#I thought I was escaping but there is no escape

[chuluoyi]

𝐖𝐈𝐍𝐍𝐄𝐑𝐒 𝐊𝐄𝐄𝐏𝐄𝐑𝐒

- sylus x reader

you suspect something’s off when you catch your lover with the hunter girl, so you decide to give him the cold shoulder. his way of winning you back? trapping you in a bet—if he wins this underground fight match, you’re back to being his

genre/warnings: 18+ suggestive content—minors do not interact!—brief smut, comfort, total fluff, assassin!reader (not l&ds mc), based on sylus' card radiant brilliance

note: this has been looong buried in my drafts since before my writer's block started :') again, a part of the assassin!reader that started with strictly (un)professional

Your lover— he is definitely hiding something.

“Mmph!” A moan escaped you mid-kiss as his palm suddenly cupped your right breast, squeezing and stroking it, while two of his left fingers thrusted inside you, getting you wet.

His fevered lips and tongue melded with yours, his wicked fingers driving you to the brink of madness—and oh damn, the devil that possessed them felt so heavenly—as he pressed you against the vanity, bending you over its edge.

A knowing gleam flickered in his eyes. “Mm, you talk too much, woman.”

Your thoughts blurred, teetering on the edge of control, yet deep within, a spark of aggravation incessantly burned, especially when you remembered the person you had caught him manhandling earlier this afternoon—

Miss Hunter.

“Sylus—! Stop!”

"Tch." He pulled away with a hiss as soon as you pushed his chest away with everything you had. Just like that, you were left high and dry; the emptiness his fingers had left behind made you instinctively cross your legs. "Why are you so uncooperative tonight?"

"You—" Gasping for breath, you clutched your slipping nightgown, glaring sharply at him despite the discomfort of the hard surface beneath you. "You really think you can shut me up... with sex?"

"I'm telling you, nothing happened." Sylus’ lips curled with a smug hint of satisfaction, only fueling your irritation. "Didn’t know my woman had such a jealous streak until now."

If there was one thing you’d learned from years by Sylus' side, it was that everything he did had a purpose. If it had been some random bimbo hanging around the casino or his resorts, you wouldn’t bat even an eye.

But this was the Miss Hunter—the very girl he had spent decades searching for, the one with whom he shared a bond so profound that he had forsaken everything just for the chance to find her again.

And compared to her, you were just his bedwarmer... who just happened to catch his eye.

"You two were kissing," you accused almost spitefully, the words laced with bitter edge.

His grin vanished, replaced by a look of distaste. "We were not."

You knew what you saw—he cornered her in the furthermost corner of the base, far away from even from the prying eyes of Luke and Kieran, and they were definitely just an inch away from each other. "Then what were you two doing?"

"Can't we talk just like acquaintances do?" The lack of viable answer gnawed at you. If there was nothing to hide, why didn’t he just say so and put your suspicions to rest?

"Will you do her like you do me?" The venom in your voice startled even you, slipping out before you could stop it. "Ha. I should’ve known..."

By now, he had this sour yet stern look in his face that made you almost shudder but you stood your ground. His tone was almost mocking, "Insecurity makes you so bitter, sweetie. Get yourself together."

It felt like a prick in the heart. Oh. As heartless as you were in the face of blood and gore, you still had it apparently when faced with your lover's conniving red eyes and sinful lips.

But more than that... as they said, heartbreak is one thing, but your ego is another.

"To hell with you!" you snapped, sitting up straight. Sylus blinked, momentarily caught off guard by the look on your face—was it showing the hurt? Or just plain defiance? Even you weren’t sure as you spun on your heel and stormed out of his room promptly.

Not for the first time, the very idea that he might be getting on with another woman twisted something inside you, the ache sharper than you expected. It suddenly saddened you to a degree that it brought mist to your eyes.

For the next three days, you ignored Sylus almost completely. He tried to get back to your good graces, but you paid him no mind, acting as if he didn't exist.

“Missus, please— just say yes!”

And caught in the crossfire, poor Luke and Kieran had become his reluctant messengers.

You unconsciously shot a sharp glare at the twins. Perhaps it was the mental strain you were putting yourself under, but you truly hadn’t meant to scare them more than they already were.

"Boss is really cranky when he isn't in a good mood," Luke pleaded, clasping his hands together. "Please just help us this time, will you?"

"He promises he’ll make it right!" Kieran chimed in with a hopeful grin. "As soon as he wins his match this weekend, you’ll see—there’s nothing to worry about!"

Sylus and his penchant for boxing. You knew these underground matches were something he indulged in now and then, and you'd let him be.

But this time...

"How are you so sure he's going to win?" You lifted your chin, a taunting smirk curling your lips. "And no, I'm not going. Tell him that."

"Missus, you have to see reason— there is no way Boss is having an affair—" Kieran insisted, shaking his head in frustration.

"Boss is whipped!" Luke cut in, throwing his hands up. "For you! Can't you see?!"

"..." For a solid five seconds, silence blanketed the room. You arched an eyebrow so high it made Luke look like he'd just spilled the world’s best-kept secret, while Kieran slapped a hand over his mask in exasperation.

And things were obviously not getting better—

"Ha. I'm what?"

You could see the twins visibly gulping the very second Sylus' voice boomed across the hall, and you rolled your eyes.

"Pfft," he let out this low chuckle as he made his way towards the three of you. "Hear that, sweetie? Luke isn't wrong."

"..."

"The little kitty's anger hasn't subsided, I see," he murmured, tilting his head to the side with a playful smirk, arms folded across his chest. "Such little trust you have in me."

You sighed. "Don't tempt me to hate you prolifically, Sylus."

"You wound me," he retorted, ruby-red eyes narrowed. "I have been nothing but honest and transparent."

You turned away, pressing your lips into a tight line. Deep down, you knew how childish all of this felt. Maybe it was nothing, after all. Maybe, just like he said, it was your insecurity twisting things.

And why are you so insecure, anyway?

"Keep your eyes on me, kitten."

Suddenly, caught off guard, you almost yelped as he tilted your chin towards him, forcing you to meet his gaze. Your heart raced wildly, but you fought to keep it in check.

"I win, and you’ll do what I say," his eyes flicking from yours to your lips, his voice a velvety whisper in your ear. "But if I lose... you can have your way—however you want."

Your pride took over. A second later, you jerked your face away, refusing to give him the satisfaction. To salvage your dignity, you let out an indignant scoff.

"Best hope you lose then."

You’d never been fond of crowds, let alone sitting in the stands of a boxing match.

And yet here you were, clutching a bouquet of fresh flowers—the twins had practically shoved them into your arms before bolting away—surrounded by the deafening roar of fans.

You would punish them later, you so would. It was humid and you were fuming. There was nothing interesting here, and to top it all off, Sylus’ turn to the ring was taking forever.

Until it didn't.

When he finally stepped into the spotlight, you caught sight of him on the big screen. And in that moment—when that devilish smirk curled his lips—you could’ve sworn he wasn’t aiming it at the crowd.

He was throwing it right at your direction.

And oh, how the rapid and traitorous thump-thump-thump inside your chest drowned out everything else, as if the roar of the crowd gradually faded at the realization.

How is it that he always manages to get your heart in his grasp?

. . .

When they said this sport wasn’t for the weak, they weren’t lying. No matter how tough you thought you were, you still flinched every time the opponent’s fist connected with your lover’s jaw.

Despite all the aggravation you harbored about him, watching him stumble and get knocked back felt like a punch to your own gut. In that moment, all you wanted was for it to end.

And when it finally was—when the referee raised Sylus’ arm and declared his victory—you exhaled a shaky breath you hadn’t realized you were holding. Relief washed over you in a quiet, fleeting wave.

However, reporters and cheers quickly swarmed him, and the distance between you felt even greater then. There he stood, proud as ever, lofty as if standing atop clouds, surveying the world with thinly veiled contempt. Meanwhile, you…

You were still dissatisfied. Sylus had a way of winning everything he set his sights on, while you remained stuck with your own petty grievances and emotional baggage you subjected yourself to.

It was vexing, really. How you wanted him to win and not at the same time. How you wanted his everything and knowing you would never be able to.

“What’s the secret to winning this match?!” one reporter asked, voice brimming with excitement.

Sylus answered with a casual smirk. “I made a bet I absolutely can’t lose,” he said coolly. “So, I won.”

The girls in the stands erupted into deafening cheers at his response, their shrill voices forcing you to cover your ears.

The nerve. You scoffed, irked by his answer and by the crowd’s adoration. You decided you wouldn’t let him have the satisfaction of you lingering here any longer.

Snatching up your bag and that damned bouquet, you marched toward the exit with long, determined strides when—

“Ooh? And who is this special person?!”

