#I don't know ... it just reminds me of how I've ended up in this mess in the first place and it's frustrating

[jimingyue]

Cat Tumblr Dashboard Simulator

🖋️ meowful-musings Follow

🕊️ birdwatching Follow

what's wrong with dry food??? my humans feed me it all the time and i think it's fine

💀 elusivehider-deactivated948204

op wheres the natural feeding option

🌲 outdoorsy Follow

you guys are getting fed?

#im a barn cat so maybe im missing something here #meowtthew don't look

7,192 notes

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

ITS OKAY TO BE A MOGGIE

YOU ARE NOT LESS VALID IF YOU ARE NOT A SPECIFIC PEDIGREE!!!!!

☀️ pawsitive-affurmations Follow

extra special shout out to cats who have "common" coat colors. grey tabbies and black cats i am rubbing against your head affectionately <3

🪤 m0usetrap01 Follow

as a grey tabby i really needed to hear this :"3

#i feel like i never see positivity posts for moggies even tho we're the most common type of cat....

154,688 notes

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

i cant believe there are cats ACTUALLY advocating for kittens to be separated from their mothers before 12 weeks??? kittens still need to learn how to interact with other cats before being placed into their furever home omg you guys know you're advocating for undersocialized and aggressive cats right

❤️ loving-paws284 Follow

um op some of us??? matured early??????? i was separated from my mother at 7 weeks and i turned out fine... interesting how you assume that kittens being separated from their mothers at a younger age will lead to the degeneracy of the next generation...hmm i wonder where i've heard that before...

🐈 fluffy-the-cat Follow

OP got bit too hard during a play-fight as a kitten and it shows XD

🐟 tunafeesh Follow

also op have you ever considered that just because somecat is kind of scared and unable to deal with strange cats or humans, it doesn't mean they don't deserve to be adopted?? you sound like a vet psyop honestly

🎵 rage-against-the-meowchine Follow

oh meow god saying that kittens should be fully weaned before leaving their mother is NOT veterinarian rhetoric and i never said that they deserve to be euthanized!!! my mother literally died when i was 3 weeks old and it seriously messed up my development so stop putting words in my mouth, thanks

anyway friendly reminder that underweaned kittens are prone to illness and often struggle with basic cat behaviors like litterbox usage, and in some nyavinces it's even considered kitten abuse

#discourse #cant believe "kitten abuse is bad" is controversial now

32,456 notes

🍃 naturalliving Follow

BORN TO DIE

WORLD IS A FUCK

猫神 Kill Em All 1989

I am trash cat

410,757,864,530 DEAD BIRDS

#outdoorliving #outdoorcats please interact #outdoorcat friendly

48,971 notes

🎣 salmonpurina Follow

can't believe cats are uncritically reblogging that born to die world is a fuck post. i know it's funny but op is literally an outdoor cat truther

#like cmon now you just have to go to their blog #lulu speaks

34 notes

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

gentle reminder that pushing cups off the table is not cute and can cause a lot of distress in your human!!!! gentle reminder that our teeth and claws can easily hurt them more than they can hurt us!!!!

🐰 evil-tabbystripes Follow

evil reminder that the cup should always be pushed off the table. evil reminder that you should always bite and claw at your human no matter what. you can do whatever you want forever

💀 tabbystripes-deactivated098712

make your own pawst

💀 laser-point-deactivated8574721

umm i know a tomcat who did that and his human ended up putting him down so...

👬🏻 nyasunaruenjoyer Follow

Nyaverage shelter cat behavior

#not nyaruto #re-nyab #pickles shut up

545,460 notes

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

saw two male cats sleeping together on the porch today. homeow behavior imo

💡 discourse-meows Follow

hey um what the fuck??? it's really not okay of you to go assuming other cat's sexualities, especially cats you don't even know???? as a queer cat i'm VERYY uncomfortable. real-ass cats didn't consent to your nyaoi fetish, thanks

🌈 nyaoi-warrior Follow

1. i was making. a joak

2. i'm literally gay???

#literally what's your pawblem

7 notes

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

reblog if you've ever caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

i know you fuckers are lying

🍭 gaykittens Follow

this tom hasn't caught the laser pointer

🎩 amazingcatshow12 Follow

shut the heull up

988,653 notes

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

grey toebeans >>>>>>>>> pink toebeans and don't let the haters make you believe otherwise

🐁 ladymouser Follow

op shut the fuck up ALL toebeans are beautiful!!! just bc you're miserable and insecure doesn't mean you can bring others down based on things they can't control

🐾 b-e-a-n-t-o-e-s Follow

oh so the cat-human separationist wants to preach to us

[tulpanya]

you have something on your lips— mine!

includes : (mouthwashing) anya, curly, daisuke, swansea.

summary : the tulpar crew & kisses.

warnings : gn! reader.

ANYA

Kisses so softly, as if she's scared to hurt you

Her kisses are pretty chaste, especially in public (she gets flustered very easily with pda)

Her lips are usually chapped because of how often she bites/licks them. On the bright side, she loves wearing flavored chapstick.

"Hmm, is it sundae?" Anya's eyes widen in surprise at your answer, which is astonishingly correct. She touches her lips, before eyeing you suspiciously.

"Did you see me apply it?" She asks, wondering if you've begun to cheat in your little game of 'guess-that-chapstick!' but you just puff out your chest in pride, chuckling to yourself as if the answer was obvious.

"My dear, dear Anya, are you that surprised? I just know you that well, I've memorized all your chapstick flavors by now~"

She buys a new chapstick flavor to mess with you next time you kiss her.

Anya is a total sucker for forehead kisses, if you kiss her forehead she'll melt instantly!

It's also a quick way to calm her worried thoughts or to lure her away from the stress of her work. Just one peck on the forehead and she's better!

Of course one of her favorite way to kiss you is by kissing your boo-boos better.

Perhaps you even get (minorly) injured on purpose, just so she'll have an excuse to kiss you.

"It's just a papercut." Anya says as she inspects the thin slice on the tip of your pointer finger. You huff, shaking your head.

"But it huuurts!" You complain, amping up the dramatics to see her roll her eyes at you. She sighs, turning to fetch her first aid kit. She comes back with a bandage.

"I guess I'll have to patch it up then." She says, wrapping the band-aid around your finger. You wiggle your finger, impatiently waiting for the final part of her treatment. She bites back a giggle as she presses a kiss to the band-aid. "How's it feel now?"

"Much better~"

CURLY

Kisses you like it's the first time and last time every. single. time. he's so passionate about his kisses with you- it's all or nothing!

Cups your face with both hands, kissing your nearly breathless, and when you pull away he always chases after your lips.

That being said, he's also painfully shy about pda, and get's a little flustered if you ask for one in public- but he definitely won't say no! He'll just plan a little revenge ("revenge" being an attack of kisses when you both get home).

"Honey," You coo, the sickeningly sweet pet name catching his attention like a dog being told it's time for a walk. You two were out walking around, shopping, when you decided to tease him a little bit. "Can I have a kiss?" He blinks a few times, before swallowing thickly.

"Right now?" There was already a flush on his ears, slowly creeping down to his cheeks. When you nod in confirmation, he'll take a step towards you, gently cup your face and press a kiss to your lips. When he pulls away, the blush has reached down to his chest. "Was that okay?"

Curly was answered by your giggles, and that's when he realized you did it just to tease him. He groans, "Laugh now, 'cause I'll be getting my revenge later." A lighthearted threat that you're sure will end just as sweetly as his kiss earlier.

Curly is a big fan of a good ol' back of the hand kiss too, especially when you two are out on a date or he's feeling particularly sappy.

One of his favorite things is when he's let his scruff grow out nicely, and you get tickled by it.

He's literally a menace, the second a giggle escapes you and he's reminded that it tickles you it's game over, good luck~

"P- Please!" You wheeze, begging, for a chance to breath, but Curly is having the time of his life hearing your laughter. Nuzzling his scruff against the junction of your neck and shoulder.

"'m just kissing you," He murmurs against your skin, "I don't understand why you're laughin'?" However when you threaten to take away kissing privileges he quickly pulls away, although a small pout on his face.

You'll have to push his face away, or else those baby blues will definitely make your defenses falter. "I... I'm serious, don't try anything else, 'kay?"

DAISUKE

One word: Addicted. Daisuke is addicted to your lips and he'd gladly let your lips suffocate him!

Will literally whine if you pull away, please just a few more- what? you two have work to do? just... just one more? He'll use his ultimate weapon: His big brown puppy-dog eyes!

Has a bad habit of murmuring praise about your lips when you two kiss.

"Your lips are so soft," Daisuke mumbles against your lips, lost in pure bliss at the feeling of your lips against his own, "how are they always so soft," he shudders when you let out a annoyed sigh.

"Daisuke," You try to interrupt, but he just keeps on murmuring your praises, doesn't even notice that you've pulled away and are now watching him babble on about how sweet you taste and how soft your lips are and how he loves how you let him kiss you and ho-

"Huh? wait-" He finally blinks his eyes open only for you to bite back a laugh at his confused expression. Composing yourself, you give him a pointed look.

"Daisuke, stop talking."

"O-Oh, yeah, okay," he nods, breathless, before gladly continuing the little makeout session.

He tastes like mango, perhaps it's his chapstick or perhaps he just eats a lot of mango but he 100% taste like mango!

Here is a little warning: Daisuke is weak to your kisses, and if you ever offer a kiss as a reward for him doing a task or something...

Well let's just say you'll have one eager man running around completing tasks and doing errands and showing up in between each one for a sweet kiss as a reward~

"Daisuke, this is getting out of hand," You say more to yourself than to him, looking at the monster you've created. He is currently trying to fix a pipe (much to the dismay of Swansea) in hopes of getting a kiss.

"Hm? What'd you say?" You wave your hand dismissively, offering a sympathetic smile.

"Nothing, don't worry about it," You might have to slowly ween him off your kisses.

SWANSEA

Claims he "doesn't need" such affections, but whenever you forget to give him a 'good morning' kiss he is 10x more grouchy throughout the day.

Won't accept any form of PDA, but in private he is actually such a sweetie, and loves giving and receiving affection.

Especially in the early mornings or right before bed, he'll gently kiss the palm of your hand, then your wrist, before capturing your lips. This is an essential part of your routine.

Swansea is relaxed on the bed, grumbling about what a hard day he had, when you enter the room. The stressors of the day slowly melt away from his mind as you approach the bed. "'m sorry you had such a bad day," You cup his cheek, but he shakes his head, leaning into your warmth.

"'s fine, with you now," he mutters, turning to press a kiss to your palm, before moving his lips to your wrist. His eyes flutter open, and it's clear he's hungry for more- he wants your lips. His hands find your body, gently pulling you closer to him.

No words are said as your lips meet, no words are really needed for the rest of the night.

(On the Tulpar) If he's being grumpier than usual, any of the crew (but particularly Daisuke) will find you and beg you to "talk" to him. You'll go into the room, and come out a few seconds later, and it's like Swansea is a different person. (Literally one kiss smh)

Likes when you kiss his cheek, secretly makes his heart beat a little faster. He'll grumble you're not good for his heart when you sneak up and kiss his cheek.

Actually he does get nervous sometimes because it can't be normal to still get heart palpitations from little kisses like that.

It was a simple kiss in passing, on your way towards the kitchen to prep for dinner, a quick peck to the corner of his lips, but it was enough to make him freeze at first. It takes him a second to recover, before he's clutching at his chest.

"The hell..." He grumbles, before looking up, his eyes following your figure. "Ya gotta warn a guy before you do somethin' like that!" He hollers, but you just wave your hand dismissively, a smirk on your features.

"Yeah, yeah, old man- when'll you get used to it, hmm?" Probably never, but he hopes that doesn't deter your future attempts.

Thank you for reading! I hope you enjoyed!

[meganegatari]

before you read ▪︎ loose continuation to THIS

ultra loser!ellie x teasing(slightly sadistic tbh)!reader. reads fine as a standalone!! no fr sex, but still nsfw!!! loads of teasing, ellie's shy and flustered (also gave her glasses and piercings muahahah AND HAPPY TRAIL MENTION YAYYY), reader's a little insistent (but it's ok), mentions of masturbation, discussion of sex, REALLY horny making out at the end lol, heavy petting, they almost do it, tiny abby cameo, buildup AS PER USUAL YALL KNOW THE DRILL, kinda cliffhanger ending (its on purpose HAHA), different layout bc i cheated n looked at the poll oops...NGL TS HAD ME SWEATINGGG WRITING IT LMFAO don't think i have ever written something more horny....ok enjoy! + 2.2k wc

apparently both of you missed the professor's class cancellation email on this fateful day… other students showed up too, but they left quickly after seeing it was empty. ellie stayed to catch up on some work, enjoying the silence and typing away on her laptop, which looked like one of those beefy gaming computers.

covered in stickers and the keys changing color, you thought it was interesting she'd lug that thing around campus with her, instead of opting for something light and sleek. and now that leaves you. you had no other plans for the day, and had already mentally prepared yourself for this class, totally unaware it was canceled.

you realized it wasn't a bad idea to copy ellie, and catch up on some of your own work. however you were more intrigued by her, to be totally honest with yourself.

watching her from a distance, she captivated you. she never seemed to notice your stares, too absorbed in her thoughts. you watched her type, efficiently and quickly, pausing only to push her glasses further up her nose with her slim fingers.

the truth is, she's hot. but no one was hearing you out on that, unfortunately. they'd say to you, “what a loser! i don't think i've ever heard her talk.”

you felt overwhelmed by the urge to strike up a real conversation with her—more that simple greetings or coursework questions— and it was the perfect opportunity to do just that. so you got up, sat yourself down in the empty spot right next to her, and put on the most charming grin you could muster up. she abruptly snapped out of her focus, almost flinching at your presence.

“hey! you're ellie, right? whatcha working on?” you got close to her to see, being met with a bunch of hieroglyphic-looking strings of symbols on the screen. woah, smarty-pants. “um, it's just…some project, i dunno. how d’you know my name?”

she finally looked at you, her eyes round, wider than the ufo saucer stickers on the back of her computer. they were so green, the hazel ring reminded you of a polished agate stone. the scattered freckles on her face were so pretty too, you'd never been close enough to her to really take notice. she nervously scanned your features, blotches of pink blush decorating the apples of her plump cheeks.

she was so cute, and noticing her evident shyness flipped a switch inside you, what if you messed with her a little?

you shrugged at her, “just seen you around. you're so mysterious.” you lilt, manipulating your tone to make it smoother on the ears, even containing hints of seduction if you dared.

she blushed a deeper raspberry shade and looked down at her hands, fidgeting with her rings. she was somehow getting more attractive by the second, your heart felt like it was about to burst.

“am i? never thought of it that way, you're funny.” she mumbles, her antsiness obvious. but you didn't wish to let up so soon, you were having a lot more fun flustering her than you'd ever care to admit, even wanting to see just how far you could push her.

“ooh, i love your rings. where did you get em?” “just…places. why are you asking me so many questions?” you sighed and rolled your eyes, “well, ellie. we both don't have anything else to do, gotta pass the time somehow. i wanna talk with you, is that okay?” she took a deep breath and nodded, visibly relaxing. she stretched out her arm to get rid of the tabs on her computer, close it, and put it in her bag, which is when you got a look at her forearm tattoo.

“also i'm obsessed with your tattoo, you have no idea how cool you are, how are girls not all over you?” you question, taking her wrist in your hands and examining the tattoo's intricate line work, tracing your fingertips over the pigment in her skin.

you heard her breathing change in tempo, quickening ever so slightly. but she didn't move her arm away, and let you continue. she took a second to respond. “um. thanks, i guess. i don't really know what you mean.” her voice cracked when she said the last part, igniting a flame inside you, one that you didn't know existed.

your mind wandered, you began wondering what she sounds like when she whimpers. was she really so starved of human contact you could mold her like putty, just with your fingers and tongue? you wanted to find out so badly, wanted to hear how she'd cry your name out if you fucked her into oblivion. was she a squirter or a creamer? you hoped to the heavens above you'd get to find out someday. maybe it was too much to fantasize like this, considering you formally met just now, but you weren't hurting anyone if it all never left the confines of your mind.

you were lucky you hid your own arousal well, nothing out of the ordinary showed on your face whatsoever. ellie wasn't so lucky—to her dismay, but to your delight—everything played out on her delicate features so clearly, it was nothing short of delectable. 

your eyes bore into hers, the intensity of the eye contact making her shiver, and attempt to break it. “ellie, ellie, ellie, may i call you els?” you didn't wait for an answer, and continued, “do you have a girlfriend?” you pouted your lips at her, feigning sadness as if her response was something you didn't already infer.

she was stuttering now, stumbling over her words, making less and less sense as the conversation went on. she was anxiously bouncing her leg, you could see her chest rising and falling, and her face had turned a lovely crimson color, it was so strong, the flush had spread down her neck and reached her ears, making her piercings stand out. good lord. 

“ahem- no, i don't have a girlfriend. actually never have, shocking i know.” she chuckles at her self-deprecating joke, and while her smile was enough to light up a room, you wanted to slap the doubt out of her. or rather, fuck it out of her. 

you exhaled loudly, “hahh, well isn't that a shame. you're so pretty, i'll just have to snatch you up for myself then.” she swallowed audibly, greatly taken aback. “sorry, what?” “oh, don't you know how much people love losers like you? tsk tsk tsk, you're so much hotter than you realize, i mean it, els. look at you! you've got these piercings, this tattoo, you're smarter than this whole class combined, seriously.” 

she just gaped at you, unable to process what she was hearing. no one had ever talked to her like this, it was only something she read about. and coming from you? this ethereal person who starred in all of her most intimate fantasies? she rubbed her eyes roughly, convinced she was hallucinating. her mouth opened and closed dumbly, her voice box failing to produce any sound. but you were affecting her so much, especially because she lusted after you to an extent she could only take to the grave.

flashes of her midnight escapades flickered in her mind, of her shoving her hand down her pants like an animal in heat, orgasming so intensely she'd black out, abusing her hole with nothing but images of you playing in her mind, and your name on her tongue. her cheeks burned with the embarrassment of her wild actions, and she shook her head to clear the thoughts away. 

you groaned and leaned back in your own seat, exclaiming, “god i'm so bored. and pent up, fuck. it's been so long since i had sex…” that was true. in any other situation you'd never say something like that aloud, but because you were alone with the clueless idiot you wanted so carnally, you let it slip. 

“...maybe you should take care of that.” you heard her cough out, her voice coming out strangled. “i could. but that's boring.” you opened your eyes again and smirked devilishly her way, poor girl looked like she was about to go on a trip with the ferryman. 

you grabbed her hand, examining it some more, commenting, “you play guitar, don't you? guitarists are very good with their hands, i will say.” you played with her hand, pressing it into a fist, then extending her middle and ring finger. gosh, what's gotten into you? “i bet you're sooo good.” 

you've never seen a person look more flustered than she did right now in this moment. her voice was impossibly quiet, barely above a whisper, “cut it out.” “okay, fine.”

some beats of silence passed, but a thought crossed your mind. if she really hated this interaction that much, she could have got up and left eons ago, yet she stayed here and endured it all. hmm. you blurted out, “els, have you kissed anyone before?” 

and again she stayed silent, even after you waited patiently for an answer. she kept looking away, her jaw tense. 

you decided to quit the teasing just for a moment, and speak to her gently, genuinely. you shifted to sit a little closer to her and asked, “do you want to?” her gaze locked onto your mouth, she licked her lips, then muttered, “if you're really offering and not just fucking with me, sure-” 

your patience broke and you didn't wait for her to finish her sentence before swiftly leaning forward and connecting your lips with hers, relishing the tiny gasp she made as soon as you did it. she tasted like a dream.

after a split second she kissed you back, it was inexperienced and clumsy, fueled by adrenaline, but she got into a rhythm soon enough. you took the lead and deepened the kiss, absent-mindedly tugging on her bottom lip with your teeth, coaxing eager whimpers out of her, pure music to your ears.

you succumbed to the sensations and increased the pace, your tongue dancing against hers. you felt her hands fumble by your waist, and she pulled you closer to her. your hands clawed at her chest, the beautiful symphony of panting, the wet smacking of your lips colliding, and her uncontrolled moans filled the empty room.

she gripped your waist so tightly, fingertips surely leaving small marks in their wake, you couldn't wait to find them later, and you shamelessly felt up her chest, your thumbs finding her nipples—perky, hard, and poking out through her thin shirt. you caressed and rubbed and squeezed, feeling her jolt under your magical touch.

she was fully whining now. spilling needy, high-pitched sounds, this was better than you could've ever imagined. neither one of you breaking the kiss for even a second, your hand trailed lower and landed on her stomach, slipping under the bottom of her shirt. you felt her defined abs tensing, and the whisper of a happy trail—now it was your turn to moan.

she got even louder and her kisses got sloppier, and you were about to venture inside her waistband before a sudden sound startled you both. 

your phone vibrated aggressively, and with great effort you separated yourself from ellie, long strings of spit connecting you to her still.

she whimpered from the loss of contact, chasing your lips, then huffing and quietly groaning while you took out your phone, her hands not letting go of your waist. when you checked it, it was a message from your friend, abby, just saying: URGENT. COME HERE NOW. ASAP.

fuck her. fuck her and her timing, was all you could think. really, now? you wanted to kill her.

trying to slow your breathing and racing heart, you explained apologetically, “ugh, it's urgent. im so, so sorry ellie, i gotta go.” she stared at you, speechless, but nodded meekly, reluctantly retracting her arms. you didn't want to leave, and stayed gazing at her for a little longer, and brushed a loose strand of soft hair out of her face. what a cutie, she looked all disheveled and dazed. you were about to look for a paper to scribble down your number to keep in touch, until your phone buzzed again, and started ringing with abby's repeated attempts to get ahold of you. couldn't she wait a minute?

you gave ellie one last devastated look, getting up and rushing out of the classroom before abby called you another seventeen times. 

ellie was left in the classroom, reeling from the encounter and what it had turned into. she was utterly bewildered at the events that transpired, her blood rushing in her ears, mind spinning, lips still puffy, glasses fogged over, hands trembling, and of course a sticky, uncomfortable damp spot in her boxers. she leaned forward to rest her head on the desk in front of her on top of crossed arms, to take a moment to cool down before escaping back to her place. 

