#Freshly baked cats

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ᴡᴀɪᴛɪɴ' ᴏɴ ʏᴏᴜ

[29.8k] Pairing | Luke Hughes x afab!reader Summary | if y/n knew how their friendship would play out, she would’ve never spoken to Luke in the first place. Now she finds herself in a game of cat and mouse except she’s ready to surrender. But he’s not. Warnings | 18+ smut, angst, childhood friends to lovers, swearing, underage drinking, dry humping, choking, making out, praise kink, size kink, fingering, oral (f & m receiving), very creepy behaviour towards y/n, protected sex Authors Note | slow burning again. Covid also never happened. This is a work of fiction, please remember that my dudes ♫ love lost - mac miller [small worlds masterlist]

The house next door to the L/n’s had been vacant for six years after they moved to the lake until the Hughes’ moved in with their three boys. To say the l/ns were relieved to have neighbours finally would be a significant understatement, they were running straight to the Hughes’ front door with offerings of freshly baked cookies and a two-year-old y/n tucked in their arms. It started a beautiful friendship between families, but temperamental summers when the Hughes’ would return to the lake. 

When y/n and Luke first met, they had been no older than a couple of five-year-olds with faces slathered in sun cream and the highest peak of curiosity in the world. She and her father had been seconds away from taking their boat out onto the lake, a bow-seated bowrider that most of the lake's inhabitants owned, but to the Hughes boys next door, it was the coolest thing they’d seen. Before they knew it, Jim was dragged across the docks by Jack, Quinn keeping up with Luke behind them. Y/n’s dad stood up, placing his hands on his hips in a typical dad manner, chuckling while y/n snapped her head around to face the docks. 

“Apologies about him,” Jim smiled, referring to his middle son’s enthusiasm. Quinn and Luke stayed tucked into Jim’s sides, “He’s got far too much energy.”

“He’s all right, anything I can do for you?” her dad asked. Y/n’s eyes jumped between all three boys, she knew they’d lived next door during the summer for years, but she’d never really spoken to them, Quinn was nine, and that was scary enough, not that he looked scary with his brown hair sticking out from under his cap and gentle eyes. Jack was a dirty-blond, eight-year-old ball of energy with a constant smile on his face, she heard him in his garden all the time. Luke was the shyest, but he had the cheesiest grin out of them all. 

“Ellen and I are about to head off to view a boat, actually. I was wondering if it would be possible for you to take the boys out with you? I’m hoping it’ll get them used to the waters.”

Y/n perked up, looking back at her dad and then back at the boys buzzing on their toes, eyes glowing under the sun, and she held her tiny hand out towards Luke, “Yeah! Come, come!” 

It was safe to say that after a full day of exploring the lake, listening to the boys talk about hockey, reminding them to sit still, her father had never been more grateful to only have two children, one being a daughter who seemed to love bossing Jack (specifically) around. 

*

That was how the two families managed to occupy the children as rambunctious kids. Shuffling them between each other, introducing various activities from each other's lives just to cure their boredom and get them befriended. The boat trip had been such a success that Jack had insisted they teach y/n mini sticks, her brother was only two and still far more interested in what toys he could chew on. So, they did just that, Quinn gently teaching the rules and watching over the younger ones, especially when Jack got really into it. But it was Luke who’d stick to her like glue, choosing her as his teammate every time, whacking his brothers if they hurt y/n (which they giggled about, planning to bring it up later).  

Another day when the weather was particularly calm, Ellen and Mr. L/n took the children paddleboarding, Jack and Quinn picking it up rather quickly, able to stand on their feet when both used the board together. That didn’t last long when Jack supposedly elbowed Quinn in the back, resulting in the eldest Hughes shoving Jack into the water, which then meant the board capsized and both boys became drenched. Y/n and Luke giggled, opting to sit on their board cross-legged and facing each other, talking about their favourite TV shows and school stories. Ellen thought it was a sweet sight, her little Luke warming up to someone, having a refuge from Toronto, someone of his own so he wouldn’t be confined to his brothers all the time. Not that that was a bad thing, but the other two boys had people at the lake they knew, their own friends and he seemed to adore her, just as she adored him the same. 

*

Every year the nearby town held a carnival that featured rides, food stalls, almost impossible games and the public’s favourite, the firework display. The one night a summer when everyone seemed to spring to life, families, couples, and friends, all came together for the memories. Strings of fairy lights hanging around the walkways, colourful, flashing stalls and rides with music drowning out under the crowd’s chatter and the floods of people making it too easy to get lost in. It was one night Luke in particular would never forget, fear shook him to his core seeing how busy the walkways were, and how big the world was and he concluded that if he was scared, y/n must’ve been too.

Both families attended together with a chain of their children clinging to them, weaving in and out of people just to reach a good spot for the fireworks. Quinn hated it the most, somehow, he had been roped into getting Jack through (who made it his goal to play every game possible), clutching his wrist while Jack complained about his grip and that he was pulling him too fast. Ellen guided Luke through, and Luke’s hand held y/n’s in a vice grip, as tight as he could for a child. He couldn’t look at her though, his cheeks burned pink the whole time and he concentrated too hard on getting away from the crowd, y/n with him. He thought he’d cry if he lost her. 

It was then that Luke experienced butterflies for the first time. The moment they reached the fireworks spot, both families huddled together, ear defenders ready in case they got frightened by popping and squealing. But not Luke and y/n, the only thing clutched in their hands were each other. The comfort of another was all it took to rid the fear, children don’t seem to mind if their hands are clammy, they held each other's hand as the fireworks lit up the sky in beautiful shades of reds, oranges, yellows in bouquets and whistles to willows and cackles, the first display they’d remember and have reflect in their beady eyes of awe. He squeezed her hand, turning his head to search for any fear in her face but she gazed back at him, lips grinning as his blond curls bounced in the breeze. They never let go, even when they didn’t need to hold each other anymore.

*

Crickets chirped throughout her garden, fairy lights running along the fence illuminating ever so slightly in the dark. No chatter from the docks, lights in the house absent and the time hitting midnight on the dot when young voices, terrible at whispering broke through the silence. 

“Luke, move over!” she kicked his leg, attempting to roll away from the box of board games next to her.

“I can’t, the wall is there!” Luke protested, rolling into y/n, trying to shove her back to her side. 

Group sleepovers are the pinnacle of good times but also the cause of a war. Y/n had a treehouse in her garden before she was born, her dad had built it after having fond memories from his childhood when he had one. Her mother suggested she invite the Hughes boys over one night since they weren’t far, and the treehouse had board games and cushions in there anyway, all they needed were sleeping bags and roll mats and they were set and wouldn’t be disturbed, as long as they closed the door. 

It wasn’t large, a squeeze, in fact, the four top-to-tailing (Luke and y/n together in the smaller section, Quinn and Jack in the larger where there wasn’t a big box) but it was cosy and as long as Jack kept his arms and legs in his sleeping bag, everyone would be happy. Except he didn’t. Just before they were about to fall asleep, Quinn was awoken by a Skittle bouncing off his head and rattling against the wood. He ignored it until another hit him. Then a Skittle hit Jack, who threw one at y/n and Jack failed to stifle his giggles until someone smacked him with a pillow. Y/n grinned, watching the boy pout but grab his own and hit Quinn, whose eyebrows couldn’t have knitted any further into his forehead as he, with a stronger momentum, swung around and whacked Jack clean around the face. 

“Oh Lu~” she chimed, watching him shield himself with his own pillow. She hit him but softer than she’d hit Jack and the four fell into a pattern of giggles and pillow swinging, burning all that pent-up energy children had. It was moments like those that brought the fondest memories to people, the ones that stuck with people forever and no matter how much time passes, the memory stays in the very place where it all happened. Always. People never forget things that made them laugh until their stomachs ached, even if they did get scolded in the morning for going to sleep too late or being too noisy. The memory never fades. Everything always stays.

When Luke was eleven, his family moved officially to Michigan, on the opposite side of the lake. The town separated them, albeit not far, he still wished he could live next to her all the time, but that would’ve taken the magic out of the vacation home. She was still the girl next door but now they’d get to see each other every day instead of once a year, he could invite her over to his, hang out on the weekends, after school, and visit all the places she used to talk about. He could see his best friend all the time.

Y/n hadn’t known about the Hughes’ move. Of course, her parents told her they were moving out of Toronto but where to be a guessing game. Out of all places, it was at school she discovered they’d moved to Michigan when the locker next to hers had been given a new lock. She closed her locker door and turned to take her leave for class until she came face to face with Luke Hughes and his bright blond curls, standing next to her just as awestruck as she was. They broke into smiles, arms thrown around shoulders and faces buried into necks, hugging until the final warning bell rang.

If you had asked Luke at the time if he liked y/n, he would’ve rejected the idea profusely out of embarrassment, but even years on, he still attached himself to her at the hip. He didn’t know what love felt like, or what a crush felt like at that age, but he did know that he always felt this warm sensation in his chest when he was around her, like flowers blooming and he couldn’t help but smile and tune the rest of the world out when she spoke. He’d always ask her for homework help, even if he knew the answers, he just wanted to hear her talk. If her friends received compliments and gifts from other boys, he’d provide her with them. When she didn’t have a partner, she’d find him. When she cried, she cried into him, when he’d lose his temper, she was his serenity. 

He remembered the first time she bawled her eyes out to him, clear as day and the first time he’d seen her vulnerable. He had been flustered through and through, never having a girl throw herself into him and nuzzle into his neck the way she did, tears soaking his hoodie’s collar and arms winding around his torso tight. He rubbed her back timidly, copying what his dad did when his mum was upset and let her cry at their lockers, the hallway scarce of anyone else but her muffled sobs and his hammering heartbeat. 

“What’s wrong?” he whispered, his stomach sinking.

Y/n sniffed, turning her head and pressing her ear to his shoulder, avoiding his gaze, “It’s stupid.”

“Well, it’s not if you’re crying.” 

“Basically, Mark C had this list that ranked most pretty to least pretty out of me and my friends and he and his friends put me at the bottom and it’s stupid because it doesn’t do anything but then he said that ‘there’s always an ugly one’. Jenny found it and tore it up.” She babbled, tears soaking his hoodie, but he didn’t mind. He just held her tighter, stroking her back until she’d cried herself dry.

“He’s such a jerk, I think you’re the prettiest, so he was wrong anyway.” Luke, fuelled by a bitter taste in his mouth, hadn’t thought through what he had said or the weight of it and spoke from his mind. Hearing that a boy thought she was pretty and openly admitted it without shame or fear exiled any sort of misery from her. Somehow, and she didn’t understand why at that age, it meant everything that it came from Luke. Luke who’d grown up with her and seen her worst moments already (like horrifically sunburnt). 

She squeezed him. He wasn’t the kind of guy to throw around compliments or comments, he was a thinker, just like his oldest brother.

“Do you wanna come over? We can watch movies and I’m sure we can drop you home.” He asked, his voice soft. She pulled back, hands fisting his hoodie, eyes sore and puffy and Luke felt his heart shatter at the sight of her sadness. She nodded eagerly, failing to contain the smile that crept onto her lips. She couldn’t help it, Luke just did that, and had that effect on her.

It was just a movie to make y/n feel better, but Luke being the youngest of three meant he fell victim to relentless teasing from his brothers the moment he got home. With bags dumped in the hallway, he and y/n made it to the large living room that opened into the dining room on the right-hand side which overlooked sliding doors into the garden, a breakfast bar dividing the kitchen and dining. Jack’s eyes lit up, first, engulfing her into a bear hug and then wiggling his eyebrows at Luke. Quinn simply ruffled both their hair and took his seat on one of the sofas, engrossed in his phone. 

“Woah, look at Lukey bringing a girl home, we only got here a week ago an-” Jack started announcing but Ellen soon ushered him quietly, guiding Luke and y/n into the living room. She apologised for the mess, they had only recently moved in and there was still a lot of decorating to complete. The basics were down, sofas, TV above the fireplace, and dining table in the dining room but the place lacked photos and other miscellaneous decor for now. 

“What do you wanna watch, Lu?” she curled up on the sofa, tucking herself into the armrest. Luke sat next to her, an awkward distance between them.

“You choose, I would pick Harry Potter, obviously.” He slumped into the backrest so his feet could reach the coffee table, just about.

“Harry Potter’s good, put that on.” Luke did, loading up Netflix and hitting play. He wanted to do something, cut the awkward air between the two of them but she seemed happy curled up in the corner, but he imagined her cuddled into him instead. Y/n burned to lean into Luke, bathe in his embrace again, the warmth of sitting close to someone and perhaps she would have if Quinn left the room. It wasn’t like he was paying attention to them, so she readjusted and shuffled closer to Luke, butterflies flittering in her stomach as she closed that awkward gap between the two of them. Luke glanced over to Quinn, but quickly turned back to her and sat up straight, turning his body into hers in return and putting his attention back onto the film. 

They hadn’t made it halfway through the film when they fell asleep, Quinn too. Y/n’s head lay on Luke’s shoulder, his head leaning on hers. It was tough work surviving a day of school, clearly, but at least they were comfortable. The whole house fell into a silence, if a pin were to drop, the rattling against the floor would echo. When Jack emerged from his room, he genuinely thought he’d been home alone the whole time and crept down the stairs, flinching when he accidentally kicked a hockey glove to the bottom. He hung a left into the living room, catching sight of Quinn knocked out with his hood pulled over his head and Luke and y/n cuddled together, Harry Potter still playing on the TV. He could have woken Quinn, he could have woken Luke and teased him red, but he fumbled in his pocket for his phone, snapped a photo of his little brother and scooted around the house to find Ellen as if he had a rare treasure to show her. Sometimes siblings aren’t all that bad. 

*

The summer of twenty-fifteen worked slightly differently than either family were used to. The l/n’s were used to having an eleven-year-old and an eight-year-old, with the additional two teenagers and Luke next door but now Jack was allowed to bring his friends Trevor and Cole. That was four teenagers, two pre-teens and a child, the Hughes’ now with two cars on their drive and double the noise level. Jack’s friends weren’t trouble, though. Trevor was like Jack, loud and full of spirit while Cole was on the quieter side, yet still as adventurous as the other two. When Jim had told the l/n’s the situation, y/n’s parent's souls were sucked straight from their bodies, how were they supposed to entertain that many kids? 

One tradition that hadn’t changed was the carnival. That still stayed but the world wasn’t so big to them anymore. The fairy lights stayed, the food and game stalls were still the same, the rides had been refurbished and chatter still muffled the music. They had the strength to move through the crowds on their own now, recognise each other amongst the people and knew exactly where their meeting point was. Quinn was relieved he didn’t have to babysit Jack anymore, he met up with his friend Brady before the firework display. Jack, Trevor and Cole played every game they could afford with brotherly competitiveness raging through them and Luke still held her hand above it all. Weaving through bodies, hand clasped in his, she followed him with every ounce of trust she had, feeling a spark surge between them and watching his ears tint pink when she squeezed. When they’d arrived at the spot, the parents were already huddled together, Jack and his musketeers arriving shortly after with various prizes hanging around their necks and stuffed under their arms and Quinn arrived last. They weren’t huddled as close as they all had been in previous years, the little groups seeming to form their own huddles and Luke and y/n were included in that pattern, standing slightly to the side, almost in their own world. 

Spinners of blues, glitters of whites and brocades of purples painted the inky sky in tune with the song that played in the background, following every beat almost perfectly. Their hands became warm in each other's hold, almost too warm but letting go would’ve felt wrong and awkward, especially since the electric feeling felt too good. Maybe they were too old to be holding hands now, there wasn’t much of a point anymore but perhaps they felt like it was all they had left of the innocence of childhood before school got harder, friendships got messier and before everyone started changing. Luke peered over at her, smitten by the way the fireworks always brought a smile to her face. She had such a lovely smile, the kind where her eyes crinkled in the corners, and she was confident about showing teeth. A burst of adrenaline shot through him, and images of couples he’d seen around flashed through his mind and maybe he would regret it, maybe he would burn hotter than his sunburn but at least he could say he tried. 

With a hitched breath, Luke placed a sweet, quick kiss on her cheek before turning back to the sky above as if he’d done nothing at all. Her eyes widened and her head whipped around to look at him, confirming as if she hadn’t been dreaming and the way he smiled victoriously gave her every answer to her questions. 

“Luke!” he flinched at his name, eyes wide, his worst fear hitting him like a brick; did someone see that? Was he about to be yelled at for kissing a girl’s cheek? Is Jack or Quinn going to chirp him for the rest of his life about it? He sheepishly turned towards his family, only to have relief wash over him when it was just Ellen calling him and y/n over. 

“I want a photo of you and your brothers,” Ellen called, and he and y/n shuffled over, hearts thumping in their chests with cheeky smiles that kept a secret only they would ever know. 

Quinn, Jack and Luke stood together, Luke in the middle wearing his University of Michigan fleece (which he wasn’t sure who it actually belonged to), Quinn on one side, hands tucked into the sleeves of his grey hoodie and Jack on the other, who, for reasons unknown, decided to don an all-burgundy jacket and beanie in the middle of summer. Neither of the boys smiled, more so due to being forced into a photo with everyone else watching and giggling at them but unknown to them at the time, that photo would be hung up on their staircase and be one of the favourites. 

*

The problem with growing up is that the big world starts to become smaller and more enclosed. You learn and feel new things that you never thought existed. Unfortunately, the group found out the hard way that things change. The ladder on y/n’s treehouse had rotted over the winter, but her father replaced it with a staircase instead, for ease but she thought it looked cooler that way. It also made getting the mugs of hot chocolate into the treehouse easier than it would have been. But because everyone had grown, and they’d gained two extra bodies, it meant the inside was even more of a squeeze than before, even after replacing the large box of board games with a small cabinet instead. Top-to-tailing once again, Jack, Cole and Trevor on one end with Quinn, Luke and y/n on the other, but this time Jack was kept awake by Trevor’s snoring. He should have expected it really, it was usually him keeping everyone up with his antics, but he loathed how everyone else managed to fall asleep but him, but he hated more that if he dared wake anyone, he’d be sleeping outside. 

He couldn’t blame everyone for being out cold, they’d spent the afternoon making friendship bracelets, Luke and y/n giving each other matching blue ones that he just knew would become the most prized possessions with the way their eyes lit up. Jack may have been loud and chatty, but he observed his brothers intensely and learned vicariously and what he figured out was that his little brother was utterly obsessed with this girl he desperately tried sitting closer and closer to. Luke even blew on her hot chocolate, the way Quinn used to do for him. To think that an eleven-year-old made bolder moves than he did. Quinn had told him to lay off Luke, let him be enamoured and that it was sweet to watch him break out of his comfort zone. Of course, the eldest knew exactly what it was like to feel so tucked away in your shell all the time, so if anyone was rooting for Luke and y/n, it was Quinn. 

The air around her slowly warmed, her shivering stopping and a hot breath fanning across her pillow. Opening her eyes a crack, Luke’s curls fell in front of his eyes, sleeping bag zipped to his lips and he shuffled closer to her. If this was his way of cuddling, she accepted it immediately, shuffling closer until foreheads almost touched.

“Goodnight, y/n.” he whispered.

“Goodnight, Lu.”

*

Jack vaulted over the sofa, clutching the diary to his chest and manically laughing as Luke chased him desperately, with sheer panic in his eyes and a face redder than Cole’s sunburn. Luke had never felt so hot in his life, never wanted the ground to swallow him up more. He wished he’d never let Jack in his room, he wished he’d been more careful and tidied his room when he was asked because everything from that point further could have been prevented. 

“C’mon Jack! Give it back!” Luke whined, lunging at his brother, who dodged him. “You can’t tell me you haven’t thought it too!”

“It doesn’t matter if I’ve thought it, you wrote it down!” Jack teased, opening the diary above his head to read more of the paragraphs. More of Luke’s deepest secrets. “I think y/n’s the prettiest girl in my grade and even the world, I like her smile a lot and she makes me feel all tingly when she laughs.” 

“Shut up! Muuuum!” 

Jack eventually handed the diary back, his laughing taunting Luke as this was now something that would hang over him for the rest of his life, be brought up every summer until the end of time and he begged the universes and any deity out there that Jack didn’t spill the secret. He was awful at keeping secrets. He and y/n were best friends. She didn’t even feel the same anyway, or at least he thought but, if he was lucky, perhaps took the risk, even just once, it could work out. What was the worst that could happen?

“Lukey and y/n sitting in a tree, k-i-s-s-i-n-g!” Jack sang, eventually ending the tune with kissing noises as Luke's face grew redder and redder. If he could hit him with no consequences, he would’ve hit him hundreds of times, he wished he was big enough to cross-check him hard next time they were on ice. 

“Shut up!” Luke yelled and shoved him, but Jack repeated the song, “Mum! Tell him to stop!” 

“Your face is so red! You do think she's pretty! Wait ‘til the other’s hear this!” 

“Jack, stoooop!”

Jack grinned like a menace, running away through the sliding doors and through the yard towards the dock, “QUINN! Luke has a crush on y/n!”

To Jack, it was harmless, brotherly teasing. They’d make up, move on and forget about it. They couldn’t do anything anyway, Jim and Ellen would scold him (or Quinn) for messing with Luke if they continued, and y/n would find out and everything would be ruined. So, it became a Hughes secret, and everyone would let Luke pine himself to death and decide if he wanted to make a move or not. And Luke’s nerves exploded. His mind raced and emotions tangled into a knot. He was still a growing boy, he didn’t know anything, and he was just about to begin middle school and after that high school where y/n would likely and undoubtedly make new friends, like other boys and he’d fade into the distance as nothing but the boy next door. If anyone were to have their heart broken it would be him, and he’d do everything to ensure that never happened.

When you start high school as a freshman, you don this mentality that you’re a lot older than you are. Perhaps it’s because you’re in a larger school with kids a year to four years older than you are, you’re all mature now. You dress better, follow trends, are influenced by the people around you and the media, and develop into your own person and your classes are more challenging. Yet, there are twice as many people, twice as many judging eyes, people you know and others you’ve never seen before. People openly tell you your flaws, force you into a shell and all the rumours brainwash the consensus and nobody knows what’s real and what’s not, if there’s a correct way to wear something, enjoy something, who was in your league and who was far out. 

But it was also a clean slate for most. When Luke and y/n started high school, their friendships hadn’t merged like they used to. Luke found his crowd, like-minded boys who enjoyed sports and finding ways to cure teenage boredom and y/n found hers, a mix of different personalities that found common interests out of the blue. The differing schedules and groups pulled them apart more than they had liked, only sharing two classes in the end and Luke despised whoever made their timetables. She’d pout when they compared schedules, a violent urge to cry knowing she wouldn’t see his smile and curly hair every day, wouldn’t be able to find him easily for a hug when she needed it, and wouldn't have him by her side anymore. When she’d looked back up at him, with glossy eyes, his stomach dropped, and he knew exactly how she felt. He opened his arms and let her bury her face into his chest, arms winding around her, and they both mourned the loss of being two peas in a pod as dramatically as angsty teenagers would.

He did his best to see her at her locker, leaving cute little notes through the vents with hearts doodled under the message. He smiled and talked to her in the halls, they hung out after school when they could, he glared at anyone who dared talk shit about her and they hugged whenever one had a bad day, Luke hanging on longer, always. But as he’d feared, she had shown interest in other boys like his efforts had been wasted, and other boys had reciprocated but for some reason when they left cute notes, it was romantic, not that led to anything. But seeing the real world lit the fire under him, he needed to be a go-getter now, do something.

*

Nothing sucked at the lake though. There was no competition at the lake, no interruptions and he had the whole summer to make a singular move, or at least drop a hint. That was his one goal, drop y/n a hint that he liked her. She was a smart girl; she’d catch on but if she accepted it was an entirely different anxiety. He’d watched Jack make moves on girls before, it wasn’t that hard, surely. All you had to do was just go for it. And he would if his nerves didn’t eat him alive like vultures. This was his best friend he liked; he’d cry like a baby if she rejected him but hate himself for ruining something precious more. 

Michigan could get hot during the summer, a blazing hot sometimes where the UV was high enough that thirty minutes outside, you’d feel that burning sensation along your skin. All those years ago, Jim and Ellen had bought that boat they viewed, it had sat identically to the l/n’s on the dock until Quinn had been old enough to drive it himself and take his brothers and friends out on the lake. Well, it was more like Jack’s friends as, for another year, Trevor and Cole had tagged along for their lake house getaway.

Luke had no problem with Trevor and Cole and quite liked them as people. So did y/n, maybe a bit more than the youngest Hughes liked. Y/n sat opposite them and Jack on the boat, donning her new bikini and sunglasses she begged her parents for since she wasn’t a kid anymore. Thank the heavens for those sunglasses, if either of the two had caught her staring at them, she may have just jumped overboard because they looked divine. Trevor with his flowing hair, always perfect no matter what direction the wind blew and tanned skin that glowed in the sun, immaculate humour that made anyone laugh. Cole who was the embodiment of the sun and so soft-spoken, shoulders broad with inviting arms. The boys in her grade weren’t like them, hadn’t grown into their features yet, and still had awful haircuts but not Trevor and Cole. They worked out, proudly sitting shirtless and flashing their six-packs off to the poor, fumbling girl in front of them. Her friends would have killed to be there, these guys were so much hotter than the ones she knew, but also so far out of reach that all she could do was admire them. 

Jack elbowed Trevor, subtly gesturing over to a zoned-out y/n with a playful smirk on his face. Catching onto his hint, he tensed just to watch y/n look away, attempting to play it off. The older boys chuckled, Luke sending a stabbing glare towards Jack. She’d been caught, been too sloppy and now they knew she was staring. How embarrassing. Luke shuffled closer to her, thighs pressing together as he slung his arm over the back of her seat, just as he’d seen Jack do before.

“C’mon, dude, uncool.” Luke scolded, irritation bubbling in his chest as his brother and friends laughed until they moved to the seats at the front of the boat, likely intending to get Quinn to stop so they could jump in the water. He wanted her to look at him the same way, desperately. He also worked out regularly, grew out his curls the way she liked them, and wore the clothes she said looked good on him so what was so much better about them than him? What was he doing wrong? 

Heat flushed up the back of y/n’s neck, tingles jolting through her as their skins touched softly. His arm around her felt secure like it was meant to be there and suddenly the embarrassment faded. She glanced at him from the corner of her eye, listening to Luke mumble something under his breath. God was he cute when he pouted, cute that he’d stood up for her once again. He was taller, more confident, attentive, and wearing the clothes she loved on him, he’d listened when she rinsed his last haircut, completely warmed up to her presence, talking all the time with her about anything, going everywhere with her. Luke was her anchor. She leaned into his side and tucked herself into him, his muscles relaxing underneath her touch, and he hesitantly rested his head against hers, shutting the surrounding world out as they bathed in each other's company.

*

The sun gracefully set into slumber, painting the sky with gradients of oranges to yellows over the lake and the back gardens. Y/n’s legs dangled over the porch of her treehouse, facing out towards the lake and feeling the breeze through her hair, a hot chocolate still warm cupped in her hands. It was peaceful up there, next door was too loud, Jack throwing some party while Jim and Ellen refuged in her living room, chattering with her parents about all the children and presumably the Hughes boys’ NHL drafting. Her parents were hockey fans, but neither child played the sport, not seriously at least, but she knew it was Luke’s world and because of that, she made sure to attend his games when she could.

Luke’s footsteps thumped on the wood of the platform, and he took a seat next to y/n, swinging his legs back and forth over the edge. Jack’s party had become too loud to bear, and he felt the sweat radiate off the bodies he’d weaved through to leave the house, deterring him from wanting to join in. Besides, he didn’t want to be at the scene of the crime when Ellen and Jim found a broken pool cue in the basement, or a giant stain on the rug in the living room. 

“What are you doing up here?” she asked, smiling at him. Of course, she knew, but she loved seeing him smile.

“Wanted to see my favourite person, is that wrong?” Luke’s shoulders bounced when he chuckled. Something she loved about him was that when he laughed, he laughed with his body, shoulders bouncing, head thrown back, eyes squeezed shut, sometimes when he laughed really hard, he’d lean into her. 

“Mmm, nooo, I guess not. Just thought you’d be down there,” she gestured her head towards his house, “getting the party experience for when you make it with the big dogs.”

He screwed his face up, “There is the last place I wanna be right now. It’s a disaster and I don’t wanna be roped in with the blame. Plus, Jack’s been making out with a girl for an hour and every corner I took they were literally there, so gross. And Quinn’s at Brady’s. Would rather be here with you.”

“Well, aren’t you a cutie pie,” she teased. Luke’s ears tinted pink and she raised her mug towards him. “Want a sip?”

Without a word, his lips pressed to the mug, sipping the lukewarm hot chocolate which was more marshmallow than liquid. He wiped the corners of his mouth with his sleeve, watching her lips meet the exact spot his did. His stomach fluttered at the sight, the orange hues cascading over the two in perfect timing. She looked…beautiful. 

They fell silent for a moment, attention drawn next door as a group of guys cheered over a beer pong win, jumping into each other and loudly claiming that the winning shots were for the girls watching. They imagined that it was them, at some place in the future, at a party with their friends where they all played drinking games, and it was normal to express such things openly. Where everyone had grown out of their teenage features and minds, understanding the world a bit better and having fun was easier. Y/n knew all the girls that entered the Hughes’ house were pretty, and she admired the way they dressed and styled their hair, their confidence and no wonder the boys liked them. 

“I can’t wait to be like them one day, Lu.” She mumbled, placing her (now empty) mug to the side. “Pretty and having fun like that, they’re all so cool. My friend’s sister goes to college, and she tells the wildest stories, and how she met her boyfriend is insane.”

Luke’s mouth dried, it was now or never, and he couldn’t miss his chance again. Why were feelings so hard? Why couldn’t she see herself from his eyes? Y/n placed her hands on the platform edge, fingers curling over the side, and he glanced at them with temptation burning through him. Be a go-getter, now or never, do something. He placed his hand on hers, fingers curling the same as hers did. It was an awkward way to hold someone’s hand, sure, but you don’t really think things through when your heart is pulsing in your ears, and you think you’re about to explode in adrenaline. 

Y/n turned her head and looked at the heat on her hand, his larger one fully engulfing hers, “You looked pretty today. You look pretty all the time. I told you that years ago. I like the way you smile, and I like your bravery, the way you’re not afraid to talk to people, that you bring comfort to people. There are lots of pretty things about you other than your face. And hair…and eyes.” 

Looking up at him, their eyes met, and he wasn’t smiling. He was being real. He’d seen straight through her once again and said exactly what she needed to hear. But the way he said it came straight from his heart, his eyes never wavering away from hers like he’d been trying hard to put up a confident front. His hand squeezed hers, the sunset lighting up the green in his eyes but not in a soul-staring way, they shimmered. His words flowed through her veins, echoing around her head and wrapped around her heart like a hug and no matter how hard she had tried to suppress it, maybe she liked him a lot. And he’d just confirmed that maybe, just maybe, he may have felt similar. 

“Lu,” she asked, his gaze softening at her voice, “do you really think kissing is gross?”

He shook his head sheepishly, wetting his lips, “No…I just don’t know how to do it.”

“I can teach you,” she paused, eyes jumping to his lips and back to his eyeline, “I’ve read a lot of romance books to have an idea.” 

His voice stammered, eyebrows raising as his chest became heavier, breathing deeper until he managed to spill the words out, “You wanna kiss me?”

“Yeah, like…it wouldn't be weird because like…we’re best friends and all so…if we’re gonna learn it may as well be with each other.” Y/n avoided his eyes, looking between his lips, chest and their hands on the decking. They were warm, a nice warm that felt secure, the contact made her stomach flutter because yes, she had thought about kissing him, what it would feel like, if it was acceptable, what he would think of her and if he wanted to kiss her too. 

“Yeah, it’s not weird if we kiss.” Luke piped up, hand leaving hers and fingers gently tilting her chin up to meet his eyes, “I wanna kiss you too.”

Y/n nodded lightly, confidence driving her to lean closer into him and the world fell silent. Luke short-circuited, he really should have asked his brothers for advice before agreeing but he wasn’t going to be a coward when she was right there, her eyes fluttering closed, and he copied. His fingers slid to cup her cheek, tilting his head in the opposite direction while his heart pulsed rapidly, faster than hockey had ever made it beat. Their lips pressed together for a closed-mouth kiss, meeting tentatively and tasting the marshmallow remnants but a new kind of euphoria burned through them for those five seconds, an addicting one that when they pulled away with uncontrollable smiles, they leant back in for another, a passionate one that lasted a few seconds longer with more confidence as they’d found comfort. 

Pulling back with eyes fluttering open, Luke’s hand covered her’s again, “Are you sure you’ve never done that before?” he whispered, enamoured by the high he was left on. A high that urged him to kiss her again, and again and until they couldn’t breathe. 

“Now you know how to kiss someone.” She giggled, turning back to face the sunset as if it hadn’t fazed her at all. No blush as if she’d kissed someone a million times. Like it was empty. 

And that was that. It ended as fast as it started and both fifteen-year-olds watched the sunset until the sky bled into ink and the stars rose, not a word between them. That painful desire to keep kissing her terrified Luke through to his bones. Her lack of reaction, lack of sparkle in her eyes gave him the sickening reality check that maybe it was just a kiss. That when the euphoria circled through them it only fuelled a fire in him. Had he not been clear enough when he explicitly said he wanted to kiss her? He needed to be braver, bolder. If she wasn’t picking up on hints, he’d just need to spit it out, but not now. He could barely form a sentence as he processed the storm of emotions. What’s the worst that could happen anyway?

Y/n whipped her head back towards the sunset, a small smile settling on her lips to mask the twisting in her stomach. The kiss felt electric, joy running through her veins and Luke’s lips on hers let a new kind of warmth flourish in her chest, one that made tingles of excitement spread through her. She could tell the kiss had him enamoured, he sat wide-eyed like she’d hung the stars out, utterly infatuated they’d just shared their first kisses. It wasn’t like she hated it, that it didn’t mean anything to her because it did, there’s no one else in the world she’d rather have her first kiss with. The problem was that it made her feel things. Things she’d never felt before and she didn’t know if she liked the kiss or if she liked Luke. She didn’t know anything, and she couldn’t risk hurting him out of her own confusion and stupidity.

Leaning up against his locker, half-listening to what his friends were talking about, Luke watched the two from across the hall, his tongue licking his top teeth as y/n laughed with the boy she was with. One year ago, he and y/n had kissed in her treehouse, and one year on he still thought about it. They hadn’t brought it up since, it didn’t matter anymore, it was only a kiss apparently. They continued their friendship like it always had been but every now and then they’d stare at each other for a little bit too long and let the memory wash over them again. 

But he still didn't like what he was watching, it felt like a festering wound in his body with the way she looked up at him with stars in her eyes. Gradually he clocked out of his friend’s conversation and tuned into y/n and mystery guy’s like a satellite. The hall wasn’t too busy, most of the crowds retreating towards the stairs, so while their voices weren’t clear, he caught the gist. It didn’t mean he was happy about it, in fact the way he spoke to her as if she were stupid didn’t quite sit with him right, how could she like him? Luke’s glare only stiffened, burned holes through the guy’s head the more he swayed her with his compliments and smiles, God was it unbearable and Luke was at his wits end with it. Weeks he had seen the two together and his croaky, fifteen-year-old self’s voice echoed, ‘be a go-getter’. 

He pushed off his locker, weaving around the passing students and just as he was so close to interfering, he wished he’d never left at all. The world moved around him, but the volume never made it, a ringing in his ears as the words left her mouth easily. 

It’s a date, see you Saturday.

He huffed with a lump in his throat, stomach dropping and his heart bleeding out his chest and onto the linoleum, but his feet didn’t move fast enough as by the time he’d processed what he’d seen, heard, his eyes met hers and he found himself approaching her. Even at sixteen, he towered over her, shoulder leaning against her locker with his hands in the pockets of his jeans, eyes glossing but holding back the tears. 

“You two seem friendly lately, not goin’ around finding my replacement, huh?” he half-joked, trying his best to put on his signature smirk.

Y/n folded her arms and raised an eyebrow, his eyes catching sight of the friendship bracelet he made her when they were kids, “Stop it, we’re just talking. And nobody could replace you, Lulu. You’ll always be my number one bestie.” 

Bestie.

“So, where’s he taking you on Saturday? Not a walk in the woods, I hope. You know what happens there.” He didn’t care, no, no, no he didn’t. At least that’s what he had tried to tell himself. He just needed to know she was safe, yeah. That was it.

“He’s not gonna kill me, and if you must know, we’re going to the roller rink, he wants to be cute and teach me to skate.” She watched Luke cock an eyebrow; his smirk still glued to his lips as if to non-verbally ask her ‘Really? Does he not know you at all?’. “What? I tried to tell him I already knew but he insisted and like, he’s cute and he was trying so why not?”

The bell shrilled and crowds began shuffling. Luke raised his hands to surrender while she rolled her eyes, pushing him by the chest backwards towards their class as he chuckled at her, spinning around. His heart had officially been shattered to pieces; he wasn’t even in the running. He’d lost a love, but he still had his friend, but the part that stung was that he lost his first love to someone else. He had been too slow, a coward. Maybe it would have turned out differently if he hadn’t agreed to kiss her in the first place. Maybe he should have said something in the treehouse. Seeing them together would only add more salt to the wound and he didn’t think he could just get over that quickly, couldn’t bear to see them in school together, it was like having an arrow labelled above his head labelling him as a loser. 

“Okay, okay, I’ll leave you two at it then. Call me if you need anything.” 

Y/n stopped pushing him and walked close by his side, looping her arm around his and holding tight to not lose him amongst the crowd. Luke wished he could have enjoyed the affection, but it was different now. He was just a friend and how would her potential boyfriend feel about her clinging onto him? Would it be his fault? Oh God why was it so confusing.