“Ah, look, there she is.”

You froze mid-step as the spotlight suddenly pinned you in its beam. Whirling around, your breath caught as you saw Sylus descending from the arena, his gaze locked onto yours.

What the hell?

For a moment, you froze in utter disbelief as he approached you with that effortless grace, as if the crowd around him didn’t exist. Before you could piece together your fragmented thoughts, he was already standing before you.

“Are you mad?!” you murmured in a hiss, your voice barely louder than a breath over the distant roar of cheers, yet pointed enough to pierce the air between you.

Sylus, however, only let out a snort, swiftly snatching the bouquet from your arms, and pulling you by the shoulders— his breath tickled you ear as he whispered:

“Got you.”

—and before you could react, he crashed his lips on yours in a bold kiss that at sent the crowd into an instant uproar of cheers.

“Whoa, whoa! The champion! Look how manly he is!”

“He has a girlfriend?!”

“Oh, my! To be that girl!”

“—!” You almost pushed him away, only to falter when you realized his kiss was anything but forceful. It was deep but disarmingly gentle.

Sylus pulled back just as quickly, his eyes twinkled with mischief as he took in your stunned expression.

“You’re mine now, sweetie,” he said with a smug grin, giving you a light pat in the head.

The way his eyes crinkle as he looks at you... Your cheeks burned, and your heart thundered in your chest, drowning the roars of the swooning crowd—

Because in that moment, you could’ve sworn there was nothing but pure adoration in those mesmerizing garnet eyes of his.

“You've gone and done it... What if anyone recognizes us?”

Later that night, freshly showered and wrapped in silk nightgowns, you sat at the edge of the bed, towel in hand as you dried your wet hair. You cast a glance at Sylus, who had just bathed with you and now lounged nearby with an unbothered grin.

The events from this afternoon still felt like somewhat of a dream to you. You had never been under that much of a spotlight before— too used to a life shrouded in shadows, quietly biding your time, preparing to brandish your blade when the moment came.

But through Sylus, every now and then, you caught a glimpse of what it felt like to stand on the other side of that darkness. And it felt freeing— like you could finally breathe, unburdened by the scent of blood and gunpowder.

"Wouldn't that be fun? Imagine the headlines," he shrugged nonchalantly. "The Onychinus leader and his missus... masquerading as a boxer and his fan for a day."

You huffed, shooting him a stink eye. "That's not even funny."

Despite the public display that Sylus had more or less pulled and made the two of you known as lovers even in underground world, there was still a gnawing curiosity at the back of your mind, feeding your insecurity—

The sight of him and Miss Hunter replayed again in your mind's eye. It was never fun finding them together in such close proximity.

And yet, in the end... he returned to you, still. Unspoken it may be, but Sylus had always taken your side so far.

You let out a long, resigned sigh. That caught his attention as he turned to you. "What is it?"

"Nothing," you quipped, slightly grimacing. "Forget it. I'm going to sleep."

Sylus raised an eyebrow, his gaze lingering on you. Even when you hid it, he knew what you'd wanted to ask and if you asked it now, he would tell you.

The way your face had fallen bothered him more than he'd like to admit. He rose from the recliner and moved to your side. "No, you won't be sleeping."

"What?"

He knelt beside you, gently taking hold of your leg, and pressed a kiss to your calf, his touch warm and unhurried as he met your gaze with a sly smile.

"Sylus..." you eyed him with incredulity, feeling yourself getting warm.

His red eyes crinkled. "Don't you want to ask me something?"

Your hand reached out to caress his face, and he leaned into your touch. That simple act alone brought a small, intrigued smile to your face. "No."

"Hmph. Really?"

"What?" You traced your fingers on his sharp jaw, admiring it. "You think I'll demand you for answers about whether you're two-timing me with Miss Hunter again?"

Sylus tilted his head, relishing the way your fingers cradled his face, staying quiet, however.

You were really great at this pushing and pulling game. It irked him to see how detached you seemed now when he knew a part of you had been fazed by it days ago.

He disliked it when you tried to hide what you were feeling. He hated it even more when you doubted him for anything. But seeing how unhappy you had been lately rattled him.

"Nothing happened," he said in a low voice, catching your hand and locking eyes with you. "Would you feel better if I had told you that since the beginning?"

"Who knows?" you replied with a soft shrug, a wry smile on your lips. "You didn't tell me before."

What a vixen. The thought simmered in his mind. Mine, though.

Like a cat pouncing on its owner, Sylus suddenly moved, going straight for your lips and pinning you to the bed. Intertwining his fingers with yours, he pried your lips open with his tongue.

Yet despite it all, you felt how gentle he was. The Sylus from before would just fuck you senseless and be done with it, but the one with you now... he treated you with an unexpected tenderness, as if savoring every second with you.

He pulled away only when you were breathless, the saliva string between your lips breaking as he gave you a moment to gasp for air. His gaze softened, lingering on your flushed face, a satisfied smile curling on his lips.

"You will see for yourself tomorrow. Tonight, however..." he trailed off, his lips hovering just above yours.

But you placed one hand on his chest and another on his neck, looking up at him with bleary eyes, the vulnerability in your gaze tugging at something within him.

"Actually, I'm a bit exhausted..." You found his intense gaze and blinked slowly. "So, can you be not as rough?"

"Ha." Sylus let out a snicker at your request, taking the hand you had on his chest and pressing a soft kiss on it.

What a precious little thing you are. Your face right now... It was a look he couldn’t resist, one that made him want to protect you and ruin you, all at once.

His smirk lingered. "Of course, sweetie. I'll go easy on you tonight."

And true to his word, he didn't break his promise.

Even as he dived between your legs, his tongue skillfully lapping at your folds— and as you tangled your fingers in his hair, pulling him impossibly closer. And later, when he pulled you into his arms and murmured softly until you drifted to sleep.

When you woke up the next morning, it was because of two things.

One— it was freezing. Your thin nightgown was definitely no match against the biting chill of a winter morning.

And two— Sylus wasn't here.

You wondered where he could have gone as it was his bedtime, but as you pulled the comforter closer to keep yourself from shivering, something caught your eye.

It took you a full three seconds to process it.

There was a ring on your finger.

"Huh...?" You were jolted awake by the sight of the glittering ruby. It was intricate, yet strangely nostalgic, reminding you of Sylus' eyes. How? Why?

You immediately turned to the nightstand, your gaze landing on a small jewelry box sitting neatly atop it. You scrambled for it, the name of the jeweler embossed on the lid caught your attention. It wasn’t from anywhere in N109 Zone.

It clicked to you at all once. So, that was why he was with Miss Hunter?

But more than that, what caught your heart was when you flipped it open and found a note inside, with a scrawled handwriting you would never mistake for anyone else's—

Because forever is too long and boring to be spent alone. So, your answer is…?

[stealingyourbones]

Mr. Mxyzptlk decides to have some fun and decides it’s time for some bodyswapping shenanigans. Behold, a list of varying bodyswaps I think would be neat to explore:

—

Jack Fenton and Clark Kent

Jack being Jack and getting used to his powers and being INCREDIBLY confused that he woke up NOT in his bed, not next to his incredible wife, and assuming this is a ghosts shenanigans. Clark is freaking out because he’s human, not next to HIS incredible wife, assumes this is a Mxyzptlk plot, and cements himself as an incredibly good father figure with Danny and Jazz, reaching out to other Supers for help to teach Jack the ropes and to wait out whatever Mxy has done.

—

Artemis swapping with Jazz

during an Outlaws mission and DURING some test for Jazz. Both freak out, both have to adjust to the other persons strengths and abilities, and Jason and Bizzaro have to calm a very confused and scared teenager who’s in an Amazonian body. While Danny’s friends are DESPERATELY trying to stop Artemis from throwing hands with every ghost she sees.

—

Johnny 13 and Jason Todd

Jason Todd is dead again. Not Good. Johnny is alive again. This ROCKS! Jason’s Red Hood goons lock him up because their boss is clearly compromised. Jason figures a way out of the Ghost Zone and asks Phantom for help. Along with having to acclimate to being able to control a sentient shadow and ghostly powers, Jason is in for a doozy. Johnny on the other hand, is going through many many attempts to escape Red Hood’s room and failing… until Red Robin crashes through a window. Apparently he should have answered the calls on Red Hood’s phone. Red Robin near instantly clocks that whoever is in Jason’s body, isn’t Jason. Ok, time to bring Not Jason to the Batcave to figure out what’s going on.

—

Vlad Masters and Alfred Pennyworth

Instant character change from both parties. Alfred is midway through talking to Bruce about over exerting himself and Vlad is midway through nearly successfully capturing Phantom.

