ignores most of reality, it almost sounds like he’s trying to convince both of them. “You’re so incredibly drunk.”

“I’m not that drunk.” He totally is. 

“I just had to supervise you calling Jonathan Byers so you didn’t say something you’d regret in the morning.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Steve asks, offended. “I love Jonathan! I tell him all the time. Just because I said he ruined my life—“

“That was him?”

“Did I not say that? Huh. Whatever. Point is, I’m not that drunk.”

“You’re definitely drunk,” Munson says. “I’m not—yeah, no. I’m not coming up.”

“Damn.” Steve shrugs, not too put out about it. It’s a bummer, sure, but he handles rejection like a champ. Just ask Robin. “Worth a shot. See you ‘round, Munson.”

“Don’t kill me,” Steve says. 

“Oh, god, did you punch him?”

“No, I, uh.” Steve rubs the bridge of his nose. “I think I tried to fuck him.”

He has to hold the phone away from his face so Dustin’s screeching doesn’t break his eardrums. 

“Your exes are weirdly protective of you,” Munson says blandly. “Also, didn’t they date?”

“Yeah,” Steve shrugs, not exactly eager to start spilling his life story again now that he’s sober. Munson doesn’t need to know more about his dating history than he already does. “We’re all a little weird about each other, sorry.”

“Weird about your exes,” he hums. “No wonder you’re single.”

“Oh, fuck you. It’s not like that.”

He raises an eyebrow. “No?”

“Are you always this nosy?” Steve asks, a little waspish. 

“Absolutely,” Munson replies without hesitation. “I’d say sorry, but I’m not. When did you even date him?”

“Dude.”

Munson just cocks an expectant eyebrow, hip resting against the bar. He can’t imagine why someone would be so interested in the romantic lives of their old high school classmates. It’s not like Steve is about to ask what was going on between him and Chrissy Cunningham. 

“Well, Harrington?”

“First grade,” Steve answers, deadpan. He grins when Munson chokes. “Nah, it was actually after he and Nancy broke up. Fall of ‘86.”

Arms squeeze him from behind, and Robin slides into view, leaving one hand wrapped pointedly around Steve’s waist. She gets clingy when she thinks someone is bothering him, or when she’s just on the side of drunk that she gets possessive. She told him, embarrassed and hungover, that it’s because she registers someone he’s getting along with as infringing on “her Steve time.” Steve thinks it’s hilarious and kind of sweet, an obvious lesbian trying to pretend he’s her date. Especially because he gets the same way when he’s tipsy and feels like he doesn’t have enough of her attention, so she can't yell at him for being a cockblock. Cuntblock. Whatever the lesbians call it.

He wonders what category she thinks Eddie is. Of guy, that is. Not block-anything.

He'd actually be pretty damn happy if the guy miraculously changed his mind and decided to sit on his cock instead.

“What’s going on here?” She asks, almost cattily. He loves when Robin gets bitchy. It brings him back to their Scoops days, except he gets to see it turned on someone else. 

“I’m telling Eddie my life story,” Steve says blithely.

“Ugh. Who would want that?”

Eddie grins. “I’m curious about the adventures of a former king.” He dips his head in a bow, waving his hand in a flourish. “I don’t know if you remember me from last time, I’m Eddie—“

“Munson, I know. You stepped on my lunch in junior year.”

Eddie turns beet red in record time. 

“Aww, Robbie,” Steve almost coos. “Leave him alone. I wanted to be the one who made him blush like that.”

“It’s not my fault your boy’s easy.”

“Not my boy, clearly,” he mutters under his breath. “And if he were easy, I’d have gotten fucked by now.”

Eddie’s mouth drops open with a choked little sound. Whoops. Steve forgot volume control again. 

Robin takes one look at Eddie’s face and bursts into cackles. 

“He was asking about,” he waved a hand in the air, “the whole Nancy-Jonathan thing.”

Her eyebrows jut up. “You told him about the threesome?”

“The what?”

Steve sighs. “No, Robin. I did not tell him about the threesome.”

“…oops.”

“When?” Eddie demands. 

Robin gives him the evil eye. “Why are you being weird about this? It’s not gonna make him fuck you.”

Steve wisely keeps his mouth shut. 

Eddie does not. “Your boy here already asked,” he smirks, leaning closer. “I said no.”

Then, as an added punch to his ego, he twirls a strand of Steve’s hair around his finger and tugs slightly. Steve’s too stunned to protest. 

Robin watches the exchange. “Oh, no thank you,” she says. “Nope. I’m out. I don’t want to see whatever this is. Ugh, stop making me hear about your sex life.”

Hypocrite. “We have thin walls, Buckley,” Steve reminds her. He turns to Eddie and stage whispers, “She likes her girls loud.”

“Steve!”

“You do!”

“Oh, because you’re so quiet,” she snaps, smacking him. “How many times have I had to bang on the wall because you couldn’t keep it down? You wanna talk about loud? I know more about you than I ever wanted to.”

His mouth drops open in mortification. “You know it’s rude to be mean to the man who told you how to eat out,” he hisses. 

“I’m not dying without fucking Eddie Munson,” he declares. “I mean, his high school nickname was literally ‘The Freak.’ He’s got to be good in bed, right?”

“I think that was mostly because everyone thought he was communing with the Devil or something.”

“Maybe the Devil gave him sex magic.”

“Of course he thinks I’m cute.”

“I do?”

“Do you not?” Steve turns to him, widening his eyes in the same pout that always has Robin throwing something at his face, or the kids reluctantly agreeing to do what he wants. He’s found it’s useful for guys too, especially if he ducks his head to seem smaller and looks through his eyelashes. Makes them imagine him looking like that on his knees. 

Munson is no exception. He melts faster than Steve can say gotcha. “You’re very cute, Harrington,” he purrs, and Robin snorts into her drink. 

“You’re a weak, weak man, Eddie Munson,” she tells a blushing Eddie. Then she kicks Steve. “Stop bringing out the ‘fuck me’ eyes when I’m around, I’ll gag.”

“You could leave.”

She gasps, affronted, and kicks him harder.

“So you would fuck me if I wasn’t drunk?”

“Uh…” he looks everywhere but Steve’s face, which is just rude. He has a very nice face. He’s been called dreamy before. 

Which made Robin laugh so hard she fell off the couch when he told her, but he’ll take the lesbian’s opinion with a grain of salt. 

He makes his way onto the dance floor. He’s not a particularly good dancer, but he shakes his ass like he means it. Gets up close with a guy, stares at Eddie the whole time. Keeping eye contact as the guy puts his hands on his hips. 

Look, he means to say. This could be you. You could lose your chance if you’re not careful. 

From the burning in Eddie’s eyes, he gets the message. 

The message is a bunch of bullshit. It’s been over four months, he’s in too deep to go fuck off with someone else now. Still, he enjoys the way Eddie’s hands flex on his thighs, like he had to stop himself from reaching out. 

The thing is, Steve’s not an asshole. He can take a hint. No means no, and all that jazz. If Eddie really didn’t want him, he’d fuck right off and find someone who did. He even started to.

Except Eddie pouted up a storm when he flirted with someone else. Got even clingier when Steve tried to back off. At this point, he’s accepted that Eddie does want to fuck him, and maybe even be more (no one flirts with someone as long as they’ve been doing without wanting something like a relationship out of it. At least, he hopes there’s something more on the horizon), but has some weird hang up about Steve being even a little bit buzzed when it happens. Even though they only ever see each other at this fucking bar.

The problem is Steve has no idea when Eddie will be at the bar. He’ll stay sober one night, hoping to see him, and then go home alone only for next time to be when he sees telltale curls and a wide smile. It’s driving him up the wall. 

Robin has been similarly affected.

“It’s been six months,” she growls as Steve looks eagerly around. “Six fucking months of you two dancing around in the worlds most annoying mating ritual. I’m going to kill both of you.”

“We’re not that bad,” he says absently. 

“You don’t even have his phone number. It’s pathetic. I swear to God, if you see him again and don’t get laid I’m reviving the scoops board. I will go out and buy a whiteboard to keep track of all the times you strike out with a man who used to walk on tables. He stepped on my lunch, Steve. Do I need to keep bringing up the fact he stepped on my delicious, nutritious PB&J? I can’t believe that’s the guy you decide to be obsessed with, that’s so fucking embarrassing for you.”

“Embarrassing? You mean like your crush on my ex girlfriend?”

She screeches wordlessly, pulling her keychain off her belt loop and attacking him with it. 

Naturally, that’s how Eddie finds them. 

“I swear you guys get weirder every time I see you.”

Steve grins guilelessly at him, holding a flailing Robin in a headlock. 

“Eddie! Hey! It’s been a minute.” He hasn’t been able to come in a month, and it’s been longer since he’s seen him. It’s honestly one of the deciding factors on whether it’s a passing fancy or a full blown crush. He still went to sleep every night thinking about Eddie. It didn’t even have to be about sex. 

Although maybe not sleeping with anyone else for half a year should have tipped him off sooner. 

“Sure has, big boy. I was starting to think you were getting sick of me.” It’s a joke, but Steve catches an undercurrent of insecurity. 

“That’d make my life easier,” Robin snorts. She finally wiggles her way out of his hold. “I saw Arty somewhere around here, I’m gonna see if I can crash at her place tonight.” She levels Eddie with a look. “He hasn’t had anything to drink. If you don’t put him out of his misery, I will. And it won’t be the good kind. It will be the bad kind. With bad screams. Lots of screaming, and someone will call the pigs, and I’ll be arrested and jailed for life. Do you want me to go to jail, Munson?”

Eddie shakes his head dumbly. 

“Good! Then do something about it.” She slaps Steve’s back, a mocking echo of his jock days. “Go get ‘em, slugger!” 

With that, she’s gone, disappearing into the crowd. 

“She is,” Steve remarks with amusement, “the worst wingman on planet Earth. Mars too, probably.”

“I dunno, I think it might be working.”

“I’m not doing anything without a condom,” he says, eyes narrowed like he’s waiting for an argument. 

“Me neither,” Steve agrees. “Robin has, like, this big fear of diseases. Totally got me with it. She pulled out the library books, those pictures were fucking disgusting. Shit showed up in my dreams, man. Neither of us do anything without protection.”

“I’m going to be totally honest with you, because I haven’t been and it’s starting to eat at me,” Eddie says, hovering above Steve. 

Steve wrinkles his nose. “What is it? Are you a spy or something? Are you Russian? Do you have superpowers? Is your name not actually Eddie?” He pauses. “Oh, God, you’re not even Eddie Munson, are you? I’m just some asshole who’s been calling you by my old classmates name and you were too embarrassed to correct me. Shit, we made so much fun of you for walking on tables too—“

“What?” Eddie covers his mouth, expression hovering between amused and baffled. “What the fuck, why would I go along with that? No, Jesus, I’m Eddie Munson. Moved to Hawkins when I was eleven, took senior year three times, walked on the fucking tables, could you let that go?” He moves the hand covering Steve’s mouth to play with his hair, looking annoyed for a minute before it smoothes to trepidation. “No, I, uh, I just felt like I needed to tell you that I used to have a hate-boner for you in high school. Like, I used to jack it to the thought of kicking your ass and making a mess outta you. In more ways than one.”

Steve stares. 

“Also, that’s kind of why I approached you in the bar in the first place,” Eddie blabbers on. “And then you said you were just there for a friend, and I was disappointed but it’s whatever, yanno? And then then you told me about your dad, and threw my expectations to the fucking wolves, and then you asked me to come up to your apartment except you were drunk and you probably didn’t mean it. But then the next time I saw you, you kept flirting with me, which you were not supposed to do, and I kept pretending that wasn’t the reason I even talked to you in the first place, and, uh, yeah.” He smiles nervously. “Surprise?”

“I mean, not really.”

“You’re such an asshole, fuck off. At least pretend to be shocked.”

“It’s not my fault you stare at my legs all the time,” Steve says, affronted. “I know I didn’t do too good in school, but I’m not dumb enough to miss that. Like, hello, my eyes are up here.”

Eddie lets his arms give out, flopping on top of Steve heavily. Steve wheezes. “Am I really that obvious?” He whines into his shoulder. 

“You got sad and pouty when I even looked at another guy.”

“You could’ve fucked him,” he mumbles. “The guy you were dancing with. It wasn’t any of my business. I’m a big boy, I can deal.”

“Yeah, but I didn’t want to fuck him,” Steve says. “I wanted to fuck you. Can we go back to that please?”

“Thought I was fucking you.”

“Someone’s getting fucked or Robin will kill both of us. I’d like to live tomorrow morning. And not have to deal with any more of her teasing for having no game.”

“You have unfortunate amounts of game,” Eddie sighs, tracing the side of Steve’s neck. It tickles. “It’s kind of embarrassing for me.”

“Yeah, yeah, are we using those condoms or not, Moodkiller?”

“Oh, I’m the mood killer?”

“Yes,” Steve says matter of factly, and pulls him in for a kiss before he can protest.

[aquaquadrant]

Philophobia

Word Count: 5,271 Warnings: Shipping, inappropriate/crude humor, paranormal activity, suspense/mild horror, descriptive kissing, mild language Summary: For architecture major and paranormal skeptic Grian, his friends’ after-hours ghost hunting group was just an excuse to spend time with his crush, Scar, without having to actually ask him out. But one fateful night, he finds there just might be things in this world that are scarier than emotional vulnerability… even if only by a very slim margin.

A/N: Did someone ask for a Phasmophobia-inspired Scarian au? Oh yeah, my friend @lunarcrown did! Inspired by the art she made here.

So this is kind of a modern-day college au (not set within the fictional universe of Minecraft), howEVER there are some fantasy aspects in that non-human species (like mob hybrids/monsters) still exist cuz they’re fun and I’m not giving anyone a normal modern name cuz that’s too weird. This is only Phasmophobia-inspired in that GIGS have a ghost-hunting group that functions the same way, but rarely find any conclusive evidence, and don’t have unlimited lives cuz they aren’t playing a game. With that out of the way, hope y’all enjoy, please reblog/comment if u do! - Aqua

~*~

Philophobia

~*~

“I think this is gonna be the one, guys,” Impulse says, turning their van into the driveway.

The suspension creaks as they roll over gravel, rattling the frame in a way that hums through Grian’s hollow bones. His arm is cold where it presses against the window; it’s almost sunset and Impulse has yet to get the van’s heater fixed despite his promises. Stupid demon blood keeping him warm while Grian shivers in the stupid custom pleather jumpsuit that Scar insisted they had made, for their stupid ‘brand’ as a stupid ghost-hunting group. Great, his stupid zipper’s come down again- he stubbornly zips it back up because unlike Scar, he doesn’t like constantly having his bare chest out on display.

Of course, he hasn’t got as much to show off as Scar, who must be getting up at 3 am every morning to work out in order to maintain all that muscle. No wonder Scar prefers to keep his zipper down to his belly button, and doesn’t seem to have ever met a shirt that fits him properly.

… Not that Grian’s ever paid much attention to that sort of thing. 

Grian gives an exasperated sigh. “You’ve been saying that about every case we’ve had for three years!”

“No, no, I really mean it!” Impulse insists. “I feel it in my bones.”

“Yeah,” Scar agrees, leaning forward so his shoulder brushes against Grian’s, “you know Impulse bones good!”

The earnest nature of his statement- and the unexpected physical contact- makes Grian flush. “Scar!” he shrieks, swatting Scar’s shoulder.