“holy shit.” 

im horny🧍‍♂️just like ellie after that. as soon as she got home, u best believe she came so hard she saw literal angels and deities LMFAOO (this is my favorite thing ive ever written gawdDAYUM)

yall who wanted more, hope this suffices as a continuation! @stonerzdaze420692 @womenlvrrr

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

If you're ready, all I mean is we could go, I've never craved someone's attention as much as yours.

General Warnings: an almost unbearable amount of sarcasm and snark, even more idiotic shenanigans, many affectionate empty threats of murder/violence, fluff, mentions of golf 🤢, cursing and I'm pretty sure that's it for this half

A/N: in line with the general consensus lmao this has been split, part two will be posted as soon as it's finished (lol) but it's best read as one whole fic, it isn't a multi-part situation really!! it was originally supposed to be my submission for the eras tour fic challenge (hence the graphic I'm too attached to to change) but took a different direction to the song I was given, and I missed the deadline, and I pretty much listened to the secret of us exclusively while writing this whole thing. also dropping an overwhelmingly summery fic in december might actually be my brand. keep your eyes peeled for a christmas fic in july.

very special shoutout to shea @sleepretreat I made a random comment one day that luke gives seth cohen energy, and she fanned that flame like a full time job. ily shea!! I hope this lives up to any expectations and I owe a lot to your instigating!!

AS ALWAYS!!! never proofread!! I'll probably get around to it when the thought of a spelling mistake keeps me awake at night. and also!! please let me know what you think I am like a teeny tiny little plant that can only thrive under the constant shower of validation and you don't want me to wither and die do you? (I’m kidding) (I’m not)

You kind of, sort of, think you might hate summer.

You haven’t always felt this way, though. Growing up, it had always been your favourite time of the year. 

No school? Check.

Going on vacation, sometimes multiple, all expenses covered by your parents? Double check.

Getting to do all the cool things you don’t have time for in the school year with all your friends? Concerts, festivals, beach days, bonfires on the evenings. Check, check and check again.

But 4 years ago, your whole world as you knew it was torn apart, and summers have never been the same, since.

A season that was once filled with light and companionship, never ending plans and joviality, became darker - isolated, getting yourself out of the house even if everyone else was busy, driving just to drive and making the best of your own company. 

School ended up becoming your escape, especially since you had started college - your studies and the chaos of Greek life distracting you from the calamitous state of your home life, making new friends that became like family and sticking to them like glue, where possible, clingy and possessive to the point of ruin, almost - and so the lack of it in the summers now actually sends you into some sort of warped spiral.

It’s manageable in the winter and spring, the breaks no longer than a few weeks at a time, but going home for summer is somewhat of a nightmare.

It’s hard to go back, hard to ignore the mess your mind has become when it’s just you and your mother - or, you, your mother and whatever bottle of pinot she’s 3 glasses deep into at any given time of the day - and you’re sat in a house that’s a cold reminder of the warmth that once filled it. 

But when Ellie - your best friend since moving to college, the girl who took the sister part of sorority sister to the next level at all possible opportunities over the years - found out you’d put your name down to be the caretaker for your sorority house instead of going home, she had put her foot down on your summertime sadness session.

Which is how you end up moving into her family home - spending the first few weeks integrating yourself into their routine while trying to grip desperately onto some form of your own - trying not to get too used to the feeling of such a big family when you know it won’t be forever.

You braid her little sister’s hair everyday, kick a soccer ball around with her little brother when he needs someone to stand in goal, wash the dishes with her mom, talk sports with her dad, and before long, you blend like a chameleon into their dynamic.

You pick up a summer job at the country club to cling back onto your independence. Your commute provides the solitude and quiet you‘ve grown accustomed to in the years before, a bus journey through town with headphones on, watching the scenery and admiring the greenery until you get to work, donning your navy blue polo and tucking your little notepad into your hip apron as you serve tables at the clubhouse restaurant and bar. 

It’s a much needed escape from Ellie, if you’re honest.

You love that girl with all your heart, appreciate her housing you more than you’ll ever be able to say, but if you have to hear her sit and mope about how hopelessly in love she is with Jack Hughes for even a second longer, you’re going to vomit. Or scream. Or both.

Jack and Ellie grew up together - their families close, Ellie’s dad best friends with Jack’s uncle, or something - and she’s been into him since he had teeth missing - a point she loves to hammer home when it comes to you always listing that as one of his (many, if it’s up to you) cons. Considering his job, and the fact he already lost one, not too long ago, a toothless boyfriend seems like a massive ick, if you’re honest. 

But Ellie is beyond reason when it comes to him. She worships the ground he walks on - talks about him non-stop, messages him every day, regales you with stories you, awfully, but realistically, couldn’t care less about - and it’s the only real problem about living with her.

Even beyond the summer, you two had shared a room your first two years in college, still live in the same house - and it’s a year round problem.

But being unable to escape, having your days tied to close to hers, and knowing that it’s bound to be worse with proximity, Jack back in Michigan for the summer, himself, she’s starting to drive you up the wall.

It wouldn’t bother you if you had never met Jack, but the two of you don’t exactly get along. He’s rude, and self-absorbed, and had looked down on you the first time he ever laid eyes on you, and you really shouldn’t let it get to you, but you do - the thought that your best friend is in love with an asshole, and that she won’t let you hear the end of it. 

Won’t stop whining about how he’ll never feel the same, or that she can’t handle another summer of biting her tongue, of being around him, feeling the way she does, and not being able to do anything about it.

She deserves better. 

Ellie has a heart of gold, and she deserves someone who handles it with care. If Jack Hughes doesn’t like her back, that’s his loss - but you’re kind of getting sick of telling her that.

Getting through a whole summer of it is going to be hard, you think, but it’s better than the alternative. Better than being entirely alone. So you put on a brave face, use work as your escape in the same way you usually do with school, and avoid blowing your top for as long as you can, suffering through the late nights and heart to hearts where Jack is the sole topic of discussion, and bask in the good stuff.

In the chaos of her siblings, in the closeness of her family, and the way they’ve welcomed you with open arms.

This summer could be okay, you’ve just got to give it a chance. 

Luke Hughes loves summer.

He loves being back home in Michigan, spending his days out on the lake, or making the trip out to parade around Ann Arbor, catching up with all his college buddies, making the rounds at all the UMich sporting events he now gets a VIP pass to thanks to his last name.

The routine of it all is familiar, and warming, and it restores a sense of normality that playing in the NHL for the past year has so brutally ripped from him, already. 

He had enjoyed starting his summer overseas - making the team for the world championships and competing beyond the abysmal end to his rookie season - had enjoyed the time away from his brothers, if he’s honest. Quinn and the Canucks making it a few rounds into the playoffs, and Jack back home recovering from getting surgery on his shoulder - and it’s the latter he needed the reprieve from.

He does love living with his brother.

Jack looks after him in ways he’ll never really be able to make it up to him for. He always has, Quinn has too, but ever since Luke got drafted to the Devils, Jack has helped him adjust to the chaos of his career without much fuss or hardship.

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

Especially when it comes to his infatuation with his best friend, Ellie.

Jack and Ellie have always been close - despite the fact she’s Luke’s age - and grew up thick as thieves, spending summers together, especially when the family moved to Michigan, and Ellie’s family were just on the other side of town. 

He’s always been obsessed with her, even if it hasn’t always been love - but these last few years have been different. Like a switch flipped in his head when Jack saw what Ellie was like when he came to visit Luke in his freshman year of college.

A version of Ellie that was no longer just his - no longer exclusive to their summer bubble, and lived in a world beyond lounging by the lake and hanging out with the Hughes family.

A version of Ellie who liked partying, liked schmoozing and charming everybody she came into contact with, liked being the centre of everyone else’s attention, not just Jack’s.

And it’s that version of Ellie that has driven Luke’s brother crazy, which has, in turn, started to drive Luke crazy. He talks about her non-stop, and it was those much needed weeks away in Czechia that almost had Luke forgetting just how stupid his brother has gotten about the whole thing.

Until he came home to Michigan, and Jack, in all the commotion with his shoulder, with ending his season early and starting his summer off alone, has worked himself into such a stupor about the whole thing that merely a week into his return, he has driven Luke up the wall. 

He’s grumpy, all the time - which leads to him being snarky, all the time. He huffs and puffs around the house so much Luke is starting to think he might need an inhaler, and he really can’t take any more.

Not when he’s making such a show of his irritation, stomping around with heavy feet and slamming doors that don’t need to be shut in the first place. 

“What crawled up your ass and died there?” Luke frowns as he follows Jack into the kitchen upon his return from therapy, holding out for the doors he swings open with a little too much vigour so that they don’t swing back into his brother’s slinged-shoulder. “I thought the physio is going alright?”

“It is,” Jack huffs, storming over to the fridge and yanking it open, the jars and bottles in the door clanking together in a way that makes Luke cringe. “I’m fine.”

“Tell that to all the hinges you’re testing the limits of.” 

“Don’t start with me, Luke, I’m not in the mood.”

“You just said you’re fine.” Luke rolls his eyes as he starts to scroll through his group chat with his friends from college, trying to check who said they might be free today to get him out of this vicious circle.

“It’s nothing.”

“Clearly not.” It’s interactions like this that confirm to Luke just how annoying Jack has become - because what reason does he have to be so evasive? Luke is handing him the opportunity to air out his grievances on a silver platter, and he’s rather slam cupboards and create creases in his forehead from frowning 24/7.

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

Luke wishes he never bothered asking, although he has been wondering why he’s been seeing way less of her already this summer. He had figured Ellie was away with family until he saw her at the gas station the other night - had watched from the car as Jack had what seemed like a heated conversation by the entrance. 

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

“Has she said why?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t really care. He’s just asking to get it out of the way in the hopes that Jack talking about it might lighten the load, might make his own life a little easier. 

It’s the bitter muttering of your name that captures Luke’s full attention, his neck audibly cracking at the speed in which his head shoots up, no longer caring what could possibly be going on with the boys in the group chat. 

“She isn’t going back to whatever fiery hell pit it is that she comes from for the summer, and she’s staying with Ellie’s family, therefore Ellie isn’t staying with us.”

Luke hasn’t heard your name in a while. Not since he left college last year, not since he got caught up in the whirlwind life in the NHL, when a schoolboy crush on a girl he interacted with once in his entire college career became the least of his worries.

But one utterance of it has his spine straightening, just like it would have done just over a year ago.

You’re in Michigan. You’re at Ellie’s, on the other side of town. You’re barely two degrees of separation from him.

“Why can’t Ellie bring her here?” Luke asks, throat dry and voice breaking so subtly that he hopes Jack doesn’t notice. That could be fun. Would make up for the hell his brother has been putting him through since he got here. 

Maybe a little glorious sunshine might finally get you to notice his existence. He wouldn’t mind third wheeling Jack and Ellie if you were there, too. It would give him the perfect opportunity to prove he’s worthy of your attention - too shy and too scared to do so, back in college, but he’s different, now. Confident, almost. More sure of himself.

“She hates me.” Jack huffs, “Last time we met she was giving me the stink eye all night.”

And of course it would be his brother to ruin his plans, yet again. You’ll probably hate him, too - a hatred so strong for Jack that it seeps through his entire bloodline, because Luke of all people knows he can be annoying like that. 

“Trust me, she probably doesn’t care enough to hate you,” Luke scoffs, not realising the spool of information he’s just given Jack to unravel. 

“You know her?”

“We had a class together. I know of her.”

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

Luke knows a lot about you. It’s borderline creepy, the observations he can still remember, even after so long.

He knows you like only like coffee if it’s iced, had seen you with too many clear plastic cups to count, had watched plump lips chewing at straws by the time you had finished the drink. He had even, one time, tried to zoom in on a picture of your order printed on the side in one of his many states of delusion where he had been trying to build himself up to ask you out. 

He knows you can hold your own in an argument, had watched you debate with the best of them in your business comms class, has watched you shoot down most guys that approach you with a sharp tongue and even sharper wit, and has watched you take down a frat guy or two, usually in defence of your sorority sisters - who Luke noticed you’re the most protective of. 

He knows you match your perfume to the colour of your outfit, had notice you smelled citrusy like lemons in yellow, floral like roses in pink, sweet like candy in purple, and clean like fresh cotton in blue. 

He knows the pieces of hair that frame your face curl when wet from the rain. Knows you used to volunteer at the pool on the weekends it was open to the kids of the community, would teach them how to swim. He knows you listen to Taylor Swift and has heard you humming just about every song of hers he knows.

But he doesn’t really know you - not on the level Jack is assuming, when his eyes widen and hope flashes across his crystal irises.

“You know how I’m your favourite brother?”

“No,”

“And I let you live with me all year?”

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

Luke sighs, shoulders heavy and eyes rolling practically to the back of his head. “I already told you, I don’t really know her like that.” 

“C’mon, you could at least try! I’m dying here, Luke! She’s hogging all of Ellie’s time, and she won’t give me the time of day if I try!”

If only Jack knew how much time you’d ever given Luke, he wouldn’t be asking him such an absurd request.

You’re so out of his league, it isn’t even funny. He probably couldn’t convince you to light a candle in a power cut, much less to give his annoying brother a shot to prove himself.

“You’re wasting your time, Jack,” Luke responds, “I’m gonna meet Dylan at the club. No, you can’t come.”

And by the time Luke makes it out to his car, he’s relieved to have ditched that conversation, entirely. He knows what’s waiting when he gets home, what his brother is going to be like for the next few months to come, but a temporary relief is all he needs.

He had already been planning on getting a few late morning holes in at the club, and meeting up with Dylan had been a white lie, needing some alone time away from Jack’s incessant whining to think about how he was going to survive the summer - and seeing you on your break, perched on the edge of the fountain in the courtyard by the clubhouse bar, basking in the sun and talking with your co-worker, he feels like he might have just struck gold.

Since when do you work here?

He supposes since you decided to spend your summer with Ellie’s family - it only makes sense. Ellie doesn’t live too far from the club - not as close as the lake house, but closer than Ann Arbor, at least. She’d worked in the club shop last summer, even when Jack insisted he’d pay for whatever she needed while she was staying with them - had said it was nice to pass the time with something else while they all went off doing whatever - and he assumes you’re doing the same. 

It’s the first time he’s seen you in a while, outside of coming across your pictures on his Instagram feed occasionally, or the flash of your figure in Ellie’s stories. 

He had thought that, after the year he’s had, he’d be over schoolboy crushes like this - would be over the way his breath catches just at the sight of you, over the way the hairs on the back of his neck prick up and stand to attention, over the way his throat goes dry as he watches your eyes crinkle from afar, watches your lips curve up into a heart-stopping grin.

But it’s like he’s picked up straight from where he left off at the end of his college career, pining after you from afar with hearts in his eyes and feet that start to shuffle at just the thought of approaching you.

If he’s going to do this, though, he needs to be clever about it, he thinks.

Approaching you on your break, limited to the amount of time he can use to put his point across, wasting yours, doesn’t seem like something that will work.

Which is how he finds himself bypassing you completely and walking straight into the bar, offering a friendly nod to the guy stood at the front of house, and letting him point him toward the right section to be served in. 

It isn’t long before you’re in front of him, sidling up to his booth, and he had almost forgotten how pretty you are up close. Hair clipped up with loose strands framing your face, chewing at your plump bottom lip as you scribble on your notepad to get your pen to work. And your honeyed voice settling deep in the pit of his stomach, warmth spreading throughout as you introduce yourself, like he has no clue who you are, and tell him you’ll be his server, “What can I get for you?”

“Five minutes of your time?”

The Luke that spent his college years obsessing over you might have stuttered - his voice might have broke, squeaked or choked in your presence - but while his throat does feel a little dry, he’s able to maintain his cool now, even when you look up from your scribblings to meet his eye. Maybe he can do this. Maybe he has matured.

His heart might jump in his chest, his mouth might tingle, his spine might stiffen, but he holds your gaze, hoping if you see a reflection of confidence that you might give him the time of day.

He’s seen you interact with guys before, has familiarised himself with the ten-foot walls you have in place, has seen others fold and try find a long way around, but he thinks that maybe matching your energy is the way to break through. 

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

Your eyes narrow back at him as pouted lips form around a response, looking him up and down before tilting your head, and coming back with, “I all of a sudden feel the need to inform you we do have security here,” you point the tip of your pen to the entrance, where he was greeted on the way in. “I meant a drink.”

“Water’s fine,” his gaze flickers to the movement of your wrist as you click the other side of your pen, not even writing it down. “Maybe with a side of conversation?”

“I’ll go get your water,” you offer a smile, and the insincerity of it does little to cool his bravado, even if you head off with mutterings of why do I always get the creeps?

He watches you as you make your way over to the bar, not creep-like whatsoever, and he channels the nerves that sneak up on him, now that you’re distanced, through fiddling with his fingers on the table, pinching at the tips of them when you glance back over your shoulder, probably telling the girl behind the bar just how lucky you were to once again get the weirdo in your section.

It surprises him how little he cares, possessing more of your attention now than he ever has before, and if he could tell the Luke from two years ago, who spent every shared Principles of Marketing class ritualistically watching you chew on the end of your pen, that he’d be able to make eye contact without dribbling and breaking out into full body sweats, he’d have lost his mind.

He embodies a strange level of dislocated arrogance that manifests itself in his body language, sinking into the booth with arms outstretched across the back, a dangerous smirk teasing the corner of his mouth when you return, placing a pitcher of water down on the table and a glass with ice. 

“I’m Luke,” he tells you, placing a hand on his chest and doing his best to ignore the thudding he feels beneath it. “Hughes. Jack’s brother,” and when you look back over to him with a raised brow, he adds, “Ellie’s Jack.”

“And who’s Ellie?” You ask with a tilt of your head, your voice dripping in teasing sarcasm. 

“Funny,” he quips, biting back the urge to call you what he actually means. He can hardly call you cute, you’d probably pour that water straight over him. “I went to UMich, we had a couple classes together.”

Your eyes narrow again, and he knows it’s an intimidation tactic, a way to make him feel smaller than he’s acting, shrinking him down to a version of himself you can stamp your authority on, but he finds himself being resilient for once, carrying on like he isn’t affected.

He is. Massively, in fact. Just not in the way you probably want. Your indifference drives him in a way that presses into his spine, an inner voice pleading, notice me, I’m breaking through!

“Bauman’s class, Business Comms, you sat in the second row, I sat in the third, you dropped your pencil one time and I-,”

“I know who you are.”

So he’s been yapping on at you for no reason? Fantastic.

He can’t let his momentum slip, though, so he forces the corners of his lips into a victorious smile, and counters, “So you know I’m not a creep.”

“You literally memorised my seat in a class from 2 years ago, so…” 

“I have a good memory,” he’s quick to defend, fighting the urge to let his eyes linger on your pouted lips.

“Right,” you roll your eyes, “What is it you want, again?”

“I came to talk about Jack and Ellie.” He nods to the other side of the booth, and has to roll his shoulders so that his chest doesn’t inflate with misplaced hubris when you shuffle into the seat with a huff, discarding your notepad to the side as you level him with another raised brow.

“What about ‘em?”

“About how they’re hopelessly in love with each other and doing nothing about it.”

“You got hopeless right. What’s that got to do with us?”

Us. Oh, he likes that.

“I’m thinking they need a little shove in the right direction. And maybe we could be the shovers.”

You presses your lips together in faux-apology, a lopsided, patronising, adorable frown taking over your expression. “No can do, I don’t shove, I’m a pacifist.”

“A nudge, then?”

He isn’t giving up easy, no matter how much sarcasm you try to throw his way. You wouldn’t have sat down if there wasn’t something about this situation that irks you, too.

If Ellie is being only half as annoying as Jack is, he knows that you’re having a bad time of it. And you’re supposed to spending her summer with her - it can’t be easy, having your friend constantly pining over someone and refusing to do anything about it, if anything, making it your problem.

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

“Both,” he smiles, “I just figured a problem shared is a problem solved, and all.”

“How profound.” 

“C’mon, you sat down, you at least agree they’re into each other, and I know you’re staying with her this year, so I know you’ve been getting the same grief I have.”

“I’ve been on my feet 4 hours, I wouldn’t look too deep into me sitting down.” 

“Jack’s been moping around about her for years, I can’t listen to it anymore, he’s all, she’ll never like me back, this, and, I’ll never find a girl like her, that,” he whines, imitating his brother’s voice in the most annoying, high pitched tone he can muster, “I can’t take one more breakdown of her snap stories, especially not if it’s all summer if she’s not gonna be staying over, I’m gonna lose my mind.”

“How supportive,” the sarcasm in your bite does little to hide the beginnings of your smile, your glare softening into what he hopes is the start of some sort of bond, a shared feeling of exasperation. Finding your footfall in common grounds.

“It’s relentless, we can’t go a single conversation anymore without him bringing her up,” he sighs, slumping into his seat, finally giving in to all the ways this is starting to grate on him. “I don’t get why neither of them do anything.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, too, relenting a little. “She talks about him so much it kind of makes me nauseous.”

“How supportive,” he mimics, nerve endings set alight when your eyes meet his over the table, and narrow in a different way, almost appreciative, almost respectable.

“Can it, Hughes,” you scoff, “Me even entertaining this conversation right now is support enough, I’ve had it in my ear for months about how she doesn’t know how she’ll make it through another summer.”

