After Midnight
Caroline (KK) Harvey x Fem!Reader
—-
synopsis: flirting with the star hockey player at the frat party isn’t what you would normally do, but it’s after midnight and something about the lights is making everything a little hazy.
feel free to send requests!!! 🫶🫶
a/n: GUYS PLEASE. PLEASE IGNORE THIS. i’m sorry i’ve betrayed all my morals… but i cant sit idly by while my fellow kk lovers suffer… i hope you all enjoy!!
After Midnight - Chappell Roan
warnings: not proofread!!!, ALCOHOL!!! we are in a FRAT people!!, some swearing ofc, super brief barely there mentions of violence and such, kk is taller than reader by like an inch suck it idc i do what i want, super brief mention of y/n having hair (length unspecified), idk like a bit of kissing and some somewhat suggestive thoughts… y/n is a freak 💔, i’ve never flirted with anyone before how do you do this, so probs inaccurate, i don’t know anything about hockey just prefacing this, i also don’t know how college works rip, as chappell roan said: “i love a little drama, let’s start a bar fight, cause everything good happens after midnight”
—-
“Shit, babe, you look fuckin’ hot.”
This entire night is almost painful for you. Stepping out of your comfort zone on any level is always an adjustment, but trading your early nights in with homework and Netflix for a sexy dress showing everything in all the right and wrong places- is especially hard.
You almost cringe touching the velvet fabric of your revealing dark red shirt, staring at someone in the mirror you don’t even recognize.
“Jackie,” you mumble to your best friend and roommate, “I think it’s.. too much.”
Jackie tilts her head to the side, short dirty blonde hair swaying with the movement. She’s only humoring you, you can tell. “Nope. Perfect.”
You look at the pictures stuck in the slats of the mirror. Pictures of you, Jackie, and the other girl in your trio, Tyla, faces pressed together in bright smiles from various adventures from your freshman year at college.
It was such a relief when Jackie was the sweetest girl and an amazing person to share a dorm with, but when she brought along her best friend Tyla from a few doors down- the three of you fell into a quick and beautiful friendship, like the ones in the movies.
Jackie and Tyla were definitely more on the party girl side than the study girl side, but that was what was so great about your friendship. You reminded them that they did in fact have homework, and they pushed you to do things like this every once in a while.
This was the first time you had ever suggested it. Midterms were over- it would be wrong to not celebrate. To breathe in the few seconds you had left as a freshman, before it all got turned up again for sophomore year.
“Okay,” Jackie breathes, clasping her hands in front of her chest. “Take a deep breath, babe. The fit is a lot, yes, but it’s gorgeous. I mean, damn, where have you been hiding that ass?”
You bite your lip, eyes tearing away from the pictures, meeting Jackie’s eyes in the reflection.
“My ass does look really good,” you concede.
“Hell yeah it does!” Jackie shouts, smiling brightly. “Don’t be nervous, okay? It’s just some random frat party. We can go sit outside if it gets too much.”
It’s break. It’s Friday night. You look good, however uncomfortable you are.
“Fuck,” you mumble. “Yeah. Yeah, I’m good.”
“You’re good?”
“I’m just gonna do a few shots when we get there.”
“That’s my girl.”
Jackie thinks for a moment. “Besides, I think it’s a party to celebrate the girls hockey team winning a game, or something like that. The attention is gonna be far away from you. But…”
She trails off, picking at a piece of thread hanging from her comforter.
“What?” You ask, heart jumping to your throat in fear.
“Dylan might be there,” she shrugs.
Ugh.
Dylan.
Dylan wasn’t even that big of a problem, just a boy you had overzealously dated right when you got to college, when you were adjusting and still kind of lonely, only to find out his obsessive, stalker-ish personality was literal hell to be in a relationship with.
After maybe a week of constant love-bombing and clinginess, you broke up with him- and he tried for literal months to get your attention before he finally seemed to give up.
Once in a while, you’d see him at these parties, and he’d stare at you in a way that was probably supposed to be sexy, but was only weird and uncomfortable.
“Who gives a fuck about him?” You ask, your own surprise reflected in Jackie’s face.
“Damn, girl. Yeah, you’re fuckin’ right. Who gives a fuck about his sad ass?”
“I don’t,” you scoff, refusing to let him ruin your night.