“What?” Scar defends. “What, he- he’s got big and strong bones, wonderful bones…”

He acts as if he’s got no idea he said something that could be taken the wrong way. And if it weren’t for the upturned corners of his mouth and the barely-restrained laugh in his voice, Grian might actually believe him.

“Dude,” Skizz chuckles from the front seat, “shut up, that’s awesome.”

Impulse sighs. “Anyway,” he says pointedly, “the place recently had a change in ownership. Previous owner passed away-”

“From murder?” Scar gasps.

Another sigh. “No, from liver failure.”

Grian snorts. “From all the drinking he did to forget about the ghostly hauntings?” he presses, exchanging a cheeky grin with Scar.

“No,” Impulse says, with the patience of a saint, “just normal old-age organ failure. The guy was ancient, and some kinda recluse. House had been in his family since it was built, but uh, he had no living relatives, no will when he died. So the bank took ownership and it’s been sitting off-market for like, fifteen years, til some hot-shot investor thought he could flip it-”

“Ughh,” Grian groans, tipping his head back against the seat. “Investors are the worst-”

“I know, I know,” Impulse soothes, “but um, he’d barely begun when things started happening. Contractors reported it day one, then the owner experienced an event himself and called us. So it’s basically still untouched.”

They haven’t even reached the end of the driveway yet, passing by seemingly endless rows of tall, gnarled pines. Admittedly, Grian’s curiosity is piqued. When he agreed to join this stupid ghost hunting group three years ago, he didn’t do so in the hopes of actually discovering any real paranormal activity. The whole idea is laughable. Ghost hunting is a pseudoscience, at best. Just a bunch of idiots scaring themselves silly in an empty house- and now they’re the idiots! Even their name is stupid: Ghost Investigation Group Services, or GIGS, embroidered on their ill-fitting pleather jumpsuits.

But despite his outright skepticism and dislike for pulling late nights in his already extremely limited free time, Grian’s got one very good reason for agreeing to join.

And his name is Scar.

Grian spent half a semester pining away at the fellow architecture major from across the lecture halls of their many shared classes. Charismatic and easy on the eyes, it was inevitable that Grian would develop a bit of a crush. But as they spent more time together during class projects and conversations in the hallway, he found out just how kind-hearted and passionate Scar was, and how easy he was to talk to, and how strong his arms looked in long-sleeved shirts…

… Yeah, ‘crush’ perhaps isn’t the right word.

So when Impulse- the engineering major who Grian was partnered with for physics lab- got the brilliant idea to start a ghost-hunting group with his best friend and roommate Skizz, and Scar expressed interest in joining, Grian made a split-second decision in a moment of weakness. He maintained his skepticism, claiming that he wanted to tag along just to prove how silly the whole idea was. Impulse was fine with it, while Scar said Grian had to wear the same uniform as them, and the rest was history.

(To be fair, that was before Grian knew it’d be a pleather jumpsuit.)

So here they are now nearly three years later, rumbling down a long gravel road in the dark and cold, up late on a Saturday night even though he still isn’t finished with his condominium model that’s due at 8 am on Monday and he’s fresh out of popsicle sticks. Moments like these almost make Grian wish he could just ask a guy out like a normal person, so they could spend time together without chasing pretend ghosts around dusty houses all night.

But that’d require him to talk about his feelings. Ugh, he’d rather let the ghosts get him.

“Alright.” Impulse slows the van to a halt. The doors unlock with a heavy clunk. “What do you guys think?”

Grian isn’t expecting much when he glances out the window. But the sight that greets him immediately prompts a hasty exit from the vehicle, scarcely noticing the sudden chill, his jaw dropping open in awe.

It’s a Victorian. Not a house that someone has mistakenly called ‘Victorian’ just because it looks old. A genuine, honest-to-goodness, Queen Anne’s style two-story Victorian manor with an asymmetrical facade and a rounded corner tower and a generous wrap-around porch, silhouetted against the fading light of the evening sky.

Grian reaches for his flashlight. Sweeping over the exterior, his breath catches. Knots of ivy creep up the walls, and there are a few places where the intricate wood trim has been lost to previous repairs and weather damage. A couple of the windows are bricked up. Most of the paint is faded and peeling. But overall? It’s beautiful.

“Oh man,” Grian murmurs, pushing his glasses back up, “look at the shape of it... look at the dormers!”

A second beam of light joins in; Scar’s emerged from the van. “Lots of character,” he says, sounding similarly entranced. “And still in great condition! Oh, it’s beautiful. It’s enough to make a man cry.”

Impulse hops out of the driver’s seat, chuckling. “I knew you two would like it. It’s an ‘85.”

Grian gives an appreciative whistle. “Look, I still don’t think we’re gonna find anythin’,” he says with a sideways look at Scar, “but I gotta tell ya… if- if I were a ghost… I think I’d haunt a proper house like this. Not those builder-grade boxes in the suburbs.”

“Right?” Impulse says, his forked tail flicking through the air. “That’s what I’m sayin’... I uh, I think this place has real potential.”

Skizz, who’s come around the van to stand with them, nods thoughtfully. “Definitely somethin’ special ‘bout it, that’s for true,” he says, exchanging a look with Impulse. Then he claps his hands together. “Alright gentlemen, let’s get movin’!”

Impulse and Skizz turn towards the van, heading to open the back.

Grian stares after them, squinting suspiciously. That wasn’t just any look. That was a Look. A Look that he knows all too well. They had that same Look on their faces at last year’s frat mixer, when they rigged the speakers at the Heta Kappa house to play ‘Margaritaville’ every time someone flushed a toilet.

It means that they’re Up To Something.

… Grian’s sure he’ll find out sooner or later.

“Well, Grian,” Scar says, hands on his hips as he surveys the property, “if it’s any connotation, at least we’ll get to study some real architecture tonight.”

Grian gives him a bemused look. “Consolation?”

Scar blinks. “Cono- what, what’d I say? Con- coronation?”

“Don’t worry ‘bout it, ey,” Grian chuckles, patting him on the shoulder. “Let’s go.”

~*~

“Check it out, dude,” Skizz calls excitedly, “temp’s dropping in here! Five degrees colder than the rest of the house!”

Grian makes a noncommittal noise. “It’s an east-facing room and the sun’s only just set, of course it’s colder than the rest of the house,” he says, idly passing his UV glow stick over an armchair. No prints, of course. “I doubt they’ve updated the insulation anytime within the last two decades.”

“And hey, look,” Impulse chimes in from the corner, “I’ve got EMF 1.3!”

Grian doesn’t even look up. “There’s an exposed outlet in here and I’ll bet the wiring’s older than I am. And in any case, it’s still below the recommended threshold.” Ew, okay, now that’s a suspicious UV stain on the floor, but not of the supernatural kind…

“Oh, it’s definitely not up to code,” Impulse agrees. He waves his EMF reader around a bit, making the pitch warble. “But I dunno, I think this must be the ghost’s favorite room. Might not be here right now, but I’m getting some real vibes…”

Grian rolls his eyes. “Sure…” 

Twenty minutes in, and despite the house’s hauntingly elegant construction, it’s been the same old story. The house is empty and quiet, as abandoned houses tend to be. Quite sparse, as most of the furnishings probably went to auction. The furniture that’s left is covered with tarps and every surface is coated with a fine layer of dust. He can smell mold somewhere in the floorboards and there’s apparent water damage in the ceiling.

The only renovation attempted thus far was the removal of some cheap linoleum tiles that were laid in the kitchen at some point- a renovation Grian can heartily agree with, there’s some absolutely gorgeous hardwood underneath- but they didn’t get far. The removed tiles are still sitting about in a haphazard pile, hammer and chisel abandoned on the floor beside them. Frantic footsteps smeared in the dust and powder paint the scene of a terrified contractor fleeing for their life from the reported ‘ghostly hauntings’. 

In any case, they haven’t heard any activity from the spirit box, nothing unusual has stood out on UV, and the salt Impulse laid out is still undisturbed. Surprise, surprise. Grian’s spent most of his time admiring the elaborate wooden trims lining every wall, scuffed as they are. What he wouldn’t give to properly restore this place…

“Hey, Dipple Dop?” Skizz calls suddenly. “Your radio working okay?”

Impulse gives him a curious look. “Huh? What, is there-” He pauses, glancing down at his radio. “Oh. Oh, yeah. Yeah, actually, mine’s on the fritz, must be overdue a battery change.”

“Oh?” Grian tilts his head innocently. “You don’t think it’s a ghoooost?”

Impulse purses his lips. “I don’t think everything is a ghost,” he says mildly. He clips the radio onto his belt, turning to the door. “I’ve got extras in the van, hang on…”

“I’ll go, too,” Skizz says quickly, slinging an arm and his wing around Impulse’s shoulders. “Buddy system! You know what, I- I’m tellin’ you, you never split up when hunting ghosts. That’s how they get you, dude.”

Oh. Oh, no.

Grian gives them a warning Look.

They give him a cheeky Look back.

“Yup, yeah, that’s true,” Impulse says with obvious feigned sincerity, steering Skizz out of the room. “So uh, you two keep at it, okay, and we’ll be right back…”

“Oh, okay!” Scar says cheerfully, busy setting up the tripod over in the corner and completely oblivious to their scheme. “Have a great time not getting murdered!”

Grian opens his mouth to protest, but Impulse and Skizz are already gone out the front door. Leaving him and Scar completely alone. Totally by coincidence, surely. Oh, he knew his drunken confession to Impulse at the school’s annual bar crawl fundraiser night would come back to bite him eventually.

It’s almost insulting, in a way. Like they think the only reason Grian hasn’t made a move is because he hasn’t had ample alone time with Scar. Like he needed them to give him an opportunity. But if he’d wanted to confess to Scar, he already would have. He’d have had it well done by now. They could give him a little credit.

See, the thing is, he’s thought about it. Plenty of times, in fact. But the issue he keeps coming back to is that if he tells Scar about his crush on him, then Scar will know about it. There’ll be no going back at that point. And if Scar doesn’t feel the same way- well, Grian can kiss their friendship goodbye. So yeah, no, he doesn’t think he’ll be making any dramatic love confessions tonight, strangely enough.

The risk of an awkward silence developing is astronomical, so Grian clears his throat. “Man… isn’t this place somethin’,” he says, then immediately fights the urge to cringe.

Scar, luckily, gives an emphatic nod. “It is, it truly is amazing.” He straightens up, dusting his hands off as he turns to Grian. “You know who’d really love this place, is Gem?”

“Oh, yeah, for sure,” Grian agrees. He busies himself with the UV, so he’s not just standing around. “We should take some pictures for her.”

“Oh, good idea!” Giving the tripod a final once-over, Scar wanders over to Grian. “So, any fingering goin’ on, yet?”

Grian nearly drops his glow stick. “Sorry- any what?!” he screeches, whirling around on Scar.

“You know, ghost fingers!” Scar says, perfectly innocent. He holds his hands up, wiggling his fingers in demonstration. “On the- on the glowy light?”

Grian takes a deep breath, face burning. “Oh Scar, buddy, you gotta think through your words better before you say them, alright?”

“Whaaat?” Scar pretends like he doesn’t know. “What, I’m just- you’ve got the stick, you know, little glow stick for when the ghost touches, uh-”

“Nevermind,” Grian groans. “Anyways, no, I haven’t found any ghostly handprints and I never will, because ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar folds his arms. “Well, hey, maybe the ghost is just polite! You know, he- maybe he’s just minding his business, not touching anything or- or anyone. Just because we don’t get anything on UV doesn’t mean ghosts aren’t real, I’ll have you know.”

Grian sees the challenge for what it is. “Alright…” He reaches into his pocket and pulls out his spirit box. Holding the transponder to his lips, he belts out, “Where ahhre yewww?” in his best imitation of an over-exaggerated pop-punk accent. If Impulse and Skizz are eavesdropping through their radios, he hopes he gave them a start.

Scar laughs. “Oh man, been a while since I heard that one! You-”

I’m close.

Grian jumps so badly he nearly drops the box, his wings puffing out involuntarily. “What?! Wha- who said that?” he demands, spinning around.

Scar blinks at him. “What? Did you hear something through the box?”

“I- I dunno?” Grian says uncertainly. The box seems to be working as normal; when he holds the receiver down, there’s a faint hiss of static, and the bulb remains white. No further noises come from the speaker.

After a couple seconds of tense listening, Grian feels silly. Way to play it cool. He switches the box off with an exasperated sigh. “No, of course I didn’t hear anything through the box. Like I said, ghosts aren’t real.”

Scar hums noncommittally. “Oh, Grian... you know, there are some things in the world that can’t be explained.” 

Grian snorts. “Oh, yeah? Well, I- I got a few explanations for ya.” He counts on his fingers. “It could’ve been this old house creaking in the wind, or an electrical surge causing feedback through the transponder, or- or, not to mention, Impulse and Skizz pranking us through the radio?”

Scar snickers. “That does sound like something they’d do, I’ll give you that.”

“Yeah.” Grian slips the box back into his pocket. “And y’know, being in a creepy abandoned house, after dark, out in the middle’a nowhere... it’s easy to think you’re hearin’ things.”

Scar rolls his eyes, but his expression is fond. “I know, I know, so you’ve told me. But one of these days, mister, you’re gonna eat your words.”

“Right,” Grian drawls. “I’m so scared…”

The front door slams shut.

That makes Grian pause. They always leave the front door open while out on a job. It saves time when they have to go back and forth from the van, and saves battery life on their radios when they can just shout to each other through the open doorway. Obviously this job is a little different, because Impulse and Skizz have clearly got it in their heads to try and get him and Scar together, but he wouldn’t think they’d go so far as to-

The lights suddenly flicker and go out. But in the split-second before they do, Grian sees a shadowy figure silhouetted against the door.

Pure instinct takes over. Grian spins on his heel, grabs Scar by the arm, and absolutely flies down the stairs to the basement. He knows they’ve disturbed one or two piles of salt but right now, he can’t bring himself to care. His wings are bumping against the walls and he’s certainly never tried carrying someone as big as Scar before but he doesn’t stop, doesn’t even process the ache of it rattling through his body. He bursts into the basement, feathers flying, and careens towards the back of the room, around a tall shelving unit, and into the corner.

There’s a heap of boxes stacked up in this corner; Grian unceremoniously shoves Scar over top of them, dropping him in the narrow space between the boxes and the wall. He’s wedged in as far as he can himself, laying across the boxes, his double pair of wings preventing him from squeezing in beside Scar. He’s still got the UV light clenched in his fist, he realizes belatedly- he braces his forearms against the wall to try and cover it, fanning his wings out behind him to block it out from the rest of the room. Glancing back over his shoulder, he tries to gauge how much light is getting through when a noise makes him freeze.

Footsteps.

They’re soft and light- certainly not the heavy boots of Impulse or Skizz. No, they sound almost barefoot. And as they gently tap down the stairs, the sound of giggling fills the air. It’s a feminine voice. Young, like a child. Like a little ghostie girl is prancing down the stairs to murder them.

Grian thinks he might pass out. Can ghosts actually kill people? How would they do it if they’re incorporeal? He’s never considered the question before, he never thought he’d have to because it’s ridiculous, ghosts aren’t real, of course they can’t kill people-

The footsteps stop. 

Grian isn’t sure if he’s still breathing. He doesn’t dare move. A chill runs up his spine, making every single feather stand on end. He can almost hear the high-pitched violins that would be playing right now if this were a horror movie; the cheesy, overdrawn kind of horror movies that are always playing at the drive-in that the four of them watch while piled into the back of the van in a tangle of limbs and spilled popcorn and oh god he’s spiraling now because he’s about to be killed by a ghost-

Bye-bye!