“That’s what I’m saying. If we can get them together this summer, then we’re both better off. No more whining or crying or earaches for either of us.”

“I’d hope you didn’t make your way out here with the mere promise of no more earaches, Luke.” He tries not to preen at the way you say his name. “What’s in it for me?”

“You and Ellie can stay at our lake house.” He suggests, straightening up before he leans onto the table, elbows extending so that he can rest on them, “It’s closer to the club than her family’s place, it’s gotta be better than having her siblings running around you all the time, I can even drive you to work when I’m free, if you want?”

You blink at him slowly, as if to say, and? “So I can stay at your glorified frat house, and you can be my chauffeur?” You ask with an unimpressed raise of your brow, before letting out a humourless scoff of, “What more could a girl want to do with her summer?

“What do you want?” He asks, leaning further forward.

“To go back to work and not worry about strange guys propositioning me, funnily enough.”

Luke laughs, a deep, breathy laugh that rises from the depths of his chest and comes alive in an almost-bark, and he doesn’t miss the way your eyes flicker to his mouth when it comes out.

This is fun. 

There’s no way he’s letting you leave this table without agreeing - just the thought of one more singular interaction keeping him on his toes.

“Why don’t we make it interesting, then?”

“It’s about time you tried.” The quiver of your lip tells him everything he needs to know - and that’s without the entertained glint in your eye that accompanies it. You’re enjoying this, just as much.

“We could make a competition out of it.”

“A competition?” You ask, with a curious tilt of your head.

There it is, he thinks. Interest: piqued. He practically has you in the palm of his hand. Who would ever have thought, the way to a sorority girl’s heart would be a friendly little wager?

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

It’s all he can think of in the moment - petulant and part-planned, but it seems to be enough.

“Wins what?” You lean onto your elbows, your gaze levelling his as he mirrors your positioning, having to slouch a little further forward in his seat to meet your pretty eyes. 

“Whatever you want.” He doesn’t intend it to come out as low as it does, doesn’t realise how close the two of you have gotten over the table, but he sees the flicker of something cross your features as your head tilts again, eyes still locked on his as yours begin to narrow, still just as pretty even when they’re glaring at him.

“It’s what you want that concerns me.”

“Don’t worry your pretty little head over it,” he jibes, watching the way your lips part in preparation of another witty comeback. “What do you say?” He asks, not giving you the chance, seeing the way it makes your skin crawl that you weren’t quick enough, for once. “Are you in?”

You heave out a sigh, shoulders slumping - a tell-tale sign that you’re about to acquiesce - and Luke starts to feel his chest puff out in victory. This feels like a shut-out. It feels like the best performance of his life. 

“You’re gonna make me regret this, aren’t you?”

“Oh definitely,” he smirks, eyes tracking you as you lean back into the booth, retreating from him in defeat, a hand running through your hair as he promises, “You’ll warm up to me soon enough, though.”

“I can’t see that happening.”

“I can,” he shrugs, leaning back too. “I’ve been told I’m inevitable.”

Luke can remember, like it was yesterday, the first time he ever saw you.

Freshman year, the week he moved into his dorm at Michigan, Jack had sent him across campus to check in on how Ellie was getting on. He had arrived with some extravagant gift basket in tow, plastic wrapped, a giant blue bow tied around the top and an assortment of snacks inside, and was left knocking for at least five minutes before you showed up.

“Please tell me you’re not another stripper-gram.”

If his throat hadn’t gone so dry all of a sudden, he thinks he would have had more wits about him to have questioned the use of another - a concept that had stuck in his head for weeks until he caught wind of a story of pledges for Pike being sent around campus and forced to lure girls to their house through way of humiliating song. 

But God, you were pretty. 

Siren eyes narrowed toward him, glossy lips pouted pensively, long lashes blinking impatiently as you awaited some kind of response that didn’t come in the form of an open, drooling mouth.

“I’m Luke.”

“Right.” You had sighed, pretty eyes rolling at him. “You’re blocking my door."

“Oh, I’m-,” he stuttered, immediately stepping to the side for you to come forward and insert your key into the lock. “Does Ellie live here?” He asked, confusion etched into his features as he watched you swing the door open, turning in your place to look him over again.

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

“I’ll make sure she gets it, thanks, Lu!”

And when you had taken the basket from his hands, he had been too distracted by the way your skin brushed against his to properly respond, or worry if you had called him that as a nickname or had already forgotten his name, entirely.

He then spent days thinking about you, looking for you - at parties, in the campus coffee shop, online, despite not knowing your name - trying to commit to memory the way your eyes had sparkled when looking his way, until his first Business Communications class.

He had been a little early, first week nerves playing out and his constant craving for positive validation coming to the forefront, and was watching the door waiting for the professor to arrive. He had been slouched in his seat, chin in the palm of his hand, foot tapping rhythmically against the floor, and he had almost given himself whiplash when you walked in. 

He learned your name from there, learned a lot just from watching you in that class, but never really captured your attention.

And if the Luke that has been driving you to work every few days, who has been living with you for the past two weeks - who sits around the same dining table, laughs at the same jokes cracked when you’re all lounging around the house, sits out under the same sun, drinks from the same carton of orange juice in the morning - could tell the Luke that sat pining after you all that time, all the little ways in which he’s captured your attention lately, he’d probably have an aneurysm. 

When you and Ellie moved in, Luke had been the only one allowed to touch your stuff - and there’s a part of him that knows it was mainly because you enjoyed watching him work like a packhorse, hauling your cases up the stairs and dropping them in front of you with a huff, but there’s a larger, more delusional part that thinks you preferred him to the others, maybe even trusted him.

He’s taking credit for how quick you’ve adapted to the dynamic of the house, too. Of all the different faces coming in and out - Quinn’s friends, Jack’s friends, his friends, sometimes even his parents. If you’re around, you’re pleasant. You abide by house rules, some of them stupid, but set by the brothers so long ago that they just work now - like no phones outside of your rooms so that you can be more present. You insert yourself comfortably into conversations, you form your own relationships with everyone - you and Quinn trade book recommendations, you and Jack bicker while Ellie mediates. You do your fare share of chores - laundry, dishes, cooking, even. 

And he’s so caught up in just sharing space, just being around you, even, that for those first couple weeks, he forgets why you even agreed to be there in the first place.

At least, he forgets the incentive part - because he watches mindlessly as you interfere in Jack and Ellie’s dynamic, without a care in the world for the fact that it means he’s losing.

He watches you push one of them out of the way to claim whatever seat at the table or in the car forces them to sit beside each other. He watches you taunt Jack to just the right point where Ellie interferes, coos at him protectively and he melts into her affections. He watches you agree to plans he knows you wouldn’t in a million years follow along with, just to get them together - and all he can do is admire how easy you make it seem. 

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though. 

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises. 

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now. 

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over. 

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.” 

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises. 

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan. 

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time. 

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off. 

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side. 

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour. 

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys. 

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball. 

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him. 

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand. 

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections. 

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him. 

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head. 

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.” 

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth. 

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip. 

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new. 

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club. 

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop. 

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants. 

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it. 

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store. 

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.” 

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased. 

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance. 

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius. 

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint. 

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut. 

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it. 

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows. 

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame. 

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening. 

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow. 

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt. 

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car. 

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features. 

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up. 

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere. 

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet. 

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You’ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely. 

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely. 

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then. 

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.  

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest. 

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV. 

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part. 

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar. 

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance. 

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other. 

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric. 

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees. 

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

[postracehair]

altitude

max verstappen x reader | 1.5k

you hate flying. but it's a necessity if you want to see max during the f1 season. when you finally fly home together during a break, will you let him help calm you down?

cw: r hates flying, anxiety, kissing, like, lots of kissing, worried max, allusions to more than kissing, fluff, george/carmen cameo

a/n: she's so me! i hate flying! but a girl's gotta do what a girl's gotta do! wrote this way back after brazil, but have it now as a race week gift.

--

Everything changes very quickly after you meet Max Verstappen.

You are pulled into a world of action and luxury all because he wants you there. And you go willingly because you want to be with him, too. How could you not? The world famous champion is a kind, funny, and sweet man who loves his cats, his friends, and, as is becoming clear, you.

Much of the start of your relationship is scheduling. A day here and there between races, dinners and walks and movies at his place or yours. You spend a lot of time in airports when you can, working on the go and white knuckling your way through flight after flight. It's worth it to see him on the other side.

Somehow, you've never actually travelled together.

Until now.

The race weekend ends the best way possible -- the top step of the podium. A night of celebrations fades into an early morning flight on a private jet and this time, you're coming with. Because Max has three weeks off. He'll have to work, of course, spending time in Milton Keynes before the final stretch of the season, but for the most part you're going to have him all to yourself.

It does not occur to you until you're in the car on the way to the tarmac that Max has no idea how much you hate flying. You're in one of those big Sprinter vans, head on Max's shoulder as he scrolls through his phone. George and Carmen sit on the other side, the former's head tipped back as he dozes. Everyone is quiet and you're working a bit hard to keep yourself calm.

"What is it?" Max whispers. He puts his phone down and you look over at him. His hair is a mess, you can see that much even in the low light of the van. You reach out and run a hand through it.

"What?" you whisper back.

He shakes his head a little and wraps his fingers around your wrist. "You were all loose and then you got tense."

The frequent distance between you and the busy nature of your schedules demands that communication be top of mind. You do not lie to each other about your feelings, and you do not hide things. Even things like this.

"I don't really like flying," you say, softly. "I've never told you because we've never flown together. It just makes me kind of anxious. I've never been able to shake it."

His brows furrow. "Really?"

"I'll be fine," you assure him. "Just, maybe hold my hand during takeoff and landing. And if there is any turbulence."

"But -- I don't understand. Are you afraid?"

You know that there is really no way to make him understand but also that he won't stop trying to. Max gets afraid, he gets nervous. He's only human. But he combats it with sheer willpower, focus, and skill.

"I fly this way all the time," he says, urgent this time. "It's totally safe."

"That's not -- Max, I just get nervous. It's not really to do with safety. I just don't really enjoy it."

"Oi," George says, rousing. "What are you two yapping about?"

"Go back to snoring, George," Max says, not taking his eyes off you.

"Do I really snore?" you hear him ask in a hushed tone. Carmen shushes him.

"Pulling up to the plane now, folks," the driver calls back.

"Seriously," Max says, sounding a little desperate. "It'll be alright."

"I know. I fly all the time, Max." His frown deepens.

"To come see me," he reminds you. "If I knew you didn't like it, I would have --"

"What?" you interrupt. "Invented teleportation? It's okay, Max. Knowing it's to see you makes the whole thing easier, honestly."

This does not satisfy him. You can tell. It's a problem he can't solve -- his least favorite kind. There is no simulation to run for this, no meeting he can talk through, no track he can circle a thousand times.

The van door opens and you're all beckoned out onto the tarmac. You follow George and Carmen with your bag and Max is at your heels, his duffle slung over one shoulder and his other hand on the small of your back. Normally, he's not this touchy, but he seems reluctant to let your conversation in the van go.

"Max--"

"I'm thinking, liefje."

You roll your eyes. "About how to invent teleportation?"

"Something like that," he grumbles.

The jet is narrow, an aisle on one side and four rows of seats on the other. Four sets of two, a table between them. Carmen and George settle into one nook and you toss your bags into another. You slide into the window seat and Max sits heavily in the one next to you, still frowning. You let him, instead looking around to absorb the new experience.

It's much nicer than a regular plane, that's for sure. There is a cooler stocked with drinks and a cabinet full of what seems to be snacks. You can stretch your legs to rest your feet on the seat across from you. It's so early you figure all of you will just sleep, though Max's mood seems at odds with that plan.

The pilot introduces herself and gives a quick rundown of the route and airtime. You all nod and smile and then the doors close and the lights dim.

Max's hand finds yours immediately. You sit up a little and look over at him. He looks even more frazzled than he did at the hotel, when you both rolled out of bed and into comfy clothes. Soft pants and a hoodie that make him look boyish, younger than he is. But here, his cheeks are a little flushed and his jaw is set like he's about to get in his race car.

"What do you do normally?" he asks, softly. You can hear George's soft snores already. "When I'm not there."

"Max," you sigh.

"Tell me, please?"

The seat shifts under you as it heads for the runway. You close your eyes and take a deep breath.

"Well, I don't hold some random guy's hand," you tease. He squeezes your palm and huffs. 

"He could be so lucky."

The plane comes to a stop and you know what happens next. Your mind remains preoccupied with Max -- a good thing, right now -- but your body tenses and you squeeze your eyes shut tighter as the engines kick up and you pick up speed.

Max says your name but you don't budge. "Liefje," he whispers, much closer than before. You can feel his breath on your cheek as he gently holds your chin with two fingers and turns your face towards him.

And then he's kissing you. A closed mouth press of his lips to yours, firm but still. At least until you sigh into it, releasing your death grip on the arm rest to reach for him blindly, your tangled fingers between you. The kiss deepens, his nose sliding against yours as you part your lips and the chaste press becomes more. Max's tongue licks into your mouth leisurely, like he has all the time in the world to explore you. 

You kiss and kiss and kiss, so long that a voice in your head wonders if maybe you can do this for the whole flight, please? Max tugs your legs across his until you're practically in his lap, spread across the two seats like they're one.

"We're reached cruising altitude," the speakers crackle. "Feel free to move about, but please be mindful."

Max pulls away, a strand of spit glistening between you until he wipes it away with a smirk. His hair is even messier than before and his cheeks are pink. Lips swollen, eyes glassy -- you must look the same. Your heart is racing and you laugh, breathless.

"Well," Max says, then swallows. His voice is raspy, hoarse with desire. "Guess you have to fly with me from now on."

"Max." You pitch forward and settle where his neck and shoulder meet and inhale. His arms wrap around you and he holds you close. You can hear his heart racing just as fast as yours.

"Yeah, yeah," he grumbles. "I know."

"I can do it," you remind him. "I do it all the time. I just don't like it, that's all."

You feel the press of his lips on your hair.

"I just don't like that I can't fix it," he says. "I can't get inside your head and make you know it's alright."

"No, you can't," you sigh. The plane jerks just a little -- a swoop of your stomach that has you gasping. Max's hold on you tightens and he says your name.

"How do you do this alone?" he rasps, mouth next to your ear as he rubs your back.

"I close my eyes," you say, taking deep breaths. "And I imagine you with me."

He curses softly. "We should get a jet by ourselves next time," he mutters. "Then I can really distract you."

That gets you to laugh, though you can't say you hate the idea. It makes you feel warm, makes you press your thighs together.

"Next time," you echo. "But for now..."

Max cups your jaw and ghosts his nose over yours. "For now..."

He brings your lips together.

[becca-e-barnes]

Ma’am, you are deviously incredible 🔥 We’re begging for an exploration of him saying “I love you” while fucking her like he doesn’t 🥹

My brain keeps picking up the storyline a few splendidly torturous hours in when her body’s completely spent & quivering & she’s a blubbering mess & that’s when he picks her up & takes his sweet time positioning her so she can limply yet eagerly watch their reflection has he finally gives her… exactly what her twitching body’s been craving. 🥵

I'm so glad you all enjoyed the thought of this as much as I did because I've been dying to expand on it 😵‍💫 (Part 1 here)

I like to imagine by that stage, he's absolutely desperate too though. He's got to feel your sweet little pussy clench and flutter around him, contracting so tight every time you cum that he swears it's going to be the end of him.

He's been too hard for too long, buried inside your body and he swears he's never felt you this wet or this hot before. It's been fucking luxurious, forcing you to cum against his fingers, feeling how your body's natural reaction is to coax him to drain his balls into you but that alone isn’t enough. He needs more than that.

He wouldn't admit it to you but he can't take any more. His balls feel like they're fizzing; overfull and beyond ready to flood your waiting, overstimulated body.

He arranges you gently, laying you on your front because he doesn't trust your trembling arms to support you. "That's it, good girl." He coos, hearing you whimper and sob pathetically because he needs to slip out of you to slide a pillow under your hips.

"You've made such a mess." He groans, taking a second to appreciate the delicious, inviting, slick little cunt he's about to indulge in. "You're dripping, sweetheart. God, I just know there's no way I'm going to be able to pull out."

His huge hands are gripping your hips and with one sharp, brutal thrust, he's back inside you and you both sob pathetically at the feeling of your bodies being joined again. This is exactly what you've needed but you don't have the words to tell him that. All you can do is whine and will your body not to cum again so soon.

"I meant. What I said earlier." He punctuates his sentence with soft groans, drawing back until he almost slips out of you before pounding back in.

He leans forward, tilting your chin up, making sure you can see the way he's fucking you in the mirror at the end of the bed.

"I love you. And I don't want you to forget that." He sounds sincere, one hand trailing up from the small of your back to right between your shoulder blades and then back down again. It feels intimate and tender but all that is forgotten by the very next thrust.

"I love you. But for now, you're just a mindless. Little. Drooling. Breedable. Cunt for me." He slows his thrusts down, determined not to cum so soon but it's going to be difficult to last until he gets the first couple of loads out of the way.

"Baby..." You whimper, feeling the tip of his cock nudge against your sweet spot, making you shake from overstimulation.

"I know sweetheart, I know. It's too much. But you're being so good for me. You're so perfect. How have no idea how you feel. So wet and warm and I can feel you fluttering around my cock. It's like you're trying to squeeze every last drop of cum out of me. Is that what you want? Because angel, I'll keep this delicious cunt stuffed full of load after load until I have nothing left to give you."

His thrusts are punishingly fast, thumping against your raised ass, half chasing his orgasm, half holding it back.

"And when I do, I'll remind you just how much I love you. And the baby I'm going to give you tonight."

With that thought, he can't stop himself from cumming, his dick twitching inside you as he shoots thick ropes of his seed right against your cervix. You're so cock-drunk you can only rut yourself millimetres back and forth but that's all you need to send yourself spiralling into another orgasm that leaves you trembling and sobbing.

"Fuck, you want that as much as I do, don't you?" He kisses the back of your neck, breathing you in while letting the euphoric rush subside. He notices he hasn't softened in the slightest despite such an intense orgasm but he knows he needs to be gentle with you for a moment before he can get any rougher.

[littlest-w01f]

Sensitive

Batboys x Reader

RHYSAND MASTERLIST

AZRIEL MASTERLIST

CASSIAN MASTERLIST

MAIN MASTERLIST

Summary: Rhysand shows you he and his closest friends aren't put off by blood

CW: Period sex, very descriptive, blood, horny young adult batboys, wingplay, shadowplay, some consensual mind control, Smut 18+ MDNI (Brought to you by horny periods, my uterus has taken control of me)

A/n: posting both together cause I'll be busy later and don't want to forget. Special mention to @shadowsingers-mate who asked to be tagged :)

The sun had set as you lay in Rhysand, your mate's cot, in the tent he shared with his friends, he would've been training all day while you were working with your mother, he had asked you to come to his tent after you were done, your stomach had been cramping in a familiar way all day, eyes going wide, Illyrian wings curling around yourself as you tense, you had managed to hide your periods for a while, well, almost two years you would cover yourself with a different scent than of your periods so no one caught on, and sometimes Rhysand would glamour you too.

You shot up, your stomach hurting from the cramps, Oh no, you thought as you moved to see blood spots in Rhysand's cot, you stood up, eyes wide in fear.

Panic flooded through you as you stared at the blood spots on Rhysand's cot, your heart racing. You knew you had to clean this up quickly before anyone noticed. But as you stood there frozen, you couldn't help but think about how you would explain this to Rhysand and the others.

You tried to look for something to clean the crimson spots with and find a washcloth, but you ended up spreading it further. As you frantically scrubbed at the stains, trying to erase evidence of your predicament, your mind raced with worry. Thinking of how you could possibly explain this to Rhysand without them thinking less of you.

Suddenly, a warm hand rested on your shoulder, causing you to jump slightly. Rhysand's piercing violet eyes locking onto yours. "What's wrong, darling?" he asked, concern etched on his handsome face, his body covered in sweat from training.

You swallowed hard, trying to find the words. "I… I started bleeding... Ruined your bed..." You stammered, gesturing to the cot behind you.

Rhysand's expression softened, his strong arms wrapping around your waist. "Shh, it's okay," he whispered, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. "It's just a little blood, alright? It's nothing serious."

His reassuring presence did nothing to calm your frantic heart. Rhysand's comforting embrace felt foreign against your trembling body, a stark reminder of your unspoken shame. Your mind scrambled to justify why you were feeling such dread over what seemed like a normal occurrence to everyone else.

"Let me take care of this," Rhysand murmured, guiding you back towards the cot and pushing you gently down His piercing gaze locked onto yours again, filled with a mixture of tenderness and curiosity.

"You know you're always safe with me, right? I'm not one of the males who will force your wings clipped." He murmured softly, his voice low and soothing. "No matter what happens."

"Yeah, I know... I just... Paniced." You nodded, "I know now clean you keep your things and I just... Bled all over your damn bed."

Rhysand chuckled, his warm breath tickling your ear. "Well, it's not the first time my things has seen some unexpected messes, and it won't be the last, I live with Cassian and Azriel remember." He teased, his fingers trailing along your spine in a soothing pattern.

His touch sent shivers down your body, despite the awkward situation. You felt your cheeks flush, a mix of embarrassment and arousal coursing through your veins from his gaze.

Rhysand leaned in closer, his lips brushing against your neck. "But since we're already here, and I've got you all to myself… Why don't we make the most of it?" He suggested, his voice dripping with seduction.

Just as Rhysand pushed your skirt up, exposing your cotton lingerie to him, sliding them off and throwing them somewhere behind him, the sound of wings echoed outside the tent. Cassian and Azriel landed in, their expressions a mix of surprise and amusement at the sight before them.

Cassian's eyes widened as he took in the scene, his gaze lingering on your exposed thighs and the crimson spots on your garments. "Well, well, looks like someone's having a bloody good time," he drawled, a smirk playing on his lips.