—

Paulina and Wonder Woman

Paulina having to adjust with Amazonian strength and being lassoed by another party to figure out what’s happening in full (prolly Batman and his paranoid ass wanting the absolute truth <3). Diana having to adjust with being an average teenage girl who’s also high up on the Highschool food chain and pretending nothing is wrong until she can contact the League to figure out what just happened.

—

Tucker Foley and Dick Grayson:

Tucker swapping with Dick while Dick is at the Batcave. He’s too busy marveling at the tech and not really registering that he’s Not In His Body until he hears a roar of a motorcycle somewhere in the distance (One of the Batfamily coming back to the cave), and his reality comes crashing down. Tucker is mid ghost capture when Dick swaps with him and realizes VERY quickly that he’s not in his body and proceeds to go “fuck it. This hero he doesn’t know is genuinely struggling and he needs to blend in until he knows what’s going on. Dick doesn’t know this guys fighting capabilities but he has to AT LEAST know how to dodge well and aim well (Spoiler alert: Tucker doesn’t.

—

Danny Fenton and Martian Manhunter

DANNY IS AN ALIEN! THIS IS THE COOLEST THING EVER!!… Danny also has absolutely no idea how to shapeshift so he’s stuck in J’onn’s true Martian form and uncontrollably shapeshifting random parts of his body out of stress because he can hear *everyones thoughts* within a few miles. Danny’s grown to be a quick learner with powers but with all this noise he just. Can’t. Concentrate. J’onn doing his damndest to act as a regular human boy while not panicking about having absolutely zero telepathy. He’s told the boy’s friends after they noticed something wrong. He found out midway on the walk to Sam’s house that J’onn can turn invisible quite easily. It’s not the same as it is in his body but it’s not too different, kind of like flexing a different sequence of muscles to create the same movement.

[m3owcuryy]

౨ৎ ━━━ R U MINE?

━ cheater, cheater, pumpkin eater

━ characters: gojo, geto, nanami, toji

━ sum: catching him in the act. (modern au)

━ wc: 3.06k

━ tw: angst, m cheating, angst again, angst, no comfort :(, slight nsfw. MDNI.

lowercase intended!

━━━ GOJO SATORU

you stared in utter disbelief at the sight before you. the plastic bags, that were once in your hands, sat by your feet as you involuntarily let go of the bags of plastic.

"i'm so sorry." you muttered hastily, picking up the plastic bags and quickly excusing yourself from the place you once called home. all of the memories, that were once only good and filled with love, were quickly replaced with the feeling of disgust and utter sadness.

the scene of your boyfriend, very soon to be ex boyfriend, and a woman having sex in the foyer of his mansion, was quickly engraved into your memories. the sight of gojo satoru's bright blue eyes, widening upon the realization that you had come home to him, shirtless with his pants down to his ankles, fucking a woman in doggy style, as her hair was bundled up in his hand.

"[name]!" hearing your name slip past his lips, you quickened your pace. your hands shaking as you try to get your car keys out of your bag, tears threatening to slip past your eyes.

"[name]! listen to me!" his bigger hands grabbing the hand you were using to dig through your bag, making you quickly pull your hand away. taking a step back, you refused to look at him. you refused to let him see you break down into tears. you refused to let him see how he broke you.

taking the biggest breath you were able to muster, you shut your eyes tightly before looking at him. his disheveled hair, the trickles of sweat coming down his forehead, his shirtless body, his swollen lips. before you knew it, the tears began to fall, one by one.

"[name], angel, it's not what it looks like." sato- no, gojo, quickly added, the desperation in his voice as he tried to excuse his adultery.

"i'll come by within the next week to pick up my stuff." you ignored his weak attempts to make excuses. turning your back to him once again, you resumed to dig through your bag. you bite down hard on your lower lip as you tried to suppress the whimpers that threatened to escape your throat.

in another weak attempt to stop you, he hugged you from behind, whispering i'm sorry's into your ear, hoping to calm your shaking body. your body froze at the contact. his back hugs that you used to adore, used to make you feel safe and at peace, no longer gave you that feeling.

"you were just gone for so long, angel. that woman is nothing to me, i swear. i know i shouldn't have done it," his words didn't even reach you. "it won't happen again! please, forgive me! i can fix it! i'm the best, right?! i can do anything for you, i'll do whatever! you know i can make it right!"

it's funny. he was caught fucking another woman, and the first thing that came out of his mouth, 'you were just gone for so long'. his speech was quick and messy, his body shaking as he held onto you tightly, afraid if he lets go, you're actually going to leave him.

"'tor- gojo," you weakly spoke as you found your voice. "text me when you're available so i can pick up my things."

"no, no you won't. you're not actually planning on leaving me right?" gojo's embrace tightened. "it was a mistake! i'll atone, i swear! baby, please..."

you turned your body, softly pushing the white haired man away from you, your eyes meet his. his blue eyes, frantic as he tried to read your expression, as he tried to read what you were feeling, as he tried to read your thoughts. the man who was titled 'the best', couldn't read you.

"i trust that you would never do it again, satoru..." his eyes brightened ever so slightly, the feeling of hope and relief washed over him. he takes a step closer to you, before freezing. your next words broke down any sense of relief and hope he had felt, quicker than he had felt them come in. "because we're over."

━━━ GETO SUGURU

"do you think dad is sleeping?" nanako questioned as she sucked on her lolipop.

"maybe." mimiko shrugged watching you unlock the front door of the small apartment.

"if he is we should keep quiet," you told them, opening the front door as you looked at the two twins. "your dad is probably really tired."

letting the sisters go inside first, you chuckle softly as they both excitedly took their outside shoes off, running up to their shared room with their new bags of clothing that you had purchased for them. lining up their shoes beside your's, you notice another pair of shoes laying there. ones you haven't seen before. shrugging off the weird feeling that had taken over you, telling yourself one of the girls had gotten another pair without your knowledge, you make your way to the kitchen planning on preparing tonight's dinner.

the sounds of hushed whispering reached your ears. stopping whatever you were doing, you stayed silent. thinking the girls wanted to play a joke on you, you ducked behind the small island, planning on scaring the twins instead. hearing the steps come closer, you jumped up with a 'boo'.

expecting to see the twins, you were met with a random woman shrieking and suguru's shocked expressions. you froze. the sound of two pairs of footsteps running down, fell deaf to your ears.

there stood, your boyfriend shirtless with dark red marks on his chest, down his abdomen.

"who the fuck are you?" nanako questioned, her voice loud with authority, breaking whatever hypnosis you were in.

with no words, the woman quickly left, picking up her shoes that you had spotted at the entrance. the apartment was silent. geto looked back and forth towards you and the two sisters, as he struggled to say anything.

"nana, mimi." you called to the two girls, who looked at you upon hearing their names. "would you guys please go upstairs? i think your dad and i need to talk."

"no!" nanako exclaimed. her eyes red with anger. "whatever you guys have to talk about we should know too right?! i mean, i'm sure it's not what it looked like right?!"

"[name]..." geto could only mutter. your eyes made contact with his.

you looked down at the cutting board that laid in front of you. the vegetables that were in the midst of being cut for a family dinner, was completely forgotten. the erratic beating of your heart, and the feeling of betrayal consumed you entirely.

"say something!" nanako pleaded to her adoptive father, who only looked down with shame.

"dad..." mimiko spoke. "don't tell us you cheated on [name]..."

"we were just starting to feel like we finally had a mom!" nanako yelled as she began crying. "you just had to fuck it up?!"

the sight of nanako getting upset on your behalf, the tears that threatened to fall from mimiko's eyes, the sight of your body shaking as you held back tears for the sake of the twins, broke geto suguru.

"i..." geto spoke up, but no words followed.

"girls," you finally looked up, the heartbreakingly sad smile you gave the two, made them begin crying slightly harder. "go upstairs, i'll be there to talk to you guys after i talk to suguru. please."

giving into your pleas, the two hesitantly made their way upstairs, leaving you and geto alone. silence engulfed the two of you. you stared at the long haired man, your eyes raking up his body. your eyes following the trail of multiple hickeys that littered his chest.

"why?" your voice so weak, so destroyed.

"i don't...i don't know..." geto answered truthfully, the sound of your heart shattering echoed in your ears, your eyes no longer being able to keep the salty water at bay.

"if you didn't want to be committed, why didn't you say something?" you cried, a sob escaping your throat.

"i did!- i do! i don't know why, it just happened..." geto spoke, his words breaking your heart even more. the deep red marks across his chest that was out for the world to see, a loud reminder that geto suguru, didn't love you. and if he did, he didn't love you enough to stay devoted to you.

choked sobs escaped your throat. you covered your mouth in attempt to calm yourself. you took a deep breath, tears continuing to stream down your cheeks.