The chill recedes. Somewhere in his peripheral vision, he sees the faint glow of light from upstairs return.

It’s over.

Grian’s mind is spinning. What was that? What was that? It seems impossible, it doesn’t even feel real to be in this situation right now but he is, there was a ghost, there was a ghost. It feels insane to even think it. But the residual adrenaline coursing through his body reminds him it was very real, he just encountered a ghost.

A ghost! Oh, after three years of very loudly decrying the entire concept as rubbish. He can’t believe it. He really can’t believe it, this is the absolute last thing he expected to happen tonight. Ghosts are real. Ghosts are really, really, real. He doesn’t know what to do, who would ever believe him? Is this how the others have been feeling this whole time? God, he can’t believe this-

“G...?” Scar’s voice pipes up hesitantly. “What... what are we doing?”

Oh, right. Grian glances down at Scar- and his heart jolts. He’d been so focused on getting away from the ghost, he’d acted without thinking, so only now does he realize the... predicament he’s put them in.

Scar’s slumped against the floor beneath him, head tucked just below Grian’s arms. His long legs are still draped over the box that Grian’s laying across, resting on either side of his waist. And due to the odd posture Grian’s in, his chest has been thrust rather close to Scar’s face, lit by the soft purple glow of the UV.

This is probably the closest Grian has ever been to sitting in Scar’s lap.

Grian’s not proud of the yelp that escapes him. “Sorry, sorry!” His wings flail as he struggles to push himself off of the wall, stumbling back onto his feet. It’s clumsy and uncoordinated and he nearly falls backwards, his heart pounding.

Scar manages a laugh, easing himself up off the floor. “No, no, it’s okay, I- I just... what- why’d you bring us down here?” he asks, dusting off his jumpsuit.

Grian catches his breath. “Wait, you... didn’t hear the creepy ghost on its way to kill us?” he asks, frowning.

Scar‘s eyes widen. “What? There was a ghost?”

No way.

“Are you-!” Grian throws his arms up. “Honestly, I- I know avians have better hearing than most but that’s insane. She was laughing! Laughing and skipping down the blumin’ steps! And you didn’t hear any of it?”

“No…?” Scar shrugs helplessly. “I’m sorry, okay! I- I don’t know, I was- a lot was happening, you- you’re grabbin’ me, pulling me down the stairs and into this little corner, I didn’t know what was going on! I didn’t know, I- I was all disconbodulated- disco- bobo, bobumated? I was a little distracted, okay. Jeeze, give a man a break…”

“Distracted?” Grian repeats incredulously. “You’re the one who actually believes in ghosts, here, how could you get distracted? What do you…”

He trails off. Scar is very clearly fighting to avoid looking at Grian, but for the briefest moment, his eyes dart down to Grian’s chest. Suddenly confused, Grian follows his gaze, and-

Oh, for goodness sakes. At some point during his frantic flight, the stupid zipper on his stupid jumpsuit came down again, exposing a frankly scandalous amount of skin. Not Scar-level of scandalous, but pretty close.

Grian immediately feels himself turn red. “Oh. Uh- right,” he hastily pulls the zipper back up, “sorry ‘bout that…”

Wait. Wait just a second. 

Scar was distracted from a literal ghost hunt going on... because Grian’s bare chest was showing? Does that... does that mean he liked it? 

Scar’s avoiding his gaze again. His cheeks are tinted pink.

“Scar...?” Grian ventures carefully. “Were you... lookin’ at my chest?”

Scar’s cheeks darken. “Ah, I- I- don’t- I mean, why would you- I didn’t mean to, it’s just...” He fumbles for the words. “What- what am I- hey, your pecs were basically in my face! I wasn’t trying to look, I- I just-”

“Scar,” Grian says, keeping his voice light and teasing, “did ya… did you like what you saw?”

Scar splutters for a moment. “Well, sure, Grian,” he tries to laugh it off, “I mean, anyone- anyone with eyes can see you’re uh, you know, you’re- you’re pretty attractive. I- I’m secure enough to say it, I don’t care, it’s- sure, of course, you’re very muscular! You’re a- you’re a muscular man, it’s just not always obvious with the sweaters you wear. Or- sorry, you call them jumpers in Britain land, right, they’re jumpers-”

“You been checkin’ me out, Scar?” Grian asks, caught somewhere between playfulness and utter disbelief.

“Uh...” Scar rubs the back of his neck. He exhales slowly, clearly debating with himself. “I... maybe? What... what would you say... if that were the case?”

Grian swallows. His heart is absolutely racing now, and he’s broken into a cold sweat that’s definitely not supernatural in origin. The air between them feels fragile; he’s acutely aware that a single word from him could swiftly plunge them back into the realm of safe familiarity, of casual light-hearted teasing between friends. Scar’s always said things that bordered on the flirtatious, and Grian can hide behind the plausible deniability of teasing. This entire interaction doesn’t have to mean anything. It can be easily moved past and forgotten.

And yet, strangely enough… Grian doesn’t want it to. Maybe it’s the post-haunting adrenaline or the fact that he could’ve died tonight, but all of a sudden, he feels like taking a chance. Like he could finally say what he’s wanted to say for the last three years. He managed to hold his own against a blumin’ ghost, for goodness sakes- he should be able to face his own feelings head on.

He takes a breath. “I’d say that’s a relief… ‘cause I’ve been checkin’ you out since day one of first year.”

Scar stares at him for a long moment. His expression is utterly unreadable. The silence draws on long enough that Grian feels a spike of panic, worried that maybe he’s mishandled the situation-

 “... oh my god,” Scar says finally. “Really?”

It sounds like the good kind of surprise. Grian offers a shy smile. “Yeah, yeah,” he admits. “I- Scar, I know I’m real good at playin’ these things close to the vest, but uh, I- I’ve had a massive crush on you since... basically since the day we met.”

“Huh.” Scar blinks. “You’re serious. You- you’re not pranking me right now?”

That startles a laugh out of Grian. “No! Scar, I don’t- we just survived being hunted by a ghost, I’m not pranking you!”

“Well, that’s- that’s amazing!” A grin spreads across Scar’s face- and man, oh man, does he have just the most wonderful smile. “Oh my gosh, G, I don’t- you don’t even know how long I’ve been waiting for this.”

The relief is almost overwhelming. “Yeah, me too!” Grian laughs, half-dazed and half-giddy, running a hand through his hair. “I- I even- look, the whole reason I even joined this group was as an excuse to hang out with you!”

Scar’s mouth falls open. “No way! That’s- that’s the whole reason I joined in the first place, too!”

Now it’s Grian’s turn to gawk. “Are you joking?”

“I’m not!” Scar insists, “I swear, I’m not- Impulse said he wanted to start the group and maybe we’d all join and get to hang out and I thought ‘hey, ghosts are cool and Grian is cool’ so I just-”

“Oh, I can’t believe this…” Grian groans, hiding his burning face in his hands. “We really are idiots, we’ve wasted nearly three years…”

Scar’s hands close around Grian’s wrists, lightly pulling them down from his face. “Well, I guess we’ll just have to make up for lost time,” he says smoothly, leaning in.

Corny, but Grian will allow it. He closes the gap, tilting his head up to meet Scar’s lips.

In that moment, everything else fades away. All the nervousness, all the second-guessing, even the bombshell discovery of the existence of ghosts- there could be one standing in front of them right now and Grian wouldn’t care. The way Scar gathers Grian in his arms, hands gently roving through his feathers- it’s bliss. It’s perfect.

Scar kisses him strong and purposefully, with no trace of carelessness or haste. He doesn’t rush. There’s intent written into every single movement, jaw working to deepen the kiss. Grian curls against him, hands splayed across Scar’s chest. He can feel Scar’s heart pounding through his flushed skin, and it’s wildly exciting- to think Scar is just as breathless as he is. 

Growing bold, Grian dares to slip his tongue into Scar’s mouth, and the noise he makes- part surprise, part delight- sends pure electricity fizzling up his spine. His mind is starting to drift away from him, lost in the sensation of weightlessness, of floating, that almost makes him feel like he’s gone completely incorporeal- like his own spirit has become untethered from the mortal coil.

Then Skizz’s voice comes down the stairs.

“G-Sharp! Scarface! You down here? We just saw a freaking ghost on the cams, and- oh my god!”

Grian breaks away from Scar, but not quick enough. He turns to see Skizz and Impulse standing at the bottom of the stairs, expressions shocked. And then, as if they’d rehearsed it, they both break into massive shit-eating grins and spin around to high-five each other.

“Woo!” Impulse cheers. “We got ‘em! Ladies and gentlemen, we finally got them.”

“Yeah, baby!” Skizz pumps his fist in the air. “Oh, I love it!”

“Oh, would you two stop it?” Grian huffs, but he’s not really cross. Hard to be cross when he’s on cloud nine. “The ghost did most of the work, alright?”

“That’s right,” Scar sniffs, winding an arm around Grian’s waist. “You know, I- I’m startin’ to think you all were in cahoots! Cahoots, I say!”

“Dude, if only,” Skizz laughs, walking over to clap them on the shoulders. “Could not have planned it better, that’s amazing. Well done, gentlemen!”

“Yeah, it’s about time!” Impulse adds, crossing his arms. “I was starting to think we’d graduate before either of you fessed up, I- I had to take drastic measures…”

“Impulse,” Grian says warningly, “if you’re about to tell me you started this whole paranormal investigation group just as a way to push me and Scar into confronting our feelings, I swear-”

“No, no,” Impulse assures him, chuckling. “I really do like the ghost-hunting deal, don’t worry. But uh, we did deliberately ditch you guys in the hopes that something would happen.”

Scar waggles his eyebrows. “Oh, things happened, alright.”

“Scar!” Grian swats at him, but he’s laughing and it feels good. It feels right. After all this time spent worrying about worst-case scenarios, about denying his feelings for the sake of maintaining the comfortable mundanity of his comfortable life, it turns out the scariest part was the fear itself.

The irony doesn’t escape his notice. A bit on the nose, if he’s honest.

“But in even bigger news,” Impulse graciously continues, “you saw the ghost? And you believed it? You, Mr. Non-Believer in all things ghostly?”

Grian sighs. “Yeah, yeah, I know…”

“This is incredible!” Skizz claps his hands together. “Okay, okay, we gotta go cleanse the area and I wanna hear everything, got it? Don’t leave a single detail out!”

Grian slips his hand into Scar’s as they follow Impulse and Skizz back up the stairs. “Yeah, alright,” he relents. He supposes he’s due for a lot of ‘I told you so’s’. But really, it’s a small price to pay for the life-altering knowledge that ghosts are real… and for finally finding the courage to believe in something extraordinary.

Scar hums. “Wait, details about the ghost or about the kissing?”

“Scar!”

~*~

[avatar-anna]

Unknown Number

someone made a request about reader accidentally being given harry's number, but i accidentally deleted it, so if you requested it, here it is!

(the text chain will be from harry's point of view)

italics: y/n (unknown number)

bold: harry

Part Two

Part Three

Unknown Number (UN): heyy. i had a really good time the other night. maybe we could do it again sometime? xx (click to download image)

Harry Styles (HS): How did you get this number?

UN: you gave it to me?

UN: last night at the pub? marcus, right?

HS: No. You have the wrong number.

UN: is this a joke? are you fucking with me right now?

HS: No.

UN: oh my god

UN: i feel like such an idiot

UN: one of the first times a guy gives me his number at a bar and he gives me the wrong number

UN: probably on purpose too

UN: i should've known when he left his OWN APARTMENT the next morning but i was actually hopeful

UN: and now i've made an ass of myself here too. sorry to bother you i'll leave you alone. sorry again

(one hour later)

HS: It's okay. Sorry about that guy. Sounds like a jerk.

(twenty minutes later)

UN: it's fine, i guess

UN: i wasn't in love with him or anything but he could've had the decency of expressing his disinterest himself instead of hiding behind a fake number.

HS: That is quite a dick move.

HS: I'm not gonna lie, I wasn't expecting that text. I didn't open the picture either by the way.

UN: thank you. for a moment i was worried i was messaging a creep, but hopefully you're not a creep

UN: i mean you could be still and i'd have no idea

UN: maybe i should stop texting you

(ten minutes later)

HS: I'm not a creep.

UN: that's exactly what a creep would say

HS: I don't really know how to prove it to you. You're the one who sent me a photo of yourself half naked. You could be the creep.

UN: you said you didn't open it!

HS: I was trying to be polite!

UN: great now some 40 year old living in his parents basement has one of my nudes

HS: I'm not 40! And I don't live in my parents basement

UN: you text like an old man

HS: wuld u rather i txt like ths???

UN: no but i'm just saying i don't know many people my age who use proper punctuation in text messages

HS: Well I might not be your age, but I'm certainly not 40

UN: "certainly not." you're right. you sound like my grandpa

HS: I suddenly regret restarting a conversation with you

UN: you know despite the fact that you might be catfishing me, i've enjoyed this. i feel like i'm doing what all the other teen girls did in high school at sleepovers

HS: So you're out of high school.

UN: creep!

HS: You outed yourself, that's not on me.

UN: you...might be right

UN: can you tell me something about yourself to make it even? there's always a possibility that you could be lying and i have no reason to trust you, but...idk i feel like i can

HS: Well that's stupid.

HS: But I suppose since I've already seen you partially naked...

UN: i'm blocking your number

HS: My first name is H, and I'm 20 years old.

UN: h? just the letter h?

HS: You could be a creep too for all I know

UN: fair enough. i'm june

HS: Full name? Wow, you really are a dummy.

UN: don't get your 60 year old panties in a twist. it's a nickname

HS: June is a nickname?

HS: And I'm not 60.

UN: june. june bug. that's what the folks call me

HS: Folks? Now who sounds old?

UN: whatever

(thirty minutes later)

HS: Well, it was nice talking to you, June. June bug.

UN: you too h

(three days later)

June (J): you're a guy right?

HS: I'm sorry?

J: well when i first texted you i thought you were a guy, but you weren't THAT guy, so i have no idea

J: i just assumed but i thought i would ask

J: plus i need solicited guy advice and if you're not a creep i would really appreciate it

HS: We're back to me being a creep?

J: it's a risk every time i text you

J: so? are you a dude?

HS: Yes.

J: great! can i ask you something?

HS: Um...I guess...

J: ok. would you ever get offended if a woman covered their drink during a conversation with you?

HS: I'm not following...

J: like say we're at a bar and we're talking and i turn my head away for some reason but i put my hand over my drink until i look back at you to prevent it from being spiked. would you be offended by that?

HS: No. Why?

J: see? i don't think that's unreasonable. some loser got mad at me for doing that. well EXCUSE ME for not immediately trusting the guy i matched with on tinder

J: who was not as cute in real life i might add

HS: You don't have the best taste in guys.

J: that is not advice!

HS: Okay, here's my advice: don't swipe right on guys who have mirror selfies in their profile.

J: ...

J: ok fair enough but it's not like prince charmings are falling from the sky. it's hard out here

HS: I'm sure.

J: what you don't have the same problem?

HS: I don't really date.

J: in like a douchey way? are you one of those guys who say they just fuck?

HS: I just don't have time for dating, I guess.

J: so no special someone?

HS: No.

(four hours later)

HS: If you asked for advice, does that mean I can too?

(one hour later)

J: sorry i was at work

J: and i don't see why not

HS: What do you think about guys who wear skinny jeans?

