#okay fair (game) but sTILL LEAVE ME ALONE

[retro-system]

i hate the rabbit game

[itneverendshere]

played me like a clarinet - rafe cameron (three) - finale

request: "Desperately-on my knees-begging for a ''She's all that'' from 1999, with Popular Rafe x Reader. Ooouff, and you want that soul crushing heartbreak when she finds out about the bet he had made"

pairing: rafe x smart!nerdy!reader.

warnings: more angst <3; part one here; part two

Staying away from Rafe was hard.

It was hard before you two tried to be friends and it’s even harder now that you gave him the no-contact ultimatum. Everywhere you went, it felt like he was there, even if he wasn’t. It was in the songs that played on the radio, in the way the sun set over the patio near your dorm, in the way his, now yours, shirts still smelled like him. 

You missed the late-night conversations, the way he’d laugh at your jokes, and how he could read you better than anyone else. But more than anything, you missed the way he made you feel—even if it wasn’t real at first. 

Every time your phone buzzed, you stupidly hoped it was him, even though you knew it wouldn’t be. You’d told him to stop, to leave you alone, and he had respected your boundaries even when it seemed like the last thing he wanted to do. And you’re proud of him for it—for once, he’s doing something right. But you’re mostly proud of yourself too, for sticking to your decision, for not letting him back in so easily.

Still, it doesn’t make it any easier.

You thought giving yourself space would help you move on, help you figure out if you could ever really trust him again. But instead, it just left this space where he used to be. You kept wondering how much of it was real for him—if any of it was. Maybe that’s why staying away felt impossible because a part of you wanted to believe he meant some of it, that his feelings weren’t just part of some game. 

You had to draw the line, to protect yourself from getting hurt all over again. And even though it hurt to keep him out, you knew it was the only way you’d figure out what you really wanted, without him clouding your judgment.

You tried to move on.

Slowly, cautiously, you started going on dates—nothing serious, just enough to remind yourself that there were other people out there, that Rafe wasn’t the only guy who could make you laugh or feel special. Every few weeks, you’d let yourself get dressed up, put on a smile, and meet someone new.

The first date was awkward, more like a practice run than anything else. You spent most of it comparing the guy to Rafe, noticing all the little things that didn’t measure up. It wasn’t fair to the guy, but you couldn’t help it. He wasn’t Rafe, and that’s all you could focus on. You ended the night with a polite hug and a promise to text, but you knew you wouldn’t.

The second date was better, but not by much. The guy was nice, made you laugh a few times, but there was no spark, no connection that made you want to see him again. You tried to be present, to give him a chance, but your mind kept drifting back to Rafe, to what he would say or how he would react to something. By the end of the night, you felt more exhausted than excited.

After that, you took a break. It was too soon, you told yourself. You weren’t ready to move on yet, and that was okay. 

Some days, you almost reached out to him. You’d pick up your phone, scroll through your messages, and your finger would hover over his name. It would be so easy to send a quick text, something casual, just to see how he was doing. But you never did. You knew that one message could ruinl everything you’d worked so hard to build—the distance, the boundaries, the fragile sense of self you were trying to protect.

Instead, you threw yourself into other things. Classes, the cheer squad, hobbies, anything to keep your mind occupied. You spent more time with friends, even though it was hard not to talk about him. You kept the conversations light, steering away from anything that would bring his name up. You didn’t want to be that person who couldn’t stop talking about their ex, who couldn’t let go, even if that’s exactly how you felt inside.

It helped, sometimes.

For brief moments, you’d find yourself genuinely laughing at a joke or losing yourself in a book or a project. But then something small would happen—a song on the radio, a glimpse of someone who looked like him, or the sound of his name in passing—and it would all come rushing back. It wasn’t fair. 

You’d think you’d be used to it by now, but each time it felt like a fresh wound. The memory of his laughter, the way his eyes crinkled when he smiled, the way he always knew just what to say—it was as if he left a ghost behind, haunting every corner of your life. And in those moments when you’d catch yourself smiling or feeling light, it was like a betrayal. How could you allow yourself to feel joy when he wasn’t there to share it?

It was like trying to run from a shadow that moved with you, always there, no matter how fast you tried to go.

Every time you thought about him, about how he had hurt you and how you were struggling to move on, it felt like stabbing at an old wound, hoping it would heal faster if you just made it worse. The reality was that you missed him in ways you weren’t ready to admit.

Running into him was inevitable. Despite your best efforts to avoid the places he might be, your college was too small, too intertwined with memories of him.

The first time you saw him after the ultimatum was at a party you had reluctantly agreed to attend. You spotted him across the room, laughing with his friends, looking just as carefree as ever. Your heart twisted painfully in your chest, and for a moment, you felt stuck to the ground. But then he looked up, his eyes meeting yours, and the smile slipped from his face.

It was a small moment, one that no one else seemed to notice, but it felt like the all the air in your lungs had been sucked out. You forced yourself to look away, to focus on the conversation happening around you, but it was impossible to ignore the feeling of his eyes on you.

The second time was worse.

You were at the grocery store, just trying to get through your day when you turned a corner and nearly collided with him. The shock of seeing him so close, so unexpectedly, made you want to disappear on the spot.

You both mumbled awkward apologies, neither of you really saying anything of substance, just trying to avoid the awkwardness. But then he asked how you were.

“I’m fine,” you replied, too quickly, too sharply. The lie tasted bitter on your tongue.

He nodded, and for a moment, it looked like he wanted to say more, to reach out and touch you, but he didn’t. You both stood there, trapped in a painful silence, before you finally made an excuse and walked away, leaving him standing there in the aisle.

After that, the encounters became more frequent. You saw him at the beach, in coffee shops, passing by on the street. Each time, it was the same—an awkward exchange, a few forced pleasantries, and then a quick retreat. It was like the universe was conspiring against you, refusing to give you the space you so desperately needed.

And each time, it hurt just a little bit more. Seeing him in these mundane, everyday moments, like nothing had changed, made it harder to keep up the distance you’d built. It reminded you of all the times when being around him had felt natural, easy, like he was just supposed to be there.

But the worst part was the way he looked at you. Jessica had told you before. He’d never looked at any girl like that. And you stupidly held onto that tiny hope even if you shouldn’t. 

You’d been trying to keep it together all night, but the sight of Jessica and Tyler laughing together, so effortlessly in love, was making you bleed inside. The drinks kept coming, one after another, until the room started to blur around you. You didn’t even notice how much you were drinking—only that it was easier to keep swallowing than to think about Rafe. 

But the alcohol wasn’t enough to quiet your thoughts.

Instead, it seemed to amplify them, making everything feel sharper, more painful. Jessica and Tyler’s whispered words of affection, the way his hand rested on her thigh, the way she looked at him with pure adoration—You couldn’t stop thinking about how that should have been you and Rafe.  

By the time you realized you were too far gone, it was late. You stumbled as you stood up, the room spinning wildly around you. Someone—Jessica, maybe—asked if you were okay, but their voice was muffled, distant. You tried to nod, to say something reassuring, but your legs buckled beneath you, sending you crashing back into your chair.

"Whoa, easy there," Jessica’s voice was sharper now, filled with concern. She crouched down in front of you, her hands steadying you. “You’re not okay. We need to get you out of here.”

You tried to shake your head, to insist that you were fine, but the words wouldn’t come. The room was tilting, spinning, and you couldn’t focus on anything. Your vision was blurry, your limbs heavy, and you realized, with a sinking feeling, that you were too drunk to take care of yourself. You couldn’t even stand up, let alone make it home.

Panic started to set in. This wasn’t supposed to happen. You weren’t supposed to lose control like this. You weren’t supposed to need help.

“Jess… I’m fine…” The words slurred out of your mouth, but even you didn’t believe them.

“No, you’re not.” Jessica’s voice was firm now, almost authoritative. She glanced around, clearly trying to figure out what to do. The other girls were watching, their laughter fading into worried murmurs, “Baby, can you go and get her some water and sugar, please?”

She gently guided you to lean back, her hand on your shoulder to steady you. You tried to focus, tried to push through the fog in your mind, but everything was slipping away, your thoughts swirling together in a jumbled mess.

“Hey, stay with me, okay?” Her voice was softer now, almost pleading. She wasn’t just a concerned friend at this moment; she was scared. You’d never seen her like this before. 

“I—” You started, but the words tangled in your throat. You wanted to tell her that you were sorry, that you didn’t mean to ruin the night, that you just wanted to stop thinking about him for a couple of hours, but all that came out was a garbled sound that barely resembled a word.

“Shh, it’s okay,” she soothed, her thumb brushing lightly against your arm. “We’ll get you out of here. It’s gonna be okay.”

Tyler returned with the water and sugar, and Jessica took the glass, trying to get you to drink. The water felt cool against your lips, but swallowing was harder than it should’ve been. You could feel yourself teetering on the edge of consciousness.

“Come on, just a little more,” Jessica urged. You managed a few more sips before the glass slipped from your grasp, water sloshing onto your lap.

“Jess, I—” You tried again, but before you could finish, you heard another voice, one that sent a jolt through your foggy mind.

He was there, right in front of you, and you knew it was him without needing to open your eyes.

“Jesus Christ,” you heard him mutter. He crouched down, gently lifting your chin so you were forced to meet his eyes. “What the hell happened?”

“She had too much to drink,” Jessica explained quickly, her tone defensive, as if she expected him to start blaming her. “We were just about to get her out of here.”

You tried to smile, to play it off like it was no big deal, but all that came out was a shaky breath. “Too much… too much, Rafe…”

“I can see that,” he said, his tone softening as he brushed a strand of hair from your face. He turned to Jessica, his voice all business now. 

You didn’t know how long he had been standing there. Was your brain torturing you? Making you believe he was there?

His jaw tightened, but he didn’t argue. Instead, he knelt down beside you, his hands grabbing your trembling ones. “Hey,” he said, his voice softer now, as if he was afraid you might break into pieces if he spoke too loudly. “I’m gonna get you home, okay?”

You wanted to say no, to tell him that you didn’t need him, but the words wouldn’t come. Instead, you just nodded, too tired and too dizzy to fight it.

He exchanged a look with Jessica and she sighed, her worry morphing into something closer to relief. “I’ll help you get her to the car.”

Your legs were useless, and you sagged heavily against his chest. He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up in his arms like you weighed nothing, cradling you against him. His scent surrounded you, familiar and comforting, and despite everything, you found yourself leaning into him, letting your head rest against his shoulder.

“I’ve got you,” he murmured, his breath warm against your temple. “I’m gonna get you out of here, okay?”

You nodded weakly, too exhausted to argue. Your eyes fluttered shut as he carried you out, the sounds of the party fading away behind you.

The ride to your dorm was a blur. 

You were vaguely aware of Rafe’s arm around you, of Jessica sitting on your other side, rubbing your back in small circles. The motion of the car made your stomach churn, and you had to close your eyes to keep from getting sick. Uber or not, you weren’t about to ruin someone else’s car. 

When you finally arrived, he practically carried you inside while Jess fumbled with your keys before pushing the door open.

He led you to your bed, easing you down onto the mattress.

“I’ll stay with her,” he muttered, his voice leaving no room for argument. Jessica hesitated, looking between the two of you, before nodding slowly.

“Call me if you need anything,” she said to Rafe, squeezing his arm before she left.

You were barely aware of her leaving, still too drunk to process much of anything. He knelt down beside your bed, brushing a stray hair from your face. 

“You’re gonna be okay,” he murmured, his voice a soothing lullaby.

You wanted to say something, to tell him that you didn’t need him, that you were fine on your own.

You felt your bottom lip tremble. 

He noticed the change immediately, his blue eyes softening as he continued to gently brush the hair from your face. “Hey, it’s okay,” he whispered, his thumb lightly tracing the curve of your jaw. “Just breathe.”

But that only made it worse. You could feel the tears welling up as you realized just how much you’d missed this—missed him. The safety of his presence, the way he always seemed to know what you needed before you did.

Your stomach churned, the nausea that had been building since you first sat in the car finally reaching a breaking point.

“Rafe,” you mumbled, your voice weak and shaky, “I think I’m gonna—”

He reacted instantly, his arms tightening around you as he quickly looked the room. “Okay, okay, just breathe,” he said, “You’re gonn be fine.”

But breathing was the last thing on your mind as the room started spinning faster. You tried to push away from him, your hand gripping his shirt as you fought to keep it down.

“Rafe, I need to throw up,” you managed to gasp, panic rising in your chest.

He didn’t hesitate, scooping you up from the bed and hurrying toward the bathroom. You barely registered the fact he was touching you again after so long, your mind solely focused on the nausea.

He got you to the bathroom just in time, guiding you to the toilet as you collapsed in front of it. He held your hair back with one hand, the other rubbing soothing circles on your back as you retched, the sound of it echoing harshly in the small space.

“It’s okay, I’m right here,” he murmured, grounding you as you emptied your stomach. You could feel the heat of his hand on your back, the gentle way he kept your hair out of the way.

When it was over, you slumped against the cool porcelain, too exhausted to care about anything other than the relief of having the nausea finally subside. Rafe handed you a damp washcloth, and you pressed it against your face, the coolness soothing against your overheated skin.

“Better?” he asked softly, crouching down beside you. 

You nodded weakly, unable to meet his eyes. “Yeah,” you whispered, your voice hoarse. “Thanks.”

He didn’t say anything, just stayed close, while you avoided his gaze entirely. The room was quiet now, the only sound the slow, steady rhythm of your breathing as you tried to regain some control.

“I’m sorry.”

You felt embarrassed, and vulnerable in a way you hadn’t expected, and you hated every second of it.

“Stop apologizing,” Rafe said gently, his hand still resting on your back. 

“Can you… can you stay over?” 

You didn’t want to be alone, not tonight, not with the way your heart was aching.

Rafe’s eyes softened, the way they did only for you, and for a moment, you thought he might agree, that he might stay and help you forget, even just for a little while. 

But then he shook his head, his expression pained.

“I can’t,” he said, his voice strained, like it hurt him to say it. “You know I can’t, sweets.”

You tried to hold it together, but it was no use. Before you could stop yourself, you were crying—quiet, heartbreaking sobs that you couldn’t control.

“I’m sorry,” he whispered as he reached out, brushing the tears from your cheeks, but it only made you cry harder. “I’m so sorry.”

You couldn’t even respond, the words tangled up in your throat. It wasn’t just that he wouldn’t stay; it was everything—the confusion, the heartbreak, the way you felt like you were losing him all over again, even though he was right there in front of you.

“Please don’t cry,” Rafe pleaded, his voice breaking. He pulled you into his arms, holding you tightly against him. “I hate seeing you like this.”

You buried your face in his chest, the sobs shaking your entire body. The warmth of his touch, the familiar scent of him—it was too much, too close to everything you’d been trying to avoid. But you couldn’t pull away. You didn’t want to.

“I just… I just miss you,” you choked out, the words spilling from you in a broken whisper. “I miss you so much, Rafe.”

“I know,” he murmured, his voice cracking. “I miss you too.”

You clung to him, your fingers gripping his shirt like it was the only thing keeping him from disappearing. The tears wouldn’t stop, and neither would the ache in your chest, the one that had been there ever since you’d forced yourself to let him go.

“I wish things were different,” his usually bright eyes were dimmed, his brows drew together as if he was in pain. He looked at you like he was memorizing every detail, like he was afraid this might be the last time, “I keep hurting you.”

His hands trembled slightly as he pulled back just enough to look at you, his touch gentle as his fingers cradled your face. His thumbs brushed away the tears again, but they kept coming, fresh and spilling over. His lips parted as if he wanted to say something, but all that came out was a ragged breath.

“Please don’t hate me more for this,” he whispered, his voice rough, barely holding back. His eyes searched yours, desperate for reassurance, for something to cling to in this moment that felt like it was tearing you both apart.

“I could never hate you,” you whispered back, the words catching in your throat as the tears continued to fall. It hurt to say it, to admit it out loud.

He left that night.

You had almost convinced yourself that it was better this way, that moving on, that he did you a favor that night by leaving, that keeping him out of your life was the only solution. 

Staying away from you was killing him. 

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Rafe spent his days trying to distract himself, throwing himself into his studies for the first time in his life, into parties, into anything that would take his mind off you. 

But nothing worked. Every time he saw something that reminded him of you, it was like a punch to the gut—a song you liked, a place you used to go together, even the smell of the ocean would bring memories crashing back. He missed you so much it hurt.

And when he saw you, it was even worse. The first time he ran into you after the break, it felt like the world had stopped spinning. He was at a party, trying to forget, trying to lose himself in the noise and the crowd, when he saw you across the room. For a moment, he thought he was imagining it, that his mind was playing tricks on him. But then your eyes met his, and his heart almost stopped.

You were as beautiful as ever, maybe even more so, but there was something different about you—something guarded, distant. But before he could even think about crossing the room to talk to you, you looked away, your expression closing off, leaving him standing there like an idiot, staring after you. 

He’d told you he’d wait for you and he intended on keeping that promise. He couldn’t stop imagining what it would be like to have you back, to hold you, to tell you how much he loved you, how sorry he was. He’d never felt this way about anyone before, never been this wrecked over a girl, but you weren’t just any girl. 

Rafe had never been good at groveling, at admitting he was wrong, but for you, he’d do anything. He’d get on his knees and beg if that’s what it took. He didn’t care about his pride anymore, not when it meant losing you. He was willing to do whatever it took to make things right, to prove to you that he was serious, that he loved you more than he ever thought possible.

But every time he saw you, he felt that hope slipping further away. The look in your eyes, the way you avoided him, it all felt like a final nail in the coffin. And yet, he couldn’t let go, couldn’t stop himself from yearning for you, from wanting you back in his life. He was going out of his mind, torn between respecting your wishes and fighting for you with everything he had.

Rafe knew he had to do something different, something that would show you just how much he had changed. The problem was, he didn't know what that was. He needed to find a way to prove to you that he was serious, that he was willing to put in the work to make things right.

So he started small.

He stopped going to parties, and stopped trying to drown out his feelings in distractions. Instead, he focused on becoming the person he thought you deserved—the person he knew he could be if he just tried. He started paying more attention in class, showing up on time, and actually studying. He even started volunteering, something he’d never done before, just to keep his mind occupied with something productive, something that wasn’t about him for once.

But the real change came when he began working on himself. He started seeing a therapist, something he’d always scoffed at before. He had a lot of baggage, a lot of unresolved issues that had driven him to hurt you in the first place, and he knew he needed to work through them if he ever wanted to be good enough for you.

It wasn’t easy. Therapy forced him to confront things he’d buried deep, things he’d avoided dealing with for years. Family trauma and all. But he stuck with it, because he knew it was the only way to get better, to be the kind of man you could trust again.

Slowly, he started to see changes in himself. He was more patient, more understanding, and more aware of how his actions affected others. He didn’t expect you to notice any of it—he was doing it for himself as much as for you—but he hoped that maybe, just maybe, you’d see that he was trying.

And then he had to pick you up that night.

He had never seen you drunk before, you’d always preferred your fruity punch over any other alcoholic drink. He’d always known you as strong, independent, someone who could hold your own. Seeing you like that—broken, hurting—made something in him snap. Was this his fault? Had he done this to you? 