"we're done."

geto's eyes snapped to your's hearing your sentence, his eyes widening. you swallowed hard, walking around the island and past geto's frozen body. as you walked past him, he took a hold of your hand, gently tugging to keep you from continuing your way up the stairs, forcing you to look at him.

"you're not actually going to leave me and the girls," his eyes looking through your's. "right?"

"i loved the girls as if my own, sug- geto." you cried. "i loved you, took care of you, devoted myself to you and this is what i get in return?"

you snatched your hand out of his grip. you stared at him deep into his eyes, tears fell out of your orbs as if never ending. you turned your back, making your way up the stairs to mimiko and nanako's room. before ascending even more, you stopped. without turning around you spoke before continuing your way up the flight of stairs.

"we're breaking up."

━━━ NANAMI KENTO

it had been a while since you've seen your beloved boyfriend due to having a business trip over seas. nanami kento, the man you desperately wanted to marry and have a family with. a hard working man, never trying to work overtime, loving, soft, gentle and so much more.

you had decided to surprise him at his office with his favorite lunch, wanting to eat with him before he had to go back to work. making your way through the building, greeting familiar faces, a skip in your step as you made your way to his office.

giggling to yourself as you spot his windows covered with blinds, you knew he was working himself to the bone, trying not to stay at the office longer than he has too. a bright smile made it's way to your features as you fixed yourself, wanting to look presentable for when you surprise him.

taking out the spare key he had given you to his office, with the reason being, he didn't want to be disturbed as he worked with people entering his office unannounced. only you being able to get to him whenever you felt. you brought your phone out, pressing record, wanting to make a cute memory of you surprising him after being away for so long. you unlock the office door.

you brought your phone out in front of you, recording. the smile you once had immediately dropping.

there sat nanami kento in his chair, with his cock out and his assistant on her knees, tits out and mouth around his dick.

"WHAT THE FUCK, KENTO?!" you yelled tears falling down your face as you quickly put your phone down, never stopping the recording.

with a yelp, his assistant raises to her feet, sloppily fixing her shirt as she tried to walk past you. grabbing her shoulder, you forcefully make her face you.

"i would hit you, but i refuse to touch a whore." you sneered at her. she rolled her eyes at you with a scoff.

"not my fault he's easy. besides you obviously couldn't keep him satisfied, so i helped him." she snapped back with a smirk. with a laugh, you waved your phone in the air.

"i hope you have fun living in the street, where you belong, slut." her eyes widened in realization. immediately breaking down, nanami's assistant begins to stutter out words.

"isn't that too much?" nanami's voice made you snap you head at him. seeing him zip up his pants, he hesitantly walked over to you, his eyebrows furrowed.

"oh, shut the fuck up, nanami." you bit back with so much anger, shocking him.

ignoring the woman who cried as she ran out the office, your eyes never left his. the feeling of anger and heartbreak grew in you as he stood there staring at you, your tears never ending. your tears mixed with anger and sadness.

"when did you get back?" nanami asked, his voice weak. "i thought you were back next week."

you scoffed. "why does it matter, huh? so you wouldn't get caught fucking a skank?"

his silence angered you even more. seething, the video that had ended upon you raising your phone in the air, without hesitation, you sent it to the company's ceo, having met him at nanami's work parties, along with sending it to any of the other office workers' phones that you had saved. including sending it to nanami kento.

to whoever watched the video, the sound of you silently giggling in excitement as you unlocked the door, then quickly turning into sheer horror at the obvious scene of nanami and his assistant. the video soon catching your conversation with the assistant.

the realization was soon hitting him. he was scared.

"you're fucking disgusting." you spat, roughly wiping your tears away, before leaving the office.

"live a fan-fucking-tabulous life, nanami kento."

━━━ FUSHIGURO TOJI

"what do you think i should make for dinner, megu?" you asked the teenage boy who sat beside you as you drove the two of you to your apartment.

"gyudon sounds good." megumi answered shortly after.

the two of you held conversation, soon making it to the apartment you had moved into a few years ago. making your way upstairs with megumi close behind. unlocking the front door, you and megumi begin putting groceries away, soon beginning on making dinner.

"did you tell your dad we didn't continue to the arcade with yuiji and nobara?" you asked as you cut up the onions.

"nah," megumi shrugged. "do you have any ideas of what kind of food you want at the wedding, mom?"

mom. the feeling of megumi calling you that never got old. it made your heart leap with joy knowing megumi saw you as his mother. you had known megumi for almost five years, it took him so long to get used to you being around due to his father's past histories of bringing random women home. he thought if he got attached, you would disappear too.

just a few months ago, megumi began calling you 'mom'. the memory still fresh and with forever be engraved with the first time he accidentally called you his mom. soon it began being a habit of his to call you 'mom' or 'ma'. but that was another story for another time.

toji proposed to you a year ago, at a jockey. of course being in love with him and his son, you said yes. you and toji's wedding was set to happen in a month. as time ticks, the closer the wedding got, the more excited you had become (including megumi).

you and megumi continued to make dinner, before your guys' attention had been brought to the sound of the front door knob jiggling.

the sound of a woman moaning and mouths smacking against one another, reverberated around the apartment, making your stomach drop. toji and a random woman making out as he carried her into the house, as you and megumi looked at the sight in horror.

the sound of you dropping the glass soy sauce bottle shattering onto the floor, made toji and the woman pull apart from their kiss and to the noise. toji's eyes widened, seeing his son and his fiance standing there.

dropping the woman, he shoved her out of the apartment, closing the door roughly. he stood in front of you and megumi. without knowing, you began crying. tears pouring out of your eyes as you stared at him.

"again, toji?" you whimpered, covering your mouth from the sobs that were escaping your throat. the broken shards of glass on the floor, perfectly depicting how your heart felt.

"again?" megumi repeated, his eyes narrowing at his father. "what do you mean again?"

"go to your room." fushiguro's rough voice demanded at his son.

"no. what does mom mean by 'again'?" megumi pried, his fists clenching.

"go to your room before i make you, megumi." fushiguro demanded, his voice getting stern.

rubbing megumi's back in comfort, you whispered. "please, just go. i don't want you and your dad to fight."

"tch." megumi clicked his tongue, pushing past his dad, slamming his room door shut.

"seriously, toji?" you sobbed. "you're doing this, again?"

the sight of you sobbing, ignited something in him. the diamond ring on your finger, glistened in the kitchen's lights. all at once, the realization of his actions cam dawning upon him, but it was too late.

"i know, i know," toji's voice unusually soft compared to the voice he used with his son. "i swear this was the last time. i promise. you can forgive me again, right?"

shaking your head, as you continued to sob into your hand. toji tried to embrace you, but was shoved away. looking at you in masked shock.

"toj- fushiguro," you hiccuped through your cries. "i can't. not anymore."

his eyes widened when we watches you taking the engagement ring off, placing it on the table.

"there's no way you're leaving, right?" he asked, afraid of your answer. the once composed, daring and rough man, began to crumble right before you. "the wedding is just a few weeks away. you can't- i've made plenty of mistakes, i'm not perfect. i won't do it ever again, especially when i've made you my wife, c'mon, doll."

"that's not how this works!" you yelled at him between your sobs. "i'm done, fushiguro."

"what about megumi? he finally called you 'mom', right? you're not seriously throwing that away." fushiguro spoke with haste.

"i will always, and forever be there for my sweet megumi," you hiccuped. "together or not, fushiguro, megumi can reach me whenever he needs, i'll fill in the shoes as his mother until he no longer needs me."

"what about me? i need you." fushiguro tried to hold you, but you move away from him.

"no," you whimpered. "the wedding is off, we're done."

note(s):

not proofread

i hope this wasn't too ooc! i wrote nanami and geto as people who wouldn't care at first but once it all settles in, it starts to hit them hard, lmk if i should do a pt 2

[icosmiic]

stray kids members when you moan their name in your sleep

❰･❉･❱ genre: smut (ot8 x viewer)

❰･❉･❱ word count (quesstimated):

❰･❉･❱ warning(s): fem!reader, somnophilia, tittie sucking, praising, a little breast worship, mentions of female masturbation, allusions to meandom!minho, one spank, allusions to reader being in love with changbin’s muscles, hyunjin painting reader whilst she sleeps, munch!hyunjin, cunnilingus, allusions to sex in jisungs (no actual smut), breast fondling, meanie seungmin, fingering, male masturbation, jeongin shamelessly perving on sleeping reader, petnames: baby, honey, dirty slut ect. let me know if i’ve missed any!