The bathroom door slams open suddenly, revealing Tyla in an even more revealing black dress. Skin tight with cut outs showing her dark skin.
“Jesus Christ, I pity the other girls at that bar.” Tyla runs her hands down her sides, smiling brightly in a way that can only be joking.
And you laugh, and you laugh when she softly bumps you away from the mirror and admires herself even more.
—-
Because of this rash decision to go out, Tyla hadn’t done her usual shopping for the pregame so you were forced to go to the party early- which Tyla actually groaned at and complained about how “embarrassing” it was. But after a few shots, that embarrassment fell away and she was back to being the funny, confident girl you knew her as.
You talked amongst the three of you, and with the two boys who were acting as bartenders, until more and more people slowly started filing in and the sky got dark. It was probably close to 10pm by the time the party really got busy, and those first two hours faded into a montage of alcohol stinging your throat and the sounds of your best friends laughing.
When the hockey team finally arrived, you were sitting on a couch with your girls, Tyla talking in this played-up sensual voice to a random boy who had taken an interest in her, while you and Jackie were busy scouting out the new arrivals and the different kinds of alcohol they placed on the table.
Even if Jackie hadn’t off-handedly mentioned it earlier, you quickly would have found out who this party was for. A large group of girls walked into the party, immediately met with cheers and shots, swarmed with alcohol and congratulations.
Some guy, probably one who actually lived in this house, whipped out a shitty megaphone and shouted their arrival, but it wasn’t even that loud.
Even you, however studious you were, knew about the girl’s hockey team. A bunch of them had played on the Olympic team a few years ago, and all the students of this D1 school were generally pretty proud that the Wisconsin team had won the most national championships.
Most of them were wearing their jerseys, but a few had dressed up. The girl’s hockey team was probably the hottest, most talented group of girls to ever be within 100 feet of you.
It was almost unfair how all of them were so beautiful and so talented, but you suppose that the rigorous workout schedules of Olympic and national athletes didn’t leave a lot of room for anything other than a fuck ton of muscles.
God, half of them towered over you and all of them could probably break your wrist with just a flick.
It was impressive.
What was most impressive, though, is the way the infamous Caroline Harvey walked in carrying about 27 cases of beer, which must have weighed as much as this fucking house, and effortlessly set it all on the ground beside the table full of red solo cups, chasers, and bottles of vodka.
Cheers rang out and people scrambled towards it, ripping the cardboard boxes open greedily and opening them just as fast.
You watched, hiding your parted mouth with your hand, as Caroline accepted an open beer from someone, cheers with a few of her teammates and drank a long sip. When she was done, she laughed and lifted her shirt to her mouth to wipe off some stray liquid, a movement that let just a sliver of her toned abs peek through.
“Holy fuck,” you whispered, quickly looking to the floor and deciding hockey was your new favorite sport.
You knew her from around campus, you both liked to study in the library at the same time- around 3 on Tuesdays and Thursdays, and it became kind of tradition to just stare at her for a few minutes in between sections of your work. Almost like some weird little reward. You did feel kind of bad about it, but fuck, there was no way you could stop.
Besides, it’s not like she noticed.
You always sat on opposite sides of the library, and she never once even looked in your direction. What Caroline didn’t know wouldn’t hurt her, and you never see her unless it’s at the library or in passing at parties. But, God, doesn’t it feel good to just relish in how beautiful she is and stare for just a bit.
“Y/N, babe.”
Jackie knocked herself into you, her knees tucked up to her chest, some sort of a smile on her face.
“What’cha doin’?” She asks, smiling in a way that can only be described as evil. “Starin’? Hockey player pique your interest, huh?”
“No,” you say, forcing a laugh into your voice and rolling your eyes. “Just lookin’ at all the commotion.”
You’re trying to sound as nonchalant as possible, but now that Jackie’s mentioned it- those abs did pique your interest. And now they came flashing behind your eyes every time you blink.
“Oh, my God, I think I’m in heat,” you mumble, slightly to yourself and slightly to Jackie.
She wraps a lazy arm around your shoulder, letting out a sigh. “Oh, sweet girl, don’t worry. I’ve got you. Which one is it?”
“Caroline,” you mumble, so quiet and so sudden before you can really think about it.
Jackie hums, tilting her head to the side. “Don’t know a whole lot about her, but I heard she had a girlfriend freshman year, so definitely into girls. Not dating anyone right now, though. Olympian, hockey player, all that sexy stuff.”