Azriel, on the other hand, looked a bit more flustered, his cheeks flushing a deep shade of red. However, his eyes never left your body, filled with hunger, his shadows turning and twisting as the sight. And he did manage an eye roll at Cassian's comment.

With a yelp you shut your thighs, not that it was embarrassing to have them see you and your mate in compromising positions, since you had made love while they were in the room acting as if you weren't fucking in the tent, and you'd seen them in the same positions with the random females they brought back, making you all pretty nonchalant about nudity.

Rhysand, sensing your unease, gave your thigh a reassuring squeeze. "Don't worry, darlings, we're all grown here. There's no need to be shy, besides, blood doesn't make any of us squmish," he purred, spreading your legs again, his hands roaming your exposed thigh, sending tingles throughout your body.

Cassian, still smirking, stepped closer, his eyes gleaming with mischief. "In fact, we could all use a good fuck after a long day of training and work."

A cough sounded from Azriel but the scent of his arousal made it quite clear he liked the idea

You felt Rhysand press into your mind shields, Are you sure? I could always tell them to fuck off, his voice rang in your head.

You nod, heart racing wildly, "I want that... I'd like that."

With a nod, Rhysand glamoured the tent to keep the sounds in, his hands travelled upwards, tracing the curves of your hips and then along your sides, leaving goosebumps in their wake. "As you wish," he whispered huskily, leaning down to capture your lips in a searing kiss.

Cassian and Azriel watched intently, their own arousal growing more evident by the second. Cassian closed the distance between you and him, his clothes gone, pressing his chest against your back, you whine as it makes contact with your wings, his hands finding their way to cup your breasts, ripping your dress off your body.

Meanwhile, Azriel approached from the side, his fingers ghosting across your exposed skin, trailing down until he reached your inner thigh, teasingly close to where you needed him most.

Azriel's finger slipped inside your slick heat, the sensation of his digit coated in your blood mixing with your arousal sending a jolt of pleasure through your body. He pumped his finger slowly, curling it to find and stroke that sensitive spot within you, his thumb rubbing circles on your clit.

Rhysand broke the kiss, his breath hot against your ear as he whispered, "That's it, let us take care of you." Rhysand snapped his fingers and he and Azriel's clothes disappeared. His hands found their way to your breasts, kneading and pinching your nipples, sending sparks of pleasure straight to your cunt as did the sight of their hard cocks curving into their stomach.

Cassian's mouth latched onto your neck, biting and sucking, marking you as his. His free hand slid down to join Azriel's, both of them pumping their fingers in and out of you in tandem, driving you closer to the edge.

The sensation of being surrounded by their leathery wings only heightened your arousal, their unique scents mingling together in the air around you. The combined pressure of their bodies against you, coupled with the rhythm of their fingers working in and out of you, drove you to the brink of insanity.

Rhysand's teeth grazed against your collarbone, sending an electric jolt down your spine. "You're so fucking wet for them, so messy, aren't you?" he growled, his fingers rolling your hardened nipples between them.

Azriel added another finger, stretching you deliciously, his strokes becoming more insistent. Cassian nipped at your earlobe, whispering, "Come on baby, let go."

Your entire body tensed, a cry tearing from your throat as your orgasm hit you hard, your walls clenching around Azriel and Cassian's fingers.

As your climax ripped through you, waves of intense pleasure crashing over you, you cried out, your voice echoing around the tent. Your inner walls spasmed around Azriel and Cassian's fingers, coating their digits in your thick, crimson release.

Rhysand's teasing bites on your wings only intensified the sensations, causing you to convulse under their touches. He leaned in, capturing your lips once more in a passionate kiss, swallowing your moans as your orgasm subsided.

Cassian and Azriel slowly withdrew their fingers, watching as your cunt gushed one final time, coating their hands in your essence.

The air within the small confines of the tent grew thick with lustful energy, the scent of arousal and blood filling your nostrils. Rhysand smiled, pleased with the fucked out look on your face. "Let's not waste another moment, huh?" he murmured, his hands travelling lower, grazing the edges of your soaked cunt.

"We'll take the front," Cassian said, his voice rough with desire as he bit your shoulder.

"I want her mouth," Azriel added, stepping closer, his shadowy tendrils reaching out to caress your skin, the shadows feeling you up.

With a wicked grin, Rhysand positioned himself between your spread thighs, his cock throbbing against your dripping entrance. "I think it's only fair, my love, with how hard they made you cum," he purred, pushing the tip of his cock against you, teasing you mercilessly.

Cassian moved to your side, positioning his cock at your cunt beside Rhysand's, his hands gripping your hips tightly. "Hold her still, Rhys," he smirked, pressing against your hole.

Azriel's shadows wrapped around your waist, holding you steady as they bend you backwards, laying you on your side, resting your head on his thigh, so close to his cock it had you salivating.

"Hold her, how?" Rhysand chuckled, looking right into your eyes, Do you want? He asked in your head, his daemati abilities around your mind. You relaxed with a yes, letting him take control of your mind and body, forcing you still, leaving your control enough so you could moan.

With a thought, Rhysand tightened his grip on your mind, controlling your muscles to stay perfectly still. He grinned, loving the power he held over you, before guiding his cock to your entrance once again. "Like this?"

"Well, I was thinking more leather ristraints, but this works," Cassian leaned into your neck, kissing and biting your neck.

The head of Cassian's cock pressed against you, spreading your folds apart, before sinking into your warmth. A groan escaped his lips as he bottomed out, filling you completely.

At the same time, Azriel aligned his cock with your lips, his tip pressing against your mouth. "Ready for me too, princess?" Azriel taunted, knowing you couldn't move on your own accord, as Cassian gave your ass cheek a firm slap making you gasp softly.

With a nod, Rhysand made you open your mouth, tongue poking out slightly for Azriel to push his cock in, as Rhysand began thrusting into your slick cunt, each movement controlled and calculated. His hips snapped forward, burying himself deeper within you, his balls slapping against your swollen clit with every powerful thrust.

Cassian's cockhead breached your hole beside Rhysand's cock, stretching you deliciously wide with both your cocks. He paused for a moment, savouring the sensation before beginning to push in. Inch by slow inch, he filled you, until finally he was buried to the hilt within your depths.

The sensation of having two cocks inside you at once was overwhelming, your body stretched beyond what felt natural, yet the pleasure was indescribable. Rhysand continued his relentless pace, groaning, his cock pistoning in and out of your cunt, while Cassian matched his movements, driving his own cock into your cunt. When one pulled out till the head the other pushed in completely

Azriel watched, fascinated, as you took his cock into your mouth, the sight of your lips stretched around his girth enough to make him throb with need. "Fuck… so beautiful," he breathed out, his hand gently cradling the back of your head, urging you to take him deeper.

As if on cue, Rhysand and Cassian increased their pace, their bodies moving in sync with each other. The sounds of wet slaps echoed throughout the tent,

The cool touch of Azriel's shadows sent shocks of pleasure straight to your nipples. They rolled and pinched your breasts, drawing moans from your throat, which vibrated around Azriel's shaft. The shadows also found your clit, flicking and circling the sensitive bud, driving you closer to the edge.

Cassian's tongue danced across the delicate membranes of your wings, sending shivers down your spine. Rhysand and Cassian's cocks, coated in your juices and blood, slid in and out of your cunt with ease, the friction building towards an explosive climax.

Azriel's shadows continued their torment, tweaking your nipples and rubbing your clit in tight circles. The combination of sensations was too much to bear, and you felt yourself teetering on the brink of orgasm once more.

As Azriel pushed his cock further into your throat, you gagged, your eyes watering. But the sensation only spurred him on, his hips bucking forward to plunge even deeper into your mouth.

Rhysand and Cassian didn't hold back either, their thrusts becoming erratic and uncontrolled as they chased their own release. Their cocks pounded relentlessly against your inner walls, each stroke hitting spots that made stars burst in your vision.

The pressure built within you, coiling tighter and tighter like a spring ready to snap. Your body tensed, your cunt clenching around the two cocks impaling you, and then you came, screaming and choking around Azriel's cock as waves of pure bliss washed over you, slightly snapping out of Rhysand's control before he held you again.

With a roar that reverberated through the tent, Rhysand buried himself to the hilt inside you, his hot seed spurting into your womb. At the same time, soon after Cassian grunted, his cock twitching as he released his load, coating your insides with his cum.

As Rhysand and Cassian's orgasms triggered your sudden third, you clenched around them, milking every last drop from their spent cocks. Then, just when you thought you couldn't take anymore, Azriel's cock pulsed in your throat, his cum flooding your mouth.

With their releases spent, Rhysand and Cassian slowly pulled out of your dripping cunt, leaving trails of their combined fluids running down your thighs. They both panted heavily, their eyes locked onto you with a mix of satisfaction and lust.

Meanwhile, Azriel gently pulled his cock from your mouth, smirking down at you with pride. "Damn, princess… You really know how to handle us."

As the afterglow settled over you, Rhysand wrapped his arms around you, pulling you close against his chest. "I think we've broken our poor little darling," He teased, nuzzling into your neck.

Rhysand slipped out of your mind, and you sighed against his chest, wrapping your arms around his waist, "Rhys?" You gasp softly.

"Yeah, love?" He whispered with a smile as Cassian and Azriel left you alone for a moment, Cassian discarding her bloody dress, Azriel getting a new one.

You look up at him, your eyes still glazed over from the hold he had taken of your mind, "I really liked that."

"You enjoyed being our plaything?" Rhysand chuckled, his voice low and husky. He brushed a stray lock of hair away from your face, tucking it behind your ear. "I'm glad to hear that, my sweet." He kissed you deeply, before winnowing a glass of water for you to sip from.

Breaking the kiss, he looked into your eyes, a glint of mischief twinkling in his own. "But don't worry, there's plenty more where that came from."

You nod, tired, "Sure…"

Rhysand smiled, with a wave of his hand cleaning you and the bloody mess around you, spelling you to not bleed everywhere further, "Get some sleep dear, I'll be here when you wake up."

With a content sigh, you curled up against Rhysand, feeling utterly sated and exhausted. Your eyes grew heavy, and before long, you were fast asleep, your dreams filled with erotic images of the night's events.

{General Taglist- @nox-ceur @lilah-asteria @paleidiot}

{Azriel Taglist- @fxckmiup @annamariereads16 @saltedcoffeescotch}

[wannaeatramyeon]

Lookism: "If you die tomorrow, would you have any regrets?"

G/N. Jake, Goo, Gun, DG, Ryuhei, Sammy. Reminder that Gun is canonically a gamer lmao.

Jake looks up at you in surprise, the morbid question catching him off guard.

"Why?" he asks, tilting his head.

"It was just a question I read."

"Hmm," Jake rubs at his chin and gazes off somewhere in the distance, no doubt thinking about all that has happened in his life. "Yeah. Loads."

Oh. You weren't expecting that-

"A lot of things I've made my peace with," Jake shrugs and you know he means Sinu and Samuel and Big Deal.

The mess with Workers, the falling out with Samuel and end of the Golden Era, the arrest of so many of his crew. He knows his mom is disappointed that he is so much like his father, his time in juvie, and Jake thinks if he tried better in school instead of fighting then maybe things would have worked out a lot differently.

"But-" he tugs on your hand, pulling you off-balance and falling straight into his lap.

"I'd regret not spending more time with you. All the time trying to be a good boss rather than a good boyfriend."

You open your mouth to argue that he is a good boyfriend but he continues on-

"I'd regret leaving you on your own. Even though I know you'd find someone easily," And Jake manages a small wistful smile, "I'd regret not being there for you."

.

.

"Me?" Goo blinks, looking up from his manga.

"Yes, you. The only other person here."

"Just checking, Cupcake." Goo thinks briefly for a moment before making up his mind.

"I'll regret not seeing how this manga ends," then he narrows his eyes, stabbing angrily at the page, "And not going to Japan to hunt down this asshole for killing my fave off-screen."

"Goo!" Maybe this is on you for expecting a serious answer.

He gets up and makes his way to you, peppers kisses all over your face as you roll your eyes. "You're not planning on killing me are you, Sweetheart?"

"Yes. Tonight. There's a knife under my pillow."

"Make sure you don't wake me, do it quick," he grins mischievously then-

An unpleasant thought pops up and he pulls a face. "Once I'm dead, you better not fall in love with anyone else. My ghost will haunt you, y'know."

"Fine, I'll just be sad and alone and mourning over you forever."

"Perfect!"

But what would Goo actually regret?

What's the saying? You can't take it with you.

Goo has such fun plans once he retires from all this crew shit. Neither of you have to work another day again, you can just spend the rest of your lives terrorising the general public instead. Travelling the world, swimming in a pool of money together, sleeping on a bed of cash. All that fun stuff.

Goo doesn't regret the time amassing his fortune, his little safety net for the future. But if he was to die tomorrow, he would regret not having that future with you.

.

.

Gun pauses the video game at your question, then turns to you with a brow arched, "Why do you think I'm going to die?"

"It's hypothetical. Like in a fight or something."

An arrogant smile spreads, "And who's strong enough to kill me?"

You click your tongue in annoyance at his response although you hate to admit that damn, you find his attitude sexy as hell. There's just something about him being able to back up his confidence with his skills and talent.

"Just answer my question!"

"No I would not have any regrets," he says, already turning back and resuming his game.

Of course Gun doesn't. As if someone like him would have any regrets.

Eyes still on the screen and fingers clicking on the controller, Gun adds quietly. "But you will be taken care of."

Oh.

If Gun were to die tomorrow, he would regret not being able to take care of you. Being by your side. In his line of work, it is always a possibility no matter how strong he is. The least he could do, and has done, is make sure that at least no harm or hardships befalls you after he is gone.

Money, protection, freedom. If he can't have a future, then he will assure yours.

.

.

DG falters mid-stride, giving it the briefest of thoughts before coming to a conclusion.

"Nope," he says with a cocky smirk.

He has very little to regret. His life as DG is what most people dream of. Fame and fortune, power and influence.

As James Lee he has proven he's the strongest, he's the peak and untouchable.

There's very little left for him to accomplish. Why would he have any regrets?

But, he supposes, as he is later handled by the assistants and the stylists, then plasters on a fake smile for TV appearances before being ushered to some event full of schmoozers and fakers and having to make small talk as DG, the idol and CEO-

Is that maybe if he could do it again, he would choose something with more privacy. More freedom. That he could do what he wants, whenever he wants.

And most importantly-

That he can walk hand in hand with you down the street without rabid fans screaming and the paparazzi photos making headlines.

Without you being on the receiving end of death threats and unhinged letters, and his agent and company telling him that he needs to apologize for his relationship. Backtrack it. Single idols sells better, appeals to the public more.

If DG died tomorrow, he thinks that actually he would regret this. He regrets keeping you in the shadows.

.

.

Ryuhei doesn't hesitate and tells you he wishes you were his first. For everything.

Even hand holding. Even hugs.

You pull a face at that.

"That's... Sweet." You say, lying through your teeth as Ryuhei looks at you with concerned puppy eyes.

"You wish the same, right?"

"Sure," you agree because where's the harm in appeasing this goofball.

In truth, and Ryuhei hates thinking about it, is that he does desperately wish that he met you first. Before Mitsuki, before anyone else.

Nevermind that it's a completely futile, fanciful dream because everything that has happened has led him to you.

But he thinks it would have worked out better. He could have been a better person, a better boyfriend. If he met you before he had a chance to develop his sex pest tendencies and obsessive behaviour that you had to stamp out.

It's pointless though. Not even worth dwelling on. What has happened has happened and he could only try to be better now.

Ryuhei considers the question again with a sigh. If he dies tomorrow, what would he regret?

Oh yeah! He would absolutely regret this!

"I'd regret that we can't bang anymore!"

"Ryuhei!"

.

.

Samuel immediately feels defensive at your question.

He thinks about what he hasn't yet achieved. All his dreams of becoming King, being at the top, and yet he's no closer.

"Why?" he asks, eyes starting to narrow behind his glasses.

You hold up both palms, in a gesture to indicate you didn't mean anything by it and your face tells him to just chill.

"I dunno. I found it and thought it was an interesting question."

"It's not." Samuel says, effectively ending the conversation and eyes dipping back down to his phone.

But it doesn't just end.

Samuel spirals and doesn't talk to you for the rest of the day, his shortcomings haunting him instead.

He drinks and he smokes and he spends even more time at work, trying to dull the ache of his inferiority.

The mornings and nights pass by in a blur, a string of toxic behaviours and self sabotage, until eventually - he comes to.

His failures and faults pushed to the back of his mind, rather than a constant reminder.

Then like a fog clearing, he finds clarity again. He sees your face, the worry, the trepidation... The guilt for asking an innocent question.

And Samuel knows that his biggest regret of all if he dies tomorrow is that you deserved better and he hasn't been able to give that to you.

[theflowerrooms]

hi petal! i've got an idea if you're still looking for requests c:

-imagine the squad goes camping but there was a miscommunication/error in booking and steve ends up having to room with eddie & the reader.

-he's already annoyed about having to third wheel but also bc he knows theyre always going at it.

-one night, he went to bed earlier than the group.

-by the time eddie & reader get to bed, they assume he's fast asleep but they were kinda loud coming into the cabin so he stirs awake.

-once they're in bed, they start messin around and eventually have sex, not caring about how loud their being bc they still think steve is asleep when really he's wide awake like O.O

(i'll leave it up to you whether or not steve gets himself off to them doin it but part of me feels like he has a voyeurism kink heehehe)

to request • eddie’s masterlist • steve’s masterlist • main

Wide Awake

Eddie Munson x Reader, x Steve Harrington (slight)

Summary: on a trip with friends, Steve ends up rooming with Eddie and you, the token sex addicts as he’s lovingly called you. He goes to bed early and you and Eddie calling soon after, thinking he’s fast asleep when you two start messing around

I seriously loved writing this so much! Thank you for the request! I’m a big fan of Steddie x reader and I’ve really been wanting to write more with Stevie <3 thank you! Love, Petal

wordcount: 2k

Warnings: smut, slight dubious consent, swearing, penetrative sex, voyeurism (Steve can hear reader and Eddie going at it), exhibitionism (Eddie and reader are definitely getting off on it, praise, slight humiliation?

He should’ve been the one to call and book the rooms. Maybe then they would’ve gotten four rooms with one bed each instead of two rooms with two beds each. Steve glared at you and Eddie across the fire pit, cozied together. Your face was buried into Eddie’s neck as you laughed at something Robin said. He didn’t hate you or Eddie, in fact, he loved you both immensely, his best friends. What he hated was the fact that you were always on each other. A constant reminder of how he was alone when the two of you looked happier than anyone had been before. It didn’t help that Steve had a thing for the both of you before you started dating.

Steve watched as Eddie’s hand slipped from your waist to your thigh, gripping it tightly and pulling you closer to him. He watched as your lips found Eddie’s pulse point, leaving nothing more than a gentle kiss, but it was enough to let Steve know you two were about to be interested in more than friendly kisses and lingering touches.

That was his cue to leave, go to bed and fall asleep before he got stuck listening to you two go at it.

He said his goodnights to everyone and all but ran to the room he’d soon be sharing with you and Eddie. His bed was cold and comfortable, but he was bitter and annoyed, and the cold only reminded him that there was nobody else to warm his bed with him. He hadn’t laid there long before he’d almost fallen asleep, resting on his side and blanket up to his chin as he faced the wall. His drowsiness was quick to leave him when he heard the door swing open and close.

"Shh- shut up, Steve's sleepin'." He heard you giggle, Eddie giggling in response. The corner of his mouth quirked up in a slight smile at your tipsy laughs, you sounded like you'd each been drinking. He knew it hadn't been more than a beer each; You and Eddie were just drunk on each other.

He heard Eddie's heavy footsteps as you led him over to the bed. He could hear you both falling onto the mattress and he was immediately grateful that the beds weren't squeaky, so at least he'd not have to listen to that.

  He listened to you giggle and Eddie shush you. "Keep your pretty mouth shut, don't wanna wake up Steve." Eddie rasped. Steve could tell by his playful tone that he didn't really care if they woke him up or not.

  The room soon filled with the sounds of you and Eddie kissing, clearly sloppy and rushed. Steve's face started to heat up with a deep blush that he was too embarrassed to acknowledge. And as your breath started to grow heavy with a soft sigh against Eddie's lips, Steve began to consider that maybe being stuck in a room with you and Eddie wasn't such a bad thing.

  "Get this off baby." Eddie mumbled, mouthing breathily at your neck. You whispered something that Steve couldn't really hear, but he did hear his name. "Baby, it's fine, we'll be real quiet. If Harrington wakes up he can deal, or go sleep with the girls, it's fine." Eddie assured you, pecking kisses over his shoulder. Steve wanted to be irritated with Eddie for not caring to respect that maybe Steve didn't want to chance hearing you both fuck, but… Steve wasn't so mad about it, more excited than he was able to admit. It wasn't like he hadn't thought about Eddie and you like that before. He wasn't upset that he'd get to hear it this time.

  Eddie was quick to help you get your shirt off. Steve could hear him kiss down the column of your chest, hear your shirt drop to the floor and he could even hear the zipper of your shorts before they hit the floor too.

“Fuck you’re so pretty.” Eddie groaned under his breath. Steve had to stop himself from turning to look for himself. He’d never seen you wearing less than a bikini, but that was enough for him to imagine. He didn’t have to see you to know that he already agreed.

Eddie kissed your sternum and unclasped your bra, letting you slide it off yourself as he let his hand fall to your cunt, rubbing slow, teasing circles over your panties. “Eddie, please.” You tried to whisper, but the unsteady and loud whimper that followed your words defeated the purpose of you whispering in the first place.