One weekend. One date was all it took. Luke spent the whole weekend in his basement, shooting pucks and not caring if they hit the wall or the net, that wasn’t the point, all just to clear his head and focus on something else. He started to hope his dad would yell at him for being too rough, it would give him something else to be upset about. After the puck slammed into the wall, he stood up straight to catch his breath. Hockey was supposed to channel his energy so why did his body feel so heavy still? His eyes burned hot, glazed over and he wiped the streaming tears with his sleeve. He was used to being on his own now, both his older brothers in the NHL and now his best friend had someone else. The one time he needed brotherly advice, comfort, to hear their voices the most, they couldn’t be there, and a call wasn’t the same as sitting on the porch roof watching the sunset.

Meanwhile, y/n’s face held an amused facade while her date mansplained Fantasy Football at her, eyes subtly flickering to the clock on the wall periodically. The whole date hadn’t gone badly, he paid, bought them drinks, listened intently to every word she spoke but what more was there? They’d been skating in circles, and he’d been trying desperately to appeal to her, bragging about his football achievements and now Fantasy Football. He was nice, cute, yeah, but y/n couldn’t help but think of Luke every time a word left his mouth. This guy was not special, her stomach was silent, no butterflies like Luke gave her. His smile wasn’t contagious like Luke’s. Luke would’ve taken her somewhere new they could both try or somewhere they both loved, Luke’s voice was easy to listen to when he told hockey stories, and he’d already explained fantasy sports to her the same way he would have explained it to a guy. All she thought about was Luke, compared to every guy she met. Poor Luke. She should have told him she liked the kiss then maybe he wouldn’t have run blue in the hallway. She couldn’t turn the clock back, but what she could do is move forward with the realisation that she did like Luke Hughes, more than a friend. 

She’d told Luke about the disaster date, and he’d been surprised to hear she hadn’t enjoyed it since he’d watched the two shower each other with nothing but attention and affection for weeks but Luke had made up his mind. It was time for him to take the backseat, let go of their childhood. 

Once Monday came around, Luke had to try his best to push his own feelings aside, lay off the romance hints, less like her wannabe boyfriend and act more like a friend, she wasn’t interested in him now, she had other boys, and he had to at least pretend he wasn’t interested in her. They were besties, nothing more, nothing less. She said it herself. He’d lost his chance. Even if he tried to ask her out now, what if she rejected him? Laughed in his face? His feelings mattered too, and the last person he wanted hurting them was y/n. Y/n and Luke had made their agreement to be friends, and they hated themselves for letting the flowers of a bittersweet tragedy grow in their lungs violently unless they loved each other the same.

His logic may have been screwed, but it was the only way he would be able to stay in her life, yes girls and guys could be best friends but when you were in love with yours who liked someone else, that became horrendous to bear. Especially on the daily. How was he supposed to be just her friend if he had to be reminded of why he’d go to all ends of the Earth for her every day? He’d head straight to his friends between bells, pretending he’d not seen her face sink when he walked past. At lunch he sat with his friends most of the time, got involved with their shenanigans while she sat with her group, as if he didn’t notice the longing in her eyes. In classes, he’d join his friends a little more, not all the time but more than he used to. When the final bell rang, it was her he sat with on the bus, and it became the best part of the day listening to his voice talk, having a conversation like they used to. It wasn’t until he’d started putting a wedge between them that he realised how deep he’d fallen into her grip, and getting out would be the hardest, most confusing and painful part of it. 

Y/n wasn’t used to the whirlwind of emotions, the on-off behaviour but after months of Luke being unable to decide if he wanted to hang out with her or not, she’d gotten used to it. She didn’t expect to see him after the first bell anymore, didn’t expect him to find her in the halls (but he did give her a smile and that little upwards nod guys do when they passed each other) or at lunch anymore but when they met on the bus at the end of school, they fell back into each other like magnets. She didn’t know what she did wrong that made him build such a wall, but for the first few weeks there wasn’t a night she hadn’t cried about it, not a day where she’d see his face in the halls and her heart not gain a heavy weight. It had her emotions in one giant blender, he wanted nothing to do with her throughout the day but once they got home, he replied to texts almost instantly, hung out with her over the weekends, glared daggers into every guy who ever spoke to her and what the hell was going on? He had her engulfed in blankets of loneliness and then bouncing back into that warmth of giddy sensations. The one thing she did know for certain was that the further apart they floated, the more she realised how much she loved Luke Hughes.

* 

When Valentine's Day rolled around, y/n closed her locker, cheeks aching from smiling so much. It would be the day she asked Luke if he wanted to celebrate the day of love with her, go into town, on a date. As she turned to leave, Roller Rink guy unfortunately cornered y/n to her locker, a cocky grin on his face. Nausea riddled; her smile dropped. She thought telling him that they should just be friends would be enough, but he was persistent on wooing her. Luke chewed the inside of his cheek, a cold glare on Roller Rink, he couldn’t have cared less about his name, he didn’t want that taste on his tongue. How could this guy not get the memo? 

“So, you got plans tonight? Gonna give me a second chance?” Roller Rink smirked, stepping that inch too close for her liking. So close that y/n stepped back, bumping into someone else a lot taller, broader.

Luke almost left it, almost walked away but his blood boiled too hot, “We do, yeah. Sorry buddy, maybe next time.” 

“Well look who it is, haven’t seen you in a while, Hughes. How about you let the girl speak, yeah?” Roller Rink mocked, condescending. Y/n had never been more grateful for Luke to step in, never been more grateful for a friend like him. Relief fell through her, shoulders becoming weightless, and her muscles finally relaxed. 

“Actually, he’s right. I asked him to meet me here. Bye.” She stuttered, grabbing Luke’s hand and dragging him through the hall, leaving the other guy in their dust. She grinned the whole way to Luke’s, hoping he was just as ecstatic as she was. He stuffed his hands in his pockets, falling weak to her.

It was their childhood all over again, Luke and y/n curled up on the sofa, but this time she had her head tucked into his chest while his arm sat comfortably over the back of the sofa. Her ear pressed to his heart, listening to its calm rhythm as Harry Potter played on the TV. They weren’t supposed to be that close; he was supposed to be keeping his distance, pushing those ecstatic feelings aside, being her friend but the way she snuggled into him, fitting like a glove in his figure, had his head spinning. The last time, it would be the last time he’d let her do this. Perhaps he could make an exception for Valentine's Day.

Valentine’s Day had been the exception, and the final one. When she left his house, he’d taken a long shower, staring at the wall and rethinking his options. Y/n was playing with his feelings, tugging his heart strings and he couldn’t do it anymore. He couldn’t cope with the bursts of paradise when their met eyes, only to remember that if she really liked him, she wouldn’t have agreed to a date, and wouldn't have avoided his eyes after kissing him. Maybe he was immature, unable to regulate such strong emotions, but he hated the back and forth, he just wanted someone he couldn’t have. She went on a date; she didn’t like it so she went back to him to seek the affection he couldn’t give her. Best friends weren’t supposed to be rebounds; he didn’t want to be a rebound. If he was to have her, he wanted her, exclusively but maybe right now just wasn’t the time. 

He stopped speaking to her in class, she tried her best to crack him, grab his attention and hopefully he’d return her energy like he used to but all he gave were dry, short replies. He couldn’t let himself fall for the sweet sound of her voice and she couldn’t let him ignore her interest. When they’d pass each other in the halls, she’d smile that warming, toothy grin at him, but he barely looked at her. She caught him after school, asking him if he was taking the bus but Luke waved her off, saying he was carpooling with his friends. Luke was always busy when she’d asked to hang out, which was okay, he was allowed to have friends. At least he still texted back, not instantly and the messages were shorter, but she took what she could get. Was part of growing up watching friendships float apart? She knew that the older you got, your friends either become closer or further from you, and Luke had been her childhood friend, but she never imagined he would be the one to drift. He was also a human though, he had his own life and his own friends, she would always be there, but his current friends wouldn’t so maybe he was just making the most of things. It made sense, next year they would be graduating, and they’d never see most people again. After all, she still had summer, and you’ll never have the summer you had at seventeen. 

*

Y/n pulled the photo album out of her wardrobe, brushing the dust off before sitting cross-legged on her bed. It had been a while since she’d taken a walk down memory lane, more prompted to revise over what life was like before high school started, when times were simpler and smiling came easy. 

Each photo still had pristine quality, her and the Hughes’ boys on paddleboards, from her and Luke sat together to Jack and Quinn drenched with a capsized board, their treehouse sleepover where they got yelled at in the next morning for being noisy, the time where they played roller hockey and she grazed her elbow, her decorating Jack’s hair with glitter hair clips and a whole lot of her and Luke thick and thieves. Her and Luke at the fireworks, hand in hand, playing Swingball, asleep on the sofa, making friendship bracelets. The bracelets they still wore, even if they weren’t as close anymore. Both blue with a little white braided in, a matching pair. 

In every photo of herself and Luke, there was not even one where Luke’s attention was on the camera, his eyes were always lit up and focused on her. Each page she turned, the memory played like tapes, vividly and she remembered all the times he’d tried his best to impress her. When she told him that she liked his hair longer, he grew it. When she liked a specific item of clothing, he wore it more. He defended her when Jack and his friends laughed at her, held her closer in the crowds at the carnival, everything about his life revolved around her. Kissing her cheek when they were eleven must have taken a lot of courage and she brushed it off as a friendly gesture. And what did she do? After all his efforts, the way he was utterly enamoured when they kissed in her treehouse, she went on to agree to a date with some loser she didn’t really like because she was too oblivious to realise that Luke, her best friend, had been heads over heels for her since they were kids, and she was too late in accepting that. Luke would have never kissed her if he didn’t like her and now at seventeen, he really didn’t.

How things fall into a complex circle, a game of cat and mouse. Chasing, running, chasing and running, back and forth, back and forth. Guilt tore through her body and she slammed the album closed, running her hands over her face. Perfect, she liked him back the moment he was hard to reach. That horrid guilt in her, that empty feeling when her stomach dropped to the bottom, heart twisting in her chest when she thought about the pain, she’d put him through. It wasn’t over, it couldn’t be over, there must’ve been some part of Luke that still held on to hope. What felt like a fire lit inside her stomach, she wasn’t going to lose him yet. The summer was approaching, and over summer she’d have him all to herself with endless possibilities to talk to him, win him over again, prove that he wasn’t just a friend. She would not give up on Luke.

*

When the summer hit, all of Luke’s efforts hit the fan. She lived right next door now. He woke up every day only to see y/n flaunting around in her bikinis, he didn’t think she could get more beautiful but now she was stunning and as much as Luke tried not to check her out, he did every time. Luke himself spent more time at the gym, grew into his features and he towered over his brothers, he wasn’t hard to miss, y/n resisted the urge to gawk at him with his summer glow. 

It felt like his childhood all over again, all of them hanging out on the boat, him and y/n sitting opposite each other, Quinn driving, Jack, Trevor, Cole towards the back hogging the wakeboard and now y/n’s friend, Kim (who had bulging heart eyes towards Cole) sitting next to her. Every now and then he’d catch a glimpse of y/n from the corner of his eye, posed pretty with her chest puffed out, large sunglasses perched on her nose with her lips wrapped around the straw of a canned cocktail as she listened to Kim talk. Butterflies fluttered into his stomach all over again, he hadn’t looked at her properly in so long, he felt eleven again looking at her like she was the embodiment of Aphrodite sent down to Earth for him. What he couldn’t see was y/n looking at him back, eyes raking his figure and the way his curls bounced in the breeze, shorts fit around his thighs, smirk sat pretty on his lips. It was like the sun shone a halo around his head and her heart couldn’t have beat more profoundly out her chest.

When the evening fell, Luke stood on his porch, empty bottles of beer in his hands as he watched her boat pull into her dock, Kim lugging a picnic bag over her shoulder and waving off as she left for home. He hadn’t meant to, but it was a moment of weakness, one of those moments where he wondered if he had just been a little stronger, able to cope better with being so close to her while living in pain, if he’d be the one out there in the boat, enjoying a cute picnic dinner on the waters.  

Y/n struggled as she failed to tie the boat to the dock, the knot slipping, and she groaned in frustration. After a long day in the sun, the last thing she wanted to deal with was her own lack of strength. With the rope clutched in her fingers, she groaned loudly, glancing around for at least someone to help her until her eyes fell upon Luke at his porch. She called his name, waving him over desperately, letting him discard the bottles in his hands before he waltzed his way down the porch and through his garden.

“Need help?” Luke’s voice called out to her as he strolled along the dock, shading his eyes from the setting sun as he approached her.

She stepped away, handing him the rope, watching the way his arms flexed as he pulled the knot tight against the cleat, “Thanks, that was being a pain in the ass.” 

“They always are, the worst is waking up and seeing the rope snapped, that’s a pain in the ass.” He chuckled, remembering the morning he found Quinn with his head in his hands with a snapped rope at his feet and boat floating four feet away from the dock. They stood in an uncomfortable silence, the lake’s critters singing their songs with the occasional car driving in the distance. He stuffed his hands into his pockets, shaking his hair out of his eyes, “Sooo, it’s been a while, huh? How have, uh, you been?” 

“All right, you? Congrats on fourth overall pick, by the way, I knew you’d get there. You excited?” She smiled, rolling back on her heels and folding her arms under her chest.

“Yeah, I’ve been okay too. Sorry I didn’t reply to your text, I had so many I’m still getting through them, but thank you,” he chuckled, watching her shoulders raise as she gave a little huff in amusement, “and I guess, I’m happy that I’ll be with Jack but it’s gonna be tough. But I’ll worry about it later, I’m planning on college first, making some friends and that. Speaking of, Cameron, really?”

She forgot about him; he was that irrelevant she had actually forgotten she’d briefly dated her classmate, Cameron. She only did it in hope Luke would interrogate her, it made her a horrible person, yes, but Cameron was no saint by any means either. She hoped Luke would do what he normally did, get protective and ask her a million questions, like he did with Roller Rink, and he’d swoop in and woo her away instead, but when Luke only glared and scoffed, her plan for his attention had failed. 

Y/n’s eyebrows raised, and she blew out a defeated puff of air, shaking her head at Luke, “Don’t even go there, Lu. A wet rag would have a more interesting personality than he ever would. Thank God it’s over, finally. Surprised you didn’t interrogate me at the time.”

“Eh, I thought about it, but I didn’t wanna be that guy, y’know?” he shrugged, a static sensation crawling its way from the pits of his stomach where he’d shoved it, scuttling through his limbs and into his muscles. That euphoric feeling from the treehouse two years or so ago prying its way back into his memory the more they spoke. The feeling was exactly what he was running from, he couldn’t help liking her more than a friend but all the weight on his shoulders lifted and he felt free again, like being a professional hockey prodigy didn’t matter to her, she would like him anyway as just Luke. 

“You’d never annoy me like that.” They fell into a silence, Luke prodding the decking with the tip of his slides, y/n watching him occupy himself. She forgot how being with him felt. He felt exactly like they were standing, warm summer evenings on the docks with the breeze in their hair, in a smitten haze where nothing mattered. “Lu? Where’d you go? What happened to us?”

He froze and stood properly, eyes squinting from the sun’s glare as he looked up slowly. He hadn’t gone anywhere, is what he wanted to say but the wet glaze in her eyes suggested that y/n would’ve torn him to shreds if he kept avoiding her. He’d hurt her enough. His throat dried, a lump forming when he swallowed, “I…I got swept up in this whole draft business, family were really on my back about the whole thing, then I had Five Nations last year and Worlds next year, practice was intense and um, I was losing time with my friends…I guess. They’re likely moving out of state for college, and we’ll probably never see each other after high school.”

He wasn’t lying but what he really wanted to say refused to leave his throat, like the words were stuck in his chest.

She nodded, it was a valid answer, it made sense, she knew how his life revolved around hockey, when had it not? It just didn’t feel like he’d said everything he wanted to say, but he didn’t continue. He watched her purse her lips, the pinks from the sky fading into dark and the moon reflected over the lake, little lamps on the dock glowing yellow around them. If there were any moment he could kiss her, it would have been then. It had to be that moment when he felt his younger self spring to life within, entranced with her existence alone and the memory of the day they met, her hand reaching out to him specifically and never letting it go. Not Jack’s, not Quinn’s, always his.

“That’s fair enough,” she gave a gentle chuckle, “maybe a little warning next time, I thought I pissed you off.”

“Never, I’m sorry about that, I should’ve said,” he laughed with her until they settled, “well, I should get going before I ruin game night for the family, it was nice to chat again.”

“Yeah, it was. Thanks for tying the boat, see you ‘round.” With little nods and longing smiles, they both turned, heading in opposite directions towards the paths up their yards until the sudden burst of adrenaline rose in her chest. There wasn’t a lot to lose anymore, they were on good terms, he wasn’t pissed off with her and what better way to give him a fat hint, “Lu!”

He stopped in his tracks and turned towards her yelling, he hadn’t made it too far down the dock, her voice was crystal clear and his nickname in her voice just made his chest swell. 

“You’re looking good these days!” 

That uncontrollable urge to grin took over his muscles like he was a puppet, she’d finally noticed. His hair kept long the snug swim shorts, t-shirts and polos in styles she’d once said suited him. How could he not feel a buzz run through him, almost dizzying. As if on autopilot, fuelled by this sudden nostalgic rapture, he called back,

“And you’re still pretty!” 

No, she was beautiful, but he’d rather not yell when he knew his brothers were chewing table legs waiting for him. If he admitted it now, he’d never go back, he’d fold all over again and although she thought he looked good, spent their conversation glancing at his arms and lips, showing sprinkles of indications that perhaps he was still in the running after all, making his move after he’d sat in the backseat for so long pretending like he wasn’t interested just felt wrong. He had so much to explain before he even tried.

*

Another year, another carnival and y/n thought she’d be enjoying the games and food stalls with her best friend, Kim. She thought they’d be in photobooths, laughing over the stupid games that the odd person won and trying out the new churros stall but instead, the moment Cole offered to accompany her on a few rides, y/n knew she’d be on her own until the fireworks. She had no idea where Luke was, so tagging along with him was off the list as well and she was not going to hang around the parents and her brother and his friends, gross.

The woman behind the counter smiled, handing the cone of churros to y/n before turning to the family next to her. Kim may have been missing out, but she sure was not going to pass up the opportunity for fresh and warm sweet treats that only cost her a couple dollars. She stepped to the side, away from the counter, the aroma of sugary delights filling her senses as she took her first bite. She hadn’t tasted something so incredible since she discovered what pancakes were. 

A firm hand on her lower back wiped all sense of a blissful retreat from her body, her grip on the churros tightening and she froze, a cold presence looming over her with his hot breath plaguing her neck. Why? Why in all places where there are families with children? She wanted to run but her legs locked into place, that horrific fear chilling her spine and the default thought that it was over echoing in her mind. 

“You look a little lonely, I can keep you company.” The guy breathed deeply in her ear, with a suggestive tinge in the way he spoke. She didn’t dare look him in the eye, just peered through her peripheral vision enough to know he was at least in his twenties. 

“I’m not, I’m with my boyfriend, actually.” She replied, as confidently as she could possibly bear without bursting into tears. His thumb rubbed against the fabric of her jeans, her appetite sinking into nausea.

“It’s okay, sweetheart. I don’t bite.” He pinched a churro from her cone and now they’d been infected, now she didn’t want them anymore. The closer he stood to her, the filthier she felt like it was all her fault for not moving away. Y/n’s eyes remained fixed to the grass below, tears welling and her throat closing as she choked back a sob. She squeezed her eyes shut, helplessness overruling every ounce of strength she had the closer the guy pressed himself into her back.

“Yeah, but I do so fuck off.” Luke’s voice clipped, his hand sliding over her shoulders gently. Y/n’s eyes snapped open, immediately recognising the white Air Forces and the voice in her ears, legs finally gaining the ability to move again, and she let Luke’s hand guide her into him instead, dropping the churros into the bin nearby. She wrapped her arms around his middle, ear pressed to his chest and the tears ran hot, yet the way his arms secured around her shoulders brought a warm sense of belonging somewhere. 

“Woah, easy tiger. Was just making sure the little lady was safe in a place like this-” the guy raised his hands in front of his chest as if to surrender, an amused smirk smeared across his face as Luke’s stare darkened. His guilt taunted him, he should’ve been there and then she wouldn’t be shaking in his arms. Kim shouldn’t have ditched her, and he should have been a friend and stuck by her side. The minute he saw the guy approach her, his vision burned red and he was shoving his way through the crowds, whatever people were shouting at him couldn’t have mattered less. 

“-I’m calling security.” Luke exasperated, and he would’ve called security if the woman with her child at the stall nearby hadn’t already done so, the creep swearing and making a break for it. Y/n pulled her face away from his chest with red eyes, arms loosely wound around his waist still as she peered up at him. Luke’s eyes softened and on instinct his palms cupped her cheeks, wiping the remaining tears away with his thumbs. “I got you, s’just you and me.”

Her eyes sparkled under the fairy lights, stared at him like he was an angel sent from the skies to watch over her and he knew it. He saw it just as she saw his ears tint pink again. They hadn’t done that in months. He hadn’t felt that hot in months and the outside temperature was breezy. 

Y/n hoped he kiss her. Right there, where they were alone. Their eyes never leaving each other’s and his hands jolting electrifying sparks over her skin. She’d forgotten what it felt like to be touched my him, how light she felt. The less and less they’d touched, spoken, been in each other’s proximity the more intense the memory and feeling crashed over her in waves of yearning. The voice in her head begging him, Luke! Please stop running! I love you! Love me like you once did! 

His hands dropped and slipped into his short’s pockets, his gaze eventually leaving hers and jumping to the flashing lights of the stalls surrounding them, “You all right?” 

“I am now, thanks.” 

“I’m sorry,” he watched her open her mouth to speak, but he couldn’t keep it in his chest, she was there, and his emotions were running too fast to think about what he was doing.  The words spilled out, “I’m sorry for not being there. Now and over the past year. Y/n, I’m so fucking sorry. I wanted to tell you at the docks but, I dunno, I fucked it and then it was too late and-”

Her hands balled around his t-shirt, pulling him closer, “Lu, it’s okay. I forgive you.”

“No, no you might not,” he ran his hands through his hair harshly, “it wasn’t just because of hockey and my friends. I was jealous and insecure and that feels so good to finally admit. You went on a date with what’s-his-face, and I don’t know, I guess I thought I was being replaced and I was stupid about it, then it got too deep and fuck!” And I was so in love with you and then I lost my chance.

Y/n didn’t let go of him. His hands slipped back into his pockets, and he waited, eyes searching hers with sympathy written in them, the guilt on his face with shaky breaths. That was it? He was just insecure and was unable to process it? She heard him out, she would have probably thought the same and at that age, it wasn’t easy to just speak up about it, especially when you think you have no chance at all. She wasn’t mad, disappointed slightly, angrier at herself that he felt like he couldn’t tell her. 

“I forgive you. I probably would have done the same thing, honestly. Yeah, you were stupid, that was really stupid, and it really hurt. I’m also sorry for making you feel like you were being replaced. But if it brings any reassurance, no one would ever be able to replace you.” She pulled him into a hug, arms wrapping around his middle again and his around her shoulders, their height difference making them fit perfectly.

They pulled away after a few seconds, Luke clearing his throat as they stepped back awkwardly, “We should, um, probably head to the spot now.” 

“Oh, yeah! Yeah, totally. Um, thanks for stepping in again…I really appreciate it.” She blinked twice and fixed her hair, snapping out of her daze, the corners of her lips quirking upwards. Luke nodded before they re-entered the crowds, her arm looping around his as he led them through, glancing at her every now and then until they’d slipped out the other side, catching sight of Jack and his friends heading in the same direction as them.

Their families chose the specific spot when they were kids, it was out the way of the popular viewing places and to reach it required tackling a tedious staircase to the top of the hill, but it was the best spot that looked over the carnival below. Like most years, the two families were divided into their own little huddles, but Luke and y/n stood together like they were eleven again. Her grip around his arm tightened a little, head leaning against his arm and unleashing a giddy tingle into Luke’s chest. Y/n’s heart raced like she’d never been alone with him before, like it was the first time she’d been alone with him and God, just thinking about how Luke had kissed her for the first time in that exact spot just made her stomach warm. 

He slipped his hand out of his pocket slowly, keeping his eyes on the sky as the firework display’s music faded in. Like feathers, her fingers ran down his forearm, tracing over his skin and veins that ran hot with a resurfacing captivation like a drug he just couldn’t quit. Without saying a word or giving each other any kind of endearing look, her palm met his and fingers interlaced, rebuilding the bridge between the two lost souls as the pinks and reds of whirlwinds and willows reflected over gleaming eyes.

*

The Hughes family threw parties all the time, had been since they moved in next to the L/n’s all those years ago. Jim and Ellen always had some sort of party for the boys and as they grew older, Jack more or less became the main host, especially with the arrival of Trevor and Cole. That night it was the two families along with the Tkachuks, who moved to the lake a few years prior, who held some sort of belated celebration for Luke’s drafting success. According to Ellen, they would have done it nearer the time, but Quinn insisted the Tkachuks should join since they had played such a big role in the Hughes’ lives. 

Afternoon barbeques drifted into evening drinks and s’mores around the bonfire, Jack and Cole tossing marshmallows into each other’s mouths, Matthew telling Trevor (who spilled molten marshmallow on his knee and was trying to wipe it off with great struggle) a detailed story from one of his NHL games, Brady and Quinn debating something, it wasn’t entirely clear anymore what the topic was but they seemed to be in disagreement either way and Luke’s eyes flickered around the fire, in search of his person. Her brother was still there, kicking a ball around on the grass with a couple of his friends he’d been allowed to invite. Her parents were inside talking to the other parents. 

He stood up, unnoticed by the others, and wandered to the side gate, taking a quick look back before slipping out quietly and ambling next door to the l/n’s side gate, silently turning the hatch and letting himself into their garden. As he suspected, a faint, amber glowed from the window of the treehouse and those fairy lights didn’t turn on by themselves. With a sigh of relief, Luke carefully made his way across the garden, his footsteps heavy on the wooden stairs up to the platform and he opened the door a crack before letting himself into the structure.

The treehouse felt tiny compared to when they were kids. He was too tall for it now, having to duck under the door and crane his neck slightly, shutting it behind him. Y/n sat against the wall, staring out the window with her legs stretched out in front of her. She’d watched him come up the stairs, and it brought the slightest bit of relief that someone had noticed her absence. Luke sat next to her, shoulder to shoulder with his back against the wall like hers, the little lights that hung around the top of the walls giving their skin a dim glow. 

“What’cha doin’ up here, pretty?” he asked softly.

 She turned her head to face the wall opposite, head bumping the wood, “Got cold and needed to think. What about you? Don’t you wanna be down there, gettin’ advice from the big dogs?” 

“Would rather be here with you.” He chuckled lightly, Deja vu of the conversation. The last time they sat in the treehouse together, before things spiralled. She shivered, running her hands over her arms to rid the goosebumps. Luke shimmied his sweatshirt over his head, the navy blue ‘USA Hockey’ one he always thought would look better on her, “Here, put this on.” 

“You sure?” he nodded, and she pulled the sweatshirt over her head, the size engulfing her but she was too warm to care, “Thanks, but really, how did you know I was here?”

“Had a feeling. Do you wanna talk about it?” 

She stayed quiet for a little moment before speaking, “M’just a little worried about college. My friends applied so far out of state with all these cool stories from relationships and drama and shit and I feel a little…boring. What if people at UMich think I’m boring? What if I’m gonna be alone? I’m not boring, am I?” 

“If it brings you any comfort, I’m worried too. You know my friends are leaving the state too, and I also haven’t exactly been the most exciting socially either, just those odd parties, you remember those surely,” he muttered, his voice raspy as she nodded, “you’re not boring, by the way, never losing a game of beer pong is a talent people will kill for in college, and you won’t be alone. You’re the most likeable person I’ve ever met, and I admire how you find talking to people so easy. Remember when we started high school? You jumped straight into the jungle and made friends within the first day, took me a week to properly make mine, I was terrified. Besides, I’ll be there so you can always come find me.”

 Y/n didn’t reply, but she soaked in his voice and how easy the words left his mouth. He always knew just what to say, and that was yet another reason why she loved him. She sighed, leaning her head against his bicep, gently nuzzling her cheek into him as if to comfort herself. If only he’d wrapped her arm around her, but resting his head against hers was enough, just like they had when they were kids watching Harry Potter. Back when Luke pined over her and she didn’t think too much of it, not knowing what it was, what it meant. He may have been the only guy that ever loved her like that. Roller Rink was far more interested in the idea of having a girlfriend and Cameron…Cameron couldn’t have cared less about who she was as long as she had female anatomy. 

“Do you think I’m lovable? Like, not because of the way I look.” She babbled out of the blue, Luke’s eyebrows knitting with confusion at her sudden question, but he had asked what was on her mind.

“I think you’re the most lovable person there is. You’re funny, you’re witty, you have this admirable determination and ability to socially chameleon. Oh God, and you’re so sweet, always know how to make someone feel at peace. What’s-his-face and fucking Cameron have no idea what they’re missing.” He rambled, a smile spreading across his face as the lights in the room sparkled in his eyes. She looked at him with awe, his voice like a song that would now become her favourite as he talked with adoration, valuing her as a human being with her flaws and perfections that crumbled the walls he’d spent so long building.

“Lu…” She wanted to say something back, kiss his face all over, take him by the cheeks and kiss his lips so hard they wouldn’t be able to breathe. That comfortable silence between them where eyes met and debated leaning in, submitting to his childhood crush and her adolescent realisation.

Her phone buzzed, she hesitantly pulled her eyes from his and after reading the notification she slammed the device back onto the floor, groaning and rolling her eyes. She grabbed her phone back, swiping and blocking Cameron’s Instagram. Blocking was crazy, but it was the only way he’d stop begging her for ‘another chance’. 

“Going by that reaction, I’m taking that was Cameron?” Luke raised his eyebrow, watching her place her phone to the side and lean back into the wall. 

“Can I tell you something, but you can’t tell anyone, not even your brothers…okay?” She breathed out, staring at both their feet. 

Luke hesitated, shivers running up his spine, “Yeah, I didn’t tell anyone about the twenty-fifteen fireworks, did I?”

“Ugh, he was awful, I’m actually glad it didn’t last long. Such an asshole, I just couldn’t do anything right for him. Bad girlfriend, bad person, bad kisser, prude. And talk about peer pressure, I didn’t wanna have sex with him, right? Because if I’m gonna lose my virginity it’s definitely not gonna be with him, and then he got all pissy and said that if I didn’t, he’d tell people I was a bad fuck, couldn’t make him cum or whatever. Anyway, you probably heard the rumours.” Y/n took a deep breath, she wasn’t sure why she was telling Luke that, but why would he tell anyone? It wasn’t like he had any more experience than her.

“What happened next?” he asked, deep down his blood boiled, the nonchalant facade he’d been building up began to crumble the more they found themselves alone, the more childhood memories that flooded back to him and reminded him of how much of a coward he was, that he should’ve just shoot his shot instead of running away.

“Then I caught him cheating, broke up with him and he threw a tantrum about it, started talking shit about you, saying how I was probably cheating on him first anyway, so it all cancels out. Told his friends that he caught me sucking your dick and how distraught he was over it. Next day he happily made out with his new girl in the hall, so I obviously did not matter at all and was just a plaything.” She chuckled sadly, leaning her head onto Luke’s bicep. He wanted to scream, hold her tight and tell her how wrong she was about herself, that she wasn’t a plaything, that he was a prick. But he couldn’t, instead his mind travelled to the worst parts of him, he would’ve beaten the hell out of Cameron given the chance. His deepest fantasies crept back to him like a virus all over again. 

“You don’t deserve to be treated like that,” his voice lowered, gaze peering down to her with a fiery glaze in his eyes and she looked back at him, curious. “I’d never treat you like that, you’d mean everything to me. Every word, every kiss, everything.”

She released a shaky breath, adrenaline sparking in her chest, “I can’t stop thinking about how easy it was to move on for him, I just want to forget the humiliation, but I don’t know how to do that.” 

His gaze burned through her, a rush of desire surging, and she’d never seen his face soften like that before, like he was thinking carefully. Luke’s hand reached for hers, sliding over her thigh and lacing their fingers together, like they always seem to do. From the pits of his brain, eleven-year-old Luke squeaked out to him and his heart screamed to grasp the opportunity: stop being stubborn, you like her, you like her, you like her, you still like her.

“We could make out, we’ve already kissed here, and if he can do it, why can’t you? Think of it as liberation.” She would have thought he was joking if it weren’t for the way his voice dropped and calm tone. He was dead serious, not a drop of amusement in his voice but he was right, they had already kissed once so what was the harm in doing it again? She peered up at him, eyes scanning his features, flickering between his lips and waiting gaze.

She’d be a fool to pass up Luke Hughes’ attention after growing apart from him. When he suggested making out, why would she pass it up, the guy still gave her butterflies even if she was just holding onto a painful delusion written by the past. It wouldn’t do any harm, it would take her mind off her turmoil, the haunting thoughts that a boy used her, and humiliated her. It wouldn’t do any harm; it was just a kiss. Only a kiss that would stick with her, their mutual magnetic pull over the summer striking up the same thought between them. Maybe they did like each other the same. 

Letting go of his hand, she hoisted her leg over his and straddled his lap, hand settling on his chest. A newfound adrenaline lit up inside her like wildfire, his large hands cupping her jaw with nerves wrecking his body, thumb rubbing her cheek. He wet his lips, his one hand sliding to her nape, and he pulled her in slowly.

“Yeah, liberation.” She whispered, closing the gap between them, lips meeting timidly before she melted into his body, Luke’s tongue ran across her bottom lip, a moan drawing from the back of her throat as she let him in, licking into his mouth with a sweet desire. 

Neither had an expert understanding of how to make out, but the more they fell into a rhythm of disconnecting for a breath, just to connect again for another taste, the more electric the tension between them became. She slid her hand from his chest to his curls, fingers tangling in the loose ringlets and tugging tenderly, too caught up in the pleasure to think coherently. Luke moaned hungrily, his hand gliding from her nape down the curve of her spine and his hand settling on her hip, fingers gripping her hipbone the moment she rolled into his crotch. The buzz from the gathering next door was silenced in their ears, the only noises in their proximity being the sound of their lips eating each other and tongues lapping in a hot and heavy haze, whines slipping in as a warm temptation flushed through them. He bucked his hips up, as if on an instinct, following his heart rather than his head for once. 

Even if they couldn’t keep their hands off each other, they pulled back panting, eyes locked in a risky delirium. He ran his thumb over her swollen bottom lip, gulping when she wrapped her lips around the fingertip, sucking softly and swirling her tongue while refusing to drop the intense eye contact. Luke’s heart thundered, hard. So strongly he could feel it in his ears and undoubtedly his cheeks were pink. They were in each other’s grasps, overridden with a lewd rhapsody that had the bottom of their stomachs twisting and eyes half-lidded with lust. If Luke could feel how her underwear stuck to her in that moment, she would have never been able to recover from it. Kissing him so deeply with every ounce of desire that riddled her bones sent her into a dizzy haze, pussy throbbing for more every time he adjusted his hips up to meet hers. 

“What else can that mouth do?” he muttered, watching a new side of the girl he grew up with. His head was in a whole new place, a foggy mess all because she squirmed on his lap, felt euphoric on his tongue and kissed him like she meant it, like his hands over her body was all it took to light the spark that burned between them.

She released his thumb with a coy smile, a string of saliva between her bottom lip and his thumb. She could feel how tight his shorts had become and gave her hips another roll over his crotch, thriving in how his breath hitched, “Wanna find out?”

“Please.” He said with a shaky breath, hands finding their way to her thighs, running his palms along the flesh. 

Y/n bit her bottom lip, readjusting her seating by spreading his legs and setting herself on her knees between them. Although not comfortable, that was the least of her concerns. She flipped the hem of his t-shirt up and unbuckled his belt, fumbling with the button of his shorts and tucking her fingers into his boxer’s waistband. He lifted his hips, allowing her to shimmy his bottoms down just enough for his cock to spring free. He leant his head against the wall, hands covering his face when she rubbed languid strokes over his cock, thriving in his muffled whines when her thumb circled the pre-cum around his tip. 

“Mm, so big, Lu.” She hummed, spitting into her palm and giving him hard strokes from the base, smiling at how his Adam’s Apple bobbed. God, he wished he hated it, wished he didn’t feel ecstatic when she called him his nickname, the name only she called him. He wished he hated how her hand looked tiny against his cock, how good he felt.

“Shit,” he whined, “need your mouth already, please, y/n, please.”

“Only if you stop hiding, I wanna see your face.” She gave his tip relentless kitten licks, a vicious thrill shuddering down her limbs to her core. He did as he was told, hands trying to grip the wood beneath them and she grinned, taking him into her mouth and just to drive him insane, moaning and his taste blessing her taste buds. 

“Oh God,” he breathed raggedly, a twinge of a groan mixed in as her tongue lay flat on the underside of his cock, swallowing him as if she’d done it hundreds of times before like she’d thought about it intensely. Her name left his mouth in a mantra, followed by swearing and whimpers he never imagined himself making. 

She peered up through her lashes, the moan she let out reverberating around his cock with such a tainted pleasure that he gasped, his eyes fluttering open to the sight of her bobbing her head over him, watching him lose himself with a burning face and submissive mewls emitting from his lips. Writhing under his childhood best friend’s mouth, in her treehouse of all places while she sucked him off with shameless lust wasn’t something he expected. She had him a moaning mess and for a moment he thought that only she could be capable of doing so. There wasn’t a chance any other girl could make him feel that much emotion during such a filthy act, his childhood crush flooding back to him all over again, all that excitement, nerves, butterflies in his stomach and now the adolescent storm of love, lust, desire, dedication and everything that got mixed up in between.

He tensed, y/n’s free hand skirting up his shirt and splaying over his abs, feeling all the dips in muscles as his core tightened the deeper she took him, hissing when his cock hit the back of her throat. How on Earth she managed it, he wouldn’t know, and he didn’t care because it felt exhilarating, sweat forming on his forehead. He bucked his hips up, an erotic, deep moan drawing out from her. 