“Mhmmmmm,” you mumble, sneaking a quick glance and then looking away immediately when she takes another sip of her drink, not wanting to know what would happen if you caught another glimpse of those god-sent abs.
“You gonna do somethin’ about it?” Jackie asks, nudging your head with hers.
“No, no,” you dismiss. “Just… being a freak. Admiring. God, I’m pathetic.”
Jackie laughs, abruptly standing and pulling you to your feet too. “Come on, babe, time for more drinks, let’s get your mind off of this if you’re not gonna make a move.”
You roll your eyes but follow her to the table of drinks farthest away from Caroline and the other hockey players. You’re not going to do anything, it’s not like you have a chance, and you’re just bored without schoolwork to occupy your every thought.
You take a deep breath, standing next to Jackie and surveying your options. Jackie choses for the both of you, definitely the more experienced party girl, mixing a drink that is majority vodka, making you groan slightly just at the thought of it.
“Here you go!” Jackie smiles, placing the red solo cup into your hand, smiling like she’s not trying to give you alcohol poisoning. Her gaze fixes on something behind you, and you faintly register the way her eyes light up- already a little tipsy from the few shots you’ve done- but you can’t even be bothered to question why.
You eye your drink suspiciously, mentally preparing yourself for the taste.
“Whoops,” Jackie mutters, and you look up at her only to feel her push you back.
“Jackie-” you start, angry, and she quickly scurries away from you. You want to kill her a little bit, at least question her- but you don’t get the chance to.
You gasp as you slam into someone behind you, drink splashing all over your front, alcohol mixing with the rich velvet texture of your shirt in a way that might very well ruin it. You bite your lip, glancing around the room, grateful that the room is so crowded and busy that no one noticed.
“Damn Harvey, knockin’ girls over on and off the ice,” someone laughs. You think you hear the sound of someone lightly hitting another person, followed by a small “ow.”
“Shit, I’m so sorry, are you okay?”
You turn around, Jackie nowhere to be found, and completely freeze when you realize not only did the person you slammed into have enough decency to ask if you were okay, but that person was fucking Caroline Harvey.
You would have laughed at how cliche it was if you weren’t so secretly exhilarated. The only reason you even had this drink was to stop shamefully staring at her.
But she’s right in front of you… and she looks even better like this, cheeks slightly flushed already from the alcohol, a glint in her eyes.
Her eyes meet yours, staring at you in obvious confusion and concern- “Hey? You okay?”
She places her hand on your waist and you suddenly return back into your body, looking anywhere but her eyes that were literally fucking drowning you.
“I’m sorry,” you gasp. “I-I’m fine. I’m just, like, really drunk.” You laugh, awkwardly, trying to pretend that you’re talking to just anyone. Trying to pretend like her hand on your waist wasn’t the hottest thing you’ve ever experienced.
She smiles, Jesus Christ that fucking smile, your knees go a little weak.
“Oh, good. Would be a shame if that pretty head got a concussion.”
You laugh, staring at her smile. Intoxicating. It’s the only word that comes to mind- maybe enchanted. She’s like some drug, and, God, it’s so stupid but you think you might be addicted after hearing her voice just once.
And, the suddenly, so vividly you almost fall over again, you realize what she said to you.
“Here, let me help you,” she says, effortlessly taking the now pretty much empty red solo cup from you and placing it on the table behind you, wrapping her arm around your waist and leading you to what you assume is a bathroom, probably where she was originally going. “I’m Caroline, but you can call me KK.”
Your mouth is slightly agape as she leads you through the crowd, and you suddenly pass by Jackie who gives you a big smile and a thumbs up- disappearing into the crowd before you can curse her name.
Fuck it. She’s right in front of you. The alcohol is getting to your head, the dim lighting is making everything hazy- everything except her pretty blue eyes and her intoxicating smile.
“KK,” you say, testing the nickname. “That’s cute. I’m Y/N.”
“That’s cute,” she echoes, and the way you can hear the smile on her voice seriously makes you almost fall over.
Thankfully, the bathroom she leads you to is kind of out of the way, it’s completely empty and the door clicks behind the two of you.
Your mood immediately deflates when you see yourself in the mirror, your top noticeably darker where sticky alcohol has sunk into the fabric.