Your voice was darker, so sweet and needy, and that was it before Steve could feel him growing hard in his sweatpants. He heard Eddie’s taunting laugh and more whimpers from you that got him fully hard. He desperately wanted to turn and look at you, to reach down and palm himself, but he wouldn’t.

“Gonna let me taste you baby?” Eddie rasped, leaving more wet kisses on your stomach as he slid your underwear down your legs. Steve felt conflicted. He was excited at the possibility of getting to hear Eddie go down on you, frustrated that he couldn’t watch, and jealous that he didn’t get to have his mouth on you. Or even have Eddie’s mouth on himself.

You tugged Eddie’s hair to pull him up closer to you, and the groan he let out made Steve’s cock twitch. “Not right now, need you so bad, please.” Your voice shook and Steve exhaled, careful not to be too loud. He heard Eddie’s shirt hit the floor, then the zipper of his jeans. Steve wondered if he was stripping himself, or if you were helping him.

He stopped thinking about that the second he heard you gasp and sigh. He couldn’t be sure as he wasn’t able to see, but he imagined Eddie pushing his cock into you, bottoming out. He wondered how wet you were, and how deep Eddie was inside of you. He wanted to see so bad, but he was grateful to be able to hear the soft sounds you let out.

“Jesus… how are you always so fuckin’ tight? Feel so good angel.” Eddie’s voice was shakey, keeping his voice down for Steve’s sake. Unbeknownst to you both, Steve desperately wanted Eddie to speak up, wanted you to let yourself be louder.

As Eddie started moving faster in and out of you, you both stopped paying much attention to your volume. Eddie breathed heavily, and quiet moans were pushed out of your lips with each thrust of his cock. Steve could even hear your cunt, hearing just how soaking wet Eddie made you.

Steve’s cock was aching against his pants, and he just had to do something. Obviously he couldn’t jerk off right there: You’d stop if you knew he was listening. He shifted so that instead of laying on his side, he was on his stomach, giving him the perfect opportunity to press his hips against the mattress. He could gain some friction and alleviate some of the pressure from being so hard and not being able to do anything about it.

He nearly cursed at himself, the noise of him moving alerted you and Eddie. You both stopped, looking over at him to gauge whether or not he was awake. After a few moments of tense silence, Eddie started fucking you again, harder than before and catching you off guard. You whined, so loud and beautiful, and Steve couldn’t help but rhythmically roll his hips into the mattress. He had to bite down on his lip to keep himself quiet.

“Eddie-” His name fell from your lips, caught somewhere between a warning for him to slow down, or a plead for him to give you more. Steve didn’t think you were sure what you wanted.

“What’s the matter baby? Don’t wanna wake up Stevie?” Eddie asked teasingly and you hummed in agreement. “Awe, you don’t want Steve to see how well you take my cock? Don’t want Steve to see how fuckin’ pretty you look getting fucked?” He groaned and Steve almost groaned in return. Eddie’s words were doing just as much for him as they were for you, then the broken whine that came out of your mouth had Steve realizing the likelihood of him cumming in his pants like some desperate kid.

“Y’know what? I think you want him to see you. With the way you’re fuckin’ tightening up every time I say his damn name? God, fuck-” He fucked you harder, nails digging into the meat of your thighs, but it only spurred you on. He hit your g-spot over and over again, and you bit down on the junction between his neck and shoulder to try and quiet yourself. It was no use; you were still moaning desperately and Steve could hear every bit of it loud and clear. Each broken whine and whimper from your lips was bringing him closer and closer to an orgasm, just like Eddie’s cock was doing for you.

“Fucking- damn it, feel so good. Gonna cum baby? Are you gonna cum on my cock right next to Steve? Such a slut, fuckin’ love you” Eddie moaned, his thrusts were growing sloppier and sloppier and Steve could hear it.

“Love you- I- need to cum Eddie.” Your sweet voice was heavy with tears of pleasure, and simultaneously, you and Steve felt the pulsing in your lower stomachs, warning you of your orgasm.

“C’mon, so good for me, cum for me. Be a good slut and cum for me.” Eddie’s voice was thick and raspy, but sweet and loving. It guided you to your orgasm and you moaned loudly as you arched your back and came on his cock. At the same time, at Eddie’s demand, Steve came as well, his jaw hanging open in a choked back, silent moan as he filled his sweatpants with cum.

Eddie’s hips stuttered against yours and he came too, groaning loudly. A whiny moan that you loved to hear as he fucked his cum inside of you. “Fuck- s’good for me.” He mumbled, kissing your forehead as he stilled inside of you.

Steve rested there quietly, as quietly as he could manage. He listened to Eddie pull out of you and lay next to you, kissing the skin of your shoulders softly. Steve heard the blankets moving around as Eddie pulled them up over your shoulders for you.

“Thank you.” Your voice was sweet and sleepy, still heavy with that post orgasm haze. You thanked Eddie again, kissing his jaw. Steve wanted to thank him too, he wished he’d be able to replay everything he’d heard in his head over and over for the rest of time. He hoped you would do the same the next night. He’d make sure you ‘accidentally’ had to share a room with one another again. “Goodnight.” Steve smiled to himself as he heard your sweet voice, so loving and pretty. He heard you and Eddie kiss for a moment again and then he heard you shuffle closer to your boyfriend, burying your face in his neck. He was willing to bet you looked so cute.

Eddie yawned himself, “Goodnight baby.” He littered kisses over the crown of your head and Steve listened. He began to grow frustrated and jealous again, wishing he had someone to kiss him, to hold him. He wanted to scold himself for being so bitter about you and Eddie being happy together. You both deserved it after all; Steve just wanted to be happy, and he liked you both so much.

Finally, as Steve came back to himself after coming down from the post-orgasm high, he chewed his lip anxiously. What kind of creep not only listens to his friends have sex with each other, but gets off to it as well? The cold, wet stain in his pants began to grow uncomfortable as he began to grow guilty. What would you think if you knew? What would Eddie think? He was sure Eddie would want to knock his teeth out if he knew. Finally, he was interrupted from his anxious thoughts by Eddie’s voice.

“G’night Steve.”

[mylovesstuffs]

OT13 reactions to your "let's break up" text prank

Request: Hello! I've been reading your stuff, and it's so good. I was wondering if I could request something? A while back, there was a prank on TikTok with girlfriends texting their boyfriends asking/telling them they wanted to break up. I was wondering if you could do Seventeen OT13 reactions to the same scenario? Let me know if this is okay! Thank you! :)

A/N: Ah, this took me longer to complete than I expected. Anyway, this is their reaction to the general, "Let's break up," text tiktok trend. I know it's a really common prompt, but I still wanted to try it out. The videos the anon later sent me of the trend for the request (because I hadn’t seen before) actually had a twist, like, "What do we do when we break up," or, "When we break up, ___." These felt a bit different from the straightforward, "Let's break up," so I’ll be writing that version as well. I really want these to meet your expectations, anon, as well as for everyone else reading. So, if this isn’t quite what you were hoping for, please stay tuned for my next reaction post—it’ll be up soon. Until then, I hope you enjoy this one!

For the sake of the reaction, OT13 are not physically with their s/o at the moment.

Content: Suggestive in some members (Joshua, Mingyu, Minghao and Dino) MDNI!, angst if you squint, other than these I think it's cute heheh

This is my personal opinion and perspective. It may not accurately reflect their real-life personalities or behaviors.

Seungcheol: At first, he thinks you're joking, but the tone of your message makes him pause. He’s a natural leader who reads between the lines, so your message would raise a red flag. He’d immediately call you instead of texting back.

"What’s going on? Is this a joke, or are you serious?", "If something’s wrong, we need to talk about it, not text about it." If you stay silent to keep the prank going, he’d start to worry. “Listen, if you’re upset or unsure about us, we should talk in person. Breaking up over text isn’t like you.”

When you finally admit it’s a prank, you’d hear a heavy sigh of relief on the other end of the line. “You had me thinking about where I went wrong. Don’t mess with me like that, okay?” He’d pout and demand extra cuddles, peppered with kisses as apology payments, but it’s not long before he uses this prank against you, teasing about how you can’t live without him.

Jeonghan: He sees right through it. Jeonghan is the master of mind games, he knows exactly how to flip the script. When he reads your breakup text, he’d smirk to himself and reply with something like,

"Oh no, how will I ever survive without you? 🙄"

Or,

“Shit, what did I do? Let me grab my tissues and cry in public.”

If you double down, insisting it's serious, he might add a touch of fake sincerity just to keep you on edge,

“Alright, if this is real, I need to hear it from you in person. But if you’re joking, just admit it already so that you don't have to embarrass yourself before I start planning my heartbreak playlist.”

When you finally confess, he’d grin slyly and shake his head.

“You thought you could out-prank me? Cute. Now you owe me a nice date to make up for trying to stress me out.” (but was he even stressed in the first place?)

He wouldn’t even pretend to be mad, but his devilish smirk would remind you just how much you underestimated him. It was a nice try but you need to work harder to fool him.

Joshua: Joshua’s initial response is shock. He would be one of the most heartbroken, mainly because he wouldn’t immediately assume it’s a prank. His first response would be thoughtful and kind, showing how much he values your relationship He types and deletes messages a few times before sending:

“Is this really how you feel? Did I do something to make you feel this way? I’d really like to talk about it instead of texting.”

If you don’t reply quickly, he’d follow up with another message,

“Please don’t make a decision like this without us talking. I want to fix whatever’s wrong.”

When you finally admit it’s a joke, his relief would be palpable, and he’d laugh nervously. “I can’t believe you’d scare me like that!” He really thought he lost you for a second. You’re lucky he can’t stay mad at you. But just like Seungcheol he'll pout and will have to make up with him for some more~ (“You better make this up to me. Tonight.”) I'll keep it open to interpretation.

Jun: Jun would be confused and a bit hurt but wouldn’t jump to conclusions. He’d reread the text multiple times, trying to understand where it was coming from.

"I don't understand...."

"Did I do something wrong? I thought we were happy."

"Can we talk about this in person?"

If you keep the prank going, he’d start to blame himself so,

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry.”

“Can we meet and talk about this?”

He was about to bring over your favorite snacks and talk it out and fix things!Then when you admit it’s a prank, he’d groan and playfully pout. His pout would be so adorable that you’d smother him with kisses in apology, and he’d happily take them all.

Hoshi: Hoshi's immediate reaction would be pure panic. He’d spam you with messages, each one more frantic than the last:

"WHAT?!"

"What do you mean break up?"

"Why??"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"I’ll fix it, I promise!"

"Don’t leave me!!!"

When you don’t reply fast enough, he’d call you, his voice would be shaky, “Please, let’s talk it out! I can’t lose you!” so when you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d let out the most dramatic sigh of relief and switch to playful scolding in an instant saying things like, “You almost gave me a heart attack!” His whole world actually flashed before his eyes. But he wouldn’t let it slide easily, so you better give him cuddles for a week to make up for this!

Wonwoo: Wonwoo would approach it maturely but with a heavy heart.

"Is this really what you want?"

“If this is what you really want, I won’t stand in your way. But I’d like to know why, so I can understand.”

"I just want you to be happy, even if it’s not with me."

If you push the prank further, he’d try to give you space while quietly reflecting on what he might have done wrong.

“I hope you’re okay. Just let me know when you’re ready to talk.”

After this text from him, you'll have to immediately stop the prank because he's actually taking this into consideration for your sake. When you confess that it was all a prank, he’d take a moment before chuckling softly and saying, “You really scared me there. I was already preparing to give you the space you needed. Don’t joke about something like this, okay?” You really scared this man.

Woozi: He would be stunned and would stare at the message for a long time, unsure how to react. He finally texts back:

“Is this real? Did something happen?”

If you keep insisting it’s serious, he’d start overthinking.

“I didn’t realize I was making you feel this way. I’m sorry. Let’s meet and talk, please.”

When you reveal it’s a prank, he’d let out a heavy sigh and come all the way home to roll his eyes at you lmao. He can’t believe you just did that. Do you think he's laughing? No, he's not. But he'll forgive you this time. He’d try to act annoyed, but the small smile on his face would give him away.

Dokyeom: This poor man's heart would break immediately, and he’d call you with his voice trembling, his speech coming in quick succession, "What happened? Why do you want to break up? I don’t understand. Whatever it is, I’m sorry! Please!"

When you finally admit it’s a prank, he’d laugh out of sheer relief, but you’d sense his lingering panic. "You’re so mean! My heart is still racing!" (It is). So please do us a favour, don't do this type of prank with our cutie patootie and save him from a potential heartbreak.

Mingyu: Mingyu would be devastated but would try to keep it together.

"What? Why?"

"Did I do something wrong?"

"Can we talk about this face-to-face?."

When you finally tell him it’s a prank, he’d groan and collapse onto the couch, his hands covering his face. “You scared me so much! I was about to drop everything and come see you. You’re going to pay for this with a date night—and maybe a private encore performance after.” Again I'll leave this up to your interpretation of what happens after he comes back home.

Minghao: Minghao would handle it coolly but with a hint of worry.

"If that’s what you really want, I won’t stop you."

"But I’d like to know why."

When you admit it’s a prank, he’d shake his head and smirk. "Don’t test me like that again." Again, I'm leaving this up to your interpretation of what happens next when he's back home. (He’d pull you close, his lips ghosting over yours as he adds, "Next time you want my attention, just say so. No need for dramatics." — snippet)

Seungkwan: Seungkwan would immediately start spiraling the moment he reads your text. His fingers would move at lightning speed, sending a flurry of messages that progressively show his panic:

"Why??"

"????"

"What happened?"

"Is it something I did?"

"Please tell me we can fix this."

When you tell him it’s a prank, he’d yell. "YOU DID NOT JUST DO THAT TO ME!" He’d immediately start pacing in circles, waving his hands around like he’s rehearsing for a drama, "I was about to cry! How could you do this to me?" while being in call with you. But then he’d laugh, give you a side eye and forgive you.

Vernon: Vernon would be too stunned to react at first. After what feels like an eternity (but is really just two minutes), he’d reply:

"Uh... what? Can we talk about this?"

He's genuinely surprised so when you tell him it’s a joke, he’d sigh and laugh awkwardly cause then it makes sense for you to do a tiktok prank on him. "You’re wild for that. My brain didn’t know how to process it." I mean who can break up with a breathtakingly gorgeous man like him?. Also, you might catch him giving you side glances for the rest of the day, as if he’s still recovering from the fake heartbreak.

Dino: Dino would be heartbroken and immediately reply.

"What? Why?"

"I thought we were happy together."

When you reveal it’s a prank, his gasp would be loud enough to echo. "No way you just did that to me! I was about to cry!" He’d pout and demand endless apologies. His grin would leave no doubt about his plans to make you make up for it. He might be the youngest but again...I'm leaving this up to your interpretation.

[thatfandomslut]

Get Her Back!

Regina George x Reader

Word Count: 2.3k

Trigger Warnings: messy breakups, toxic relationship talks, jealousy, language,

Request:

Hi can you write a fic about fem!reader being Regina's ex? Like they met and started dating during summer. Reader is from another town/state and Regina spent the summer there over some relatives house and they had a nasty break up but then a few months later reader's family moved to her town and she started at Northshore 😂 she sees Regina acting like a queen b before Regina saw her and she befriends Janis and Ian <3 anyways don't spare us all the drama hehe

Mean Girls requests are open.

(Y/n) sat beside Janis as the crowd parted and four girls made their way through the halls. With raised brows, she looked their way, despite Damian's pleas not to. There was Cady, the girl she had met alongside Janis and Damian in French class, a girl with wavy black hair without a thought behind her eyes, a honey-blonde haired girl who looked around at everyone, and Regina George, her summer fling from Newport, Rhode Island. (Y/n) was surprised to see Regina, and she wasn't expecting her to be so popular. Her icy glare surveyed the room as they landed on (Y/n)'s, widening when they made eye contact. Fortunately, (Y/n) had the sense to sever the contact and sit down.

"What was that?" Damian questioned, looking between her and Regina, who let her eyes latch onto (Y/n) for a few moments longer before she made her way to their usual table. Janis was looking just as expectant at (Y/n), but the girl shrugged innocently. She was new to school, she didn't want to be involved in all of the drama high school had to offer within her first week. "Girl, you better answer. I've never seen the Queen Bee break her icy stare for just anyone."

With a sigh, (Y/n) glanced up at him, then looked to Janis for help. But she was curious to understand their connection, too. "Let's just say that Regina and I met when I was staying at my grandparents and she was staying with her grandparents in Newport, Rhode Island over the summer. She left me at a party I didn't want to attend because a guy flirted with me, then ignored me when I apologized. Even though I was apologizing for something I didn't do. The official breakup was through a text." (Y/n) explained casually as she ate some of her pizza. She ignored the wide stares from Damian and Janis, knowing they had a million questions.

Leaning back, Janis tapped her knuckles dramatically on the table. "Okay, okay, so how did you end up in the same school as her?" She looked like she was going to burst if (Y/n) didn't answer her questions. She was getting so red in the face, that Damian had to remind her to breathe, but his actions were not effective. Janis was just too curious about how their relationship went down.

(Y/n) glanced at her nails before looking over to Janis with risen brows. "Unfortunate circumstances. Our fathers are doing business together." She stated simply. A sigh escaped her lips as she looked at her pizza, losing her appetite. "Regina wasn't all bad. She was just jealous. Like, when I think about her, I'm in between keying her car and making her lunch. Sometimes, I think about her, and I'm still enamored by her, but then I'm like 'No fuck her, she left me at a party for a guy flirting with me.'" (Y/n) hummed as she pushed her tray away slightly.

Now, Janis was going to explode. She already was ruining Regina's life with Cady, but what if she also messed around with her love life a bit, too? After all, that is exactly what Regina did when she had a crush on her in middle school. "It's kind of like… You want to make her feel jealous and sad over her loss." She associated as Damian eyed her. He always seemed to know when she was plotting. She made this face where her smile looked a little more sly than usual and her eyes narrowed.

(Y/n) blinked at Janis's statement as she nodded in understanding. A small, bitter laugh escaped her lips. "Yeah, 'cause I miss the way she kissed me and the way she used to make me laugh even though she didn't deserve me." She agreed before standing up to discard her food and trash. She didn't mean to be wasteful. but she wasn't feeling her meal anymore. She was too busy thinking about her ex who gave her a whirlwind of a summer and then provided a whiplash type of breakup. Thinking about Regina brought back the whirlwind feeling and the whiplash after-effect every time. It made her bitter. Janis could relate to that bitter feeling. She never got over what Regina did to her. From the kiss to 'Sissy Liz,' Regina's actions were inexcusable. "All in all… I want sweet revenge but I want her again, too." (Y/n) admitted shamelessly.

Janis smirked, leaning forward, and taking (Y/n)'s hands. She knew that Regina tensed at this because she saw it from her periphery. "We can make that happen for you. Do you see those girls beside Regina? The girl with big amber eyes is Gretchen, and the girl with wavy black hair is Karen… There's a party next week on Halloween… If you flirt with them, that will set Regina off." Janis stated, biting her lip excitedly. "Hopefully, this will set Regina George straight for you," Janis confirmed, winking at (Y/n). (Y/n) considered this for a moment. Finally nodding, Janis almost squealed before the three got up and headed to their next class.

On the night of Halloween, Janis and Damian helped (Y/n) get ready. And Janis had to try not to stare at herself. She understood why Regina was so into (Y/n). She kind of was, too. (Y/n) turned around in her very revealing devil costume, smiling over at Damian and Janis. "So, what do you think?" She questioned, wiggling her eyebrows over at them to get their opinions. Damian smirked over at her as he nodded in approval, but Janis was too stunned to speak. "I'll take your faces as a sign of approval." She said happily as she kissed the little cape over her shoulders. "I'll come right over once the party is over." (Y/n) promised, heading out the door, but not before blowing them kisses.

Regina was blown away when (Y/n) walked into the party, and she was taken aback when she saw Cady's outfit. Everyone screamed when Cady popped out behind the girl in red, but she couldn't say she was phased. She was used to Cady doing things that were out there. Still, she didn't stop herself from texting Gretchen and asking who invited Cady. Regina rolled her eyes when she saw that Gretchen pointed out Cady's crush on Aaron. This was obvious to her, but still, maybe she could kill two birds with one stone. She could make (Y/n) jealous and Cady miserable. Even though a bigger part of her wondered if making (Y/n) jealous was worth it. Until she turned to see a flustered Gretchen and a confident (Y/n).

Regina realized that (Y/n) was flirting with Gretchen. Her plans on getting Aaron back and making Cady miserable were put on hold, her eye twitching as (Y/N) soon moved over to flirt with Karen, too. Was this a game to her? Before she could react, she bumped into Aaron, who almost spilled his drink all over her. That was when she realized that making (Y/n) jealous was more important than making Cady jealous. "I was just looking for you," Regina smirked as she took Aaron to the side, acutely aware of (Y/n) and Cady staring with wide eyes.

(Y/n) felt annoyed as she watched Regina and Aaron flirt, but her heart sank when Regina kissed him. Her eyes landed on Cady, who looked heartbroken in the distance. Making her way over, she led Cady out of the house and towards Janis's. "Okay, that's it." (Y/n) spoke as she barged in. "We need to go farther. She has now officially gone after Cady, too." (Y/n) said, gesturing to the mess that was Cady right beside her, her thick make-up running down her cheeks as tears helped create pathways for them.

Janis cursed as she pulled Cady into her arms. "I completely agree. Let's run this bitch into the ground. She's always been like this. She takes everything too far." Janis gritted her teeth in frustration. She looked very angry, but (Y/n) was beginning to wonder if it was for Cady or because Regina had wronged her, too.

"So, then what did Regina do to you?" Janis looked up, horrified by the question. Damian's neck also snapped up, but his eyes were trained on Janis. Janis tried to get the attention off of her, but (Y/n) raised her brows. "Janis, this is important information. Cady and I have a reason, but what is for you? Why do you care what happens to Regina George?"