J: hm...i think styled right it could be nice

J: YSL is kind of pushing the whole skinny jeans and chelsea boots thing which might eventually trickle down to the losers i match with on tinder so...why not? i say dress how you want

J: any guy who has a good sense of style is sexy to me

J: sorry if that wasn't the answer you were looking for

HS: Yes and no. I've been experimenting with different styles. Sometimes I get a little in my head about it.

J: doesn't everyone?

HS: I guess you're right.

HS: Do you follow fashion shows and things like that?

HS: That's not too personal, is it?

J: no, but it's kind of embarrassing

HS: Not as embarrassing as sending a complete stranger a picture of yourself in your bra

J: harsh...but fair

J: fashion is kind of my religion

J: i'm trying to become a stylist. keyword trying

HS: That's cool!

J: tell that to my family

HS: they don't support you?

J: nope! but i'm gonna do it anyway!

HS: Do you have a favorite designer?

J: it kinda depends on the year and who was creative director at the time, but the first time i got my hands on vintage vivienne westwood i was hooked

J: you?

HS: I'm just starting to explore the fashion world I guess you could say.

J: well lucky for you i happen to be a bit of an encyclopedia when it comes to house codes

HS: House codes?

J: oh boy. i hope you're comfortable. we might be here a while

(two days later)

HS: Have you ever had rumors spread about you?

J: i don't think so

J: oh wait! in eighth grade this girl in my class told everyone i made out with a boy at the school dance which was NOT true

J: it was just a peck

HS: Naughty.

J: it was harmless. why do you ask?

HS: There's a rumor going around about me. It's just frustrating when people actually believe it. sometimes it gets to the point where i start to believe it myself.

J: i'm sorry. i won't pry or anything, but i know what it feels like to not be understood

HS: I just hate the feeling of being under a microscope. It's exhausting. I feel like my life isn't my own sometimes.

J: that sucks

J: sorry that was in no way helpful, but i don't really know what to say. is there someone you can talk to about this?

HS: ...

J: oh! i actually feel kind of honored

J: well, obviously i don't know the whole situation, but maybe try and surround yourself with people who don't scrutinize you so much?

HS: Easier said than done.

J: true but i think if you have a solid group of people who know you and understand you and like you for who you are, it's easier to deal with things like rumors and being under the proverbial microscope, you know?

J: and don't be afraid to get rid of the toxic people in your life! it's not easy but you'll be better off in the long run

HS: sometimes it's hard to tell who's toxic and who's not

J: start with the people who would never believe a rumor about you, or the ones who would never START one about you

HS: Well said, June Bug.

J: thanks! maybe i should entertain a career in counseling

(one month later)

HS: Why June Bug?

J: i was born in the summer. it was a nickname my grandparents gave me. been called that ever since

HS: That's sweet.

J: there are worse nicknames i suppose. i have a cousin that got stuck with chip because he used to stuff his face like a chipmunk when he was little

HS: Yikes.

J: you're telling me

(three weeks later)

J: have you ever danced alone in your bedroom to stevie nicks?

HS: Have you?

J: i have, and can i just say she does NOT get enough credit as a songwriter?

HS: Edge of Seventeen?

J: edge of seventeen

J: i went on a date last week with a guy who had the AUDACITY to call her music mediocre

HS: You didn't see him again did you?

J: ...

HS: June!

J: just once! and only because he had really nice hands

HS: I don't get how that would make you stay with a stevie hater...

J: REALLY nice hands ;)

HS: You disappoint me sometimes.

J: ;))))

(fifteen minutes later)

J: hey you never answered my question about dancing in your room!

HS: ...No comment...

(one week later)

J: you ever been in love, h?

HS: I can't say that I have. Have you?

J: no ://

J: i think i want it too much. i've always just been in love with the idea of falling in love, you know?

J: but the reality isn't what i thought it would be

HS: I'm sorry.

HS: It probably won't help but I'm sure you'll find someone. You seem like a great person. Anyone would be lucky to be with you.

J: aw h you're making me blush!

HS: But perhaps you should stop looking for love on a hookup app

J: annnd good feeling gone

(two weeks later)

HS: Guess who has two thumbs and got invited to Paris Fashion Week!

J: no fair!

J: and that joke doesn't work if i can't see you point to yourself. it doesn't work period

HS: I will let that slide because I know you're just jealous.

J: are you kidding me? OF COURSE i'm jealous! i can't believe you get to see Alessandro Michele's work up close

HS: Who?

J: don't think because we only communicate through text that i can't strangle you

HS: Relax. I'm only joking.

HS: Alessandro is a friend ;))

(ten minutes later)

J: sorry i just had to scream into my pillow

J: what exactly do you do again?

HS: I told you. I work in the industry.

J: but that could mean anything! the cosmetics industry, the movie industry, the meat packing industry...

HS: Meat packing?

J: you know what i mean!

HS: I do a lot of PR.

J: see. that wasn't so hard now was it?

HS: Can I go back to gloating?

J: only if you promise to give me a full report afterwards you go to all the shows

HS: Deal.

(four days later)

HS: Favorite movie?

J: that's hard...

J: it's probably cliche but the devil wears prada

HS: Good choice.

J: what about you?

HS: The Notebook.

J: really?

HS: Yes. Why?

J: do you say that to impress girls or because it's actually your favorite?

HS: Would you rather I have said a film with lots of car chases?

J: no

J: but i went out with a guy who was a film major once

HS: Is that a bad thing?

J: let's just say it won't be happening again

J: he thought he was superior for disliking popular movies. i hate that

HS: Well, I love The Notebook and I love Ryan Gosling

J: now THAT is something we can agree on!

(six weeks later)

J: BIG NEWS

J: LIKE HUGE

J: GROUNDBREAKING

HS: And here I was thinking you forgot about me.

J: i texted you yesterday

HS: You asked me if my dick could move on its own.

J: a legitimate question! i nearly had a heart attack when i saw it in person

J: but i was also weirdly fascinated. my question was purely scientific!

HS: You said you had news?

J: right!

(twenty minutes later)

HS: Are you making me wait to create anticipation?

J: no sorry i got a phone call.

J: i got my first real gig as a stylist

HS: That's great! Congratulations!

J: thanks

HS: You don't sound excited anymore. What happened to all caps?

J: my mother happened

HS: Still not on board, then?

J: she told me it was a waste of time and that i should get a real job

HS: You're still gonna take it though right?

J: i don't know. maybe she's right. the pay is less than ideal. more like i'm being paid in experience, and it's not the clientele i was imagining...

HS: But it's a foot in the door, right? That's something.

J: i guess

HS: Make connections. Get good references. And who knows, you might actually enjoy yourself.

J: you're right.

J: it's for some up and coming band that's going on tour. pretty sure i was what they could afford

HS: Don't sell yourself short. You're gonna do great.

J: thanks. i hardly even know you and you're currently my biggest supporter

HS: What happened to Bill?

J: ancient history

HS: What was wrong with him? He seemed nice.

J: yeah

J: his girlfriend thought so too.

HS: On behalf of all men: Sorry. We truly are the worst.

J: agreed. what about you? still single?

HS: Yes, though people keep trying to set me up on dates.

J: the horror!

HS: Ha ha

HS: I just want to meet someone on my own terms.

J: i get that

J: i just want to meet someone who's actually a decent human being

HS: I'll be on the lookout.

(three weeks later)

J: i think i've decided that tour life is not for me

HS: oh?

J: yeah. sitting on a bus for hours and hours with only myself to keep me company? no thanks

HS: it can't just be you on the bus can it?

J: no but i have a hard time making friends right away. and a lot of the crew for this tour are older than me

HS: are your clients nice at least?

J: yeah. one of them tried to hit on me, which i guess i should take as a compliment, but i am on the clock. no flirting for me

HS: a professional then. or are you not into the musician type?

J: not sure. i haven't dated one before

J: i told you that the other day

HS: right. must've slipped my mind

HS: but back to taste in men. is it all about looks for you or do you like funny guys?

HS: are you the type to sleep with someone on the first date? because i feel like that's very telling about a girl

J: who is this?

HS: what do you mean? it's me

J: it's not. you're not texting like a middle aged woman and you're acting like a total ass

HS: Sorry. I thought I'd try something new. And I was just curious. Can't blame a guy for asking right? You did send some guy you barely knew a picture of yourself

HS: It was very wholesome by the way. Maybe try a little more skin next time and you'll get the response you want. You can practice here if you'd like.

J: oh my god

HS: What?

J: this was a mistake. i'm such an IDIOT

J: was this some kind of prank?

J: whoever you are, you're sick

J: don't text me again

HS: June, I'm so sorry. That was my friend he was just being stupid.

HS: Last time I leave my phone anywhere.

HS: June?

HS: June please.

HS: That wasn't me I swear!

HS: I'm sorry.

(three weeks later)

HS: Day 21 of trying to get you to respond.

HS You probably blocked me which is fine. I don't blame you.

HS: But if you DO happen to read these and are just ignoring me...

HS: I'm sorry. Again. For like the millionth time.

J is typing...

HS: June?

J: i should've blocked you

HS: Why didn't you?

J: because as insane as it sounds, you've become a close friend

HS: I feel the same. I'm really sorry about before. I swear it was one of my mates. I would never say something like that.

J: that's what makes this whole thing crazy! i don't actually know you, so how do i know if i can trust you?

HS: I mean you even noticed that he wasn't texting like me. I would never ask you questions like that, June. I never have.

HS: And I do NOT text like a middle aged woman by the way

J: i guess that's true

J: i think it just doubled down the fact that we don't actually know each other. this whole thing is ridiculous if you think about it too long. it gives me a headache sometimes.

J: i know we've joked about it but...this could be potentially dangerous

HS is typing...

HS: I could send you a voice note.

J: you would do that?

HS: You're right. This whole thing is ridiculous but...I don't know, I trust you, and I consider you a friend.

J: a friend you say?

HS: That's all I'm willing to admit for one day

J: and what about tomorrow?

HS is typing...

HS (voice recording): Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

(one day later)

Y/n hated how much her stomach flipped every time her phone pinged with a new message.

It was so reckless and dangerous and utterly ridiculous. She didn't know who H was, she didn't even know what time zone he lived in, and yet she felt like she knew him.

And after hearing his deep voice—deep British voice—on the voice recording, Y/n determined that he wasn't some creep in his forties like she'd originally thought.

Since sending that voice recording, they'd sent each other messages like that all night. And by all night she meant all night. They stayed up late sending voice recordings back and forth. It was the longest conversation they'd held to date, which was surprising considering that they often missed each other during certain hours. Just based on what hours of the day they texted the most, Y/n figured H lived somewhere in Europe, which gave her peace of mind considering he couldn't exactly kidnap her if he was a whole ocean away. But the last couple weeks their schedules seemed to be lining up, though Y/n chalked it up to all the traveling she'd been doing lately.

One thing she was certain of was that she adored H's voice. It was soft and deep, but got raspier the longer they spoke. And at times he would whisper in his messages, like he had to keep his voice down. The hushed tones made her shiver.

Y/n didn't call H, and he never offered. But she wanted to, boy did she want to. No matter how terrifying that thought was. A full-fledged phone call seemed more...real to Y/n. With the messages, she and H were still in their little bubble. It was stupid, but she needed that bit of separation. She was becoming attached to someone she'd never met.

Walking through the halls of a stadium in Canada, Y/n pulled up past conversations with H. It was too embarrassing to admit to anyone out loud, but she felt like she really knew him. He was endearing, had a silly sense of humor, had good taste in music, and was honest. Well, as honest as either of them could be. Outside of the one slip up with H's friend, Y/n believed what he said to her over text. Maybe that made her naive, but their conversations were legit. He felt like a friend, and she knew he felt similarly.

Maybe tomorrow I'll admit a little more.

Y/n had no idea what that could mean. She of course knew what she wanted it to mean, but what she wanted rarely ever lined up with reality.

Y/n looked up from her phone to make sure she didn't pass the right door. The one in front of her read, Harry Styles in big bold lettering. She quickly hurried past and continued down the hall to where the dressing room for Five Seconds of Summer was.

Harry Styles was a bit of an enigma. Even though she was on the same tour as him and One Direction, Y/n hardly ever saw him. And when she did, his nose was always in his phone, completely closed off to the world around him. He just had this vibe that said, "don't talk to me," and Y/n received that message loud and clear. The Five Seconds of Summer boys seemed to get on with all the members of One Direction, but Y/n usually made herself scarce whenever they came by the dressing room, for no other reason than too much testosterone in one room.

"You want to come out after the show, Harry?" Y/n heard one of the boys ask. Michael.

"Um...No. I think I'll have to pass tonight, boys. Sorry."

"What? Big date tonight?"

"Something like that."

Y/n felt frozen to the linoleum floor. She knew that voice. She'd spent all night listening to that voice.

"Holy shit."

[happyhauntt]

a grey day — spencer reid.

writing masterlist | askbox

─── summary: spencer meets the newest member of the department.

─── pairing: spencer reid x autistic!medical examiner!reader.

─── warnings: fluff, reader is autistic & a mom, spencer's iq gets slashed to sixty when he talks to pretty girls and it's my favourite thing. no use of y/n. reader is performing an autopsy so mentions of blood but nothing too graphic.

─── word count: 1.3k.

     YOU KNOW IT'S A GREY DAY before you even manage to open your eyes.

     And really, you’re expecting it  ━  this whole week has been filled with pale pink and lime green with solid, unwavering turquoise blobs in the middle, because you started your new job on Monday and the apprehension, the excited, the nausea, they've all been stirring up inside you for days now.

     Waking up to a grey day doesn't hit you as hard as it usually would.

     Still, you feel sluggish when you drag yourself out of bed ten full minutes after your alarm has gone off. The shower is a no-go this morning  ━  if you’re honest with yourself, the shower is a no-go most mornings, when your skin feels soft and sensitive and your brain can't cope with the idea of a barrage of hot water raining down on you  ━  so you slap on some deodorant and spray some dry shampoo in your hair, tugging it up into a rough ponytail.

     You take your time with your makeup, though; strawberry lipgloss and lots of concealer, a heaping of eyeliner and your favourite gold hoop earrings are exactly what you need to feel better. When you step out into the hallway wearing your comfiest black jeans and a jumper that's probably smart enough to pass the dress code, hearing your daughter giggling in the kitchen, the grey day lightens a little.

     It gets even better when your sister-in-law presses a travel mug of iced coffee into your hands.

     "Jackie, I fucking adore you," you say around a mouthful of delicious, soul-quenching caffeinated goodness. You’d half-expected Jackie to have something planned. Four years of living together means that Jackie tends to know about your off days before you do.

     The other woman suppresses a smile, coupled with a sharp look. "There's a three-year-old right there!"

     You snort, waving your hand nonchalantly. As if you don't have this conversation every single day. "Nellie knows not to repeat what I say." You turn to your daughter, your heart swelling three sizes as the little girl at the kitchen table looks up from her drawing. "Nell, baby, what am I always telling you?"

     "Don't go home with strangers."

     "Well, yeah, but I meant the other thing."

     The little girl brightens, revealing a missing front tooth. "If Aunt Jackie won't say it, then I shouldn't say it."

      You giggle, scurrying over to drop a kiss on your daughter's forehead. "Exactly right, my little love."

     When you turn back toward the kitchen counter, your sister-in-law's face is painted with an affronted look, her mouth half-open. "I can say bad words!"

      You wrinkle your nose. "I'll believe that when I see it."

     By the time you leave the house, sliding into your car with a second cup of iced coffee in hand, the day has lightened to a pale blue. You hope it will stay that way.