“Fuck, so close, m’gonna cum,” he breathed, “gonna cum, y/n, please.” 

His thighs shuddered, her hands lying flat on them as Luke exhaled deeply, the knot in his core unravelling as he thrust into her mouth, his hot cum coating her tongue and throat and his jaw slacked, panting when she swallowed every drop of him, as much as she could before pulling her lips off him. His eyes pricked tears from overstimulation, fluttering shut as his chest rose and fell.

“Where-where’d you learn that?” he whispered, tucking himself back into his underwear and re-dressing himself. It was as if his high wore off, the world tuned back in, and he could hear the buzz of his family’s gathering next door again. 

She wiped the dribble of cum from her lip with her finger, taking it into her mouth and licking it clean, “I read a lot, followed my instincts.” 

“Fuck, that felt incredible. You’re incredible, never gonna forget that. Fuck, you’re still an amazing kisser, oh my fucking God.” He couldn’t help but smile, it felt like old times. The easy air where no judgement lurked, secrets could be spilt and they’d stay between the two of them, he’d sit there, admiring and folding over how pretty she was while she’d treat him like a prince. Perhaps they’d just made another bad choice, how could he not ignore his feelings now, it was so hard to resist temptation and push back the butterflies. After all those months running away from himself, from her and all that achieved was him running back around straight into her grip again. He was done with running; he was going to give himself one last chance.

With a giggle, she crawled out from between his legs and re-took her seat next to him, “Now that was memorable. Remind me to kiss you more. Do you make noises like that for every girl? They were so fucking hot.” 

“Nah, only you. Been only you. Kissed only you.” Luke let a chuckle pass his lips, closing his eyes and grinning to himself. She exhaled, peeking up at him in his peaceful state. Only her, only her. Even after all that time, he’d never looked at another girl. She was the only girl he’d ever kissed, only ever done anything with and even after he’d kept her far from his reach, it was because he only ever wanted her. Now they had each other, side-by-side, in her treehouse where she’d given her first ever blowjob and she didn’t regret one second of it, and never would despite however life turned out. 

“You won’t tell anyone about this…will you?” her voice was quiet, and she pulled her knees to her chest. “Not because I’m ashamed but like, well, you know, kinda embarrassing people knowing our business…”

Luke copied her, resting his arms over his knees, “I’m not gonna say anything if you don’t want me to, y/n. You know I wouldn’t do that, but I get what you mean. I really don’t want my brothers talking about it, and you know Jack can’t even keep his own secrets.”

“Are we cool now? No more of- whatever we’ve been doing?” she held out her fist.

“We’re cool. Just you ‘n me again.” He bumped her fist with his, “We’re thinking of taking the boat out again tomorrow, you should come.”

She nudged his shoulder with hers, “Maybe I will, maybe I’ll wear my best bikini.” 

“Maybe you should, maybe I’ll wear the blue shorts.” He nudged back, both knowing exactly which items of swimwear they were referencing. The hibiscus pattern bikini that couldn’t have suited her any more perfectly and the swim shorts that hugged his thighs too nicely, that he only wore after he’d caught her staring.

They smiled brightly, lights reflecting in their eyes as they leaned into each other’s sides. The sweet sensation of closure, burying a hatchet in the place it all started. It wasn’t a conventional way to make up, but feelings resolved that night, messages conveyed and for those few hours they spent up there, they were finally on the same page.

*

Reconnecting with someone who was once your entire world changes your perception of life itself. The sun shone brighter, the air warmer and serotonin at an all-time high. What they hadn’t realised was that reconnecting after straying away came with a thick tension between them, not like a negative, doom and gloom but something else. Something exciting.

On boat days, every time their eyes would meet, stomachs would twist and feel a heat pool in their cores. Every little move felt suggestive, every time he adjusted the way he sat so his shorts would rise up his thighs slightly, every time she adjusted her bikini, when he’d place his hand on her hips as he’d walk past, sitting on his lap and playing with his curls to make more space for the others on the seats.

At the golf course, with his lean arms wrapped around her, hands on top of hers and guiding her positioning and swing of the club, his breathing on her neck making her body melt into his and Luke fighting off the urge to drop the club entirely and pull her into his embrace, to pepper her neck with butterfly kisses until he found her sweet spot.

Nights around the firepit, cuddled on his lap in the lawn chair wearing his hoodie, his hand stroking her thigh and mumbling conversations between each other, lips dangerously close with hot breaths on each other's necks.

Naps where they lay on each other's chests, arms wound around bodies and legs tangled under sheets and blankets.

The difference between their reconnecting and the average person’s reconnecting was that actions spoke louder than words, but neither were speaking up. Luke had done his best, been explicit in the treehouse, held her close whenever they were together. Y/n was in a bumbling state, accepting every one of Luke’s attempts, relishing in the feeling of being loved and appreciated, hoping her time and attention would be enough for him.

The difference between Luke and y/n couldn’t have been more obvious to a bystander. Luke, a shameless loverboy enduring the relentless teasing from his brothers about how down bad he was and y/n, endeared but tortured Luke with her inability to verbalise her feelings, an overthinker. Luke spent so many years being direct about himself and y/n spent so many years stuck in her head and generating the worst possible situations. All he wanted was confirmation, something that said ‘You’re my only too, my everything. Only you’, something from her vocal cords.

Y/n wiped the sweat from her forehead with her arm, knees sore from kneeling on the grass for so long and hands soaking from the gardening gloves. Her mum had gone crazy with her flowers again, and insisted she needed the family to help her plant the new bulbs much to her father and brother’s dismay. The worst part was the chatter from the Hughes’, taunting her with how much fun they were having and how she was doing manual labour in the heat. A whole morning of listening to laughter, Jack and Trevor’s voices above anyone else's but all she thought about was Luke and his smile, his real laugh that came from his chest, the way he laughed with his body. All while she dug holes just to refill them again.

Somewhere around noon, she had thrown the gloves off and stood up, exhaling deeply and next door still had fun without her. God, if her fear of missing out was that bad then college would be excruciating. Having enough and falling submissive to her FOMO, she climbed her treehouse stairs, settling on the step that was high enough to see over the garden fence. 

You don’t deserve to be treated like that, I’d never treat you like that, you’d mean everything to me. Every word, every kiss, everything.

For a guy who’d been all over her, confessed that he felt something for her and told her that everything between them meant something to him, she sure became suspicious of it. Her stomach sank, tongue poking the inside of her cheek at him looking perfectly entertained pressed between two girls on the outdoor sofa, one of them suspiciously close to his face. She could only see him from behind, but she knew any girl who entered the Hughes residence was drop-dead gorgeous and if there was one thing she had learnt was that boys suck. He didn’t flinch out the way, didn’t move seats, didn’t push them off, he just let them. Jumping to conclusions wasn’t the person she wanted to be, but the festering irritation in her stomach wasn’t ignorable. Yet she trusted him, and before she would deep it, she wanted to think first, at least ask him about it before her jealousy got the best of her. She turned on her heel, thumped down the stairs and continued her gardening, which was now a lot more fun than next door.

Luke’s face burned red, only Jack would do him dirty in front of his cousins like that. His business was apparently the family’s business. The whole morning he’d been interrogated by his cousins about y/n, how she was, what she was up to, was she cute, did she make him happy, what she looked like. He pulled his phone out, opening his camera roll and pulling up a photo of her, his cousins leaning into him for a better look of the screen in the sun. 

“Oh my god, she’s so pretty, Luke!” Beth mused.

“How have you not asked her out?” Stephanie asked in a hushed voice, earning giggles from Jack and Quinn.

“I have been trying since I was eleven, okay? She’s just…not easy to read sometimes. I mean, I think we’re on the same page now, so I was gonna ask her next time I see her, ask her on a date to our favourite arcade.” He grinned at the thought, he’d planned it when he was fifteen and had been counting down the days to finally ask her himself.

He lay in bed that same night, seconds away from rolling over and turning his lamp off until his phone flashed, an influx of y/n’s texts coming through like wildfire. Running his hand over his dreary face, he picked his phone back up, reading each message one by one with unease. He squinted his eyes as if it would clear his confusion, her sudden outburst of accusations making him replay the events of the day.

Y/n/n  Who were those girls??? Why were they literally on you Luluuuu how many girls are you gettiiinnng Lulu  Huh? What are you talking about Oh they were my cousins. You met them years ago. I was showing them pics of you They were not on me thats gross they were looking at my phone so untwist your panties

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat, or it felt like it. He was showing pictures of her? To his family?

Y/n/n  ?? Beth and Steph?? That was NOT them they were blonde as fuck My panties are fine thank you Lulu  LMAO yeah it was Didn’t know you were spying on me you lil peepin tom Yeah sure sounds like it. It’s okay to be ✨jealous✨ but you’re still no.1  Y/n/n  Ok I believe you WAS NOT SPYING WAS STUCK DOING GARDENING AND WAS CURIOUS Not jealous loser

Luke blew a puff of air through his nose, liking the message and placing the phone on his nightstand before rolling over. Usually, he was the one biting back his tongue, but seeing her jealous for once just made his heart swell a little more, it was cute, she cared. 

Y/n lay face down in her bed, face stuffed into her pillow and arms by her side. At least the irritation left but now she just felt like an idiot. But not a big idiot since she at least asked Luke what was going on, but still an idiot for even assuming he’d go and do something like that to her. She just hoped Luke didn’t think she was stupid.

*

Y/n hung her head in defeat, she tied the knot exactly how Luke had and yet she still couldn’t win. Another evening out on the lake with Kim, another evening where she wished she didn’t have to tie the boat to the dock. 

Hands nudged hers out the way and once again Luke had come to her rescue, crouched next to her and tying the rope to the cleat, like he had at the beginning of summer. They stood up straight, smiley, waiting for someone to say something with the crickets chirping and Luke’s brothers’ voices in the background.

“Thanks…again. I should get it someday.” She scratched her neck.

His mouth faltered, opening and closing to speak but he couldn’t choke the words out. He wanted to ask her, scream from the rooftops but something in his mind stopped him. What if she said no? How awkward that would be, they’d have to spend the last weeks of summer pretending as if nothing was going on, even if it was more than obvious that feelings were mutual. But what if she rejected him again? His hands slipped into his pockets, and he rocked on his heels.

“So, uh, since we're cool, um, was wondering for a while now if, um, and you don't have to but, uh, if you wanted to,” he started, sweat forming on his temple as his body ran hot. He’d watched Jack ask girls out, he made it look way too easy than it was, why couldn’t he just spit it out, he wanted it, that moment was what he’d been waiting for his whole life, she was right there. Chest tight, stomach doing flips, the adrenaline surging through him making his cheeks flush pink.

Her heart throbbed, cheeks ached but in a nice way, in a joyful way. This time, she would not miss her chance, it would be her and him until the end and she hoped, she begged the stars that he was going to ask her on a date. The whole summer with him, kindling spirits and rebuilding what had crumbled, two flames burning together and feeling as if she were the only girl in the world to him.

What was the worst that could happen? Rejection. Fear. Luke’s knees felt like jelly, his hands trembling and his mind coming to a blank. He couldn’t breathe, his heart wouldn’t pace itself and the words tumbled from his mouth in a panic, “um, well, Jack, Quinn and I were gonna check out this beach tomorrow and I was wondering if you wanted to come?”

He wasn’t lying, they were, but it wasn’t what he wanted to say. Y/n kept her smile even though it felt as if all her organs had been sucked from inside her to leave her a void. All that hope just for it to dissipate into thin air. All the little moments they shared, holding hands, exchanging secrets and forgiving, forgetting and going nowhere. It wasn’t until then it occurred to her that some people just weren’t meant to be more than friends. Just weren’t meant to take that leap into romance. Some people just were not ready. 

“Yeah, sure. Text me the details.” 

The closer they were just felt like they’d drifted further apart. They’d come so close until one of them just couldn’t do it, pushed the other away and not out of dislike either, because it was hard to not love each other but when you’d been friends for so long, everything - friends, family - felt at jeopardy. Right person, wrong time? It didn’t matter. Y/n and Luke would spend the rest of their summer as close friends. Nobody could hate Luke more than he hated himself, that bubbling in his stomach, boiling blood at only the boy who would stare back at him in the mirror. Nobody cried more than y/n, that pang in her heart every time they’d hang out, bottomless hollowness in her stomach when she soaked her pillows in the comfort of her bedroom. So close yet so far, like the stars that sparkled in their eyes when they looked at each other like they’d hung them out for each other. Once again, they’d signed that contract to be friends and if they were just that little bit braver, then maybe they’d stop letting the flowers of a bittersweet tragedy grow in their lungs, choke and suffocate them until one couldn’t do it anymore and concluded their decision. It was time to move on, stop waiting and set themselves free from the one who couldn’t decide.

Starting at the University of Michigan was like a breath of fresh air. New people, new environment, new life. Although she missed waking up on a lake, she and her roommate, beautiful and blonde, Bella (if she was going to make friends she may as well start with her roommate, right?), clicked well and decorated their dorm cosy with little lights hanging along the walls and bed frames, a rug to give the place personality and photos on the walls of family, friends and interests. Gave the cold place a bit of warm character. They giggled as they listened to the room across the hall already break out into an argument who-slept-where, they sympathised for the girl who struggled to say goodbye to her family and watched the two boys move in down the hall, y/n’s jaw dropping upon recognising the familiar head of curls. 

Luke and Dylan were long-time friends, they’d met back in the USA Hockey Development Camp when they were around fifteen and felt the pressure of new beginnings lift off their shoulders when they’d found out they were roommates. It was the best thing ever for them, setting up their room as their den, a blue rug, two plush folding chairs with the essentials: speaker, mini fridge, fan and a TV perched on top of one of the desk’s shelves. They’d spent most of their time rearranging their room to create maximum space, bickering like a married couple about the little details like no shoes on the rug and which way the desks should face. He and y/n hadn’t texted until later that night, Luke thrilled over her being just down the hall but y/n indifferent to it. Once upon a time, she would have been bouncing off the walls but now, it didn’t matter that much at all. 

In the first few weeks of university, you start making friends, join clubs and attend everything you can and go out when you want to with no one telling you when to be home. Y/n met a group of girls when she and Bella attended a social, Luke made friends through hockey. Both ended up back together when the two groups mixed by coincidence one night at some party they’d found and it was Dylan who brought it up. 

Y/n and her friends had been standing to the side in the living room of the dimly lit house, red solo cups held to chests and shuffling further away from the speaker at the other end of the room. Dylan weaved through the crowd, Luke, the three other guys, Mark, Ethan and Mackie not far behind him. She had been tipsy and grabbed Luke’s arm, Dylan immediately stopping to group with the girls. 

“Hey, Lu! Haven’t seen you in a while.” She yelled over the music, Luke standing close to her while Ethan, Mackie and Mark joined the little bundle. 

“Hey, y/n/n! Good to see you here.” He replied, dipping down closer to her ear.

Dylan’s eyes widened with his grin, pointing his drink between the two, “Oh shit! You know each other?”

“Yeah, we grew up together.” She smiled. Something inside Luke almost died that night. Something inside Luke also lit ablaze. 

“You’re y/n?! Hughesy talks about you all the time!” Dylan nudged Luke and Luke rolled his eyes, he would always have someone in his life who’d share his secrets, obviously. 

Y/n hadn’t added to the conversation after that and the group fell into a casual chatter, getting to know each other, that sort of thing. Luke felt the world bite him in the ass, that wedge he’d shoved between them now forced back and he felt like he was at square one all over again. 

That same night, on their way back to the dorms, Luke had made the clearest statement yet without opening his mouth. Ethan had been talking with her most of the party and since Luke knew her best, wanted advice. But when Ethan asked him about her number and favourite flowers, the youngest Hughes’ eyes could not have shot a dirtier look. Of course, the boys laughed, partially due to the alcohol and partially due to how real Luke seemed. Ethan flinched back, half-laughing out of nerves more than anything but that was the moment the boys realised something was going on. And they would not let Luke live it down.

Luke couldn’t bear his reflection sometimes. He had to face a coward and under the surgical white light of his and Dylan’s bathroom, where every feature and crevice of everything he hated just stuck out to laugh at him. Not physically, but all the memories of days he'd spent hyping himself up, ready to ask her out flashed in front of his eyes and he couldn’t stop the images of seeing his younger self utterly disappointed in him. He gripped the sink tight, knuckles turning white as he hung his head in shame, his eyes burning hot as they glassed over, a knot in his chest between angry and distraught igniting his tear ducts. He and y/n were part of two different groups with two different schedules, hockey was demanding, she would be with her crowd and when he thought he could finally have her without prying eyes, she was slipping further from his reach. But he wouldn’t lose her a second time. He wasn’t ready to surrender almost eight years of pining, he’d try just one last time.

*

It was exciting, it was new, it was refreshing. Weeks of classes, weeks of making new friends and weeks of finally gaining and learning independence. Things were going well for once and she even had her first date as a college student. Tony was a guy she met at a party, he didn’t resemble Luke at all and had approached her with smooth talking but lacked the character Luke held. She wasn’t sure about that, a cardboard personality but that was why she had agreed to go on a date with him, to learn. 

She’d knocked on Luke’s dorm on her way through, pushing him into his room abruptly and fixing her hair, Bella was out, and she was in dire need of a second opinion, and despite how the universe played out, Luke was still her most trusted and oldest friend. His eyes widened slightly, once again she’d quite literally taken his breath away with how gorgeous she looked all dolled up. 

“Do I look okay?” she asked, panic in her voice.

“Uh, yeah.” He fumbled out, like he’d forgotten how to speak entirely.

“That’s all? Oh God, I look bad, don’t I?” 

“What? No, you look good, I’m just confused. You going out?” he felt his cheeks warm at his sudden confession, why was it easier to admit that now and not back then?

“I’m going on a date, Lu. I’m freaking out, what if he doesn’t like me? What if I say the wrong thing or say something unfunny?-” 

Luke placed his hands on her shoulders, eyes meeting hers and her voice faded out. For a split second she questioned if going on the date was the right choice, but she caught herself, not letting the comfort of his thumbs rubbing her shoulders distract her. “-There isn’t a reason why he wouldn’t like you, chill. You will be fine, and you are funny, if he doesn’t find you funny then he’s boring as fuck. Who is this guy anyway? Where’s he taking you?”

“Thanks,” she relaxed with a smile, he always could make her feel better. “And are we really doing this again? His name’s Tony and I am meeting him at a bar near campus.” 

“Okay, you want me to walk you? Which bar-” but before Luke could get any further, she’d looked at the time and rushed out. He watched her power-walk down the hall before shutting his door roughly, hissing swears through his teeth. Perfect, just perfect, Luke’s love life was just going so perfect. Whoever this ‘Tony’ was, he despised him with every fibre in his being.

Dylan opened the bathroom door a crack, peeping out as if he hadn’t been eavesdropping the whole time. He didn’t grin like usual, his raised an eyebrow as Luke ran his hands down his face and threw himself onto one of the comfy chairs like a ragdoll. 

“You wanna talk about it? Fill me in here?” he asked, stepping into the room.

As Luke opened his mouth, someone knocked three times on the door. Dylan answered, revealing Mark, Mackie and Ethan kitted out for the gym. Ushering them in, they stood in front of Luke, like a council waiting for him. 

“Hughesy's pissed,” Dylan told the guys, “Luke, we’re here dude, let it out, brother. What’s the deal with you and y/n. You gave Eddy the evils and now you’re slamming doors and swearing your ass off when she goes on a date.���

Luke paused, thought. It wasn’t high school anymore; they were all adults. They weren’t going to tell everyone, they weren’t going to throw it back at him, tease him. He wasn’t sure if he wanted to admit it out loud, he already felt like a loser as it was. They were his friends, his brothers. 

“I like y/n, and I have since we were kids. And I’m pissed off because I’m not the guy she’s going on a date with. Okay?” Luke groaned, the guys breaking into menacing grins and nudging each other’s arms.

“Dude, you could have just said something. Come on, Hughesy, we got you.” Mark laughed, grabbing Luke by the arm and pulling him from the chair. They say the friends you make in university are some of the best friends you’ll ever have, and that was the day Luke realised that. If anyone wanted him to be happy, it was them. He wasn’t on his own anymore, he wouldn’t be in an empty house all the time, he wouldn’t have to arrive home and hear the absence of his family. His family were with him all the time now.

*

Seven o’clock. Seven-thirty. Eight o’clock and Tony wasn’t coming. Cars passed, customers entered and exited, the neon lights flickered on and hummed in the dark. The world just passed by. Y/n had never felt more humbled in her life, more embarrassed. To think that he had an interest in her was too ambitious. How could someone do that? Just leave someone outside the bar for an hour with no text or apology. She sat on the curb with her knees to her chest, mascara running down her cheeks waiting for the miracle that he showed his face, and it was an innocent delay. Maybe he got caught up? Maybe he was late from somewhere? Why was she waiting, making excuses for him? But she still waited until the evening faded into the night. She waited on that curb, drained of all feeling, limbs heavy and even her stomach felt void of anything, she didn’t feel like walking back to her dorm, it may as well have been a walk of shame while everyone laughed at how hopeful she had been. No matter what she did, who it was, she was always waiting.

The Yost rink took hockey seriously, team rooms for everything. Gym, common, kitchen, locker room, showers, everything for aspiring professional NHL stars. The guys had started their fixed routine advised by the coaches, an intense gym routine, yes, but anything for hockey. Luke had taken a break from weights, wiping his face with his towel and taking a breather when he’d overheard the conversation, stopped dead in his tracks as the words almost echoed around the room. He didn’t want to have to look at the guy, but did he really have to play on the same team as him too? The worst part was it wasn’t just Luke hearing the conversation, Dylan and Mackie had paused their music to listen in, eyes switching between each other and at Luke, whose jaw clenched tight, and gaze couldn’t have been sharper. 

“Aren’t you supposed to be on that date?” Tony’s friend asked, leaning against the treadmill Tony jogged on.

“Huh? With who?” 

“Y’know, the chick from the party? The one who wore that USA Hockey sweatshirt on move-in day? Wonder whose dick she sucked for that.” His friend continued, “Man, she was cute.”

Luke’s blood boiled and his breathing deepened. He bit his tongue; it took everything in him to not bite into both their throats. She didn’t have to suck his dick to get the sweatshirt, he gave it to her before that, because he cared.

“Oh yeah, forgot about that. She’s probably still waiting for me. Leave now and you might catch her.”

Luke huffed, turning on his heel and storming out the gym, scrambling in his pocket for his phone. Tony and his friend snapped their heads to his sudden exit, catching the eyes of Dylan and Mackie who shook their heads in disappointment before turning back to what they were doing. Tony had no idea he had an enemy until then. 

He burst out the gym doors into the hallway, pacing up and down with his fingers tangled in his hair, phone pressed to his ear but every attempt going to voicemail. He gave up texting, he could send a hundred texts, and she wouldn’t see them anyway, her phone was always on silent but with enough hope, she may see him call. 

Goosebumps rose along y/n’s arms, the autumn breeze catching up to her and perhaps she should have worn a jacket after all. She thought about getting up and heading back to her dorm, but the energy to do so had been sucked from her, limbs feeling heavy, and heart shattered. The longer she’d sat there, the more she realised she wasn’t upset about Tony, it was being stood up. He really did not want to see her that badly after all. Watching the same customers walk out the bar that she watched walk in, she pulled her phone out, lockscreen filled with Luke’s contact and five missed calls. What was so important that he had to call now? Why was she suddenly so popular with him again? Just as she scoffed and went to slide her phone into her back pocket, his name flashed again, for the sixth call. Her thumb hovered over the accept button, biting her lip with nerves crawling in her stomach.

“Why weren’t you picking up? Where are you?” His voice was panicked, and she could hear how fast his breathing was through the speaker. 

“Sorry, was too busy sucking off Ohio State’s hockey team.” Her voice clipped, running her nail over her jeans, tears welling in her eyes and reactivating her mascara, if there was any still left on her lashes.

“Haha, so funny.” He laughed sarcastically, “Where are you?” 

“Why do you care suddenly? You’ll probably just laugh in my face anyway.”

“Fucking God, y/n/n. Where are you?”

She flinched slightly at his raised voice, jolting her phone from her ear before replying with a sulky pout, “Diablo’s, but I’ll probably come back soon.”

He hung up, stuffing his phone back into his pocket and bolting out Yost without thinking about anything else. The only thought was getting y/n back safely before the worst happened. What was she thinking? She should've started walking the second Tony failed to arrive, before it was dark. His jogging gradually shifted into a run, Diablo’s wasn’t more than fifteen minutes away from campus, and he was aware that he looked a little crazy running with the bare minimum of usual running gear but that wasn’t the issue. He would have never stood her up like that, he should have walked her to the bar in the first place and waited until he arrived. He should’ve, he should’ve but he didn’t. He’d been harbouring his feelings for so long, yet he couldn’t even provide something as minimal as a walk, but he wouldn’t let her sit outside a bar because of some shitty guy. 

Y/n stretched her legs in front of her, eyes locked on her shoes as her ears tuned the world out, letting it pass by slowly before she thought about getting up. She knew exactly what she was doing. Fallen into yet another trap set her heart, she was waiting for Luke. Again. If it weren’t for the familiar maize and navy trainers appearing in front of her, she would’ve punished herself for even considering that Luke may have cared about her in the slightest. Slowly, she tilted her chin up: the gym shorts, the compression shirt, the flushed cheeks and unruly curls from the wind. What was once a heavy anvil on her shoulders ascended, taking the blues out from her body and replacing them with that spark. That electric spark that made her limbs all tingly with life and energy. Luke’s eyes softened at her, although his fears had been wiped, she was okay, but Tony made her cry. That time and effort she’d put in had ran down her cheeks and if he wasn’t so fuelled with captivation, he would’ve lost his temper. But she was his serenity, always had been.

“You came.” She squeaked, doe eyes peering up at him lovingly.

“Of course I did.” Luke panted, taking her by the hands and pulling her to her feet. He didn’t let go for a while, neither did she. His hands were warm, and she remembered how safe they always made her feel, how he’d always have his arm draped over the back of her seat during the summer, how she felt like the only girl in the world when their eyes met. “Come on, I’ll walk you back.” 

It wasn’t a long walk back, but neither was it romantic. Luke had his hands in his pockets and y/n’s in hers but the distance between them couldn’t have been closer, like two magnets once again, hauling back into each other. When they had taken the fifteen-minute walk back to their dorm block, he walked with her all the way until they stood outside her door and only they could somehow make it awkward. 

They gave each other a small nod, as if to give a silent goodbye until y/n span on her heel, her arms winding around his torso against her better judgement. He blinked twice and froze, he couldn’t remember the last time she’d hugged him so tight, she fit like a glove, and he’d forgotten how much he felt like he belonged somewhere, with someone when in her arms. He melted into her, arms wrapping around her shoulders and resting his lips to the top of her hair. The violent urge to kiss her, only a peck but he knew that if he kissed her once, it’d lead to more. It always did. 

Pulling away, she tilted her head up at him, hands holding the sides of his shirt while his glid to the tops of her shoulders. The silence thick, eyes searching for something, rolling tapes of lost memories they’d tried to forget: the treehouse, the boat, every second they even considered that they had a chance. Luke’s hands cupped her jaw, thumbs caressing over her cheekbones as he licked his lips. Her grip tightened, mouth parting and leaning onto her tiptoes while he dipped down, breaths tying together, noses bumping. He said he wouldn’t do it, she said she didn’t want to do it but in the end all they ever ended up doing was intertwining back into each other. Their lips ghosted, eyelashes fluttering against their cheeks until lips grazed in the slightest. 

The reality of the situation crashed down upon her heavily, like getting caught in a hailstorm. She was a strong soldier, she could resist. Everything would circle back like it always did. They would kiss, things would be fine and then he’d disappear. If it can happen once, it can happen again, and again and again until one of them stopped the chase. Luke would just hurt her again; she would just look for guys to fill the hole in her heart he made when he would leave, and the self-destruction had to stop at some point. Her eyes snapped open, and she nudged him back lightly, “No. I-I can’t do this, Lu.” 

Luke’s world darkened, a hollow sorrow washing through him as he let her push him away. Pathetically, he looked at her, a pleading guilt jabbing him in the stomach as his hands yearned to reach out for her. They hung by his sides instead and she inhaled deeply, shakily.

“I don't get it. One minute I’m everything to you and the next it’s like I don’t exist…you keep coming back at random times like nothing’s happened, at times when I think that you don’t want me anymore…it’s just so- so confusing! I feel like I’m always waiting on you to make up your mind, Luke.” She pinched the bridge of her nose, the defeat rising inside her. “You like me and then you don’t and I can’t keep playing cat and mouse all the time. Thank you for picking me up and looking out for me, but until you’ve figured out what you want, please leave me be.” 

 Like that, she was gone. Turned away and retreated to her dorm, leaving him standing like a lost puppy in the hallway. He didn’t want to cry, not there at least but how he’d managed to make things worse, he couldn’t say. All he knew is that she was right, and that was the part that hit him the hardest. He knew his answer, he knew he did want her and was going to give them one last chance, but she didn’t know that. From her perspective, he was just getting close to running away, hoping she’d chase him back but now she wasn’t. The next time they’d meet would either be the last of everything they built, or the start of something new.

When y/n stepped into her dorm looking like she’d been through several horrendous break-ups and four bushes backwards, Bella jolted up from her bed, scrambling out her covers. Y/n told her everything. Everything from her mess with Luke to Tony ditching her. The good, the bad and the ugly about the whole story and while Bella was pissed about the latter, even she could see Luke in a battle of his own. 

“Have you ever considered that Luke’s…y’know…scared?” Bella asked, leaning against the bathroom door frame, eyes meeting y/n’s in the mirror as she scrubbed the mascara from her face. 

As if she couldn’t have made the ordeal any messier than it was, she feared she just had out of her own borderline selfishness. She hadn’t considered his side of the story. Ever.

*

One intensely lit house with LED light strips covering the walls, pulsing and flashing changing colours in beat with the music blaring through the speakers, two girls weaved their way through a sea of bodies into the kitchen, five boys hovering in the living room, making conversation with sophomores in the frat. 

Their first frat party as freshmen and the nerves were skyrocketing. The only reason y/n and Bella went was because Dylan had invited y/n, and she begged Bella to tag along since it would be a fun experience and so she didn’t have to go alone. So far, so good. They’d lost count of how many drinks they’d poured, shots taken, people spoken to, they were just girls. 

The boys were on a mission. Well, Luke was, the boys were just orchestrating events and giving Luke multiple pep-talks about it being ‘now or never’. They were right, of course. Luke had just over a week of no contact, a week for staring at his reflection in the mirror, lying in bed at night staring at the ceiling, thinking, planning, anticipating and now it would all stop. 

Ethan lined up his shot, ping pong ball loosely held between his fingers, and he released, biting his lip as the ball bounced into the opposing team’s cup. The boys cheered, throwing each other into fist bumps and bro-hugs, a few girls applauding around them. Y/n and Bella stood within that surrounding crowd, Mark wiggling them to the front as if they were VIPs, part of their group. When Luke’s turn came around, she noticed the fan club he’d gained, pretty girls giggling and whispering between each other, cheering when Luke’s shot landed in the cup. She ran her tongue over her top teeth, a lethal glare on the girls as they tried to loop their arms around Luke’s, but her muscles relaxed seeing Dylan and Mackie stand beside him, ushering the girls back. 

Bella nudged her, leaning over to murmur in her ear, “Something tells me he’s made up his mind.”

Y/n opened her mouth, but Mark stumbled over his feet in front of them, asking if they fancied another drink (of course they did) and taking both their wrists gently with a goofy grin on his face, leading them through the people, brushing past a couple guys in the doorway whose eyes followed them towards the back corner of the kitchen, where the rest of the guys had managed to claim. Mark was sweet, baby faced and a ball of sunshine with contagious energy, ensuring they were in the circle securely. He ushered y/n between himself and Luke, Bella on the other side with Dylan and Mackie but no matter how tucked away she was in the boys, the looming gaze of someone else clawed at her. 

Ten minutes passed, the group still in a deep conversation amongst themselves and she peered back over her shoulder again, the - presumably older guy, maybe a senior - still watching her every move like a hawk, leaning into his friend and pointing at her with smirks. There’s nothing more terrifying in a woman’s life than knowing you’re being watched because being watched means there’s a further plan. If she had known she was being watched at the carnival, she could have moved somewhere else but now, she did know she was being watched and her legs paralysed, staying where she was would keep her safe. But she wanted to run, run home, run to her bed, run to her dorm where she couldn’t be found, and security cameras lined the halls. The only security blanket keeping her heart from palpitating was Mark and Luke beside her, yet the guy didn’t seem bothered by that at all.

There were too many people to run, the kitchen too crowded to slip away without getting caught by him but any longer being stared down by the guy and tears may have fallen, making the whole situation worse. Until she stepped to the side, bumping into a familiar arm. An arm that snaked around her torso and hand settled on her hip, tucking her into his side while he casually continued his conversation with Dylan. He held her close so naturally as if embedded into his autopilot, an instinct. Excitement bubbled in her stomach, exploding in her chest when Luke kissed her hair, watching the guy from across the room disappear from his peripheral vision. The guy may have been watching y/n, but Luke had been watching the guy the entire time, flashbacks from the carnival haunting him. Even if she were to shove him away, the least he could do was keep her safe from the start this time. Y/n didn’t shove him away, she leant into him like putty melding to his form, if she was with him, all the nerves disintegrated. 

“No, that’s what I’m saying!” Ethan’s voice raised above, turning from Mark as he turned to the rest of the group, “Okay, is anyone else down for shots? I have this spinner game.” 

In a group agreement, Ethan pulled his phone out, loading up said spinner game and showing his screen. The spinner had different shots on a wheel, from tequila to whiskey to rum to vodka to body shots, the aim to spin and take whatever the arrow landed on. Ethan spun first, resulting in his fate being sealed by whatever whiskey they found lying around the counters. The shot burned unpleasantly down his throat, but anything for a good time. Mackie spun next, taking a dance with tequila and if he had learnt something that night, it was that him and tequila were not fated to be lovers. Both Dylan and Bella took their vodka shots with their arms intertwined with each other. Luke took his turn, unbothered by what his result was until the arrow landed on a body shot. He shook his head smiling, the guys allowing him to choose his partner. 

Y/n tugged on his t-shirt, gesturing her head towards the island counter behind Mark and Ethan. The group grinned, a concoction of ‘oooh’ and ‘yeah’ filling the corner as she hoisted herself onto the marble, Luke standing between her legs and receiving his tequila shot from Dylan. She tugged the strap of her tank top over her shoulder slightly, giving Luke enough room to sprinkle the line of salt on the crook of her neck while Mark returned with a slice of lime. Luke’s eyes met hers, giving her a look of reassurance, a kind look asking her if she was all right. She licked her lips, that familiar coquettish look blazing back at him just like in the treehouse last summer. Tequila burned down his throat, tongue licking the salt from her neck, scenarios of slow and wet kisses across the skin, his teeth sinking into her tearing through her imagination, y/n struggling to keep quiet but when his mouth had found her sweet spot like that, she wanted nothing more than for him to devour her then and there. 

He couldn’t have cared less about the salt, his face belonged buried in her neck and if he could rewind the clock just to repeat his actions then he would have. His hands steadied by her sides, heat flushing to his neck and the lime he was supposed to take next may as well have never existed. The opportunity was there, he could finally show her his decision, how he felt and what he wanted. The audience around them didn’t matter, to him, it was just him and y/n in some random frat’s kitchen, a simple body shot doing God’s work but Ethan rigging the game earning the MVP award for the night. He emerged from her neck, parting his lips slightly and falling weak to her and he was done with keeping her waiting. 

Pulling the lime from her lips, he tossed it aside, both hands cupping her jaw, the world stopping entirely when their lips met hastily. He kissed her like every time before, heavy and with meaning, like it screamed a thousand different tequila flavoured ways to convey his feelings. Her hands delicately placed themselves over his, keeping him close, keeping him in and pressed into her, shockwaves over her body and she melted into him with parting lips. Their friends cheered and hooted, clinking their shot glasses together but it fell deaf upon Luke and y/n, their tongues tangled in a bruising, breathless kiss until they had to pull away for air. His lips pulled into a grin, thumbs soothing over her cheeks as her eyes slowly widened with a smile spreading across her face. 

Luke dipped closer to her ear, hands falling to her hips and murmured, “It’s always been you.” 

“Let’s go somewhere quieter-” she turned her head towards him, lips close to his ear, but Dylan slapped Luke’s back and yelled something about their room being off limits for the night as he passed, Bella dragging him through the kitchen. 

Luke’s eyebrows raised upon initially entering y/n’s room, a homely feeling embracing him when she switched the fairy lights on, and they ditched their shoes next to the door. Y/n waved him over to her bed, her back against the headboard and he followed, squeezing next to her, arm wrapping around her shoulders and tucking her into his chest. They knew they owed each other a talk, their sides of the story, the rise and the fall. Luke needed to explain, and she needed to confess, the longer they pretended like it wasn’t eating them alive the thicker that wedge between them became.

“I didn’t like Cameron at all, I only went out with him to make you jealous. I thought you’d get protective…” she said, Luke humming in acknowledgement, “I just wanted that little confirmation that I mattered.”

“Yeah, it worked. But you always mattered, s’why I’ve been trying all this time to ask you out.” He mumbled, his voice seductively low, rumbling through his chest.

“Then what were you gonna say at the end of summer, because I know it wasn’t supposed to be about the beach.” 

Luke inhaled deeply, his hand snaking to her waist and settling on her hip, “I was gonna ask you on a date to the arcade we loved as kids…but then I freaked out and got scared again…” 

“Why were you scared, Lu? What was there to be scared of?” She couldn’t get the pieces to click, and Luke grew frustrated, admitting things was not an easy job. 