Janis flushed a bright red, realizing she wasn't going to drop it. "I guess I don't want to discuss it." She crossed her arms, falling back onto the couch behind her. Not wanting to make eye contact with anyone she slipped her mask over her face. This caused everyone to glance at each other and Damian shook his head at her. Janis knew that she was acting childish, but she didn't want to tell her new friends what Regina did to her. She was embarrassed about it, and she didn't want to lose her illusion as a confident lesbian.

"Janis, it's time," Damian ignored her protesting as he slammed a box down, grabbing a Bratz doll and a Dora doll. He then went on to explain that, once upon a time, Janis and Regina were best friends. He then went on to explain why they had stopped being friends. He explained how Regina had kissed her at a party, even though she knew how Janis felt, and then he explained how Regina outed her to the party-goers and then her class using a TY baby she named 'Sissy-Liz.' (Y/n) looked at the ground with her brows furrowed. "Now you know, Cady and (Y/n), you can never trust Regina George." And thus the revenge party began.

During lunch on Monday morning, (Y/n) ignored the looks that Regina gave her. She was mad at Regina for hurting Cady in an attempt to make her jealous. She was mad it worked, and she was even more upset that she used Gretchen and Karen to try to make Regina jealous. As Janis sat next to her, (Y/n) smiled at the girl before leaning over to wipe off the paint that smeared over Janis's cheek. At the action, she saw Regina storm out. So, in an attempt to finally talk to Regina, she excused herself and followed the blonde out of the cafeteria. "What's your problem, Regina? What the fuck is up with the Sissy-Liz and why did you kiss Aaron?" (Y/n) questioned loudly, stopping the girl down the hall.

Regina looked around at everyone with a glare, pulling (Y/n) into the classroom beside her, thankful it was empty. (Y/n) stared at her for a long moment as Regina glanced her up and down with a glare. In a weak moment, (Y/n) thought about pushing her against the door she just closed and kiss her. "What's my problem? You're the one flirting with everyone at this damn school. And why do you care who I kiss? You're the one who is all over Janis Imi'ike." Regina said Janis's name in disgust as she narrowed her eyes. Then it clicked in (Y/n) that Regina was, in fact, jealous. "Besides, I only kissed Aaron. It's not like we got back together. We talked that night and he likes Cady, for whatever reason." Regina looked away, pretending not to know why Aaron liked Cady. Everyone knew Cady was incredibly sweet and pretty.

Blinking, (Y/n) shook her head in slight frustration. "Wait, you and Aaron only kissed? Also, when are you going to realize that I only like you? I'm pissed that I still love you. You left me at a fucking party, Regina, but I'm still into you. And no matter how much you hurt me, I still want you. Do you know how fucked up that is for me?" (Y/n) sniffed as she tried to hold back her tears. She was not going to cry over this. Again. She refused to.

Regina's mouth was agape as she forced herself to look away from (Y/n). Her jaw clenched, and she felt her own tears welling in her eyes. Only these were real tears, not the fake tears she usually used on people. "I feel bad about leaving you at that party. I should have never done that. Last night, I had a reflection on the treadmill and I realized… I've hurt a lot of people. Most of all, I hurt you at that party because I was scared you would leave me for that college guy. I want to make it up to them, starting with you. I want a second chance." Regina confessed, not knowing how (Y/n) was going to react. "I want to apologize, first. So, I'm sorry." Regina swallowed thickly.

(Y/n) stood there in silence for a moment, thinking about how Regina had left her, drunk at the party with no one she knew. It had stung, but here Regina was, pulling out the stinger. Nodding slowly, she took Regina's hand, intertwining their fingers. Neither of them looked at each other, the silence becoming louder than either anticipated. "I forgive you, and I'll give you a second chance. But I can't just bounce back to being your girlfriend. You can, however; ask me on a date… I will only accept if you promise to apologize to Cady and Janis though. You don't have to do it this second or even today, but you still need to say sorry." (Y/n) said, her thumb running over Regina's knuckles.

Regina felt a bit odd, feeling soft like this. She knew it was the right thing to do though. She really cared about (Y/n) and hated seeing her and Cady rush to escape the Halloween party because of her actions. So, the expectation of apologizing to the girls was only fair. "Okay, I will. I promise. And thank you." Regina whispered. The two stayed there for long moments before they were finally forced to separate, having skipped their last two periods to stand together in silence. As they left, Regina gave (Y/n)'s hand one final squeeze, ready to try again with her. (Y/n) smiled with a nod, ready to tell Janis, Damian, and Cady all about Regina and her unexpected apology.

[loveafterdeath-if]

Update (more like me rambling than an actual update, tbh)

Hope y'all are doing alright! I saw my inbox filled with asks and kind words (y'all are the best, as always), and I'll start answering everything once I wrap up Chap 2, Part 2. I want to focus fully on writing so I can get you the whole chapter before March at least, haha.

I'm gonna start correcting what I've written so far to avoid ending up with 100k words to fix all at once. We're about 50% through Chap 2, Part 2 (38k words, but it'll probably hit 40k with corrections). There are branches that have messed with my brain because I wanted to include scenes for each RO, but I don't regret it. I love games with lots of replayability (is that how we say it?), so I want mine to offer that too.

Chap 2, Part 2 will have a ton of branches for each RO, plus the option if you're not pursuing anyone, so it might take a while to get that full chapter out. I honestly don't know how other authors keep track of so many branches! I've always respected them as a reader/player, but being the one writing makes me wanna hand my future kids over to those incredible authors…

On top of that, I'm dealing with another issue. I've been writing so much that I think I'm slowly slipping into that "They gaze at her and say," "They take the paper and it falls" vibe (is that even a thing? Idk). You know, the kind of writing with no real description. I find myself double-checking everything to make sure the descriptions are 'good,' and I think I'll just play some IFs when I got time, to help me regain my groove without turning phrases all weird (I hate reading books, that's why I'm gonna play IFs). This is making me slow down a bit.

I've been pushing myself to write at least 4-5k words each day for the past 3 (4?) months, and I think I shouldn’t have done that. I'm putting pressure on myself without even realizing it. It's only when I end up with 'only' 3k words that I start feeling upset and push through to hit minimum 4k. I'm feeling good for now and don't mind writing that much, but I really don't want to wake up one day and boom—burnout. A Ko-fi member and some folks in my inbox have kindly reminded me to take breaks and take my time, so I think I'll slow down a bit. Like, maybe aim for 3k words?

I've been writing for years, (started on Wattpad in French, and yeah, it was… something) so no worries about the game going on hiatus or anything. I love writing, especially interactive stuff—so basically IFs, haha. Just wanted to keep you in the loop!

Anyway, this ended up way longer than I intended. Stay safe, don't forget to eat your greens, stay hydrated, and all that! <3

[yoongiseesawmp3]

too sweet - san

summary: model!san x designer!reader. it's love at first sight when you see san. he's perfect...for your runway show! he's the top model right now, and everyone wants him. you want him a little more, but we'll unpack that later. can you get the it boy into your collection?

word count: 8.6k

warnings: afab reader

masterlist

"how many more?" you whine, collapsing onto the table in front of you. your dramatics shuffle all of the model cards out of order after you spent the last hour organizing them. your system is ruined, so your mood goes too. the only thing to pull you back to reality is jen, your right hand man. she pulls you up, encouraging words on her lips, and gets to reordering the cards you just messed up.

"we only have a few more," she reminds you. "and the last few have been good! i think we'll have plenty of options for your show."

"yeah, the girls have been great," you agree. "but the guys are all meh. i thought i was being all forward thinking doing a coed collection but now i wish i hadn't."

"oh come on," jen nudges you. "these guys were hot!"

"they're pretty, but this guy tripped, this one didn't bring a portfolio, and this one has conflicts from now until the show," you list off. "i need at least two more, or i'll have to cut the men's pieces."

"we'll find one," jen ruffles your hair. "you want me to go bring in the next model?"

"nah, we've got a few more minutes on our break," you tell her. "i'm gonna go get a coffee, do you need anything?"

"a water is fine," she replies as you slip out the door. you try to avoid the waiting area so you won't run into any potential models. you make it to the coffee machine down the hall, and of course it's just your luck that there's a tall skinny man already there.

"y/n?" he smiles. "i didn't know this was your show!"

"seonghwa?" you smile back. "i swear, you get taller every time i see you."

"what can i say? i eat my wheaties," he jokes, pulling you in for a polite hug. "how long have you had this gig?"

"few months," you reply. "i've been shitting bricks the whole time."

"i'm sure," he nods. "but you're doing a great job. i've never seen this many top models in the same place for years. everyone wants to walk for you."

"well that's very flattering," you mumble. "but you'd think 'top models' would come more prepared. half of these bozos have not impressed me."

"she's talented and determined," seonghwa notes. "guess i gotta bring my a game."

"i guess you do," you tease him. "hey, you don't know anyone who could come audition before the end of the day, do you? i need more guys."

"i could make a few calls," he thinks. "what do you have in mind?"

"is it too vain to say someone sexy?" you laugh. "we're looking for someone intimidating, good walk, strong features. it's a dramatic piece so i want someone unique."

"i might know a guy," seonghwa nods.

"anyone i'd know?"

"i guess you'll know when you see him," he replies. "i gotta go, i think i'm next, so-"

"right, right, go make yourself pretty," you tell him. "it was so good to see you!"

"you too," he smiles at you genuinely. "proud of you."

"hey, no shmoozing before your audition."

-

seonghwa got a place in your show, obviously. now you only need one more guy. jen convinced you the tripper could work with some help, and there was another model from earlier in the day that you think deserves a call. you still need someone for your final piece, though, and you're running out of hope.

"so how do you know seonghwa again?" jen asks as you wait for the last model to show. "and how well do you know him? and how well would he like to know me?"

"we worked together a few years ago," you laugh. "he was one of the models in my first show."

"so you gave him his big break? he's indebted to you?" jen asks. "he has to make it up to you by, i don't know, going on a date with your best friend and best stylist?"

"we'll see," you frown. "you know i don't like messing with models."

"i hate that rule," jen mumbles as she sits back in her seat. "where's this last model? i wanna go home."

"seonghwa said he pulled a favor getting him here," you explain as you check your phone. "so he might be running behind. i can wait for him if you wanna go."

"no, if he's anything like seonghwa i want to be here to ogle him."

at that, there's a knock at the door, and you call out for them to come in. who steps through the door is maybe the most beautiful man you've ever seen. he's striking, strong, and smiling shyly like he's not used to having eyes on him despite his profession.

"hi, i hope i'm not too late?" he asks, standing by the door.

"no," you quickly reply. "not at all, come in. you're seonghwa's friend?"

"yep," he confirms, walking up to hand you the most professional looking portfolio you've seen all day. and this guy wasn't even expecting to walk! no way you're hiring those other losers now. "i'm san."

"san, hi," you smile at him, and jen stifles a laugh next to you. somebody's smitten, she thinks, but she won't say anything just yet. "i'm y/n, i'm the designer, and this is jen, my stylist."

"nice to meet you," jen presents her hand, and san tentatively shakes it. "firm handshake, i like it. you have soft hands."

"thanks?" he laughs nervously. "um, so do i just-"

"yes, yes," you motion for him to head to the back of the room. "whenever you're ready."

as if you weren't already convinced this was the guy for you (i mean, for your show) then his walk sold it. his presence is so commanding, his movements so precise, and you've never seen someone with such perfect posture. it makes you sit up straighter as he walks toward you, and you almost swoon when he winks at you before turning around. you squeeze jen's hand under the table, and when san finishes his walk you fight the urge to applaud.

"that was great!" jen comments once san is finished. "y/n, what did you think?"

"you're perfect," you breathe out, and jen nudging you brings you back to earth. "uh, for the collection."

"thanks," san smiles proudly. "hopefully i'll hear from you soon."

"hopefully you will," you smile back. "thanks for coming on such short notice."

"it was my pleasure," san says, waving as he ducks out into the hall. as soon as the door is shut, you turn to jen and say, "i love him."

"i know you do," she laughs. "so is he in the show?"

"in the show?" you scoff. "he is the show. he's exactly what i was imagining. i want ten more of him."

"i'm sure you'd like that," she says with a waggle of her eyebrows.

"stop," you roll your eyes. "i just said i don't mess with models."

"mhm," jen nods. "so who else are we casting? we have one spot for sure..."

-

san and seonghwa were cast immediately. well, maybe not immediately. you both looked through their portfolios, ooh'ing and aah'ing over their looks before deciding they had to be in the show. when you and jen decided on the next two male models quickly, you figured this would be an easy discussion. wrong! you have four female models you're willing to fight tooth and nail for, and jen has her own four that she's just as committed to. you've been deliberating for a while now, so you decide to take a break. you head to that same break room you met seonghwa in earlier, and you thought briefly about taking san's portfolio with you. for research purposes, obviously, but you decided against it.

as soon as you step into the hallway, you hear faint sounds of music. not unusual for this studio space, but still, you proceed with caution. you don't want to interrupt anybody, so you walk quietly until you find the the source of the sound. it's san! and he's...dancing?

"oh god, sorry," he bumbles as soon as he sees you. he rushes to his phone, propped against the window in front of him. "god. that's embarrassing."

"what were you doing?" you smile at him.

"embarrassing myself," he mumbles, rubbing the back of his neck. he wiggles his phone in the air and explains, "my agent wants me to post more, says it'll help me get booked, and he sent me a couple tiktok trends he wants me to do. so i was.."

"dancin' your heart out?" you tease, and he blushes.

"you could say that," he smiles shyly, again making it seem like he's not used to having attention on him. does he know he's a model?

"wait, how long have you been out here?" you ask, worried he might have heard you and jen (mostly you) gawking over his portfolio.

"just a few minutes," he shrugs. "part of why i was able to come walk for you is because of another audition i had on the other side of this building. so i was over there for a while, and came back here to humiliate myself in front of my favorite designer, it seems."

"your favorite, huh?" you ask. "good thing we've cast my show already, otherwise i'd think you're sucking up."

"damn, so i'm too late?" san laughs.

"who else is auditioning models here?" you change the subject.

"kim hongjoong?" san says it like a question, and you nod in recognition.

"he's good," you hum. "i hope you don't get it though."

"what?" san balks. "why?"

"because i want you in my show," you shrug. "and i don't wanna fight hongjoong for you, even though i know i'd win."

"you sure about that?" san asks. "he's been working out, i hear."

"oh i could so take him," you assure san. "i'm a biter." you notice a flicker in san's eyes, a hint of something, but you feel yourself blushing and cough so you have an excuse to cover your face. "excuse me. i should probably go, we've got a few more models to cast.."

"wait, so you just drop the bomb that i'm in your show and then you're gone?" san asks, following you down the hall. "how do i know you're serious?"

"because you have my word," you furrow your eyebrows. "but if you really need the confirmation, i'm sure my people will call your people soon." as if on cue, san's phone starts buzzing, still perched on the window. san looks to it, then you. you feel vindicated as you turn and walk on to the break room with a flick of your hair over your shoulder, leaving a stunned model and the smell of peaches in your wake.

-

all the models have been cast, and it's the morning of your first fitting. you slept in your studio last night because you had so much work to do. it was mostly tiny alterations to ensure the pieces fit their new models, but you also spent half the night cleaning. you don't let people into your studio usually, or if you do, it's people that know you well enough to know you and your work are a mess. but today, you're the boss. you need to look put together, and so does your studio.

you're standing by the door, taking everything in, and decide that this is as clean as you'll get it. there's still fabric, zippers, stray threads strewn all over your work tables, but you're a designer. that's normal. if the models have complaints they can deal. being next to the door, you hear something in the hall, but write it off as one of your artistic neighbors at work. you start to walk away, toward your coffee station in the back, when the doorknob to your studio jiggles. you hear a quiet "shit" and then a polite knock, so you walk over cautiously. one look through the peephole reveals who it is.

"san?" you ask, opening the door. "what are you doing here?"

"realizing i am," he checks his ridiculously expensive watch, "an hour early for my fitting. sorry." he adds a sheepish smile at the end and you fight the urge to coo. he looks like he just woke up, and that he definitely rushed here. his clothes are mussed, hair in a beanie to hide it not being done, eyes puffy with sleep. still, he looks perfect.

"was the email confusing?" you ask. "i was worried that-"

"no," he shakes his head. "no, i was just, um, i'm really excited," he explains shyly. "i almost couldn't sleep last night, so when i woke up this morning i thought i had overslept. i should've checked."

"no worries," you say as you blush. he was excited? for a fitting? man must love his job. "here, come in. i just finished cleaning, so you get first dibs on space. there's a couch in the back if you want to nap before we get started."

"how long have you been here?" san asks, looking around at the studio. he sees a lot of chaos, but it's beautiful chaos. colors that compliment each other perfectly, strange techniques that have made something stunning. he can't believe he'll be part of this show.

"uh, since last night," you admit, finally reaching your coffee machine. "i had a lot to do."

"you slept here?" san frowns, tossing his stuff onto a table before joining you. he leans against the wall as he watches you.

"yeah," you shrug. "i hate waking up early, so it saved me from getting here grumpy if anything."

"but did you rest?" he asks, looking out at the studio. "this is a big space for one person to clean."

"jen helped," you tell him. "she was here last night to bring over the shoes for each outfit."

"which one is mine?" san asks with an eager smile.

"wouldn't you like to know?" you stick your tongue out at him for good measure. "yours isn't out here. it's so big i had to keep it in my office, i couldn't move it out here by myself."

"it's big?" he looks a little scared.

"that may not be the right word," you think. "it's heavy, so that's why i needed someone strong to wear it."

"you think i'm strong?" san smirks, and you blush. "how'd you know?"

your mind thinks to his portfolio still sitting on your desk, full to the brim of him in scantily clad photoshoots. you've seen pictures of his chest, his abs, his arms. muscles that had to take hours in the gym to sculpt. you wonder shyly if his portfolio is still on your desk, open to a picture of him in a pink outfit with a hint of his chest on display. you'll have to cover it quickly if it is.

"i asked seonghwa how you two met, and he said you go to the same snooty model gym," you explain, which is the truth. seonghwa had been in a couple shows with san before they became friends, but it took the two of them working out together to actually become buddies. they've been looking out for each other ever since, seonghwa told you. san seems to think your explanation was enough, so he hums and nods before turning his attention back to your collection.

"so how did you and seonghwa meet?" he asks casually. you tell him about your first show, as an independent designer no less, and how seonghwa found you stress crying backstage. as you always do when describing seonghwa, you stress how your relationship was friendly, but nothing more. you never want anyone to think you're fooling around with one of your models. but san finds himself thinking, hm, that means seonghwa isn't his competition.

"do you want anything to drink?" your voice pulling san from his thoughts. he looks at you, cupping a warm mug of coffee, and smiles.

"no, thank you," he says. "i try not to have anything before a fitting, i never want to mess up the sizing and put more work on the designer."

"san that doesn't sound healthy," you frown. "and what kind of designer is sticking you in clothes so skin tight you can't have a glass of water? i need names."

"it's a lot of them, i'm afraid," he laughs. "most people cast me expecting to show off my abs, or something else, so i don't have much space to mess up during show season."

"yeah, you are always showing some kind of skin," you think about it.

"you been studying me?" san teases, and you blush.

"i'm a designer, it's my job," you mumble. "i reviewed everyone's portfolio thoroughly."

"what was seonghwa's last shoot then?" san quizzes you. you make a guess, but you get it wrong. "and what was mine?"

"vogue, right?" you answer immediately, and san responds with a shit eating grin.

"i'm so telling hwa i'm your favorite model now," he says, resting against the wall again as he folds his arms over his chest. his very muscled arms, and his broad-

"knock knock!" jen shouts from the door. she steps inside and asks, "you know you didn't lock this- oh hey san."

"good morning," he nods to her. "nice to see you again."

"nice to see you too, so bright and early," jen says as she looks at you. "how long have we been here?"

"me since last night, san since a few minutes ago. he didn't read the email."

"i read the email!" he whines. "i was just excited!"

"that's sweet," jen coos as she dumps bags onto one of your worktables. "i hope i'm not interrupting anything?"

"jen, do you have a favorite model?" san asks, and she thinks for a moment.

"no, i don't," she shakes her head. "there's too many good ones, so it depends on the day. why do you ask?"

"i just found out i'm y/n's favorite," san explains with a smile.

"you just found out?" jen laughs, and you groan. san looks like he's gonna say something else but you speak before he can.

"hey, since y'all are both here, come help me move this table," you command. "we need space for the models to walk." they do as you say, but share a knowing look while you're distracted. it's a bad thing to have your best friend and your crush in cahoots, but you'll figure that out later.

-

since san was here early, you got to work on his fitting first. jen finished setting up the workroom while you and san went to your office. jen made a show of putting headphones in to listen to music, and you wanted to pinch her so hard. she's making it obvious that you have a thing for san, and you're hoping beyond hope he doesn't notice.

"oh my god," he whispers when you open the door to your office, revealing the piece you've dedicated the past few months to. "that's incredible."

"you like it?" you turn to him, unsure. "it's a lot, i know."

"i love it," he smiles from ear to ear. "i've never worn something like this before."

"i hope no one has," you laugh nervously. "i tried a technique to emulate fur, so i'm hoping this is a super cool fashion innovation that'll take the industry by storm."

"how'd you do it?" san asks, looking at the piece in awe. "and how long did it take?"

"so, i shredded pounds and pounds of natural fabric until it looked so fine it could be a better alternative to faux fur," you explain. "and it took me about...four months?" san whistles lowly, his hands twitching at his sides. "you can touch it if you want."

"i want to put it on," he turns to you excitedly. "how do you want me to wear it?"

"don't hate me," you beg. "since this is such a big piece, and i want it to draw attention, i don't have a shirt for you."