     "YOU LOOK SO TIRED, DUDE."

     Well, alright, he'll admit it wasn't the first thing he was expecting to hear when he entered the coroner's office. It's been a while since he ventured down to the morgue, sure, but Dr. Peterson has never talked to him like that before, and he's fairly certain not that much has changed in the three-or-so weeks it's been.

     And Spencer's observant. He prides himself on being able to notice things, tiny details other people seem to miss, things that are so obvious to him that he can't comprehend how normal people can't see them.

     So if anyone asks, he'll never admit that it took a full twelve seconds before he realised that the girl in the white lab coat, elbow-deep in an open chest cavity, is definitely not Dr. Peterson.

     "Uh..."

     It's the most intelligent response he can muster in the moment.

     "It's okay," you add, hardly bothering to look up from the corpse. "I'm tired too. And you're not the worst-looking guy in the room." You jerk your head at the dead guy on the table. "Although I'd say that's a pretty low bar, all things considered."

     "Where's Dr. Peterson?"

     "He retired. Or got a promotion, I think? Not totally sure." You shrug, raising an eyebrow at him. "I thought I'd met most of the department already, but I don't recognise you.” You tell him your name, squinting at him through your plastic glasses.”I’m the new... coroner, medical examiner, pathologist, dancing monkey? They didn't totally specify the position when they offered it, which I think says more about me than anything else."

     Spencer blinks. He's not totally sure he's ever met anyone who could talk nearly as fast as him before. "Dr. Spencer Reid, Behavioral Analysis Unit. Nice to meet you."

     "Oh, cool!" The liver in your hands gives a wet squelch as you drop it into a metal dish. "I'm under the BAU! I answer to your Section Chief, um, Agent Strauss? She's a little harsh, huh? I'd, uh, shake your hand, but..." You hold both hands up, mimicking a surrender, showing off the blue medical gloves slick with blood.

     An inkling of a smile creeps onto Spencer's face. "I don't shake hands."

     "That's fair," you say with a shrug. "Can I help you, Dr. Reid, or did you get lost looking for the cafeteria?"

     “No, actually.” He remembers the files he was supposed to show you and reaches into his satchel. The intensity of your gaze is like lasers on his skin and he can’t help but fumble, almost sending a stack of documents scattering across the floor.

     When he looks back up at you, cheeks flushed rosy, your stare hasn’t wavered even slightly. Amusement lingers in your eyes.

     He clears his throat and holds out the files as if they are a peace offering. He doesn’t quite understand whether a battle has been fought, but he definitely feels like he lost one. “Hotch— uh, Agent Hotchner sent the Howard County ME’s report on the Richardson case. He wanted you to look it over and sign off before they file it for the District Attorney.”

     You nod at him. The corner of your mouth quirks a little at his stuttering. You’re not sure you’ve ever been so immediately endeared to somebody before, but there he is, blinking at you like a deer caught in headlights. It’s so adorable.

     “Sure, I can do that,” you say. “Just pop it on the desk over there and I’ll get on with it when I’m done here. Can’t get any bodily fluids on the paperwork, y’know? That’d be a nightmare.”

     The volume of your laugh startles him, and he jerks slightly. The sound of it is loud and warm and it should really freak him out, considering you’re wrist-deep in a cadaver and cackling like a maniac, but it doesn’t. It’s actually kind of sweet.

     “If that’s all, Dr, Reid, I’d like to finish rooting through this guy’s insides so I can sew him back up.” Your words are an obvious dismissal, but he doesn’t feel offended, not with the kind smile still adorning your features.

     He nods and backs away. His feet feel a little numb. “Sure thing. I’ll, uh, catch you later. Have fun!”

     “I’m sure I will.”

     You sound like you’re about to laugh again. Have fun, really? He knows he’s fairly inept when it comes to women, but have fun? He scurries out of the morgue and back into the land of the living, and as Spencer boards the elevator all he can think is that he’s so glad Derek wasn’t there to witness that.

     He’s certain he’d never live it down.

     Meanwhile you resume your autopsy with an odd, fuzzy feeling in your chest. You start to hum beneath your breath, a song that must have played on the radio while you were driving to work.

     Your grey day feels a little pink at the edges.

[crosbyism]

"but then again this is the guy who’s publically known for loving to eat ass so"

I'm sorry, I thought Nate eating ass was fanon. Are you telling me this is an actual canon fact??

god i love when people don’t realise how much “fanon” around sid and nate is actually canon. it’s like heroin to me. also bc it’s like. 90% of the stuff in fics (which is probably why people assume it’s fanon but. oh boy it’s not. there’s shockingly little fanon around these two, mostly because canon is so abundant).

yes, nathan mackinnon is a known ass-eater. let me direct you to this post, anon. you’re welcome.

other nate (and sid) facts you might not have realised are canon:

nate is a known advocate for therapy. he’s been seeing a sports therapist since 2017

they wear matching clothing all the fucking time, sid has said publicly that he started wearing white sneakers and updated his wardrobe due to nate’s influence (iirc nate might’ve even bought him his first pair of white sneakers? either that or it was a “he told me i need to so i did” situation). they share a tailor. unfortunately i now have to bring your attention to the fact that since they have an alarming amount of matching clothes that they’ve bought for each other, that means that they in fact have to know each other’s clothing sizes off by heart. they also low-key share clothing btw

their families celebrate canada day together and their dads are best friends. in-law behaviour goes crazy

nate did in fact stalk his way into sid’s heart (got the same personal trainer and agent at age 13; built his house next door in 2017; they’ve been spending every day in the summers together since at least 2015. sid cooks for them daily, or at least did pre-pandemic. sid refuses to use nate’s gym tho so they always use sid’s).

nate used to have a fan twitter account more or less where he rooted for the pens. it was active until 2017.

sid and nate regularly go to summer weddings together as each other’s dates. they have done this since, once again, at least 2015

nate has confirmed that he used to have a poster of sid on his wall as a teenager (he didn’t confirm he used to jerk off to it but frankly. i think that’d be saying the quiet part out loud)

when sid won the cup in 2009 and held the parade in cole harbour, nate stood by the side of the road watching it. he was about to turn 14, he was already working with sid’s trainer and agent, and he was about to start attending shattuck (sid’s junior high). due to old pics we also know that this was RIGHT before nate had his first growth spurt and hit puberty. i’m not saying seeing sid with the cup kickstarted nate’s puberty and gave him his first boner but i’m not NOT saying it

nate dated vanessa morgan of riverdale fame in his rookie year. she’s now good friends with elias petersson from the vancouver canucks (this means nothing but i do think it’s a very funny coincidence).

nate schmidt, formerly of the VGK, once failed a drug test (it turned out to be a testing-fuck-up); when nhl players were asked about it natemack iconically said “i don’t think he was sticking a needle up his ass” (i just like this one)

when he was a kid, the one other thing sid wanted to be was a hairdresser. nate, on the other hand, “didn’t have a plan B”

nate is canonically possessive of sid (see: the asg 2024) and sid is canonically delighted by this and into it

they go on so many lunch dates in the summer my dude. they go grocery shopping together. like there’s so many pics of them in grocery stores or out having coffee or weird green shakes

oh i almost forgot, they went on a roadtrip through ireland last year. they’ve been on holiday together multiple times over the years though. done some eurotripping together and stuff. in 2015 they spent three months together, three weeks of which were spent living in sid’s santa monica condo together just the two of them

sid has put up a picture of every stanley cup winning captain in his basement since 2008, when the pens lost in the scf to DET. apparently this serves as motivation for him to win the cup. he notoriously does not watch the playoffs after the pens are out

however, he partied so hard at nate’s cup party he actually closed down the party with his dad. nate is the only non-teammate sid’s ever been seen supporting for a cup run (he’s also never been to his teammates’ cup parties afaik so. there’s that)

also they talked on the phone daily and between periods during nate’s cup run. they also canonically have almost weekly phone dates that can run multiple hours. quote nate “i can’t talk to anyone else the way i can talk to him”

they each have pictures of the two of them together framed in each other’s houses

there’s rumours they’re building adjoining houses on neighbouring properties in cape breton next to a golf course bc apparently being neighbours in halifax isn’t enough or something. this one is as yet unconfirmed by reputable sources though

[rs-hawk]

My Brother’s Hot Friend: Week One

FtM Reader x Dragon

Week One, Week Two, Week Three, Week Four

Your brother got a new best friend when he was in high school. You always had a bit of a crush on him, but he was older and cold. When your friends were over at the same time as him, you’d all joke about him being reptilian. As the years went on, your brother and him stayed close. Even after they both went off to different colleges. Even after you ended up going to college.

One summer, your brother and you had come back to visit your parents. Staying in your old childhood rooms reminded you of what high school was like. Especially when he came back to visit his parents as well, so your brother and him ended up hanging out a lot. You couldn’t help but notice how tall he was-had he always been so tall? Had he always been towering man with eyes that cut through you?

Your brother was invited to a party, and to your surprise, he invited you along too.

“You’re too uptight. Every time we talk, you’re always studying. Do you even have any friends on campus? I mean, come on Y/N. You have a single dorm and you don’t even have a boyfriend to have over. It’s kind of a waste,” he teased you right after he invited you.

“You don’t have to try to pressure me. I was going to say yes anyways,” you muttered. “I’m gonna to get ready.”

“Good! You’ll have a lot of fun, and I’m bringing Drake,” he announced before running off like a little kid to his room.

You don’t know why the idea of Drake being there made you so nervous. It took you longer than you thought to get ready because of the way your hand was trembling. By the time you’re done, your brother was impatiently in the car, drumming his fingers against the steering wheel.

“Finally dude. Come on. We’re already late. All the hot girls are gonna be taken and all the good punch is gonna be drank. I’m going to be pissed if I’m stuck drinking beer all night,” he told you, speeding out of the driveway before you were even buckled up.

When you got to the party, you recognized the house as one of your brother’s old friend’s house. You’d gone for a birthday party a couple times when you were younger. So, you slipped to the bathroom to double check your appearance before you ran into Drake.

Your hair was slicked back and pulled into a tight braid that snaked down your back. The black button up you’d gone with was fully buttoned, so you took a second to unbutton the first two. It wasn’t a job interview. You knew you shouldn’t look like such a prude. Your plain jeans and boots you knew were fine, so after hyping yourself up for a moment in the mirror, you rejoined the party.

Drinks were pushed into your hand, and you got pulled into random conversations. You didn’t see Drake, but the more you drank, the less you cared. It wasn’t until some guy was chatting to you about how hard his Computer Science degree was to get that you finally spotted Drake, glaring at you from across the living room.

A laugh escaped your lips. Even when everyone else was having fun, he was cold and unmoving. The guy you’d been chatting with you acted offended, but you didn’t care all that much. Your body was warm from the alcohol, and you had a confidence you’d never had before. You apologized and slipped away from him so you could make your way to Drake.

“Hey loner,” you said with a smirk as you plopped next to him.

“What do you want?” he muttered, folding his arms over his chest and turning away.

His annoyance only made you more insistent on talking to him. You touched his arm at one point, making him reel back as if you burned him. It hurt a little bit, but you swallowed it down. Eventually, your brother came to find you, and was surprised to find you red faced and slurring drunk.

“Man, I really wanted to run Y/N home real quick so I could go home with this girl, but getting him anywhere is going to take forever,” he groaned.

“I’ll take him home,” Drake offered, though you could tell from his tone of voice he was still annoyed.

You yawned, resting your head on Drake’s shoulder. “I’m good. Seriously. Drake’s such a buzz kill that it’s not like I’m putting a damper on his night. You should go have fun though.”

Your brother laughed, ruffling your hair and fist bumping Drake. Drake muttered something you didn’t catch through the blood pounding in your ears. A few minutes after your brother left, Drake pushed you off of him.

“Come on Y/N. You can stay over with me for tonight. I don’t want to wake your folks up this late and there’s no getting you to bed quietly,” he said as he grabbed your hand, tugging you to your feet.

“Okay,” you said in a tight voice, your skin tingling where he was touching you. Your entire body was on fire.

He led you through the party, his fingers interlocked with yours to make sure you didn’t get lost. Once outside, he tugged you closer to him, wrapping his arm around your waist to keep you pressed against his side. You took the opportunity to nuzzle against his arm, almost burrowing there. You felt like you were on cloud nine.

Drake groaned and you were worried he was going to push you away, but he didn’t. Instead, he clung tighter to you, his nails feeling almost like… claws.

[loveanton]

everything i didn’t say | eunseok + sungchan

⟶ 𝑠𝑢𝑚𝑚𝑎𝑟𝑦: you’ve always been a constant in jung sungchan’s life, he never once imagined a world where you weren’t in his life and often took you for granted. never once realizing just how much you loved him until it was too late.

❥ 𝑝𝑎𝑖𝑟𝑖𝑛𝑔: sungchan x f!reader x eunseok

❥ 𝑔𝑒𝑛𝑟𝑒: friends to almost lovers!au

❥ 𝑤𝑜𝑟𝑑 𝑐𝑜𝑢𝑛𝑡: 4.5k

⟶ 𝑤𝑎𝑟𝑛𝑖𝑛𝑔𝑠: heartbreak, sungchan is a meanie and says hurtful things.

⏤ 𝑎/n: was listening to old 5sos and inspiration struck

You've always been in love with Sungchan. From the very first moment you met him in the school courtyard, when he handed you that crumpled homework sheet with a shy smile, you knew he was different. As the years passed, that initial spark only grew stronger, turning into a fierce flame that consumed you every time you saw him. It’s funny, really, how someone can become your entire world without them even realizing it. Every laugh you shared, every secret you whispered, every moment you spent together, it was like living in a dream. But dreams are fragile, and reality has a way of waking you up abruptly.

Sungchan was always a constant in your life, a steady presence that you could always count on. He never once imagined a world where you weren’t there, by his side, supporting him through thick and thin. You think he took it for granted, your unwavering loyalty and affection. Not that you ever blamed him. It’s easy to overlook what’s always there, right in front of you.

You both grew up together, navigating the tumultuous years of adolescence, laughing through your awkward phases, and holding each other up through heartbreaks and disappointments. Sungchan had a magnetic personality; he was charming, kind, and effortlessly popular. People were drawn to him, and he thrived on the attention, though he remained humble and grounded. You, on the other hand, were content to remain in the background, his ever-present shadow, silently cheering him on.

There were moments when you thought he might feel the same way, fleeting glances and lingering touches that set your heart racing. But they were always followed by casual comments about other girls, reminders that you were firmly placed in the friend zone. Still, you held onto hope, convinced that one day he would see you, truly see you, for who you were and how deeply you cared for him.

You wonder when that day will come.

“Sungchan, I really don’t want to go to this party,” you say, trying to keep the whine out of your voice as you hug a cushion to your chest. “I’d rather just stay home and watch anime.”

Sungchan pouts, leaning against your bedroom door. “Come on, it’s going to be fun! Everyone’s going to be there, and I don’t want to go without you.”

Eunseok, Sungchan’s roommate and your mutual friend, looks up from his phone with a smirk. “Dude, if she doesn’t want to go, don’t hound her. Let her have her anime night in peace.”

Sungchan shoots Eunseok a pleading look. “Eunseok, help me out here. You know how boring it’ll be without her.”

Eunseok shrugs, leaning back against the wall. “Why don’t you just go by yourself for once? You don’t need to drag her to every single party, man.”

You smile gratefully at Eunseok, appreciating his attempt to take the pressure off. “Thanks, Eunseok. Besides, you know I’m not really a party person.”