He knew he couldn’t stay that night. As much as it killed him to leave, he understood that this was part of growing too—the part where he learned to respect your boundaries, to give you space even when all he wanted was to hold you and never let go. You’d hate yourself the next day. He was doing you both a favor. 

The next morning, Rafe didn’t text or call. He wanted to give you time, to process everything without the pressure of him hovering. Instead, he threw himself back into his routine, keeping himself busy but always with you at the back of his mind. He wondered if you remembered anything from the night before—how close he’d come to breaking down when you asked him to stay, how it had taken every ounce of self-control to walk away from you again.

Days passed, and he didn’t hear from you. It felt like a new kind of torture, but he stayed strong, if this was part of the process then so be it, he needed to be patient. 

He didn’t want to push you, didn’t want to make you feel like you owed him anything. But he couldn’t stop hoping that maybe, just maybe, you were thinking about him too.

So when the call came that you were in the hospital, his heart nearly fell through his ass. He didn’t think, didn’t hesitate—he just went.

The thought of you being hurt, of something happening to you, was enough to make him speed over the legal limit. He needed to see you, to make sure you were okay, even if it was the last thing he did.

When he got there, his heart clenched tightly in his chest as he pushed through the doors of the hospital. He hated hospitals, hated everything about them—the smell, the sterile white walls. But none of that mattered now. All he could think about was you.

The nurse at the front desk directed him to your room, and he practically sprinted down the hallway, his mind racing with a thousand worst-case scenarios. He’d been too fucking anxious to ask if you were okay, as soon as your name and the word hospital registered, he was rushing over. When he finally reached your door, he paused, his hand hovering over the doorknob. What if you didn’t want to see him? What if you told him to leave?

But then he heard your pretty voice, soft and familiar. He pushed open the door and there you were, sitting up in the hospital bed with a sprained ankle, looking more frustrated than hurt. He breathed out in relief, so intensely it made his knees weak.

“Rafe?” you blurted out, your eyes widening in surprise as you saw him standing there. “What are you doing here?”

He took a step closer, “They called me. I’m still your emergency contact.”

“Oh,” you muttered, looking down at your hands. “I didn’t realize.”

He took a deep breath, trying to steady himself. “Are you okay?”

You nodded, but he could see the tension in your shoulders, the way you were trying to hold it together. “It’s just a sprained ankle. Nothing serious. Did a little too much during practice."

Rafe nodded, but he didn’t move, didn’t say anything. He couldn’t. The sight of you in that hospital bed, even for something as minor as a sprained ankle killed him. 

“Hey,” you said softly, your voice pulling him out of his thoughts. “You don’t have to stay. I’m fine. Really.”

But he couldn’t leave. Not now, not when you were right in front of him, looking so small and vulnerable. He shook his head, his voice coming out rougher than before, “I’m not leaving.”

You blinked up at him, “But you don’t have to—”

“I’m not leaving,” he repeated, his voice firm. “I know you can handle yourself, but I’m staying.”

Surprisingly, you didn’t kick him out.  “Okay.”

He pulled up a chair beside your bed, settling in like he had no intention of going anywhere. The room was quiet, the only sound the faint beeping of the machines and the murmur of voices from the hallway outside. For a moment, neither of you said anything.  It was strange, being this close yet so far away from you. He glanced at you from the corner of his eye, taking in the way yours had softened, the way the lines of worry on your face were starting to smooth out. You looked tired like you’d been lacking sleep. He wished he could help, even if just for a little while.

“You know,” he said quietly, breaking the silence, “I used to think I was pretty good at taking care of myself. But then I met you, and I realized I’d never really let anyone take care of me before. Not like you did.”

“Rafe—”

“No, let me finish,” he interrupted gently, “I’m still here. I’ll always be here, even if all I can do is sit in a hospital room with you and make sure you’re okay.”

You looked down at your hands, a small, sad smile tugging at the corners of your lips.

“I missed you,” you whispered, the words so quiet he almost didn’t hear them.

His breath caught in his throat, his heart squeezing painfully at the admission. “I missed you too,” he replied, his voice thick with emotion.

“Thank you for that night.”

He shifted slightly in his chair, leaning a little closer, careful not to overwhelm you but needing to be nearer all the same.

“I didn’t do anything special,” he murmured, though his mind replayed the events of that night. The helplessness he’d felt seeing you in that state, knowing there was little he could do to make it better. He hadn’t been sure then if you’d even wanted him there, but he’d helped you anyway. He couldn’t leave you, not when you needed someone—when you needed him.

“You were there,” a tear slipped down your cheek, and he instinctively reached out, his thumb gently wiping it away. The touch was soft, almost reverent, and it made your breath get stuck in your throat.  “That’s more than enough.”

You leaned into his touch for a moment, savoring the comfort it brought, even though it hurt to let yourself feel it, “Just glad you’re safe.”

“Why did you come?”

“Because I love you,” he admitted, tired of carrying the truth inside him, “I know I screwed up—God, I know that. But I’ve spent every day since trying to be better, trying to be the kind of man you deserve. And I know I have a long way to go, but I’m not giving up. Not on you. Not unless you ask me to.”

“You love me?”

Your voice sounded so meek, so unsure it made him want to punch himself in the face. This was entirely his doing. 

He nodded, his eyes never leaving yours. He looked nervous, and vulnerable, “Yeah,” he said, “I do. I’m in love with you, I just—” He hesitated, searching for the right words. “I didn’t know how to say it, or maybe I was too scared to. Didn’t want to make you think I was saying it to save my ass, y’know?”

You’d always wondered what it would be like to hear those words from him, to have him admit that he cared for you in the same way you cared for him. 

“I didn’t want to push you,” he continued, fingers intertwined, “But I couldn’t keep it in anymore. I couldn’t let you think that I didn’t care, that I didn’t want this, want you.”

You blinked, trying to process everything he was saying. This was the Rafe you’d always hoped for—the one who was honest and unafraid to show his emotions. But it was also the Rafe who had hurt you, who had made mistakes that left scars you weren’t sure had fully healed.

“Rafe, I—” you started, but the words caught in your throat.

“You don’t have to say it, sweets. It’s okay.”

“I’m scared,” you admitted, your voice shaking. “I’m scared of getting hurt again, of going back to that place where everything fell apart.”

He had changed—you could see it in the way he carried himself, in the way he spoke to you. He wasn’t the same Rafe who had hurt you.

"I’m not asking you to trust me right away," he continued, though there was a hint of desperation in it. "I know I need to earn that. But please, give me a chance to prove it. I don’t want to lose you again."

"You can’t wait for me forever.”

“I’d wait for you a lifetime. I told you,” His jaw clenched, the muscles in his neck tensing when he spoke, as if he was trying not to cry, “If you ever want me, I’m yours.”

His hands, usually so restless, were still now, resting on his knees as he leaned slightly forward in his chair. You saw the man he was trying to be—the man he wanted to be for you. He wasn’t perfect, not by a long shot, but he was trying. And that had to count for something.

“Even if I made you wait until we’re eighty and grey?”

Rafe let out a breathless laugh, the sound strained but genuine, “Even then,” he whispered, his voice barely above a breath. “You’re it for me.”

It scared you how much you wanted to believe him, how much you wanted to pull him into your arms and tell him that he was it for you too. He reached out, his hand hovering near yours, waiting for you to close the distance. You hesitated for only a moment before your fingers intertwined with his.  It felt right, like coming home after being lost for so long.

He squeezed your hand gently, his eyes searching yours for any sign of what you were thinking, feeling. He looked like he was holding his breath.

“I love you too.”

It was still scary, still uncertain, but you realized that nothing worth having ever came easy. And Rafe, with all his flaws and all his efforts to be better, was worth it.

He exhaled, his shoulders sagging in relief, “I don’t deserve you,” he said whispered, lips pressed against your fingers, “But I’m going to spend every day trying to. I swear, I’ll never stop trying.”

You closed your eyes, “You’re gonna make me cry.”

Rafe’s grip on your hand tightened, as if he could physically hold you together through sheer will alone. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to—” he started, his voice panicked, but you shook your head, cutting him off.

“No, it’s okay,” you whispered, opening your eyes to meet his. “I just… it’s been a long time since I let myself feel this way.”

He nodded, his thumb gently brushing against the back of your hand in slow, soothing circles. “You don’t have to hold back with me. Not anymore. Whatever you’re feeling, it’s okay.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over, running down your cheeks. Rafe was there instantly, his other hand reaching up to gently cup your face, his thumb brushing away the tears with a tenderness that made your heart hurt.

“I’m so sorry,” his voice cracked, “For everything I put you through.”

You leaned into his touch, the warmth of his hand grounding you, giving you the strength to keep going. “I was so miserable Rafe,” you admitted, your voice trembling. “Scared that if I let you back in, I’d get hurt again. Scared that I’d lose you all over again.”

“I know,” he said, his forehead resting against yours, his breath mingling with yours in the small space between you. “And I promise you, I’m not going anywhere this time. I’m here, and I’m not going to let you down.”

“I want to try.”

Rafe’s breath hitched, and he pulled back slightly to look at you, his eyes searching yours as if he couldn’t  believe what he was hearing. “You do?”

You nodded, a small, tentative smile forming on your lips. “I do. But we need to take it slow, okay? I need time.”

“Of course,” he said quickly, his eyes bright with hope. “We’ll go as slow as you need. I don’t fucking care sweets, I’m not leaving.”

You weren’t just giving him another chance—you were giving yourself one too. A chance to heal, to forgive, and to find your way back to each other.

Rafe pressed a gentle kiss to your forehead, lingering for a moment as if sealing the promise between you. “We’ve got this,” he murmured against your skin. “It’s you and me, okay?”

“You and me.”

Rafe’s eyes softened, and a genuine smile tugged at his lips, one that reached his eyes and made them crinkle at the corners. It was a smile you hadn’t seen in a long time, and seeing it made you want to bawl all over again. His hand cradled your cheek, his fingers tracing delicate circles on your jaw as his eyes locked onto yours, silently asking for permission, for forgiveness, for a chance to be close to you again. And when his lips finally brushed against yours, whatever pain you were feeling on your ankle disappeared. 

The kiss was soft, tentative at first, like he was afraid you might pull away, afraid to push too far too soon. But the moment your lips pressed back against his, that tentative touch deepened. Rafe’s hand slid to the back of your neck, pulling you closer as if he couldn’t stand to be apart from you even for a second. You could feel the desperation in the way his lips moved against yours, the way his breath hitched when you parted your lips to let him in.

Just as you were about to lose yourself in him, the door to your room swung open with a creak. You both froze, lips still touching, as someone cleared their throat.

You pulled away from each other reluctantly, your cheeks flushed, your breath coming in short, ragged gasps. Your eyes met Rafe’s and you saw the same blush of color on his face, the same love-sick expression that you were sure mirrored your own.

The doctor stood in the doorway, a clipboard in hand, a bemused smile tugging at the corners of her lips. “Well, I see you’re feeling better.”

Rafe cleared his throat, stepping back slightly, his hand still lingering on your arm as if he couldn’t bring himself to let go just yet. “Uh, yeah, she’s doing great,” he mumbled.

“You must be the boyfriend.”

You couldn’t help the grin that took over, “Yeah. He is.”

[itsjusthockey]

Hughes Your Daddy pt.2 - Jack Hugges

wow.

It took longer than expected, but you should all be thankful because I was going to quit this blog, but I didn't give up

tell me how proud you are and how much you love it. pls & thx

Anyway, enjoy ❤️

w.c: 2,754 (credit to gif maker) (don't steal my work)

The crisp 100-dollar bill you’ve just won sits nicely tucked in your back pocket as Jack breaks the world record for sprinting and dodging almost a million cameras to get to you. As soon as he crashes into your waiting arms, he lifts you into the air and lets out a breathy laugh in your ear that’s only reserved when you’re with him. It’s light, happy, and maybe even a little giddy.

After a moment of you being suspended in the air, he gently sets you down, giving you one last tight squeeze, then backs up to see your face.

“Did I embarrass you?”

You give him a slight smirk and shrug your shoulders. “You did okay.”

He playfully rolls his eyes, shaking his head at you as he moves on to hug his waiting parents. With his attention away from you, you survey the space and catch sight of the other Hughes brothers walking toward the group.

Luke is doing his little half smile and has a slight pep in his step that comes with a nice win, and Quinn looks about unbothered with everything as usual. You make a mental note of that, knowing that your evil boyfriend is going to push his buttons later to get any sort of reaction to his loss.

“Nice game, Lukey,” you pull him into a hug as he gets within distance, patting his arm as you pull away. “You’re kinda being a stud out there.”

Luke blushes a shade darker at your comment, and you can’t help but love knowing you can still get a rise out of him. Luke moves on, too, and you’re left facing the only Hughes brother who didn’t have a win tonight.

“Tough loss cap.” You hug Quinn tightly before glancing back at your boyfriend and leaning in slightly to whisper in his ear. “But we all know you’re still the best.”

Quinn gives you a small laugh, and you can see his head is held a little higher as you pull him to join the circle with the rest of the family. As soon as you do, Jack opens his smart mouth.

“Family circles are for winners only.”

As soon as the words leave his lips, Ellen hisses his name, and you pinch the back of his arm as hard as you can.

“Ow,” he yelps at you, rubbing his arm. “What was that for?”

You give him a look that tells him exactly what that was for, to which he rolls his eyes at you.

“He knows it’s in good fun,” Jack says. “Right Q?”

This time, Quinn rolls his eyes but nonetheless nods his head.

The group chats about the game for a couple of minutes before unanimously deciding that family dinner is a must, and then you’ll head back to Quinn’s place for one last night altogether. As soon as the decision is made, you beeline to follow when Jack holds you back for a second.

“Dinner, just you and me, okay?” He all but pleads, pulling you toward him.

You glance back at his family walking away, seemingly unaware you two fell behind.

“They want to see you too, J.”

He grabs your hands and pulls even closer, leaving no room for any personal space. “They don’t care that much, and I haven’t had a second alone with you.”

His point is fair, but you also are torn by the fact that it isn’t very often that all three brothers are together.

“C’mon (Y/N). The winner should get a reward dinner right?”

You raise your eyebrow at him. “Then shouldn’t we invite Luke?”

He snorts at your comment and shakes his head.

“Please, I did the heavy lifting.”

Twenty minutes later, you’re at a nice restaurant in downtown Vancouver. It’s big yet cozy and has low lighting, making it slightly romantic. You’re impressed with Jack's pick, but you also know deep in your heart he probably asked Quinn for his recommendations.

Your reserved table is in a cozy little corner, and a bottle of wine is sitting out, ready to be poured. You’re beyond happy with the setup, but you can’t help but feel a little underdressed as you both walk toward your seats. Jack has his game-day suit, but you’re still clad in a red and black jersey with the number eighty-six plastered across the back.

“This is wonderful, J, but you couldn’t warn me to wear something a little nicer.”

He pulls out the chair for you before you sit down, and as he crosses to the seat directly opposite you, he laughs.

“I have no idea what you’re talking about.” He smirks. “This is my favorite outfit for you to be in.”

You roll your eyes as far back as possible but let it go. You are proud to be his girlfriend, and you allow him to have this little ego boost for one evening.

You spend the next hour talking about everything and nothing, and when the bill comes, Jack hands over his card, and you two pack up the leftovers you have, knowing Luke will destroy them once you get back to the house.

Once the card returns, you head out into the chill Vancouver night with Jack's arms wrapped around your waist. The walk to the car is short and filled with your usual light banter. As soon as you're within the view of the car, you go to swat away Jack's arm when he gets a little too handsy, but not before your boyfriend reaches into your back pocket and pulls out the hundred dollar bill that was safely hidden.

He eyes the bill with curiosity and darts his eyes back and forth between you and the bill for a few seconds.

“What this?”

“Cash?” You deadpan, moving to snatch the bill away, but he holds it out of your grip.

“You never carry cash.” He narrows his eyes slightly, then a dawning look crosses his face.

“This is the fourth hundred I’ve found in your pocket after a game with my brothers.”

You give him a surprised look but shake your head no.

“It’s just a coincidence, Jack.”

He passes you back the bill, but let’s put a low whistle. “Twice is a coincidence. Four times is a pattern.”

Before you can open the passenger door to the car, Jack blocks his body with it, tilting his head to the side and eyeing you up and down.

“You wanna know how I think you’re getting the money?”

You let out a puff of air, wishing he’d drop it, but you also know your boyfriend, and he will never let it go.

“Sure.” You take a step closer to him. “Let’s hear your theory.”

He smirks again and leans toward you as if he’s going to tell you a secret.

“I think you’re betting with my dad.”

You freeze when he speaks and must admit he’s smarter than he looks. You want to deny the accusation, but you simply shrug your shoulders and lean away from him.

“An excellent theory, J, but alas, it’s none of your business.”

You meet his stare, lean into him to kiss him on the cheek, and then body-check him from the side, and he stumbles just enough to allow you to climb into the passenger seat.

He heads to the driver a second later, and when he climbs in, the conversation is merely forgotten. You go back into talking about everything you’ve missed in each other's lives until you pull into the familiar driveway.

The house is decently quiet when you walk in, and when you round into the dining room, you see Luke and Quinn on opposite sides of the table, a checkerboard between them. Luke is stressed, chewing slightly on his hand, and across from him, Quinn sits with a smug smile and a stack of chips next to him.

“C'mon Lu, you’re better than this.” You say, gently patting his shoulder as you bring the leftovers to the fridge.

He huffs and glares at Quinn. “I am better, and I think he’s cheating somehow.”

Jack pipes up from behind you. “How can you cheat at checkers?”

Luke huffs again and mutters a quiet “he’s finding a way” under his breath, returning his attention to the board.

Jack crosses the room and sits down next to Luke, saying he’s playing the next round to defeat Quinn for the second time that night, and as soon as he takes his attention off you, you beeline to the living room in hopes of finding your gambling partner.

You find Jim and Ellen in the living room, and when you enter, they’re beyond excited to see you. You sit on the opposite chair and lean over to them both, whispering so the boy in the other room won’t hear you.

“Jack is onto us.”

Jim gives you a confused look.

“He knows about the betting.”

Ellen lets a giant laugh bubble past her lips, and soon enough, you’re all laughing about the situation.

“Out of all of them to figure it out,” Jim says, shaking his head.

You smile at them both, telling them how the secret came out, and in the end, they shrug it off.

“Just because he knows doesn’t mean we should stop. If anything, maybe it will be more of an incentive.”

You smile ear to ear and relax back into the chair, knowing that the little game won’t end, even if the boys know about it. You settle back into casual conversation for a while before you hear some commotion from the dining room, and Ellen gives you a knowing look.

You walk swiftly back into the dining where the chaos is, and when you enter, you see Quinn sitting calmly with his arms crossed and Jack standing in front of him, surrounded by all the tiny checker pieces with the board flipped upside down.

You can’t stifle your laughter, and you high-five Quinn across the table as Jack turns to you with a cold stare.

“You two can laugh all you want. I still won the actual game tonight.”

Quinn shrugs his shoulders at Jack. “Well, I just won the game that clearly matters more. So who’s the real winner tonight.”