"that's ok," san nods. "adds to the natural element."

"exactly," you smile, blushing anyway. "and there's just white pants underneath, for contrast. they should be super comfy, to make up for the workout you'll get walking around in the jacket."

"i can't wait," san says happily. he turns to you fully, looking between the outfit and you. "do you want me to strip, or...?"

"oh god, let me turn around," you say. "the pants are on the desk. let me know when you have them on."

"you're very polite," san chuckles. "most designers try to manage every single thing, including how models get dressed."

"it's pants," you scoff. "if you can't put pants on how did you get out the house?"

"i'm ready," he says, and you turn back to find him in the pants, yes, but still with his shirt on.

"um, do you mind?" you ask, tugging at the neckline of your own shirt hoping he gets the hint. it distracts him just enough that you have to call his name, and he looks at you with a hum. "can you, uh, take your shirt off?" he responds with actions, pulling his shirt off in one swift motion. you squeak out, "great!" and then shuffle toward the mannequin. "i might need help lifting this."

"no worries," he hurries to your aid, his hands brushing yours as you push the jacket off the form. "wow, this is no joke."

"if it's too heavy i can-"

"i can handle it," san says firmly. "help me into it?"

you hold up one side while san slips his arm in, and then help him into the rest. you take a step closer, trying to fasten the clasp on the front, but it won't meet. you struggle for a minute, hands ghosting so softly over san's chest. he doesn't realize he's holding his breath until your voice pulls him from his focus.

"what?" he looks down at you. "why are you frowning? it looks great."

"it doesn't fit over your chest," you pout. "i thought i had your measurements right-"

"oh, sorry, i've been working out," san admits. "and i think i gave you an old portfolio since i was in a rush, so my information may not be up to date..."

"shit," you mumble, and san tries to fix the situation. he starts tugging at the jacket, but you gasp and grab his hands, stilling them instantly. you look at him sternly as you instruct, "i'll make it fit, you just have to wear it. please don't do my job for me."

"sorry," san whispers. you're so close he could just lean down and kiss that pout from your lips, but that wouldn't be professional of him. but boy does he want to.

"before you take it off, let me find your shoes," you look around. "i want to see the whole look together...maybe jen knows where they are."

you open your office door and peek your head out, gasping at what you find. jen is pushed up against one of your work tables, and seonghwa is standing before her holding her waist like she could slip away at any moment. they're making out like they've done this before, and you clear your throat to get their attention.

"hi," seonghwa mewls. "this isn't what it looks like."

"looks like two of my employees are goofing off when they should be doing their jobs," you mumble, wandering around the studio. "jen, where are san's shoes?"

"um, by the door?" she guesses. "i didn't see his outfit in here, so i didn't know where to put them."

"it's in my office," you respond. "that's why i took him in there."

"i didn't know," she shrugs. you find the shoes and then glare at them, but neither one takes you seriously.

"seonghwa, your outfit is labeled with your name. it's an easy piece, simple closures, so you shouldn't need any help getting it on," you explain. "jen, come here. we have a problem."

"holy shit, you look awesome," jen says as soon as she sees san. she looks at you and asks, "what's wrong with it?"

"his chest is too broad," you frown again, staring at san's chest. "i can't get the jacket to close."

"he can't hold it when he walks?" jen suggests, and san tries it out. you start shaking your head before he finishes, and he actually whines when he sees your reaction.

"no, it's gonna fall off your shoulders if you do that," you say. "i want it to stay in place, and i need the clasp to work for that to happen."

"so what are you gonna do?" jen asks.

"not sleep until i fix it?" you reply. you look at her in defeat and add, "i don't know what else i can do."

"can i help?" san offers, but you shake your head again as jen says, "yes, you can." you try to protest, but she cuts you off.

"he can cut the initial shreds!" she offers. "then you do your magic putting them into the jacket. it takes out a step for you so hopefully it'll be quicker."

"what she said," san butts in. "let me help, please."

"i can't pay you for your extra time," you say softly. "i don't want to impose-"

"don't care," san shakes his head. "i've got nothing else going on."

"perfect!" jen claps her hands together. "you two figure that out, i'm gonna check on hwa..."

-

the rest of the fitting goes well. it's perfect, actually. you have the best models you've ever worked with, every piece fits, and the collection looks beautiful all together. you tear up watching them all walk before you, and the piece san is wearing literally makes a hush fall over the room. he still walks toward you with a wink, but this time it doesn't affect you as much. you're too focused on how much time it'll take to add a couple more inches to the coat. when san finishes, everyone looks to you expectantly, and it takes jen calling your name for your mind to catch up with your mouth.

"i don't know what to say," you admit. "you all did an amazing job, and this was just a fitting! imagine what this show will look like on a real stage. um, a couple things to note..."

once you finish your boss spiel, the models all start changing and leave one by one. you make sure to thank them all before they leave, and in a few minutes it's just you, jen, and san left.

"seonghwa didn't wanna stick around?" you ask jen.

"you scared him," she replies. "he left so fast i'm surprised he didn't leave a trail of smoke."

"i'll talk to him," you brush it off. "keep your paws off him in my studio though."

"no promises," jen sighs, gathering her things. "i need to go get another pair of heels for our tall girl, so do you need anything else from me before i go?"

"a hug?" you think. "i couldn't have done this without you."

"she loves me!" jen says to san, and he smiles encouragingly.

"you two are amazing," san says. "i don't know how just two people put together such a stunning show."

"lots of work," you say.

"i cried a few times," jen adds.

"we both did," you conclude. "but it was fun, so it was worth it. right?"

"fun, sure!" jen agrees.

"get out of here," you push her playfully. "please rest. no boys."

"you too," jen wags her finger at you. then to san, "don't let her work too hard!"

"i'll try my best," he salutes her, and jen leaves with a laugh. he turns to you and asks, "what can i help with?"

"i need to buy more fabric," you think. "so if you want to grab food while i-"

"no, we'll both grab food, and then fabric," san decides. "or fabric then food. either way, i'm buying your lunch."

"but-"

"nope," he pulls you into his side and walks toward the door. "can't work hard on an empty stomach!"

-

you find yourself enjoying san's company more than you were expecting. he's easy to talk to, easy to laugh with, and he's so kind. he insisted on buying your lunch, even though that was going to be your payment to him for helping. he even tried to buy the extra fabric, claiming it's his fault you had to buy more anyway. you get back to your studio, smiles on both your faces, and get to work.

"so we need these in strips about an inch wide," you explain as you lay a few yards of fabric out on a work table. "tear them into strips, then we'll cut them in half, and then i can start shredding and adding them to the coat. sound good?"

"got it, captain," san nods. "how many do you need?"

"i don't know yet," you make a face. "you're a big guy."

"i'm just so strong," san rolls his eyes, flexing a little bit as he does.

"stop that," you laugh. "get to work. you want music on?"

"yeah, whatever you wanna listen to," san says as he straightens the fabric. you watch as he measures carefully, taking the fabric cutter over the material slowly. he holds up his first strip, looking to you for approval. "is this good?"

"perfect," you tell him. "now make like a thousand more."

"what are you gonna do while i work, hm?" san asks. "i've got a lot to do and you're just gonna watch me?"

"gotta make sure you're doing it right," you reply. "but i need to pack up some of these other pieces, they're getting shipped to the venue in the morning. my least favorite part of the job."

"how many shows have you done now?" san asks, and you fall into comfortable conversation with him while you work. you get most of the collection packed up before you know it, so you walk over to his table to check on his progress.

"not bad for a model," you say as you inspect the pieces. "you could make a mean designer's assistant."

"you in the market for one?" san asks, and you notice how close you are. he's a little taller than you, so all you'd have to do is stand on your toes and- "what are you thinking about?"

"what?" you whisper, taking a step back. san's hand catches your waist, holding you in place.

"what were you thinking about, just now?" he asks again. "you were staring."

"you're a model, i'd expect you'd be used to everyone staring at you," you whisper back.

"you're not everyone," he says softly. his eyes flit down to your lips, and before you can think you lean in and kiss him. it's quick, barely a touch, but you kissed him, and his hand on your waist tightens. when you look up at him, he's blushing. "what was that for?"

"um, for helping me with your outfit?" you reply.

"anything else you need my help with?" san smirks.

"san, i'm sorry, i shouldn't have done that," you whisper.

"yeah, you pulled back too quickly," he pouts.

"no," you laugh shyly. "no, um, i have a rule that i don't mess around with my models."

"got it," san sighs. "bummer, but i understand."

"i should start shredding these," you say, grabbing a pile of fabric. san's still holding onto you though, so you look at him expectantly. "you gonna let me go?"

"you don't mess with models, ever?" san asks. "or is it just models that are working for you?"

"um, the second one," you think. "but san-"

"then we'll talk about this again when the show is over," san says with finality. "i don't mind waiting."

"as long as you can keep things professional," you tell him.

"says the one who kissed me," san teases.

"whatever," you roll your eyes. "i'm gonna go work on the jacket."

"um, do you think these are enough strips for now?" san asks sheepishly. "i actually have to leave for an audition..."

"my god," you look at the time. "please, go. i'm sorry i kept you for so long."

"i'll come back when i'm done," san says like it's nothing. "i don't really want this show anyway, but my agent booked it, so i have to go."

"that's good to hear," you mumble. "because i don't like sharing."

"make sure you take a break while i'm gone," san points at you accusingly.

"go to your audition," you say as you walk to your office. "i'll be here when you get back."

-

san thinks about you the whole time he's gone. he breezes through the audition and gets an offer before he leaves, but after being in your show this designer seems scattered, unprofessional, and just not as good as you. his collection is fine, but it's nothing impressive. san can't wait to get back to your studio and see the progress on your coat, but when he knocks at the door there's no response. he waits, tries again, and still nothing. he tries the door and it opens easily, so san wanders in calling out your name. he doesn't see you in the work room, but there's a light on in your office.

"y/n?" he calls, stopping at the door when he sees you slumped over your desk, snoring softly. he looks at the mannequin next to you and lets out a gasp. it's more dramatic now with more fabric, and san thinks briefly it'll be even heavier to wear. he doesn't care though. right now, he's more concerned about getting you to someplace you can rest.

"you're back," you mumble, sitting up as you rub your eyes. "i fell asleep."

"i see that," san chuckles. he walks over to you and holds his arms out. "come on, we gotta get you home."

"what are you doing?" you ask, letting out a shriek when san picks you up. you hit his back weakly, but he carries you out of your office, through your studio, turning lights off as he goes.

"where's your bag?" san asks. you point and he carries you still, handing your things to you before doing a sweep of the studio. "ready to go?"

"where are we going?" you mumble into his shoulder. "i was sleeping just fine-"

"i'm taking you home," san says. "you need to sleep in a bed. not hunched over your desk."

"why are you being so nice to me?" you whisper as you nuzzle into him further. he doesn't reply, but you wouldn't hear it anyway. you drift off in his arms, only waking up when san slides you into the passenger seat of his car.

"you know how to get home from here, sleepyhead?" san asks as he ruffles your hair. you type your address into your phone, handing it to him before he closes the door carefully to rush to the driver's side. he laughs nervously when he sits down and finds you staring, so he asks, "what? too much?"

"i really want to kiss you again," you admit.

"but you can't," san coos. "remember your silly rules?"

"hmph, i was gonna say screw my rules, but then you made fun of me, so-"

"no, no i take it back!" san cries, but you turn and lay your head against the window. you smile to yourself as san begs you to turn back around, giggling as he tugs on your arm. you pretend to snore and san gives up, but his hand has moved from tugging your arm to just holding your hand. you stay like that the whole way home.

-

the runway show is tomorrow. you still aren't done with san's jacket. and you still aren't sure what to do since you kissed him. jen has ideas, though.

"climb him like a tree," she tells you for the nth time as she helps you unpack outfits at the venue. "he sooo wants you. and you sooo want him."

"doesn't matter who wants who," you mumble as you try to hold at least three pins by your teeth. you're securing a new zipper to your favorite dress. it wouldn't be a runway show without things falling apart last minute, and you could have punched a wall when you unpacked this dress to find the zipper literally holding on by a thread.

"the show is tomorrow, y/n," jen says sternly. "you can't hide behind your silly 'no models' rule for much longer."

"i won't," you assure her. she looks at you surprised, but she can't ask any follow ups because there are voices coming from the entrance.

"hello?" seonghwa calls out. you yell back that you're backstage, and when he appears he immediately finds jen to pull her into a hug.

"what are you doing here?" you ask him. "you don't have a fitting today."

"i brought him for moral support," san says from behind you. he's so close, and you didn't hear him come up, so it makes you jump. his hands fly to your waist, trying to soothe you, but the touch makes you jump too. "why are you so skittish?"

"i'm stressed," you respond, stepping away so you can find his coat. you look over your shoulder as you tell him, "the jacket still isn't done."

"what?" he whines. "do i need to tear more fabric?"

"no," you laugh. "just come here." he joins you further among the mess that is your collection, following closely behind you through the maze of clothing racks. you stop by his mannequin, turning to find him still incredibly close to you. "it just needs a clasp. as long as you didn't get broader over night."

"no promises," he smirks before pulling his shirt off. "can you help me get it on?"

"you've never needed my help before," you frown as you try avoid staring at his chest.

"yeah well, it's like ten pounds heavier now," san says. "and i'm just so weak..."

"bullshit," you laugh, helping him lift the coat anyway. you hold one side for him while he slips his arm in, then help him hold onto the other. "ok, stay here." you scurry off to get your sewing kit, and san finds jen's gaze through the clothes. she gives him a thumbs up and an exaggerated wink, and he stifles a laugh as you come back. you're holding more pins between your teeth, and san cries out. "what?"

"that can't be safe," he says as he reaches for one, but ends up pricking himself. "ouch."

"no touching," you mumble. "and hold the jacket like this." you guide his hands to hold the coat in place, and san watches intently as you work. you have to hand sew extra buttons on to support the new weight, so it takes a while. san tries to talk to you, but he's so worried about the pins in your mouth he can't focus.

"let me hold these," he grumbles, carefully pulling a pin from your lips. he takes the rest and cups them in his hand, accidentally pricking himself again. "ouch."

"that's what you get," you laugh. "you didn't have to hold them for me, i'm an expert at this by now."

"yeah, but if you had pins in your mouth, i couldn't do this," san says as he uses his free hand to cup your chin. he looks down at you with a smile before he kisses you. he kisses you and holds you against him, his lips so soft on yours. you sigh into the kiss, lost in the feeling of having him so close to you. you can feel his heart beating in his chest, and your hand that had been gripping the coat falls to his warm skin. you push him away, a little gasp on your lips when it hits you what's happened.

"what happened to being ok with waiting?" you ask him, and his head falls to your neck, leaving one kiss against your skin before he pulls back.

"i forgot," he whispers.

"well remember at least until i finish these buttons," you tell him.

"and then what?"

"then you gotta show me your walk," you say. the way you look up at him makes san want to kiss you again, but he does his best to refrain. you hold your hand out for the pins, and you put them back in your sewing kit as you say, "in a few minutes, your coat will finally be done."

"can't wait," san hums, his hands back to holding the jacket in place. "but i admit i'll miss having a reason for you to be so close to me."

"i'm sure you'll find more," you mumble, focusing on the last button. when it's sturdy enough to hold weight, you try securing the jacket together just enough for it to stay on san's shoulders. "hands off," you instruct, and san moves his hands from the coat to your shoulders. "hands to yourself."

"aw," he pouts. you start to walk away and he follows, but you tell him to stay put.

"stay there, then walk toward me," you direct him. "i wanna see how it moves now."

"you want me to go full model mode?" san asks. "can you handle it?"

"just show me," you groan, and the cocky grin on san's face should've warned you. it's like he changes into another person, his demeanor completely different. you realize now that the san you know is not model san, because the man before you is...intimidating? you almost back up as he walks toward you, his gait powerful and his stare petrifying. everything is so dramatic and the movement matches the coat perfectly. he still winks at you as he comes closer and turns, moving the coat so each layer of fabric, each shred explodes into an arc before you. san finishes his walk, turning over his shoulder with a shy smile on his face. he's back to the san you know as he asks, "how was that?"

"you're perfect," you stammer out, mimicking your words from the first time san walked for you. "for the collection. for this piece. everything. this is exactly what i imagined."

"good," his smile widens. "and the weight isn't too bad. it's distributed better now."

"good," you cough, trying to calm yourself down. watching that made everything real to you. this show is happening tomorrow. your nerves are hitting you now, and san can tell.

"are you ok?" he asks, rushing to your aide. he looks like he's going to pull you into a hug when you hear jen calling for you somewhere, and you disappear before san gets a chance.

-

the hours leading up to the show are a blur. in the hours leading up to the show, you are a blur. you don't stay still for more than a few minutes at a time. there's just so much for you to do, so many people to talk to, and so many people that need your help. a stylist asking your opinion. a model with loose threads down her back. a man with pleading eyes that you know is watching you from afar, ready to jump in if you collapse from nerves, or exhaustion, or both. you find jen at the accessories table, helping a model find bangles that won't fall off her arm as she walks. you grab onto jen, leaning in closely to rest your head against hers.

"i'm so tired," you whine. "and scared. and sweaty."

"ew, then get off me," jen pushes you away playfully. she finishes up with the model and sends her away before asking, "are you ok though? really?"

"why did i think dressing san without a shirt would be a good idea?" you whisper to her, watching him as he laughs with seonghwa about something. it's like he can feel your eyes on him, because he looks toward you and winks.

"because it is a good idea," jen says. "and he's not gonna be shirtless for long. you need to go help him into the coat, the show's about to start."

"shit," you curse, checking the time. "i have so much to do-"

"wait!" jen shouts, holding you in place. "something's missing."

"my will to go on?"

"no, you need lipstick," jen decides. she digs into the bag at her hip and finds the perfect pink shade for you. it matches your dress (that you designed) and it matches the warm pinks that you sprinkled into the collection. "there. you're ready."

"no i'm not," you mumble. "i didn't get to practice my welcome speech."

"go practice it with san!" jen pushes you in his direction. "five minutes!"

your palms get sweaty the closer you get to san. you're not sure if it's him, or the running countdown in your head reminding you that your show is about to happen. when you finally make it to san, he's alone, and he's smiling at you nervously.

"time for the coat?" he asks. you nod, and he follows you to the mannequin in the back. "how do you feel?"

"like i'm gonna pass out."

"i'll catch you," san jokes.

"arms up please," you squeak out. he helps you lift the coat silently, sliding into it like it's the most comfortable thing in the world. "and just let me secure it..."

"y/n," san whispers. "look at me." you don't listen, fussing over the buttons instead. you're smoothing out the warm pink fabric as san's hands cover yours, stilling them over his chest. "breathe for a second."

"i'm freaking out," you admit, looking up at him. "i have to go out there, and do a speech, and then watch my clothes, my life for the past year, all be judged by these strangers, and-"

"and you've done it before, and you survived," san smiles softly. "you're pretty great at this, in case you didn't know."

"but-"

"nope," he shakes his head. "it'll be great."

"it will," you say unsurely.

"say it like you mean it."

"the show will be great," you declare, and san squeezes your hands before he lets them go.

"and then after the show..." san trails off, and you feel your heart start to race. "i don't know, maybe i could take you out to celebrate?"

"san, i can't think about that right now," you shake your head. "i can't-"

the stage manager starts calling out models for the line up, and san looks away sadly. he nods like he's got his answer and starts to walk away, but you pull him back. you don't say anything, just cup his chin and leave a delicate kiss on his cheek.

"we'll talk after the show," you whisper. the stage manager calls for him again, and he looks at you one more time before he leaves. you let out a nervous breath, checking your reflection in the vanity next to you. it's now or never. you walk up to the side of the stage, and your heart drops to your ass. something is wrong.

"what's going on?" you hiss, walking up to find make up artists swarming san. "this can't be happening."

"you did this," one of the artists whisper shouts back, pointing to san's cheek. fuck. the lipstick. your lipstick left a bright pink mark on his skin. "we don't have time to fix it!"

"then don't," san shrugs. "i like it."

"y/n?" the stage manager looks at you. "we have one minute. are we fixing this?"

"uh, n-no," you stammer, and the crowd disperses, leaving you and san again. "here, i can wipe it-"

"don't," san swats your hands away. "now i'll have a piece of you with me while i walk."

"you're wearing my clothes, you already had a piece of me with you," you tell him.

"yeah, but this one's just for me," he smiles. "plus the lipstick matches my jacket."

"y/n, you're on!" jen grabs you, a gleeful look on her face. "oh, your lipstick is smudged."

"i don't know how you planned that, but i hate you for it," you say as you try to hide your smile.

"i just thought it would be a cute touch for photos later," she smiles as she fixes the smudge and reapplies more. "i didn't know you'd go around kissing him, marking your territory."

"that's not what i did," you blush.

"we don't have time to argue about this," she pushes you toward the stage entrance. "go be great!"

-

you're able to introduce the collection without tripping or fumbling over your words, so you'll call that a win. even bigger win: the collection is a hit. each piece got the reaction you wanted, but the show stopper was definitely san. the crowd hushed when he walked out, and they went wild when he got to the end of the runway with his flourish move he showed you the other night. as you watch the show backstage, you blush when you see the lipstick mark shining under the bright lights.

it ends up being a hit, almost as much as the coat itself. fashion bloggers lauded it as a perfect touch, basically sealing the collection with a kiss. they also speculated about your relationship with san, which certainly wasn't helped by the fact that he held your hand tightly in his as the collection walked the runway all together. san lifted your hand in triumph as you made it to the end of the stage, and he lets go, stepping back so you can have your moment. you soak it in as long as you can take, then scurry back to his side and grab his hand as you run backstage. he lifts you into a hug as soon as the curtain closes behind you, surrounded by cheers and models talking about how great the show was.

"put me down!" you squeal, swatting at san's chest so he'll let you go. "i need to talk to everybody."