“Y/n, I’ve loved you my entire life, everything was to be scared of. I thought you didn’t like kissing me, then you went on a date with what's-his-face, then Cameron and somewhere between there I don’t know, I thought it was over for me, that we were just friends. I thought I’d lost you after all those years of trying.”  He rambled, the pent-up words falling from his mouth, but he didn’t sound annoyed, not once. If anything, the weight that latched itself onto Luke’s shoulders lifted the more he rambled. 

She had been right; she hadn’t thought about his perspective on everything. He’d done nothing but put her first, hold her hand, kiss her, accompany her, rescue her, be the boyfriend she never had, and she threw him to the side for some guy as if he never mattered. Then wondered why he was so far away. Perhaps she would’ve reacted the same, after all, seeing someone you love with another isn’t a burden easy to bear. Guilt choked her hard, he knew all along what he wanted, and she’d just made it difficult to confess. Really shitty but she was part of the problem Luke battled.

“You never lost me, Lu,” with glossy eyes and a delicate touch to his jaw, she turned his head to face her, “we’ve been close for as long as I can remember.”

“That’s why I was scared. I can’t just be friends with you and last summer we weren’t just friends, y/n. Last summer meant everything to me and I really hoped you’d be my girl and well, I fucked that up.” His eyes flickered to her lips, he should have felt bad as tears welled in her eyes, but he finally, with the liquid courage from earlier, could get the words out how he wanted. 

Her lip quivered, hand cupping the nape of his neck and her thumb leaving feathery touches over his jaw, a tear breaking through and slipping down her cheek, “Me too. Is there a chance…I can still be your girlfriend?”

“You think I kissed you for shits and giggles?” He leaned in, half on his own and half with the prompt of her pulling him closer, pressing their lips together tentatively, a warmth of familiarity blooming through them like flowers in their lungs. But those flowers weren’t choking them anymore, they weaved between their ribcages and bones like a garden of bliss and beauty, pollinating their hearts with desire. 

He licked across her bottom lip, tongue finding hers in a languid rhythm while his free hand wrapped around her thigh, pulling her over to straddle his lap. Y/n moaned into the kiss, relaxing under his hands gliding over every inch of her waist and back, pressing her body into his with lips disconnecting with strings of saliva between them. He smothered her neck in electrifying butterfly kisses, from her ear down to the crook of her neck to that sweet spot he’d found earlier, nipping at the skin until her fingers laced in his curls, tugging and drawing a deep, raw groan from his chest. 

Luke’s hands, hot and calloused, snuck under her top, slowly following the natural curve of her spine and waist, the fabric rising the further he explored, thumbs teasing her underside of her breasts along the lace of her bra. Lace. The concept of y/n wearing lace underwear sent shivers down his spine, heat to his dick and his hips bucked up as if a reflex, but it wasn’t the first time he’d imagined it. A high-pitched whimper escaped her lips, little sparks flushing over her skin the further her top seemed to hike up her body until Luke bunched the fabric at her chest, pulling it over her head and tossing it to the end of her bed, his warm lips attacking her collarbones with little nips disguised by kisses before sucking pink blossoms along her skin to her tits, his large hands cupping and kneading. 

“No fair,” her fingers tugged at the back of his t-shirt, clumsily pulling it up his back. He let out a low chuckle into her skin before sitting straight, discarding the clothing over his head and setting his hands on her waist. She’d seen him hundreds of times before, but this was different, this was private. “So fucking pretty, Lu. Just wanna…”

“Just wanna what?” he purred, leaning back into the headboard and adjusting his hips up against her, his jeans failing to hide his solid cock bumping her crotch. “If you’re gonna talk dirty to me, you gotta use your words, pretty girl. I don’t know what you want me to do.” 

She gasped, pussy fluttering at the friction and her dreamy gaze brought his cocky smirk back to his lips. Luke’s hands gripped her hips tighter, guiding them to roll over his dick once more, twice more, until her nails dug into his shoulders for stability, inner core burning like fire with every brush against her clit, panties sticking to her folds in ways that disgraced her dignity. It felt so good, she felt good, just dry humping alone had her jaw slacking and little pants of air slipping through her lips all while Luke tilted his head back, grinning ear to ear with his eyes closed, cock throbbing painfully. He wouldn’t have cared if he came right then and there, in his boxers that he would sure have to wear in the morning. 

She took his hands off her hips, gliding them up her body until they reached her back, his fingers meeting the clasp of her bra as she slid the straps over her shoulders, a sultry yet so encouraging look smeared across her face. He struggled slightly with the clasp, but her hands cupping his face rid of the embarrassment before it had even hit, the underwear falling from her body and discarded to the floor. Luke licked his lips, her hands finding their way to his and placing them over her tits, an invitation to explore how he pleased. His ears tinted pink again, eyes unable to leave the view of his hands timidly groping her chest and every thought he’d been having up until that moment blanked. Soft, so soft and squishy, God he could do that forever, sleep on them until the end of time. He brushed his thumbs over her nipples, her back arching into him and y/n let out an airy whimper, tilting her head back. 

“So fuckin’ pretty, y/n,” he hummed, one hand lying flat on her back as he dipped down, pressing wet kisses to her tit, taking the peak between his lips and swirling his tongue leisurely around her nipple. His other hand wrapped around her other breast, groping and squishing it, pinching the nipple between his fingers until her airy whimpers increased into lewd cries of his name, a whirling warmth in her throbbing cunt. He released her - now wet - tit, breathing heavily with disbelief. He’d just sucked his childhood crush, long-time friend’s tit, in her room and she was really half naked on his lap, definitely feeling how hard he was against her pussy, and he loved every second of this animalistic yearning coursing through him.

Y/n’s hands trailed down his chest, over every dip and definition of his muscles until they fumbled with his belt, mind becoming hazy at the memory of the way she looked at him the last time she’d taken him in her mouth, the pleasant challenge of getting his tip to hit the back of her throat, his whimpering and begging replaying in her ears. Sliding backwards down his legs, she barely got her mouth anywhere near his cock before his fingers wrapped around her neck, pressing firmly on the sides and pulling her back up to his eye level, her heart pulsing in her ears with the condescending look on his face. He slotted his mouth on hers to find her tongue again, saliva pooling at the corner of their lips and they didn’t hate it. She shouldn’t have enjoyed the compression as much as she did, but his hands were so much bigger on her body, like he could crush her and her eyes threatened to roll to the back of her head, a strained moan gasping out. 

“Please,” she whined between kisses, “taste so good, so big, need you.”

“Nuh-uh, it’s my turn.” He looked down at her before releasing her throat, winding an arm around her and flipping her onto her back underneath him. He painted her body with gentle kisses, from the valley of her breasts, down her stomach to the top of her shorts, smoothly unbuttoning them and pulling the zip down with his teeth, “Been thinkin’ about how you taste. Can I?”

He peered up at her through his eyelashes, watching y/n prop herself onto her elbows and lick her lips. She paused, the silence comfortable as he waited for her consent, “Yeah, please…this is just…never done this before.” 

Luke kissed her stomach before sitting onto his knees, giving her a warm, reassuring smile before hooking his fingers around the waist of her shorts, “Neither. We’ll figure it out, okay?” 

She nodded, smiling, lifting her hips and letting him slide the clothing down her legs and ditching them somewhere on the floor. He straddled back over her, running his hands over her bare legs before dipping down to place a hot kiss on her clothed clit, sparks skimming over his body by how sopping her panties were. 

She whimpered quietly, watching him begin to lower himself before she placed her foot onto his shoulder, pushing him back onto his knees, head lulling into her shoulder with a desperate tint in her eyes, “Jeans, off.”

The corner of his lips tugged upwards as he slid off the bed, kicking his jeans and socks off and crawling back over her, settling between her legs again. His fingers re-hooked around her waistband, gliding her panties down her legs leaving tingles like feathers along the skin in their wake before she removed her legs from them one by one. He threw of leg over his shoulders, laying on his stomach and left slow kisses along her inner thigh, nipping at the skin to pull a squeal from her and sucking over the spot until a purple blotch marked. One hand lay splayed over her lower stomach, his other holding her other leg slightly apart, enough to catch a view of her glistening folds and give him room to spread them open with his thumb. 

“Fuck, gonna need you to use your words here, pretty girl.” His voice was gruff, breath hitting her sensitivity, and she lulled her head back, readjusting herself on her elbows because there was no way she would miss watching him devour her. His thumb circled her clit dubiously, eyes peeking up at her and even though the sensation didn’t hit just right yet, having any sort of attention to a virgin clit still sent pleasure to her head.

“Little firmer, little faster-oh!” she explained, Luke following her instructions as she spoke until the sensation hit her like a brick, jolting through her, jaw falling slack, “Like that, Lu, shit.”

He grinned, running his other thumb through her folds, spreading the slick before taking his thumb into his mouth, eyes locked into hers, licking and relishing in the way she tasted and humming into the heaven that consumed him. Sinking lower into her mattress, he drew his hand away from her clit, hand pressing down on her stomach and other wrapping her thigh around his shoulder, tongue flicking at her bundle of nerves, small kisses, nipping, sucking until she raked her fingers through his curls, pushing him into her cunt. He ran his tongue through her folds, lapping at the pussy juices without a care about how loud he was being, nose bumping into her clit, her jaw falling agape and helpless mewls slipped through her lips as she bucked her hips up pathetically. He could have eaten her out all day, his new favourite place to hide that graced him with the most beautiful, pornographic noises from his favourite person. He couldn’t help himself, there was too much ecstasy intoxicating him that he barely noticed himself rutting his cock into the mattress the hungrier he dipped into her.

He pulled back momentarily, lips vibrating against her cunt that had her wines drawn-out and fingers tugging at his curls in a way that tore guttural groans from him, “Such a pretty fuckin’ pussy, all fuckin’ mine.” 

He dove back in, hands pinning her to the bed and plunging his tongue into her, moaning against her folds so harsh they reverberated through her body, making every hair stand on end. He lifted his head up, middle finger tracing through her folds and sliding inside her easily, a wave of fire washing over her, and his ring finger entered alongside, Luke pumping them in precise and careful motions while watching the way her face contorted with pleasure. 

“That’s it, good girl,” he cooed, his name falling from her mouth like a song. He curled his fingers, realising he’d hit the right spot when her breath hitched and whimpered out, “so loud f’me, that’s it, taking my fingers so well.”

“There, right there, Luke! Don’t stop!” 

His fingers thrusted in and out of her with a rhythm, cherishing the warmth and completely obsessed how she stretched out for him, biting his lip and petting her g-spot as she squirmed, his hand on her stomach keeping her still. He drew his fingers out, taking them into his mouth, eyes almost fluttering closed at the taste until he dove straight back into her pussy, messily letting his tongue work its magic with his nose hitting her clit with each dip.

“Lu! Luke, please Luke,” she sobbed out desperately, free hand gripping the bedsheets. She couldn’t believe he’d never gone down on a woman before, he ate her like a starved man, so many pleasures triggering at once, her body and mind completely short-circuited, and she was left with filthy whines and incoherent sentences. “Gonna cum, let me cum, please-”

Her words dissipated into the air, eyes rolling back as the brutality of his tongue lapped and assaulted mercilessly, arousal coating his chin as he attempted to pull her impossibly closer. He’d never thought he’d be so pussydrunk on someone before, especially going in with only the knowledge his friends had given him after many late-night conversations in random car parks of fast-food restaurants. The coil in her stomach tightened, eyes squeezing shut and she was so close to that final release until cold air fanned her pussy. Eyes snapping open, she whipped her head forward to see Luke staring at her with wild eyes, arousal dripping from his chin and her fingers slipped from his hair as he sat on his knees, her legs falling and wrapping around his hips as he wiped his face with his hand, licking the excess from his fingers. 

“Why’d you stop? I was so close.” She whined, but trailed off the further he tugged his boxers off, cock springing free, and he hovered over her, dipping down to kiss her softly, trailing from her lips, along her cheek to the shell of her ear.

“Want you to cum on my cock,” he purred, latching his teeth onto her collarbone, sucking until he’d left his mark, teasing her cunt by running his tip through her folds until her arms wrapped around his back, nails digging into the flexed muscles.

“Fuck, need you inside me, Lu,” she said in a small voice, unable to take the teasing anymore with a throbbing pussy and desperate need to be filled up, “m’on the pill, please, fuck me.”

“Ssh, I got you,” he murmured, inching his cock in painfully slow but the last thing he wanted was to hurt her. Luke groaned into her shoulder, every vein, every nerve caressing her warm walls the further she swallowed his size. God, she felt so perfect, suited for him and for a moment he thought she’d struggle to take him until something about imagining the bulge in her stomach as she tried to take him made his cock twitch. Once he bottomed out, their lips met for a long kiss, her tongue darting into his mouth and muffling her moans as she adjusted to his size, core burning at how he stuffed her full and she craved more. 

Y/n’s nails massaged his scalp, tugging gently, “You can move,” she whispered.

He steadied his biceps either side of her head, rocking his hips back and forth languidly like she was made of glass until the little high-pitched whimpers sank into his skin, spurring him to increase his pace, feeling her tits bounce against his chest with every push in. Sweat formed on his forehead, curls beginning to stick as he huffed hot air into the crook of her neck.

“So tight, y/n, feel so fuckin’ good,” his lips laced her neck in sloppy kisses before sitting on his knees, hands on her hips in a vice grip as he drilled into her, gradually thrusting harder and faster the more his eyes locked on the bulge in her lower stomach. His splayed hand over it, a deep chuckle rumbling in his chest, “so fuckin’ tight n’ look at that.”

“Feels s’good!” she cried, “Oh- yes, Lu, yes.”

Her nails dug into the sheets, fisting them as Luke snapped his hips, euphoria erratically zapping him as he watched the way his cock bulged and dipped with his thrusting, her walls clenching around him. She wailed out an erotic moan, mind fogging and the only sense working in her system being the way she could feel his cock pulse inside her, dragging along her walls and stuffing her full like he was meant to. 

“You feel me, babe? Feel how fuckin’ well your pretty pussy takes me?” A carnal desire controlled him like a puppet, the deeper he slammed his dick into her, the louder the slapping of skins and he leaned back down over her, feeling her arms struggle to embrace his much larger body and nails clawing angry marks into his skin as if marking her territory. He could get used it, no one else could make him feel the way she did. No one could make him want to fuck her with every drop of love and affection he had in him other than y/n. He wasn’t driving into her because he was horny, he wanted to be closer, feel purpose and comfort with being vulnerable and exposed and it just happened to be the most pervertedly enthralling experience of his life. 

“L-Lu! M’gonna c..cum.” she panted, letting drawn-out, wanton moans bounce off her dorm room walls the deeper he plunged his cock into her, “So big- let me cum, please.”

“Me too, pretty, me too.” He planted a kiss to her forehead, ignoring the salty sweat coating his tastebuds, he couldn’t have cared less, it wasn’t like he wasn’t drenched in sticky sweat too. 

She began to fall limp, her grip on him loosening as her eyes rolled to the back of her head, the coil in her stomach unable to get any tighter and on its last legs. She didn’t want the high to end, the volume of the world starting to cut to white noise and vision blurry, Luke’s stuttering thrusts tearing an orgasm through her while he fucked her through his own, white, creamy release circling the base of his cock as his rutting slowed to a stop. He collapsed onto her chest, buring his face into her neck and panting falling in sync with hers. 

He pulled out, wiping the leaking cum from her thighs with his finger and taking in the last juices before nestling into her breasts. His eyes fell heavy when her fingers carded through his curls and with the little energy he had left, he kissed her cheek, “You did so well for me, such a good girl. Pretty fuckin’ noises just f’me.”

They lay in silence to muster up their energy, breathing patterns in sync, y/n tracing patterns over his back and Luke periodically leaving chaste kisses on her collarbone. The world couldn’t have been more perfect, even if their skins stuck together grossly, even if they had to sleep in cum-stained sheets for the night, he planned to help with cleaning those in the morning anyway. Y/n’s heart didn’t race with him anymore, it slowed with serenity of finally having a person, finally being able to breathe around him. There was truly no greater feeling than the tranquillity of devotion blooming through two lovers. 

Y/n tapped his back lightly, indicating that she needed to get up. He weakly crawled off, helping her by the hand and following her to her bathroom. They didn’t bother with privacy while she peed, they’d just had sex, what was there to hide now? What Luke did do, was wet a cloth y/n had pointed to him and do his best do wipe up any excess release off the mattress, highly aware that most if it would have dried by that point.

“Lu?” she called out quietly, poking her head from the bathroom. He turned his head, calmly, “You showering now or in the morning?” 

Something so simple, so domestic had his heart melting inside his chest, “I’ll go after you.”

She smiled, disappearing back into the bathroom. He picked up his clothes, folding them and placing them onto her desk chair. He folded her clothes next, hanging them on the back of her chair and pulling her pyjamas out from under her pillow, where she always put pyjamas, no matter where she was. Luke’s mind slowly functioned like normal again, the high of sex wearing down yet still giddy in his system. After years of pining, failing, chasing, crying, they finally fell into place. Was it worth it? Yeah, maybe. Was there an easier way? Absolutely, but he was younger then, scared and stupid. It didn’t matter anymore, he had his girl, and he loved her more than anything.

*

Y/n stirred, sleepy eyes opening to a weight on her chest, a grounding weight with long, unruly curls brushing against her lips ever so slightly, one palm cupped over her breast with his ear pressed to the other. Luke’s other arm managed to wind itself around her waist, trapped between the curve of her back and the mattress, one of her hands gently stroking through his hair and the other tracing the red scratch marks along his bare back. His breathing heavy but his face so peaceful and she smiled to herself. No, she didn’t think he’d run off before she’d woken up but she had entered university thinking it wouldn’t be him in her bed at all, but she was elated that it was. There wasn’t a better sight to see at eight in the morning. 

Luke’s eyes fluttered open, groaning deeply at his hair being played with and he nuzzled into her chest. He rasped, morning voice deep and husky, “Morning, beautiful.” 

“Good morning, pretty boy.” She smiled, pushing hair off his forehead. She wanted to wake up like that every day, tangled with Luke, him being the first person she saw, listened to. Even if he was much larger than she was, the pressure of him laying on her body was comforting, domestic even.

He shuffled around, removing his arm from around her waist, letting the blood flow back through it before propping himself onto his elbows. His eyes scanned her features, her sleepy eyes, tousled hair, the red bites on her collarbones and his lips pulled into a beatific and lazy grin.

“What are you smiling about?” she asked, his smile transferred to her infectiously and she cupped his cheek. 

“Thinkin’ about how much I love you, s’all.” 

Y/n’s chest warmed, fireworks exploding at her loverboy gazing at her with awe glazed over his eyes, the words falling onto her ears feeling right, bright and fresh like the first time the sun shines in the spring and all the new life begins. 

“I love you too,” she kissed his forehead, interrupted by his stomach rumbling, “breakfast?”

He threw back the duvet, scrambling off her and sighing at his clothes he folded on the chair, y/n shuffling around behind him before handing him his USA Hockey sweatshirt and a pair of shorts he’d left at her’s over the summer. He slipped his phone from his jeans pocket, how it had managed to stay tucked in there was beyond his knowledge and how it still had twenty-percent of battery was also a question for the deities above. 

Luke almost dropped his phone when two arms wrapped around his torso from behind, his cheeks burning from smiling and his stomach fluttering, “The guys wanna debrief in the dining hall.”

“Mmm’kay, but you know they’re gonna ask where we went last night, right? What do we say?” she peppered his back with kisses until he spun around, her arms still looped around his torso but now he could take her face into his hands.

“As if they’d remember, they’d be lucky to remember anything after doing shots.” He laughed, planting a kiss to her hair. 

Luke had been right. The boys and Bella all sat at one of the tables, coffees and bowls of cereals and plates of toast being poked at with hands cradling heads, hoods pulled over. Luke and y/n joined them, their own breakfast in front of them and slightly perkier than their friends.

“You guys look rough, long night?” Luke quipped, shoving cereal into his mouth. He didn’t feel too bad, but by the time he’d kissed y/n on the counter he’d sobered up. 

“Bro don’t even go there,” Mark grumbled, his face pale, “the last thing I remember is Ethan asking to do shots and beyond that is blank. Woke up on the floor in last night’s clothes.” 

“How the fuck are you okay, man? You were on beer and tequila!” Dylan complained, hoodie pulled high up his neck and drawstrings pulled tight, his hair dishevelled still. 

“No, no, there’s a more important question,” Mackie waved his spoon around at the group, giving Bella an encouraging side-eye, who kicked Ethan under the table.

“Ow, shit-” he hissed, but eventually catching the others drift. Y/n gulped, her breathing becoming shaky, and Luke’s hand found her knee, thumb caressing it softly as all eyes fell to the pair. What was she supposed to say now, anxiety fizzled in her stomach and Luke’s chest tightened. No, they weren’t ashamed but it’s not something you outwardly announce to people you’ve known just over a month, “Legend has it that there’s some deep lore going on here.”

Y/n exhaled, her breathing finding it’s pace again and Luke felt like he’d been freed of all his bounds. That…was not what they were expecting at all. They looked at each other uncertainly, shrugging before turning back to the others.

“Yeah, come on, do tell. If we’re gonna be friends, we gotta know the backstory of this whole thing we got roped into. We got time.” Mark leaned closer into the group, they all leaned closer as if they were about to hear the greatest secret of all time. 

They both sighed, Luke speaking up first, “Well, it all started when we were five-”

The retelling began, everyone invested in their cat and mouse game that demonstrated how naive and fragile the world can be. The rumble of the dining hall silenced out in their ears, and while one chapter closed for good, university would open another, but this time, they’d live it together where they’d be on the same page instead of skipping sections or tearing parts out. Luke got his girl and y/n got her romance, and neither would be stuck waiting on each other anymore.

small worlds | @bunbunbl0gs

nhl wags | @bunbunbl0gs

[Masterlist]

[Requests CLOSED]

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[tteotlma]

Sugar and Skin

1. First Encounter || Next

Bucky’s never been sure if normalcy is something he’s cut out for. But when he meets you—a baker with a pretty smile—he starts to think maybe he could try.

TattooArtist!Bucky x Baker!Reader (1.4kw)

tw: 18+ MDNI, mild language, subtle tension, implied attraction, slow-burn, strangers to friends to lovers a/n: happy new year! this year i'd like to actually begin and complete a multi-parter story so this is my attempt!

---

“Welcome in!” Bucky heard as he stepped into the bustling cafe shop. The smell of freshly brewed coffee, and baked bread quickly engulfed him. He looked around for the source of the voice while taking in the neatly curated shelves of novels, mismatched wooden tables and the large handwritten chalkboard menu boasting about an array of the day’s specials. Despite its charm, Bucky felt heavily out of place in his chipped leather jacket, and mud cracked boots. 

With the patrons weaving past him like he was another display in the shop he continued scanning the area noticing a few stray cats lounging throughout the space. They basked in the early afternoon sunlight that poured through the large windows. One, a sleek gray cat with white mittens and socks stretched lazily on the windowsill, while another a white cat with piercing blue eyes, watched the room with curious intensity.

The customers greeted the felines as they entered the shop and followed the line that formed at the counter where a young man with boyish charm and unruly brown hair was expertly managing the register. Meanwhile a man with a clean shaven jawline and an infectious grin moved confidently between the counter and the coffee makers. 

“You need some help?”

Bucky turned to the voice, finding himself at the end of the display case with a woman on the other side. Her hair was pinned up in a loose bun, a few stray strands escaping to frame her face. She barely paid him any mind as she deftly unloaded a giant tray of assorted pastries and bread into the glass showcase, her movements quick and practiced. The faint smudges of flour on her apron and the way she handled each item with care hinted at her role in crafting the delicacies.

“You look a little lost,” she said without looking up, her tone teasing but not unkind. "Can I help you find something, or are you just here to admire the cats?” she asked, finally glancing up at him. Her gaze was sharp but warm, assessing him with a mix of curiosity and amusement.

 Her teasing tone caught him off guard, making him glance up sharply. His ears seemed to perk slightly, before he quickly refocused. “Pick up,” he said, his voice low and clipped, offering her a tight-lipped smile that was more reflex than intentional. 

She let out a small hum. “Name?” 

“Steve.” 

“Oh yes–” Her demeanor instantly changed as she put the tray down, wiping her hands on her apron. “Let me get that for you.” Her hands masterfully opened a paper bag with clear cellophane, and slid open the sliding door to the showcase.

“Sam!” She yelled, causing Bucky to jolt. “I need Steven’s special.” She called out, and Bucky's eyes flicked back to her. Steven.

He heard a faint reply from across the cafe commotion and watched as she used the metal tongs to grab two bear claws from the wax paper lined tray. Bucky almost let out a snort but instead, he opted to shove his hands in his pockets, glancing down to his boots. He watched as crumbs of dirt crumbled from his shoe and littered the linoleum floor.

“What’s the Steven Special?” Bucky suddenly heard himself say. He looked at her through his lashes. He watched a small smile sneak across her lips. 

“A medium white chocolate macchiato, with two bear claws.” She said, fingers crinkling the bag shut as she slid it across the clear surface. This time Bucky let out a snort. Before he could thank her, she went back to unloading her discarded tray. He hesitated on grabbing the bag. 

“So you’re the new guy then?” She asked suddenly, quickly glancing at him. He looked at her. “Stevie's mentioned he’s expecting a new comer, and I’ve never seen you before so—” she explained. Stevie.

“Then yeah.” He gave a curt smile, reaching for the bag on the counter. 

“Thought so,” she said, her tone a hint lighter now as she turned back to her work. “He’s been talking ‘bout you for weeks, you know.”

“Nothing bad I hope.” 

 She turned to set down the now empty tray, glancing over her shoulder, a glint in her eye. “Depends on your definition of bad.” Her tone was playful but laced with just enough intrigue to make him pause. She spins swiftly, closing the display case. 

“Nah,” She shrugs with a smirk, “He’s just psyched you're here, it’s kinda cute.” 

Bucky raised an eyebrow. She waves a hand in the air.

“He’s just got this way of talking about things—”

“Order up.” 

The sudden burst out causing the both of you to abruptly turn toward the man holding out an oat-colored to-go cup.

The woman cleared her throat, shifting back to allow space for the man to step in. Her smirk faded into a polite, neutral expression, her focus now on adjusting a tray of napkins nearby.

“Steven’s special,” the man announced, his grin wide and easy, breaking through the tension that had lingered just a moment earlier.

Bucky’s eyes lingered on her for a moment longer before he turned toward the man, who was now leaning casually against the counter, holding the cup out as if he were presenting a prized trophy.

Bucky nodded and reached for the cup, his movements deliberate. “Appreciate it,” he said, his voice steady. 

“No problem,” the man replied, his tone light and teasing. “Better get it to him quick, he’s been talking about the claws all morning.” 

“Noted,” Bucky muttered, though his gaze flickered back toward the woman, who was now bent over another display, her attention fixed on her work as if the earlier exchange had never happened.

The man cleared his throat sharply, drawing Bucky’s attention. When Bucky turned toward him, he was already side-eyeing the woman before shifting his gaze back to Bucky with a deadpan expression. It wasn’t accusatory, but there was a challenge in the look—like he’d caught Bucky doing something he shouldn’t be.

Bucky’s brow twitched in response, his face otherwise impassive, and he adjusted the bag in his hand.

“Thanks again,” he said curtly, stepping back from the counter.

Sam held his gaze for a beat longer, then turned his attention away from him.

Bucky stepped toward the door, the hum of the café enveloping him once more. His grip tightened slightly on the bag as he moved, but something tugged at his attention, making him glance back one last time.

The man was now leaning against the counter, his posture relaxed, but his head tilted toward the woman. Whatever he’d said caused her to laugh softly, her shoulders shaking with the motion. The earlier ease in her posture had returned, her movements efficient and unbothered, as though their exchange had been nothing more than a routine part of her day.

She brushed a strand of hair from her face as she replied, her voice lost in the café’s hum. They shared another laugh.

Bucky’s jaw tightened, though his face betrayed nothing as he turned back toward the door. Pushing it open, he stepped into the cool air outside, the bell above jingling faintly as the door closed behind him.

As he walked down the street, the warmth of the café began to fade, but the soft intensity of the exchange lingered. He shook his head with a quiet huff of air, the bag crinkling faintly in one hand while the other held the to-go cup. His boots scuffed lightly against the pavement as he approached a sleek, dark car parked a few steps ahead.

Bucky unlocked it with a press of a button, the quiet beep breaking the stillness. Sliding into the driver’s seat, he set the paper bag on the passenger side and the cup in the holder before resting his hands on the steering wheel.

For a moment, he sat there, the hum of the café replaying in his mind. He exhaled sharply, shaking his head as if to clear it.

With a twist of the key, the engine purred to life, the quiet power of the car grounding him. As he pulled out onto the street, the cool air rushing through the window carried away the lingering warmth of the café—but not entirely.

---

Next

a/n: I know there's barely anything there but I have an idea and im jsut trying to roll with it -- so if you have any ideas let me know! i’m begging — pls reblog to support!

[cosmicalily]

'everything is romantic' with stray kids, ot8 headcanons by @cosmicalily

author's note: bad tattoos on leather tanned skin, jesus christ on a plastic sign, fall in love again and again...this is one of my favourite songs on the album (especially the version with caroline polachek!). i kind of love the idea that romance is in everything, from everyday actions to random objects, i think it's such a beautiful philosophy! enjoy this little list of everything that's romantic in my eyes...

everything is romantic...with chris

addressing you in australian slang nicknames. night drives to the beach with the windows down. buying your favourite albums on vinyl. sending screenshots of song lyrics. matching tattoos. staying up late talking. massaging your shoulders while you study. laying on his chest on your phone in the evenings.

everything is romantic...with minho

cat fur on your favourite black sweater. slow blinks from across the room. homemade dinners and red wine. walks through the forest in the early morning. making the bed around you while you sleep in. closing the blinds if you forget to before falling asleep. hundreds of weirdly specific yet endearing nicknames.

everything is romantic...with changbin

you as the cover of every instagram post. matching fluffy hello kitty pajama pants. referring to you as 'his wife' from day one of dating. buying you every cute trinket or keychain he lays his eyes on. your sanrio stickers on his laptop. his giggles anytime and every time you say something slightly amusing.

everything is romantic...with hyunjin

chamomile tea before going to bed. shared pinterest boards for your future home. sketches pinned up around the house. lipstick stains on the collars of his shirts. a photobooth strip in his phonecase. a red digicam dedicated to photos of you. sending voice notes rather than text messages.

everything is romantic...with jisung

studio ghibli soundtracks while you clean the house. always keeping your favourite ramen in the kitchen. letting you do his makeup. silly inside jokes. writing you sticky notes when he doesn't know how to verbalise his feelings. writing and composing little love songs for you whenever he gets inspiration.

everything is romantic...with felix

reposting every love-related tiktok on his fyp. matching jellycat keychains. freshly baked goods. braiding his hair in the evenings. watching 2000s chick flicks. strange yet wholesome meme references. matching beaded bracelets. at least nine different emojis to represent you for your contact on his phone.

everything is romantic...with seungmin

freshly washed bed linen every weekend. homemade coffee in the morning. annotating each other's books. his hands in your hair while you study. putting your phone on charge when you fall asleep. filling up your drink bottle. sitting beside you and watching you do your makeup. shoulder kisses. long hugs in the hallway.

everything is romantic...with jeongin

facemasks and self-care nights. picking out your outfits. letting you borrow his jewellery. bringing you an iced coffee on your break at work. matching shoes. sharing a scarf in winter. imitating each other in public and laughing at each other. poking his dimples. playing twister on the living room floor.

[mingtinys]

what dating seventeen feels like

pairing : seventeen x gn!reader

headcanons , fluff , misc

warnings : none

word count : 1.1 k

requested ? no

a/n: just a small collection of the things i love in life that i associate with seventeen

choi seungcheol

falling asleep on the couch and waking up in bed. chocolate-covered strawberries. the kind of love found in romcoms. expensive dinner dates and champagne.

cologne that lingers on your clothes and bed sheets. tight, bone-crushing, hugs. his hand almost always under the hem of your shirt, skin to skin (it grounds him). him letting you win when you play wrestle. cute aggression victim.

having a rock to hold on to amidst a raging current.

yoon jeonghan

diving under a crashing wave to find calm, gentle, water. rollercoasters with big drops. feathers. lavender fields. leaving the theater and realizing night has fallen.

always saying the same thing at the same time (it scares seokmin). naps on the couch. sending each other pictures of weird-looking animals with the caption "you" or "us." partners in crime. braiding his hair.

having not only a boyfriend but a best friend in jeonghan.

joshua hong

warm blankets, fresh from the dryer. pancakes and orange juice in the morning. raw honey. the scent of freshly baked bread. scented candles and wax melts.

lives up to the gentleman title. opens doors, bides by the sidewalk rule, lends you his jacket, etc. acts! of! service!! fighting over who pays the bill (he's actually ambushed your waiter to pay before you can even see the check). domestic, mundane, slice-of-life type of love.

a honeymoon phase that never ends.

wen junhui

walking down empty streets without a care in the world. morning cartoons. clingy cats. ice cream for dinner. frozen pizza with red wine. airport liminal space hours.

taking pictures of sunsets to send to each other. doodling on his hand. staying up until 3am accidentally. back hugs galore. resting his chin atop your head. him getting as close as possible when showing him something on your phone (i'm talking cheek smooshed up against yours). sleepy jun asking for kisses every morning.

living life in the moment because you know the future can wait for you two.

kwon soonyoung

energetic snow days. sledding, snowball fights, building snowmen. energy drinks and all-nighters. watermelon sugar. summer bonfires. the ambiance of muffled music through club bathrooms.

zoo dates. always wins you the biggest prizes at carnivals. his favorite place to nap is your lap. sweaty post-dance practice hugs. he gets pouty if you start a tv show without him. baking brownies at 3am. talks about you non-stop to anyone who will (or won't) listen.

excitement that isn't momentary or overwhelming. excitement that makes life meaningful.

jeon wonwoo

tulips blooming in the spring. waxing gibbous moons. amethyst. resting after a long, busy day. the scent of old, yellowed books. rhythmic clicking of a keyboard. warm, smooth, riverbank stones.

re-adjusting his glasses for him after every kiss. let's you design his character's outfits in video games. tells you about the book he's reading like it's gossip. he's always taking candid photos of you. quiet mornings. elderly couples who see you two are reminded of how they fell in love.

defining love not by how much it's said, but by how it's felt.

lee jihoon

thunderstorms that lull you to sleep. shiny, red guitars coming to life with smooth melodies. the crackle of a fire. rosemary. empty highways at night. lightning that strikes twice.

morning coffee dates at home. napping on his studio sofa while he works. quality! time! absolutely spoils you every chance he gets. pretends to act all cool when you catch him staring. writing songs for you. his hand routinely finds your knee when he's anxious. he prefers intimate and private acts of affection to the alternative.

cherishing all the little things that make your relationship important.

lee seokmin

wishing on dandelions. blue skies. morning dew on grass. golden hour. that burning sensation you get in your lungs when laughing too hard. iced lattes.

always asking permission to kiss you. so, so attentive. falling asleep on facetime. pillow forts. lots, and lots, and lots of nose kisses. him never wanting to leave you in the morning. "five more minutes" type of guy. his favorite feeling in the world is making you laugh.

finally knowing what it means to love someone so much you'd give the world for them.

kim mingyu

sleeping by a window with the sun warming your skin. hearing your favorite song on the radio. silky white sheets. first date jitters. first love. receiving a bouquet of roses.

admires you so, so, much. talks about you 24/7, much to his members' annoyance. (jk, they love you, they just like to tease him about it). literally a sponge the way he starts picking up your habits and slang. he's physically incapable of rejecting your puppy-dog eyes. likes to lay sprawled out on top of you. he'll often seek you out if he needs a little extra support.

the feeling that comes with knowing you've found "the one."

xu minghao

the autumn leaves changing. winter constellations. a solar eclipse. the quiet of a house before everyone wakes. those cozy granny-square blankets. white wine. laughing at scary movies.

wine and painting nights. him always making two cups of tea. art museum dates. swaying together to music in the kitchen. him secretly being a sucker for your doting. has your mannerisms memorized and prides himself on it. somehow always knows what to say when you're feeling down.

growing, learning, and experiencing life alongside each other.

boo seungkwan

warm, summer air. mystery flavored lollipops that somehow taste like every flavor all at once. rosy red cheeks.

teasing each other and inside jokes. nicknames like loser, stupid-head, idiot etc. (affectionate). hours long gossip sessions. kisses that taste of coffee and tangerine chapstick. stars in his eyes whenever you're doing literally anything. having his undivided attention.

resident happy pill and mood-maker seungkwan knowing he can let his mask fall around you without judgement.

hansol vernon chwe

watching city lights blur past in the passenger seat of a car at night. cereal at 1am. falling asleep while watching tv. poorly handmade, yet meaningful gifts. assorted candies. buying road trip snacks.

communicating with a single look. ice cream dates in the middle of winter. speaking purely in movie and tiktok references. late-night conversations that take a weird turn. (you've once debated if aliens would like pineapple on pizza). pretending not to notice how shy he gets when initiating physical affection.

loving the strange, bad, and hidden parts of each other as much as the good.

lee chan

the comforting buzz and motion of a subway at night. toothy smiles. watching reruns of your favorite childhood show. surprise parties. the first snow of the new year. concert lights.

driving at 2am, singing at the top of your lungs. random dance parties in the living room. getting noise complaints and giggling about it. pillow fights and board games, competitive, yet both trying to let the other win cause it'll make them happy. asking him to open jars. him getting exceptionally giddy to open said jars. (you're completely capable, but know he likes to feel needed).

making each other's inner child feel safe.