Quinn throws you a wink as he begins cleaning up the pieces on the floor, and Jack follows suit, angrily putting them into the little pouch they came in.

You watch them clean up the game and go to stand by Luke, who’s eating your leftovers and quietly watching the scene unfold in front of him.

“Did you just stand here the whole time?” You ask.

He takes another large bite. “I enjoyed the show.”

You knock your shoulder against him, and a few minutes later, all the games are put away, and you all decide to join the parents in the living room. There, you watch a few episodes of The Office under Jack's hold, and soon enough, you find yourself dozing off in the comfortable position and extra body heat.

You're not sure how long you're asleep until you wake up hearing some shuffling around you. You open your eyes and see that Ellen and Jim have already left, and Luke and Quinn are moving around, getting ready also to leave the shared space. Quinn folds up a blanket and places it on the couch when you quietly whisper at him.

“Is he asleep?” You ask, referring to the boy behind you who’s gripped has softened a bit and whose breath has gone steady.

Quinn nods and whispers back a goodnight, leaving you and Jack alone in the living room. You’re perfectly content to stay on the coach, but that doesn’t last until you feel Jack move behind you.

“What time is it?” He mutters.

You look around for your phone, and when you click on the screen, it reads about half an hour before midnight. You show him the screen, and he hums.

“Wanna go to bed?”

You nod, slinging your legs to the side and getting up. Your muscles are stiff, and you stretch them out as Jack follows close behind you to the shared bedroom you've been occupying this weekend.

As you are busy getting ready for bed, Jack joins you in your domestic bliss, washing your face together and brushing your teeth. You can’t help but smile into the toothpaste because every time you go to stare at him, he’s already looking at you, and a blush creeps into his cheeks when he gets caught.

You finish up, climbing into your pajamas, and when you walk back into the room, Jack is already under the covers, looking at his phone. As soon as he notices you, he tosses the device away and lifts the sheets, patting the space beside him.

You crawl in, and within a moment, his arms wrap securely around you, and you’re pulled to his chest. All the stress of finals, flying back and forth, and life in general melt away, and for the first time in a long while, you know you’ll get the best sleep tonight.

You settle in even deeper into Jack's hold, reading yourself to enter the dreamland until you’re slightly brought back when he gently taps your arm three times, your relationship code to see if you’re still awake.

“Yeah?” You ask, flipping over to face him in the darkness.

“I just have a question.” He whispers

You wait for him to ask, and after a second passes, he does.

“Of course, I’m not mad or anything. You betting with my dad is the funniest thing ever. But one thing is bugging me.”

You gently rub his arm, and he continues.

“How did you win?” His voice is soft. “Did you bet on us winning even though we haven’t been playing the best? Or was it something else? Do you switch teams? Or how do you decide which team you bet on?”

He throws so many questions at you that you silence him with a light kiss pressed to his lips. It effectively shuts him up, and he stays quiet until you answer.

You take a minute to speak on purpose, wanting to make him wait, but you know that his wheels are turning, and he honestly doesn’t know your secret to success, and you know you have to tell him.

It’s never a question when you’re betting with Jim; you always pick with your heart, and you’re rarely wrong, and even when you are, you’re still correct with the outcome, and you wouldn’t change it for the world.

“I never have to decide.” You press another kiss to his lips. “I always bet on you.”

[woso-dreamzzz]

Head in the Clouds II

Barcelona Femení x Teen!Reader

Summary: You remain dazed and confused

You went crashing to the ground, skidding across the wet pitch.

"You feeling okay, champ?"

You groan, clutching at your ribs as you roll onto your back. "Can you tell Bright to please leave me alone? You're friends, right?"

Lucy laughs. "Funny, kid. Real funny. You feeling good, though? Okay to continue?"

You huff and let Lucy pull you up, wiping the rain from your face.

Chelsea had upped their game since that red card, truly, and as one of the younger ones on the pitch, you were baring the brunt of it. It seemed that they had forgotten you were once their academy player just like you did.

Though, to be fair, yours was more of you had genuinely forgotten while this seemed more like revenge on their part.

"Atta-girl," Lucy says, clapping you on the back.

"Hey," Ingrid approaches as well," That looked nasty. How are your ribs?"

"Sore," You answer," But I think I can keep going."

"There's that winning mentality!" Lucy says," Sticking it out until the end."

Ingrid gives Lucy a pointed look. "You know, I think I preferred it when you were more protective over her. She's hurt her ribs, Lucy!"

"I'll be fine."

"See! She'll be fine!"

Ingrid rolls her eyes but moves to take the free kick you've just won.

You go streaking up the pitch after it.

Carter and Charles both run up either side of you just as you release the ball from your foot, sending it towards Hampton.

One of them jostles you off balance and you trip, going careening forward.

It must have been a pretty forceful shove because you gain a lot of air, very quickly.

Quick enough to meet up with the ball you've already released.

You smash the top of your head against it just as you land on the ground.

"Ow..." You say to no one as your ribs flair in pain again as your body meets the pitch.

Over the ringing of your ears, you can't hear the roar of the crowd as your head propels the ball just an inch too far for Hampton to get her glove around.

It slots itself in the net but you're still faceplanted in the dirt to have even noticed.

Someone grabs you, Patri, you find, and shakes you almost too violently.

She's saying something but all you can do is mindlessly stare in confusion at her.

"I taught her that!" Lucy's proud voice cuts through the ringing in your ears. "Did you know? I taught her that."

"Sure, Luce," Comes Keira's dry reply.

"What? I did! Even the landing!"

"I..." You say, rubbing a sore spot on your head. "What happened?"

Patri laughs, jostling you again. "You just scored, idiot!"

"Did I?"

"Yes!" Comes the chorus of voice arounds you and you glance around to see the rest of the team.

"Oh...When did you guys get here?"

"How are your ribs?" It's Paredes now and you frown, pressing on them.

You wince. "I'll live."

Keira sighs. "God, Luce, couldn't you teach her anything else? We don't need another Lucy Bronze running around."

Lucy grins. "I think we do. She's my protégé."

"I don't think Alexia would be happy hearing you say that."

Lucy suddenly turns pale, eyes wide. "Oh, shit. Don't tell her I said that."

They go back and forth while you still stare up at confusion in the screen displaying the 3-0 score to Barcelona.

"Seriously," Paredes says," Your ribs. Are they okay?"

"I can still play on them."

"So they're not okay." She gestures to Jona to sub you off.

"But..."

"We need you for the final," She says to you," Besides, the match is nearly over. They're not catching up to us now."

Bruna comes on in your place and you sit, dazed and confused on the bench.

Jana giggles at your face, poking your cheeks as you try to mull over your goal.

"Are you sure it counts?" You ask.

"Are you saying they should disallow it?"

"No!" You say quickly," But...I don't know."

"Tell you what," Jana giggles," If this football thing doesn't work out for you then professional clown might."

You frown. "Huh?"

She mimics the face you pulled when you found out the ball went in.

Your eyes go wide.

"Oh no."

She grins. "Oh yes. It's been, what, five minutes? I've already seen ten separate Twitter accounts with it as the profile picture."

[dodger-chan]

AO3 is down? Okay, well here's about 900 words of a story I don't think I'll ever finish

Edit: now on AO3

The Alibi

Clearing Eddie Munson’s name went against every instinct Jim had honed in his years as a cop. Munson was bad news. A drug dealer. A born criminal, in and out of Hawkins Police custody since he was a kid.

Admittedly, no small number of those early detentions were more about trying to track down his father than anything Munson had done himself. He’d been an uncooperative shit, though; always insisting he knew nothing while sporting bruises fresh enough to prove his old man hadn’t been gone very long.

If Jim hadn’t known for a fact the kid was completely innocent of the three murder charges. If he hadn’t been told by Henderson, both Sinclair kids, the good Wheeler, and Harrington and his girlfriend that Munson had been instrumental in beating back the monsters beneath Hawkins. If Jane hadn’t looked at him with loving expectation, hadn’t been so sure her old man would make fairness and justice align, well, Jim wasn’t sure what he would have done. It wouldn’t have been this.

This being escorting the Harrington kid to the hospital to sneakily convey the plan to Munson, and then ruin his life.

Ruin Harrington’s life, that is. It might save Munson’s. 

----------

Jim recognized Wayne Munson from all the times he’d come down to the station to claim his nephew. Wayne looked older than Jim remembered him. Eddie, pale with blood loss and handcuffed to the bed, looked younger. He didn’t know the officer standing guard in Munson’s room; a new hire while he’d been in Russia.

“It’s family only,” the officer instructed. Jim frowned at him.

“I'm not here to visit.” Jim wasn’t the chief anymore, but he still knew how to talk so the lower ranks would listen. “I’ve found Munson’s alibi.”

He shoved Harrington forward. The kid reached a hand out towards Munson, looked at the guard and stopped. He stiffened his shoulders and placed his hand on top of Munson’s. Not a bad performance.

“I thought the cops would ask me about our last date on Friday. But they didn’t come around.” Harrington kept his eyes down, but spoke to Munson. “Why didn’t you tell them? Did you think I’d lie about being with you?”

“Maybe? The whole ‘no one can know’ thing seems pretty important to you.” Between the handcuffs and the IV drip, Munson couldn’t really shrug. “You still take girls out. You took a girl to the game that night, even.”

Harrington had said Munson would figure out the plan quickly, that they wouldn’t need to feed him very much information. Jim hadn’t expected he’d not only get the gist of the plan but be able to fish for useful information as well. He was impressed.

“And took her home right after so I could meet you.” Harrington raked a hand through his hair. “You know the girls are just for show. So no one suspects. I don’t… I don’t sleep with them anymore.”

“That’s enough.” The officer looked between the two young men, then at Jim. He obviously wanted to take Harrington out of the room and interrogate him properly, but wasn’t sure he could leave his murder suspect. 

“Munson’s not going anywhere,” Jim pointed out. “I’ll keep an eye on him while you call Chief Powell.”

The officer nodded in deference to Jim’s air of authority. He left, taking Harrington with him to keep the boys from discussing their stories any more.

It clearly hadn’t occurred to him that Jim might help them get their stories straight. Ideally, he’d speak to Munson alone, but presumably the elder Munson cared more about keeping his nephew out of jail than the truth.

“Right, so after your club meeting-” Jim started. Munson interrupted him.

“I drove to Steve’s place. I parked my van in the woods so none of his neighbors would see it. Like I always do.” Munson rolled his eyes. “I got there first; let myself in the back. Steve got there maybe five minutes after me. We had a fight, about Steve taking girls out. Again. I will spare you and Wayne exactly where that led, though I expect the police will request all the details, perverts that they are.”

“You got all that from ‘date last Friday?’” Jim asked. It was almost exactly the story Steve had told him. Not the same words, not the same point of view, but the same events. 

“No, I got it from ‘last date, on Friday,’” Munson corrected. Jim wasn’t sure why the difference mattered. “So our last date, but like it happened on the Friday before Spring Break.”

Jim frowned, confused. Wasn’t Harrington pretending to be dating Munson? He looked over at Wayne, who seemed as lost as he was.

“I thought you broke up with that boy?” Wayne was apparently lost in a very different place than Jim was.

“I did, though, under the circumstances, I may omit that detail. Unless Steve is planning to say I dumped him before I left that morning?”

“He isn’t.” Harrington had asked if the alibi would sound more believable coming from a current or ex-boyfriend. Jim had thought a break-up the day of the murder sounded too convenient. Not that either would have been credible enough to clear Munson’s name if the Feds weren’t around to put their thumb on the scale. Harrington’s story was more to get them to place it on the side of Munson being released rather than blackmailed into a plea agreement.

“Then I guess he and I are officially back together.

[sleeepy-sim]

Is this where your do requests? 😭 I’m not too sure- but I was hoping you could do a Donnie Darko fic? Make it as nasty as you can! But I’m thinking about completely going away from the main plot of the movie and making Donnie a serial killer? Like obsessed with the reader too :)

I love this one!! AHHHHH!! Okay

CW: Creepy Donnie, stalker, kinda innocent reader? could be seen as both innocent and non, he's obsessed, mention of murder, somnophilia, home boy goes down on you, let me know if there is anything else.

Might make into a part two. Also something is going on with my requests, let me fix it guys

Donnie Darko has known you since you two were kids. With growing up together, being neighbors, and somehow always being in the same classes - it was bound for you two to be best friends. 

Though, Donnie seems to know more about you then you know about him. For, you don’t know he sneaks in your room, you don’t know he enjoys watching you, you don’t know he kills little immature boys who think they have a chance.

You think Donnie is your sweet, sarcastic, funny best friend. Which, he is - duh. But as people say, ‘it's not always what meets the eye.’ For he enjoys nothing - unless you touched, breathed around it or liked it.

Donnie Darko’s world revolves around you. He eats, he thinks of you. He watches TV, he thinks of you. He showers, he definitely thinks of you. What does he think of you? Oh, he wrote about it, about how tight your sweet cunt would be. About how sweet you would taste. He’s already gotten a little taste from your sweet little painties he took - that's not enough. 

He also paints you. He’s seen you, don’t be fooled. He’s seen you strip naked, he’s seen you touch yourself. When his therapist asked if he “still thinks about girls a lot?” He couldn’t help but put his hands in his pants, just thinking about you.

He could tell when his obsession with you went deeper than it has ever been. He could feel you in his bones, his blood stream. He would do anything for you. He would has killed for you. If you ask for it, done. If not, just sit back, Donnie will take care of his girl. 

Tonight was an amazing night for Donnie. Tonight, he was killing a little boy who had been taking your attention away from him. All’s fair in the game of love, yes? 

He waited for this Devin, to come out of his house, waiting right outside his door, behind something of course he’s not dumb. Donnie adjusted his mask, licking his lips as he heard this scumbags footsteps. 

As Devin came outside, turning around to lock his door. Donnie pounced, wrapping his arm around his neck, shoving the cloth full of drugs into the guy's face.

. . . 

He came over, knocking on your window, a fake sad expression on his face. He told you ‘Frank wouldn’t leave him alone.’ Of course you being you, felt bad and let him, saying he could stay the night. 

Donnie sighs, a big grin on his face. He had just got done disposing of that littler vermin, but that wasn’t the best part of his night, no. The best part was here he was, laying in your bed, while you wear your night clothes.

He swallowed thickly as you laid your head down on his chest, your arm wrapped around his side. He could smell your hair, your perfume. He smiled down at you, shifting his hips as he tried to relieve the pressure of his aching cock. 

Donnie sighs, a big grin on his face. He had just got done disposing of that littler vermin, but that wasn’t the best part of his night, no. The best part was here he was, laying in your bed, while you wear your night clothes.

He layed in your bed for a while, just watching you as you did your own little things, such as get ready for bed, clean up your area and give him that sweet little smile. After a little bit of watching you he had to get under your covers to cover up his raging boner.

He could see your nipples poking through your top - he could see the roundness of your ass, the jiggle it made everytime you moved - free from your underwear. He wanted to groan as he could almost see the ripples your ass would make as he would pound you from behind.

Finally, after doing your little ‘chores’ you climbed into bed, right next to him. He soaked in your warmness, your smell, he could almost taste you on his tongue - once more. See, with the things of being best friends for so long, you trusted him no matter what.

He says this pill will help you not have any nightmares, already took it. He said it's okay for best friends to kiss on the lips, your swollen pouty lips were enough for him to jack off later. Going back to the pill, you had confined in him about your nightmares. He felt so bad for his little bunny, he just had to help you.

That night after you took it and he went home - which meant he hid outside your window. He crept back in the house, his nerves on fire. His dick harder than a rock as he pulled your covers off you, as if peeling a wrapper of his little present. He groaned before taking a deep breath and opening your legs, your nightgown sliding down your legs and pooling at your hips, your pussy right there for him to take, to ravish. He leaned forward, his tongue slowly creeping out to lick your pussy. It was his first time, he wanted to go slow - but with it being you he wanted you in him, around him and wrapped around him.

He should feel bad, preying on his innocent friend, who thought of nothing of his endeavors. That all went out the window as soon as he saw you.

[heavenlyvision]

Truth or dare

Word count: 10.3k

Pairing: Kung Lao x F!Reader

A/N: I have done it !!! I have completed my Kung Lao fic, I hope it feeds you all well. It has a lot of dialogue but I think it’s fun, enjoy !!! <33

Summary: Living with both Raiden and Kung Lao is a lot of fun but it can be exhausting, especially since Kung Lao likes to play stupid games.

Warnings: 18+ only, lots of dialogue, smut, dirty talk, fingering, cunnilingus, p in v sex, no use of y/n, I think that’s all !!!

Today you have already been to work and done your shift, but that doesn’t mean you’re free from being there, Kung Lao and Raiden love madam Bo’s and you do too but having just finished a shift here and then staying as a customer is worrisome for you. Every time you’re here on your own time you get nervous about being asked to cover for someone or work an extra hour, it’s only happened a handful of times in all your years of working here but still, the fear lingers.

“Hey, you with us?” Kung Lao snaps his fingers in front of your face.

You’ve been staring at him mindlessly, not even taking in anything he was doing or saying, “Yeah, sorry.”

Raiden asks you, “Are you okay?”

“I’m fine, just thinking.” You give him a polite smile.

“Worrying more like,” Kung Lao amends.

“Was not,” was too.

He argues, “You were, had your worried expression on and everything.”

“Whatever,” you huff.

“Leave her alone Kung Lao,” Raiden is always taking your side when it comes to things like this.

Kung Lao rolls his eyes at the pair of you, “Always teaming up on me,” he exaggerates.

“We do not,” your eyebrows pinch at him.

He whines slightly, “You do, always making me do the dishes and chores–”

“–Maybe if you did them when you are supposed to, we would not have to tell you to do them,” Raiden interjects.

“You’re complaining because we ask you to do your fair share at home?” You clarify.

“See?? You’re teaming up on me right now,” he sighs and shakes his head.

“I’m getting sick of you,” your tone is teasing but you keep a straight face.

Kung Lao’s hand moves to his chest in faux hurt at your statement.

“Should we kick him out?” Raiden joins your teasing.

Nodding solemnly, you say, “I think we might have to.”

Kung Lao gasps, “What the hell guys?”

Both you and Raiden are giving each other very sombre looks, pretending to be so sad about the loss of Kung Lao from your household.

“Guys?” Kung Lao’s tone is worried.

You look to him with your brows raised, “Are you gonna do your chores without being asked?”

He looks away in thought, “I mean… maybe?”

You shake your head at him and direct you attention to Raiden, “Lost cause,” you sigh.

“Indeed,” Raiden nods at you in agreeance.

“Okay, I do not like this joke anymore,” Kung Lao says.

Raiden and yourself break and start laughing at him.

“I do not like when you guys do that,” Kung Lao complains in reference to yours and Raiden’s ability to immediately pick up on the others joke and play along completely seriously.

You shrug at him, “I think it’s funny.”

He scowls back at you.

“Lighten up,” Raiden pats his back.

“One of you is paying for lunch,” he’s taking advantage of the situation.  

Rolling your eyes at him you say, “I will pay.”

“I will pay,” Raiden argues with you.

Kung Lao turns to him, “You never offer to pay when it’s just us.”

“Because you eat a lot, plus, she paid last time,” Raiden shakes his head at him.