"you can do it from up there," san says. you don't think you'll win this one, and he's right. it might be easier to address your models and your team from a few inches higher up.

"first of all, thank you," you say sincerely. "i wouldn't have a show without you all, and i had the best show because of you all. so thank you. if i could make you all vow to only ever work with me forever until the end of time, i would, but that's not ethical. so instead i'll say: you all have a spot in any show i do for the rest of my career. thank you. thankyouthankyouthankyou."

the crowd thins out as models get undressed, artists pack up their things, and the stage crew follows everyone around to remind them to clean up after themselves. miraculously, you and san are alone again.

"so," he hums. "i walked good?"

"you didn't trip," you nod.

"everyone loved it," san smiles.

"they loved you," you say, busying yourself with straightening the coat again.

"all i care about is what you thought."

"i've told you already," you start. "you're perfect."

"you say that, but earlier i think you were about to turn me down," san laughs nervously.

"what?" you're confused. "oh, i didn't finish. i was gonna say i can't go out with you tonight, but i'm free tomorrow."

"tomorrow? you'd make me wait so long?" san smirks.

"i have a business dinner to go to tonight," you explain. "so unless you wanna be my arm candy for the people who sponsored the show, then yes, you have to wait so long."

"i'm good at being arm candy," san says. "it's basically my job."

"fine," you shrug. "then put a shirt on and come with me?"

[churipu]

Hi! ☺️ First and foremost, I hope you're doing well. Also, I just recently found your page and I love your writing!

I really liked your post on the super sensitive reader with the jjk men. Can I get headcanons of the jjk men with reader who is very stoic and a little emotionally constipated? Like they have never seen reader cry ever while in their relationship together, but then reader ends up having a hard week and ends up crying from frustration.

jjk men & their emotionally constipated partner

featuring. shiu kong, itadori yuuji, todo aoi, geto suguru x reader

warnings. cursing and jjk men being sweet and soft to their partner <;33

note. hi anon! i'm doing great, hbu love? thank you for liking my works, you don't know how much that means to me, i hope you have a great day! and thank you for requesting, i find this request very interesting <33 also, thank you guys for the big amount of support i've been receiving for the last two days, can you imagine i gained like 140+ followers in that matter of time? i'm going to start violently sobbing istg. anw, i hope u sexies enjoy this <33

SHIU KONG. shiu loves you a lot, even if you struggle in showing the love back to him, he knows you love him a lot. shiu would receive random messages (mostly a picture of something and then you tell him that it reminded you of him, probably deemed as your love language now). i feel like shiu is partly happy that you don't take things into the heart - but at times he'd be very worried about you. you never cry, you almost never get angry at him even if he did something wrong (you'd just tell him it's nothing and you weren't mad, but he sometimes think it's because you didn't want to engage yourself in arguments), and hell, he barely sees you smile at all.

shiu has heard you tell stories about your new work place, which you quote unquote as toxic. and you've been in the company for no longer than three months, but the stories about your very annoying co-worker and your boss never stops. he swore that the topic of your work place was the only thing that could get you riled up.

i feel like shiu would be the type of boyfriend who would tell you to stop working because he's financially stable enough to provide for you, but you decline telling him that you didn't want to live off of him.

shiu didn't force you to stop or quit your job though, he'd be glad to listen to you talk about your days at work.

"y/n? you're ho— darling, what happened?" he saw the solemn look on your face and realized that something must have happened (yet again) at your work place, he dropped the cigar that was lodged in between his lips and immediately approached you.

you shook your head, inhaling sharply before kicking off your shoes, "work, of course."

"is it your boss? or that same co-worker again?" shiu knew that it was either your boss or this one co-worker who doesn't seem to enjoy your presence in the office.

"both." you sat down on the couch, throwing your head back in exhaustion (you were about to cry and the only way to stop your tears from coming out was to just force it back in with your head back), "i'm getting my paycheck reduced this month."

shiu took a seat next to you, "why?"

"i was blamed for something my co-worker did, this is so unfair," your voice cracked a little and shiu pulled you into a hug, you choked out a sob, "this is so unfair," you muttered out, your pent out anger and disappointment finally seeping out in a form of tears.

"hey, shh..." he soothes you, pulling back to see your tearful eyes. he grazed over your cheek to wipe the droplets away, "let me take care of them, yeah?"

you shook your head, "don't have to, i don't want to make this into a bigger mess."

shiu planted a kiss on your forehead, "don't worry about it darling, you trust me, don't you?"

"yes."

shiu had a "talk" with your boss and your co-worker the very next day and your co-worker ended up resigning right after, and your boss, well they never bothered you anymore (and you're getting an extra paycheck for the next half a year).

ITADORI YUUJI. people always wonder how you and itadori ended up with each other. him being this ray of sunshine, and you were like the moon. but he didn't care about what everyone says, he loves you — and that's what matter, right?

wrong. don't think that you didn't notice the enormous shit talking about you behind your back, about how you probably bribed itadori into dating you and what not. usually, you'd shove all those down the drain and forget about it.

but for some reason, you couldn't help but to rethink about what they said. how itadori isn't too fit for you, or how you don't deserve him at all. the only thing that managed to trigger you was how somebody said that itadori deserves someone more "emotionally available" for him, and that person isn't you.

you never liked being emotionally constipated, people always talk about you behind your back, saying how you're so distant and that being the reason you don't have any friends. you keep telling yourself that you're used to it when it comes to you, but when it comes to itadori and your relationship — you feel helpless.

"y/n? are you okay?"

you looked up at him, a glint of worry flashing in his eyes. and you can't help but to feel the frustration building in you as you remember the words people say to you, "yes..no? i don't kno—" you choked out, smacking your hand on top of your mouth at the sound you let out.

it just got worse when you feel the tears you've been penting up for the past few weeks come out. itadori blinked feverishly, a little surprised to see you crying like this. he has never seen you cry before, "y/n..?" he breathes out, his hand reaching out to you, but you moved back, trying to avoid his touch.

the embarrassment you felt was horrid, you hated crying in front of people, even your own boyfriend, "baby," itadori mutters out seriously, grabbing your arms and then pulling them away from your face, "tell me what's wrong. talk to me."

i feel like he knew where this was going, he had a hunch. for the past few weeks, you asked him about why he was with you, why he loves you when there were better people out there (you think). and he knew it was because of what people said.

"i...i just don't think i'm the right one for you, yuuji. they're right, you need a more emotionally available partner."

itadori's face fell when you said that, and he shook his head, pulling you into his embrace. rocking back and forth like a baby, "why would you say that? why would you listen to them y/n?" he asks quietly.

"i...don't know."

he pulled away, brows furrowed and he held your shoulders, "you're perfect for me, i don't give a fuck what they said about you and i. the next time someone says something, i'm going to beat them up," the thing is, he looked so serious you couldn't help but to chuckle.

"you just chuckled.." he breathes out, "my life is complete."

TODO AOI. he's very boisterous, and i feel like he'd be the type of person who would defend his partner everywhere they go. when you accepted his feelings, he was surprised since he never expected you to like someone like him. but he was pretty damn proud of you, and as a boyfriend, he shows you off like a trophy.

telling people about how amazing you are, how you make him happy, or how you treat him nicely. but people are fucking judgmental, some of them don't like the idea of others living happily — and you never thought that "these" particular people would target you next for it.

saying how fucking weird todo is for liking someone like you, and you had to be honest, it did get into you. and so began your avoidance to your own boyfriend, todo.

he hates it. he hated how you changed out of the blue, no matter how hard he tries to reach out for you, you weren't the same anymore and he never got why you decided to change.

believe me when i say that he tried asking his friends about it, or about tips to get you to talk to him. but really, they weren't much of a help, saying how you probably got bored and is avoiding him so he would be the one to break up first with you.

todo didn't want to let the idea of that get into him, but after a few weeks of you avoiding him non-stop, he began thinking the same thing. were you bored of him? did he do something that you didn't like? or is it because he ate the last chocolate chip cookie you were saving up and blamed it on someone else?

so when he got the chance to bump into you, he immediately took it as a chance to ask you about it.

"why are you avoiding me?" you tried ending the conversation right away by going the other way, but man is fast fast so he didn't let you — still wanting to know about the sudden change in your behavior.

todo knows how you didn't like being cornered, or how you don't like talking about the relationship, sappy shit. but if he didn't talk to you about this, todo knew he was going to regret it.

"y/n," he grabbed the back of your collar, pulling you back lightly, "did i do something wrong?"

you were silent for a few seconds before todo's ears perked up at the sound of soft, choked out sobs. you were crying. you were crying. and the panic sinks in, "i..i'm sorry, did i pull on your collar too hard?!" he panics, flailing his arms.

you shook your head, "...no, i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo stopped his panicking and stood up straight, "i couldn't stop thinking about what people have to say about us, and now that i think about it, i feel like you deserve more than me," todo widened his eyes and looked around.

"who the fuck said that? i'm going to beat them up so bad people won't recognize them," todo mutters out and the corner of your lips tugged upward, "is that why you're avoiding me?"

you nod, "it was wrong. i know i should've said something about it. i'm sorry for avoiding you."

todo laid his hand on top of your head, brushing your h/c softly with a gentle smile, "you're perfect for me, fuck those people," he cusses out, "next time you hear em', don't forget to find out their names— i'm going to give them a lesson for it."

SUGURU GETO. suguru and you are like two peas in a pod. people never see him without you and vice versa, and often people would say that you both are the perfect couple. despite your personalities almost being the same type of calm, suguru is a calm man, and he's soft spoken. while you were just plain cold and stoic, rarely speak of something or even show your emotions.

someone bothering you? okay. someone making fun of you? okay. you were practically a walking definition of "i give zero fucks". but that doesn't mean you can't feel hurt, you are still human after all.

so when suguru told you about how he has a new co-worker, and how she has been clinging onto him, how she tries to get in his pants. you find it cute how he tells you about it, even telling you that you should come to his workplace so he could show you off.

you didn't feel anything because you trusted him. until you see the so called "co-worker" of his. she's pretty, you can't deny that. and you could see how she gets along with almost everyone, having no problem in instigating a conversation or complimenting people. people definitely like her.

that's where the insecurity began sinking in.

would suguru fall for her like everyone in his workplace does? would he leave you for her? so many questions you wanted to find the answer to.

"baby?"

you look at him, completely out of your daydream. he cocks his head to the side, "are you okay? you've been zoning out a lot lately..." he said, voice gentle and worried.

you nodded, "yeah. sorry. got a lot in my mind."

"do you want to talk about it?" he brushes a few h/c strands from covering your face, "you've been a little distant. is it something that i did, baby?"

god, just the thought of suguru thinking it was him made you a little sensitive. the past few weeks was already hard enough for you to contain yourself from breaking down, and him asking that made the tears you held in for so long drop out all at once.

suguru was a little taken aback and he sat straight up, alarmed, "y/n? baby? what's wrong?" he asks you gently, wiping the tears that never ceased from your face.

"i feel..i feel like i'm not enough. you deserve better than me, suguru." suguru swallowed the lump in his throat, he should've known, ever since you came to his workplace, you had started getting distant. and he should've known that was the reason.

suguru shook his head, cupping your face before giving you soft little kisses all over your face, "don't" a kiss on your forehead. "you" a kiss on your left cheek. "dare" a kiss on your right cheek. "say" a kiss on your nose. "that" a kiss on your chin.

the male gazes into your eyes deeply, "i love you," he softly said before planting a kiss on your lips, "you're the one i want, you're perfect for me. i can't see my future without you y/n, so please don't think about that..."

© CHURIPU 2023 , DO NOT COPY OR REPOST ANYWHERE !

[kazutora-kurokawa]

Tokyo Revengers Breeding Headcanons

♡ NSFW obviously, fem reader, pet names ♡

Characters: Timeskip!Mitsuya, Draken, Tora & Michi

note: started writing this at 1 am cuz I was having baby fever and also couldn't sleep, ended up finishing it tho Tagging @arlerts-angel, here's a little sliver of Draken content (mechanic!Draken x reader fic otw tho)

❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀❀

Wants A Big Family

Mitsuya: We all know how much of a family man Mitsuya is. He takes such good care of his little sisters and it'd be no different for his own kid. He knows he wants to spend the rest of his life with you and start a nice, big family with you. So it's no surprise that he has a fixation on getting you pregnant.

"Come on sweetheart, just one more load. I know you can take it! You're gonna make such a good mommy~"

Wants To Stretch You Out

Draken: There's an obvious size difference between the two of you. No matter your proportions he's always bigger than you. When it comes to Draken it's not just about filling you up, he also has a major size kink. He loves seeing the bulge form in your tummy when he fucks and creampies you. The fact that he's so much bigger than you turns him on to no end and he reminds you of this constantly when you two fuck.

"Aww look at my pretty girl. So strung out on my dick you can barely form a sentence. You love when I stretch you out like this don't you princess?"

Begs To Breed You

Takemichi: He is absolutely desperate to breed you! Will get down on his knees and beg like the crybaby he is. Acts good all week so you'll let him cum in you. Definitely has a mommy kink, he's just so submissive and cute. Even when he's balls deep in your pussy he's still whining and begging to cum inside.

"Please mommy, please lemme cum in you. I've been such a good boy for you I swear, just please lemme breed you!"

Wants To Trap You

Kazutora: You were his first and he wants you to be his last. He's obsessed with you and your pussy (definitely eats you out on a daily basis). He gets really insecure about your relationship and wants to get you pregnant so you'll be connected forever. Also an absolute whiny mess while he's inside you.

"Fuck, you look so pretty underneath me angel. Don't ever want you to leave me. Gonna fill you up and make sure you're all mine ♡"

[xoxo-ren-xoxo]

Hermitcraft / Life Series Fic Recs

Because I love so many of them...

I'll split the fics into completed and updating fics, and try to only recommend currently updating fics (i.e., not abandoned). I'm going to write a little about why I like each fic and what the general vibes are - so this is also a kind of review I guess?

I've tried to @ the authors if they have a public tumblr. Sorry to anyone who didn't want to be tagged, I can remove any @ if you ask (or if I have embarrassingly tagged the wrong person). Anyway, enjoy, and I appreciate reblogs because I want as many people to see these fics as possible!!

This ended up being incredibly long so I'm putting a divider here. Click to keep reading!!! Also, fair warning: shipping ahead! Some fics will have mild sexual content, please read the tags if you are unsure <3

Updating Fics

I have already recommended Help Me To Breathe, lost in the dark (he's got a heavy heart), and There Are Monsters Nearby in this post, so I won't explain why I like them a second time, but definitely check them out!!

Death's A Good Gig by @mawofthemagnetar is probably going to be finished by the time this post gets to you, reader, but I'm putting it here anyway. It's short and sweet, one of my favourite representations of Zedaph (or, Zedeath) I've read, and just a joy to experience. If you like grim reapers and discussions of unions, this one is for you. Also I need more Zedaph in my life.

Look, I'm Sorry, Please Stop Scaring Everyone by @cat-in-the-desert reminds me a lot of a particular TV drama I liked when I was younger, which followed a similar premise. This fic follows Mumbo (vampire) and Grian (ghost) as they get up to various housemate shenanigans and meet their local magic-expert and salesman Scar. This fic is fun, but still includes a nice amount of Feelings and hinted-at Angst which I really love. It's lighthearted, but never boring.

It Hurts To Hope by Inquillitory is my favourite of the "Grian crash lands into Hermitcraft and causes problems for everyone" genre. Seeing how many fics there are with that premise, I think that says a lot. It handles Grian's weird Watcher stuff really well. Honestly, I just want to know what happens next!

killing the boy in the tv by @raspberrystruck is like a sickfic on steroids. If you want Grian with so much past trauma he forgets how to function in society, this is basically the fic for you. I really love how hybrid traits affect the characters' interactions in this fic, and how everyone is kind of messed up because of the imbalance Grian brings. It is wonderfully descriptive in all the right places!

Love Me Like I'm Dead by @daniofcrows is such a gem. You know how hard it is to find good Xisuma whump? It's impossible. I absolutely love how Xisuma and Evil X are characterised in this, and I am obsessed with the unique take on hanahaki disease which I have never seen handled in this way before. The balance between flashbacks and present day is maintained wonderfully and I cannot wait to continue reading this one. Wow.

Oh, you wanted me to do a verse? by @bugbbear is... kind of indescribable. It's horror. It's comedy. It's the apocalypse. It's boatem. Scar eats someone. One of the most interesting and unique apocalypse stories I have read. Slowly updating but worth the wait, in my opinion. This one NEEDS more attention.

So Much For Stardust by @a-plethora-of-peters is basically one of my all-time favourites. Which is a damn good achievement seeing as I don't usually read ZITS fics. Like, ever. In this fic, Skizz is a human abducted and hurt badly by aliens, now recovering in the care of good aliens who don't know how 'sentient' he is. Every update of this one makes me smile, it is wonderful. I love how the characters are written and how the different perspectives are shown. It is just great.

Solar Waltz by @raspberrystruck and aroundtheclock is a brilliant and very very sad regression fic. I love fluffy regression fics as much as the next guy, but this one just... hits different. The hurt/comfort levels are off the charts. Grian is so damn cute the whole time, while also being harrowingly complicated and sad. I am so ready for whatever comes next.

Tango's Castle of Cards by @evilrat-sabre is the one where Tango is a BUG. He's just a little guy (horror). This one is so beautifully written, with poetry-type interludes and perspective changes that really make everything feel so much more impactful. Finding out your buddy is a murder bug isn't the easiest thing in the world. I love this so much.

Traveling Thieves {Dark Fantasy AU} (series) by @amethystfairy1 is basically one of the series of all time. I know I keep saying that but it really really is. I love a good fantasy au, and I love an au with hybrids even more. In this world, hybrids are treated like slaves, but it isn't all doom and gloom for the main characters of each installment. There is a lot of hurt/comfort and the different stories feed into each other in really interesting ways. I try to read as much as I can, though I've missed a few because my emails are buggy. Definitely worth reading these fics, especially since now they're all starting to come together!

Completed Fics

Solving Counting Sheep by @theminecraftbee might have rearranged my brain chemistry a little. Another strong contender for 'fics that inspire me to kill Grian', this time with a more concrete notion of "replacement". Three is my favourite fucked up living weapon. It's so rare to find Evo fics in this day and age, too. This fic had me immediately clicking on every update as soon as I got the emails.

Rescue Fire by @imaginethat0327 is one of the most unique takes on a fictionalised life series game that I have ever read. The whole concept is explained in a realistic and easy-to-follow way, as we learn what's happening with the characters. There are several brilliant storylines happening in this one, but my particular favourites are Jimmy & Tango, Joel, and of course Scar & Grian. This fic is full of whump and, well, read the tags, it isn't always pleasant, but those are my favourite things ever. Definitely worth checking out this fic and its currently updating sequel.

don't you know about me? by takenbadgering is a wonderful comedy of errors with just the right amount of angst for a realistic setting type of fic. If you enjoy polyamory miscommunications, rave aesthetics, kandi, school teacher dynamics, and a lovely blend between grumbo, cubscar, and mumscar, this is the one.

Eventually the Birds Must Land by @milo-hypno follows a polyam ship I would have never thought of, and I cannot believe how much I loved it. This married-as-friends fic premise is wonderful, and captures the main trio (Grian, Mumbo, Impulse)'s personalities so well, while balancing them with the incredibly terrifying descriptions of the Watchers and their power. There's a lot of angst here, but it is ultimately hurt/comfort to the maximum degree. I loved reading it as it updated. Yay for gay marriage!

From The Archives (series) by @sixteenth-days was the absolute inspiration for my own Comms AU, and I will never forget its influence on me. As someone basically unfamiliar with TMA, I thought this series might be hard to follow, but it was not! I read all 57 parts in the span of two days, and I think it altered my brain chemistry. Please read it, even if (especially if) you don't know anything about TMA. The Cleo and Grian storyline lives in my head rent free. I mean it. This is horror at its finest. Also there's an audio series of this fic being released rn, which is very cool.

SUPERCRITICAL by @masque-of-plague hits different. It is such a wonderful take on the superhero/HotGuy trope, and it gets so super dark at some points! This one really takes swings at it's fictional government, which of course I love, while at the same time building this brilliantly emotional relationship between Scar and Grian. I do enjoy a bit of enemies to lovers, but the actual plot mixed into the story makes this one extra special. It is thrilling, with action that I don't get to see too often! Great work.

I am weary with contending! is one of the mumscarian fics of all time. From 'this house has people in it'-type horror, to magic gone wrong, to childhood trauma, to attempted assassination, to gender fuckery, this fic has it all. Usually I don't go for convex siblings, but this one is good enough to get a pass from me. Amazingly detailed worldbuilding alongside a brilliantly creative story.

It Spreads by @foxxology may not count as a fic, actually. It's a comic. But it's posted on ao3 so it counts. I was obsessed with this one as it was updating, honestly. It rocked me to my core. The art is phenomenal. The writing is brilliant. I love sculk.

Luck of the sea by Sleepy_Duck is a lovely take on mermaid and human interactions, with Grian as a marine life conservator and Scar as a very neglected mer. This one takes us emotionally in all sorts of directions, and offers lots of hope for the future of the characters. I heavily enjoyed this fic - if you like mermaids and marine biology, check it out.

there are many downsides to being a marine biologist by donnerstag is another mermaid fic but with a pretty different vibe. First of all, it follows what I would consider a rarepair Doc/Martyn. Second of all, reading this as it updated was a thrilling experience that nearly made me cry at certain points. I love how the relationship builds in this fic. It is honestly amazing. The whole idea of experimenting on a sentient sea creature, learning that he can communicate, then losing funding and having to save him from being dissected?!?! It's crazy. I love it.

Thus concludes my fic recommendations. I hope you enjoy at least some of these, and consider reblogging to spread these wonderful fics around <3