Sungchan sighs dramatically, running a hand through his hair. “Please? Just this one last time? I promise I won’t bug you about parties anymore if you come tonight.”

You glance at Eunseok, who raises an eyebrow and grins. “Fine,” you say, giving in. “But only if Eunseok goes too.”

Eunseok chuckles. “Alright, I guess I can sacrifice my night to keep you two company.”

Sungchan’s face lights up, and he pumps his fist in the air. “Yes! It’s going to be awesome, I promise!”

Later that night, the three of you meet up and head to the party together. As soon as you walk through the door, the noise and energy hit you like a wave. Sungchan, in his element, quickly spots some friends and ditches you and Eunseok without a second thought.

You expected this. Taking a deep breath, you turn to Eunseok. “Guess it’s just you and me, then.”

He nods, giving you a sympathetic smile. “Let’s find a quieter spot, yeah?”

You both navigate through the crowd, eventually finding a relatively peaceful corner where the music is a little less deafening. You sit down on a couch, and Eunseok joins you, leaning back and looking around with mild interest.

“So, what’s the deal with you and Sungchan?” he asks after a moment. “You’ve been friends forever, right?”

“Yeah, since middle school,” you reply, feeling a familiar pang in your chest. “He’s always been there for me.”

Eunseok nods, studying your face. “And you’re always there for him.”

You sigh, picking at a loose thread on the couch. “I guess.”

Eunseok’s eyes soften. “You like him, don’t you?”

Your heart skips a beat, and you glance at him, startled. “Is it that obvious?”

He shrugs, giving you a small, knowing smile. “I’m observant. And it’s not just me. Everyone who’s close to you can see it.”

You feel a flush creeping up your neck. “I’ve tried to keep it a secret.”

Eunseok shakes his head. “You’re not fooling anyone. And honestly, I don’t think Sungchan is as clueless as he pretends to be.”

You stiffen, your eyes narrowing. “What do you mean?”

Before Eunseok can answer, you spot Sungchan across the room, laughing with Yuri, the popular tennis captain. Your heart sinks as you watch them together, the easy way they interact, the chemistry that’s undeniable.

She’s beautiful, confident, and completely captivated by Sungchan. The way she looks at him, with an intensity that mirrors your own hidden feelings, sends a pang of jealousy through your chest. You try to shake it off, to remind yourself that Sungchan and you are just friends, that you have no claim over him. But it hurts, more than you want to admit.

Eunseok follows your gaze and sighs. “Why do you let him do this to you?”

You tear your eyes away from Sungchan and look at Eunseok, confused. “Do what?”

“Play with your feelings like this,” he says softly. “It’s like he knows exactly how you feel and he’s just stringing you along.”

You shake your head, feeling a surge of anger. “No, Sungchan isn’t like that. He’s not cruel.”

Eunseok holds up his hands in a placating gesture. “He brought you to a party knowing you hate them just to abandon you. You deserve better.”

Tears prick at the corners of your eyes, and you blink them away, not wanting to cry in front of Eunseok. “I don’t know. Maybe I’m just being stupid.”

“You’re not stupid,” Eunseok says firmly. “You have a big heart, and you care deeply. That’s not a bad thing. But you also need to take care of yourself.”

You look down, feeling a mixture of emotions swirling inside you. “I just...I keep hoping that he’ll see me. Really see me.”

Eunseok leans closer, his voice gentle. “And what if he never does? Are you going to keep waiting forever?”

You bite your lip, unable to answer. The thought of giving up on Sungchan is too painful to contemplate.

Eunseok sighs, placing a hand on yours. “You’re a wonderful person. Anyone would be lucky to have you in their life. Don’t waste your time on someone who doesn’t appreciate that.”

You look up at him, grateful for his words even though they sting. “Thanks, Eunseok. I needed to hear that.”

He smiles, squeezing your shoulder reassuringly. “Anytime.”

The rest of the night passes in a blur. You stick close to Eunseok, finding comfort in his presence. He’s a good listener, and you find yourself opening up to him more than you expected. He shares stories about his own life, his ambitions, and his struggles, and you realize how little you actually knew about him before tonight.

As the night wears on, you watch Sungchan and Yuri grow closer, their conversation becoming more intimate, their touches more frequent. You felt like an outsider, a silent observer to the budding romance that was unfolding before your eyes. You knew then that you were losing him, that the dream you had cherished for so long was slipping away.

As the party winds down, you and Eunseok decide to leave. Sungchan is nowhere to be found, still presumably with Yuri. You walk back to your apartment with Eunseok, the cool night air helping to clear your mind.

When you reach your door, Eunseok turns to you with a serious expression. “Remember what I said. You deserve to be happy.”

You nod, feeling a warmth in your chest that wasn’t there before. “I will. Thanks, Eunseok.”

He smiles and gives you a small wave before heading to his own apartment. You watch him go, a sense of calm settling over you.

The next morning, you wake up to a series of text messages lighting up your phone. Blinking away the sleep, you scroll through the notifications. Eunseok’s message catches your eye first.

[eunseok]: Hey, just checking in. How are you feeling this morning?

A soft smile tugs at your lips, warmth spreading through your chest at his concern. You scroll down to find another message from Sungchan.

[sungchanie]: last night was wild! i think i met the love of my life lol.”

Your heart sinks. You feel a sharp pang of jealousy and sadness. Taking a deep breath, you compose yourself and respond to Sungchan’s message with a simple thumbs-up emoji. You then turn back to Eunseok’s message, grateful for his support.

[you]: morning eunseok. just found out that sungchan thinks yuri is the love of his life lol :p

His reply is almost immediate.

[eunseok]: I’m sorry to hear that. Would you like me to come over? I have ice cream and a Netflix subscription.

You giggle despite yourself, feeling a bit lighter.

[you]: yes please! cookie dough ice cream?

[eunseok]: You got it. Be there soon.

A short while later, there’s a knock on your door. You open it to find Eunseok standing there with a tub of cookie dough ice cream, two spoons and a warm smile.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping inside. He doesn’t ask any questions, just pulls you into a hug and leads you to the couch.

“Hey,” you reply, feeling a little better already.

You both settle in, the ice cream tub between you. As the first romcom starts playing, you can’t help but feel grateful for Eunseok’s presence. He makes you laugh at all the right moments, and the pain of seeing Sungchan with Yuri begins to fade into the background.

By the time you’re halfway through the second movie, you find yourself cuddled up against Eunseok, his arm draped over your shoulders. The warmth and comfort you feel with him are undeniable, and for the first time in a long while, you feel a sense of peace.

However a series of knocks on the door soon interrupts your tranquility. Sighing, you disentangle yourself from Eunseok and head to answer it. Standing there is Sungchan, his usual bright smile on his face.

“Hey! You won’t believe how amazing Yuri is,” he starts, letting himself in. His excitement is palpable, but it quickly dims when he spots Eunseok on the couch, occupying what has always been his unspoken spot.

“What’s he doing here?” Sungchan asks, his eyes narrowing slightly.

Eunseok looks up casually. “Hanging out with ____”

You take a deep breath, summoning the strength you’ve been cultivating over the past few hours. “Sungchan, we’re busy right now. Can you come back later?”

Sungchan looks taken aback, surprise flickering across his face. He glances between you and Eunseok before nodding slowly. “Uh, sure. I’ll catch you later then.”

You watch him leave, closing the door gently behind him. Turning back to Eunseok, you feel a strange mixture of relief and anxiety.

“I’m proud of you,” Eunseok says softly, pulling you back into his arms. “I know that probably wasn’t easy.”

You blush, shrugging lightly. “It’s... getting easier.”

The next few weeks follow a similar pattern. You and Eunseok spend more time together, finding comfort in each other’s company. You gradually start to distance yourself from Sungchan, realizing that holding onto the hope of him seeing you differently only brings more pain.

Sometimes, the days that follow are a blur of pain and numbness. Sungchan calls and texts you, mostly about Yuri and you can’t bring yourself to respond. You need space, time to come to terms with the reality that he has found someone else, someone who isn’t you. You tell yourself that you should be happy for him, that his happiness is all that matters, but it’s a bitter pill to swallow.

One evening, as you're sitting in your room, trying to focus on studying, your phone lights up with a text message. It’s from Sungchan.

[sungchanie]: did i do something wrong?

Your heart sinks at the message. Despite everything, you still care deeply about him, and the thought of hurting him hurts you too. You stare at the screen, unsure of how to respond.

A few minutes later, another message comes through.

[sungchanie]: i hate the silent treatment y/n :(

You take a deep breath, your fingers hovering over the keyboard. As much as you don’t want to feel anything for him anymore, you can’t deny the rush of emotions that flood your chest.

[you]: “hey sungchan. you haven’t done anything wrong,,,just been swamped with classes and needed some time to myself

Almost immediately, your phone buzzes with another message from him.

[sungchanie]: can i come over? i miss hanging out with you

You hesitate for a moment, chewing on your bottom lip. Despite everything, you find yourself typing back.

[you]: sure

Not long after, there’s a knock on your door. You take a deep breath and open it to find Sungchan standing there with a sheepish smile.

“Hey,” he says softly, stepping inside. “I’ve missed you.”

You manage a small smile. “I’ve missed you too.”

He glances around your room. “Where’s Eunseok? I’m surprised he’s not attached to your hip.”

You chuckle nervously, feeling a pang of guilt. “He’s at a study group.”

Sungchan nods, taking a seat on your bed. “So, about Yuri...”

Your heart sinks, but you swallow the lump in your throat and force a smile. “Yeah, tell me about her.”

Sungchan launches into how he and Yuri have been on a few dates, how he thinks he’s going to ask her out officially soon. You listen, nodding along and trying to push down the ache in your chest.

“That’s great, Sungchan,” you manage to say, forcing cheerfulness into your tone. “I’m really happy for you.”

Just then, your phone buzzes with a text message from Eunseok.

[eunseok]: Hey! Would you like to join me and some friends for a game night tonight?

You smile at the invitation and text back quickly.

[you]: sure! i’ll be there ^-^

Sungchan glances at your phone curiously. “Who’s that?”

You hesitate, then decide to be honest. “It’s Eunseok. He invited me to join him for a game night with his friends.”

Sungchan’s expression shifts slightly, a flicker of jealousy crossing his face. “Oh. Are you guys... dating?”

Your heart skips a beat at the question, and you falter for a moment. “Um, no, we’re just friends.”

But Sungchan doesn’t seem satisfied with your answer. His brows furrow, and he leans forward, his voice tinged with frustration. “It’s just... you two seem really close. It almost feels like he’s replacing me.”

You feel a surge of frustration and hurt. “Sungchan, he’s just being a good friend. No one could ever replace you.”

He shakes his head, his frustration boiling over. “Do you even realize what you’re doing? You’re letting Eunseok get in between us!”

Your eyes widen in shock. “What are you talking about? There’s nothing going on between me and Eunseok. He’s just my friend.”

Sungchan stands up, his voice rising. “I’ve known you for so long, and now suddenly Eunseok is always around. It’s like I don’t even matter anymore!”

You stand up too, your own anger bubbling. “That’s not fair, Sungchan! You’ve been spending all your time with Yuri, and I needed someone to talk to. Eunseok has been there for me when you weren’t.”

He scoffs, shaking his head. “You don’t get it, do you? You’ve replaced me with him. Every time I turn around, he’s there. And it feels like you don’t even care.”

Tears prick at your eyes as you try to defend yourself. “I do care! But you’re the one who’s been distant. You’re the one who found someone else.”

Sungchan’s eyes flash with hurt and anger. “Maybe I did, but that doesn’t mean you had to replace me so easily.”

You shake your head, feeling the weight of his words. “You’re being unfair, Sungchan. Eunseok is just a good friend. You’re the one who’s been pushing me away.”

His face hardens, and he takes a step back. “Maybe I needed to, because it hurts too much to see you with him.”

You’re stunned into silence, the weight of his confession hanging in the air. Before you can say anything, he turns on his heel and storms out of your room, slamming the door behind him.

You collapse onto your bed, tears streaming down your face. The argument replays in your mind, each word cutting deeper than the last. You can’t shake the feeling of loss and confusion, wondering how things went so wrong.

Despite your pain, you decide to suck it up and go to the game night. You text Eunseok, letting him know you’re on your way. When you arrive, his friends greet you warmly, their cheerful banter and infectious energy immediately starting to lift your spirits.

Eunseok’s friends, Beomgyu, Anton, Karina, Yujin and Jake, quickly draw you into their circle. They’re a lively bunch, and it’s impossible not to be swept up in their enthusiasm.

“Alright, who’s ready for a game of spoons?” Beomgyu announces, waggling his eyebrows mischievously.

“You’re not planning to cheat again, are you, Beomgyu?” Yujin teases, raising an eyebrow.

He gasps dramatically. “Me? Cheat? Never!” But there’s a twinkle in his eye that suggests otherwise.

Anton and Jake’s dynamic is particularly amusing. Anton is calm and methodical, while Jake is a bundle of energy, constantly in motion. They bicker and banter like an old married couple, which keeps you entertained and helps take your mind off Sungchan.

As the game progresses, you can’t help but notice Beomgyu’s suspiciously fast reflexes. Every time a spoon is up for grabs, he somehow always manages to snatch it first.

“I’m onto you, Beomgyu,” you say with a mock-serious tone after he wins yet another round. “You’re definitely cheating.”

He laughs, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “I’m just that good, I swear!”

Eunseok, sitting next to you, chuckles. “Don’t let him fool you, ____. Beomgyu’s a known cheater.”

You laugh along, feeling more relaxed than you have all evening but Eunseok’s keen eyes don’t miss the occasional flickers of sadness that cross your face. After you both lose a particularly intense round of spoons, he stands up and offers you a hand.

“Help me with snacks in the kitchen?” he asks gently.

You nod and follow him, grateful for the brief escape. In the kitchen, Eunseok begins prepping more snacks, occasionally feeding you bits of fruit or cheese.

“Are you okay?” he asks softly, his concern evident.

You sigh, leaning against the counter. “Sungchan and I got into an argument before I came over.”

Eunseok pauses, looking at you intently. “What was it about?”

You hesitate, then spill the details about Sungchan feeling replaced by Eunseok and how hurt and jealous he seemed. Eunseok’s expression darkens.

“He said that it hurt too much to see us together.”

“That’s manipulative,” he says bluntly.

You shake your head, feeling a rush of defensiveness. “He’s just hurt, Eunseok.”

“He knows what he’s doing, ____,” Eunseok counters. “Why would he say that it hurts to see us together if he doesn’t have feelings for you? He’s just stringing you along.”

You don’t know what to say, the truth of his words sinking in but conflicting with your loyalty to Sungchan. The emotions swirling inside you become too much to handle.

“I think I should go home,” you finally say, your voice small.

Eunseok’s face falls. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin your night.”

“It’s not you,” you reassure him, managing a weak smile. “It’s just hitting me how messed up this situation is.”

He sighs, running a hand through his hair. “Let me walk you home.”

You shake your head. “No, you should stay with your friends. I’ll be fine.”

Reluctantly, Eunseok nods. “Alright, but text me when you get home, okay?”

“I will,” you promise.

As you make your way home, your mind races with thoughts of the evening’s events. You replay Eunseok’s words over and over, feeling a mixture of frustration, sadness, and an unexpected hint of clarity.

When you finally arrive home, you text Eunseok as promised.

[you]: i’m home. thanks for tonight

[eunseok]: Anytime. I'm here if you need to talk.