“I’m fine to pay again, I don’t mind.”

“I mind,” Raiden counters.

“As long as I’m not paying, I do not mind,” Kung Lao jokes.

“We won’t make you pay; you have to keep your money for the new place you’ll be getting after we kick you out,” you jest.

Raiden chuckles at you but Kung Lao makes an unhappy face.

“Don’t pout Kung Lao, I’m just kidding,” you wonder if you took it too far.

Raiden warns, “He’s baiting you, do not feel bad for him.”

“Raiden, I could’ve convinced her to do my chores for me or something, always ruining things for me,” he whinges.

“You would think she’d have learnt by now not to feel bad for you,” Raiden languishes.

“I am right here,” you interrupt.

Living with them has taken years off your lifespan, you think.

Pointing as you say, “The day I do your chores for you is the day I die, Kung Lao.”

He lets out an over-the-top groan, throwing his head back.

“Okay, enough theatrics,” Raiden says, ending the direction of the conversation.

It’s good that he did, because Kung Lao and yourself would sit here all day going back and forth with the other. The both of you seemingly incapable of ending the bit, always bouncing off the other, increasing the drama of the situation until one of you pretends to feel hurt and the other apologises. It’s not a particularly harmful thing for either of you but the never ending back and forth between the two of you harms Raiden, in the way that he gets exhausted just watching the two of you. Quite frankly, it’s worse at home, the two of you at least try to behave out in public, or you do anyways.

You look to Raiden and give him your best begging eyes, “Please don’t kick me out.”

“Stop that!” Kung Lao points at you.

“Stop what?” You ask.

He frowns, “Stop being cute to get your way.”

“Dunno what you’re talking about,” you shrug, feigning innocence.

Raiden rolls his eyes at the both of you, “I think I might move out.”

“You can’t leave me alone with him!” You protest, lowering your voice as you say, “I’d accidentally get him wet after midnight and he’d eat me or something.”

Kung Lao takes in a breath, ready to say something but Raiden stops him, “Do not say whatever it is you are planning to.”

He deflates at Raiden’s words, sighing, “You never let me have any fun.”

“For good reason,” he retorts.

Raiden pays Madam Bo for lunch and you’re all heading home, filling the rest of the day with miscellaneous activities. Mostly, you stay in your room and read, invested in the current romance novel you bought the other day.

In the time that you’re reading the sun sets and the front door closing brings you back to the real world, you decide it might be time that you exit your room and see what’s happened in your absence.

As you enter the living area you only see Raiden, “Where’s Kung Lao?” You ask.

Looking up to you, he replies, “He’s got that date tonight, remember?”

You walk over to him and sit down, “I had forgotten, he met her at Madam Bo’s, didn’t he?”

He nods at you, “Yeah, last week.”

Humming, you say, “A girl who has seen Kung Lao eat and agrees to a date with him is a brave girl indeed.”

Raiden chuckles at your words.

You don’t have any feelings in particular towards Kung Lao going on a date tonight, or any night really. Predominantly because he never really dates them; he goes out and either gets lucky or comes home and complains about how something they did was annoying or weird. Last time, she didn’t like tea and he thought that was a red flag and never saw her again.

“I am bored,” you whinge.

Raiden huffs at you, amused, “What do you want to do?”

“Scrabble?”

“I do not like playing scrabble against you,” he says.

You know why he doesn’t like playing against you, but you ask anyways, “Why not?”

“You take it too seriously,” he shakes his head at you.

“Please,” you pout at him, hands clasped together.

He rolls his head, sighing, “Fine, but only if you try to be normal about it.”

“If you didn’t play stupid words this wouldn’t be an issue,” you retort.

He pinches the bridge of his nose, “You’re already starting.”

“I’m sorry! I’ll behave, promise.” You give him your most innocent smile.

“Okay, go get the board.” He speaks.

“Yes!” You get up to go get the board from your room, briefly you think of how much of a sucker he is.

When you come back, you set it up at the table, the both of you sit across from each other. The beginning of the game goes well, you’re pretty close in score for a while but as you both play against one another, you find it increasingly difficult to be normal. He always plays stupid words but the one he’s just put down makes you want to reach over and strangle him.

Your eye twitches as you say, “’Ax’ is not a valid scrabble word.”

“It is.” is all he says in response.

“No, and if it is, it is wrong because ‘ax’ should have an ‘e’ on the end of it to be a word.” You’re restraining yourself from getting upset about this but there is no way that is a scrabble word.

“Go get the scrabble dictionary if you don’t believe me,” he shrugs at you.

Squinting at him in scrutiny, you get up and go get the book.

Once you’ve sat back down in front of him, you flick through the pages to determine if it’s valid or not. When you find it, you are more than upset.

“Did you find it?” He asks, his voice already laced with victory.

Scowling at him, you say, “Yes… I still don’t think it should be a word though.”

“Why not?”

You’re a bit frantic as you explain, “It literally defines an axe with an ‘e’, it shouldn’t be allowed as ax when axe is spelled as axe and is also a valid scrabble word, you can’t have two words spelt differently with the same definition.”

He shakes his head at you, “Are you even trying to be normal about this?”

“I am putting in so much effort, be grateful.” His stupid word is stupid and outrageous.

“Fair enough, I am grateful.” He smiles at you; you’re frowning at him.

Taking a deep breath, you give him his stupid twenty-four points, since he got a stupid triple word score with his stupid two letter made up word.

It’s not long after that when Kung Lao walks in through the front door. He sees you both playing scrabble and remarks, “You guys are like two old people in a nursing home.”

You ignore his comparison, “You’re home early,” you comment, not looking at him, instead staring intently at the board.

Raiden is putting down his next word and you swear to God if it’s something ridiculous, you’re flipping the board. He’s currently 20 points ahead, and he’s only winning because of his bullshit word.

Kung Lao walks over to you both and stands behind you, watching over your shoulder. He winces at your letters because how do you currently not have a single consonant.

“She wouldn’t stop talking about her ex, it was weird,” Kung Lao explains. “Babe, I’m sorry but you have the worst letters right now.”

You turn around and slap at him, “I know that, thank you babe,” you huff out at him, you didn’t need his commentary.

“You never call me babe,” Raiden directs at Kung Lao jokingly and you chuckle at him.

You abruptly stop laughing and say to him, “Don’t make me laugh, I am so annoyed at you right now.”

“Why do you keep agreeing to play scrabble with each other? It never ends well.” Kung Lao states. “By the way, one of you spelt axe wrong,” he observes.

“See? Even Kung Lao thinks it’s wrong!” You point at Raiden accusatorily.

“I don’t think it’s wrong, that is objectively spelt wrong,” comes Kung Lao’s reply.

Raiden opens the dictionary and shoves it in his face, “It is right there, it is legal!”

“How many points did you get for it?” Kung Lao asks, squinting at the book to read it.

“Twenty-four,” you grit out.

Raiden is proud as he says, “I got a triple word score.”

You’re seething in your seat; you still haven’t gotten over it.

“Who’s winning?” He asks.

You feel like you might strain yourself, “He is, by twenty points.”

Kung Lao cringes, “Yikes.” He puts a hand on your shoulder, “Try not to flip the board.”

“I’m not going to flip the board.”

“You did that one time I played against you,” he reminds.

“Because cwm shouldn’t be a word,” you pout.

“It is though,” he shrugs at you.

“It shouldn’t be though!” You scowl at him, “Still annoyed about that.”

“And that’s why I won’t play scrabble with you anymore,” he tells you.

“You guys act like I am the crazy one, you’re the ones putting down stupid words,” you whinge.

Kung Lao places his hand on top of your head and shakes you lightly. You slap him away, “Stop it.”

He chuckles at you and moves across the room to flop onto the couch.

“Did it not go well?” Raiden asks, looking at his letters.

Kung Lao looks at him with his brows raised, “Are you deaf or something? I said before, she spoke about her ex the whole time, it was uncomfortable.”

“Ah that is right, sorry, I am distracted.” Raiden’s reply is dismissive, trying to determine his next move.

You snicker at the both of them; you find their interactions funny.

“I am sorry about your stroke of bad luck Kung Lao,” you look at him pitifully.  

His eyebrows frown at you, “What do you mean?”

Raiden answers for you, “Every date you go on at the moment, you either strike out or there is something “wrong” with her.” He uses finger quotes on his use of ‘wrong’.

“That is not true,” Kung Lao protests.

“Mmmm yes, it is,” you counter.

He huffs, laying back down, “Whatever, when’s the last time either of you got any?”

You decide to make a stupid joke, “Earlier, we did it while you were gone,” you keep your voice even and steady, trying to be convincing. You lightly kick at Raiden under the table, asking him to play along.

Raiden looks to you, his face straight as he says, “Yup, was great, real hot.”

Hearing Raiden say that almost makes you lose it laughing on the spot, but you soldier on.

At what you’ve both ‘confessed’ to, Kung Lao shoots up on the couch and looks between the two of you, “Actually?!”

“Yeah, best I ever had,” you say, Raiden looks like he might injure himself across from you.

Kung Lao is in disbelief, “You guys have to be joking, there’s no way!”

You nod your head very seriously, “There is, it was the only way Raiden would play scrabble with me.”

“Mhm, yeah, that was my condition.” Raiden confirms.

“I’m about to lose my mind, what the hell?” Kung Lao’s tone seems like he’s stressing himself out. “Why would you– I mean– with Raiden???” His attention is completely on you, he looks lost and maybe a little upset? You aren’t sure.

You smile at him, your lips shaking with how much you’re trying to contain your laughter.

“She is joking,” Raiden says, ending the joke quicker than you usually would.

“Boo, why’d you tell him so soon,” you complain.

Raiden looks over to Kung Lao, “Because he looks like he’s about to pass out.”

The both of you are lightly chuckling at the whole thing, Kung Lao looks confused.

“So, you two didn’t sleep together?” He asks, pointing between the two of you.

“Not tonight,” you tease.

“WHAT?” He exclaims.

Raiden clarifies, “Not any night.”

You give Raiden a thumbs down in response, he’s ruining your fun.

“I think I just aged twenty years,” Kung Lao says, “I need to lay down,” he lays himself back down on the couch, being overdramatic as usual.

You shake your head at him, “Why would you care anyways?”

“I have rights,” is his ominous response.

Your eyebrows pull together at his odd behaviour, “You sure do, buddy.”

“Alright, play your word, I want to end this game,” Raiden says, bringing your attention back to scrabble.

Sadly, you lose to him by ten points, and you feel cheated. His stupid word is what got him the win. You object to him about it, but he ignores you, too pleased in himself with his bullshit win.

“I am never playing scrabble with you ever again,” you huff, crossing your arms and slumping back in your chair.

Kung Lao calls out to you, “You say that every time you lose to one of us.”

“And then you get bored and beg us to play against you,” Raiden finishes.

“I do not beg,” you sulk.

Raiden reminds you, “You did earlier, said you’d behave and everything.”

“What? Every time she asks me, I get threatened, not begged.” Kung Lao complains from over on the couch.

You shrug at him, “You aren’t as much of a sucker as Raiden.”

“I’ll remember that you have just said that,” Raiden says.

Smiling sweetly at him you reply, “I’m sorry.”

He smiles at you faintly, immediately forgiving you, “It’s fine.”

“You are a sucker,” Kung Lao directs at Raiden.

You laugh at the both of them, “Alright, I’m going to bed, good night.” You get up from your seat and start walking down the hall to your room.

“Wait,” Kung Lao calls to you, making you stop where you’re standing.

You wait for him to continue, he lifts his forearm off his eyes to look at you, “Are you working tomorrow?”

“Yeah, in the evening though,” you inform him.

“Alright, good night,” he says.

“Good night,” Raiden says as well.

You hum to the both of them and wander off to bed for the evening.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

The next day when you wake up, they are both gone, already having started their days while you slept. There isn’t much you feel like you can do currently, feeling stuck in waiting mode for your shift at work. It isn’t for another handful of hours that you have to get ready, but you don’t feel like you can do anything in the meantime. So, instead of going out, you stay home and read some more, do some odd cleaning, and get upset remembering how you lost at scrabble last night.

They both probably won’t play against you for a couple months now since you got pretty close to flipping the board last night. It doesn’t matter though, when they won’t play you, Madam Bo does, and she at least uses real words. She’s the one who taught you to play, and she doesn’t appreciate their stupid words either, so it’s always nice to play with her. Preferable even.

As you watch the sun hang low in the sky you think it’s about time to get ready for work, you consider taking the scrabble board with you but ultimately decide against it. Staying late to play scrabble isn’t something you want to do tonight, maybe if you had a day shift instead. Next time, you think.

As you walk into work you take note that it is busy-ish, busier than usual, it’s the end of the week and people are hungry, coming here to treat themselves instead of cooking at home. Which is good… just means there is more for you to do.

It’s towards the tail end of your shift when Raiden and Kung Lao walk in, sitting in their usual spot. You realise now, Kung Lao asked you last night when you were working so they could come in during your shift. They usually walk back with you if they’re in the area but if you’re working a later shift one or both of them will come in towards your finishing time so they can walk you home.

It’s sweet that they do, it’s also handy because sometimes the customers will relentlessly flirt with you or wait until you finish the shift and try to hook up with you afterwards. Having Kung Lao and Raiden here prevents that from happening, though, it’d be better if you being uninterested and saying no was enough.

As you make your way over to their table, you get stopped by a familiar face, he’s a regular you haven’t really interacted much with.

“Hey…” His voice gets awkward as you stop in front of him, like he wasn’t expecting you to pay attention to him. He’s kinda cute, in an awkward and shy sort of way.

“May I help you?” You ask, in customer service mode.

He scratches at the back of his head awkwardly, “Uhm yes… well not like, I don’t need help… I um… wanted to tell you how pretty you are…” He’s stumbling over his words and blushing insanely hard. It’s endearing.

You’re kind of into it, thinking back to what Kung Lao said last night you realise it has been a while since you got any action, dating and otherwise.

“Thank you, that’s really sweet of you to say,” you smile politely at him, okay so you’re a little rusty on the flirting front too.

He looks a little shocked at your openness to his clumsy flirting, “…Would you, like to go on a date? With me? Some day?”

You go to reply to him, but Kung Lao has walked up to you, “You know, it’s kinda rude to leave customers waiting, babe.”

“Give me a minute,” you look at him, frowning politely, trying to get him to understand that he needs to leave… right now.

“Oh, are you guys… together?” The cute stranger asks.

You say, “No.”

As Kung Lao says, “Yes.”

You look at him dubiously, confused by what he’s doing.

The man sitting at the table looks even more confused than you do, “I’m really sorry, I’m lost,” he says.

You exhale before speaking to Kung Lao, “Go sit down, I’ll be at your table shortly.”

He looks at you, gaze scrutinizing. You have no idea what’s gotten into him, this is the first time he’s interrupted you while with a customer. Normally if you need help, you handle it yourself or look to them, but you didn’t prompt his help.

He huffs slightly as he walks back over to the table, Raiden mouths ‘sorry’ at you, feeling badly for not being able to stop Kung Lao. You make a note to yourself to ask Kung Lao what he was thinking just now.

“I am so sorry, that was my roommate,” you direct your attention back to the shy man in front of you.

He looks relieved, “That’s okay… so, um… about going on a date? With me?”

“I think I’d like that,” you say.

The both of you exchange names and numbers and you say goodbye to him, needing to get back to work. Which means going over to Kung Lao and Raiden’s table.

Walking up to them, you ask, “Are you guys ready to order?” You’re using your customer service voice on them.

“Don’t be mad,” Kung Lao moans.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, sir. I’m just here to take your order,” you reply, tense smile on your face.

He turns to look at Raiden, pleading, “Do something.”

“I would like some tea,” Raiden smiles at you, trying to avoid worsening the situation.

“What kind?” You ask.

“Surprise me,” he’s being tugged on by Kung Lao but is ignoring him.

You nod and go to turn around but Kung Lao tugs on your apron, causing you to stop and look at him, “Yes?”

“I am sorry,” he mumbles, letting go of your apron.

Grabbing the top of his head and making him look at you, you tell him, “You better be, you embarrassed me.” You let go of his head, patting it once.

“I didn’t mean to…” he frowns at you, smoothing his hair back.

You hum your reply, “Mhm, I’m so sure.”

Raiden asks, “Did he ask you out?”

You nod at him, “Yeah, we exchanged numbers.”

Kung Lao makes a face of displeasure, prompting you to ask, “What is wrong now?”

“Nothing,” he shrugs at you, “Just thought he was weird.”

“He was nice,” you counter.

He immediately asks you, “Why are you even interested in him?”

You consider your answer, “He’s cute, and seems nice.”

Raiden is exasperated with the two of you, choosing to check out of the conversation. Looking away from the pair of you, suddenly finding the wall very interesting.  

“People always hit on you, you never give them your number,” Kung Lao recounts.

Shrugging at him as you say, “You’re the one who’s always saying I never get out.”

“It’s not like that’s a bad thing,” he retorts.

You roll your eyes at him, this conversation is going nowhere, “Whatever, I’m done talking about this. Do you want some tea?”

He folds his arms over his chest, pouting slightly, “Yes.”

“Okay,” you chuckle a little at his response, finding his sulking cute.

Turning around you go to get their tea. They’re only buying something so that they can stay until you finish your shift, which looking at the clock, you have less than an hour left of it.

The rest of your shift goes by quickly, which you’re thankful for. You’re ready to get into bed, tomorrow is the beginning of the weekend and it’ll be the first one you have off in a while. Lately, you’ve been covering all the weekend shifts. Madam Bo is low on staff and the staff that she does have other than you, don’t want to work the weekend shifts.

Picking up the slack doesn’t bother you that much, but you have been experiencing some burn out lately, overworking yourself a little. Which Madam Bo noticed and refused to let you come in this weekend.

When you are ready to leave, Kung Lao and Raiden are waiting for you out the front.

You come up from behind them, “Thank you, for walking me back,” you tell them, grateful that they both care for you.

“You are welcome,” Raiden says, smile polite.

Kung Lao pats your head, “You attract weirdos, someone has to walk you home.” He jokes.

You’re rolling your eyes at him as you flick his hand off your head, “Not nice.”

“Sorry,” he apologises quickly, “It’s not your fault.”

You hum at him, “It’s fine.”

The three of you begin your walk home, the stars are beautiful, there’s so many of them out here. As you walk in between the two of them, you feel an overwhelming affection for them both, your hands slip into theirs; holding both of them at the same time and swinging them back and forth.

They both allow it, letting you have your moment.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

With the late finish last night and your recent exhaustion, you sleep in until later in the day. You wake up confused and lost, like you’ve lost ten years or something. Blearily, you look at the clock on your wall, it’s one in the afternoon. You think? You’re having a hard time comprehending the minute and hour hands on the clock right now.

Getting out of bed, you wander through the house, looking for one of the other two. Raiden isn’t anywhere to be found but Kung Lao is sitting in the lounge, snacking.

“You’re finally up,” he observes as you shuffle into the lounge. You feel like a corpse, “Geez, are you okay?” He asks you.

Shaking your head at him is your response, you don’t feel like talking yet.

He pats the cushion beside him for you to sit on. Which you do, shuffling forward and collapsing into it, knocking into him on your way down.