❰･❉･❱ minors do not interact! feauted below the cut is 18+ only content, if you are uncomfortable with whats below stop reading.

❰･❉･❱ this is not an accurate representation of the members of stray kids, and shouldn’t be viewed as such.

❪  ❥ .   bang chan,  방찬  ❫ || idol!bf!chan

the gentle, distant ticking of the clock in the living room resonated throughout the house, bang chan sat up in his bed, laptop perched on his lap whilst his headphones played the latest track he had spent hours upon hours perfecting. the lamp sat upon the bedside table flickered slightly as chan focused, he however paid no mind to it. beside him you laid, fast asleep, all worries gone and replaced with gentle snoring and rustling of bedsheets whenever you moved.

a quiet sound brought chan’s attenion away from his laptop screen, removing the headphone from one ear the man kept a listening ear out for the noise again, nothing followed, so instead he placed the headphone back on his head and focused on his work again. a few minutes had passed before the noise dragged his attention away from his laptop screen.

as chan removed his headphones from his head entirely and began to save his editted work, deciding it was time to ‘hit the hay’ (as he’d put it), the reoccurring noise sounded in the room, it was a soft noise coming from… you?

chan’s eyes glanced towards you where you laid on your back, eyes still shut. shaking his head, he pushes the thought away as just you rolling over, you had just previously been laying on your side.

instead of silence, another, slightly louder moan escapes your lips, paired with a furrowing of your brows. chan’s eyes trailed your body, your perky nipples hard behind the thin layer of his shirt (which had now become your sleep shirt).

the boy contemplated for a moment, before another softer but more desperate whine-like moan escaped your lips, legs pressed together beneath the duvet. slowly he lifts your shirt, making direct eye contact with your round, perky breasts.

he glances up at your sleeping face, as he attaches his lips around your nipple, sucking at it gently. his eyes flutter shut, rolling back as he licked and nipped at the bud.

your eyes flutter open as you awake, groggy but undeniably horny. it takes you a moment to fully process what was going on, before your eyes drift down to your boyfriend, sucking at your pretty boobs and subtly rutting himself into the mattress.

“fuck i love your pretty titties.”

❪  ❥ .   lee minho, 이민호  ❫ || husband!minho

minho had come home late from work, his body felt heavy as the day had worn him down. seeing all the lights were off, he knew you were sound asleep in your bed. he kicked off his shoes and walked through the hallway towards your shared bedroom but before his hand could grab the doorknob to push the door open, a muffled noise grabs his attention.

he stares at his outstretched hand, centimetres away from grabbing ahold of the doorknob. admittedly his mind went to all the worst options, he knew you’d never cheat on him, so immediately he assumed you had been touching yourself without his permission.

his hand opens the door, expecting to see your fingers deep inside your pretty pussy, as you rubbed at your clit but instead he found you laying on his side of the bed, your face smothered in his pillow as your thighs clenched together in your sleep.

another moan escapes you, which makes minho chuckle to himself, you were adorable. walking over to you, he sat in the open area of the bed, hand coming down on your ass in a harsh slap, just because he could.

you jolt away, a noise of discontent leaving you as you shoot up, eyes focusing right on the man sat in front of you. “having a good dream, baby?” he asks, shoving you down again and climbing over you, hand slapping at your thighs for you to spread them.

“you better have enjoyed that dream, cause i’m not going easy on this pussy tonight.”

❪  ❥ .   seo changbin,  서창빈  ❫ || gymrat!bf!changbin

coming home from the gym had become like clockwork to changbin, opening the door to the smell of freshly baked cookies and/or his lunch was his favourite part about his days recently. today was like any other day, the smell of freshly baked goods wafting into his face as he placed his duffle bag down.

only difference was that you weren’t at the door, waiting patiently to greet him. it was never something he asked you to do, it just came naturally. changbin sighs, slightly disappointed but he assumes you must’ve been called into work.

his assumptions are proven incorrect as he walks into the living room seeing you knocked out on the couch, sleeping soundly. he smiles, he loved how pretty his baby looked in her sleep.

changbin sits down on the couch, admiring you but his moment of clarity is taken from him and replaced by shock. a moan had slipped past your lips and changbin, thinking you were hurt, gently shakes you awake.

“baby, you okay?” he asks, eyeing you down as you wake up, dazed, confused and horny. seeing your bf in his gym attire, arm flexing as he holds onto you for comfort you can’t help but moan again, which makes the man realise.

“fuck… come here, honey.”

❪  ❥ .   hwang hyunjin,  황현진  ❫ || artist!hyunjin

you and hyunjin had previously discussed that he was allowed to paint you nude whilst sleeping, it was an odd thing but knowing you were a deep sleeper and an equally as still as a statue when you slept.

you laid with an air over you face, leg lifted up as you slept, mouth slightly parted, hyunjin’s brush strokes gently against the canvas, his eyes darting across the canvas and towards you.

a small moan escapes you and breaks hyunjin’s train of thought, his artistic abilities dropping in an instant and instead replaced with a tent in his sweats. he stares, pulling out his phone and taking the best picture he could use instead before he walks over and kneels at the foot of the couch.

he moans as he makes eye contact with your glistening core, wetness shining in the light, he looks up at your face, smiling. it had also been discussed that he could touch and fuck you when you slept.

his mouth attaches to your bud, sucking at your clit before he licks a stripe up your folds, savouring the taste of you before he begins fucking you with his skilled tongue.

“s-so fucking good, fuck.”

❪  ❥ .   han jisung,  한지성  ❫ || bestfriendsbrother!jisung

being shoved into the middle seat beside your longtime crush is bad enough, but falling asleep and having your best friend take countless photos of you, is worse. you slept soundly beside jisung whilst julie laughed at you.

a surfboard laid between you and julie, before she had noticed you asleep she was trying to grab the packet of food from jisung and got distracted and now she was listening to her music and not paying attention, their parents talked quietly as loud music played.

you shift closer to jisung, head falling into his shoulder in your sleep, he stiffens, did his twin sisters best friend, not to mention his crush, just move onto his shoulder, his eyes widen even more when a soft moan sounds in his ear.

in a panic he shakes you awake, harder than ever in his grey shorts, you lift your head off his shoulder, blushing/feeling hot but trying to act oblivious. the boy gulps as he leans closer.

“meet me in my room when we get to the cottage, please?”

❪  ❥ .   lee felix,  이필릭스  ❫ || brothersbestfriend!felix

felix and chan had always been closer, despite the boy being a year older than you and three years younger than chan. the three of you had grown up together, seeing all of each others weird phases. your mother had asked felix to get you for dinner whilst she, chan and your father cooked dinner on the barbecue.

felix walked down the hallway, quietly observing the hallway he had been down hundreds of time, barging into the room, felix smiles at your delicate sleeping figure.

just as he reaches for you to gently wake you up, a moan falls from your lips, better yet a moan of his name. he stiffens up, both in movement and down in his pants.

he reaches down and shakes you up, and when you see felix leaning over you, eyes glossed over in lust you shy away. he turns you back to him, smiling at you. “you want me, baby?” he whispers to you.

you nod, feeling his hands begin to gently massage your tits, your head falls back. immediately felix feels himself stiffen up in his pants more, you were gorgeous.

“we needs be quick sweetheart, dinners ready soon.”

❪  ❥ .   kim seungmin,  김승민  ❫ || sugardaddy!husband!seungmin

seungmin walks into the bedroom, holding a couple bags of designer accessories he had bought for you, he smiles seeing you asleep on the bed, the overpriced silk pyjamas lifting up slightly, showing him your pretty ass.

he places the bags down and loosens his tie, but he’s immediately distracted when a loud moan fills his ears, he looks back at you surprised, you had always been vocal, but this level of volume when sleeping shocked him, you rarely even snored.

despite his initial shock, seungmin smirks and walks closer, tsk-ing as he notices a wet spot in your expensive pyjamas. he moves the thin material to the side, seeing your bare cunt right there for him.

he gently runs his fingers through your folds, before he pushes three into you, the pain of the stretch jolting you awake, his fingers move at a dangerous fast pace as he fucks his fingers deep into your pussy.

“suck a dirty slut, moaning for me even in her sleep.”

❪  ❥ .   yang jeongin,  양정인  ❫ || bestfriend!jeongin

you and jeongin had been best friends ever since the first day of year 7 when you moved to the highschool, and ever since those two awkward teenagers had blossomed into the equally as awkward adults you were now.

you laid sound asleep on jeongin’s bed as he played his video games, focusing on the movements of his controller and his friends yelling. he hadn’t even noticed the moans in the background until his mate pointed it out.