“Fuck,” you mumble, peeling the sticky fabric from your skin.
Before you can even think to do anything, Caroline- KK- is running a random hand towel under the sink and gesturing to you. You expect her to hand it to you- but she doesn’t.
“Okay if I touch you?”
God in Heaven.
“Y-yeah,” you choke out, feeling your world literally recalibrate when she puts her hand on your shoulder- so fucking close to your neck- to keep you steady. You always thought it was the stereotype that basketball players have big hands, but apparently hockey players do too.
Her hand is really warm. This bathroom is suddenly really warm. Your cheeks are heating up, and as much as you try to tell yourself it’s from the alcohol- you know it’s not.
“Sorry,” she mumbles after a few more seconds. “I don’t think this is gonna do much. Maybe try putting it in the wash, though.”
You sigh, now turned sideways, hip to the bathroom sink, looking at yourself out of the corner of your eye.
“It’s fine, my friend… bumped into me, and then I backed up straight into you. Not your fault.”
You look up at her, realizing at this close proximity that she’s taller than you, maybe only an inch.
“I might just go home,” you sigh, feeling kind of disgusting in this nasty shirt.
A frown immediately forms on her face.
“Party’s just started, though. Can’t go home yet, baby.”
She wants you to die. She literally wants you to die. She’s secretly an assassin, and you’ve blocked out the memory of some horrible crime you’ve committed, and now she’s here to kill you by calling you baby and having the sexiest abs you’ve ever seen.
Not a bad way to go, though.
“Here,” she says, reaching up and tugging her jersey over her head, again revealing those fucking abs, and she’s left in a black tank top you didn’t even notice the first time you were staring at her abs. “Take my jersey.”
“Oh, no. I can’t, KK. I mean…”
“I was getting hot anyways, it’s good. Take it.”
It’s nicer quality than any other jersey you’ve ever touched before- nicer than the obligatory Wisconsin sweatshirt you bought at the school store.
You cough, taking it with a hand that shakes slightly, not able to look at her.
“…Thank you,” you say after a moment.
She smiles, big and goofy. “It’s no problem. Maybe you can repay me by having a drink with me, though?”
You pretend to think about it, but really you have to knock your knees together so you don’t fall to the floor in excitement.
“That’s a pretty good price.”
You finally meet her eyes, holding your breath as she stares into your eyes like they’re a lifeline.
“Yeah, a drink with my sexy self- pretty good fuckin’ deal.”
You laugh, and she takes a step back, looking you up and down in a way that literally gives you butterflies-
“I’ll let you change,” she says. “Come find me when you’re done, yeah, baby?”
“I’ll find you,” you breathe, turning around to start slipping off your shirt so she doesn’t see the way you literally bite your lip.
The jersey is huge, since they have to be to cover all the padding and gear hockey players wear, and you’re almost worried that you’d look really stupid in it- but your jean bottoms pull it together, somehow.
It smells good. It smells dark, like a forest, still with a hint of something fresh and light. Is this her perfume? You might want to bathe in it.
You still look pretty good, and your mind races, wondering if KK would compliment you in it- but someone bangs on the bathroom door.
“Y/N?!” Jackie. “Y/N? Holy fucking shit- did I just see what I think I saw?!”
Tyla quickly shouts too. “I got dragged away from a really hot guy for this!! Please tell me it’s true!!!”
You open the door wordlessly, holding your hands out wide so Jackie and Tyla can see the the jersey, the Badgers emblem.
“Ladies, hold your applause.”
“What the fuck!” Tyla screams, forcing you to turn around, then tracing a finger along your back, no doubt where Caroline’s last name is printed on. “Harvey. Fucking Caroline Harvey.”
“God, she’s so hot,” Jackie groans, and you whip around to shoot her a glare. “Calm down, jealous bitch, I mean this is hot. Fuck, does she have any friends? This red is a good color on me…”
“Well,” you smile, mirroring Jackie’s own “evil” smile from earlier, “She said to come find her and get a drink. With her.”
“A drink…” Tyla breathes. “With… fucking Caroline Harvey?”
“Fucking Caroline Harvey.”
“I think I might faint from, like, secondhand hotness.”
“Well,” Jackie starts, looking away from the jersey in awe and back at your face, “You look hot. Go over there right now, get that girl, and make out. Just- right on the couch. Fuck right on the couch.”