“Is it after one?” You ask him.

“If by after one you mean it’s two, then yeah,” he chuckles at you lightly, “You sure you’re good?”

“Mm fine, why didn’t you wake me?”

“You have been overworking yourself, figured you could use the extra sleep,” he shrugs at you.

You grunt at him, “I feel like I’ve been in a coma.”

“You look like it too,” he teases, putting his snack off to the side.

The expression on your face is one of displeasure at his comment, you move past it though, instead asking him, “Where’s Raiden?”

“I dunno, out doing stuff?” His response is unconcerned.

Shaking your head at him you say, “You didn’t ask him?”

“Nah,” he’s still unbothered.

You can’t tell if he’s not curious enough or if you’re too nosey. “You need to ask more questions.”

“Maybe you need to ask less,” he retorts.

You roll your eyes at him and get up, retreating back to your room, “I’m going back to my room.” You tell him, choosing to change and freshen up slightly.

“Okay,” he hums at you thoughtlessly.

He doesn’t leave you alone for long though. You’re reading on your stomach in bed when he knocks on your door, he’s only been alone for twenty minutes but he knows you’re awake now and he likes company.

“Come in,” you call to him.

He walks in and flops down on his back next to you on your bed, “I’m bored,” he complains.

“When aren’t you?”

He just groans at you in response.

You’re exasperated when you ask, “What am I meant to do about it?”

His head turns to the side to smile at you, “I am so glad you asked.”

It’s your turn to groan now, you regret asking just from the look on his face.

“I wanna play a game,” he informs you.

“What kind of game,” you ask, voice laced with your uncertainty.

His smile turns just slightly evil, “Truth or dare.”

You drop your head into your mattress between your arms, your hands are still holding your book, “Isn’t that a game for a bunch of horny teens?”

He takes your book from your hands and chucks it to the floor; you pop your head up to look at him, “Hey!” You protest, “don’t break my book about it.”

“It’s a way for us to get to know each other better,” He argues against your prior question.

You side eye him as you say, “I already know far too much about you.”

“Come on, I’m bored,” he whinges.

“Kung Lao, this is a dumb game, if you wanna know things about me, just ask.”

He rolls his eyes at you, uninterested in your suggestion, “That is boring, plus in truth or dare you have to tell the truth, it’s the law.”

“Are you going to be annoying about this if I refuse?” You ask, already knowing that he is.

“Probably,” he shrugs.

Your face drops back into the mattress, “Fine.”

He celebrates, “Nice! Okay, I’ll be nice and you can ask first.”

“Truth or dare?” You drone into the fabric of the bed, voice muffled.

“Truth,” he answers.

“Lame,” you tease, “I dunno what to ask you.”

“Anything you want, free reign,” he says, eyes looking to your ceiling.

You whine into the bed, “Too much power.”

“You are such a wuss,” he chortles at you.

“Shut up,” you think on it a bit longer, “Mmmm, oh okay! Why did you interrupt me and that guy last night?”

“Dumb question,” he criticises.

You look to him, head still flat to the mattress, “Gotta answer, your rules.”

He scowls at your roof, “Didn’t like him.”

“Why not?”

He tuts at you, “You gotta wait till the next round if you want to know,” he looks to you, both your faces are close to each other, “Truth or dare.”

“Truth,” you answer.

He hums as he thinks of a question, his gaze mischievous as he settles on what he wants to ask, “How many people have you slept with?”

“Dare,” you change your answer and lay your face back into mattress.

“You can’t do that,” he’s laughing at you.

You mumble to him, “I just did.”

“Fine, I dare you to answer my question then.”

“You are such a loser,” you protest, sighing as you answer, “One.”

“I was expecting a higher number,” he says.

“Sorry I’m not a whore like you,” you tease.

“I like being a whore, thank you very much.”

You hum to him, not interested in actually answering him, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.” He answers, you look to him and he’s smiling cheekily at you, premeditating that you were probably going to ask him the same question and trying to avoid it.

“This is not fun,” you whine.

He purses his lips at you, “I am having fun.”

“’Course you are.”

“Just give me the dare already,” his hand taps your shoulder blade.

You decide to play the same way he did with you, “I dare you to tell me when the last time you got laid was.” You’re hoping to give him a taste of his own medicine, perhaps make him uncomfortable but you aren’t that lucky.

“Probably… a month, maybe.” He answers with no hesitation, “I see you have lowered yourself to my level,” he laughs at you, pleased by you using his same strategy.

“I have so many regrets,” your face is still pushed into the sheets, you’re refusing to look at him.

“I miss sex,” he sighs.

“I’m not bothered.”

“When was the last time you had sex?”

“Not your business,” you tell him.

“You’re gonna have to answer cause that’s what I’m gonna ask you whether you pick truth or dare,” he pokes your side.

Slapping his hand you say, “I don’t know, when was my last relationship?”

“Like two years ago,” he answers for you, voice shocked.

“Calm down, it’s not that big of a deal.”

He sits up suddenly, “No wonder you don’t miss sex, you have forgotten how good it is.”

“It was never that great anyways,”

“Oh, you poor thing,” his tone is laced with pity, genuinely feeling for you, “I feel so bad for you.”

“Well stop, I’m literally fine,” you huff at him.

He rolls you onto your back and looks down at you, “Hurry up and ask me truth or dare, I have more things to ask you now.” He looks a little too excited right now.

You don’t want to know what else he wants to ask you, “I don’t think I wanna play anymore.”

“Come on! It was just getting good,” he’s staring at you very intently, it’s making you feel self-conscious.

Looking away from him and already regretting this, you ask him, “Truth or dare?”

“Truth.”

You decide to bring it back around, “Why didn’t you like the guy at Madam Bo’s?”  

He scowls at your question; he seemingly doesn’t want to answer this one question.

“We could always do something else,” you try giving him an out, mostly you’re trying to give yourself an out.

He keeps eye contact with you, “No… I don’t know, I just didn’t like him or how he was looking at you.”

You feel a little warm in the face under his gaze, “What does that mean?”

He smirks at you, “Nope, my turn now, truth or dare.”

“Does it even matter what I pick at this point?”

“Nope, not really,” his eyes are alight, amused at all of this, you guess.

You give him the response he wants, “Truth.”

“Your last partner, he ever get you to finish?”

“Kind of?” you wince at your answer.

He prompts you for more information, “What does that mean?”

“I guess, technically no?” His eyes on you are piercing, he’s waiting for you to elaborate but you don’t know if you want to, “I mean, he needed… my help?”

Kung Lao’s eyes widen in understanding, “You poor woman,” he’s shaking his head pitifully at you, “Now I understand why you don’t miss it, wasn’t any different from masturbating.”

You feel beyond embarrassed now, you reach your hand up and over his mouth, “You need to stop talking.”

From under your hand, you feel his tongue lick you, “Ew! What the hell?” You sit up properly, he’s closer to you than you were expecting.

He laughs at your disgust, proud of himself.

Your eyebrows raise at him, “Can we be done with this now?”

His own eyebrows pinch in thought, “Mmm, no.”

“Kung Lao,” you whine at him, frustrated by his persistence, “If you are so bored we can play scrabble.”

“I am not playing scrabble against you anytime soon,” he shoots back, “Plus, this is way more fun.”

“For you maybe,” you mutter before collapsing back onto the mattress.

Kung Lao’s eyes trace up your body, lingering on every part of you, “Have some shame Kung Lao,” you joke.

“We could kill two birds with one stone?” He proposes.

This is already headed in a suggestive direction and being the more responsible of the two, you feel like you should shut him down.

He doesn’t let you talk though, “I miss sex and you don’t know how good it is,” his eyes are burning into yours, he’s completely serious.

“I don’t think that’s a good idea,” you tell him honestly.

“I think it’s a fantastic idea,” he presses, “I guarantee you’ll thank me after.”

Your gaze is stern as you look at him, “This could irreparably damage our friendship.” Your choice of words leave an opening for him.

“But you are considering it,” he blinks at you, ignoring your concerns and instead focusing on the small window of opportunity you unintentionally left.

Your eyebrows pull together, he just wants to get his dick wet and you’re the one here right now, “You’re working yourself up, go have a cold shower or something.”

He chuckles, “You want to die not knowing how good I am?”

You rolls your eyes at him and his cockiness, “Your ego is taking up so much room in here, why don’t I leave you alone with it?”

His hand is bold as it rests on your thigh, “I think… you are interested in what I have to offer.”

You’re trying your best to be unaffected by him but he is cute and has such strong looking arms, his biceps are defined and muscular. The hand on your thigh is large and warm, his heated gaze is hard to avoid, it’s making you warm all over.

Being touched by him is overwhelming, you haven’t been touched by someone intimately or otherwise in a long time and it’s making your skin buzz.

“Truth or dare?” He asks suddenly, pulling his hand away and sitting cross legged beside you. His eyes are still watching you.

You groan as you pull yourself up into a sitting position in front of him, mirroring the way he is sat, “I don’t think it’s your turn to ask.”

“Well, ask then,” he replies.

You huff at him, feeling confused by his actions, “Truth or dare?”

“Dare.”

“I dare you to…” you purse your lips in thought, wanting to make him uncomfortable or embarrassed like he did to you but you aren’t convinced you can.

Mindlessly, your eyes flit to his hands again, they’re resting on his knees. You can’t stop thinking about his hand on your thigh, it’s quite frankly embarrassing how touch starved you are.

One of his hands reaches out, his finger hooks under your chin and raises your eyeline back to his, he’s smirking at you, “Eyes up here, babe.” His tone is smug.

“I know,” you push his hand away.

He smiles knowingly at you, “What were you looking at?”

“Nothing, I was thinking,” you try dismissing him.

He hums at you, not convinced of your answer but letting you get away with it anyways.

“I dare you to… give me a hug.” You settle on, it’s dumb and a little self-indulgent but you haven’t been held in a long time.

Kung Lao looks dumbfounded by your dare, “If you wanted a hug you did not have to dare me for one.” His voice is amused as he speaks but his hands reach out to you and pull you into his lap so you’re straddling him.

In this position your knees rest beside his folded legs as your arms wrap around his middle, holding him to you. Kung Lao’s own large arms hold you; his embrace is firm and comforting. You think it’s a little pathetic of you to enjoy this so much but you feel very content in his hold.

“You are weird,” he hums, his chest vibrates with it.

Ignoring his comment, you enjoy the hug, he is warm and firm and you think he gives the best hugs. When you think you’ve overstayed your welcome in his arms you go to move away but he holds you to him, not letting you go.

His hands roam up and down your back in a soothing motion, “My previous offer still stands.”

He lets you pull back this time but he doesn’t allow you to leave his lap, your faces are close together and his eyes are slightly lidded as he waits for your response.

You voice your concerns, “I still don’t think that’s a good idea…”

One of his hands leaves your back and grasps the side of your face, his eyes are looking you over, lingering on your lips. His thumb traces your bottom lip lightly, his soft touch and intense gaze is making your resolve shaky.

“Tell me no, tell me that you are not interested,” his voice seems strained, laced with desire.

Your reply is hesitant, “I– it’s not about that, if this ruined our friendship… I’d never forgive myself.”

His eyes are begging you, “You can blame me then.”

Something about his borderline desperation for you is making you dizzy; his presence is surrounding you and it’s making your thoughts cloudy. The hand on your face, the other on your hip, his pleading eyes, it’s all making you want him.

Maybe hugging him was a bad idea, with how close he is now, you can’t make a well thought out decision. All you can think about is him and his soft lips and how badly you want him.

One of your own hands comes up to his face, stroking his cheek bone. Instead of replying to him, you lean in and kiss him lightly, you’re timid, unsure if this is what he really wants. He sighs against you, his mouth responds to you quickly, taking control of the kiss and holding you firmly.

His kiss is hot, and wet and it’s a lot. It’s consuming, especially when he deepens it. The way he’s kissing you makes your heart leap in your chest and the longer his lips are on yours, the more eager his kiss gets.

He has a whimper falling from you and at the sound he pulls back, the pair of you are breathless, his expression is cocky when he looks at you. The look on your face is apparently delightful to him, both his hands hold your face as he looks at you.

“You have such a pretty look on your face right now,” he purrs at you.

His words make you buzz, you’re throbbing for him and it’s annoying that he’s so smug about it. To punish him, you go to move away but his hands quickly move to your hips and pull you back to him, your pussy makes contact with his crotch. The minor contact makes you gasp.

You whine at him, “Kung Lao–”

“–Can I have you?” He cuts you off, his grip holding you to him, you can feel how hard he is under you. The size and feel of him is distracting you, you’re needy, “Pay attention,” he scolds, his own need for you is overwhelming but he needs your consent first.

“Please,” you ask. He considers you for a moment and it makes you whine at him, “What?”

“Wondering if I should make you beg for it,” he replies.

“I don’t think you could,” you dispute.

He raises an eyebrow at you, “Is that a challenge?”

Suddenly, you regret your words. He may have a large ego but there is usually a reason behind it, and unfortunately, you are touch starved and needy for him. You have no doubts that he could make you beg.

You’re serious as you say, “No.”

“That was a quick change of heart,” he smiles at you.

You look away from him, “I don’t think it would be nice of you to do…”

“It would be hot though,” he counters.

The way he’s looking at you is suggestive even with the humour in his words, you completely believe that he absolutely would tease you until you begged him for it and that it probably would be hot, but with how wet and needy you are all you want is for him to fuck you nicely.

You’re shy as you confess, “I want you, now.” You hope that if you’re honest, he’ll show mercy.

His grip on you tightens lightly, his dick jumps at your admission. Suddenly, he’s pushing you off him and onto your back, flat on the mattress. He pulls off his shirt, exposing his torso to you, the sight has your mouth watering. His muscles move under his skin with his movements, and it makes you rub your thighs together for friction. His hands urgently tug your pants and underwear off at once, his haste takes you off guard.

His hands spread your thighs open, looking down shamelessly at your wet cunt, you try to close your legs, but his hands hold you apart, “You’re so wet,” he observes, and it makes you squirm against him, he’s doing too much.

He moves his eyes off your centre and looks at your shirt, deciding he dislikes it, “That needs to come off.”

You hesitate slightly, feeling very exposed compared to him but you comply and tug it off over your head, chucking it down onto the floor. He places your thighs on his hips and then his hands travel up your body, caressing your sides, before he places both hands on the mattress either side your head.

Leaning down he lowers himself onto his forearms and takes your lips in his again, his tongue immediately in your mouth. His kiss is dirty and leaves you breathless, desperate. One of his hands touches your skin again. Moving down your body to grip at your thigh, holding you to him. He then moves his hand to touch your pussy, he slides his fingers through your wetness. The feeling has you moaning into his mouth, he swallows your sounds, kissing you hungrily.

When he pulls back, he keeps his forehead to yours. His fingers caress at you, spreading your slick around, his gaze is far away as he looks at you. Eventually he can’t take it and pulls back from you, sitting between your thighs and watching his fingers play with your cunt.

“Don’t think I have ever been with someone this wet,” he groans at you, his words make you feel embarrassed, and you try to close your legs, “It’s a good thing, babe,” he assures you, not wanting you to deprive him of the view.

His finger probes at your opening, he grunts as he pushes it into you, “Poor thing, you can barely take my finger.” His tone is filled with faux pity.

You supress a whine at the feeling of his finger entering you, his eyes are completely distracted with the way you’re sucking him in. His thumb circles your clit firmly, wanting you to relax. The stimulation makes you whimper and bite your lip.

He speaks to you, “Don’t need to be quiet, preferable if you weren’t, actually.”

“It’s –ngh– embarrassing, to be loud,” you respond.

“Who told you that?” His eyes are still watching your pussy, he’s starting to withdraw his finger, pushing it right back in, a squelching noise filling the room at his actions. The sound makes a deep groan come from him.

The feeling makes you gasp, hands covering your mouth as you moan.

“I like the sounds you make, they’re cute,” he pulls his finger out just to stuff a second in next to it, you feel full as you pulse around him.

“You wouldn’t know,” you counter.

“Hmm that’s cute… you think I can’t hear you? Late at night, shoving your fingers into your tight little pussy?” Both his fingers are working you open, fucking into you softly.

His words shock you, it’s not often that you indulge and to know he’s heard you sets your skin on fire.

“Always make such cute sounds, can hear how you try to be quiet,” he purrs to you, eyes never leaving your cunt, too involved with stretching you open. He wants you to take him, he wants you to be full of him.

When in doubt, deny, “I –hah– dunno what you’re –nghff– talking about.”

He chuckles at your flimsy lie, “Can deny all you want but I know what I hear, the way you gasp and whine is difficult to forget.” His hand moves quicker, the lewd sounds in the room getting louder with how wet his words make you.

His control right now is surprising even to him, abruptly he pulls his fingers from you and the loss makes you whine. He looks to you and then shoves his fingers, wet from you into your mouth, you suck them clean and the expression on his face looks like he’s about to fall apart in front of you.

After he retracts them slowly from your mouth, he lays on his stomach between your thighs.

“You don’t have to do that,” you tell him quickly.

His eyes are dark, “I know, I want to.”

His hands grab onto your legs and throw them over his shoulders. He blows on your cunt just to watch you twitch for him; his gaze is greedy. And so is his tongue as he licks into you, his mouth downright worshiping your pussy as he tastes you.

Your back arches off the bed at the contact, head swimming in ecstasy at the way his tongue fucks you, his nose pressed into your clit. It’s got your eyes rolling back and hands gripping the sheets, you’re incredibly wet, getting him wet and messy. You want him inside you, you want his body on yours, want him to press his skin up against yours as he fucks you. You want him.

He moans into your pussy, his pace quickening. He’s determined to have you cumming on his face and unwilling to pull away until you do. His hands hold your thighs spread for him, his tongue laps at you, he pulls it out of your pussy hole to suck on your clit. It has you seeing stars, moans and whimpers increasing, so incredibly close to the edge.

As he enters his fingers back inside you and begins stroking your inner walls, you start to tighten around him. He hums happily into your cunt, knowing you’re so close to cumming. Your thighs try to close around his head, but his grip holds you steady, it’s the prick of his nails biting into you slightly that has you finishing around his fingers.

You release supressed whimpers as you cum and when he notices that you are cumming, he rips his fingers from you and replaces them with his mouth, swallowing your release eagerly. He moans into your cunt at the taste of you, overjoyed at your orgasm.

When he pulls back, he’s tugging his pants down and taking them off, desperate for you. His own arousal setting him on fire, so close to finishing just from making you cum. He strokes his dick languidly, the slight pressure making him sigh out in relief.  

The sight of his cock reminds you of how badly you want to be filled with him, drained slightly from your orgasm but still needy for him. He’s fucking his hand to the sight of you, one of his hands holds your thighs apart while he kneels between them, stroking himself and looking at your cunt.

“Kung Lao,” you whine at him, urging him to move along.

He looks to you, his eyes are lidded and filled with lust, but he smirks at you, “Beg.”

His word punches you in the gut, he wants you to beg for his dick. He gave you a taste of euphoria and is now withholding.

“Mm not gonna beg,” you tell him.

His voice is slightly strained, holding back a moan, “That’s really too bad.”