[kashverse]

hihi another request, can you do one where babykuna is spending a day with her uncle choso? it could be anything really, go to a park or play salon or baking or painting or even play dress-up! i could see choso making a custom matching outfits and kunapapa is just jealous he doesn't have a matching outfit with his baby girl.

thank youuu <3

if there is one thing choso understands in his line of work as uncle "chocho" to babykuna, it’s that every single day is a grind. not just in the business sense—no, no, no. this is the real world, where survival depends on working hard and playing harder.

and by "playing harder," he means getting absolutely swindled at the mall by a six-year-old and her unhinged ideas.

in the span of 24 hours, babykuna and choso now have:

matching deftones t-shirts—except the album cover of ‘around the fur’ has been horrifically swapped out with a 0.5x picture of babykuna's face, making her look like a cryptid mid-screech.

matching temporary tattoos—$20 per spray-on tattoo, an absolute scam, but babykuna had sparkly eyes when she picked out the designs, so what was he supposed to do? say no? ridiculous.

freshly painted nails—babykuna’s nails were pink with tiny skull stickers; choso’s were black with glitter. because, in her words, “you need to be sparkly and scary, uncle chocho.”

choso had just accepted his fate, proudly wearing his t-shirt and admiring his nails, when they walked through the front door.

enter sukuna.

sukuna, who had one expectation when his brother babysat his kid: to not be personally attacked by what he sees when he gets home. instead, he’s greeted by his daughter parading her new drip and his brother-in-law looking like a deftones fan who got lost in the hello kitty section of a hot topic.

“what. the. fuck.”

babykuna threw her arms up. "PAPA! LOOK!" she twirled around, showing off her custom t-shirt with her own terrifyingly distorted face. “we MATCH!” sukuna’s eye twitched. "oh, do you? huh. isn't that nice. isn't that—ABSOLUTELY UNFAIR."

choso blinked. "uh."

sukuna gestured wildly at babykuna, then back at choso, then back at babykuna. "why do you match with ‘chocho’ but not me?!"

babykuna gasped. “OH MY GOD, YOU’RE RIGHT!” choso, sensing danger, took a defensive step back. “listen, man, she—”

"shut up, choso. shut the fuck up, choso." sukuna rubbed his temples, betrayed. "first, my own daughter—MY OWN DAUGHTER—matches with my dumbass brother before me, and now you’re telling me that i’m the only one without a stupid ass t-shirt?!"

babykuna, to her credit, looked genuinely apologetic. “papa… i can make you one too?” sukuna sighed dramatically, dragging a hand down his face. "oh, now i get a t-shirt. now."

babykuna nodded earnestly. "yes! with an ugly picture of you, just like me!"

choso let out a quiet snort. big mistake.

sukuna turned to him immediately. “what the hell are you laughing at, you glittery dumbass?” choso, who now regretted his entire day at the mall, cleared his throat. “...nothing.”

sukuna exhaled through his nose, like an aggressive bull preparing to charge. "where’s baby? at least he wouldn’t betray me like this."

that was when baby the orange tabby casually walked by, decked out in a tiny version of babykuna and choso’s t-shirts, tail flicking behind him like a king among peasants. sukuna's soul left his body.

"YOU DRAGGED THE CAT INTO THIS?!"

[mrsfancyferrari]

Teach Me

Summary: MV1 + “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up,"

Song: It's Beginning to Look a Lot Like Christmas by Michael Bublé

Author’s note: Sorry it took so long to release a Christmas fics. Exam mocks are really kicking my ass right now! Please like, reblog and share this! 🫶

Word count: 10.8k

MASTERLIST - F1

Christmas had always been a grand affair in your family, an extravaganza of twinkling lights, laughter, and the warm, cinnamon embrace of freshly baked cookies.

From the moment you could remember, your mother would orchestrate a symphony of holiday cheer—everyone involved, from the youngest child to the oldest grandparent, had a part to play.

The joyous chaos of your family’s Christmas Eve traditions was something you cherished, an unshakable foundation of love that enveloped you every year.

But as you sat on the couch, a steaming cup of peppermint hot chocolate cradled in your hands, you watched Max, your best friend, from across the room, use his computer to read his email.

He was staying over at yours for the week since he thought it would be better to stay with someone over the holidays than stay by himself with his cats in Monaco.

His brow was furrowed, tongue poking out slightly as he concentrated; a sight that made you smile. But then he said something that spun your world off its axis.

“I don’t really do much for Christmas,” he remarked, his voice disconnected, as if he were commenting on the weather rather than divulging a piece of his soul.

You looked up, your heart tightening in disbelief. “What do you mean, you don’t do much?” Your voice came out sharper than intended, the surprise and concern mixing into a jumble of emotions that suddenly felt too big for your small living room. “Like… at all?”

Max shrugged, a hint of embarrassment tracing the lines of his face. “I don’t know. My family doesn’t celebrate like that. We might exchange a few gifts, but it’s not a big deal, you know? Just a regular day for us.”

A regular day. The words clanged against your heart like a fallen ornament, shattering the idyllic image you had created of sharing the holidays together.

How could someone not revel in the joy of Christmas?

The traditions, the twinkle of lights, the warmth of family—these were the things that made the season magical.

“Oh,” you whispered, suddenly feeling a chasm form between you. You took a sip of your hot chocolate, not sure how to navigate this unfamiliar terrain.

Your childhood memories flooded your mind—caroling with your neighbors, the ritual of finding the perfect Christmas tree, and the way your father would always bungle his lines while reading ‘Twas the Night Before Christmas.

Max must have felt the shift in the air; he looked up, catching the troubled expression on your face. “Is it weird that I don’t celebrate?” He gave you a small, tentative smile, as if he were trying to gauge your reaction.

Your heart thudded, and the truth hung dangerously on the tip of your tongue. Could you accept this about him? “Um, no… it’s just… It’s really important to me.”

You weren’t sure how to articulate the depth of your feelings, the nostalgia that struck you like a cold wind at the thought of a muted Christmas devoid of celebration.

“I didn’t mean to—”

“No, Max, I’m sorry,” you interjected. “It’s not your fault. I guess I just expected… well, more.”

Turning away to hide your emotions, you felt a tightening in your chest. You wondered if it was possible to bridge the gap between two worlds so different.

To you, Christmas was warm hugs and laughter, while to him, it was merely an ordinary day.

As you both continued to watch the show on the TV in silence, a plan began to form in your mind.

What if you could share your Christmas with him? What if you could envelop him in the warmth of your family’s traditions, guide him through the whirlwind of what the holiday truly meant to you?

That night, you stayed up late, tossing and turning, rehearsing the idea in your mind like an actor preparing for a role.

The next day, you broached the topic over breakfast.

“Max,” you started, tentative but hopeful, “what if you joined my family this Christmas? We have so many traditions, and it would be amazing to share them with you.”

You watched closely as he took a bite of his toast, the surprise etched on his face like the designs on your family’s old holiday plates.

“Are you sure?” he asked, eyebrows raised. “I don’t want to crash your family’s holiday. It sounds like it means a lot to you.”

“It does,” you replied, leaning forward, excitement building. “But I want to share it with you. I want you to experience Christmas through my eyes.”

After a moment, his expression softened, and a smile appeared. “Okay, if you really want me there, I’d love to join,” he said, his initial hesitancy fading away beneath the glow of your enthusiasm.

As the sun began to dip below the horizon, casting a rosy glow across the sky, your phone buzzed with a call from your parents. You picked it up, expecting a routine check-in, but it was a little different this time.

“Hey, honey!” your mom chirped on the other end. “We were hoping you could come over and help us decorate the Christmas tree.”

“Sure! But is everything okay?” you asked, noting a tinge of urgency in her voice.

“It’s your dad,” she said, lowering her voice. “His back has been acting up again, and he insists he can’t be on his feet too long. I’d hate to do it all by myself.”

You chuckled, picturing your dad stubbornly trying to avoid any heavy lifting, even if it meant sitting on the couch, grumbling about the decorations.

“Alright, I’ll be there soon. Do you mind if I bring Max along? He’s been staying with me for the holidays, and quite frankly, he’s getting a bit bored.”

“Of course! The more, the merrier! I’m sure he’ll love it!” she replied, her voice brightening. “See you in a bit!”

The pungent aroma of gingerbread wafted through the air as you stirred a pot of simmering cocoa on the stove. Christmas music played softly in the background, intermingling with the sounds of Max fumbling around in the kitchen.

“Max! Do you want to go help decorate my parents’ tree?” you called out, trying to be heard over the clinking of dishes and the low hum of the music.

He appeared at the kitchen doorway, a puzzled expression on his face. “Are you sure I won’t ruin it for you? I hardly know anything about Christmas,” he replied, wringing his hands, suddenly self-conscious.

“Max, relax! It’s about having fun, not just making it look perfect,” you assured him, a grin spreading across your face. “Besides, my dad’s back is acting up, and they could use an extra pair of hands. It’ll be good for us both to get out of the house and do something festive.”

He seemed to mull it over, a slight furrow forming on his brow. “Alright then, let’s go,” he said with a sigh, walking back to finish putting the remaining cookies on sheets for baking.

Once you two arrived at your parents' cozy two-story house, the inviting glow of warm lights twinkled through the windows, making it feel even more like a holiday wonderland.

The scent of pine filled the air as you stepped inside. Your mom greeted you with a wide smile and a warm embrace.

“Thank you for coming, you two! I’m so glad you could help,” she said before turning to her husband, who was gingerly stretching his back on the sofa.

You pulled back slightly to face her, noticing her festive sweater with reindeer prancing across the front. “Of course! We wouldn’t miss it for the world,” you replied, a smile creeping onto your face.

As you glanced toward your dad, you caught him gingerly stretching his back on the sofa. He grunted softly, rubbing at a spot just above his hips. “I’m fine! Just did a little too much holiday decorating, that’s all,” he said, trying to sound nonchalant.

"Hello, Y/N's mom and dad," Max said shyly, standing a bit awkwardly with his hands shoved deep into his pockets. He had only seen your parents twice before, and each time was a whirlwind of excitement and nerves for him.

“Max! It’s so wonderful to see you again,” your mom chirped, immediately stepping over to him, arms open. He hesitated for just a moment, but then accepted her hug, easing slightly as she welcomed him with warmth.

“What happened, Dad? Did you lift something heavy?” you asked as Max and you set your jackets down on the coat rack.

“Just a little heavy lifting here and there,” your dad said with a dismissive wave of his hand. “You know, moving boxes up to the attic and making sure the Christmas lights are all working. I might have overdone it, though.”

“Remember last year?” you teased. “When you insisted you could get that giant inflatable snowman by yourself?”

“Hey! That snowman was a real battle. But look how magnificent he was once I got him set up!” he countered, puffing his chest out with pride.

You chuckled, knowing that the holiday spirit always brought out the competitive side of your father. “This year, let’s take it easy.” you suggested.

“Me and Max will put on the rest of the tree decorations, so you two go and rest,” you playfully ordered, a grin spreading across your face.

You gestured towards the mound of glittering ornaments and fairy lights that lay waiting to be hung, an assortment of memories collected over the years.

Your mom chuckled softly as she helped your dad, who was trying to rise from the couch. “Thanks, you two,” she said, glancing back at the tree adorned with half-placed baubles.

She spared a loving look at your dad, her eyes shimmering with tenderness, before leading him to their bedroom. “We’ll just take a quick nap, and then we’ll join you for hot cocoa.”

“I’ll hold you to that!” you called after her, the aroma of chocolate baking wafting through your kitchen.

Just as the door clicked shut behind you, Max stepped into view, his hands stuffed deep in the pockets of his green hoodie.

“Alright, Max,” you said, taking a step back to admire the bare pine tree. “What do you think? Are you ready to decorate?”

Max looked up at the tree, its branches heavy with potential. “It’s, um, a lot taller than I expected,” he said, scratching his head. His light brown hair flopped over his forehead as he shifted on his feet. “How do you even start?”

You chuckled, feeling a sense of amusement and excitement bubbling up inside of you. “Well, for me, it starts with the lights. You can’t have a Christmas tree without lights!”

“Lights? Like, the kind that twinkle?” His wide-eyed expression radiated a mixture of intrigue and skepticism.

“Exactly! And they’re the best part.” You walked over to the box where the twinkling fairy lights lay coiled. “Here, hold this end,” you said, handing him one end of the string of lights. “Watch closely, and you might just learn a thing or two.”

Together, you two draped the lights around the branches, winding them carefully to imitate a gentle cascade. Despite his initial uncertainty, Max followed your lead, and you were surprised at how quickly he picked up the rhythm.

As you worked, you thought about how different this was for him. “So, Max, what do you usually do at this time of year?”

He paused, biting his lip as if recalling a distant memory. “Um, not much, really. My family just… doesn’t celebrate anything during the winter. My parents went away on a business trip last Christmas, and it was just me and my video games.”

You frowned. “That sounds kind of lonely.”

“Yeah, it was,” he admitted with a small shrug. “I’ve always wondered what it’d be like to do something festive, though. Like… this.”

He gestured at the lights you were hanging, and a little smile broke through. “It’s different. Good different.”

“Good!” you smiled back, feeling your heart warm. “I love that you’re getting to experience it with me.”

You finished hanging the lights, and you stepped back to admire your work. “Alright, next we get to hang the ornaments! These are my favorite part.”

You pulled out the box filled with ornaments, some homemade, some collected over the years. Each ornament held its own story.

“Whoa, look at this one,” Max said, holding up a glass snowman that sparkled as he tilted it in the light. “What’s the story behind it?”

With a nostalgic sigh, you took a seat on the floor surrounded by ornaments. “Oh, that one! My grandmother made it when I was little. She used to tell me that if we hang it on the tree, it would keep us safe from snowstorms.”

Max looked at you, his brows furrowed. “Safe from snowstorms? Does it… work?”

You laughed, feeling the warmth of memory wash over you. “To be honest, I’m not sure, but it makes me feel good to have it there. It reminds me of her, and Christmas is about holding onto those memories, right?”

Max nodded thoughtfully, placing the ornament on a branch. “I think I understand. It’s more than just decorations; it’s about the people and the moments.”

“Yes! You’re getting it!” you cheered, feeling the joy of sharing this tradition take root in your hearts. As you continued to hang the ornaments, you noticed how Max’s fingers brushed over each one, examining them as if they were precious relics.

“What’s this one?” he asked, lifting a shiny red ball with a silver ribbon tied around it.

“That’s one I made in art class when I was in fifth grade. I was so proud of it! Can you imagine?” you grinned, remembering the day you came home with it in hand.

“It looks nice,” Max said, his admiration genuine. “You were pretty crafty back then,”

“Still am!” you shot back, playfully nudging him with your elbow. “Just wait until you see the tree when it’s all done.”

As you continued to hang each ornament, you began to chat more about your families, your interests, and the things you two loved. With each conversation, the air filled with laughter and anticipation.

“Are we really putting up the angel this year?” he asked, glancing over at you with a teasing smirk.

“Of course! It’s tradition,” you insisted, a firm look on your face. After all, it was important to maintain the little things that connected your world, your friendship. “You know we can’t let it down.”

Max chuckled, and the sound was like a breath of fresh air. “All right then, but I’m the one who usually puts it on top. It’s kind of my thing.”

You shook your head, a smile creeping onto your lips. “Not this year. I’m doing it. You can help me, but I’m the one putting it on top.”

“Okay, Miss Determination,” he replied, his tone mildly sarcastic, but he stepped aside as you grabbed a wooden stool from the corner of the room.

Your heart raced slightly—not just from the excitement but from a deeper, indescribable atmosphere crackling between you two.

You steadied the stool, glancing back at Max, who was still watching, arms crossed, his expression playful yet somehow, deeply attentive. His gaze held a weight that made your stomach flip, and you could swear there was a beat where the air thickened around you.

You climbed onto the stool, your heart thrumming in your chest like a tiny drum, as you reached for the starry-eyed angel that gleamed at the top of the Christmas tree.

It felt higher than you remembered, and a sense of confidence mingled with a rush of fear surged within you—like standing on the edge of an uncertain cliff.

“Easy there!” Max cautioned, his voice a mixture of concern and amusement. “Maybe I should be doing this.”

You rolled your eyes but couldn’t suppress the tiny thrill that his closeness brought—only a foot separating you now, his breath mingling in the air as he leaned closer.

“Don’t you dare come over here. I’ve got this,” you insisted, waving him off with a playful faux annoyance.

But before you could even register what happened next, the stool wobbled. Your heart jumped as you lost your balance, and instinct kicked in.

You flailed, arms going wide, but before you could topple down completely, a strong hand shot out, grabbing you and pulling you back against him.

“Whoa! I got you!” Max said, surprise mingled with exhilaration in his voice.

You found yourself hanging in the air for a moment, all thoughts of the angel forgotten as Max held you firmly, your feet dangling inches above the ground.

Your heart raced not just from the fall but from the electric intimacy of the moment, your bodies pressed together, the warmth of his body wrapping around you like a blanket.

“Maybe I should have done this part,” he murmured, his face inches from yours.

His gaze held yours, a mixture of playfulness and something deeper, something you both had danced around for so long, unspoken and heavy in the air.

“Okay, okay,” you breathed, a slight embarrassment creeping into you. “Just let me get back up. I can do it.”

Yet, as his arms remained around your waist, you felt an intense flutter in your chest, the world around you fading into a gentle hush.

Everything seemed to slow—a heartbeat, a moment of depth, the shared breath between friends that felt like it could be something more.

“Are you sure?” he asked, brows knitting slightly as he studied your expression, his grip firm yet gentle.

“Just a little higher,” you whispered, and he complied, lifting you just a bit higher up, careful and steady. For a moment, you felt balanced, your body suspended, held securely by him.

With a slight adjustment, you reached for the angel perched above, heart racing.

When you finally grasped the angel in your hands, you could hardly contain your joy. “I got it! Look!” you exclaimed, beaming down at him.

Your smile matched the twinkling lights strung across the room, the room alive with holiday spirit.

“You did it!” He grinned, his eyes sparkling as he gazed up at you. “But let’s see if you can put it on the tree without falling again.”

You took a breath, carefully repositioning to reach the top of the tree without losing your balance, and to your surprise, you did it. You placed the angel right on top, the final touch to an enchanting creation.

As you settled back on the stool, Max’s hands lingered a moment longer on your waist, his eyes locked onto yours in a way that stirred something deep inside you.

“You really are something else,” he said softly, admiration flooding his tone.

You met his gaze, a million words left unspoken, a shared understanding hanging in the air between you. In that moment, amidst the tree, the decorations, and the warmth of the season, you both realized that everything could change—if only you'd take the step to speak what lingered in the silent spaces.

“Max, I—”

His breath hitched, anticipation crackling like the electricity between you.

“You really are something else,” he said softly, admiration flooding his tone.

You met his gaze, a million words left unspoken, a shared understanding hanging in the air between you.

In that moment, amidst the twinkling lights of the Christmas tree, the festive decorations draped lazily across the walls, and the warmth of the season, you both realized that everything could change—if only you’d take the step to speak what lingered in the silent spaces.

“Okay guys, are you almost done? We need to get this Christmas party started!” your mom’s voice rang into the room, cutting through the moment like a loud alarm.

You both jumped, the spell shattered in an instant.

“Yeah, um, right!” you stammered, pulling back slightly from his touch and forcing a smile.

The twinkling lights that had felt so inviting moments earlier now seemed to cast shadows, distorting the possibilities just spoken.

Max raked a hand through his tousled hair, irritation flickering in his eyes. “It’s fine,” he murmured, but it felt anything but fine.

The silence between you swelled with tension, unspoken words echoing in the air.

“Do you think we have enough decorations up? Or should we add more garlands?” you asked, attempting to redirect your racing thoughts.

It was a weak attempt, a desperate grasp for normalcy. But you could feel the distance widening, the moment fading like the last glow of an ember.

Max turned to help you adjust another string of lights, his fingers brushing yours as you worked side by side. “I think it looks great,” he said, though his tone lacked its usual enthusiasm.

His eyes darted around the room instead of settling on you.

“Thanks,” you replied softly, your heart heavy with the words that had been interrupted.

“What’s taking so long?” Your mom poked her head through the doorway, hands on her hips. “You two better hurry up or your father is going to eat all the cookies. And trust me, you know how fast he eats when his back hurts.”

You both chuckled uncomfortably. “We’re almost done!” you called out, exchanging a glance laden with mixed emotions.

As you both trudged into the kitchen, the comforting yet chaotic scent of melted chocolate, vanilla, and a hint of cinnamon greeted you.

Your father sat at the counter, a plate of cookies in one hand and a glass of milk in the other. Crumbs dusted his sweater, remnants of his early encounter with the treats.

“Save some for us, Dad!” you exclaimed, snatching a cookie just out of reach.

You made a mock of your father’s crunching sound like a movie monster, mimicking the terrifying yet silly creatures from the last film you hadn’t quite finished watching.

“‘Save some’ was my plan until your mother left,” he chuckled, taking another bite. Somehow, amidst the crumbs and laughter, he looked both amused and guilty. “Didn’t realize how fast they’d vanish. These cookies? They’re a blessing.”

You rolled your eyes. “I can’t believe you,” you teased, trying to lighten the previously heavy mood, but the weight clung to the air like an unwanted guest. You grabbed a cookie as well, feeling the soft warmth radiating from it.

“Are they good?” Max asked, eyeing the colorful array of cookies, his curiosity mingled with hunger. He reached for one, nosily nibbling on the edge of the plate.

“Epic,” your dad said with a nod, his mouth full. “Even if I say so myself.” He looked down, catching crumbs on his lap.

“Good enough to distract you from your back pain?” you pressed gently, trying to lighten the mood, even if just a little.

Your dad’s laughter faltered for a moment, replaced by a visible glimmer of sorrow, a fleeting reminder of years that brought more than just joyful memories.

“Ah, well, that along with every other distraction I can find,” he replied, his voice tinged with a sadness you could hear but not see, as if every word was a careful piece painted in gray shades.

Just as the silence began to stretch uncomfortably, your mother entered the kitchen, a warm smile brightening her face, although tired lines around her eyes told a different story.

“Everyone’s been out of sorts today. Should we all sit down together?” she suggested, motioning gently toward the living room.

“Sounds good,” you said, stepping back from the cookie plate. “Just let me snag a few more first.” You plucked three more cookies and stuffed them into your pockets, ensuring you were ready for later consumption.

Max smirked at your cookie-stashing antics. “You really think you will need that many for a five-minute stroll to the living room?”

“Hey,” you replied, holding a cookie aloft like a trophy, “you never know when the cookie monster strikes!”

Your dad chuckled again, and the tension broke slightly. “Well, if it gets too frightening, I suppose I can lend you my sweater for protection.” He gestured grandly to the crumbs adorning it.

“However, I warn you, the last person who tried to wear it claimed to have lost a battle with sugar and chocolate.”

You giggled, imagining someone in an epic showdown against a plate of cookies while wearing that sweater. “I’ll take my chances!” you said, confidently slinging a couple of cookies into your pockets before you finally sashayed toward the living room.

As you entered, the glittering Christmas tree sparkled in the dim light, each ornament reflecting both the colorful bulbs and the excitement that filled the air.

The sounds of bells jingled softly, punctuated by the occasional laughter from your mom as she rearranged a hodgepodge of decorations.

You plopped down on the couch, managing to get crumbs on the cushion as you settled in. Max followed, a teasing look still plastered on his face.

“So, what’s the plan now? A cookie feasting or a Christmas carol performance?”

“Why not both?” Max suggested, taking a bite of one of the prized cookies. The sweet explosion of chocolate instantly heightened your holiday spirit. “We could start a new Christmas tradition!”

“Yeah! Cookie caroling!” you exclaimed.

Just then, your mom turned to you with a thoughtful expression. “So, we were thinking maybe you wanted to stay over for Christmas?”

She moved a few ornaments on the tree, her hands deftly arranging them with the care of someone who wanted everything just perfect.

You glanced at Max, who had already raised his eyebrows in surprise. Staying over for Christmas would mean a whole day of festivities, treats, and memories.

But it also meant leaving Max behind if he couldn’t join. A pang of longing shot through you at the thought of him being alone.

“Can Max stay too?” you surprised yourself by asking, your voice light but earnest.

“Of course he can!” your dad chimed in, giving Max a reassuring smile. “We always have room for friends, especially at Christmas.”

Max’s face lit up, a mix of relief and joy spreading across his features. “Really? Thank you for letting me stay,” He leaned back into the couch with a grin, looking thoroughly pleased with himself.

Your mom smiled warmly, returning to straighten the tree decorations. “I’ll make sure to set up a cozy spot for you, Max. We’ll even have a hot chocolate station!”

“Whoa, a hot chocolate station?” Max echoed, his eyes widening. “My festive drink dreams are coming true!”

Laughing, you leaned towards him. “Just prepare for my intense marshmallow-to-chocolate ratio. I'm known for going overboard.”

Max chuckled. “I’ll risk it for a cup with you!”

“I just might put extra whipped cream on yours,” you teased.

“Bring it on,” he shot back confidently, but there was a spark of determination in his eyes that made you look forward to a friendly competition. . . .

You were nestled in the guest room at your parents' house, a cozy haven with a view of the holiday lights twinkling just outside the window.

Christmas Eve had always been a special time filled with warmth and nostalgia, but this year, all you could focus on was Max, who was sprawled out on the couch in the living room.

You had invited him over for the festivities, and while it felt good to have him around, a worry gnawed at you—was he cold out there?

As you snuggled beneath the blankets, the fluorescent glow of string lights outside painted the walls in a soft, warm hue.

‘He’ll be fine,’ you reassured yourself. ‘It’s just one night.’ Yet the thought of him alone, wrapped in a blanket that could barely keep him comfortable, stirred restlessness within you.

You wanted to go out and offer him a cozy spot next to you, but you didn’t want to disturb him, especially if he managed to finally drift off.

After an hour of tossing and turning amidst visions of reindeer and jingling bells, you heard a soft knock at the door.

Your heart raced, mingling excitement with a touch of anxiety. Slowly, you swung the door open and there he was, Max, standing there with his fluffy pillow tucked under one arm.

The sight of him was undeniably endearing, and you fought the urge to smile like a fool.

“Hey, what’s up?” you asked, trying to keep your voice even. You stepped aside to let him in, noticing how the warm glow of the room contrasted with the chilly air he had brought in with him.

“I… just couldn’t fall asleep,” he admitted, looking down at his feet. “I didn’t know if you’d be awake, so I thought I’d check.”

“Oh, well, I’m definitely still awake,” you said, the playful tilt of your lips escaping before you could stop it. “I was trying to catch Santa.”

“Really?” Max’s eyes widened, filled with mock disbelief. “You think Santa’s actually going to show up here?”

“Well, it’s Christmas Eve! Why wouldn’t he?” You plopped down on the edge of your bed, inviting him to sit. “Just because we’re older doesn’t mean we can’t believe. It’s part of the fun!”

Max chuckled, settling onto the floor cross-legged, his pillow still clutched to his chest. “Okay, okay, I get it. But still, how do you plan to catch him? With a camera or something?”

“Maybe,” you said, half-seriously. “I might have some tricks up my sleeve. What about you? What did you think—would you prefer to catch Santa or find out if reindeer actually fly?”

He pondered that for a moment, his brows furrowing in concentration. “Hmmm, that’s a tough choice. I think I’d prefer to see the reindeer fly, actually. I mean, how do they even do it? I’d love to see those little hooves take off!”

“You know, if you stand up and pretend to be one, maybe that’s the secret,” you teased, your heart lifting at the sound of laughter that poured from him. It felt good, this mini-adventure in imagination.

Max shook his head, his smile infectious. “Absolutely not! I’ll leave the magical reindeer business to you, thank you very much.”

“Fair enough,” you said, grinning back at him. The air was lighter now, filled with a playful spirit that made the room feel even cozier. “But I’ve got to ask—are you cold out there on the couch?”

Max’s smile faltered for just a moment. “A little. I wasn’t thinking about that when I decided to crash on the couch, I swear! Just didn’t want to kick you out of your own room.”

“That’s sweet of you, but you can just come here next time if you want,” you offered, feeling a warmth spreading inside you. “There’s plenty of room.”

He glanced at your bed, then back to you. “Are you sure? I don’t want to be a bother.”

Taking in his slightly sheepish expression, you sat up straighter. “You’re not! We can keep each other company while we wait for Santa… or at least talk about whatever silly thing pops into our heads.”

Max’s eyes glimmered with delight. “You know what? That sounds perfect.” He picked up his pillow and moved it to your bed, settling down beside you. “Okay, so how do we catch Santa then?”

“First, we need snacks! Santa loves cookies. We can’t let him go hungry,” you declared, leaping up and heading for the kitchen.

When you returned, you carried a plate stacked high with the best cookies your mom had made—snowflakes, gingerbread men, and festive sprinkle biscuits.

“Wow, you’re serious about this,” Max teased, grabbing a cookie. “Okay, then let’s make a plan. If we take shifts—”

“Shifts?” you interrupted with a gasp, the laughter bubbling over. “We’re not soldiers guarding the North Pole, Max!”

He couldn’t hold back his own laughter. “Okay, fine. No shifts. But how about we set up where we can see the tree and the cookies, and then when someone looks away, the other has to keep a lookout?”

“Deal. And when we catch Santa, you have to promise not to scream,” you added, snickering.

“Like I’d do that,” he said, rolling his eyes. “Okay, I’m going to be the lookout then.”

Minutes turned into hours as the night unfolded beneath the glow of your soft fairy lights, laughter blending with stories and silly reindeer poses.

For the first time that night, the ticking down to Christmas felt less like a wait and more like a cherished moment shared.

You positioned yourself comfortably, but couldn’t help sneaking glances at him. One moment, he caught your gaze, and an unusual silence settled between you. The playful banter slipped away and instead, the warmth in his eyes drew you in.

He leaned a little closer, his voice softening. “You okay?”

“I am,” you said, but your heart raced more from the shift in ambiance than the excitement of catching Santa. The air was somehow charged with a tension that felt both thrilling and terrifying.

Max's gaze lingered on you, and for just a heartbeat, you both held still. You couldn’t ignore the heat rising in your cheeks. Your eyes flickered down to his lips, and you felt a magnetic pull towards him.

For a moment, you thought he might lean in. Then, as if struck by an invisible force, you turned away. “I—sorry, I just…” You stammered, struggling to find your words.

But Max’s eyes, filled with curiosity and a hint of longing, didn’t let you off the hook so easily. “What is it?” he asked gently, his voice low and soothing.

“Nothing!” you rushed out, a laugh escaping that sounded a bit too high-pitched. “I think maybe I just stared at the lights too long.”

“Sure,” he replied, but the playful tone was gone, replaced by something softer, more sincere. “You can tell me, you know. I won’t bite.”

You took a deep breath, trying to steady the rapid beating of your heart. “It’s just… really nice, being here with you. I mean, it’s Christmas Eve and we’re supposed to be having fun, but… it feels different this time.”

His expression softened even further, as though he understood completely. “Yeah, I feel it too.”

With a small smile, he shifted closer, letting the comfort of the moment wash over you. “Maybe it’s the cookies or the tree. Or maybe it’s because we’re just getting older.”

Under the thick blanket, you shifted again, settling into the warmth he radiated. “Now come closer; you’re taking all of the blanket,” you teased, nudging him lightly with your shoulder.

Max slowly moved to close the gap, his body edging over but hesitating just a tad as if he feared touching you too much would shatter the serene moment.

“I’m scared,” he blurted, glancing sideways, his cheeks tinged a light shade of pink.

“Scared?” you repeated, surprised. “Of what?”

“Of ruining this, I guess,” he confessed, his voice barely above a whisper. “Everything feels so perfect, and I don’t want to mess it up by making a wrong move.”

You raised an eyebrow, intrigued. “Like what?”

“Making you uncomfortable,” he said. He drummed his fingers nervously on the blanket. “What if I lean too far, or what if I say something silly and it turns this into one of those moments where you laugh uncomfortably because you’re not sure how to react?”

“I wouldn’t laugh at you,” you replied earnestly, shifting so you could look at him properly. “And even if you said something silly, we’d just laugh it off, right?”

He looked at you with soft brown eyes, gauging the sincerity in your expression. “You promise?”

“Absolutely,” you said, feeling a warmth bloom in your chest. “Why would I want to ruin this either? I like where we are, Max. It feels… right.”

“I just…” he paused, the weight of his thoughts hanging in the air, “I like being around you. You make everything lighter. But I don’t want to push you away.”

You leaned closer, feeling the thud of your heart echo in the space between you. The bottle of uncertainty that had been keeping both of you at bay began to crack. “It’s okay; you’re not pushing me away. I want you here.”

The tilt of your head must have been inviting enough, because he shifted in closer, the gap between you dissolving like morning mist. He was tentative, still afraid of breaking the moment, but the warmth you felt was from more than just the blanket.

“See?” you said softly as he wrapped an arm around your shoulders. “Not so scary, right?”

“I guess not,” he chuckled, relief flooding his features. “But I just can’t help it; I keep thinking about how everything could change. What if it goes wrong?”

“Max,” you said, resting your head against his shoulder, inhaling the familiar scent of his cologne, “worrying about what might happen keeps you from enjoying what’s happening now. Isn’t that what people do? They get so lost in what’s next that they forget to appreciate what they have?”

His silence was contemplative as he pulled you a fraction closer, the warmth of him wrapping around you like the blanket. “You’re right. I guess I just really want this to last… us.”

Your heart fluttered at his words. The vulnerability in his tone was striking, and it planted a seed of hope within you. “So, let’s just be in this moment,” you suggested, draping the blanket more tightly around your bodies.

“Here and now. No expectations. Just us.”

He nodded slowly, and for a moment, the sound of snow became the soundtrack of your cocoon. Slowly, his fingers brushed against yours, a gentleness that sent a ripple of warmth through you.

A smile broke across his face, one that sent warmth through you like the first rays of sun after a long, cold night. “Sounds perfect,” he said, his voice deepening in that way you had come to adore.

You settled back against him, draping the soft blanket more tightly around your bodies. The fabric felt like a cloud, cocooning you in a protective bubble.

Outside, the snow continued its gentle descent, each drop creating a soft symphony that seemed to echo the beats of your hearts.

He fell silent for a moment, and you watched as he closed his eyes, letting the rhythm of the snow wash over him. “I wonder how many people wish for this,” he mused, his voice barely more than a whisper.

“I think a lot,” you replied softly, feeling the weight of his words linger in the air. “But it’s ours. We shouldn’t take it for granted.”

The two of you settled into a comfortable silence, as peaceful and inviting as the sound of the snow against the window. You felt yourself beginning to relax, lulled by the warmth of him, the steady rhythm of his heartbeat echoing against your cheek where it rested.

Your eyes fluttered closed, and you let out a long, slow breath, feeling the world around you begin to fade away.

“Stay with me,” he murmured, sensing your drift towards slumber.

“Always,” you replied, feeling your eyelids grow heavier. In the sanctuary you had created, enveloped in warmth and affection, you allowed the quiet to take over as your thoughts turned hazy.

And with that, you drifted into a peaceful sleep, the comfort of his presence, the shelter of the blanket, and the soft patter of the snow wrapping you both in a cocoon of tranquility.

Here, in this moment, everything was right, and your hearts whispered promises that could span across a lifetime. . . . .

You woke up to the gentle thrum of a heartbeat against your ear, warmth enveloping you fully. The sound brought you back slowly to the present, and you smiled as you remembered where you were.

The faint smell of pine and cinnamon wafted through the air, intermingling with the warmth of the blankets draped over you.

You were home, nestled in bed beside him, accompanied by the soft glow of fairy lights strung around the room.

Turning slightly, you found him still beside you, his arms wrapped around you in a secure embrace. His chest rose and fell rhythmically beneath your head, and his breath sounded deep and peaceful.

You cherished this moment like the most precious gift, knowing that today was Christmas Day.

You smiled at the thought and snuggled a little closer, feeling the sleep still clinging to your eyelids. "Merry Christmas," you whispered, not wanting to disturb the beautiful serenity of the morning.

He stirred a little, pulling you even closer. "Mmm, Merry Christmas," he murmured, his voice husky from sleep.

He tilted his head to meet your gaze, his eyes sparkling with mirth. “What time do you think it is? Do you think your parents are up yet?”

You chuckled softly, nudging him playfully. “Probably not. They’d sleep in on Christmas morning if they could."

Max’s smile widened. “Well let’s not disturb them then and do our own breakfast,” he suggested with a conspiratorial glance. “And maybe make some breakfast for them so they like me more.”

“Max, they love you, you know that,” you said, feeling your cheeks heat slightly.

Calling Max your friend felt wrong, like a poorly matched puzzle piece that didn’t quite fit. In your heart, he was so much more, but the boundaries were intricate and tangled, built over years of friendship, laughter, and unspoken affection.

“My parents don’t usually agree to let a friend stay over at Christmas. You’re special.”

He tilted his head, his playful demeanor shifting to something more serious. “Really? That’s sweet of them. But honestly, I want to make a good impression. Christmas breakfast is a big deal, right? In a ‘you have to impress your parents’ kind of way?” He rolled his eyes in mock exaggeration.

You laughed, pushing your hair back from your face. “Okay, fine. What do you have in mind?”

Max hopped up from the edge of your bed, a spark of enthusiasm in his steps. “I can handle the pancakes if you get the eggs and bacon. And maybe we can sneak in some hot chocolate?”

“Sounds like a plan,” you agreed, reluctantly swinging your legs over the side of the bed. “But we have to be quiet. They’re definitely still asleep.”

“Shh, we have to be silent,” he declared dramatically, mimicking a ninja as he tiptoed toward the kitchen.

You followed him, amusement bubbling up inside you at his antics. Entering the kitchen, you were greeted by the familiar scent of pine from the Christmas tree, twinkling lights reflecting off the walls.

Max opened the fridge with exaggerated care, peering inside as if it were a treasure chest.

“Eggs and whatever this is,” he said, pulling out a carton that looked slightly dubious, but then again, you didn't remember buying much food lately.

You rolled your eyes. “That was from Thanksgiving. Let’s stick to the basics.”

Max pretended to ponder for a moment. “And let’s not poison your parents on Christmas morning.”