“I second that,” Tyla smiles, adjusting the jersey slightly. “Fuck her.”
“Okay, shut up, thanks. We’ll see where the night goes.”
“Oh, my God, I can’t even believe you’re doing this. What happened to my little studious best friend?”
“Alcohol,” you shrug, momentarily wondering if you would regret all of this the next morning- but everything is just so goddamn hazy in this frat house, and you can’t think straight, can’t think about anything other than her.
“Okay, okay,” Tyla says, grabbing your shoulders and staring into your eyes like she’s about to gift you with the greatest wisdom. “You want her to come back?”
You inhale sharply. “Maybe.”
“Okay, well, if this goes good- you gotta leave her before midnight.” She glances at her watch, “It’s 11:06 right now, flirt her and romance her, all that, but leave before midnight, got it?”
“Um… why, though?”
“To keep her guessing, to keep her thinking about you, obviously,” Tyla rolls her eyes. “Trust me girl. We’ll meet you outside at 12 and then take an Uber back, right?”
“Right,” you and Jackie both repeat.
“If you really want her, before midnight, okay?”
“Okay, okay, Tyla. I’ll meet you guys then?”
Jackie pretends to wipe a few tears away. “My girl’s all grown up.”
“Shut up,” you laugh, hugging both of them quickly before disappearing into the crowd of people.
—-
You make your way towards a big couch, some armchairs, and a coffee table filled with liquor.
KK’s eyes light up when she sees you, and you notice there’s a conveniently placed empty seat right next to her, and two cups in her hands.
You don’t think anyone has noticed you wearing her jersey yet, and if someone has commented on KK’s lack of jersey, you can’t tell. You smooth it down, take a deep breath and plaster a smile on your face.
A seductive one, you hope, one like Tyla would do. And with the way she mirrors your smile with her own- except this one is just as big and goofy- you think it’s working.
“Y/N?”
Someone walks past you, then immediately stops and steps back, looking right at you.
“Yeah-?”
Oh.
“Hi, Dylan,” you mutter, smile falling from your face immediately.
“Y/N. I haven’t seen you in… forever, it feels like. How’ya been?”
“I’m fine, Dylan. I’m sorry, I’m meeting somebody, okay?” His face falls, and you feel sort of bad, so you add on “Talk soon,” to make yourself feel better.
“Wait,” he says, grabbing your arm, eyes moving from yours down to your outfit. “The fuck are you wearing? A jersey?”
“…Yes,” you say after a moment, genuinely confused until you remember how much Dylan despises sports, thinks they’re all just some popularity contest. “Okay, I’m meeting someone. Bye, Dylan.”
“Hi,” a new voice says, and you smile just a bit when you realize it’s Caroline. “I’m Caroline,” she says, ever-so politely, and it kinda makes your stomach twist. “Are you a friend of Y/N’s?”
Dylan’s eyes narrow at her. “No, I’m her ex.”
“Oh, my God,” you mumble to yourself, stepping close to Caroline. “Shut up.”
KK shoots you a look, and you can’t help but avoid your eyes. You tug your arm away from Dylan, but he doesn’t budge.
“Dylan, please,” you sigh. “I have to go, okay? Let go.”
“No, Y/N, come on-”
“Uh, I think she said let go, buddy.” She still has that same smile on her face, but your eyes flick to her exposed arms, now noticing just how much muscle is there too. There’s this glint to her smile, this edge to her voice, and you would genuinely be kinda scared if it was directed at you.
“This doesn’t involve you,” Dylan huffs. “Y/N and I need to talk- why the fuck are you going around trying to purposefully piss me off? You know I hate sports.”
“Dylan,” you start, genuinely having to take a deep breath. “We dated for a week in freshman year. Let go of me, stop embarrassing yourself, and stop talking to us.”
He stares at you, before scoffing and letting your arm drop. “You’re such a fucking bitch.”
“Okay,” you sigh. “Thank you, Dylan, goodbye.” You turn around, wondering if KK is even going to be there anymore. “I’m sorry-”
“What the fuck is his problem?” She says, and you genuinely smile at the pure disgust on her face. “Seriously- what?”
“I’m sorry,” you giggle. “It’s just… you’re so, disgusted by him.”
“You aren’t?”
“Well, yeah. But I know him.”
“And I’m sorry for that. I met him once and I never want to meet him again. Weird fucking bitch.”