He leans over you, his hand on your thigh moving to beside your head, holding his weight above you. He moves the tip of his cock through your folds, rubbing you and spreading your slick over the tip of his dick. You wonder if he’s going to give up that easily, but as he keeps sliding his cockhead against you, you realise you’re not that lucky. He’s teasing you, the sensation of him has you keening, wanting to moan but containing the sounds, not wanting him to have the satisfaction.

“Cause I think you’d sound really cute if you begged me,” he adds onto his previous statement.

“Hah– Mm not gonna beg,” you repeat.

“We will see,” his reply is unworried, unrushed, taking this at his own pace.

He continues moving the head of his dick through your folds before briefly dipping to your pussy hole, stretching you on him just the smallest bit before pulling away. He pulls away from your cunt and strokes himself, he moans at the feeling.

His eyes are on you and your needy gaze, “Could have it right now, babe.” He taunts, the tip of his cock pushing into your cunt again, but ultimately pulling away immediately.

He repeats the action, over and over again, pushing into you the tiniest amount, enough to slightly stretch you open on him and then pulling away before you get any kind of satisfaction. Moans spill from him every now and again, both from your pussy leaking on his cock and the way his hand moves up and down his shaft.

His resolve seems impeccable for a man who almost came in his pants while eating you out, he continues teasing you, never indulging you. He wants to hear you beg for him; his skin is burning for it.

You’re close to tears now, needing to feel him, your eyebrows are pinched together, “Kung Lao, please.”

“What was that?” His eyes look to yours.

You whine slightly as you say, “I need you… please.” Your eyes are large and pleading.

His reaction to your expression and pleas, is a large victorious smile, “That is all you had to say, babe.”

Finally, he slowly starts pushing into you, properly this time. Inch by delicious inch, he presses into you, filling you completely. Large and heavy inside you, your cunt throbbing around him at the feeling of finally being full. When he’s sheathed completely inside, pelvis pressed to yours, you both moan loudly.

“Gods, I might cum like this – hah – why didn’t you beg sooner,” he complains, leaning down so his skin is resting on yours, holding his weight up with his forearms.

You feel speechless, so full of him, your cunt pulsing around him. When he leans down to you, you wrap your legs around his waist, hooking them behind him. The shift causes him to slip deeper and he whimpers in response.

You clench around him at the sound, and he grunts, he pulls out of you abruptly and it makes you gasp first before whining at the loss of him.

“Wait – wait, what are you doing,” you whine at him, confused.

He’s holding the base of his cock as it twitches in his hand, “I almost –fuck– I almost came,” he curses, trying to control himself.

You go to whinge at him some more, but he stops you, “Need you to be quiet for a moment.” He asserts, worried your begging will push him over the edge very suddenly.

Complying, you wait a moment for him, and when he’s ready he pushes into you again, filling you perfectly. You wrap your legs around him when he’s pressed to you completely. He’s resting on his forearms again, framing your face and gazing at you.

“I thought you were supposed to be some kind of expert,” you say, teasing him a little.

He huffs at you, before nosing at the side of your face, “I am, but you have a divine pussy.” The compliment goes straight to your core, and you clench around him, he groans at you, “Like being praised huh?”

He draws his hips away from you, starting to fuck into you, his initial pace attempting to be gentle. He’s so big and he’s pressing up against places inside you that have never been touched, it makes you whimper and whine. The sounds are embarrassing to you and as you go to cover your mouth, Kung Lao’s hands grab onto both your wrists, pinning them to the bed.

“I want to hear how well I fuck you,” he whispers into your ear, the words send a shiver down your spine.

The pace he set changes into a fast and desperate one, fucking into you harshly and quickly. He looks down to where he’s fucking into you, groaning at the way you take him so well, he looks back to you. Wanting to see your expression. The way he’s fucking you makes your head spin, your eyes glaze over as you look up at him, his face is concentrated as he focuses on his pace.

You think he looks stunning like this, slightly fucked out and desperate as he fucks into you over and over again.

He catches the look in your eyes, “Looking at me with heart eyes, babe. What’s wrong?” He lets go of one of your wrists to hold the side of your face, “Dick so good you’re falling for me?”

If you weren’t so lost, if you didn’t feel so good right now, you’d bite back, say something teasing in nature but as he bullies his way into your cunt over and over again. You can’t help but mindlessly agree, nodding at him in response, hoping he’ll fuck you over the edge.

He relishes in your response, and he smiles at you before leaning down and kissing you. His tongue searching your mouth, making you even more breathless than his cock.

Pulling back, he watches the way you’re writhing and moaning under him, it has him right on the edge, barely fighting off his own orgasm. Only holding out by the skin of his teeth, refusing to cum before you do.

His thrusts become rougher, his pelvis grinds into your clit each time he re-enters you and it makes you flutter around him.

“You’re so close –ngh– I can feel it, cum all over me, babe.” He groans at you, “Mm the way your tight pussy is choking my dick has me right on the edge, –hah– feels so good,” he leans down to your ear, “Been doing such a good job, got the best cunt I’ve ever been in.”

All the praise he showers you with has you cumming without warning, your cunt clenching tightly around him. You moan out his name, whimpers exiting you, the force of your orgasm has you forgetting to be embarrassed. Too caught up in how good it feels to cum around him.

He moans at the feeling of you pulsing around him, his dick jerking, your own release triggers his very quickly. He rushes to pull out of you, but you lock your legs around him and hold him tight, wanting him to cum inside you.

As he realises your intent he keels over slightly, grinding his pelvis into you, filling you up with his release and riding out both your highs. His groans trail off into whimpers as he grows sensitive, but he doesn’t stop grinding into you, enjoying the way your pussy twitches around him too much.

You’re off in the clouds, not comprehending much of what’s happening around you, not until Kung Lao presses kisses to your lips, slowly coaxing your attention back to him. When you feel a little more tethered to Earth you wrap your arms around his neck and kiss him back properly. He smiles into the kiss, pulling back from you and then pressing a final peck to your cheek.

He carefully pulls out of you, gaze watching his cum leak out of you and onto the bed, his eyes are alight as he watches your cunt pulse. Your legs kick him away, as much as they can anyways, you’re a little shaky and sore.

He chuckles at you but flops down onto the mattress next to you, turning to his side so he can look over you.

“So?” He asks, wanting to hear you say how good he knows he was.

You pout up at the ceiling, “So, what?”

“Come on, I know I was the best you ever had,” he pokes your side.

You turn to him, “I’ve only ever slept with one other person.”

“Whatever…” he looks into your eyes, “You’re the best I have ever had,” he tells you, reaching out to tug you closer to him.

You’re resting on your side now, held against him. His confession makes your heart soar because unlike you, he has had his fair share of sexual encounters.

“You are the best I have had,” you admit, even though you’d actively have to try to be worse than the last guy.

“Yes, I knew it,” he’s celebrating his win, you can practically feel the room get smaller with his growing ego.

“So far,” you tease.

“What?” He makes you look at him, “I’m it now, babe.”

You’re a little wordless, “What?”

“I’m it, if you need dick from now on, you come to me,” he asserts, “So delete that guys number.”

“And you?” You ask him.

He looks at you questioningly, “You kidding? Why would I want anyone else?”

His words make you melt, you don’t know what this is, if it’s a friends with benefits situation or something more but either way, you like it.

“I’ll delete his number if you play scrabble with me,” you smile mischievously at him.

He flops onto his back and groans dramatically at you, “Fine.”

Moving closer to him, you kiss his cheek, and it makes him blush. Yeah, you like whatever this is.

ᖭི༏ᖫྀ

A/N: Thank you for reading it all !!! This took me a bit to finish but I am happy with it. I struggled most with the truth or dare scene and making things flow but in the end it’s a made up scenario and we all wanna fuck Kung Lao so 🤷‍♀️ 🤷‍♀️ Anyhow, I hope you enjoyed it <333 As per usual, if you have any requests, feelings, thoughts, questions, please don’t hesitate to reach out !!! I love you all <33 For the scrabble game, cwm isn't a misspell on my part, there is a legitimate scrabble word spelt cwm and is defined as: a steep-walled semicircular basin in a mountain; may contain a lake Ax is also just a variation on the usual spelling of axe and I think that is dumb, I like scrabble and think these two words would irk me, especially if I lost because of them lmao

[arc-misadventures]

Jaune FMK: Sienna, Deery, Eve(R63 Adam)

Jaune: MFK IX

Jaune: MFK…? Naww… do I have to do this again…?

Eve: No not at all sexy!

Jaune: I don’t have to?

Eve: Nope! Because we’re doing MSB instead!

Jaune: What?!

Deery: MSB? What is that?

Eve: Jaune has three choices: He can either, Marry one of us, Smash one of us, or my personal favourite, Breed one of us~!

Deery: H-H-He has to what?!

Sienna: He can if he wants to. But, the little rabbit should understand that there are those that want him to do this to us~!

Jaune: I’m not a faunas.

Eve: But, your family breeds like one!

Jaune: Hey, that’s racist!

Jaune: …

Jaune: I think?

Deery: Kinda?

Sienna: You were compared to a rabbit, not a rabbit faunas. So I as, Sienna Khan, High Leader of the White Fang will allow it.

Jaune: O-Okay…?

Eve: So, what are you going to handsome?

Jaune: …

Jaune: Haaa…

Jaune: Let’s get this over with. I’d smash, Deery.

Deery: Me?! Why me?!

Jaune: The other two options require more… commitment to the role that I just don’t believe you are well prepared for.

Deery: That’s…! That’s fair…

Sienna: Still the same scared little, Bambi aren’t you?

Deery: Shut up…

Eve: Oh don’t worry, Deery. Hey, why don’t I join you, it will certainly make things easier for you~!

Deery: J-J-Join me…? W-W-With him?!

Sienna: Careful, Eve she might blow a gasket if you push her too hard.

Jaune: …

Jaune: Moving on. I would breed, Eve.

Eve: Fuck yeah! That’s what I like to hear!

Sienna: Care to explain why?

Jaune: Well for starters, Eve finds the notion of being bred by me hot as hell.

Eve: Fuck yeah I do!

Jaune: And, I’ll admit her constant teasing has gotten to me. I do want to… take her by the horns, and take her from behind.

Eve: And~?

Deery: There’s more?!

Jaune: I wanna see if I can… if I can… milk her…

Deery: WHAT?!

Eve: Oh gods I’m so aroused right now~!

Sienna: Hmm… that does sound like an interesting experience. Eve being a cow faunas, and all.

Jaune: And, lastly… I’d marry, Sienna.

Sienna: And, tell me: Why would you desire me as your wife~?

Jaune: Well… Muscular kitty for starters.

Eve: Eh?

Jaune: What? I like muscular woman, I think they’re hot. And, I’ve always had a thing for cat girls. Two for one combo right there.

Deery: So you would marry, Sienna just because of that?

Jaune: I said for starters! I also like her strong sense of willpower. Her unwavering determination to do what’s right by the faunas. Her commanding authority that demands respect. I also like how she purrs when I scratch her ears; it’s adorable.

Deery: Adorable?

Eve: Sienna…? Have you, and Jaune been spending time together? Alone~? Playing certain games by chance~?

Sienna: …

Sienna: We’re leaving, Jaune!

Jaune: What hey?! Put me down!

Eve: What hey?! Come back with my baby daddy you slut!

Sienna: No! He’s mine!

Deery: …

Deery: What the hell just happened?

[goldfades]

🍯 angry jack hughes (like after a rough game)

𝐭𝐨𝐮𝐠𝐡 𝐠𝐚𝐦𝐞𝐬 (𝐰𝐢𝐭𝐡 𝐠𝐨𝐨𝐝 𝐚𝐰𝐚𝐫𝐝𝐬) | jh⁸⁶

♡ ─ word count | 840

♡ ─ warnings | NSFW under the cut, read at your own discretion! rough jack, praise with a sprinkle of degradation, backshots and ummm nothing else i believe?

♡ ─ ev's notes | okay this was SOO hot but idk if i did this justice bc i wasn't in the mood to write rough smut BUT LMK YOUR THOUGHTS! also looking for a beta reader for my writing, pls lmk if ur interested!

Jack was pissed, and that was an understatement. The tension had started from the beginning, up until the final buzzer rang throughout the arena, Jack was angry. The referee was obviously trash and the players were assholes, they were aggressive and unrelenting, pushing the boundaries of a "fair game" to the breaking point. The hits were quick and hard, each one more bone-crushing than the other.

Jack felt the impact of every hit throughout his body, he knew that every hit was going to bruise. But it wasn't just the physicality of the game that got under his skin; it was the blatant disregard for the rules, the dirty plays and the cheap shots. The referee, if you could call him that, was blind to the chaos on the ice, turning a blind eye to blatant penalties and letting the game spiral out of control. Obvious slashes, cross-checks, and trips went uncalled, leaving Jack and his team alone.

But all of that didn't even matter now as he was balls-deep in you, letting out all his frustrations out on you. His hand gripped your throat as he pounded you into the mattress, the headboard slamming the wall with each relentless thrust. His head fell back as you clenched around him, his blue eyes blown out completely. Your legs hung off his shoulders as he fucked you harshly, not letting you move.

Every thrust was met with a loud moan drawing from your bruised lips, making Jack feel somehow even harder. "Fuck, baby. You feel so fucking good."

You couldn't even respond in any way, shape or form at this point, you were way too fucked out. Your whole body was hot to the touch, sweat dripping from your hairline and your cheeks a warm color. As soon as Jack walked into your home, he grabbed you and went straight to your bedroom - and you weren't complaining. Jack wasn't usually the rough type but when he was, it was absolutely mind-blowing.

Your mouth hung open as he fucked you dumb, you couldn't even think straight. Your head was spinning with desire and all you could think about was how you wanted this to last forever. Jack began to slow down and you let out a whine. "Turn around."

Jack's voice was hoarse as he spoke and even though you felt like if you were to get up, you'd fall, you still obliged. You turned around and put your face on the warm pillow, arching your back up. Jack held you by the hips and quickly slipped back in, causing another loud moan to escape your chapped lips. You were so sensitive and sore but you knew Jack wasn't in the mood to hear it so you just took his cock, like you were meant to.

"Fuck," Jack groaned as he bottomed you out. His hand found your hair and immediately pulled up, giving you a sloppy kiss before he began thrusting in and out of you. You whined into the kiss as he let go of your hair, focusing on absolutely wrecking you.

His pace was just as rough as before, except now you really had no choice but to let him. Your hands gripped the sheets beneath you as he pounded into you, trying to ground yourself somehow. "Such a slut for me, hm?"

You nodded mindlessly at his degrading words as he kept his thrusts harsh and deep. His hand found your head once again, pushing it into the pillow as he began to pound into you harder and quicker, his hips snapping against your ass. The quicker his thrusts were, the more overwhelmed you felt; you felt like you couldn't even control your own body but again, you weren't complaining.

"Jack, please." You whined out for nothing in particular as he kept fucking you into the mattress.

"Fuck, it's okay." Jack rasped out. "I got you, baby."

His sweet words in contrast with how rough he was fucking you, you felt like your legs were gonna give out any second. Jack felt himself draw closer and closer to an orgasm and he wasn't gonna stop now. His thrusts were becoming sloppy but rough as your cunt clenched around him, he couldn't help but groan. "So close."

You began to feel light-headed as he kept his pace rough, you knew that you were going to cum any second now. Jack pushed your head into the pillow as you cried out, becoming more desperate for some kind of release. "Cum for me, baby."

That was all you needed, you came around his cock as you sobbed out, your tears of pleasure drenching the pillow beneath you. Your pussy was sensitive as Jack kept pounding into you, chasing his own orgasm. "S-slow down,"

Jack ignored your pleads as he kept fucking into your cunt, your felt your body become limp in his hands. With every snap of his hips, you let out a whimper. A few more deep thrusts and Jack was cumming inside of you, slowly riding out his high.

-> make sure to check out my navigation or masterlist if you enjoyed! any interaction is greatly appreciated! <-

thank you for reading all the way through, as always ♡

[sage-green-matcha]

GIRLS NIGHT - ETHAN LANDRY 🧖‍♀️

pampering Ethan will all your friends!

Content includes: fluff!

<3

<3

<3

"Okay Tara, truth...or dare?" Anika smirked. You all sat in a circle in your room, candles, and flashlights on. The power had gone out, the storm outside only getting louder.

"Truth" she smiled, already knowing the response of everyone. "Okay, boring" Mindy smiled. "Is it true...that you like Chad?" Anika knew what she was doing when she asked, Tara's face turning red. "No, no!" she shook her head, an awkward laugh falling from her lips. "That is the biggest lie! I see how you look at him" you teased.

"That's disgusting" Mindy made a throw-up noise. "Tara, you're lying" Anika rolled her eyes. "Okay, okay I might..." "See!" You laughed, the question moving now to you.

"Okay Y/n, since you wanna play like that. Truth or dare?" You already knew what you were gonna pick. "Truth, duh" Tara smiled. "Who really gave you that hickey last week?" You paused, all the girls staring at you. "I don't like this game" you shook your head. You knew you couldn't tell them, they would tease you till your death.

"You have to answer! You made me answer" Mindy laughed at Tara's comment. "No, I can't say, I can't" Anika glared at you, Tara with a stupid smile on her lips. "Do we know them?" You nodded. "Is it a guy?" "Yea..." "Ugh, well okay the Tara and Y/n rumors are flunked" your mouth dropped. "She just said she likes Chad!!"

"Whatever! Who is it?" "I'll do a dare, I'll do a dare" you shook your head. "Okay fine. We dare you to tell us who you hooked up with" You furrowed your eyebrows. "That's not fair"

They wouldn’t leave you alone, bickering and teasing you about it till you were tired. "Okay! Fine" Before you could say anything you heard knocking on your window. You all jumped, scared at the sound. "What the fuck was that?” You shrugged. "Sounded like knocking" Tara added. The window was drenched in rain, but you could still see the light figure of Ethan, who had once again climbed up to your window. "Is that Ethan?" Mindy's eyebrows furrowed.

You sighed, walking over to the window and clicking it open. "Oh..." Mindy gasped, laughing. "The cats out of the bag guys! It was Ethan Landry...well well well. That was unexpected" she joked. "We all already knew, don't be mean Mindy. We just wanted her to admit" Tara joked and you rolled your eyes.

"Oh...hi guys" he smiled. "Okay, enough" You dragged him to the bathroom. "I'm sorry, I didn't know you had people over! You weren't answering your phone and...I got worried" You hid your smile. "Sorry, as you can see the power went out and my phone died" he placed a kiss on your lips, melting Into it.

"Sorry about Mindy, by the way" he shrugged. WYou helped him dry off, putting his sweats into the dryer and giving him one of the shirts he has left in the past.

His hair dried weirdly, and all the product washed out. It was still curly, and a bit more fluffy. "Ethan, your hair looks dumb" Mindy added. "It's so much softer, leave it like this" You ran your hands through his hair. "This was supposed to be a girl's night" Tara grumbled. "He looks like a girl" Mindy laughed.

"You guys are so mean" Ethan just rolled his eyes, shaking it off. Mindy decided she was bored, pulling out all her face masks. "Ethan, wear this one" The packaging was pink with a Hello Kitty on it. "Okay..?" He tore it open, Holding up the slimy paper.