With a soft laugh, you got to work, gathering the ingredients for the breakfast spread. The soft sound of sizzling bacon filled the kitchen as you heated the skillet, and Max enthusiastically began mixing pancake batter in a bowl.

After some time, your kitchen transformed into a makeshift restaurant, with pancakes stacked high, bacon sizzling, and eggs brightening the countertop.

You’d managed to quiet the noise, but you couldn’t hold back your laughter at the two of you trying to balance plates on the way to the table.

“Okay, moment of truth,” Max said, placing plates down at two seats, making sure they were perfectly aligned. “How do we make this secretly magical?”

You raised your eyebrows, then added, “Hot chocolate on the side?”

“Genius!” he proclaimed, quickly pouring hot chocolate into two mugs adorned with marshmallows. “You’re not just a pretty face, you know.”

You rolled your eyes, but your heart fluttered at the compliment. “Flattery will get you everywhere, Max,” you replied playfully, unable to hide your smile.

Just as you both sat down to toast the moment, the sound of footsteps echoed from the hallway. You shot Max a frantic look, and he quickly grabbed a pancake, stuffing it in his mouth as if caught in the act.

“Surprise!” your mother exclaimed, walking into the kitchen, her eyes wide with delight. “What’s all this?”

You exchanged guilty glances, but Max, ever the charmer, grinned with a mouth full of pancake. “Just trying to make Christmas breakfast a real deal. Hope you’re hungry!”

“And great pancakes, if I may add,” you chimed in, feeling your heart race. “And bacon! Can’t forget about baked bacon.”

Your dad appeared beside your mother, his scruffy morning hair adding to his amusement. “Wow, you two really outdid yourselves!” He looked between you and Max, clearly impressed.

Feeling the heat rise in your cheeks, you glanced at Max, who was now smirking, clearly enjoying the attention.

“Well, maybe, by making breakfast, they’ll include me in the family from this point onward,” he said, his eyes dancing with mischief.

You chuckled, nudging him again. “You already are family, you know that right?”

Max locked eyes with you, and for a brief moment, the teasing banter faded into something more sincere. “Yeah, I guess,” he said softly, his smile less about jesting and more about truth.

Your parents settled at the table, and soon enough, the jovial atmosphere filled the room as laughter and shared stories surrounded you.

Even amidst the festive spirits, you and Max shared fleeting glances and quiet smiles, both unsure whether to acknowledge what lingered just beneath the surface.

As bacon sizzled and your parents marveled at the pancakes, you felt a warmth in your heart.

"So, as you know, we're hosting the Christmas party this year," she said, her voice bright and cheery despite the busy atmosphere. "It's going to be crowded before it’s 4 PM."

You looked across the table at Max, who was focused on his plate but seemed to be listening intently. "You don’t mind that, right?" you asked him, your heart racing slightly.

It wasn’t just your parents who would be attending; they had invited family friends, neighbors, and even some of your old schoolmates.

Max looked up, a friendly smile breaking across his face. "No, it’s fine! More the merrier," he replied, taking a big bite of pancake as if to emphasize his nonchalance.

After breakfast, your mother handed you and Max a box of decorations that had been stored away for the season. "Here! You two handle the living room. Make it festive!" she called, already disappearing into the next room.

You and Max exchanged glances, and you both laughed at the same time. "Looks like it’s just us," you said, a hint of excitement in your voice.

"Let’s make this place sparkle!" Max exclaimed, grinning as he opened the box to reveal an array of ornaments, garlands, and twinkling fairy lights.

As you began to decorate the room, you found yourself instinctively reaching for a shimmering silver garland. You draped it across the mantelpiece, wishing to give it a touch of elegance.

Meanwhile, Max was busy attempting to untangle a giant string of lights, a comical frown on his face.

"I'm telling you, these lights have a grudge against us," he said, huffing slightly as he pulled on the cords.

You laughed, shaking your head. "Need a hand, or are you determined to battle the lights alone?"

He raised an eyebrow, a playful challenge in his eyes. "I can handle this. Just you wait!"

He managed to get one long string untangled and triumphantly held it up. "See? Success!"

"You are the hero of light untangling!" you declared, clapping your hands dramatically.

As the afternoon wore on, you took a break to change into your dress. You’d chosen a deep green one that flowed elegantly around your knees. Standing in front of the mirror, you adjusted the neckline and twirled once to see the fabric swirl around you.

When you stepped out of your room, you spotted Max walking past with a box filled with more decorations. He froze, his gaze sweeping over you as if trying to gauge your outfit.

"Is it too much?" you asked shyly, suddenly feeling vulnerable under his watchful eye.

"No, it’s fine! You look beautiful, I promise," he assured you, his voice steady and sincere. That made your heart flutter a little.

“Thank you,” you said softly, a smile creeping onto your face.

Max cleared his throat, a slight blush creeping up his cheeks. "I mean it. You always look great."

As the clock approached 4 PM, guests began to arrive. The house filled with laughter and the sounds of holiday greetings. Your parents mingled with guests, ensuring everyone felt at home.

“Wow, look at this place,” Max said, his voice barely audible over the joyous chatter. He stood close beside you, his eyes wide as he took in the familiar surroundings that were brimming with memories.

“Yeah, it’s a little chaotic,” you admitted, your gaze drifting toward the swarm of guests. “But I wouldn’t have it any other way.”

Today, especially, you were thankful for Max's presence as anxiety began to creep in with each arrival. He didn’t know anyone else here, and his nervous energy mirrored yours, though he was determined to keep you company.

“Maybe we should find somewhere quieter?” he suggested, but just as you were about to agree, a voice rang out from the doorway.

“Hey, Y/N! Haven’t seen you in forever!” It was Blake—standing with a group of his friends, their smug expressions painted in the crackling light of holiday cheer.

Your heart sank. What was he doing here? Memories of the past flooded back—the bullying, the harsh teasing. You instinctively took a step back, bumping into Max, who looked worried.

“Should I get them out?” he whispered, concern creasing his brow.

“No... it’s okay,” you muttered, though your heart raced. There was a part of you that hoped this time would be different. Maybe Blake had changed.

“Blake!” you said, forcing a smile. “How has it been?”

“Good! Real good! Just finished finals, and I think I aced them all.” He leaned against the doorframe, an uninvited confidence radiating from him. “It’s kind of nice to see you. We should catch up sometime.”

His gaze roamed over you like an echo of the past, pulling at invisible threads that bound you to days long gone.

You could feel Max shift beside you. He subtly positioned his body protectively between you and Blake, his hand casually resting on your waist—something that felt both natural and reassuring.

The gesture worked to ground you, despite the tension that crackled in the air.

“Oh, um, thanks!” you replied, your voice shaky but steadying as you felt Max’s warmth. “I’ve been busy with college. Working a lot too. It’s—really challenging.”

Blake chuckled, his friends joining in the laughter. “You always did know how to balance things,” he said with a wink, his tone flirty. “I bet that’s why everyone is still buzzing about you. You’re always the one who had their life together.”

You forced another smile, but inside you felt uncomfortable under the weight of his gaze.

“I wouldn’t say that,” you replied, trying to redirect the conversation. “What about you? Are you still into basketball?”

“Of course! Can’t get enough of it.” He was enjoying the attention of your classmates who were gathered around—nothing but echoes of their bygone camaraderie. “I could show you some moves later if you want. I mean, I’m pretty good.”

“Maybe I’ll just stick to watching,” you said, with a weak laugh. Your gaze flickered to Max, who still remained a quiet presence at your side, his hand never faltering on your waist.

“Come on, it wouldn’t be the same without you,” Blake persisted, moving closer, his friends egging him on. “We can rekindle old times.”

Just then, Max tightened his grip around you as if to shield you from that unwanted history. “I think Y/N has plans,” he stated clearly. “Right?”

Your heart swelled at his assertion. “Yeah! Plans!” you echoed, grateful for his quick thinking. “We were actually just about to grab some food. Isn’t that right, Max?”

“Absolutely,” he nodded, his eyes locking onto yours with an earnestness that sent warmth through you. It was something you’d been craving since that encounter with Blake began to take an unsettling turn.

“Should I join?” Blake smirked, but your laughter came out more forced than you intended.

“No! I mean, we’re kind of... in a rush,” you insisted, pointing toward the dining room where the food was being served. “Right, Max?”

“Right,” he affirmed, his eyes that twinkled with an inner strength. “Let’s go grab some snacks, Y/N.”

With a half-hearted wave to Blake and his friends, you took Max’s hand, the warmth of his palm igniting an unexpected comfort. You navigated through the crowd, the noise fading into a dull roar behind you.

“Thank you,” you exhaled once you stepped into the quieter dining room, where twinkling fairy lights adorned the table and the table was laden with a spread of delicious food.

“I was worried I’d have to drown in that conversation.”

Max chuckled, his relief evident. “I’ve got your back. Always.”

The atmosphere in the dining room was lighter, filled with the cheerful sounds of your family laughing and sharing stories.

Under a garland of fresh greens and bright red ribbons, you felt enveloped by warmth and safety, especially with Max at your side.

“So tell me more traditions that you guys do on Christmas Day,” Max asked curiously, his bright blue eyes sparkling with excitement as he perched on the edge of the couch.

You could see the warmth of the festive spirit in him, a perfect addition to your family gathering.

You smiled, wiping away a few crumbs from your cookie-laden fingers. “Well, for us, we do Secret Santa where we pick someone’s name and get them something secretly before hiding it under the tree. Oh! And we especially do Christmas karaoke!"

You laughed, pointing at your dad and uncle belting out “Have Yourself a Merry Little Christmas” in exaggerated voices. They were utterly off-key, but it only added to the hilarity.

Max chuckled, the sound making your heart flutter. “I would pay to see that!” he exclaimed.

“Then there’s the mistletoe!” you said, gesturing towards the couple by the entrance who were caught under the hanging sprig of green. “If there are two people under it, they have to kiss.”

You opened your mouth to continue, but before the words could form, Max leaned in, his lips brushing softly against yours.

Time stood still. You were caught in that perfect moment until he pulled away, his cheeks turning a shade of pink that nearly matched the holiday décor.

“Uh, what just happened?” you stammered, glancing up only to find a bunch of mistletoe hanging right above you.

Max pointed up with a shy grin. “I figured I’d follow the traditions, you know?”

You couldn’t help the playful smirk that crept onto your lips. “Is that the only reason you kissed me?” You leaned slightly closer, your heart pounding in excitement.

Max's eyes widened as he shook his head. “No, um, not exactly,” he said, his voice a mix of confidence and vulnerability. “I really like you, Y/N.”

A giggle bubbled up from your throat before you could suppress it. “You’re so cute, Max,” you said, your voice light and teasing.

His face turned even redder, and your playful tone hung in the air between you like a promise. “Did I just get friendzoned?” he asked, half-joking but his eyes flickering with uncertainty.

You rolled your eyes with exaggerated dramatic flair. “Nope, I like you too, cutie.” The words flowed out more easily than you had anticipated, but they felt right, resonating with the whirlwind of emotion that had caught you both off guard.

Max's expression shifted, the nervousness giving way to relief and undeniable joy. “Really? You like me?”

“Of course! I mean, we get along so well, and you’re literally the sweetest person I know.”

He smiled wider, the hint of anxiety disappearing from his features, replaced by a twinkling delight. “Wow. Okay, good! So, uh, should we… I don’t know… try that kiss again? Just to really make sure it wasn’t a fluke?”

You laughed, the sound rich and warm like the cocoa in your cup. “Bad idea, Max. What if people see?” But even as you said the words, you felt a spark ignite, compelling you to step closer again.

“Who cares?” he said, his voice bold now. “It’s just mistletoe. And I think it’d be a better story if we kissed again than if we stood here talking about it.” His eyes danced with energy, a hint of mischief.

You couldn’t resist that challenge, not with the way he was looking at you—the spark in his eyes making it impossible to think clearly. “Okay, but if we do,” you said, taking a breath to calm your fluttering heart, “we have to do it right. No awkward pecks.”

“Deal,” he replied, the seriousness of the moment settling between you like a secret shared.

Max grabbed you by your waist and pulled you closer, his sudden boldness catching you off guard.

Surprised, a little noise escaped your lips — a mix of laughter and shock — and you could see the amusement dance across his face. “See? Not so bad, is it?”

You felt warmth flood your cheeks, a blend of excitement and anticipation, as well as the faintest hint of embarrassment. “You’re impossible,” you said, trying to regain your composure, though your heart raced wildly in your chest.

“You have no idea what you’re getting into,” he replied, a playful smirk forming on his lips. “But I’m more than willing to show you.”

“Bring it on,” you challenged, your heart racing with both fear and excitement.

And then, before you could second-guess yourself or back out, you tilted your head back slightly, and your lips met his.

The kiss was an explosion of warmth, as sweet and indulgent as the cocoa you had been sipping. It flickered to life like the crackling fire in the corner, igniting a warmth in your heart that surged straight through to your fingertips.

You melted into him, feeling the world around you fade—the hum of conversation, the clang of glasses, the scent of pine in the air, all of it dimming in the wake of this moment.

Max’s grip on your waist tightened, pulling you even closer. The kiss deepened, and you could feel the steadiness of him against the thrumming chaos of your own pulse. His lips moved against yours with a mix of softness and urgency that sent shivers down your spine.

After what felt like both a blink and a lifetime, you pulled back, breathless. “Wow,” you managed to say, your cheeks flushed as you looked into his eyes, which sparkled with a hint of triumph.

“Wow, indeed,” he echoed, his smile broad and boyish. “You see? Better than just talking about it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “You have no shame.”

“And you’re blushing again,” he pointed out, leaning against the back of the sofa, clearly relishing the moment. “What’s wrong with a little mistletoe magic?”

“Seems like a pretty convenient setup,” you teased, trying to regain your composure. “What if someone walks in?”

“Let them!” Max shrugged, his playful energy infectious. “I’m not ashamed of how I feel about you.” His gaze softened, and for a moment, the noise of the party faded into the background.

“Guess it’s too late to act cool now,” you said, glancing around the crowded room, where your parents were happily mingling with friends and relatives.

“Merry Christmas to me, looks like I got my present,” you added, winking at him.

“Think your parents will approve?” Max's eyes danced with mischief as he leaned closer again, just inches from your face.

“They’re going to be thrilled,” you replied, sarcasm lacing your voice. “My mom has been trying to play matchmaker for months. She’s probably already trying to convince my dad to change the seating arrangement for the rest of the night.”

Max chuckled, and suddenly, the surrounding noise blurred into a vague hum as you found yourself lost in his gaze.

“You know,” he said, “I never had any special tradition for the holidays while growing up. But after today, I think I’m ready to spend the rest of my days trying to learn your family’s traditions.”

You chuckled, nudging him playfully with your elbow. “Aww man, are you really trying to win my heart?”

“Is it working?” Max asked, his smile widening.

“Maybe,” you teased, brushing a stray hair behind your ear as you tried to suppress a grin.

“Good,” he said, leaning a little closer, the playful glint in his eyes replaced with something more genuine.

“Because I’ve decided I want to experience all the things that make your family special. Like this—” He gestured to your father, who was attempting to sing a holiday tune, completely off-key.

“Yeah, that’s a real highlight,” you replied, laughing.

“I’m serious,” Max said, the warmth of sincerity filling the space between you. “I want to be a part of it all—the cooking, the awkward games, the stories that are told every year. I want to learn why your mom insists on making seven different types of cookies, or why your uncle insists he can beat anyone at charades.”

Your heart swelled at his words. “You really mean that?”

“Absolutely,” he affirmed, taking a step closer, so your shoulders brushed against each other. “You’ve made this horrible week of relentless deadlines bearable just by being you. I can only imagine how wonderfully chaotic it must be at these parties. I want to be part of it.”

Surprised, you looked down at your feet, your cheeks burning. The twinkling lights around the room seemed to echo your racing heart.

“Well, you definitely picked the right night to make such a grand declaration. Keep your expectations realistic, though. My family is… a lot.”

“Bring it on,” he said, his enthusiasm contagious. “I’m ready. Besides, you’re worth it.”

As you sat there in the warmth of your parents’ home, wrapped in laughter, full of acceptance, you realized that this could be the start of something wonderful.

The sparkling lights twinkled with promise, and perhaps, just perhaps, this Christmas would be the first of many with Max by your side. . . . .

[courtofblooming]

my favorite elriel fics. 🦇♡

a long masterlist of my all time favorite elriel fanfictions on ao3, after being a fan of this couple for 4 years. all these fanfictions are special to me and i hope i can help other elriels that have been looking for recommendations. ✧・˚

— info: all completed fics. <3

!! ₊ ˚ ୨୧ ⋅ ̥ യ . 𖥔

“Golden Doe in a Valley of Shadow” by Violetasteracademic, canon compliant, elriel’s story after acosf, forbidden love, angst, fluff, smut, long fic. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54831724/chapters/138983473)

“A Court of Bones in Bloom” by ladyveravincent, canon compliant, elriel’s story after acosf, forbidden love, long fic, slow burn, eight court theory, angst, eventual smut. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/58554709/chapters/149179024)

“Pretty Little Angel” by DottieLovegood, canon compliant, elriel’s story after acosf with a twist, BDSM, azriel owns a club, smutty. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/30617429/chapters/75532637)

“Freshly Baked” by elainsroses, canon compliant, series with three oneshots in it, fluff and domestic, elriel are together and happy, baking, kisses and a pregnancy plot, pure fluff. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/series/2759089)

“Wildest Dreams” by tswaney17, canon compliant, established relationship, elain and azriel’s children, happy endings, pure fluff, elriel have a little family together, soft azriel. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55844830)

“Stargirl” by duskandcobalt, canon compliant, elain and azriel are spending some time together when elain has a vision, smut, sneaking around, secret relationship, stolen moments, kitchen sex. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/50867182/chapters/128505301)

“For A Taste Of You (I Will Do Anything)” by keeparecordofthewreckage, one shot, post acosf solstice, smut and smut and angst, set on starfall, did i mention smut? (https://archiveofourown.org/works/36913843)

“A Tapestry of Dreams and Reality” by ImaginativeInk, canon compliant, elain’s cauldron powers, elain and azriel find themselves in the mystical realm of dreams and their connection continues to unfold. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53269846)

“Be still, my foolish heart” by roselensedeyes, canon divergence, adoption, original characters (children), adopted children, elriel are mates, wedding + pregnancy, elain volunteers at an orphanage in velaris. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/50680402/chapters/128026141)

“Love Confessions, Meddling Brothers and Raspberry Tarts” by obisidian_witch, canon compliant, angst with a happy ending, secret relationship, secrets, chosen love, post acosf, elain learns the truth about what transpired on that dreadful solstice night, from both azriel and rhysand. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/57625048)

“Across the Hallway” by tswaney17, modern au, elain is a baker + azriel is a detective, small fic (5 chapters), elain has a cat! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/39325395/chapters/98412099 )

“Night of Wings and Roses” by ThatTrable, canon compliant, fluff and angst, post acosf solstice, feyre as the wingwomen. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43561515)

“all’s well that ends well (to end up with you)” by miss_belivet, canon compliant, set on acofas solstice, elriel are mates, the bond snaps in front of everyone, potatoes. ♡ (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40069968/chapters/100352508)

“To Dine Like Gods” by elainsroses, canon compliant, pure smut, body worship, azriel has found god between elain’s thighs. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56211508)

“Too Sweet (for me)” by slythrhys, canon compliant, forbidden love, pure smut, secret relationship, azriel can’t get elain out of his head. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55180729/chapters/139943131)

“Kneading Dough” by tswaney17, canon compliant, one shot, fluff and smut, in the kitchen, mostly smut + shadow play (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40041990)

“Crimson Clover” by miss_belivet, canon compliant, blood kink, azriel reacting to elain carrying out an extreme act of violence, protective elain, auntie elain, lain protects nyx, its bloody. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42530709/chapters/106825986)

“Bound in Ivy” by yourstarsmyscars, canon compliant, secret relationship, elain’s powers, forbidden love, smut, elain has a secret, azriel wants to find out. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46678417/chapters/117559789)

“The Bet” by DottieLovegood, modern au, pure smut, established relationship! (https://archiveofourown.org/works/34488118)

“I Do Bad Things with You” by tswaney17, modern au, long fic, mob boss azriel, doctor elain, angst and smut, ex lovers + slow burn. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/31926901/chapters/79064530)

“Woman Made of Flowers” by yourstarsmyscars, medieval au, enemies to lovers, azriel kidnaps elain, azriel and elain are from enemy kingdoms. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44467921/chapters/111848692)

“We Don’t Have To Dance” by Separatist_Apologist, canon compliant, post acosf solstice, set on hewn city, elain makes azriel quite literally beg on his knees, jealous azriel, elain taking her revenge after the solstice, smut. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/44899510)

“The Pointe of Love” by pinkrasberryfish, elriel + nessian centric, modern au, nesta and elain are prima ballerinas, they dance at the velaris ballet company. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43076520/chapters/108246912)

“Freefall” by yourstarsmyscars, one shot, canon compliant, elriel angst, pining, smutty ending, post solstice, yearning. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43696293/chapters/109975251#workskin)

“The First Solstice” by NikeTheStatue, one shot, canon compliant, re-imagining of the acofas solstice in azriel’s pov (headache power + gardening plans till 3am) (https://archiveofourown.org/works/43749949)

“Breathless” by miss_belivet, one shot, canon compliant, post acosf solstice, forbidden love, smut, sneaking around, elriel do the dishes after a family dinner. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46398019)

“Wrap Me in Your Skin and Bones” by citizenofvelaris, azriel and elain sequester themselves in the townhouse, mating bond frenzy, elriel are true mates, some peace and quiet. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53212210/chapters/134650879)

“Guilty As Sin?” by fawnandshadows, one shot, modern au, elain moves to a new apartment after her breakup and gets a hot firefighter as neighbor, azriel is a firefighter. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55702369)

“6/8” by Shulkitten, alternative universe - music, azriel plays the piano, one shot, vanilla elriel, smut and fluff, elain has a hand kink, azriels is elains piano teacher. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/40513584)

“Touch Me, Hold Me, Tell Me” by miss_belivet, canon compliant, post acosf solstice, azriel disobeys rhys orders, plot what plot?, forbidden love, secret relationship, azriel is feral, elain is his princess. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53566822)

“Under the Weeping Willow” by duskandcobalt, canon compliant, forbidden love, secret relationship, sneaking around, azriel and elain have their best time at the garden at night. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/53309260)

“I choose you and me, religiously” by slythrhys, canon compliant, one shot, forbidden love, secret relationship, sneaking around, fluff and smut, clandestine meetings, sweet & spicy. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55701385)

“The First Flight” by NikeTheStatue, canon compliant, one shot, set on acowar, azriel flies Elain from the house of wind to the townhouse. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56840626)

“Cruel Summer” by citizenofvelaris, canon compliant, forbidden romance, secret relationship, smut, elain finally finds some relief from the hot summer nights of Velaris. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/46476226/chapters/117022795)

“Gasoline” by yourstarsmyscars, modern au, one shot, smut, azriel is a biker, azriel agrees to teach elain to ride a motorcycle, it’s not the only thing she wants to ride. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42909471)

“crumbs” by Demarogue, canon compliant, established relationship, fluff and smut, baking, kitchen sex, elriel future, sometimes, learning how to bake is foreplay itself. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/42695196)

“Silver Linings & Raspberry Fortunes” by slythrhys, modern au, bartender au, fluff, flirting, azriel is a bartender and elain is in a blind date. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/55628383)

“Let Me” by obisidian_witch, canon compliant, established relationship, elain is in love, azriel is in love, fae cycles, pure fluff, it’s that time of the month for elain, lucky for her, azriels sole purpose in life is to care for her. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/58103275)

“The Housewarming” by hozierhys canon compliant, post acosf, fluff and smut, forbidden love, getting together, or five times Elain and Azriel almost kissed, and the one explosive time they did. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/54361855)

“Salted Cashews” by NikeTheStatue canon compliant, a fic inspired by the the “fated mates” quiz on sjm’s website, fluff, elain gets azriel. (https://archiveofourown.org/works/56795722)

!! ₊ ˚ ୨୧ ⋅ ̥ യ . 𖥔

the end.

[nabipumpum]

🍓̟!! Strawberry flavor ᴹⁱⁿʲⁱ ˣ ᶠ!ʳᵉᵃᵈᵉʳ

Pairing - Kim Minji x 6th member! reader {req}

Genre - fluff

Synopsis - Somehow you charmed Minji the moment you met, it wasn't in her plans to fall in love with your group member, but she did, maybe it's not so bad.

Warnings - 🚫

Word count - 1.821

Newjeans masterlist

When Minji met you, the first thing she thought was, “She smells like strawberries,” the second thing she thought was, “Shit, she’s so pretty,” that was almost enough for her to fall in love with you, but it was still too early to tell.

“Minji-unnie! Look!” you smiled with a cat plush in your arms, you proudly showed it to the girl “I got it for you, you said you liked it.” the girl smiled.

“Really? Thank you.” somehow, your smile got brighter, melting Minji’s heart “You didn’t have to.” she took the cat and watched it for a few seconds until you got closer and spoke softly.

“My mother always said that we don’t need reasons to give gifts to people we love.” Minji’s cheeks heated up.

The third thing Minji thought was: “Does she love me?”.

During a live stream, the six of you were sitting around talking to each other and answering some comments. You were as excited as ever. You and Danielle were nicknamed “Smileyz” by the bunnies, and today was no different. You two were the ones who interacted the most with the comments on that live stream. That’s something you never get tired of. Minji admires that about you.

“Minji looks pretty tonight.” You read a comment out loud, catching the girls’ attention.

“Oh, really?” The girl smiled shyly, not because of the comment, but because you were the one who said it.

“That’s a lie.” You frowned and the girls now looked at you confused, you smiled and looked at Minji, your fingers lightly running over her shoulder “Because Minji-unnie looks pretty every day, doesn’t she?” You heard the girls’ disapproving murmurs and Minji’s cheeks turning red and moving away from you and the camera’s frame.

“Oh God, she’s been doing this all night, ignore her guys.” Hanni said and you laughed.

“It’s not my fault she’s so pretty.”

The fourth thing Minji thought was: “Does she think I’m pretty?”

You smiled and waved to the airport cameras. Minji watched you with a small smile on her face that turned into a bigger smile when you turned to her. You approached her and linked your arm with hers.

“Are you happy?” you asked her, holding her tightly, as if she would run away from you at any moment.

“Very…” you noticed when she looked at your lips for a few seconds, this made you unconsciously get closer but then you moved away when you remembered the people and the cameras around.

“I think I’ll bake a strawberry cake when we get home, what do you think? Or maybe a pie.” You waited for the girl’s opinion.

“I think both options are good.”

“No, choose one!” You shook the girl slightly, she laughed, everyone noticed how she laughs more when she’s with you and it even seems like she’s a little high, you make her high.

“Okay, then… Pie.” You smiled.

“Good, that’s what I wanted.”

Minji loves how you always bake pies and cakes every week, those are her favorites.

You placed the freshly baked pie on the counter, your members leaving the room and going to the kitchen to see what you had made.

“This looks so good.” Danielle came closer and smelled it “It smells so good too.”

“Yes, Y/n-unnie, can we eat it?” Hyein pleaded and you laughed.

“It’s hot, at least let it cool down a little.” the girls protested and you pushed them back into the room “Get out! Get out! Come back when I call you.” but before Minji could go with them, you pulled her “Ahm… Can you help me with something?” you smiled, Hanni watched.

“Uh-huh, yes, help.” you pushed her and pulled Minji.

“What do you need?” she watched you bend down to open the cabinet.

“I… I just didn’t want the girls to see me giving it to you.” you picked up a small box “There’s not enough for everyone.” you opened it and handed some red balls to Minji “Gum.” you smiled and the girl did the same.

“I think there’s enough for everyone.” she observed the amount in your hand and in hers.

“Shut up and say thank you.”

“Thank you.” You smiled, Minji smiled.

The fifth thing Minji thought was: “She has the most beautiful smile in the world.”

You strode into the dorm with a large box in your hands. Minji and Haerin were the first to notice you, and Haerin was the first to ask.

“Unnie, why are you so happy?” you looked at the girl.

“There’s something cool in here.” you nodded at the box.

“Are you smuggling drugs?” Hanni asked and you kicked her in the shin.

“It’s something cool but not illegal.” you went to your room.

“Aren’t you even going to show us?” Dani shouted from the kitchen, they only heard you yell “No” before slamming the door.

“I’m sure it’s drugs.”

You placed the box on the floor and opened it quickly, coming across all the gifts you had bought for your friends. You smiled broadly as you took them all out of the box, but one in particular caught your attention.

It had become common for you to give Minji stuffed animals, but this time it was one similar to yours. In fact, the ad said it was for couples, but she didn't need to know that. You smiled and held it against your chest. You texted Minji to tell her to come to your room. In a few seconds, she was knocking on the door.

“Come in.” You watched the girl open the door and smiled, you patted the rug next to you, the girl closed the door before sitting next to you “Look, I bought it for you.”

“Just for me?” She smiled as you handed her the plush.

“I didn’t buy it just for you, but… This one is more…”

“Important? Am I your favorite?”

“Oh, shut up before I regret it.” She laughed, hearing her laugh, you felt butterflies in your stomach, this was becoming common for you “They’re a duo.” You showed her your plush “Like it was me and you, only in plush toys…” You looked down as if you regretted what you said “It’s stupid…”

���Hey, no, don’t say that.” She lifted your chin gently with her fingertips, making you look back at her “It’s cute, I like that about you.” You felt your cheeks burn, in a surge of courage, you approached. “Minji, I-“ you were cut off by the door opening and the two of you turning to look.

“Do you guys want barbecue?”

Sometimes it sucks to have a shared dorm.

You sat on the couch and covered yourself with the blanket, it was finally the weekend and you could finally watch the movie you wanted so much, before you selected, you saw a sleepy Minji coming out of the hallway and looking at you, you smiled at her.

“Did you lose sleep?” she agreed. “Sit here.” You patted the place next to you. The girl came over sleepily and threw herself on the couch. You covered her with your blanket and looked at the girl. “Do you want to watch a movie?” She agreed and you started the movie. It was a horror movie. In fact, you were thankful when Minji arrived because you wouldn’t have to watch the movie alone now.

Minji didn't say much and you assumed it was because she was sleepy, but the truth is that she had lost sleep after dreaming about you, this happened sometimes and she got used to it, but this time it was different.

In the dream she ended up having the courage to confess to you after a show, something that wasn't planned and that you definitely didn't expect because of how her eyes opened in shock and her jaw slowly dropped. This usually wasn't enough to make her wake up and lose sleep, what did was that you refused her, harshly and called her disgusting for thinking that way about you, so Minji continued to hear the word "disgusting" over and over again until she woke up, this was the reason she couldn't sleep anymore.

During the movie, she noticed how you got scared a few times and clutched the blanket in a failed way of calming yourself down.

Minji sneakily held your hand, still looking at the screen, so she didn't notice when you looked at her in surprise or how your cheeks turned pink from the warm touch of her palm on yours, you tried to pay attention to the movie after that, but you couldn't take your attention away from your intertwined hands or when she caressed your hand with her thumb and gave you goosebumps.

One of the things you thought about Minji was: “She would make a great girlfriend.”

Minji brushed her hair with her fingertips, her forehead sweaty and her breathing heavy from practice. You looked at her, the girls had gone out to get food since you had finally finished practice, you approached her and handed her a glass of water, receiving a quiet thank you.

“Do you like me, Minji-unnie?” the girl spat out the water that was in her mouth and looked at you with wide eyes.

“Huh?”

“Do you like me?” you stepped closer and tilted your head slightly to the side.

“I… Why do you-“

“Yes or no?”

“Y/n…”

“Answer me!” she sighed and looked down.

“Yes.”

“Really?” you stood in front of her “Unnie, look at me.” she slowly raised her head and you smiled “Do you really like me?”

“I do.” you hugged her tightly, making her take a step back before wrapping her arm around you.

“I like you too, unnie.” you pulled away just enough to look at her “So, what are we now?” Minji was still in shock, you found it cute.

“Girlfriends?” she said quietly, you smiled more and hugged her again, but pulled away afterwards.

“Can… Can I kiss you?” Now you were the one who was shy, the girl nodded and you approached, smiling before finally touching your lips, a kiss that you both had been waiting for for a long time, Minji felt goosebumps when she felt you caress the back of her neck with affection, you both tried to be delicate, especially her, kissing you as if you were a fragile doll, you separated and looked at her.

“We're here!” you both separated quickly when the door opened “We brought roast pork.” you ran to Dani and looked at the bag.

“Minji, are you okay? Why is the floor wet?”

The sixth thing Minji thought was: “Strawberry flavor.”

[giuliettagaltieri]

Pretty Little Thing

Pairing: Rafe Cameron x Lovesick!Reader

Chapter Synopsis: The Simp, the Queen, and the Tension in Between

Warning: Angst, swearing, one sided pining, shallow/light writing, you and Rafe are equally stupid in your own ways.

Word Count: 2834

4 of 4

Rafe wasn’t sure if what he said to you was right.

Because he is not enjoying whatever game you are playing at the moment.

A week after the incident, you came to the country club but not for him.  For the past hour, he can hear you just a few tables away, giggling with your friends.  All you did when you came in was say ‘hi’ to him and Kelce, he had to bite back a comment when you gave Topper a basket full of freshly baked cookies and brownies, which you told him to share because everybody helped in searching for you.

He can recall you saying that you’ll never bake for anybody but him.  Liar. 

Topper reluctantly set the basket down to a chair hidden from Rafe’s eyes as it was not helping his temper at all. 

When Rafe said to learn how to take care of yourself, he didn’t mean to subtract him from your life.  You’re overdoing it with the whole self-help journey you’re on.  Why couldn’t you just tell him about your day again instead of writing in some pink bedazzled journal you got for yourself? 

What’s bothering him is that you are doing just as he told you to do, so he can’t be angry about it at all.  You are just healing, or whatever shit your girlfriends call this thing you’re doing.

Your voice used to be grating on his ears, you always spoke so loudly and so close to him and if he would let you, you could go on and on.  But with your absence, he feels like the silence got to him more than your voice ever could.

With you choosing to hang out with people who are not him, he feels like everything he’s doing is wrong.  Like he’s putting ice in wine or putting on conditioner before shampooing his hair.  He’s fucking selfish and he knows it.  This is probably how you felt when he’s hanging out with Sofia, huh?  Probably even worse.

Rafe glances at you briefly and he does not like how you are smiling on your phone.  You look prettier, almost glowing.  It’s easy to miss when you’re always by his side, clinging on his arm, but now that you took a step back, he can actually look at you.  He misses having those doe eyes staring up at him, he misses having those doe eyes on him.

You’re not seriously happier when you’re not with him, are you?

“Golf?”  Kelce asks just to get Rafe to stop brooding over you.

Topper agrees in a split second, nodding at Kelce, silently thanking him for initiating.

Rafe had to go with them.  As much as he’d like to sit there and indirectly listen to you talk about starting a clothing line, he felt fucking pathetic.

Oh, how the tables have turned.

He kinda wished you’re just on some guy’s arms, at least he can physically do something about it.  But what is he gonna do now?  Punch your fucking sketchbooks and yoga mats? 

You look up as they pass your table, smiling brightly. 

“We’re playing golf.”  Rafe spoke over you, his eyes squinting at your new screensaver.  He never felt such rivalry before, especially with a feline.  “Wanna come?”

Ignoring the distasteful glare of your friends, he watches you weigh the pros and cons in your head before you shake your head.  “I’m still hanging out with my friends.  Next time?”

Rafe tongues his cheek as he nods.  He’s not yet used to hearing you turn down his invitations.

“Alright.”  He glances at your phone one last time.  Stupid cat.  “Next time.”

But ‘next time’ isn’t really happening.  You don’t come as often to the Country Club.  He is getting updates on your whereabouts through your fucking Instagram.  You used to update him about everything you do.  His phone rings at least twice in an hour.  Now, the only notification he gets is from your posts.  It was pathetic and he knew it.

The time you used to waste just listening to him and his friends talk was spent on you creating clothing for yourself.  He liked the smile on your face when you get to wear a new project you’ve been working on.  Even if it’s on his phone screen.

Another thing he came to hate was the comment section of your posts.  A good portion of your followers are men and they are not ashamed of showing their admiration for you.  Rafe would crinkle his nose upon reading the strange comments, not understanding them.  You ate and left no crumbs?  You slay?  Did you kill someone?  Well, if you need help with a body, he can give you a hand.

The Country Club swimming pool wasn't exactly crowded when he and the boys decided to take a swim, just an occasional splashing and laughter from a family or two who decided to enjoy the pool, but despite the relaxing atmosphere, he can’t enjoy it one bit.  You’d be lathering thick layers of sunscreen on his face by now if you were there with him.

Topper and Kelce are off getting drinks, leaving Rafe alone to lean on the recliner.

Rafe feels like shit.  He feels like he’s just been demoted from the coolest job.

He bites back a groan when a tanning reflector sends a harsh ray directly on his eyes.

A hand steadies his face and Rafe’s vision turns multiple shades darker.  He blinks up and sees you looking at him unimpressed.

“Y/N.”  He sits up to look at you, adjusting the sunglasses you slipped on him.  His eyes squinted to look at your face.

“Rafe.”  You respond as you sit on the recliner beside him. 

His hand ran over his mouth.  Shit he had no idea you’d be coming too.  He didn’t bother to shave, and he didn’t miss how your eyes linger on his stubble. 

He has to divert your attention somehow.  He hasn’t been taking care of himself as well as before and he didn’t want to give you more reason to lose interest.  Rafe glances at the jewelry resting on your bosom.  “Still wearing my name around your neck?”  God, that sounded rude!  His eye twitches at his own stupidity but continues to observe you from under his shades before smirking, just to take control of the situation.

You pinch the jewelry.  “Does it look bad?”  You gather your hair on one side and reach for the lock, cursing when you keep missing it.