You laugh again, linking your arm through hers without thinking. “Thanks for trying to defend me, though. I’m sorry- he’s just… an annoying bug that won’t go away, normally he doesn’t talk to me- but I guess he was bored tonight.”
“Don’t be sorry. I’m sorry, I think we lost the seats I saved.”
You look towards the couch, now completely filled with hockey players. “It’s okay,” you hum. “We can find somewhere else. Wanna go outside?”
—-
With the hum of the party behind you, and the stream of people walking out and walking in, the little bench on the corner of the porch was shrouded in darkness, and you felt like you were just in your own little corner with KK.
You sipped on the drink she had gotten you, exchanging basic information like what majors you were taking, how many siblings you had, and al that boring stuff before she finally stopped talking and just looked at you for a moment.
“What?” you asked, wiping some of your sip from around your lips.
She smiles. “Nothing. My jersey just looks nice on you.”
“Oh,” you say, stupidly. “Really? I was worried it didn’t get the same vibe as my original fit.”
“No, I would say you look even better.”
You smile, taking another sip for confidence before you place your hand on her arm. “So, tell me about hockey. Maybe workout routines?”
She laughs. “Workout routines?”
You softly squeeze her bicep. “Well, you don’t get these by just sitting around, do you?”
She takes a sip of her drink, trying to slyly cover her face, and you smile even wider.
“No, you don’t.” When she looks back at you, there’s the faintest hint of something on her cheeks, you don’t move your hand, sinking back into that addiction of making her blush. “Mostly lifting weights, cardio, boring things.”
“M’kay, what about actual hockey? I heard you were an Olympian, right?”
She flexes her other arm, and you can see a tattoo made up of the Olympics logo, intertwining rings, on her inner bicep.
“I’m defense, number 4, and I’m basically the star of the team.”
“Really?” You laugh, pressing your thigh against hers. “Would your other teammates agree with that?”
“Ehhh, maybe don’t ask them so you stay all impressed.”
You smile, and suddenly you realize you’ve been smiling all night ever since you started talking to her. And it feels so good to smile with her, it feels so good to be all giddy, and even when Dylan was bothering you it felt good knowing she was right behind you. And it felt even better when you turned around and she was still behind you.
“Can I have your number?” You blurt out.
“Course, baby.”
You hand her your phone, feeling like a damn middle schooler with a raging crush, and she hands you hers.
You make your contact name Jersey Stealer and she laughs when she sees it, and that sound might be your favorite thing about her- second only to her abs.
You can feel the night coming to the end, but it’s a good end, a comfortable one, and there’s definitely doors unopened and words unsaid. It feels like a really sweet beginning to something really beautiful.
You check your phone, smiling at the contact name of Hockey Star and seeing the time is 11:58.
“My friends are waiting for me,” you say, almost with a grimace. The night is coming to an end but you still don’t want it to end. And like clockwork, you watch as Jackie and Tyla walk out of the party arm in arm- sneaking subtle glances all the way to the end of the driveway, eventually disappearing out of sight behind a tree.
“Oh,” she says. “No problem.”
She sounds disappointed. It makes your stomach twist yet again, to know she doesn’t want this to end as much as you do.
You both stand up and walk to the edge of the porch, down the steps and onto the concrete walkway to the driveway. Somewhere along the way, your hand had slipped into yours.
You stop where concrete meets driveway, turning around to face her. She tucks a piece of hair behind your ear, and you don’t think you’ll ever get used to the feeling of her skin on yours. It feels like an electric rush, like an addictive high.
“I’m really glad I give you a concussion.”
You laugh. “I’m glad you didn’t either.”
She looks from your lips back to your eyes, and you’re suddenly reminded that, yes, kissing exists- and you suddenly want to kiss her. Badly.
Fuck.
“Okay, well, I’ll let you go.”
You softly place your hand on her face. You lean forward, placing your lips in a grey area between her cheek and her lips.
“Goodnight, Caroline,” you whisper, an inch away from her skin.
Suddenly she surges forward, lips fully pressing against yours, hand on your waist, and God does the feeling of her lips on yours feel so good, so right.
Oh, God. She’s succeeded in killing you, you think to yourself- everything fading out for a moment before it all comes rushing back in. The sounds of the party, the chill of the nighttime air, and the sweet sweet feeling of Caroline’s lips on yours.