"Ew...this goes on my face?" "mhm," you helped him unravel the slimy paper, placing it on his face.

"You look so dumb!" Mindy laughed, the mask with Hello Kitty's face on it. He did look like stupid, but he was clueless so it was kinda adorable. "Okay Mindy, enough" you rolled your eyes with a smile.

Next thing you knew the girls were giving him a "makeover" Tara held his hand, adding the pink glitter nail polish to his nails. Anika redid his hair, adding products while Mindy used a face roller on him. You found it adorable how they were pampering him, taking pictures as they focused.

“Guys, am I pretty yet?” He mumbled, frozen while they worked. “No” Mindy mumbled, Tara letting out a giggle. “You’ve always been pretty E” you couldn’t tell because of the mask on his face, but he was blushing, hard.

[meganslife]

Party Animal - P.P. x Reader

Frat!peter parker x fem!reader

summary: you see your ex at a frat party, and to avoid him wanting to talk to you, you act like you’re dating the closest guy— who just so happens to play along.

A/N: i’m on my frat peter agenda 😈

A frat party was the last thing on your mind.

Your roommate, Gwen, insisted that you go with her.

“C’mon, Y/N,” She said, “You and Flash broke up a while ago. It’s time to get back in the game!”

You and Flash did break up a month ago, yet he was still calling you every day and begging to get back together. You never let him get under your skin. College has also been stressing you out lately… maybe a party was exactly what you needed to let loose. Or find someone new.

You put on a simple outfit. Just some jeans and a tube top, and then you and Gwen were off to the party.

The house was surprisingly close, only a couple blocks away from your apartment. It was a little risky walking to a party as two women, but you knew that Gwen was strong, and so were you.

“It smells in here,” Gwen laughs, opening the door for you.

You dart to the kitchen before Gwen can even see where you’re going. You just need something to drink. Something to make all of the stress fall off your shoulders.

When you emerge from digging in the fridge for alcohol, Flash is right beside you, staring.

You look at him for a moment, before scoffing and walking away as fast as you can.

He follows close behind, and you know that.

Someone in the living room has to be fair game. Someone to pretend you’re with so Flash will get off your ass. The first person you see is a guy sitting on the couch, legs spread slightly while talking to another guy. He looks at you, and watches as you approach him.

You sit in his lap, hoping you don’t look too awkward, and that Flash sees.

“Do I know you?” The boy grins, his hand sliding across your hip.

You gulp. “I-I’m Y/N.”

“Hi, Y/N. You’re super pretty, but what are you doing in my lap?”

“I’m trying to get Flash off my ass,” You whisper into his ear. “He won’t leave me alone about getting together again. I just need him to leave me alone.”

He laughs, squeezing your hips like he’s done it a million times. “I see…”

“I told you my name. What’s yours?”

“Peter. Peter Parker,” He smiles, “I’m in the frat.”

You smile, “Okay, Peter, how many girls have you kissed tonight?”

“None. I usually don’t,” Peter smirks, looking down at your lips, “Why do you ask?”

Your hands cup his cheeks, and you nearly forget why you’re in Peter’s lap.

“Kiss me?” You ask.

Peter grins, “I usually take girls out first before I kiss them.”

“Shut up,” You laugh, “If you want to take me out then say it.”

“Am I that transparent?”

You scoff, leaning forward and kissing Peter. He kissed back like he’d been craving this.

“No, but seriously,” He murmurs between kisses, “Can I take you out?”

“Later,” you mumble, kissing down his neck.

Peter laughs, “You’re trouble.”

[violetmuses]

Play Nice - A. Aretas 🫂

Title:  Play Nice - A. Aretas 🫂❤️

Fandom: “Bad Boys” Film Universe 

Character: Armando Aretas 

Pairing: Armando Aretas + Female Reader 

Main Storyline: When Mike needs a favor, anything can happen. 

Author's Note: Here's another request! Enjoy. 💜 @vergilnelosparda

=====

2024

“Blind date? This isn't ‘95, Mike. What are you thinking?” You cracked up while shaking your head near Detective Mike Lowrey.

“All right, I'll be honest. I'm pretty sure that Armando likes you.” Mike squinted. 

“Oh, please!” You continued speaking. “I'm sorry, but even if it's true, your son doesn't really know me.” 

“Rough around the edges, but he's trying to be a good person.” Mike attempted once more. 

“Okay.” You wouldn't correct Lowrey this time and just waited. 

“Give him a chance. Please?” Mike seemed genuine. 

“Fine.” You accepted these plans for your own calendar.  

_______

When the bell chimed days later, your thoughts jumbled at first. 

You open that front door to see Armando standing on the porch and holding gorgeous flowers. 

“Aw, thank you.” You smiled because of the gesture. 

“You're welcome.” His slightly accented English beamed a little. 

For the first time, Armando reached out to hold hands and still opened the passenger door for you, guiding this moment in one car. 

Wearing this Bud Light shirt, Armando chose one trucker hat that veiled his brown eyes. Jeans clothed his legs and boots reached the pedals washe drove. 

“Where are we going?” You smiled in the passenger seat again. 

“It's a surprise.” Armando doesn't make eye contact, but when the car pulls up to this bowling alley, you smirked without hesitation. 

“Oh! Do you want me to kick your ass now?” You don't even wait for Armando to open the car door and almost jog inside. Kelly and Dorn always invited you here as well. 

“Not sure about that.” Aretas chuckled and finally met your path, ready for games. 

_____

“Shit! You're beating me.” Armando took off his trucker hat and glanced between flickered lights in the building to watch scores. 

“Told you!” You dance in terrible shoes before picking up the ball one last time and strike in return. 

“Good job, mami.” Armando slipped the nickname, but you didn't hear him yet. 

“Thank you, but I'll be fair.” Your smile reached him again. “You have the final attempt.”

“I appreciate it.” He says, waking up to the lane as planned. 

His muscular arm pulled back with strength and slammed down five pins. Not bad. 

“You're a good sport. That was really fun, so thank you.” You planned to leave with Aretas and head back home. 

______

“See you at work tomorrow?” You nodded while standing on the porch with Armando. 

“Yeah.” His voice sounded a little nervous this time around. 

“Drive safe. Thank you.” Holding the beautiful flowers, you say goodbye and watch him walk back to the car. 

Before leaving, Armando observed as you entered the house and shut that front door just in case, revving his vehicle alone. 

____

The next day, you and Armando reached your desks without really acknowledging what happened last night. It's no one's business anyhow. 

Around lunch, you found this sticky note by your computer: 

Food? - A. 🖤

“Hey! Don't leave without me.” You jumped up and grabbed your purse, nearly running again. 

“C'mon.” His rare laughter almost hits your body this time around, sounding adorable. 

_______

“So what brought us here?” The local restaurant is cute. 

“I had fun with you.” Armando fights that smile once more. 

“That's a good reason.” You nearly giggled, still enjoying this meal. 

“Look, I'm sorry for acting like a grouch when we first met.” Armando confessed. “This transition isn't easy.” 

“That wasn't just grouchy.” You then corrected Aretas. You pulled the asshole move. Mike wanted to help.” 

“Again, I'm sorry.” Armando still took the much-needed criticism. 

“I forgive you.” You accepted his words and he covered the bill.  Both of you leave side by side. 

____

Sweet moments continued. Lunch, different outings, checking on each other and more. 

When your birthday tapped calendars this year, flowers proudly reached the desk. 

"Feliz cumpleaños, cariño. Llámame alguna vez.” 

Not only had Armando sent birthday wishes, but his phone number scribbled at the bottom of this card. 

Jokingly rolling both eyes, you turn around and see Aretas moving closer. 

“Brought cupcakes for the party tonight.” Armando revealed this large box. 

“All right. Let's go, then. I guess you're not that bad.” You messed with Aretas one more time and left for the celebration at Dorn's place. 

The future looked bright again. 

[jaegeraether]

Sunsets and footballers (Part 50)

Lucy Bronze x Reader (45) & Jordan Nobbs x Leah Williamson Mini (7)

Masterlist (other parts here)

YFN was very aware of Jordan’s feelings after the bombshell admission the night before. She’d been extra quiet, deep in thought and she couldn’t blame her. She’d be doing the exact same.

Lucy was also extra-sensitive to Jordan, however that didn’t stop her from wolfing down the equivalent food for a small family.

YFN reached over and wiped some sauce off her chin with her thumb. “Slow down, Luce, the food’s not running away.”

Lucy was excited to eat, her stomach had been rumbling since that morning as they waited for Jordan to wake.

She nodded a response through a mouthful and knew she was right. It was never good to eat so quickly.

“Are you thinking a late night drive Sunday for your dinner, or will you stay in town?” YFN asked.

“I was just thinking that, actually. I’m thinking staying in London will be best.”

“My place is always free…” Lucy suggested.

“Oh, right. Thanks, Lucy. I just don’t want to be alone...”

“I agree,” YFN jumped in quickly. “So either I can stay or maybe a night with Katie and Caitlin will be a good idea?”

“Oh that’d be brilliant actually. I was also thinking of bringing Blu down.”

“Just let Carla know and drive down after training,” YFN suggested. “That’s stupid she’s making you drive all the way back for a few hours of practice.”

Jordan scoffed. “Yeah and she probably won’t even play me until late anyways.” Jordan shook her head and messaged the girls in the group chat. “Anything fun planned for Barca? You’d be racking up those air miles now!”

YFN laughed. “Oh yeah, I’m collecting those points. Um, I think the team will be celebrating after El Clasico…” she looked to Lucy who nodded, unsurprisingly mouth full. “And also it’s Ridley’s birthday so I was going to show my face there.”

“It’s Ridley’s birthday?!” Lucy asked, surprised.

“Sunday night, yeah.”

“Is she doing anything for it?”

“Oh, it’s Ridley. She’ll have Javier’s place absolutely packed to the brim with people. All the bells and whistles and celebrating.”

Lucy gave an impressed look and then a shrug. “We can stop by.”

“Just for a hello,” YFN reassured and kissed her on the cheek.

“I should warn Alexia…”

“To avoid Javier’s?”

“Or to go…her choice.”

“Isn’t she going to be at the El Clasico celebrations?”

“Probably but not for long, she’s still injured from the last game so won’t be playing. I doubt she’ll want to celebrate too long. What time is Ridley’s party?”

“Oh her parties are always 24 hours long minimum…” Lucy’s eyes widened and Jordan’s mouth dropped open. “It’s a thing,” she shrugged. She was used to it.

“Okay…well Barca celebrations won’t be until later that night. Alexia will be coming over to mine to get dressed.”

“Oh?”

“Yeah…I think she was hoping to talk to you a bit more about Ridley…”

“She is complicated…” YFN admitted.

“And you’re the only one who understands her.”

“Fair. Okay well I’m covering the Villa, Hammers game so I’m hoping to catch that 7:00pm flight but it’ll be close.”

“Need a lift?” Jordan asked.

“Yes, please. Mind driving me to the game also so I can leave Miles at Lucy’s?”

“Of course, mate!”

“So are you staying here or Katie and Caitlin’s tonight?”

“Um… I was thinking here tonight with you and theirs tomorrow…” she checked her phone. “Yeah, they’re happy for me to stay. I’ll leave Blu here and pick him up after the game.”

“How long since Leah’s seen Blu?”

Jordan paused. YFN knew Leah was close to him too. She wondered how long it had been since she’d seen him. “A while,” Jordan sighed. “I think I should cancel the dinner.”

“Not ready to talk?”

“I don’t think so. I just want a hug.”

YFN understood better than anyone.

Jordan sighed. “It’s stupid.”

“It’s not,” Lucy said before YFN could. “I’d fly across the world just to hug YFN.”

YFN softened and reached over to squeeze Lucy’s thigh, resting her hand here. She wouldn’t even attempt to hold her hand, they were too full of food.

“Really?”

Lucy nodded. “100%.”

“Would you like me to talk to her?” YFN asked. She didn’t mind being an intermediary if it meant they had time together to heal.

“Please…”

YFN messaged Leah and put her phone down to take a sip of her apple juice. Her phone buzzed. Jeez, she was quick.

Leah: That’s perfectly fine, we can still have dinner. I won’t talk, I know she’s not ready for that. Will she come over to mine for dinner?

YFN relayed the message and watched Jordan relax when she realised Leah was happy just to have her around.

“She’s not the best cook… she hates it.”

YFN: Jordan is confused as you’re quote “not the best cook.”

Leah: I hate it, but I want us to have our space away from people and I want to try for her. I’ve been learning.

YFN’s heart softened more as she told Jordan. Jordan hesitated, her lower lip trembling. “Can I bring Blu?”

YFN smiled, knowing her suggestion was taken on board. She asked Leah.

Leah: Yes, of course! I miss him. Tell her I’ll be ready anytime from 6pm onwards. The door will be unlocked. Thanks for this, YFN. I really appreciate it.

YFN: You’re welcome, Leah. You both just need the opportunity to heal and I want to help with that. I know you know this already but please step carefully. She’s fragile at the moment and doesn’t know what to think. All she knows is that she wants to be around you.

Leah: I’ll respect her space, I promise. The last thing I want to do is scare her away.

YFN replied with a heart and put her phone back on the table.

“She’ll be ready from 6pm onwards and the door’s going to be unlocked. She’s going to give you your space, Dory,” she gave her a reassuring look and felt Lucy squeeze her hand on her thigh supportively.

Jordan nodded and took a nervous sip of her coffee just as her alarm went off. “Time to go!”

She gave the pair hugs and a good luck for El Clasico, Lucy returning the well wishes. They watched her drive off, and YFN would have been more worried if she didn’t know she’d be seeing her that night.

YFN took Lucy into the new office and showed her around, the footballer being immediately swamped as they arrived. Most tried to be polite and give space, but they were all football fanatics after all. She showed her the conference rooms, main office space and her little desk. She had an office but the idea of using it still felt pretentious. She wanted to feel like she’d earnt it, which she hadn’t just yet. Lucy tried to convince her otherwise.

“You’ve done so much…and you are the boss.”

“I haven’t done enough, not yet.”

“Are you feeling guilty because you’re in Spain so much with me?”

She bit her lip. Lucy understood. That was one of her main reasons of feeling like she hadn’t earnt it. “I’ll move in there when we expand next…”

Lucy put a hand on her waist, still aware they were surrounded by most of the staff. “How about you make it a reward for covering your first round of International women’s games?”

YFN smiled, impressed. She hadn’t thought of that. She put her hand out and Lucy took it, shaking. “Agreed.”

Lucy wandered around talking to people and also spent time watching as YFN worked for a few hours. She loved watching her gather everyone and use them so efficiently and to the best of their abilities. She boosted the morale of her team and made sure they were all completely confident about their roles and what was required of them. Only when she was happy with the progress did they say their goodbyes. On the way out, YFN stopped her.

“Oh…Luce…could you sign the wall?”

Lucy tilted her head in question.

“It’s a new thing I want to start. I’ve had this wall painted our brand of purple and I was thinking it would be a cool idea if we had footballers sign it. I’m hoping to have the wall completely covered… I think it’ll be great motivation for the team to look at.”

Lucy nodded slowly, unable to stop her heart loving her even more. “It’s a great idea, little one.”

YFN smiled and handed her a yellow marker. “Anywhere you want… just leave room for other people.”

Lucy looked at the massive purple wall in front of her and laughed. “I think I can manage.”

“Oh and write your name next to it also, please.”

YFN watched as Lucy did a neat signature with her number 2 for England in it. She wrote her name under it and stepped back, grinning. She was the first, just as YFN had wanted her to be. Lucy loved being first.

Their drive to the airport was full of banter and flirting, both planning another facetime with YFN’s nan and brother, and another catch up with Lucy’s family during the next international break in two weeks’ time. It was all so… natural. The worst part was that they kept having to say goodbye to each other. It was the exact reason that her main goal to aim for was to have Lumos running seamlessly so she could move abroad to Spain to be with Lucy and zoom most of the meetings she needed to. She’d need to build up supervisors and the company first, of course, and she talked to Lucy about that. Lucy was honest about not knowing where she’d end up, and if she was going to stay at Barca. Regardless of where she went, though, YFN’s goal wouldn’t change. It would give her more freedom to work abroad and spend more time with Lucy.

They parked up at the airport and checked Lucy’s bag in. They were running on time; her flight wasn’t for another hour but she needed to get through security.

YFN looked up at Lucy, not able to stop the melancholy look on her face. Lucy stroked her fingers down her cheek, brushing over one of her dimples.

“My plane lands at 10:30pm your time,” YFN reminded her.

“I’ll be there.”

“Promise?”

Lucy nodded. “That’s dinner time in Barca, little one. Alexia and I will still be at mine getting ready.”

“Okay,” she whispered and reached up on her toes to plant the softest of kisses on Lucy’s lips as a thank you. She stepped back and saw Lucy’s eyes start to darken. She bit her lip which caught all of her girlfriend’s attention as she freed it with her thumb. Out of the blue, Lucy grabbed her arm and dragged her towards a single bathroom.

“Luce..?”

“I need you.”

YFN didn’t argue. She needed her just as bad. She let herself be tugged along, her body tingling with excitement.

“This is what you get for bringing up babies,” Lucy said as she locked the bathroom door behind them and guided her backwards, both heaving breathing as Lucy dropped her backpack.

“L…Luce?”

“Shh, shh, it’s okay, I’ll be quick,” Lucy said as she pressed her against the wall, her mouth coming down hot and needily. YFN’s hands fisted Lucy’s hair, essentially ruining that perfect low bun of hers. At first Lucy used her hands to tilt YFN’s head where she wanted it for their mouths desperately crashing against one another; Lucy’s tongue finding YFN’s quickly and teasing it. Then, her hands moved down to her pants. Without their mouths breaking apart, Lucy slipped her thumbs under her pants and underwear hanging from her hips and shoved them down just far enough to slip her hand down and feel her. God, she was desperate just to feel her. She looked so sexy in her dress at the awards. All mad at Mark. All protective of her friends and working to help them resolve their issues. Lucy had to cling to all of the strength she had just to not drag her into the bathrooms at the awards and fuck her there. People may have heard but for the first time in her life, she didn’t care. She wanted everyone to know she was hers.

“Fuck, how are you so wet?” She moaned into her mouth as she felt the patch in her underwear against her knuckles and the wet warmth of her little Australian on her fingertips as she teased her clit.

YFN pulled away from Lucy’s mouth. “Maybe it has something to do with our shower this morning.. or the breakfast we had.. or watching you get fan-girled over by my staff in our office. Or maybe it’s because it’s just you, and I love you.” She slipped a hand down Lucy’s pants and found her also in a similar state. She gave a victorious grin.

Lucy didn’t like losing. She pushed two fingers into her little Australian and watched as her body jerked, her mouth opening and eyes shutting as she whimpered. She pulled YFN’s hand out of her pants. “Not me, just you.”

Her fingers began moving, YFN unable to stop her hips rocking into Lucy’s hand as she fingered her. Her fingers gripped tighter in her hair and she pulled Lucy’s head as close as she could get her, until it was buried in her neck. She brought her lips to Lucy’s ear and let her pleasure be heard there; if Lucy wasn’t going to touch her, then YFN was sure as hell going to make sure she heard her. She wanted her own body wet and needy for the plane ride home as a reminder of her.