“What are you…What are you doing?”  He lowers the sunglasses to rest on the bridge of his nose so he can look at you better.

“I’m taking it off.”

Rafe pulls your arm down a little too harshly, startling you.  “Sorry.”  He laughs like the asshole he is.  “Don’t take it off.”

You blow your hair out of the way as you look at the water, gently pulling your arm from his hold.

“Want me to put sunscreen on you?”  Rafe reaches for your bag but you pull it away from his reach.  “Come on, I can rub your back just how you like.”

He expected a giddy smile but you gave him an uncomfortable look.  “No uhm…I’m okay.  I’m here to meet a friend, not to tan.”  And not for him.

“What friend are we talking about?”  He asks casually, now reaching for his beer.  Topper and Kelce sure are taking their time, good.

“A classmate in fashion school.  He’s visiting.”

“A guy.”  He says, stupidly.

You give him one of those looks that tell him he just said something unintelligent.

“Yes, Rafe.  A guy.”

The laugh he gave has a dangerous lilt to it.  His lips were smiling but his eyes were hard on you.  “You’re meeting a guy while you’re dressed like that?”

It’s one of those days when he’s being completely unreasonable.  You massage your brows to ward off an oncoming headache. 

“I don’t like it.”  He tells you, a smile still on his face.

You roll your eyes at him.  “Like that changes anything.”  You’re in a pool, what were you supposed to wear?  Fucking pyjamas? 

Rafe pulls your recliner harshly until his knee is slotted between your thighs and you shift away to keep his knee from brushing on your skin.

“I’ve been an ass to you, I know that, alright?”  Rafe admits and he clutches your arm in a secure hold when you attempt to pull away.  He quickly lets go when your glare shifts to his hands.  “But you gotta stop like you fucking own me.”

“Ugh, me again.”  You fume, brows frowning deeply.  That’s exactly what you’ve been doing already and what he’s been saying earlier is fucking ironic to that statement.

“I didn’t do anything wrong.”  He laughs, throwing his hands up in surrender like that would make him appear innocent.

“Yes you did!  In the Country Club when that server spilled a drink all over you.  You said a lot of awful things to me.”  You argue.

“Come on, sweetheart.  You deserved an earful after that behavior.”  He looks at you condescendingly.

Your chest tightens as a building heat rises to your head, the annoyance makes your body itch and your fingers curl to a fist.  You can’t believe he’s still saying that after everything.  “Are you really taking her side?”  You hiccup as your eyes begin to water, you quickly bite down any sob that threatens to spill out.

Rafe had to do a double take to realize he has made you cry.

“I’m not, I’m not!”  He glances around him to find something to help you with.  He reaches for the shirt he took off before lounging and dabs your cheeks with it.  “I fucking hate it when you cry.”

This only made you cry harder, pushing his hand away but taking his shirt to bury your face into.

“Shit…uhm.  Alright, I’m sorry I was being mean.”  He taps your shoulder.  “Stop crying, goddammit.”

You lean your forehead on his chest and he stiffly wraps his arms around you.

“Is it because she’s so much prettier?”  Your sobs are muffled.  “She will never love you like I do.”  You cling on Rafe, making him press his lips in a thin line.  “Why do you like her but hate me so much, Rafe?”  You look at him with your lips bloated from when you were trying to hold back your tears. 

“Sweetheart, I don’t hate you.”  Rafe chuckles as he places a hand on your back to rub it.  “You just need to respect my boundaries sometimes.”

You calm down as you listen to him talk and he runs over his thumb over your clumped up lashes. 

“So pretty.”  He whispers and he pinches your cheek.  “You need to understand that there are things that I have to enjoy on my own.”

“You don’t like it when I k-keep you company?”  You frown at him and he chuckles while tucking your hair behind your ear.

“I do.  I enjoy your company more than anyone else’s.  But you can’t lash out like the way you did in the Country Club.”

You huff.  “She was touching you.”

Rafe frowns.  “Once.  You touch me like that all the time.”  He brings your hands to rest on his pecs for emphasis but you easily slip your hands from his.

“You like her.”  You say barely above a whisper, eyes downcast.  “I saw you at the party.”

“She’s pretty.”  He bites back a laugh when your cheeks bubble in annoyance.  “And I was stupid.”  He says with a smile and you nod your head in approval.

“You were flirting.”  You point out as you play with the drawstring of his short just to keep your hands busy.

“We were.”  Rafe says.  “And I regret it everyday.  You got hit on because I was entertaining her.  You got in trouble because of me.”

“And you hurt my feelings.”  You add.

“And I hurt your feelings.”  Rafe echoes.

You let go of the drawstring to sit up straighter.  “Why did you do it?”

Rafe shakes his head.  “I don’t know.”  He raises a hand to stop a retort from you.  “I wish I could tell you why but I really don’t know and I’m sorry.  It was just something new, a change of pace and I kinda went with it.”

He presses his lips together as he watches your eyes blank out.  Shoulders slumping as you get farther and farther away.  He gently reaches for you, hooking his hands under your knees to pull you in and you don’t have it in you to resist.

“She’s also not as annoying as you.  Not as clingy.  Not as loud.”  Rafe pulls you closer every time he adds something to the list, your lips are wobbling now.  “But in the end it was for those reasons why I realized I couldn’t be with her.”

You look at him from under your lashes and he smiles at you, it wasn’t condescending nor did it hold malice, it was just a smile and the gaze he held with you so intimate.

“I was missing you like crazy.”  He whispers like a boy telling his mother about a secret crush.  “I thought I was going crazy when I started hearing your voice or my phone ringing.”

Gently, you return his smile.  “You missed me?”  It was all you heard.

He clicks his tongue playfully.  “I just said I did.”

“So we can go back to being best friends again?”

Rafe winces and you tilt your head to the side. 

“What?”  You ask.

“I was hoping for something more but I’ll take it, I guess.”

You chuckle at his antics, a brow raising.  “Did you want to be my boyfriend?” 

He rolls his eyes.  “You think I’d be having this conversation with you if I didn’t?”

“The audacity.”  You gasp teasingly.  “After everything you’ve done to me?”

Rafe groans and buries his nose on your hair.  “I already apologized.”  It’s kinda hot when you call him out on his bullshit.

You rub your chin.  “I don’t know, maybe you think I’m just another pretty girl.”

“Well, you are a pretty girl.”  Rafe scoops you up so you’re seated on his lap and you rest your arms on his shoulders.

“Are you just tricking me so you can get in my pants?”  You nuzzle your nose with his and he rests his hands on the globes of your ass.

“You’re not wearing pants.”  He grins, making you groan in defeat.

“You know what I mean.”  You whine as you run your fingers on his nape, pulling at the short strands of his hair.

Rafe nods, eyes nearly rolling back at the sensation of your delicate fingers.  “Baby, I don’t need tricks to get in your pants.  You like me way too much.”  This earns him a slap on his chest.

Shyly, you just look at him and he raises a perfect brow in question, his lips quirking up boyishly.  

“You really like me?”  You mumble.

He chuckles and pecks your lips.  “Go a little beyond that.”

“Beyond?”  You ask dumbly and breathlessly.

“I think I love you, baby.”  He grins and you smile brightly after hearing him confirm it.  To his dismay, you get off his lap and you stretch, leaving him confused…and a bit frustrated.

“Ugh, finally.  I was starting to think we’ll be having a no comfort angst instead of a slowburn multi-chaptered fic.”

“Slowburn fic…what?”  He’s completely lost.

You shake your head, bending down to plant a chaste kiss on his lips.  “I love you too, Rafe.”

He cannot fathom just how you manage to baffle him every time.  So predictable yet erratic.  It’s keeping him on his toes.

“And you can’t be my boyfriend just yet.”

“What!”

You giggle at him from your shoulders.  “Come on, you gotta do better than just confess, romance me a little, okay?”

He can’t fucking believe this.

But Rafe Cameron accepts the challenge.

“Oh, my classmate’s here.”  You say excitedly when you open your phone.

“Wear my shirt.  I can’t have you meeting other men dressed up like that.”  He eyes your swimsuit in distaste.

“I designed this, asshole.”

“Oh, no wonder it looks really nice on you.”

You look at him blankly and he smiles like a puppy waiting for a treat.  “I’m not wearing your shirt.”

“You’re not wearing it?”  He asks.

“No.”

“Fine.”  He nods while sipping his beer again.  “I’ll just break his nose when he looks at you for too long.”

“OH MY GOD, RAFE!”

He smiles as he watches you stomp around in anger.  You’re muttering about how insufferable he is, how unreasonable, but he can’t get mad at your insults, not when amusement and affection bubbles on his chest, making him feel like a schoolboy.

“You know you’re my girl, right?”

You immediately stop pacing, anger melting off of you, lips turning to a pout as your eyes get glassy.

“Oh my God, Rafe.”

Lovesick Little Thing

[lilsmv1]

orange cat - OP81

Pairing: Oscar Piastri x reader

Summary: What happens your neighbour's adorable orange cat starts to pay you daily visits?

Word count: 1k

London welcomed me with its perpetually gray skies and damp weather, a stark contrast to the sunny shores of California I had left behind. As I settled into my new apartment, I couldn't help but feel a pang of homesickness for the warmth of home.

For the first few weeks, I hardly saw my neighbours, lost in the shuffle of unpacking and adjusting to my new surroundings. But one persistent visitor soon made himself known – a vibrant orange cat that would perch itself on my windowsill, peering into my living room with curious eyes.

At first, I found it amusing, but as the days went by and the cat became a regular fixture, I grew concerned. Surely, someone must be missing their furry friend. So, I decided to take matters into my own hands.

I scribbled a quick note on a yellow post-it, explaining the situation and tucking it under my neighbor's door. "Your cat seems to be visiting me often," I wrote. "Just wanted to let you know in case you're worried."

Days passed, and I received no response. I wondered if my neighbor had even seen the note or if they simply didn't care about their wandering pet.

But then, one evening, there was a soft knock on my door.

Opening the door, I found myself face to face with a handsome young man, his expression sheepish yet friendly. He held a small box in his hands, the smell of freshly baked pastries wafting from within.

"Hey, sorry to bother you," he began, his accent unmistakably Australian. "I'm Oscar, your neighbor from next door. I just wanted to apologize for my cat bothering you. And, well, to say thank you for looking out for him."

I couldn't help but smile at his genuine demeanor. "No problem at all, your cat is lovely, I was simply worried you might wonder where he was" I replied, accepting the box of pastries. "I'm glad to finally meet you, Oscar" I replied, introducing myself as well.

"Do you maybe wanna come in? I can make us some tea or coffee and we could eat the pastries you brought?" I added.

"I would love that!" replied Oscar with a warm smile.

From that moment on, Oscar and I struck up an unexpected friendship. We bonded over our shared love for his cat and baked goods, finding comfort in each other in the big city of London, so far from our respective homes. Oscar told me all about his work as a Formula One driver, and I could not help but be in awe of how passionate he was. I, on the other end, told him about the teaching opportunity that got me to move here, and I would often tell him cute stories from my classroom.

As weeks turned into months, our friendship deepened. Oscar proved to be not only a generous neighbor but also a reliable friend. Whether it was helping me fix a leaky faucet or lending a hand with heavy groceries, he was always there when I needed him.

Our weekly movie nights, whenever Oscar wasn't out of the country, became a cherished tradition, a welcome break from our everyday lives. We'd take turns picking films, debating over classics and hidden gems late into the night.

But amidst the laughter and camaraderie, I couldn't ignore the growing feeling in my chest whenever I saw Oscar. He was kind, funny, and undeniably attractive – qualities that drew me in despite my best efforts to keep my distance.

One day, as I scrolled through Twitter during a lazy afternoon, I stumbled upon something that caught me off guard. Pictures of Oscar, smiling brightly alongside a beautiful girl with long blonde hair.

A pang of jealousy shot through me, surprising in its intensity. I realised then, with startling clarity, that my feelings for Oscar ran deeper than I had initially thought. But it was too late – I was now pretty sure he was already taken, and I had no right to interfere.

Unable to shake off my newfound jealousy, I began to distance myself from Oscar, avoiding our usual interactions and retreating into solitude. But my sudden coldness did not go unnoticed.

One evening, there was a sharp knock on my door, and when I opened it, there stood Oscar, his expression a mixture of frustration and concern.

"What's going on with you?" he demanded, his voice tinged with hurt. "You've been acting strange lately, and I want to know why."

"I'm not" I replied defensively.

"Come on, don't give me that bullshit" replied a rather angry Oscar. "You've been avoiding me. Have I done something?" he asked, his voice laced with vulnerability.

I hesitated, the weight of my emotions heavy in the air between us. But then, with a surge of courage, I found myself blurting out the truth.

"I... I think I'm in love with you, Oscar," I confessed, my voice barely above a whisper. "And seeing you with someone else... it hurts more than I thought it would."

For a moment, there was silence, the tension palpable. But then, to my surprise, Oscar stepped forward, his eyes burning with intensity.

"God, you can be so dense sometimes" he breathed

"Hum, excuse me?" I replied, clearly offended.

"The girl you're talking about, that's my new PR manager."

"Oh..."

"I thought I was being fairly obvious as to how I feel about you." he said softly, reaching out to cup my face in his hands.

And with that, he closed the distance between us, his lips meeting mine in a heated and passionate kiss, leaving me breathless.

[schlattslambo]

Not sure if you’re doing only smut, or a mix of fluff and smut, but maybe a fic where schlatt and reader have soft and sweet sex? Like maybe the reader is stressed about everything happening in their life and schlatt offers some comfort, which leads into soft sex. K thanks 🙏

a/n: ok i may have gone a bit overboard with this one oopsie, but i really hope you like it!!

—————————-

The house is quiet. For the most part. Your boyfriend isn’t yelling at his computer - mainly because he’s out of the house running some errands, the TV is off, and the cats aren’t chasing each other around the house and breaking things. The only sounds are a record player playing classical music in the sitting room and your breathing. It’s a beautiful fall afternoon, and you had just finished baking some cookies. It should be a relaxing day, but it isn’t. Despite the semi-quiet house, you can’t stop your racing thoughts.

You have so much that you could be doing, but you aren’t even sure where to start. You have projects that you need to finish, a few work emails to send, and you’re in charge of planning a trip abroad with some friends. All of this plus juggling your secret relationship. Schlatt is a very caring person, despite the persona that he displays online. He notices every slight change in your mood and can pick up on things that you don’t even pick up on yourself. And you don’t really care that your relationship is secret; it’s for the best.

But that does little to stop those thoughts. Things that you can be doing better, things that aren’t finished but need to be reworked. All of these things that need your attention. So, you decide to grab your laptop from upstairs and do some work in the sitting room. You curl up on the chair with a mug of your favorite tea and get to work. Your fingers are like a blur as you type on the keyboard, so engrossed in your work that you don’t even hear the door open.

“Honey, I’m home!” Schlatt calls, just as he always does when he comes home to you.

When you don’t answer right away, he figures that you’re in the bathroom or something. He calls your name, but still no answer. Okay, he thinks, no big deal, you probably have your headphones in. Then he spots the freshly baked cookies that are cooling on the counter. Shoving one in his mouth, he continues his search for you.

When he finds you, you’re hunched over your computer, eyes darting across the screen. Your work emails have been sent and the projects are at a point where they can be put on hold for the evening. Now, you’re stressing about hotel deals in the Netherlands. You’d already sent along a quote to your friends for the hotel in Dublin, so you just had to find three other hotels after the one in the Netherlands. You scribble down some information before a large hand is on your shoulder. You jump, but relax when you notice Schlatt standing there.

“What’re you doing, toots?” He asks, chewing on another cookie. “Great cookies by the way.”

“I’m trying to figure out what hotel to stay at when me and the girls go to Europe.” You grumble, tapping away at the keyboard. “I still have to find three more hotels after I get a quote from this one.”

Schlatt looks down at you with a smile. You’re always working so hard, and he loves that about you. One of his favorite things is your work ethic. You always manage to continue working no matter what happens. It also happens to be one of your biggest faults.

“Baby, you really need to listen to your own advice.” Schlatt says, running a hand through your hair. “What do you always say to me?”

“That you’re an idiot?” You ask, looking up with a smile.

Schlatt acts offended, placing a hand over his heart. “No,” He gasps. “Well, yes, but that’s not the point I’m trying to make! You always tell me to pace myself when I work. And it doesn’t look like you’re doing much of that.”

“I don’t have time to pace myself.” You counter. “We leave in six months. I have to get these hotels booked or else we’re going to spend a fortune.”

You turn back to your computer and Schlatt sighs softly. Looks like he’s going to have to do this the hard way.

“C’mon, (y/n),” He says, putting his hands on his hips. “Save your progress.”

He rarely uses your first name, but when he does, you know he’s serious about something. You quickly bookmark the page and close the laptop, peering up at him. Without a word, he scoops you up princess style.

“Hey!” You yelp. “Where are you taking me?”

Schlatt says nothing but walks you to his room. He softly kicks the door closed behind him and plops you on the bed. You look at him and cross your arms on your chest.

“Jay, I really-” Your cut off by his soft lips pressing against yours.

“Honeybun,” He says, using one of your favorite nicknames. “Let me help you relax, m’kay?”

His kisses trail down the side of your neck and all of your thoughts melt into a puddle that now pools in your belly and starts to warm. You nod against him but he pulls back.

“Words, baby.” He says sweetly.

“Yes, please.” You whisper.

“Such good manners.” Schlatt replies, attaching his lips to your collarbone while toying with the hem of your shirt. “Let’s get this off, hm?”

The two of you slip your shirt off together and Schlatt continues kissing you, pressing his lips further down to your chest. He pushes your bra down, then takes a nipple into his mouth. You shudder at the contact, goosebumps blossoming on your skin.

“Lay down, my love.” He whispers against your skin. “Let me take care of you.”

Without a word, you comply. You slip your bra off yourself as Schlatt kisses down your torso and to your waist.

“May I?” He asks, hooking his thumbs into your belt loops.

At your nod, your pants slowly come down, warm kisses pressed to your hips and thighs. His touch is so gentle and sweet that you think you may cry. When your pants come off, Schlatt looks up at you with a smile.

“God,” He breathes. “You’re the most beautiful thing in the entire world. How the fuck did I get so lucky?”

Schlatt expresses his gratitude for you ‘choosing to love him’ all the time, but somehow, this feels different. More intimate. His lips press against your inner thigh, making you let out a soft gasp. He slowly slips off your panties, licking his lips. Once they’re off, he gently spreads your legs, his thick fingers exploring your folds.

“My pretty girl’s all wet,” He smiles, sliding a finger inside of you.

You mewl, arching your back. His thumb finds your clit and rubs slowly, and he watches you with a lovesick smile on his face. His cock grows harder at the sounds your making and how your pussy clenches on his finger every time he presses just a bit more on your clit.

“Can I fuck you, baby?” Schlatt’s voice comes out strained as you look at him.

You nod and his cock twitches in his pants. No matter how many times he gets to fuck you, his cock always twitches at the idea. You’ve been dating for around a year and a half, and he gets giddy inside whenever he gets to be this close to you.

“How do you want me?” You ask.

“Missionary.” Schlatt says with a smile. “I want to watch your beautiful face.”

You adjust on the bed as Schlatt finds a condom, resting your head on the many pillows that litter his bed. Just like Jambo has his little feather collection under the couch, Schlatt has a pillow collection on his bed.

He climbs up, smiling at you with such love that your heart does a little flutter. Kisses are pressed up against your ankle, all the way up to your face. Schlatt presses his cock against your entrance, pausing to intertwine your fingers together as his forehead rests against yours.

“I love you so much.” He whispers, slowly entering you. “My beautiful, beautiful baby.”

“I love you too.” You gasp.

His movements are vastly different from when you two usually have sex. He’s usually sporadic and quick with sloppy thrusts and a grip that bruises. This time, he’s holding you so gently that he’s scared he might break you. His thrusts are slow, but have just enough force to them to make your eyes roll back. As Schlatt’s lips attach to your neck again, you let out a moan.

“That’s it,” He praises against you. “Let it out for me. You’re taking me so well, babydoll.”

Schlatt pulls back to look at you, and your eyes meet his. The way you look up at him makes him nearly burst. He continues to go slow, but his orgasm is approaching rapidly. He never cums first, so he needs to stop.

“Don’t look at me like that, baby.” He breathes with a smile. “You’re gonna make me finish too quick. This is about you tonight.”

You smile and sink your teeth into your bottom lip. Schlatt lets go of your hands and reaches down to rub your clit. This allows you to pull him closer and kiss him. The kiss is passionate, slow and intimate. It’s intensified by the shocks of pleasure coming from your clit. Schlatt adds more pressure, making you break the kiss.

“F-Fuck,” You whimper. “I’m close.”

“Yeah?” Schlatt asks with a smile. “You wanna cum for me?”

You nod and moan, looking up at him with those pretty eyes. He rubs your clit in circles and uses the other hand to gently caress your chest. The small action sends you over the edge. You grip Schlatt by the back of the neck and pull him down, your moans muffled by another kiss. He thrusts as you cum, chasing his own orgasm. Only a few thrusts later, he’s cumming as well, groaning into your mouth.

As Schlatt comes down from his high, you look at him with half-lidded eyes and a soft smile. He quickly disposes of the condom and cleans himself up, coming back to bed and scooping you into his arms.

“You’ve been working so hard lately.” He says as he runs a hand through your hair. “I’m so, so proud of you. You make me and the boys so happy. I love you so much.”

You smile and lean into his touch. “Thank you,” You whisper. “I really needed this.

Schlatt presses a kiss to your forehead and snuggles you until the two of you drift off to sleep. You don’t mean to take a nap in the middle of the day, but you also didn’t expect to make love at 3pm either. But as you drift off to sleep in Schlatt’s arms, those racing thoughts are gone. The only thoughts that remain are how lucky you feel to have someone so thoughtful in your life.

[aspenmissing]

OMG. Arcane with an S/O with a cat that disapproves of them. Bring the chaos! 🤣

ʜɪꜱꜱ ᴏꜰ ʀᴇᴊᴇᴄᴛɪᴏɴ

ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴠɪᴋ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx || ꜰʟᴜꜰꜰ

8520 ᴡᴏʀᴅꜱ || ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢꜱ: ɴᴏɴᴇ

ʀᴇQᴜᴇꜱᴛ ᴀɴꜱᴡᴇʀ: ɪ ꜰᴜʟʟʏ ᴇɴᴊᴏʏᴇᴅ ᴅᴏɪɴɢ ᴛʜɪꜱ ᴏɴᴇ! ᴀɴᴅ Qᴜɪᴛᴇ ᴀ ꜰᴜɴɴʏ ᴄᴏɴᴄᴇᴘᴛ. ᴄʜᴀᴏꜱ ʜᴀꜱ ʙᴇᴇɴ ᴀꜱꜱᴜʀᴇᴅ ʙʏ ᴅᴇᴀʀ ᴀɴᴏɴ!

ʀᴇᴀᴅᴇʀ | ᴊᴀʏᴄᴇ | ᴠɪᴋᴛᴏʀ | ᴠᴀɴᴅᴇʀ | ꜱɪʟᴄᴏ | ᴊɪɴx

JAYCE

It was a typical evening in Y/N’s home, the crackling fire casting warm, flickering shadows across the stone walls. The room smelled of freshly baked bread and the earthy aroma of herbs, mixing perfectly with the subtle hum of Piltover in the distance. Jayce had come over to spend time with Y/N, but as always, there was one little problem—her cat.

From the moment Jayce stepped through the door, the feline was already positioned in its usual spot, high up on the bookshelf, perched like some regal observer. Its yellow eyes narrowed in disdain, watching Jayce’s every move with an air of quiet judgment. Jayce paused, frowning as he looked up at the cat, who refused to look away, her gaze sharp and unwavering.

“Your cat doesn’t like me,” Jayce muttered, sighing in resignation as he leaned against the doorframe, arms crossed.

Y/N looked over at her cat with a smirk, then back to Jayce, her eyes dancing with amusement. “It’s not that,” she replied, casually pouring herself a drink. “She’s just… picky.”

“Picky? She’s staring at me like I’m some kind of intruder. What do you mean by picky?” Jayce said, raising an eyebrow.

“She’s observing,” Y/N said with a mischievous smile. “You’ve got to earn her trust.”

Jayce scoffed. “Observing? She’s watching me like she’s about to strike.”

The cat flicked its tail lazily, clearly unbothered by the conversation. Its gaze didn’t waver, even for a second, and it seemed to silently question Jayce’s very existence. Y/N chuckled at the scene. “She’s very thorough.”

=

Later that night, as Jayce was settling in to stay over at Y/N’s house, the cat’s territorial behaviour continued. Jayce changed into his nightwear, and when he came out of the bathroom, the cat was already there, on the bed, like it had been waiting for this moment. There was no hesitation in its movements, no tentative pawing at the sheets. The cat just hopped up, claimed the spot next to Y/N, and sprawled across the bed in a show of dominance, staring at Jayce with those penetrating eyes.

Jayce climbed into bed beside Y/N, pulling the covers over himself. “She’s really not even trying to hide it now, is she?” he grumbled, eyeing the cat, who was already lying with her back to him, her tail flicking slowly, almost as if she were waiting for him to make a mistake.

Y/N laughed softly, propping herself up on an elbow and glancing at the cat, whose posture was practically regal. “You’re not wrong. She’s just… warming up to you.”

“Warming up?” Jayce gave a dramatic sigh, rolling onto his side. “She’s staring at me like I’m about to make a run for it. I’m pretty sure she’s planning my demise while I sleep.”

Y/N laughed, brushing the cat’s fur as it lay between them, her fingers scratching behind its ears. The cat’s half-lidded eyes closed for a moment, seemingly content, but it still didn’t soften its gaze towards Jayce. It was clear who ruled this bed.

As soon as Jayce shifted in bed, the feline’s eyes snapped open, tail flicking again with a precision that made Jayce feel like he was under some kind of scrutiny he couldn’t escape. He tried to adjust the blanket, only for the cat’s gaze to follow his every movement like a hawk stalking its prey.

A few moments later, Jayce attempted to hold Y/N’s hand as they both lay in bed, hoping for some quiet intimacy. But before he could even settle into the gesture, the cat immediately rose up, stretched lazily, and positioned itself directly between their hands, its cold eyes now fixed on Jayce, daring him to try.

“Really?” Jayce muttered under his breath, looking down at the cat, which now had both of its paws tucked neatly under its chest, as if to say Not on my watch.

Y/N just laughed at the absurdity of it all, brushing her hand through the cat’s fur with a fond smile. “She’s very protective,” Y/N said, as the cat mewed softly but didn’t move an inch. “Just accept that she’s not going to give you easy access to me.”

Jayce, feeling utterly defeated, leaned back against the pillow, giving the cat one last, dramatic look. “She’s like a little bouncer at the door to my heart. I’m never going to get past this.”

“She’s just making sure you’re good enough,” Y/N teased. “It’s her way of saying she cares.”

Jayce rolled his eyes but couldn’t suppress a smile. “One day, I’ll win her over. You’ll see. It might take a while, but I’ll get there.”

Y/N smiled softly, a mix of amusement and affection in her eyes. “I’m sure you will. But don’t be surprised if it takes longer than you expect. She’s a tough nut to crack.”

As the night stretched on, the cat remained unyielding in its position between them, still glaring at Jayce whenever he shifted too much. Eventually, the rhythmic flicking of its tail as it lay against Y/N’s side began to lull Jayce to sleep, but not before he muttered quietly to himself:

“Just you wait, kitty. I’ll win you over yet.”

The cat, of course, didn’t respond, too busy with its important task of watching over the bed like a sentry. Its tail flicked one more time before it settled, and its eyes closed slowly, as if to say This is my domain, and you’re lucky to be here.

And as Y/N drifted off to sleep, she couldn't help but smile at the absurdity of it all. It might take some time, but maybe, just maybe, Jayce and her cat would learn to get along.

VIKTOR

Viktor stood in the lab, his cane lightly tapping the floor as he adjusted a delicate hextech device. The quiet hum of the machinery was a welcome sound, until the soft padding of paws interrupted his concentration. Viktor glanced up, his expression softening, as Y/N’s cat—an irritable grey tabby with eyes like molten gold—sauntered into the room with a slow, deliberate pace. There was no mistaking the cat's intentions: she was here to remind Viktor who truly ran the show.

"Ah, there you are," Viktor said, a small, amused smile tugging at his lips. "Y/N mentioned you'd be visiting. Always a pleasure."

The tabby paused in the doorway and shot him the kind of flat, unblinking stare that could only be described as judgement in its purest form. Viktor straightened, feeling the weight of her gaze.

"Careful, Viktor," Y/N’s voice echoed from the hallway, casual but with a hint of mischief. "She’s very well trained. Just, uh... don’t leave her alone with anything valuable."

Viktor, ever the optimist, had dismissed the warning. How much trouble could a small cat cause in a lab filled with state-of-the-art hextech devices? he’d thought. And so, he continued to fiddle with his equipment, not realising the cat had already taken full note of his every move.

As Viktor turned back to the device, he felt a soft thud as the tabby made her move. She ambled up to a shelf nearby, giving Viktor a glance that was equal parts calculating and smug. With a flick of her paw, she nudged a device—an intricate piece of work that Viktor had spent hours perfecting—towards the edge of the table.

"Wait!" Viktor yelped, reaching out just a moment too late. The device wobbled, and then with a slow, inevitable fate, it fell to the floor, shattering into pieces with a sharp crack.

The cat didn’t even flinch. She just stared at Viktor, her tail flicking slowly, as if daring him to do something about it. Viktor was momentarily stunned. He bent down, muttering under his breath, "You little menace," as he picked up the shards. "You’ve got more destructive power than an army of chem-barons."

From the hallway, Y/N’s voice called out, oblivious to the carnage unfolding in the lab. "Viktor, I’m just grabbing a snack. Be nice to my cat!"

The moment the door clicked shut, the tabby saw it as her cue. Viktor was still distracted, kneeling to gather the broken pieces, when the cat, as if on a mission, darted between his legs. Viktor’s cane was caught between his feet as he staggered, barely managing to keep himself upright.

"Not now!" Viktor groaned, but the tabby was relentless. She weaved between his feet like a small, furry shadow, causing him to stumble back and knock over another stack of components. His cane slipped, and he grabbed the desk to steady himself, but—

The cat was already on the counter, her eyes gleaming with mischief. With a quick flick of her paw, she sent a mug—his favourite mug, a gift from Y/N—tumbling off the edge of the table. It fell in slow motion, and Viktor could do nothing but watch in horror as it shattered into pieces on the ground.

"Really?!" Viktor exclaimed, his voice a mixture of disbelief and frustration. The tabby just gave him another one of those looks—that infuriating, knowing stare that seemed to say, Your problem now, not mine.

Just as Viktor was about to give the cat a stern lecture, Y/N returned, her voice light and cheerful. "Everything okay in here?"

The tabby immediately leapt into her lap, curling up as though she hadn’t just spent the last few minutes turning Viktor’s workspace into a disaster zone. Y/N looked down at the mess, her brow furrowing playfully.

"Uh-oh, what happened in here?" she asked, though her tone made it clear she already knew the answer.

Viktor, standing there with his cane in one hand and a pile of broken equipment in the other, sighed dramatically. "Your cat, Y/N. She’s... she's a menace."

Y/N smiled sweetly, unbothered. "She’s a very well-trained cat," she said, a sparkle in her eye. "She’s just, you know, testing your patience."

Viktor’s face twisted in frustration. “I don’t know if I’m more frustrated with her, or the fact that she’s winning.” He shot the cat a look of pure betrayal. She stared back with the air of someone who had just won the game—and she knew it.

"Well," Viktor muttered dryly, rubbing his forehead, "I’d rather be facing down a dozen chem-barons with hextech cannons than trying to deal with this little terror again."

Y/N chuckled, clearly enjoying his discomfort. She leaned against him, her arm wrapping around his shoulders as she spoke in a teasing tone. “She’s just... warming up to you. You’ll see.”

Viktor, who had been pacing the lab in frustration, paused and cast a sideways glance at the cat. “Warming up to me? She’s out for blood, not friendship!” He glanced down at his cane, his expression a mix of defeat and determination. "I might need another cane, but this time... to defend myself from her."

Y/N laughed, her head resting on his shoulder as she looked at her cat, who was now grooming herself innocently. “She does have a way of, um, marking her territory.”

Viktor raised an eyebrow as the cat, as if on cue, stretched out and knocked over a stack of papers from the workbench. The papers fluttered to the ground in an elegant cascade, landing in a mess on Viktor’s carefully organised floor.

“Are you serious right now?” Viktor’s voice cracked with a mix of amusement and sheer frustration. “Is she trying to bankrupt me with these paper cuts? Is this her master plan?”

“I told you,” Y/N teased, “she’s very well trained. Just not in the way you expected.” She winked at Viktor, clearly enjoying the show.

Viktor let out a deep, exasperated sigh. “She’s a natural-born saboteur. I’m starting to think I need to install a forcefield around my workbench just to survive her visits.”

Y/N smirked, kissing him on the cheek. “Maybe she’s just trying to get your attention.”

Viktor glanced at the cat, who was now curled up peacefully in Y/N’s lap, purring as if butter wouldn’t melt in her mouth. “Well, she’s certainly succeeded... just not in the way she intended.”

Y/N chuckled, scratching her cat behind the ears. “Don’t worry, Vik. She’ll come around eventually.”

Viktor stared at the cat, now blissfully content. “If she does, it’ll be with a weaponized tail and a caffeine-induced panic attack.”

JAYVIK

The atmosphere in the living room was warm and inviting, the low crackle of the fireplace providing a comforting background hum. Viktor, ever the picture of calm, was settled into his favourite chair, his cane resting neatly by his side. He smiled as he watched Y/N laugh at something he’d said, her laugh light and melodic, a sound that always made him feel at home. Her eyes twinkled with amusement, and Viktor couldn’t help but feel a sense of contentment as he observed her in this peaceful moment.

Jayce, on the other hand, was bouncing off the walls—his usual bundle of energy. He paced the room, occasionally pausing to gesticulate wildly, lost in the latest idea or invention that was bubbling in his mind. His movements were rapid, almost frenetic, and the sound of his shoes tapping against the floor punctuated the otherwise quiet room. But even his ceaseless energy couldn’t escape the presence of Y/N’s cat, which had taken its rightful place in Viktor’s lap. The fluffy ball of disdain looked as though it were royalty and Viktor its devoted subject.

The cat lay sprawled across Viktor’s legs, its eyes half-lidded as it purred softly, completely unperturbed by the chaos around it. Viktor absentmindedly stroked its fur, a look of fondness on his face.

Jayce, however, had clearly had enough. He stopped in his tracks, a mischievous glint in his eye as he glanced at the cat. He cocked his head slightly, sizing it up like a challenge he couldn’t resist.

With a bright grin, Jayce placed his hands on his hips. "Hey there, little guy. How’s it going?"

The cat, looking entirely uninterested, flicked its tail slowly, almost in slow motion, its gaze narrowing ever so slightly at Jayce. Then, in an act of complete disinterest, it turned its back on him, curling up even more tightly on Viktor’s lap.

Y/N chuckled softly, shaking her head in amusement. "It’s not you, Jayce. Cats... they have very specific tastes."

Jayce, ever the optimist, puffed out his chest and gave a confident smile. "Specific? It’s just a cat. How bad can it be? I’ll win it over, you’ll see."

With that, Jayce dashed off to the kitchen, returning moments later with a small bowl of treats. He held it out, almost as though presenting an offering to a deity. "Look! I brought you some treats! Peace offering?"

The cat glanced briefly at the bowl, then lazily turned its head back toward the wall. Its gaze flickered over Jayce for a fraction of a second, as though considering whether he was worth even the smallest bit of attention. It wasn’t. With an exaggerated flick of its tail, the cat rolled over onto its back, completely ignoring him and settling deeper into Viktor’s lap as though to make a point.

Viktor raised an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of his lips as he continued to pet the cat. "It seems I’m the preferred option, Jayce."

Y/N, her voice teasing, couldn’t resist a little jab. "Well, you do tend to attract the... more discerning crowd."

Jayce, momentarily deflated but not one to back down easily, threw his shoulders back and leaned forward, a new plan forming in his mind. "Alright, alright. How about this? What if I sing you a song? You like music, right?"

Y/N rolled her eyes but couldn’t hold back a laugh as she watched Jayce prepare for his next attempt. Viktor, too, raised an eyebrow, clearly amused by Jayce’s unrelenting determination.

Without missing a beat, Jayce cleared his throat dramatically and began belting out a popular song. His voice was full of energy, but unfortunately, not much in the way of musicality. It was loud, off-key, and filled with all the fervor of a man who thought he was giving a world-class performance. The cat’s ears twitched slightly at the noise, and for a moment, it flicked its eyes toward Jayce. But that moment was brief. The cat yawned—a long, deliberate stretch of its jaw—and then, with an almost bored sigh, jumped off Viktor’s lap. It strutted confidently over to the back of the couch and curled up in a perfect little ball, completely indifferent to Jayce’s efforts.

Jayce stood there, the bowl of treats still in his hand, watching the cat move with an air of smug satisfaction that was almost palpable.

"Alright..." Jayce sighed, shoulders slumping. He placed the treats down on the table, defeated. "I get it. No singing. I’ll... just leave you to your royal highness."

Y/N couldn’t hold it in any longer. She burst into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she tried to stifle it. She patted Jayce’s arm comfortingly. "It’s like it has its own aesthetic, Jayce. And you just don’t fit that vibe."

Viktor, still petting the cat, chuckled softly. "Some things can’t be rushed. Cats are a... patient breed."

Jayce, though deflated, wasn’t ready to give up just yet. He crossed his arms, looking stubbornly at the cat. "I swear, I’m going to get that cat to like me one day."

Y/N, with a playful glint in her eyes, raised an eyebrow. "Maybe next time you’ll bring it a better peace offering—something it can actually respect."