You don’t think your lips will ever recover from this feeling, from the weight of her lips on yours- you’ll always be chasing this feeling, this moment.
Tyla’s words flash in your mind. You revel in this moment for a heartbeat longer until, just as quick as she kissed you, you pull back.
“Didn’t know you were the type to kiss girls on the first date, Harvey. How scandalous.”
She seems disappointed you pulled away. You can see it in her pretty blue eyes- it makes you feel like you’re on top of the world.
“Are you really just any girl?”
“Nope,” you smile, silently thanking Tyla and every star in the sky- you can see it in her eyes, the way she wants to kiss you senseless, and if the game didn’t feel so good you would have let her.
And the way she’s looking at you, slightly blown away, completely in awe, lips parted but curling into a smile- it gives you an addictive rush.
“Text me when you want your jersey back.”
You take a step back, softly prying her hand off of your waist, but holding onto it for a moment.
“Oh, no, you can wear that to my next game.”
“Really?” You smile, fingertips grazing the back of her knuckles as she tries to hold onto you, but you eventually let go. “You’ll save me a good seat?”
“The best seat,” she corrects. “For the best girl.”
This time, you don’t bother to try and hide the way she makes you feel. You clench your thighs together and let your tongue dart out to slightly lick your lips.
“I’ll be there. You better win, though.” You turn around, then look over your shoulder to see her eyes fall down to your ass.
“With a pretty good luck charm like you? I’ll probably score the winning goal.”
“Bye, Caroline,” you say over your shoulder, smiling so brightly you’re sure you look all lovesick. You can’t care, it’s just how you feel for her. Maybe you should be embarrassed, the way she makes you feel kinda like silly putty in her hands, but it feels so good. So right.
“Bye, Y/N.” Her voice is breathy.
And when you check your phone, you see it’s after midnight. So much for Tyla’s advice.
But, you think to yourself, shoes clicking on concrete and KK’s gaze on your back, you kissed her after midnight- maybe all the good things just happen after midnight.
—-
laila when kk hit her for saying the taking girls down on and off the ice thing: 😞😞😞💔💔💔💔💔
y/n also being happy that she left kk AFTER midnight bc she doesn’t just want her she actually likes her
jackie and tyla wingwoman supremes i love them sm
dylan you are annoying i wish you suffering
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Perhaps some sfw and nsfw alphabet headcanon for Wolverine?
hi anon! ty for the request
nsfw alphabet with logan
A = Aftercare (what they’re like after sex)
king of aftercare!! prepare yourself for snuggles. logan smothers you in kisses, carries you to the bathroom and sets you down in the bathtub himself (he’ll join you if he’s up for another round ;) )
B = Body part (their favorite body part of theirs and also their partner’s)
he loves everything about you, but he’s undoubtedly a thighs man. and not only when it comes to your thighs of course, because he likes to remind you of that one time you were so desperate, you got off on his thigh..
C = Cum (anything to do with cum, basically)
no questions asked, logan’s gonna cum inside you (with consent ofc). he’ll spread your legs and push it back inside as it drips out, letting you lick up the remnants of his release on his fingers.
D = Dirty secret (pretty self explanatory, a dirty secret of theirs)
sometimes, logan waits for you to get out of the bathroom so he can take a shower, because he sees that you’re tired and he’s not too sure he can contain himself if you’re both in there.
E = Experience (how experienced are they? do they know what they’re doing?)
let’s be honest, logan’s over 200 years old, he’s more than experienced. but you don’t mind that. he’s yours and he’s made it clear, so his experience can only benefit you.
F = Favorite position (this goes without saying)
logan loves fucking you in missionary. sure, you riding him is more than nice, but there’s no better feeling than being able to tower over your body as he makes love to you. it makes him feel like a protector, and in return makes you feel safe, especially because you both enjoy the eye contact.
G = Goofy (are they more serious in the moment? are they humorous? etc.)
he’s not really the most serious guy during sex, he’ll definitely let out a chuckle or two, especially when you won’t stop squirming and moaning at his teasing.
H = Hair (how well groomed are they? does the carpet match the drapes? etc.)
logan is definitely hairy, but the two of you have no problem with that. he’s well groomed down there despite of his hairy chest (you like to tease him about it, but it’s definitely a fav of yours).