“F…fuck.. argh fuck Luce you’re so good to me,” she whimpered in her ear. A shiver ran up Lucy’s spine, YFN able to feel it. The footballer used her spare hand to push her pants and underwear down further until they’d slipped to the floor so she was fully naked from the waist down. YFN stepped one foot out to widen Lucy’s access, Lucy going a step further and bending to grab behind her knee and hoist it up over her hip. The wet sound of her fingers pumping in and out of her became louder that way and YFN whined as she became even more worked up, her body needing Lucy the more she had of her.

“I bet you taste so good,” Lucy growled into her neck.

YFN couldn’t help but be turned on at the sight of Lucy’s bicep flexing as she fucked her fingers in and out of her, and she grabbed it, holding onto that large muscle like a lifeline. Her nipples were hard and rubbing up against Lucy’s chest, her breathing ragged as she came close.

“You just had to look fucking gorgeous last night in that dress, didn’t you?”

YFN only responded in moans and whimpers at the feel of Lucy’s fingers curling up into that sensitive spot inside her.

“I didn’t like people staring at you,” she growled again as she nipped her ear.

“I…didn’t like people staring at you, Luce…” she admitted in between whines.

“You want my babies, huh?” Lucy asked dominantly.

YFN shivered as she remembered their conversation that morning in the shower. “L…Luce.. too soon.. ah fuck yes… too soon to be talking a….bout babies.”

Lucy scoffed against her jaw. “We both know how this ends, little one. With you and me. So let’s just start our future now, yeah?” She bit her jaw.

It was YFN’s turn to shiver at those words. Lucy was right, they were both old enough and had been through enough heartbreak and relationships to know that this is how they would end. Together.

“Y…yes…!”

Lucy was unsure whether she was whimpering at the feeling or at what she said. “Yes what?”

“Yes I w..want to have your babies, Luce… argh fuck yes please don’t stop….argh…of course I do…”

Lucy groaned into her neck at that admission. “Come, little one, I want to feel you come around my fingers.”

She sped up and at those words it didn’t take long for YFN’s body to find its release, clenching up around Lucy’s fingers so tight that the footballer moaned at the feeling that she’d just fucked into her. Her breaths stopped as she came, her fingernails digging into Lucy’s skin as that bliss overwhelmed her into state of peace.

She slumped again Lucy with a heavy exhale, a little whimper escaping her lips as she removed her fingers and brought them to her mouth, sucking them clean.

“Yeah... you taste good,” she confirmed proudly.

YFN scoffed as she did what she always did; repay kindness with kindness. She kissed Lucy’s face wherever she could reach her, little butterfly kisses to show her love and gratitude for her little desperate orgasm. Lucy hummed happily, eyes closed and accepted, manoeuvring her face so she could reach more spots. Lucy broke her gesture by kissing her on the lips. YFN leaned into the kiss for a second until she pulled back, Lucy noticing a blushing creeping up her cheeks.

“Um… I’m kind of half-naked Luce and… it’s getting cold..”

Lucy chuckled. “The sexiest Winnie the Pooh I’ve ever seen.”

That made YFN blush harder but actually laugh at the similarity as Lucy squatted down to guide her foot back into her pants and underwear and pull them up.

YFN stopped her before they were up all of the way.

“Little one?”

“I need to pee..”

Lucy chucked. “You should always pee after sex. So go.”

YFN bit her lip.

“Oh come on, I’ve had my tongue inside of you before. Pee. Now.”

YFN shuffled over to pee and clean her excited self up while Lucy washed her hands in the sink and fixed her hair.

“Feel better?”

“Much,” she admitted and washed her hands before wrapping her arms around Lucy and sighing into her collarbone. She didn’t want her to go. She never did. “Are you sure I can’t make you feel good too?”

“No, little one, that will hold me over until tomorrow night.”

“Oh, planning on getting lucky tomorrow, are you?”

“After we win El Clasico? Of course.”

YFN slapped her back lightly. “Cocky.”

“You love me cocky,” she whispered and kissed her.

They said their goodbyes just before the security screening, the pair far too used to airport goodbyes. Luckily it wasn’t for long. She watched Lucy walk away, her black backpack hitched on her muscular shoulders, her thick clear framed glasses hidden beneath her cap and hoody. She tilted her head and couldn’t help staring at Lucy’s ass in those track pants she had on so she’d be comfy for the flight. As if she knew, Lucy turned as she walked, smiling when she realised her hunch was right and giving her a wink. YFN had to squeeze her fists tight to stop her from running and wrapping herself around her. One day. Fuck. How had they ever lasted longer?

[pfhwrittes]

retail hell au again because why not. so imagine with me that 141 fellas find you after a miserable customer has made you cry.

warnings: reader!character is experiencing the aftermath of a panic attack/distressing emotions when she’s approached by the boys, nothing explicitly stated but she’s feeling a bit vulnerable.

fem!reader and the use of gendered pet names (hen, love) and use of the word cunt as an insult to describe a customer.

also apologies, i’m english and my grasp on scottish slang/scots has mostly been informed by the wonderful show Still Game which is distinctly glaswegian in flavour and various scottish twitter posts.

so you’re hiding out in the smoking area (lmao smoking area, okay let’s be honest it’s where a bucket filled with sand has been dumped near an ex-display bench about idk 20 feet from the customer entrance) because you just need 5 fucking minutes to compose yourself…

gaz is actually coming back from his lunch break and spots you hunched up on the bench in a way that looks truly uncomfortable. he carefully sits next to you and offers a soft smile when you look over at him. “bad customer?” he’s gentle when he asks and doesn’t make a fuss when you make a truly gross sniffling noise and wipe at your eyes. “want a hug?” you shake your head no and hunch in tighter on yourself. “want a milkshake?” you shrug and he passes over a strawberry milkshake. surprisingly he doesn’t say anything and let’s you drink in peace. you like gaz, he’s always friendly and warm when you interact briefly on the shop floor. he always seems to know what to say or do to get the best out of you and everyone else around him. eventually you check your phone and see it’s been 10 minutes since you left the customer service desk with tears in your eyes and lump burning your throat. embarrassment and residual anxiety washes through you when you recall how you’d all but fled to the safety of the smoker’s bench despite not smoking yourself. gaz catches your shudder when you check the time and knocks his shoulder into yours gently. “don’t worry, i’ll let price know you need a few more minutes, alright?” gaz gets up and heads inside the building, you know he’ll speak to price so you unfurl a little bit and chew on the straw of your milkshake.

soap and simon find you next. soap’s chattering away about the most recent delivery as they both approach your bench. simon stops dead a respectable three feet away but soap throws himself onto the bench bumping his knee into yours “what’s the matter wi’ you then, hen? you’ve a face like a smacked arse”. you shift away from soap, usually you don’t mind his directness but it’s just rubbing you the wrong way right now. you’re still feeling raw and a bit sick from finishing gaz’s milkshake and lingering anxiety. “fucks sake johnny, leave ‘er alone.” simon grumbles and fishes a packet of cigarettes out of his pocket. “how? am just askin’ what’s the matter!” soap’s hands swat the air near your face and you shuffle further along the bench to avoid being hit in the nose in his agitation. “johnny.” simon snaps and soap huffs and folds his arms across his chest. it’s quiet amongst the three of you while simon taps out a cigarette and pats down his pockets looking for a lighter. soap shoots a wink at you and starts playing with a lighter that apparently has just appeared from thin air. “give me my lighter back johnny.” “gies a cigarette an’ i’ll trade it.” “no.” “c’mon simon! wan little cigarette.” “fuck off.” “awright then you miserable bastard.” you shake your head at their bickering and hold out your hand. soap pouts but drops it into your open palm. you lob the lighter in a poor underhand throw to simon who plucks it out of the air easily and nods in appreciation. “aw c’mon hen, that’s no’ playin’ fair!” soap whines and knocks his knee into yours “i thought i was your favourite.” “favourite pain in the arse.” is simon’s dry response around the lit cigarette and you crack a wobbly smile. “there she is! didn’t i tell you si?” soap’s grin is blinding “i knew we could cheer her up!” your wobbly smile starts to resemble more of its usual cheer when you catch simon’s eye roll directed at soap. you open your mouth maybe to defend soap or maybe to provoke him, you haven’t quite decided, when a pointed throat clearing catches your trio’s attention. your smile drops off your face and the anxiety that had started to quiet down in the face of johnny’s cheerfulness rises again in your belly because price is aiming a stern look towards the three of you from only six feet away.

price gently sits next to you on the bench when you’re certain simon and johnny are back inside. johnny squawking about the injustice of having his break cut short and simon calling him an idiot in response as they both disappear through the doors. you open your mouth to apologise for skiving off and offer any reason or explanation that will help your case but your teeth click shut when price holds out a palm to forestall your inevitable word vomit. “i don’t want to hear it, love.” price’s tone isn’t unkind, he’s just shooting straight with you, it’s something you quite admire about him really. “that customer was a cunt quite frankly and i’m proud of you for handling her the way you did.” the praise creates a small glow in your chest and burns away the last of your dread. “but, a word of advice, as the duty manager for today?” price offers a small encouraging smile so you nod. “you’re not paid enough to put up with that shit, so don’t.” you grimace and blow out a breath, you want to argue, maybe even defend yourself and explain that it’s fine really that’s just how retail is. price chuckles “no love, listen. you aren’t paid enough, but i am. so next time it happens, send ‘em my way alright?” price offers another smile when you nod in agreement before pushing himself off the bench. “now, c’mon. i’ve got stock that needs counting down the plumbing aisle and you can give me a hand. no more talking to muppets on the customer service desk today.” you follow price back into the store feeling much better than you did twenty five minutes ago.

the rest of your shift passes by easily enough and you make a mental note to buy gaz a milkshake as a thank you when he shoots you a friendly smile as you pass him on your way out the store on your lunch.

[a-whisper-in-the-forest]

A game of darts

Part 1 ( Disgraced apple pie) Part 3 (A deal)

Villain turns the page of their book. They lean back against the couch in the living room and start reading the first sentence on the page. “Damn it!” the Villains’ Sidekick yells. “How can I lose again!” Other Villain laughs. “Maybe start by not challenging someone with perfect aim as a superpower.”

“I'm not even using my power, Sidekick here is just horrible at darts.” Assassin answers, pulling their dart out of the board. “Bullshit. You are using your power.” Sidekick huffs as they sit down next to Villain on the couch. “Come on, I'll make it fair. One more game,” Assassin says as they pull Sidekick back out of the couch. “Okay, okay,” Sidekick sighs “And I'm winning this time.”

Assassin starts by throwing the first dart, conveniently landing it in the triple 20. And so does the second. And the third. “One hundred and eiightyyy.” Other Villain yells like the presenter of the dart games on TV. “Stop you using your power!” Sidekick argues with Assassin. “I'm not,” Assassin says as they plop down on the couch next to Villain. “What are you reading?” they say as they put their head on Villain's shoulder. Villain sighs. They should've stayed in their room. Way less distractions there. But then they remember what Supervillain said. ‘You have to socialize with your siblings.’ They weren't real siblings, but that's what Supervillain liked to call them. “A book on the history of vikings,” Villain answers. “Sounds interesting.” Assassin answers, snuggling closer to Villain.

“Ha! Suck it, Assassin!” Sidekick yells. Both Villain and Assassin look up at the board. They landed two darts in the triple 20 and one in the 20. “I still have more points” Assassin answers with a smug grin on their face. “Not for long!” they say letting themselves fall onto the couch, replacing Assassin who is getting ready to throw again. Villain really needed to find another reading spot. “It's not fair, Villain. They keep using their power.” Sidekick pouts next to them. It's moments like these where Villain notices how young they actually are.

Maybe they could lend Sidekick a hand. It's handy that the room is lit by a few lamps instead of the big light. Makes it easier to play with a shadow.

“How the hell?!” Assassin's last dart lands in the 1. “What did you do?” Assassin almost flies towards Sidekick. “I did nothing. Why are you so angry? People can miss sometimes…or were you using your power?” Sidekick answers smiling. Villain can't help but smile a little. “Oh, Villain, you absolute assh-”

They were stopped by the sound of laughter. And next a thud as Other Villain falls off their chair. “Oh, Assassin. You should see your face.” Other Villain's eyes begin to water. “Shut up,” Assassin says with venom in their voice. Oh, Assassin and their short fuse, Villain thinks. Right at that moment their phone vibrates.

‘Feed the hero Sidekick ’ appears on the screen. Right. Villain stands up to go to the basement. “Villain, don't leave me alone with Assassin. They're going to kill me,” Sidekick says, grabbing Villain's arm, slightly panicked. “You wanted help, now live with the consequences,” Villain says smiling. Assassin is never going to actually kill them, so Villain doesn't feel too bad leaving them.

They open the door to the basement, warm plate in hand. The Sidekick immediately crawls to the corner of the room. “We're done with that. I am just here to give you some food,” Villain says, trying to sound somewhat comforting. Unfortunately, the stone cold voice they had to learn themselves to speak with, comes out. They place the plate on the ground in front of the sidekick. The Sidekick, however, doesn't make a single move towards the food. “When am I going home?” Sidekick's voice sounds raspy and doesn't sound louder than a whisper. “In a couple of hours, just hang on a little longer,” Villain says. Hero's not going to be happy with them. What does it matter? They're just a hero…

Right?

“Okay…” Sidekick says shakingly. They drag the plate closer and start to eat. Villain sighs. They really hated this. Punch a hero? Sure. Kill an enemy? Fine. Torture a defenseless kid? No, that doesn't sit right with them. But every time they wanted to rebel, to fight the orders, Supervillain would push it out of their mind. They didn't want Supervillain to take control of them again. To make them do things they didn't want to do. Whenever Supervillain did take control, it was like they were a programmed robot. They were still there, but it wasn't them that was moving their body.

They despised it.

By the time they finished their train of thought, Sidekick had finished their meal. Without saying anything, they picked up the plate and went back upstairs, leaving the trembling Sidekick behind.

A few minutes later Villain puts the dirty plate in the soapy water. When they entered the kitchen to put the dirty plate away, they had noticed the pile of dishes. Having nothing better to do, they decided to wash them. They were only a few plates away from finishing when they felt two arms wrap around them from behind and hug them. “Assassin nearly murdered me with a pillow,” the villainous Sidekick mumbles into Villain's shoulder. Villain hums in response. They had a feeling Assassin would do something like that. “Did they eat?” Sidekick asks innocently like the young teenager they are. Again, Villain hums. “Do you mind if I stay here for a minute? I need a hug,” Villain can hear the Sidekick's muffled sniffs. They slowly turn around to face Sidekick. “Another nightmare?” Villain asks quietly. The Sidekick only nods and hugs the Villain even harder, letting the tears flow freely. Although they don't like to admit it, they have a soft spot for Sidekick. Ever since Sidekick was sent on their first mission, Villain has been their caretaker. Helping them through tough nights, giving them fighting tips, teaching them how to do basic stuff like washing their clothes…

“How about you go to your room already? I'll come in a minute.” Villain says to the now calmed down Sidekick. “O-okay,” Sidekick tries to say between the sobs. All they had to do now was finish the dishes and drop off the Hero's sidekick. They hope Hero won't make this too much of a hassle.

~

“Have you gone insane?!” Other Hero yells out in Hero's tiny office. “No, but it is the only way to get them back!” Hero answers, pulling the USB out of the computer. “And lower your voice.”

“You're about to give super secret information to THE supervillain. The Agency is going to literally kill you,” Other Hero says panicked. “Don't worry about that. I used some programs so they will never know it was me.” Hero says, trying to calm down Other Hero. “I hope they don't find out.” they respond, still not convinced. To them it seems stupid to give up such important information for a Sidekick. What Oher Hero doesn't know is that Hero is not just bringing back Sidekick, they also want to find out why Villain would do something so cruel while clearly being so against it.

Next part

Hi! Wow, it took me long to most part 4. I'm very sorry about that. My exams are starting soon so I'm probably going to post even less frequent ( didn't know that was even possible tbh.) Anyway, I hope you enjoyed this part. It's a bit all over the place but it hopefully gives a little insight to the future parts.

(Also, every time i get a notification somebody commented, reposted or liked something, i get so excited. I am honestly suprised people like what i write.) (I'll stop ranting now)

[nyoomfruits]

post brazil gp landoscar fluff because i feel like we all need some of that rn lmao

Lando doesn’t expect Oscar to follow him, after.

Sure, they’ve been having this thing going between them for a few weeks now, a thing that started with a frantic make out session after the wild ride that was the Singapore Grand Prix and continued all throughout the shared podiums in Japan and Qatar, but still.

To be fair, when the US GP had happened, Lando hadn’t really expected Oscar to follow him either. DNF’s always sucked, and Lando usually liked to deal with them by rolling himself into a blanket and eating a pint of ice cream and wallowing over all the things that could have gone different, that should have gone different, that he could have done different.

But Oscar had followed him anyway.

After Mexico, too, which wasn’t bad but wasn’t good either, but Oscar was still there, tight smile and tired eyes, following Lando to his hotel room and kissing him softly the second the door closed behind them.

Still, after all of that, Lando doesn’t expect Oscar to follow him. Not this time. Not after that disaster of a first lap. Not after Oscar had to watch Lando take second place even though he had to spend the entire race playing a game of catch up he was never going to win.

And yet, when Lando gathers the last things in his drivers room, tries to shove everything back into his bag with a franticness that only ever comes with a great desire to go back to the hotel and sleep, Oscar appears in the doorway. He looks a little tired, a little sad, a little withdrawn, but when Lando looks up, meets his eyes, a smile takes over his face. It’s a soft, gentle little thing he only ever seems to save for Lando. “Hey,” he says, leaning against the doorjamb. “Ready to go?”

Lando pauses, gives Oscar a calculating look. “You don’t. We don’t have to,” he says, eventually. He’s not. He wants to. He always wants to. He thinks about that sometimes, how much he always seems to want so much from Oscar. How Oscar always seems so willing to give.

“Okay,” Oscar says, brows pinching together. “But I want to.”

The ‘Do you?’ hangs unspoken between them.

“It’s just,” Lando starts, searching for words. “You had a shit race. I get it if you want some time alone. Or something. You don’t owe me anything. I’d get it.” He’s been there. He’d get it, if Oscar just wanted to be left alone for a bit.

Oscar hums, pushes himself off the doorjamb to make his way over to Lando. “I know. Thank you,” he says, taking Lando’s face in his hands and pressing a kiss to his forehead, leaving Lando a little flabbergasted and a lot flustered. “You’re sweet. But I would really just like to go home.” He takes Lando’s bag from his hands, then, slings it over his own shoulder and glances around the room to see if they’re forgetting anything.

Lando unfreezes when Oscar says. “Lando? You coming?” From where he’s standing in the doorway again, and hurries after Oscar, hoping he can blame the flush on his cheeks on the exertion of the race.

It isn’t until later, much later, when he lies in his bed in his hotel room, listening to Oscar’s soft even breath as he sleeps peacefully next to Lando, that he realizes.

When Oscar had said home.

He’d meant Lando.