Jayce groaned dramatically and flopped down onto the couch, crossing his arms like a petulant child. "This is an outrage! I’ve tried treats, I’ve tried songs, and the cat’s still... winning! How is this fair?"

Viktor, clearly enjoying Jayce’s frustration, smirked and pulled Y/N closer, kissing the top of her head. "It’s a battle you’ll have to accept, my friend."

The cat, completely satisfied with its victory, curled up even more comfortably on the back of the couch. It gave Jayce one last glance, a look that could only be described as smug, before it let out a contented purr. The war was won, and the cat was the undisputed ruler of Viktor’s lap.

=

Later that night, when it was time for bed, Y/N and Viktor were already snuggled up together, the soft rustling of sheets and the quiet warmth of their embrace filling the space. Viktor’s arm was protectively wrapped around Y/N, and he was already beginning to drift off to sleep, his head nestled comfortably on the pillow.

Jayce, still determined to join the cuddle pile, moved toward the bed. He had no idea that the real battle was just about to begin.

The cat, who had been lounging peacefully on the floor, noticed Jayce’s approach. In a move so quick it was almost comical, it jumped up onto the bed, trotting directly to Y/N’s side. With a huff, it nestled itself between Y/N and Viktor, as though staking its claim on the spot. It didn’t even look at Jayce, just settled down and purred contentedly.

Jayce froze at the edge of the bed, staring at the cat in disbelief. "Uh, excuse me? That’s my side!"

The cat didn’t even acknowledge him. It turned its head slowly, giving him the longest, most disdainful look it could muster. Then, with a flick of its tail, it curled itself even tighter into the blanket, as though to say, This is my domain now, human. You have no place here.

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh, wrapping her arm around Viktor and pulling herself closer to him. Viktor looked down at the scene with an amused expression, clearly enjoying the absurdity of it all.

"Looks like you’re not getting in, Jayce," Y/N teased, her voice light with laughter.

Viktor, pulling Y/N closer and kissing the top of her head, smirked. "Seems like your efforts have been... entirely futile."

Jayce, deflated and thoroughly defeated, dramatically flopped down onto the floor beside the bed. He lay there with his arms crossed, staring up at the ceiling as if the world had conspired against him.

"I’ve tried everything," he sighed dramatically. "I can’t even get into my own bed with my partners anymore."

The cat let out another exaggerated purr, a sound that seemed to mock Jayce’s defeat, and then nestled even deeper into the blankets. It was clear: the cat had won, not just the battle, but the entire war.

Y/N, her voice full of teasing, raised an eyebrow. "Maybe next time you’ll bring it something it actually respects, Jayce. A proper peace offering."

Jayce rolled over onto his back with a dramatic sigh, crossing his arms in defeat. "I’ll never win this war... will I?"

Viktor laughed softly and pulled Y/N even closer into his embrace. "It’s a battle you’ll have to accept, lásko"

=

After a beat, Y/N, realising that Jayce was still outside the warm bed, sighed and gently nudged the cat. She coaxed it with soft words, carefully shifting it from its position to lie between her and Viktor. The cat begrudgingly moved, its tail flicking once more, but ultimately it settled in the new spot, casting a final glance at Jayce as though to say, I’m not done with you yet.

With the cat now comfortably between them, Y/N patted the space beside her. "Alright, come on, Jayce. You can join us now."

Jayce hesitated, but the warmth of the bed and the prospect of snuggling beside Y/N was too tempting to resist. He climbed up into bed, pressing himself gently against her side. But just as he was settling in, he couldn’t shake the feeling that the cat’s eyes were still on him.

From between Y/N and Viktor, the cat's gaze bore into him, the faintest glint of mischief in its eyes. Jayce could feel its presence, the weight of its unblinking stare hovering over him like a challenge.

Y/N smiled softly, resting her head against Viktor’s chest. "You’re not alone, Jayce," she said, but her tone held a teasing edge as she looked over at the cat’s eyes watching from between them.

Jayce shifted uncomfortably, feeling the weight of the cat’s silent judgment. "I swear, this is the last time I try to win this battle," he muttered, finally allowing himself to relax against Y/N.

Viktor chuckled, tightening his arm around Y/N. "I think that may be wise." He kissed the top of her head and smiled, knowing full well the cat had claimed its victory—for now.

The cat, nestled comfortably between Y/N and Viktor, let out a contented purr, as if it had declared its territorial rights and was now satisfied. Jayce, though defeated, could only roll his eyes at the absurdity of it all as the three of them finally settled in for the night. But no matter how comfortable he got, the feeling of the cat’s gaze never truly left him, its watchful eyes a constant reminder that the war was far from over.

VANDER

Y/N’s cat, an enormous, fluffy black-and-white feline with a perpetually unimpressed expression, had made himself at home at the Last Drop. Whether lounging atop the bar, curled up on a shelf of questionable cleanliness, or casually knocking over empty glasses with the flick of a paw, the cat ruled the pub like a grumpy monarch overseeing his dishevelled kingdom. And, much like any ruler, he had his list of favourites and those he deemed unworthy. Vander, unfortunately, fell into the latter category.

“Oh, come on,” Vander grumbled, watching as the cat hopped up onto the bar again, his sharp green eyes glaring at him with the kind of disdain that only a cat could muster. Vander gestured to the creature with exasperation. “What’s your problem, mate? I’ve been nothing but nice to you! I even feed you scraps!”

The cat, in response, blinked slowly, turned his back to Vander, and began grooming himself with deliberate indifference. The message was clear: Your efforts are pathetic, peasant.

Y/N, wiping down one of the tables nearby, chuckled as she caught the interaction. “I told you already, love. He’s not a fan of beer-soaked steak. Or you, apparently.” She shot Vander a cheeky grin before returning to her work.

Vander leaned against the bar with a heavy sigh, his broad arms crossed over his chest. “I think he’s got it out for me. He stares at me like he knows all my secrets. It’s unsettling.”

Y/N’s grin widened as she set her cleaning rag down. “Oh, he does. Cats are excellent judges of character. Aren’t you, darling?”

At the sound of Y/N’s voice, the cat’s ears perked up. He abandoned his grooming, leapt gracefully from the bar onto Y/N’s shoulder, and nuzzled against her cheek with a deep, rumbling purr. His tail swayed lazily, brushing against her neck.

“See?” Y/N said smugly, stroking the cat under his chin. “He loves me.”

“Of course, he loves you. Everyone loves you,” Vander muttered, his glower fixed on the cat. “But he’s downright cruel to me. How do you explain that?”

The cat chose that exact moment to leap from Y/N’s shoulder straight onto Vander’s broad chest, claws extending just enough to ensure a solid grip. Vander froze, his hands hovering awkwardly in the air as he stared down at the feline now clinging to him like some kind of fluffy barnacle.

“Uh… Y/N?” Vander said, his voice laced with equal parts confusion and panic.

Y/N covered her mouth to stifle a laugh. “Oh, he’s just making himself comfortable, love. Don’t worry, he won’t hurt you.”

“Not on purpose,” Vander muttered under his breath. The cat climbed up onto his shoulder with all the regal authority of a king ascending a throne, his tail flicking against Vander’s face as he settled into his new perch.

“You look good,” Y/N teased, biting her lip to keep from laughing outright. “Very dignified. Like a true king’s steward.”

“I hate this,” Vander muttered, standing stiff as a board, clearly terrified of offending his unwelcome passenger.

The cat, as if sensing Vander’s discomfort, gave a low, self-satisfied purr before leaping gracefully back onto the bar. Vander exhaled in relief, furiously brushing at his shirt to remove the tufts of black-and-white fur left behind.

The sound of giggling pulled their attention. Mylo, Powder, Vi, and Claggor were gathered at a nearby table, clearly enjoying the show. Powder’s face lit up as she clapped her hands together.

“He loves us!” she chirped, holding out her arms as the cat padded over. With the air of a benevolent ruler, the feline rubbed his head against Powder’s hand before flopping onto his back in her lap, purring so loudly it practically rattled the bottles behind the bar.

“Traitor,” Vander grumbled, watching as the cat basked in Powder’s affection, his paws kneading the air contentedly.

“He’s got taste,” Mylo said with a smirk. “Likes the kids. Doesn’t like grumpy old men.”

Vander raised an eyebrow, fixing Mylo with a pointed look. “Grumpy old men, eh? Maybe you’d like to clean up tonight, then?”

Mylo’s smirk vanished instantly. “I meant wise and distinguished men!” he said hurriedly, shooting an apologetic grin at Vander.

Y/N burst into laughter, shaking her head as she leaned against the bar. “Oh, leave them be, love. He’s just protecting his territory. That’s all.”

Vander’s brows furrowed. “His territory?”

The cat gave a low, self-satisfied mrrrow from Powder’s lap, his eyes half-lidded with smug contentment. It was as though he was saying, Yes, my territory.

“Yes, his territory,” Y/N said, planting a quick kiss on Vander’s cheek. “Face it, darling. You’re sharing this place with a cat who thinks he’s king.”

Vander groaned, resting his head in his hands. “One day, that cat’s going to knock a pint onto my head, and I’ll still be the villain in his eyes.”

“Probably,” Y/N said cheerfully, stroking the cat as she joined Powder and the others.

The cat flicked his tail again, looking far too pleased with himself, while the kids dissolved into laughter. In that moment, Vander could almost swear the cat was smirking at him.

=

Hours later, the Last Drop was finally closed for the night. Y/N ushered the kids upstairs to the living quarters, where they shared a cosy room packed with mismatched blankets, pillows, and the faint scent of childhood mischief. Vander followed behind, checking the locks on the doors and extinguishing the last of the pub’s lights.

Once upstairs, Vander paused at the doorway of the kids’ room. Powder was already curled up in bed, her arms wrapped around a patchwork stuffed toy. At her side, nestled against her with the same protective aura as an old guard dog, was the cat. His fluffy black-and-white form rose and fell with each slow, purring breath.

Vander’s lips twitched into a reluctant smile. “Guess he’s not all bad,” he muttered under his breath, quietly closing the door behind him.

He made his way down the hall to his own room, where Y/N was already tucked into bed. The room was dimly lit by the faint glow of a lantern, casting soft shadows on the walls. Vander sighed, ready to collapse into bed after the long day.

But as he stepped inside, he froze.

There, at the foot of the bed, sat the cat. His green eyes glinted in the low light, fixed on Vander with an unyielding glare. His tail flicked once, the motion slow and deliberate, as if to say, This is my space now.

“Oh, for crying out loud,” Vander muttered, rubbing a hand down his face. “What is it with you?”

Y/N stirred, opening one eye to look at him. “What’s wrong?” she murmured sleepily.

“The cat,” Vander said, gesturing towards the feline monarch sitting smugly on the bed. “He’s doing it again.”

Y/N sat up slightly, squinting at the cat. She let out a soft laugh. “He’s just keeping your spot warm, love. Isn’t that right?”

The cat gave a low, disdainful mrrow, his gaze never leaving Vander.

Vander sighed, muttering something unintelligible as he crossed the room. He gently picked up the cat, who protested with a half-hearted hiss, and set him on the nearby chair.

The cat leapt back onto the bed almost immediately, curling up at Y/N’s side this time, his eyes still trained on Vander as if daring him to try again.

“You win,” Vander grumbled, climbing into bed on the opposite side. “But one day, cat, one day I’ll have my revenge.”

The cat closed his eyes, purring triumphantly as Y/N giggled, pulling Vander close. “Face it, love. He’s got you wrapped around his paw.”

“Just don’t let him tell the kids,” Vander mumbled, already drifting off to sleep, the faint sound of purring filling the room.

SILCO

The Last Drop was unusually quiet tonight, save for the rhythmic sound of Y/N humming softly as she stitched up a tear in one of Silco’s finely tailored coats. A dim, flickering light from a nearby lamp cast long shadows across the room. Silco sat across from her in his usual chair, steepling his fingers, his brow furrowed in thought. It was the kind of look that sent shivers down the spines of his enemies, the look of a man plotting something undeniably dangerous.

But tonight, Silco had been thrown off his game.

Across the room, perched on the windowsill like some judgemental gargoyle, sat the true ruler of the space. A creature whose presence demanded reverence and fear in equal measure.

The cat.

He was a sleek, black devil with sharp golden eyes that seemed to burn like molten coins, his tail flicking lazily behind him. He sat tall and poised, as if daring anyone to challenge his authority.

And Silco, a man who could stare down the likes of Piltover's enforcers without breaking a sweat, was glaring at the cat like it was his mortal enemy.

“What?” Silco finally muttered, his gravelly voice cutting through the silence.

The cat didn’t move. He didn’t blink. He simply continued his unyielding stare.

“What’s going on now?” Y/N asked without looking up. She didn’t need to. This was far from the first time Silco and the cat had gone head-to-head.

“Your… creature,” Silco drawled, his voice dripping with venom, “has been staring at me for thirty minutes straight. I suspect it’s plotting my assassination.”

Y/N chuckled, pulling the thread taut. “He’s just trying to figure you out. Cats are perceptive like that.”

“Oh, he’s not trying to ‘figure me out.’” Silco leaned forward slightly, his single good eye narrowing into a deadly slit. “He’s judging me. Mocking me.”

The cat blinked once, slowly, as if to say, Yes. Yes, I am.

Y/N smirked, finally glancing up. “Why don’t you try being nice to him? Maybe then he’ll warm up to you.”

“I am nice,” Silco said sharply.

“You stabbed someone last week because they sneezed too close to you,” she pointed out casually, returning to her work.

“That was entirely different. They sneezed on me.” Silco sat back in his chair, his fingers drumming impatiently against the armrest.

The cat yawned widely, showing off his small, sharp teeth, before stretching languidly across the windowsill. His movements were deliberately slow, almost theatrical, like he was putting on a show.

Silco’s eye twitched. “Do not test me,” he warned in a low voice.

The cat let out a soft, almost dismissive meow.

“Oh, for the love of—” Silco stood abruptly, his patience fraying. “Listen here, you mangy little—”

The cat, undeterred by the rising tension, leapt gracefully from the windowsill onto Silco’s desk. His paws landed squarely on a stack of meticulously organised documents. The silence that followed was deafening.

The two locked eyes once more, the tension in the room thick enough to cut with a knife. Slowly, deliberately, the cat raised one paw and batted a pen onto the floor.

Y/N looked up just in time to catch the moment. She had to bite the inside of her cheek to stop herself from laughing. “I think he likes you,” she teased, her voice full of amusement.

“Oh, he adores me,” Silco replied flatly, his good eye narrowing even further.

The cat began to knead his paws into the documents, his claws catching on the delicate paper. Then, with a dramatic flick of his tail, he knocked over an inkwell. The dark liquid spilled across the desk in a slow, spreading pool, ruining the papers beneath it.

Silco froze. His hands clenched into fists at his sides, and for a moment, Y/N genuinely thought he might throw the cat out of the nearest window.

“Y/N,” he said slowly, his voice a dangerous whisper, “your demon has just destroyed hours of work.”

Y/N shrugged, fighting back a grin. “Maybe he’s trying to tell you to relax. You work too much.”

Silco pinched the bridge of his nose, muttering something under his breath about “accursed creatures” and “Zaun not being big enough for the both of us.”

The cat, clearly unbothered by the destruction he’d caused, circled a few times before plopping down onto the ruined papers. He curled into a tight ball and let out a loud, triumphant purr.

Silco glared at the smug little beast, his jaw clenched so tightly that Y/N could hear his teeth grinding.

“It’s sleeping. On my work,” Silco noted, his voice heavy with disbelief.

“It must trust you,” Y/N said sweetly, walking over to the desk. She scratched the cat behind the ears, earning another loud purr.

“Oh, it trusts me, does it?” Silco muttered bitterly, sitting back down with a sharp exhale. He leaned on the desk, his good eye never leaving the cat.

The cat opened one eye to look at him, stretched lazily, and let out a soft chirp, as if to say, No, you’re lucky I tolerate you.

Y/N finally broke into laughter, her shoulders shaking as she leaned against the desk for support. “You two are more alike than you realise,” she teased.

Silco turned his glare on her. “Do not compare me to that insolent furball.”

But deep down, Y/N knew the truth. Despite his protests, Silco secretly respected the cat’s audacity. And while neither of them would ever admit it, their nightly staring contests had become an unspoken tradition—a battle of wills between a crime lord and a feline who couldn’t care less.

As always, the cat remained undefeated.

=

Down in the dimly lit bar, the hum of chatter and the clinking of glasses filled the air. In their small, sectioned-off table tucked into the shadows of The Last Drop, Silco sat with his usual commanding presence. The cat sat perched beside him, lounging on the edge of the bench as though he owned the place.

Y/N had stepped away to speak to someone who had approached her at the bar, leaving the unlikely duo momentarily alone.

Silco swirled his glass of whisky absently, his sharp eye tracking her movement across the room. The cat, lounging in his usual air of superiority, watched her as well, his golden eyes narrowing like twin daggers.

At first, Silco ignored the cat’s line of sight, assuming it was just being its usual nosy self. But when he glanced back towards Y/N, he noticed the stranger leaning in a little too close. Silco’s fingers tightened around his glass.

The cat’s tail lashed.

The stranger laughed at something Y/N said, gesturing a little too animatedly. They leaned closer, their voice dropping as if to murmur something just for her ears.

Silco’s jaw clenched. His good eye narrowed. He shifted forward slightly in his seat, his whole body radiating displeasure.

The cat, mirroring him almost perfectly, sat upright, tail flicking furiously against the bench.

Silco’s glare shifted to the cat for a brief moment, as if questioning why it was suddenly invested in this situation. But then their gazes returned to the stranger in unison, a synchronised act of unrelenting disdain.

The cat let out a low, almost guttural growl—a sound Silco didn’t even know cats were capable of making.

“Hm,” Silco murmured, setting his glass down slowly. “You don’t like them either, do you?”

The cat, as if understanding him perfectly, flicked its ears back and let out an indignant chirp.

Silco’s lips twitched into something resembling a smirk. For the first time since the feline had infiltrated his life, he felt a spark of camaraderie. “At least you have some taste.”

They continued their silent scrutiny, their mutual disapproval practically radiating across the room. The stranger reached out and placed a hand on Y/N’s arm, their tone overly familiar.

Silco’s smirk vanished. His fingers tapped against the tabletop with deliberate menace. Beside him, the cat let out a sharp, accusatory meow, its tail slamming against the bench like a judge’s gavel.

Y/N, oblivious to the brewing storm, laughed at something the stranger said, but when she glanced over her shoulder and caught sight of Silco and the cat glaring daggers at the poor soul in front of her, she faltered.

“What in the world…” she muttered to herself, her brows knitting together in confusion.

The stranger, noticing her distraction, turned to follow her gaze. The moment they locked eyes with Silco’s icy glare and the cat’s piercing stare, their confidence visibly wavered.

Silco leaned back in his seat, his head tilting ever so slightly, his expression calm but deadly. The cat mirrored him perfectly, its golden eyes narrowing further as it let out a low, almost mocking meow.

The stranger cleared their throat awkwardly, stepping back slightly. “Uh… well, I’ll let you get back to your… uh, friends.” They gestured vaguely towards the table before hastily retreating into the crowd.

Y/N raised an eyebrow as she made her way back to the table. “Alright, what was that about?”

Silco sipped his whisky, feigning innocence. “I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

The cat, equally smug, hopped down from the bench and onto Y/N’s lap as she sat down, purring loudly as if it had just saved her life.

Y/N looked between the two of them suspiciously. “You two were glaring at them, weren’t you?”

Silco didn’t respond, but the slight upturn of his lips betrayed him. The cat, on the other hand, let out a proud little chirp before curling up contentedly.

Y/N sighed, shaking her head. “You’re both impossible.”

Silco glanced at the cat, who met his gaze briefly before settling back down with a haughty flick of its tail.

“Perhaps,” Silco murmured, raising his glass in a mock toast towards the cat, “but at least we understand each other now.”

The cat let out a single, approving meow, and for the first time, the two shared a moment of mutual respect. It seemed there was one thing they could agree on: no one got too close to Y/N without their say-so.

JINX/POWDER

Y/N sat at the table, casually sipping from her cup of tea, watching the chaotic scene unfold before her. Her cat, a small, fluffy creature with a deep-seated sense of superiority, sat like a statue in Jinx’s arms. His eyes were wide and filled with disdain, and his tail twitched with enough irritation to create a small breeze. He wasn’t a fan of cuddles, least of all forced ones.

Jinx, oblivious to the cat’s obvious displeasure, leaned in even closer, her wild hair tangling around the poor feline’s face. "Come on, kitty," she cooed, her voice unreasonably chipper for someone being so intensely rejected. "We’re gonna be best pals, just you wait!"

The cat blinked slowly, his gaze flat and unamused. If he could roll his eyes, he would have done so a dozen times by now. His tail flicked lazily, but there was an underlying venom in the slow motion. Y/N could almost hear his thoughts: Please. Someone help me.

"Jinx," Y/N said between sips, her lips curving into a smile she couldn’t hide. "I think he’s made it pretty clear that he’s not your biggest fan."

"Nah," Jinx shot back, completely unfazed by the cat's barely concealed hatred. She tightened her grip around his little body, causing the cat to go rigid. "He’s just playing hard to get! Deep down, he loves me. He just doesn’t know it yet."

Y/N couldn’t help but laugh. "You really think so, huh? He's about as fond of you as a rat in a trap."

"Not true!" Jinx insisted, her eyes glinting mischievously. She proceeded to squish the cat’s face into her chest, practically suffocating him with affection. "He’s just shy. I’ll teach him the power of hugs!"

The cat, if anything, only seemed to shrink further into himself. His eyes widened, darting over to Y/N like a prisoner begging for mercy. His tiny paws swatted at the air weakly, trying to escape, but Jinx’s hold was unrelenting. He gave Y/N one final pleading glance before squirming again, this time attempting to contort his body like a professional escape artist. His dignity was slipping away, and he was too proud to let it show.

Y/N sighed dramatically, setting her cup down on the table with a soft clink. She folded her arms, her amused expression morphing into one of mock sternness. "Jinx, if you don’t let him go right now, he’s going to turn into a puff of fur and resentment. You’re not exactly 'winning him over' here."

Jinx raised her eyebrows at the challenge. "Nah, he’s just a tough nut to crack! I’m not giving up. We’re gonna be besties by the end of the day!" She pressed her cheek to the cat’s fur as though it would somehow convince him.

The cat’s eyes flicked to Y/N again, this time looking more like a tiny, furry hostage. It was the sort of expression that said, Please, for the love of all that’s good, save me. His tail, previously twitching in annoyance, now whipped around in short, rapid jerks as he tried to break free.

Y/N gave an exaggerated shrug, leaning back in her chair with a devilish grin. "Well, you’ve got about three seconds before he goes full tornado of fury on you."

True to her word, the cat’s tail fluffed up to twice its size, and with a sharp hiss, he made his move. It was like a blur of fur as he squirmed out of Jinx’s arms and darted down to the floor with an agility that belied his tiny frame.

Jinx made a noise of protest, but by the time she even realised what had happened, the cat was already bolting for cover under the couch. His little face peeked out just enough to confirm that he was now safe, looking up at Y/N with a mix of gratitude and exasperation. His tail twitched in what could only be described as a smug victory dance.

Y/N stifled a laugh, watching the cat's little face of triumph. "See? He’s just not a hugger."

Jinx huffed dramatically, crossing her arms. "Fine, maybe he’s not a hugger. But that’s just because he’s too cool for hugs. I’ll win him over with treats!" She stood up, a plan already forming in her head.

Y/N raised an eyebrow. "You sure? I wouldn’t be surprised if he just takes your treats and then runs off with them like some kind of criminal mastermind."

Jinx’s expression softened in determination. "You just wait. I’ve got this. One way or another, that cat is going to love me!" She gave a little nod to herself, as if it were a done deal.

Meanwhile, under the couch, the cat was staring at the two of them with an air of cautious relief. His body was still trembling slightly from his narrow escape, but now that he was out of Jinx’s clutches, he was beginning to feel slightly more like himself again. Still, he shot a final, pleading look at Y/N, his eyes silently begging for her intervention should things take another turn.

Y/N chuckled to herself, glancing back at the cat and then at Jinx. "You know, you’re going to end up making him suspicious of treats at this rate. He might start avoiding you altogether."

Jinx paused mid-step, looking back at Y/N with that same unshakable confidence. "No way. He can’t resist my charm!"

The cat, still in hiding, rolled his eyes. It was going to be a long day.

=

Days later, Y/N sat on the couch, half lost in thought, her eyes idly flicking between the small book she was reading and the scene unfolding before her. Jinx had been at it all afternoon, determined as ever to win over the cat. Y/N had watched in amusement as Jinx used treats, soft words, and, to her disbelief, a homemade sweater to try and coax the cat into liking her.

The sweater, a bizarre yet undeniably cute creation made from scrap fabric Jinx had scrounged from who-knows-where, was admittedly a masterpiece of chaos. It was stitched together with questionable craftsmanship—frayed edges here and there, mismatched patches of cloth sewn haphazardly—but there was no denying the effort that had gone into it. The cat, however, hadn’t quite shared that sentiment.

At first, when Jinx had carefully draped the tiny, too-tight sweater over him, the cat had immediately turned into a squirming ball of fury. He’d managed to escape twice before Jinx finally got him back into the thing, and with a triumphant squeal, she’d squeezed him into a cuddle.

Now, hours later, Jinx was curled up on the couch, her legs tucked beneath her, holding the cat in her arms like he was a delicate treasure. To anyone else, it might have seemed like the cat was still at odds with the whole situation, but there was something about the way he had settled into Jinx’s embrace—his tiny, furry head resting on her chest and his body finally still—that told Y/N a different story.

Jinx was practically beaming, her arms wrapped protectively around the little furball, her cheek pressed lightly against the cat’s head as if he were her most precious possession. His eyes were half-lidded, his tail still flicking occasionally, but he no longer looked entirely displeased. If anything, he looked... tolerant. Y/N chuckled softly to herself, shaking her head in amusement. Jinx had won, but not without a significant amount of persistence—and perhaps a bit of force.

The cat, now dressed in his peculiar little sweater, did look... somewhat comfy. Y/N smiled at the sight, the cat’s usual defiance somewhat softened, his tiny chest rising and falling in slow, rhythmic breaths as he dozed. He was still glaring at Jinx through half-closed eyes, but the death grip on his freedom had loosened, just enough to allow him to relax into the warmth of her embrace.

It was a rare moment of peace in a chaotic world, and as she watched Jinx gently stroke the cat’s head, her heart melted a little. There was something undeniably endearing about the way Jinx tried so hard, despite the cat’s stubbornness, to form a bond. Even if it looked like it was a battle of wills, there was tenderness there—something she hadn’t expected from someone like Jinx.

Y/N sat back further in her chair, feeling the warmth of the moment settle over her. The sight of Jinx, her face soft and full of pride, holding the cat so carefully—despite everything—was enough to make her smile.

"Well," Y/N said quietly, more to herself than anything, "I guess that sweater was the key after all."

Jinx, eyes glinting with quiet triumph, grinned and nodded, though she kept her voice low, not wanting to disturb the cat’s nap. "Told you. It’s all about the sweater. And the hugs. He’s totally warming up to me."

Y/N chuckled softly, watching the cat’s little face shift slightly, his fur rustling under the soft pressure of Jinx’s hand. He wasn’t entirely asleep yet, but he was no longer fighting, and for now, that was a small victory in Jinx’s eyes.

"I think he’s just starting to accept his fate," Y/N teased gently.

Jinx shot her a playful wink. "Yeah, well, he’ll thank me when he realises he has the best cuddle buddy in Zaun."

The cat, blissfully unaware of their banter, snuggled further into Jinx’s arms, and Y/N couldn’t help but smile at the scene. It wasn’t perfect, and it certainly wasn’t without its moments of conflict, but in this quiet, contented moment, Jinx had found a way to make the cat feel safe—at least for now.

With the soft hum of Jinx’s quiet satisfaction filling the air, Y/N settled back in her chair, content to just let the moment unfold. She knew that, at the end of the day, whether or not the cat truly warmed up to Jinx, it was clear that there was a bond forming—a connection, however unlikely—and that was enough to leave her heart a little fuller.

For now, she’d let them enjoy the peace. The chaos would always return, but this rare, calm moment between them was something to cherish.

[dualityvn]

Tenebris smurf cat version, freshly baked and made with love 😊.

(It was fun to edit this)

"May you choke on fish bones and burn your tongue on hot beverages each morning." - Tenebris

[your-local-simp-writers]

Mistletoe

Word Count: 1456

Warnings: None

Silver the Hedgehog x Fem! Reader

Note- You are mobian, a silly little hedgehog!

Also yall should check our our latest poll ︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶︶꒦꒷♡꒷꒦︶

The little town seemed plucked straight out of a snow globe. Rows of quaint timber-framed shops, their rooftops blanketed with snow, lined the cobblestone streets. Wreaths adorned every door, strings of golden lights looped from lampposts, and the scent of roasted chestnuts and spiced cider wafted through the crisp air. Silver and you strolled side by side, your breath visible in soft puffs as you took in the festive scene.

Silver adjusted his scarf, glancing down at you with a small, content smile. The lights reflected in his emerald eyes, giving him an almost ethereal glow. “This place is amazing,” he murmured, his voice soft but filled with awe.

“Isn’t it?” you replied, spinning in a circle to take it all in. “I love how everything feels so alive, like the whole town is celebrating together.”

The two of you wandered toward the bustling Christmas market, a maze of wooden stalls brimming with holiday treasures. Each booth seemed to tell its own story—one sold handmade candles in scents like pine and cinnamon, while another offered colorful woolen scarves and mittens. A nearby vendor was carving tiny figurines out of ice, his skilled hands moving with precision despite the cold.

“Oh, look at that!” you said, tugging Silver toward a stand displaying jars of sparkling snow globes. You picked one up and shook it, watching as tiny flecks of glitter swirled around a miniature village scene inside.

Silver leaned closer to observe, his hand brushing yours as he steadied the globe. “It’s like holding a little piece of this town,” he said softly, his tone filled with wonder.

You grinned, setting the globe back down. “Maybe you should get one, then. A way to remember today.”

He chuckled, scratching the back of his neck. “I think just being here is something I won’t forget.”

Further down the street, the two of you passed a bakery where the windows were fogged with warmth. The display was filled with gingerbread houses, their frosting decorations so detailed they looked like real cottages. The smell of freshly baked pastries made your stomach rumble, and you couldn’t resist pulling Silver inside.

The bakery was cozy and bustling, with shelves lined with loaves of bread, trays of cookies, and steaming pots of hot chocolate. A friendly baker greeted you, offering a tray of free samples. You eagerly grabbed a tiny cinnamon roll, savoring the sweetness as you turned to Silver.

“Try this,” you said, holding one up for him. He hesitated for a moment before leaning down, taking the bite you offered. His eyes widened slightly, and he nodded in approval.

“That’s really good,” he admitted, his cheeks tinting pink—not from the cold, but from the closeness of the moment.

After leaving the bakery, you found yourselves in front of a toy store, its window display filled with plush animals and colorful trains. A group of children pressed their noses against the glass, their laughter ringing through the air.

Silver paused, watching them with a soft smile. “It’s nice, seeing everyone so happy.”

You nodded, slipping your hand into his without thinking. “It really is. It’s like the holidays bring out the best in everyone.”

Your touch startled him, but he didn’t pull away. Instead, his fingers curled gently around yours, his warmth a comforting contrast to the chill in the air.

As the evening went on, the two of you explored more shops—a tiny bookstore where the owner’s cat dozed on the counter, a craft store filled with handmade ornaments, and a quaint apothecary selling herbal teas and scented sachets. Each place felt like a treasure trove, and you found yourself drawn to the little details—the soft hum of holiday music in the background, the way the shopkeepers greeted you with warm smiles, and the simple joy of sharing the experience with Silver.

Eventually, as snow began to fall more steadily, the two of you found yourselves walking down a quieter street. “Any idea what you want for Christmas?” Silver asked, glancing down at you with a soft smile. His breath puffed out in visible clouds, and his silver fur seemed to catch the glow of the lights, making him look even more radiant than usual.

You grinned, your breath hitching slightly as you adjusted the scarf wrapped snugly around your neck. “Silver, I can’t tell you that. You have to guess!”

His ears twitched, and he tilted his head in thought. “Guess? How am I supposed to—”

“Imagination, my dear hedgehog!” you interrupted, laughing as you spun on your heels, gesturing dramatically at the market stalls lining the street.

He chuckled, the sound light and genuine. “Alright, fine. Let me think.” His gaze wandered over the nearby shops, his expression growing serious as he genuinely pondered the challenge.

As you walked, the two of you passed a stall selling handcrafted ornaments. You paused, admiring the delicate work—intricate glass figurines of snowflakes, reindeer, and stars, all painted with shimmering colors that caught the light beautifully. Silver noticed your fascination and stepped closer.

“These are incredible,” you murmured, reaching out to gently touch one shaped like a crescent moon. The cold glass felt smooth under your fingertips, and you smiled softly, imagining how it would look on a tree.

Silver watched you with quiet intensity, his green eyes flicking between your expression and the ornament. “Do you want it?” he asked after a moment.

You blinked and turned to him, shaking your head quickly. “Oh, no. I was just looking. It’s beautiful, but I don’t need it.”

He frowned slightly, but before you could protest further, he handed the vendor a few coins and carefully picked up the moon ornament. Turning back to you, he held it out with both hands, his cheeks slightly pink. “Here. I want you to have it.”

Your heart swelled at the gesture, and you hesitated for a moment before taking it. “Silver… Thank you. It’s perfect.”

The two of you continued strolling through the market, the glow of the lanterns and the twinkle of lights making the evening feel almost surreal. Silver seemed to relax as the evening wore on, his usual shyness giving way to a playful curiosity as you explored the stalls.

At one booth, you found a set of carved wooden figurines shaped like little forest animals. Silver picked up a tiny hedgehog, holding it up with a grin. “This one looks just like you.”

You laughed, nudging him playfully. “And this one must be you,” you said, holding up a sleek silver fox.

“Silver the Fox? I don’t think it has the same ring to it,” he replied, laughing as he put the figurine back.

As the snow began to fall heavier, the two of you ducked into a cozy café at the end of the street. The warmth of the fireplace inside was immediate and soothing, and the scent of cinnamon and cocoa wrapped around you like a comforting blanket. The café was decorated with wreaths and garlands, and a small Christmas tree stood in the corner, its lights twinkling merrily.

You and Silver found a small table near the window, and soon you were both sipping on steaming mugs of hot chocolate topped with whipped cream and a sprinkle of cinnamon. You sighed contentedly, gazing out at the snow-covered street.

“This is perfect,” you said softly.

Silver nodded, his gaze fixed on you rather than the view outside. “It really is.”

After finishing your drinks, the two of you made your way back outside. The town had grown quieter, but the festive lights still glowed brightly, reflecting off the freshly fallen snow. As you walked down a narrow alley lined with garlands, something caught your eye—a sprig of mistletoe hanging just above you.

You stopped, looking up at it with a sly smile. “Oh, look at that,” you said, pointing.

Silver followed your gaze, his expression shifting from curiosity to sheer panic. “Oh… uh… I mean… th-that’s… um…”

You laughed, stepping closer to him. “What’s the matter, Silver? You’re not afraid of a little tradition, are you?”

“I-I’m not afraid!” he stammered, his cheeks turning a brilliant shade of red.

“Well, then?” you teased, tilting your head playfully.

He hesitated, his green eyes darting between you and the mistletoe. You could see his hands fidgeting nervously, his usual confidence completely gone. Smiling softly, you reached up, standing on your tiptoes to gently press a kiss to his cheek. “Merry Christmas, Silver.”

He froze, his blush spreading all the way to his ears. “M-Merry Christmas,” he stammered, his voice barely above a whisper.

Taking his hand once more, you gave it a reassuring squeeze as you continued walking. The snowflakes danced around you, the town’s lights casting a warm glow over everything.

[hellsitegenetics]

Chicken Pot Pie! :D

this is an actual recipe, but I have not tested it so have no idea if its good.

Ingredients

1 tbsp. olive oil

1 1/2 lb. bone-in, skin-on chicken thighs

Kosher salt and freshly ground black pepper

1/2 yellow onion, chopped

2 carrots, chopped

2 stalks celery, chopped

1 tsp. fresh thyme

1/4 c. all-purpose flour

2 c. chicken stock

1/4 c. dry white wine

1 c. frozen peas

1/4 c. fresh flat-leaf parsley

1 (14-ounce) package all-butter puff pastry

1 large egg, beaten

Directions

Step 1Preheat oven to 425°F. Heat a large cast-iron skillet over medium-high heat. Add oil. Season chicken with salt and pepper. Cook, skin sides down, until golden brown and crisp, 6 to 8 minutes. Flip chicken and transfer skillet to the oven. Cook, until the internal temperature of the thickest thigh registers 165°F on an instant-read thermometer, 12 to 14 minutes. Transfer to a cutting board. Discard skins and bones, and chop chicken. 

Step 2Place skillet over medium-high heat. Add onion, carrots, celery, and thyme. Season with salt and pepper. Cook, stirring occasionally, just until crisp-tender, 3 to 4 minutes. Add flour and cook, stirring, 30 seconds. Slowly stir in stock and wine. Bring to a boil. Reduce to a simmer and cook, stirring occasionally, until thickened, 4 to 6 minutes. Remove from heat. Stir in chicken, peas, and parsley. 

Step 3Cut puff pastry into a circle 1 inch larger than the outside rim of a cast-iron pie plate. (You may need to roll the dough on a lightly floured work surface to get it to size.) Place pie plate on a rimmed baking sheet. Transfer filling to pie plate and top with puff pastry; crimp edges. Brush puff pastry with egg. Bake, until golden brown, puffed, and cooked through, 20 to 25 minutes.

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Closest match: Neolamprologus multifasciatus genome assembly, chromosome: 18 Common name: Many Banded Shell-Dweller

(image source)