“what?” he asks, confused and his friend answers. “is someone being fucked, why is there moaning dude? gross.” his friend jokes, and jeongin immediately disconnects from the call, your moans filling his ears.

jeongin looks back at you, watching as you rut against his pillow, moans slipping past your lips in your sleep. he knew you we’re bestfriends and he should just leave and forget about it but when you moaned his nickname he couldn’t help pulling his pants down and fucking into his fist wishing it was your pussy.

he watches as your hips begin to get erratic before you both cum at the same time, his cum shooting up onto his chest whilst you soil his pillowcase.

“fuck, this is so wrong, fuck you’re too hot though.”

© icosmiic || do not steal, copy, plagiarise or post my work anywhere.

[ripcupid]

Please write trans sevika with a cream pie kink.

𓄀𐚁⊹₊ ⋆ dirty girl

trans!sevika x fem!reader

word count : 2.1k

This was a mix between this and the request which just made it even better thank you anon 🙏🏾🙏🏾 side note love this Sev cooch shot

another side note THANK YOU FOR HOW POPULAR SOMETHING SPECIAL IS OMG i hope y’all enjoy this as well

Sevika knows she should just let you sleep but she can't ignore the growing ache of her cock as she stares at your sleeping body. Her eyes trail over your tits as they rise and fall with each breath, noticing the way your nipples harden under the thin fabric of your shirt from the cool air in the room.

She bites her lip, cursing quietly under her breath as she palms herself through her pajama bottoms, unable to resist your pretty body even while you sleep. She struggles to keep her moans quiet, slapping her hand over her mouth to muffle the sounds threatening to escape her as her cock grows harder with every movement.

Giving into her desire, Sevika slowly and carefully pushes down her pajama bottoms, revealing her aching cock, already glistening with pre-cum.

She strokes herself slowly, dropping her head back against the headboard as she imagines it's your cunt wrapped around her or your hand, pumping her cock as you stare at her with your big sweet eyes.

With the thoughts of touching and kissing you, and how pretty you would look and sound with her cock buried deep inside your equally pretty pussy, Sevika gets lost in her head, forgetting about you sleeping soundly in the bed next to her.

You stir in your sleep at the sound of her heavy breathing and soft moans, slowly waking up to find Sevika lost in her fantasies, completely unaware that you are now awake— or so you thought.

You can't help but stare in awe, feeling your cunt begin to ache at the sight unfolding in front of you. "Ya just gonna sit there and watch?" Sevika breathes out with a light chuckle, catching you off guard as her eyes meet yours.

You feel a rush of arousal soak your panties as you sit up, resting your head on your hand to watch her with a hungry gaze. “Don’t stop ‘cause of me,” you reply.

Your eyes flick between her face and her cock as she continues to stroke herself, a dazed grin playing on her lips. "This was because of me?" you ask, pulling back the blanket partially covering the both of you to fully see her. Sevika's grin widens as she nods, her hand never stopping its movements.

"All for you, baby," she chuckles, "Wanna help me finish?" You bite your lip, nodding eagerly as she removes her hand from her cock and reaches out for yours, guiding it to wrap around her throbbing length.

As you begin to stroke her, you gawk at how her cock easily responds to your touch, watching the pre-cum dribble down the tip. You lean forward to lick up the bead of pre-cum, savoring the taste as Sevika lets out a low moan.

"Mmm, that's it, baby," Sevika moans, her eyes fluttering shut as her hips buck against your hand.

Staring up at her face, you can't help but beg, "I wanna taste more of you, Sevi, can I please?" Sevika looks down at you, stroking the back of your head with a mischievous glint in her eyes.

"Go 'head, baby," she whispers, spreading her legs wider as you move between them. You keep your eyes locked on hers as she guides your lips to her cock with a firm grip on your hair. You trace the prominent vein on the underside of her cock, feeling it twitch in your hands.

“Is that good?” You ask, slowly pumping your fist as you trace down the length, savoring the taste of her skin.

"Mmm, very good, baby," Sevika moans, sinking back against the bed with a satisfied smile. "Take it all the way, just like that," she urges, pushing your head down further till her tip hits the back of your throat. She holds your head in place, her face scrunching up as she tries to keep herself from coming too soon.

Your hands grip her thighs for support as she bobs your head up and down, shamelessly using your mouth for her pleasure. Each movement of her hips makes you gag but you don't dare pull away, wanting to please her and make her feel good.

"You're so good, baby," she pants, her voice husky with desire, "such a good girl." Sevika's hips begin to falter as she nears her climax, her breathing becoming ragged and desperate.

You whine pathetically as she pulls you off, strings of spit connecting your lips to her cock as you continue to jerk her off. "You gonna let me cum on that pretty face of yours?" she grins, letting go of your hair to brush her thumb over your swollen lips.

"Yes, please," you whimper, your desire evident in your voice as you look up at her with pleading eyes. Sevika smirks, stroking your cheek with her thumb before gripping your cheeks to make your tongue lol out.

"Good girl," she groans, her hips bucking up in your hand as she nears the edge, "'m gonna cum, okay, baby?" You nod eagerly, speeding up your movements, feeling her twitch and shudder in your hand as she reaches her peak. With a final, guttural moan, Sevika releases onto your awaiting tongue and face, her legs trembling with pleasure as you help her ride out her orgasm.

You eagerly swallow the bit that lands on your tongue, licking your lips as you look up at her with a satisfied smile. You sit up, wiping your face with the back of your hand, as you watch Sevika catch her breath.

"C'mere," Sevika says, laughing as she catches a glimpse of your messy face. She pulls you up for a deep, passionate kiss, tasting herself on your lips.

"You taste so good, Sev," you whisper into the kiss. She pulls away with a mischievous grin, squeezing your cheeks playfully, "You're a dirty girl, aren't you, baby?" she teases, making your face heat up.

"Only for you," you giggle in response, leaning in for another kiss. You crawl into her lap and wrap your arms around her neck, your lips moving hungrily against hers.

Sevika's hands find their way to your ass, squeezing it firmly as she deepens the kiss making you moan softly against her lips. As her lips move down to your neck to leave a trail of kisses, you can't help but grind down on her limp cock, feeling it begin to stir beneath you.

Sevika's breath hitches at your bold move, and she responds by giving you a light spank on your ass, causing you to gasp in surprise and pleasure.

"Careful, baby," she warns, pressing her lips against your ear. You pout as she holds you still, wanting her to finally relieve the throbbing ache between your legs.

"Please, Sevi," you whine, your voice coming out in a desperate plea as you push yourself against her, trying to get some friction to alleviate the ache. "I wanna cum on your cock so bad," you moan, feeling her harden up again.

She smirks at your impatience, teasing you with light kisses along your jawline before she finally releases her grip on your hips, allowing you to move against her once more. "You know it makes me so hard when you beg like that," she murmurs, her breath hot against your ear.

You shiver at the sound of her voice, her hands slipping under your shirt before she lays back to see the desperation in your eyes. "Tell me again what you want." You gasp as she starts to grope your tits, her fingers pinching and teasing at your nipples.

"I wanna cum on your cock," you whimper, unable to stop yourself from grinding against her, "please baby." You fist her shirt in your hands, humping her desperately as her eyes flick down to where you sit on her lap.

"I can feel how wet you are," she whispers, holding your hips before stopping your movements. "Take off your clothes, let me see all of you, baby." You eagerly comply, getting off her to strip off your clothes as she watches with a hungry gaze.

As you stand bare by the bed, she reaches out and pulls you closer, her hand tracing along your skin. "C'mere baby," she murmurs, guiding you to straddle her lap again.

You can't stop the whiny moan that escapes your lips as you feel her cock pressing against you. You slowly roll your hips against her, placing your hands on her abs for support before she pulls you down to kiss you deeply, her hands resting on your ass.

"Lift your hips for me," she whispers against your lips. You comply, feeling her tip pressing against your entrance, making you bite your lip in anticipation.

Sevika watches your face intently, reveling in the way your eyes squeeze shut and your jaw goes slack as she slowly pulls you down onto her cock, the sensation causing a loud moan to escape your lips. Your head drops down on her shoulder, burying your face in her neck as you get overwhelmed by her filling and stretching you in the most delicious way.

Her hands grip your hips firmly as she guides your hips in a steady rhythm up and down, each drag of her cock sending waves of pleasure straight to your cunt. The space between y'all fills with the sound of your needy whines and the soft wet sounds of her cock slipping in and out of you.

"You're so deep," you mumble, lifting your head to leave a trail of kisses along her jawline. "I fucking love your cock," you moan in Sevika's ear before capturing her lips in a hungry kiss, fisting the sheets beneath you to anchor yourself as you ride her with increasing fervor.