You appreciate his unwavering support but feel a heavy weight pressing on your chest. You sit on your bed, staring at your phone, wondering how you ended up in this tangled web of emotions.

The next week is a blur of classes and studying. You try to avoid thinking about Sungchan and focus on your schoolwork, but it’s a losing battle. His absence is a constant ache, a reminder of the distance growing between you.

Tonight, you find yourself standing in front of his apartment, your heart pounding in your chest. You don’t know what you hope to achieve, but you know you can’t keep pretending that everything is okay. You need closure, one way or another.

Before you can even knock, the door swings open and Sungchan stands there, surprise flashing across his face when he sees you. “____, what are you doing here?”

“I wanted to talk,” you say, trying to keep your voice steady.

Just then, Yuri pops out from behind Sungchan, wrapping her arms around his waist and planting a kiss on his lips. Your heart clenches as you watch them, but you force yourself to stay composed.

After a moment, Yuri finally pulls away. “I’ll see you later, Sungchan,” she says, giving him one last peck and you a smug grin before leaving.

Once she’s gone, Sungchan lets you in, making a snarky comment as he closes the door. “Where’s Eunseok? I thought he’d be glued to your side.”

You stay calm and reply, “I didn’t come to fight with you, Sungchan. I just want to clear the air.”

He nods, crossing his arms. “So, are you ready to apologize?”

You’re taken aback. “Apologize for what?”

“For being a bad friend recently,” he says, standing his ground.

Anger rises within you. “No, Sungchan. You’ve been a bad friend. You blew me off at the party after begging me to go. Then here comes Yuri, and now you’re completely pussy whipped.”

He scoffs, rolling his eyes. “Don’t tell me you’re jealous of Yuri. I thought you’d be over your little high school crush by now.”

The words hit you like a punch to the gut. “What?”

Sungchan stares at you blankly and you feel anger coursing through your veins as you realize he’s known all this time. He knew just how much you love and care for him and he took it selfishly, knowing just what to say to keep you by his side. He only ever gave you just enough to string you along and give you false hope. Eunseok was right.

“How could you be so... so cruel? All this time you knew I liked you but led me on and kept me around for your own satisfaction. How could you do that? We’re supposed to be best friends.”

“Exactly,” he snaps back. “Best friends. So stop thinking we’ll ever be more. It weirds me out.”

The argument escalates, voices rising with each exchange.

“You knew,” you say, tears welling up in your eyes. “You knew how I felt and you still... How could you do that?”

“I didn’t have feelings for you then, and I still don’t now,” Sungchan retorts, his face twisted in anger. “You need to move on.”

“How could you be so heartless?” you cry out, the pain evident in your voice. “You used me. You knew how much I cared and you used me.”

Sungchan’s expression softens for a moment, guilt flickering in his eyes, but it quickly hardens again. “I didn’t use you. I thought you were over it. I thought we were just friends.”

You shake your head, tears streaming down your face. “Go screw yourself, Sungchan.”

You turn towards the door, ready to leave, but before you can open it, Eunseok lets himself in. He sees your tears and Sungchan’s guilty expression, his own face hardening with anger.

“What the hell is going on here?” Eunseok demands, glaring at Sungchan before turning his attention to you. “Come on, let’s get out of here.”

He grabs your hand and leads you away, his grip firm but gentle. You don’t resist, too overwhelmed by the confrontation to do anything but follow him. He takes you to a nearby boba shop and finds a quiet corner for the two of you. After placing your orders, he brings your drink and sits beside you, offering silent support.

For a while, you both sip your drinks in silence. Then, Eunseok starts talking about his economics midterm, detailing how tough it was and how he’s sure he failed. You appreciate his attempt to distract you and let him continue, feeling a small sense of normalcy returning.

Once he’s done venting about his exam, you take a deep breath and softly say, “Thank you.”

He smiles gently. “You never have to thank me. I’m here for you, always.”

He looks at you with gentle concern. “Do you want to talk about it?”

You play with the straw of your drink, gathering your thoughts. “We had a huge fight. Sungchan said some really hurtful things… things I didn’t expect him to say.”

Eunseok’s face darkens. “What did he say?”

You recount the argument, detailing how Sungchan accused you of being a bad friend and dismissed your feelings as a mere high school crush. By the time you’re done, Eunseok is seething with anger on your behalf.

“He’s an immature prick,” he snaps, his eyes flashing with anger. “How could he say those things to you? After everything you’ve done for him?”

“I don’t know,” you whisper, tears welling up again. “I thought he was my best friend.”

Eunseok takes your hand in his, squeezing it reassuringly. “You deserve so much better, ____. Don’t let him make you feel like you’re in the wrong. You’ve been an amazing friend to him, and he doesn’t appreciate it.”

His words are like a balm to your wounded heart, and you manage a small smile. “Thank you, Eunseok. I don’t know what I’d do without you.”

He smiles back, his anger slowly dissipating. “You’ll never have to find out. I’m here for you, always.”

The two of you sit in comfortable silence for a while, sipping your drinks and finding solace in each other’s presence.

[luvhughes43]

ice cream? | dad!quinn hughes

luvhughes43 masterlist🌙

request: can you write another one like your uncle jack story? i loveddd it!! maybe jack and luke are babysitting quinn’s daughter. i feel like they’d mac and cheese for dinner and both completely struggle doing it. and when it’s bedtime the toddler has a tantrum and they so gentle with her (but also kinda freaking out and don’t know what to do) and end up giving her ice cream and letting her watch a movie with them and she falls asleep on one of them. and quinn and mom come home like really guys?! you let a three year old tell you what to do 

word count: 1.2k

“What are you doing? you don't put the tinfoil bit in the microwave?!” Jack scolded his younger brother Luke as he yanked open the microwave before it set itself on fire. 

Luke stood dumbfounded, “how else are you supposed to cook it?”

the “it” in question being a mini cup of mac and cheese. Quinn thought it would be the safest dinner option and yet…

“Okay, let me do this you go entertain the baby” Jack shoos Luke away and towards an adorable toddler who smiled gummily up at her uncles. 

Luke scoops the little girl up, who giggles all the way to the couch. Luke plops them both down and reaches for the tv remote. 

“Shit!” Jack swears as he rips the microwave open. “Luke! You put in too much water!” 

Luke clicks the volume up on the tv. “You like paw patrol! Yeah, let's watch paw patrol!” Luke cheers to his niece who continues to giggle at her uncle's antics. 

“Doggy!” the little girl shouts as she points at the screen. Luke nods enthusiastically as he tunes out Jack's grumblings from the kitchen. 

15 minutes later, dinner was served.

Luke picked at his plate, “dude…”

“if you say that this is gross i swear…” Jack cut in. 

Before a small fight could break out, both brothers' attention were brought to the little girl in the high chair. “Yummy!” she smiled, lifting up her little plastic spoon and shovelling more of the questionable mac and cheese into her mouth. 

“ha! She likes it!”

“Jack… she's 2.. She was eating canned mashed peas like a month ago,” Luke replies.

Jack scowls. “It's literally your fault that the mac and cheese-”

“Play now!” their niece once again recaptures their attention as she shows them her empty plate. 

Jack gets up from the table and takes his niece out of her high chair.

After an hour of playing, the brothers get a text. 

hughes bros👨‍👨‍👦

quinn: Put my baby to bed now it's getting late. If she gets a little fussy read her another bedtime story she usually falls asleep after two stories. 

“your daddy says it's bedtime!” Jack coos to the little girl sitting in front of him and she immediately starts pouting. 

She throws the bright red block she's holding and yells, “no!”

“Luke, you wanna put her to bed?” Jack asks as he watches the toddler throw a small tantrum. She was rolling around on the floor now, toys long forgotten. 

“No sleep! No sleep!” she repeated, looking up at her uncles with her infamous puppy dog eyes. 

Luke walks over and picks her up off the floor. “Why don't we go read a story! That's so much fun!” Luke exclaims happily and the little girl in his arms continues to frown. 

“yeah let's read a story!” Jack cheers in an attempt to get the young girl to stop pouting. “I love stories!” 

“No!” she shouts again. 

Luke ignores her shouts, and carries her into her bedroom where she continues to pout. “Uncle Jacks going to pick out a really fun book while I get you ready for bed, okay?” 

“No!” 

After 20 minutes of fighting with the young girl, she was finally all ready for bed. As soon as she was in her crib, she immediately settled down and was happy to hear her story. She insisted on both of her uncles reading to her, and by the time they were done the first story she had already drifted off to sleep.

Jack and Luke sat in the living room, both on their phones as they waited for their brother and his wife to return.

“Wow this has been really easy!” Luke joked.

Jack looked over, rolling his eyes. “You almost burnt down the apartment” 

“Yeah but the baby's asleep now so does it really matter?” 

Jack shakes his head, “i’m not even going to reply to that”

“‘ACK! ‘UKE!” the wails of their niece ring out through the quiet apartment.

Both boys look at each other, and then immediately rush into their niece's bedroom. “What's up?” Jack coos, voice soft as he approaches the little girl with tears streaming down her face.

The little girl continues to cry. She stands up by the edge of the crib and holds her arms out to her uncles. Luke takes the hint and lifts the girl out of her crib and into his arms. 

“No sleep” she whispers against her uncle Luke's chest and both boys stare blankly at each other.

“But you have to go to sleep,” Luke tries, but the girl shakes her head. 

“No!” she cries. 

The cries only get worse, so Jack has the brilliant idea of feeding the girl some ice cream.

“Two year olds can have ice cream right?” he asks as he pulls the large tub out of his older brother's freezer. 

Luke nods, “yeah i'm sure vanilias safe for kids”  he shrugs the shoulder that his niece is not laying against. 

“You want some ice cream?” Jack asks as he holds a baby spoon up with a tiny bit of ice cream. The girl eagerly nods and reaches one hand out for the spoon.

The boys move to the couch, the little girl sat between them with her little bowl of ice cream in her lap. A movie softly plays in the background, lulling the girl to sleep with her hand in her ice cream bowl and head pressed against her uncle jack. 

At the sound of the front door unlocking, both boys sit upright. “Shit! Don't wake her up!” Luke whisper-shouts as he stands up and starts clearing off the coffee table. There was ice cream everywhere, courtesy of the sleeping 2 year old clinging to Jack's side. 

“Take her bowl!” Jack whispers as he tries to lift the baby's hand out of the sticky bowl. 

“You gave my daughter ice cream before bed?” Quinn questions, surveying the messy kitchen and living room. 

Luke, hands full of the incriminating ice cream bowls, shrugs. “She’s teething?” he says, but it comes out more of a question.

“My baby's teething? Are her molars coming through?” your worried voice drifts through the apartment as you step inside. 

“No!”

“Yes!” 

Jack and Luke both speak at the same time. 

“Right… okay i’ll take my baby back now!” Quinn speaks. When he reaches down to lift his daughter up though, he sees her ice cream coated hands. Quinn doesn't have to say anything.

“Right well! This was really nice so…"Jack trails off when Quinn finally has his daughter in his arms. She was asleep, so what did it really matter if she had some ice cream? 

“Yeah! I’ll see you next time!” Luke says, retreating into the guest bedroom. 

“Yeah, what he said! It's been great!” Jack mimics Luke.

“You're cleaning this up tomorrow,” Quinn's voice is fully in dad mode as he looks around the messy room. 

Jack nods enthusiastically before bidding the small family his goodnights. 

“Thank you for babysitting!” you whisper yell, which Jack responds with a quick thumbs up. 

A second later the guest bedroom door is clicked shut and Quinn and you are left standing in your quiet living room. 

“They're never babysitting again” Quinn sighs, looking down at his daughter who was covered in ice cream. 

“No, they're not” you sigh, leaning over and pressing a soft kiss to your daughter's forehead. “Letting a 2 year old tell them what to do… you got those boys wrapped around your finger!” you whisper to your little girl.

[baby-alien11]

hii anon, accidentally posted it first without finish it (just had two lines) so here it goes again, I hope you like it

being pregnant with Ethan's baby

just like the last one, there's no ghostface in this

You and Ethan knew each other due to you being best friend with his sister Quinn

Thanks to that you use to spend a lot of time on the Bailey household

Even if you were there for Quinn, Ethan and you often shared some glances that ended up in the boy with his face red

Soon the glances between each other started to be more flirtatious

Quinn found that gross

When it was time to move to university, the three of you ended up in Balckmore University in New York

Wanting to be roomies, you and Quinn ended up sharing an appartment with the Carpenter sisters, while Ethan went to the dorms ended up being Chad's roomie, which was friend with the sisters

Things continued to be the usual between you and Ethan with the flirtatious glances and some casual touches

Certainly, everyone in the group noticed the sparks between Ethan and you, but Chad was the most annoyed by that

"Dude, you have to move real quick before she finds someone", Chad exclaimed while walking around campus

"She is my sister's best friend", Ethan responded, "Quinn will kill me if she find out I'm hitting on her best friend"

"You're overreacting"

"One time when we were eight years old I accidentally eat her popsicle, and you know what she did? She decapitaded almost all my action figures"

"That's scary, but you still have to try"

Still a little scared, Ethan decided to listen to Chad's advice

So he started to talk to you a little more, which made you happy because you kinda like him

Things continued like that, until the night of a themed frat party came

Of course the theme had to be only underwear

(A/N: the idea came from The Sex Lives of the College Girls, i love that series)

That night you decided to wear a baby blue lace lingerie set with a black robe on top

During the whole night, Ethan and you spend it together talking and sharing drinks, even kissing at some point

Due to being a little drunk, both of you decided to look for a little more intimate space, so without saying anything to the others, the two of you went upstairs finding an empty room

Of course, the inevitable happened, Ethan was no longer a virgin

The next weeks, everything went their normal way, but you and Ethan continue to see each other without Quinn's knowledge

Until you started to feel sick

At first, you thought it was for something you ate during a dinner with the whole friend group

But Quinn had another theory

"Quinn, what is this?", you asked after she threw a pharmacy bag in your bed

"I know for a fact that you aren't sick for the food of the past week", Quinn started, "And that you've been fucking with some mysterious guy for the last weeks, and that your period is late, this bag is full of pregnancy tests"

"Oh my God!", you exclaimed hiding your face on your hands, "Are you serious?"

"Totally", Quinn nodded, "And I won't leave you until you take all of the five test"

Sighing in defeat you took the paper bag to start walking to the shared bathroom, feeling a little nervous because the only person you had sex in the last weeks was Ethan

With Quinn following you, both of you entered the bathroom where after fifteen minutes, the results came

It was positive

"I'm pregnant", you murmured in disbelief

"You're pregnant", Quinn nodded, "Who is the father?"

"You are going to kill me"

"I won't, just tell me"

"Fine, is someone from our group"

"Well, Chad isn't because he's head over heels with Tara, and the other boy is...motherfucker"

In a second, Quinn bursted out of the bathroom in the direction of the living room where the group was, with you following close

"You are the worst brother ever!", Quinn exclaimed scaring everyone, mostly Ethan, "Not only you have been fucking my best friend for weeks, you've got her pregnant! I'm going to fucking kill you!"