I = Intimacy (how are they during the moment? the romantic aspect)
oh logan doesn’t fuck, he makes LOOOVE. this is one of the most important factors in his relationship with you. he notices if something’s off and communication is key, so sex is definitely the best way for him to apologize, blow off some steam or just show you how much he loves you.
J = Jack off (masturbation headcanon)
he doesn’t do it very often. likes “saving himself for you”. also, he finds it pointless. he’s not a teenager, so if you’re not in the mood or just not feeling okay, masturbating or sex in general is the last thing on his mind.
K = Kink (one or more of their kinks)
breeding kink for suuure. just the thought of you filled with his warm cum, or perhaps with a swollen belly, carrying the result of the love between you guys.. he keeps it to himself but you’re pretty much aware of it by now, with all the times he’s come inside you.
L = Location (favorite places to do the do)
besides the bedroom, of course, logan loves taking you on the kitchen counter. sometimes it’s solely for your pleasure, but the thought of you splayed out for him on the kitchen island in just your bra definitely gets him worked up.
M = Motivation (what turns them on, gets them going)
this one is a no brainer - he loves it when you’re not wearing a bra. this happens only when the two of you are home alone, but it always ends up in the bedroom, especially when you’re wearing that satin cami top of yours, tits spilling out of the flimsy piece of clothing.
N = No (something they wouldn’t do, turn offs)
he doesn’t have any hard nos, he’s comfortable with whatever you’re comfortable with, but he’s a little too afraid to try breath play (he’s scared he’s gonna hurt you, the 6’2 hound of a man he is).
O = Oral (preference in giving or receiving, skill, etc.)
logan is definitely skilled, his tongue has you needing to be kept down with the palm of his hand on your stomach. he loves watching you squirm and moan as he sucks on your swollen nub.
he doesn’t need you returning the favor, or at least he’d never actually voice it, though the sight of you on your knees, bobbing your head along the length of his cock is definitely engraved in his mind.
P = Pace (are they fast and rough? slow and sensual? etc.)
it depends on the situation, but logan’s never actually rough with you, hence why he’s a little too hesitant to slap and push you around, even after you stated multiple times that you were alright with it. that’s just the way he is.
Q = Quickie (their opinions on quickies, how often, etc.)
logan’s not a huge fan of quickies; except for when you’re heading out with a tiny skirt.. trust, he’ll pull it up, come inside of you and fix you up, putting your shoes on and delivering a gentle slap to your ass as you walk out the door. “come on, bub, you don’t wanna be late, do you?”
R = Risk (are they game to experiment? do they take risks? etc.)
he has no problem experimenting. in fact, he himself suggested that he tie your hands during sex one night and you were appreciative of the idea so that definitely helped the both of you relax a bit.
S = Stamina (how many rounds can they go for? how long do they last?)
your pleasure is of utmost importance to him. he’ll make you come on his fingers or tongue at least once before he even thinks about taking his cock out of his pants. he’d never overwork you though, so your limits are his limits as well.
T = Toys (do they own toys? do they use them? on a partner or themselves?)
he doesn’t use toys, he finds them pointless. “what, my fingers ain’t enough, bub?”
U = Unfair (how much they like to tease)
logan is a teaseee, i’m telling you. one time, he made you finger yourself while he watched. “come on, doll, you can do better than that. put a second finger inside.”
V = Volume (how loud they are, what sounds they make, etc.)
logan definitely lets out a few occasional grunts and curses when he’s deep inside of you. “fuck, you feel so good, baby.”
W = Wild card (a random headcanon for the character)
he loves it when you cockwarm him. sometimes it’s just the two of you snuggling on the couch, covered by a mere blanket, but the closeness of the act has his mind going hazy.
X = X-ray (let’s see what’s going on under those clothes)
his abs are to die for. whenever the two of you are making out, you put your hands there to steady yourself and to feel him. logan loves the way his body has you going crazy.
Y = Yearning (how high is their sex drive?)
i’d say it’s pretty high. most of the time you’re the one to initiate stuff though. logan likes to tease you about it and he lets it be that way not only because he likes seeing you embarrassed, but because he wouldn’t want to push anything on you.
Z = Zzz (how quickly they fall asleep afterwards)
he never falls asleep before you!! one time, you were convinced logan sang you to sleep, but he denied it the next morning. to this day, you still remember him humming some lullaby while tracing soft circles on your back.
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