Sevika's hand tangles in your hair, holding you close as she thrusts up into you, losing her composure by the second. Her moans mix with yours as her other hand slides down your back to grip your ass, urging you to move faster and harder.

You sit up, your hands roaming over her abs and chest as you look down at Sevika. "You look so fucking hot, baby," she groans through gritted teeth, her hands moving to grope your tits as you continue to rock your hips against hers.

Your hand cups her hand, dragging it down your body to where you need it most. "I need you here, Sevi," you whine, guiding her hand to where you ache for her touch. She nods eagerly, biting her lip in excitement at how you guide her and take what you need from her.

With a hungry look in her eyes, Sevika follows your lead, letting you drag her hand down your stomach and between your thighs to your clit. Your body jerks and your hips falter as she rubs the neglected bud in slow circles with her thumb.

"I got you, baby, just keep ridin' me," she whispers, her other hand caressing your twitching thighs. You moan in response, arching your back and gripping her wrist tighter as you feel the tension bubbling in your belly.

Sevika stares at where your bodies meet, watching how your cunt greedily swallows her cock, swearing she won't last much longer with the way you're squeezing her so tight.

"Fuck, baby, look at you taking me so well," she groans, feeling her climax building as she thrusts deeper into you. "Can't hold back much longer," she pants, her brain foggy with the feeling of you.

"Sev," you whimper, snatching her attention back to your face, "Wanna cum with you, please."

Sevika chuckles breathlessly at your plea. "Come on, baby, cum for me," she encourages, moving your hips the way she wants as you fist her shirt, moaning and whining incoherently as you both reach your limit.

"That's it, baby," she grunts, her body shuddering as your walls clench around her making her spill inside you. "God, you feel so good," she murmurs, closing her eyes as she slows your hips and you both ride out your highs together.

As Sevika lays beneath you, her chest rising and falling rapidly, you try to get off of her, but she holds you in place. She peeks up at you with a teasing grin, whispering, "Where you goin’? You gotta keep it all in, baby, wouldn't want to waste any." making you laugh breathlessly.

"But, Sev, I'm all sweaty and gross," you protest, trying to squirm out of her grasp. Sevika just grins mischievously, pulling you down for a kiss, "I like my dirty girl," she whispers against your lips, sending a shiver down your spine.

"Fine," you relent, rolling your eyes playfully before kissing her back. "What if we take a shower together?" you suggest a mischievous glint in your eye, slipping your hand under her shirt as her lips trail down your neck.

"Mmh, that sounds perfect, baby," Sevika murmurs, her hands sliding down your back to your ass, giving it a playful spank before letting you off her lap.

Merry soon Christmas if you celebrate I wanted to make Christmas smut but 🤷🏾‍♀️ and hope y’all had good finals cuz ik I’m fucked but it’s cool

[stylesispunk]

'Merry christmas, please call me' day 1/3

no outbreak! Joel Miller x f! reader

summary: one year after your breakup, joel is pleading to his phone for a call from you. 🌲

w.c: 6k>

warnings: age gap (joel is fifteen years older than reader) angst as usual and fluff with a happy ending like in the Christmas movies.

a/n: welcome to the first day of my joel's fic christmas version event. I want to remind you that i'm from south america and my christmas has always been hot because of summer, so i'm feeding my dreams. I hope you like this one and see you again on the second day of my mini event! Happy reading 💌

The smell of burn cookies made Joel nauseous. The lights of the Christmas tree in the corner of these four walls seemed to gave him a migraine.

A night like this where everyone was celebrating around a table full of food and loved ones. He was lonely with his thoughts drifting away to you. You were on his mind, day and night for the last 365 days that he had been without you.

It was his fault.

He recalled, this exact same night a year ago when he broke up with you out of the blue, due to poor excuses nor even him believed.

Your age gap, that you were childish, that you deserved someone better, he’d said. Someone whole. A ridiculous justification that even he couldn’t stomach now. At the time, he’d convinced himself it was for the best. He had no right to drag you into his mess of doubts and guilt, into his constant battle with the ghosts of his past. But it didn’t stop the ache from settling in his bones, lingering there like a wound that refused to heal.

His thumb hovered over your name in his contacts. It had been a year since you left, a year since the fight that had left him standing alone in the doorway, watching you walk out with tears in your eyes and a suitcase in your hand. He hadn’t dared delete your number, which now stared back at him, mocking him in the silence. How many times had he replayed that night in his head, hoping he’d wake up and find that it was nothing more than a cruel nightmare?

Call her, the voice in his head whispered.

But what could he say? What words could possibly undo the damage he’d caused?

A sigh escaped him as his head dropped back against the old couch, the springs groaning in protest. The soft hum of a Christmas song playing from a neighbor’s apartment felt like salt in the wound, each note a reminder of what he’d lost.

You were his person. You’d been his anchor through the storms, the one who never let him drown, even when he tried to push you away. And he had pushed you, hard enough to make you leave for good.

But Joel still hoped. Pathetically, desperately. Every buzz of his phone made his heart lurch, only to drop moments later when it wasn’t you. He hated himself for it, for waiting on a miracle he didn’t deserve.

Finally, with trembling hands, he let his thumb tap against your name. The call button loomed there, so simple and yet so heavy. He stared at it, his pulse pounding in his ears.

“Merry Christmas,” he muttered, voice rough. The silence of the house swallowed his words. “Please call me... God, just call me.”

He closed his eyes, pressing his palms to his face. You were out there somewhere, probably laughing, surrounded by family or friends. Did you even think about him? Did you miss him the way he missed you? The unanswered questions gnawed at him, the kind of pain he’d learned to carry in his bones over the last twelve months.

When he finally looked at the phone again, he couldn’t stop himself. He typed out a message, the words simple but raw:

Merry Christmas. Please call me.

He hit send before he could second-guess himself, the soft whoosh of the message sending feeling louder than it should have. Now, all he could do was wait.

You won’t reply, he thought bitterly. Why would you?

But just as he began to put the phone down, it buzzed in his hand.

The sound of laughter echoed around the room, your cousin telling some exaggerated story about their vacation as everyone leaned in, caught up in the humor of it all. You tried to smile, to focus on the holiday warmth and cheer, but it all felt distant, like you were watching it from behind a thick pane of glass.

For the last four Christmas you had had someone by your side, holding your hand and making you feel a whole in the room.

Now he wasn’t here.

Now it had been a year since he pushed you away from his life.

You excused yourself for a moment, slipping out to the porch where the cold December air stung your skin. It was quieter out here, the twinkle of Christmas lights from neighboring houses reflecting off the snow. You wrapped your arms around yourself, breathing out slowly, your breath a cloud in the chill.

And then you felt it. The buzz of your phone in your pocket.

Sliding it out, your heart stopped when you saw the name.

 Joel.

The message was simple, just four words Merry Christmas. Please call me.

You stared at the screen, your mind racing. You hadn't heard from him in months. The last time had been his birthday three months ago, a tentative text you’d sent just to say you hoped he was doing well. He’d thanked you, but the conversation died before it could have started. You thought that was the end of it, that Joel had moved on, just like everyone told you he would.

But now... this.

You sank onto the porch steps, your fingers tightening around the phone. The memories came flooding back: The past Christmas, when he’d held you in his arms by the fire, murmuring promises you’d believed in so completely. And the fight that tore it all apart, the anger in his voice masking the vulnerability he was so terrified to show.

You swiped at your screen, opening the message again.

Call him, a voice in your head urged. Just call him.

But another voice whispered fearfully

 What if he’s just lonely?

For a moment, you hesitated, your thumb hovering over his name in your contacts. Then, with a deep breath, you pressed the button. The phone rang once, twice, each second stretching into eternity.

“Hello?” His voice was low, rough, like he hadn’t spoken in hours.

You closed your eyes, the sound of him unraveling something inside you. “Joel,”

….

You’d spent hours making everything perfect. The table was set with Joel’s favorite dishes, the candles were lit, and soft Christmas music floated through the air. The snow outside created a picturesque view through the windows, and for the first time in days, you were excited. Joel had been distant lately, his long hours at work bleeding into your evenings, but tonight would be different. It had to be.

“Joel, you’re late,” you said softly as he walked through the door, his shoulders slumped, his face tired.

He barely glanced at the table as he shrugged off his jacket. “Got caught up at work.”

“I made dinner.” You gave him a small smile, trying to meet his eyes. “I thought maybe tonight—”

“I’m not hungry,” he cut you off, his voice sharper than it needed to be.

Something in his tone made you flinch. You watched him sink onto the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at nothing. The weariness in his face didn’t feel like exhaustion; it felt like resignation.