After finishing that sentence, everything went silent in the appartment due to the shock of the sudden news, still shocked, Ethan turned to look at you with questioning in his eyes asking if it was real, at what you responded nodding with your head

After half an hour of Quinn chasing Ethan around the appartment with Sam and Chad trying to stop her, and you being consoled by Mindy, Anika and Tara, things calmed down

While the others tried to calm Quinn, you and Ethan locked in your room to talk about the situation, and after an hour of talking both of you decided to keep the baby

Telling the decision to the others was easy because of what happened earlier, Quinn, who was a little upset for all the revelations simply went to lock herself in her room, which made you a little sad because she was your best friend

That same weekend, you and Ethan went to tell his dad the news, arriving at the police station where he worked, both of you waited for a while until Wayne let you go to his office

"So, what do you bring two you here?", Wayne asked organizing some papers, "It's weird not seeing Quinn with you"

"She's kinda mad at us right now", you responded a little nervous

"Don't tell me you are dating?", Wayne asked with enthusiasm, "She shouldn't be mad at that, this is good"

"There's actually more than that", Ethan spoke slightly trembling, "Y/N is pregnant"

Hearing that sentence, Wayne sighed sitting in his chair and covering his face with his hands

"What are you going to do with the baby?", Wayne asked after a few seconds

"We decided to keep it", you answered

"In that case, Ethan you'll start working here with me on the weekends to have money when the baby comes, I'll talk to Quinn later about her attitude, have you told your parents about this?"

"Not yet", you sighed

"You have to do it soon", Wayne said

Because of your parents spend time traveling now that you were in college, the only way to contact them was by a videocall, telling them the news about the pregancy weren't good for them, their response to that, was telling you that they were dissapointed with you and that they didn't wanted to see you again, leaving you with a week to take your things out of their house

After finishing that call, you cried all the afternoon while being held by Ethan in your room

That same weekend, you along with Ethan, Tara, Chad and Mindy went to your house were you packed almost all of your things (and slightly influenced by Tara, you took some of the money your parents kept in their safe box)

One thing that happened during the next week, was that Quinn appeared in your room

"Hi", Quinn greeted standing in your doorway

"Hey", you responded folding some clothes while sitting in your bed

"I heard about your parents, I'm sorry"

"Yeah, they were shitty sometimes, but at least I took some of their money when I went to take my things"

"That was badass", Quinn smiled entering to your room taking a sit in your desk chair, "And I want to say sorry about my reaction when I knew about the pregnancy and your relationship with my brother, it was wrong for me to ignore you for days, like we are best friends and this is such an important moment in your life, and I acted like a bitch, I'm really fucking sorry and I hope you can forgive me for that"

"I agree, you acted like a total bitch, but your reaction was understandable, we should've tell you the moment we started", you said

"So, now that we make things up, can I ask when this whole thing started?"

"Remember that only underwear party, the one you didn't attend because you had a date with the guy from political sciences?"

"He was from law, but yes, I suggested you to wear that cute blue set", Quinn nodded but then she closed her in eyes, "Did you two fuck in that party?"

"Yes", you answered fearing for her reaction

"If you excuse me, I'm going to puck", Quinn said standing up to walk to the door

Now that things were good with your best friend, you were more calmed

While Ethan started to work at the police station with his dad on the weekends, you decided to work from home using some of your graphic design knowledge for some small bussiness

When the second thrimester started, everyone slowly started to bring small things for the baby

Ethan also started to live in the appartment with you so that way he could be with you and the baby

Chad was sad for his roomie leaving

Morning sickness and the vomit were the worst symptomes of all, which leave you sleepy during part of the day

And since you couldn't drink coffee, you started to drink iced chai tea with caramel

So, everyday before college, you and Ethan would go to the college cafeteria for drinks and snacks

And if he couldn't, someone from the group would go with you, even sometimes all the group would go

When the time to know the gender of the baby came, you and Ethan entered the consultory, while Wayne and Quinn waited outside

It was a boy

From the moment everyone knew the gender of the baby, things were started to be bought for the moment the baby came

Quinn was the most excited of all for having a nephew to spoil, and soon that excitement was extended to everyone

Soon, the room that was only yours at first, then shared with Ethan, it was now filled with baby stuff

Also, some parts of the apartment were filled, like the kitchen with the formula and the baby bottles, the living room with some baby entertainment stuff, etc

While sleeping you used a special pregnancy pillow for your comfort, Ethan liked to sleep with his head next to your growing belly and circle your waist while one of your hands were tangled in his curly hair

Entering the third thrimester, things started to be a little chaotic because of the stress of the soon arriving

Most of all, making the apartment baby proof, even if it was to be a new born

Little by little the rest of the group started to move to the apartment, first was Chad with the excuse that he missed his roomie, and then it was Mindy and Anika saying that they wanted to be there in case of a sudden birth

Towards the last two months, Wayne started to spend part of his time in the apartment because he knew the baby will be born soon

At first the friend group was a little scared to have a police detective in their apartment, but after he started to tell embarrasing stories about Quinn and Ethan childhood, everyone was more relaxed

Except them

Honestly, you were relaxed, even if the due date was arriving soon, that's why during the spring break, instead of going to a travel like most of the students would do, the whole group organized a small lunch in the apartment like a late baby shower

"I miss eating sushi", you commented sitting at the table

"Just three more weeks", Mindy said, "After the baby is here you can eat all the sushi you want"

"That sounds beautiful", you exclaimed

"We'll have a sushi marathon", Quinn spoke

"So, my grandchild is arriving soon", Wayne said, "Have you chosen a name?"

"Not yet", Ethan mumbled

That answer left everyone shocked because the baby was arriving in less than a month

"You're kidding", Tara stated

"Actually not", you laughed nervously, "I mean, we've thought of some names, but we haven't decided"

"Dude, the baby is about to come out of you any time now, and you don't have a name yet?", Mindy exclaimed

That small chat sparkled a small discussion between everyone about the lack of the baby's name that lasted for a few minutes until you felt some pain in your belly, causing everyone to stop arguing to look at you

"What's wrong? Are you alright?", Ethan asked with urgency

"I think this are the contractions that the doctor mentioned in the last appointment", you responded taking strongly his arm

Hearing that sentence, caused a comotion in the appartment in which everyone started to panic for a little bit, until Wayne decided to go down and prepare the police car to go to the hospital, while you were coming down to the first floor with Ethan and Chad help, with Quinn behind carring the bag for you and for the baby

Once that you, Ethan and Quinn were in the car, Wayne started the road to the hospital

Thanks to be in a police car with the light and sound on, you were on the hospital in a record time, so they quickly put you in a hospital room to prepare you

During the next hours, you spend it having contractions, sleeping, eating and distracting yourself thanks to the rest of the group who arrived an hour after you

The next day, early in the morning, you started with the labour with Ethan and Quinn by your side while the others stayed outside waiting

For the next two hours, the only things that could be heard were your screams and the instructions from the nurses

"I can see the head", your main doctor exclaimed, "Keep pushing, Y/N, you're doing amazing"

Feeling a little curious, Ethan aproached the space between your legs to see what the doctor said, passing out the moment he saw the scene

"Did he just pass out?", Quinn asked in shock

"Fucking idiot", you murmured watching how some nurses dragged him to a corner

Fortunately, he was awake in a few minutes, but he didn't dare to look at that again

By eleven o'clock, your baby boy was born, and hearing his small cries made you and Ethan cry in happiness, while Quinn just hugged you and messed up with her brothers hair

After they cleaned him, they put him in your chest, noticing some curls in his head

Seeing your baby boy finally in your arms, Ethan and you looked at each other deciding what of the many names that both of you discussed will be, Anthony Bailey

[bluecollarmcandtf]

My Found Family

I never grew up with the luxury of family. As an orphan, my childhood was lacking to say the least, and it left me jealous of any kid with caring fathers and siblings. That's why I had to find my family. Nobody's perfect, but with a little reconditioning, I've trained them to be exactly what I was looking for.

This guy is now my father...

"Breakfast is ready, boys!" I call, using my lower register like I'm supposed to, "Whoops! I mean bacon-fest!"

Guttural laughter comes from my stomach even though I don't find my joke that funny. Bad jokes like this have sort of become my personality lately. In fact, my whole life has transformed over the last couple days. A week ago, I would've never imagined myself strolling around my house in nothing but underwear and a robe! My standards for style seem to have vanished along with pretty much every other part of my old way of being.

It happened three days ago at a grocery store, when I ran into this guy in the produce section. He caught me examining avocados for ripeness and walked right up, beginning to talk like we'd known each other for years.

It was all a bit bizarre, but I found myself unable to turn away. He was explaining my life to myself. Well, not my life, but the one he wanted me to live, the one I was meant to live, and I hung on his every word. He was maybe six years younger than myself, but I was to be his new daddy. It was a role I was proud to fill.

"Here you are, son," I grin widely, unable to contain the feelings of pride I have as he walks into the room.

"Thanks, old man," he answers and grabs the plate gratefully.

For a moment, I stand there and stare. My heart beats for my boy as he tears apart the food I made for him. My paternal instincts have been working overtime lately. I can't help but love that boy with every fatherly fiber of my being.

It doesn't matter that I never wanted kids before. Previously, I'd wanted to remain a bachelor forever, but I have them now, and it couldn't feel more perfect.

With a content grin, I turn back to the sizzling bacon and think about my day. Things I used to hate were now what I looked forward to; mowing the lawn, washing the car, cleaning the gutters. I have a full day of work ahead of me to keep this house in tip top shape. Of course, I'll do it all with an ice cold beer in my hand. I never had a taste for the stuff, but my boy thinks I should grow a bit more of a gut.

I know what I say goes around here, but I could never say no to my favorite son...

I obviously have dad wrapped around my finger, but he's not the only member of this family. This next dude is my new big bro...

"Fuck yeah," I grunt and sniff up the ripe stench under my arm, "Smells like a real fuckin' man!"

I toss the barbell down, finishing a new personal record on the bench press and I couldn't feel more pumped. My tank top and sweat pants are drenched with sweat, but I love bein' a nasty gym rat: at least, I do now.

A week ago I was waiting tables at this fancy restaurant, when one of the customers got to talking with me. He was sitting alone and looked kinda sad, so I tried to be friendly and I'm sure glad I did! I got a whole new family out of it. He made me quit my job and move into this sweet place. Now I'm his big brother!

Of course, like all big bro's, I'm supposed to work out in the garage all day. I was never one for weights, but I couldn't imagine my life without them anymore. I like to push my limits and get all hot and sweaty. Then I march around the house flexing and farting all over the place. It's not the most refined thing in the world, but my bro explained to me how much I don't care about hygiene and all that crap.

"Wassup, little man," I call as he saunters in.

"Nothing much," he answers, staring at my arms while I show off my biceps.

"Alright, get out of my space. I'm tryin' to work out," I snarl, acting as tough as possible, "Do I need to wrestle you again to prove my point?"

I definitely didn't used to be like this. I used to be the most polite and approachable guy in the world, always chatting random people up, but that guy's gone. My bro got rid of him and his old family. This new family is the only one I'm interested in now, even if I'm not supposed to show it. I'm supposed to be muscular, rude, and gross. It's who I am now.

"Alright, I'll leave you to it," he replies, "You can wrestle me though."

"I will," I frown, flexing even harder, "And this time, I'll win!"

Whenever we wrestle, I always end up with the urge to let him win. It sucks because I could easily beat him, and I should put him in his place, but for some reason, I just know I have to let him win. He just deserves it I guess.

I give him an intense glare and then return to my weights. These arms aren't going to pump themselves...

My big bro always makes my legs quiver, but I love seeing how cocky he can get. Of course, he'll never out wrestle me no matter how big he gets. I programmed him to let me win. Just like I programmed the breadwinner of the bunch...

A short groan rumbles from my lips. For some reason, everything has been disappointing me lately: my sons, my husband, my job has all been leaving me grumpy and frustrated. Even the channels on the TV aggravate the living hell out of me. I have to fight the urge to chuck the remote across the room.

"How was your day, honey," my husband asks, walking into the room and handing me a beer.

"Great," I moan without any emotion.

Everything's been changing so fast lately, and I couldn't be more over it. I was married to my work, busting ass for years to get promotion after promotion, and I had a job I loved that paid extremely well. I couldn't be more happy, even if I was the only unmarried guy in the office. I didn't mind. I loved my bowling league and my solo trips to Vegas too much to settle down.

Then I met him, my son. Well, he wasn't my son at the time, but after talking, I quickly realized who he was and who I was to him. I'm the head of the household, the disciplinarian, the breadwinner. At least, that's who I've become.

"What's for dinner?" I grunt, peeling my eyes away from the TV.

Looking at my husband, odd feelings bubble up. I used to know him as my neighbor, a nice enough guy, but now I'm married to him. It all happened so fast. He's changed too recently, I think. The guy I knew a week ago would've never walked around all day in a robe and underwear.

His hand reaches out and holds my own, "Steak and potatoes if that's alright with you."

I grunt in agreement, turning back to the TV. My husband's presence stirs my cock to life, straining my member against my work slacks.

This is another new development.

Until now, I'd never had a gay bone in my body. In some ways, I still don't, but my son explained how I should feel about my husband. I should love him, I should be turned on by him, and I should get it on with him. He's right, I suppose.

"Hey, I could use a blow job before you get cooking," I gesture to the thick tent in my pants.

My husband pauses for a moment like he's unsure of what to do, but then it comes to him, "Of course, babe, but we need to be quiet. Both of our boys are home right now."

"Don't worry about it. If they walk in without knocking they'll get the belt," I snort as my husband gets on his knees in front of me.

"You shouldn't be so hard on-" before he can finish, I've shoved his face into my crotch.

Somehow, I know I can be rough with him, just like I can be rough with our sons. I'm the man of the house after all. Within seconds I'm grunting in pleasure while staring at the evening news broadcast. For some reason, I always find myself watching it and complaining about current events. It's just who I am now..

I grin, sneaking a peak at my two dad's going at it in the living room like the good little couple they are. My new family couldn't be more perfect, but no family is complete without the dog...

"Ruff!" I bark, gleefully scampering over to the bowl of food that was just placed on the floor.

Without hesitating, I shove my face into the bowl, sending the little pellets flying everywhere. They taste like cardboard, but for some reason, I can't get enough of them! I've done nothing but drool and whine for the last hour while the real humans eat their dinner at the table.

"That's a good boy," a voice coos, and I feel fingers running through the hair on my head.

I can barely acknowledge being petted. I know I'm supposed to act like a hungry animal right now, so that's what I do.

I would've never thought I'd find myself as a house pet, but a couple days ago, this guy just walked up to me and talked me into it. It'd just been a normal day for me, working at the car garage when he became my master. I knew right there and then that I had to drop to my hands and knees and follow him home with my tongue out.

My new life has been great ever since. My masters play ball with me outside, they hose me down when I get muddy, and they snuggle with me on the couch at night. I barely even miss my old work and fiance!

"Alright, boy," one of my master's commands, "That's enough. Get in here!"

It's the mean one. The one who used to own this house, but is now just a working dad. He's always the one who hits me with a newspaper when I drink from the toilet. I don't know why, but I just feel compelled to do it!

Licking the bowl clean, I abandon it and crawl into the living room. There, the entire family is gathered around the television.

I stop by the smelly one and sneak in a few licks. I love licking him because he's always salty with sweat and smells funny. After licking his feet for too long, he kicks me away, "Leave me alone, mutt!"

"Oh don't talk to him that way," the nice one adds.

I climb on the couch and curl up beside him. His belly is always the perfect cushion for my head to rest on, and he always lets me lick his beer bottle when he's done. Within a couple minutes, I'm drifting off as his hands absently play with my hair...

...sitting with my family at night is always my favorite part. Watching TV with my two dads, brother, and dog heals the child in me that had always yearned for this. Sure, it might be easier to just go to therapy, but this is sure as hell a lot more fun!