You walked over to him carefully, sitting on the edge of the coffee table so you could face him. “But it’s christmas eve.”

“I know.” he muttered, but his eyes wouldn’t meet yours.

Your stomach twisted. This wasn’t the man who used to pull you into his lap and kiss your worries away. This was someone locked behind a wall you couldn’t reach. “You’ve been different lately. Talk to me. Please.”

He let out a long breath, his hands running through his hair. “I don’t know what we’re doin’ here.”

The words slammed into you like a physical blow. “What?”

Joel looked up at you finally, his expression hard, guarded. “Us. This. It doesn’t make sense anymore.”

Your heart pounded. “What are you talking about?”

He stood up abruptly, pacing the room like he needed to get away from you, as if your presence burned his skin. “You’re too young for this—”

“Don’t.” Your voice trembled, but you stood too, following him. “Don’t do that. You’ve never cared about the age gap before.”

“You should be with someone who can give you what you want, not some old man who can’t figure his shit out.” He turned, finally meeting your eyes, and his were cold, deliberately so. “Someone who isn’t afraid for what people say.”

The words hit like ice water, sharp and cruel. You took a step back, shaking your head. “Joel, that’s not fair. I don’t care about any of that. I love you.”

“Don’t,” he said again, his voice a low growl. “You’re just sayin’ that because you don’t know any better.”

The tears you’d been holding back spilled over. “Why are you doing this?”

“Because it’s the truth.” He swallowed hard, his jaw tight, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. “I can’t be what you need. And you deserve better than what I can give.”

It wasn’t the words themselves that hurt the most, it was the way he said them, like he’d already decided this for you, like he’d been carrying it around for weeks, months, without telling you.

“Don’t you dare decide what I deserve,” you whispered, your voice breaking.

Joel looked at you then, really looked at you, and for just a moment, you saw it: the regret, the pain, the fear he was trying so desperately to hide. But then he turned his back to you, his shoulders rigid.

“Go,” he said quietly.

Your breath hitched. “What?”

“I said you should go.”

The room went deathly silent except for the sound of your soft, choked breaths. Joel didn’t move, didn’t turn around as you stared at him, waiting for him to say something, anything, to take it back. But he didn’t.

“We had been together for five years, Joel” you sobbed “Are you throwing away?”

Joel's jaw tightened, his back still turned to you as if he couldn't bear to face what he was doing, what he had already done. His hands gripped the edge of the kitchen counter, knuckles white as if he were holding himself together by sheer force. The dim light from the Christmas tree glowed faintly in the reflection of the window, mocking the warmth and love that should've filled this night.

“I’m tired.”

You couldn’t stop the tears, couldn’t keep the crack out of your voice as you pleaded. “Tired of what? Of me?”

He flinched at the sound of your voice breaking, his shoulders drawing tight. “It ain’t just that,” he muttered, the words coming out strained. “It’s everythin’, me, us—” He finally turned to face you, his eyes dark and distant, as though he’d already started pulling himself away long before tonight. “You deserve better.”

“Don’t do that,” you snapped through the sobs, pointing at him, your whole-body trembling. “Don’t you dare try to make this about me, Joel. This is about you. You’re the one running away, you’re the one who—” You swallowed hard, the pain rising in your throat like a wave. “Who’s giving up.”

Joel's face crumpled for just a second, but he smoothed it out quickly, replacing it with that familiar mask of stubbornness. “I am tired,” he admitted, his voice low, hoarse. “Of fightin’ every damn day with the parts of myself you don’t see. I can’t—I can’t drag you into that. Not anymore.”

You shook your head, your tears falling faster now. “I knew what I was getting into when I chose you, Joel. I chose you! Over and over for five years. So don’t you dare tell me I can’t handle it, or you.”

His gaze flickered toward the floor, like he couldn’t stand to look at you. “It ain’t enough.”

Those words cut deeper than anything else he’d said. “What’s not enough?” you whispered, your voice breaking as you stepped closer. “Me? Or us?”

Joel looked back at you then, and for a moment, you thought you saw his resolve crack. You thought he might say he was sorry, that he’d been lying, that he still loved you the way you loved him.

But all he said was, “You need to go.”

Your heart shattered.

“No,” you choked out, shaking your head violently, refusing to believe this was happening. “I’m not leaving. I’m not walking away from you.”

Joel’s face hardened, though his eyes betrayed the storm inside him. He took a step back, deliberately creating distance between you both. “I already did, darlin’.”

A sob escaped you, and for a moment, you couldn’t breathe. Your chest ached; your lungs empty despite the cold air filling the room. It felt surreal, like you were living a nightmare you couldn’t wake up from.

“Fine,” you whispered, your voice ragged. You wiped angrily at your tears, glaring at him through the blur. “If you want me to go, I’ll go.”

“I hope you know what you’re losing.”

Joel didn’t respond. He didn’t move. And when you finally stepped out into the cold December night, suitcase in hand, the sound of the door closing behind you felt like the final nail in the coffin of everything you had built together.

It wasn’t until you were gone—until the silence swallowed the room whole—that Joel let his mask fall. His knees buckled, and he sank onto the couch, his head in his hands as tears slipped through his fingers.

Because he knew.

He knew exactly what he was losing.

And he left you walk away with nowhere to go.

“Hey,” he said, clearing his throat. “I—I wasn’t sure if you’d...” He trailed off, unsure how to finish.

There was a pause, and then you spoke. “I wasn’t sure either.”

His heart clenched. He wanted to say a hundred things, to tell you how much he missed you, how every day without you had been a slow, aching torture. But all he managed was: “Thanks for calling.”

“I wasn’t sure I should,” you admitted, your voice almost a whisper. “Joel, why?

He leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “Because it’s Christmas. And because...” He ran a hand over his face, forcing the words out. “Because I’ve been a damn fool. I didn’t fight for us when I should’ve. And not a day’s gone by where I don’t regret it.”

The silence on the other end felt unbearable. “I know I don’t deserve this,” he added quickly. “But I just needed to hear your voice. Even if it’s just this once.”

His words cut through the cold night air, stirring something deep inside you. Joel had never been good at talking about his feelings, and hearing him now, his voice raw and unsteady, you realized just how much this call meant to him.

“You hurt me, Joel,” you said quietly, your voice trembling. “I gave you everything, and you... you pushed me away.”

“I know,” he said, his voice thick. “I know I did. I was scared, alright? Scared of messing up, of losing you... and I ended up doin’ just that.”

You swallowed hard, your eyes stinging. “And now? What’s changed?”

“I have,” he said without hesitation. “I’ve had a year to think about every mistake I made, every time I let my pride get in the way. I’m not sayin’ I’ve got it all figured out, but... I know I can’t go another year without you, darlin’.”

The silence stretched between you, heavy with the weight of everything unsaid.

“Joel,” you whispered, tears slipping down your cheeks.

“Just tell me if there’s a chance,” he said, his voice breaking. “Even the smallest one. I’ll do whatever it takes, I swear it.”

“Are you alone?” you asked, feeling your voice trembling.

Joel froze for a second, caught off guard by the question. He exhaled softly, his breath shaky. “Yeah,” he admitted, his voice low and rough. “It’s just me and some burnt cookies.”

Your heart ached at his words, but a small, broken laugh escaped you at his words. Burnt cookies. Joel had never been much of a baker. That was your thing. And yet, every Christmas, he’d insist on helping or more accurately, on getting in the way, while you made batch after batch of cookies.

“You burned them?” you asked softly, a hint of a smile tugging at your lips through the tears.

“‘Course I did,” Joel grumbled, though there was no bite to it. “Turns out, I’m no better at bakin’ now than I was then.” He hesitated before adding, almost shyly, “Guess it’s not as fun when you’re not here to yell at me for sneakin’ the dough.”

“Joel, I swear to God, if you eat one more spoonful of that dough—”

He grinned, a mischievous gleam in his eyes, before scooping up another bite and popping it into his mouth. “What? I’m just makin’ sure it’s good, darlin’. Quality control.”

It was like that every single time, you’d roll your eyes, only for him to pull you into his arms and press a kiss to your lips, soft and lingering, tasting of sugar and butter.

You’d tried to scold him, but he always made you laugh instead, his hands sneaking around your waist to pull you close. The cookies always took twice as long as they should’ve, and more flour ended up on the two of you than in the dough. But those moments had been yours—sweet, simple, and full of a kind of love you didn’t realize you’d taken for granted until it was gone.

“Do you remember?” you whispered, your voice trembling.

Joel’s breath hitched on the other end of the line. “Every second of it,” he admitted softly. “I remember how you’d get that little crease in your brow when you were concentratin’, tryin’ to make everything perfect. And how I’d ruin it all just to get you to look at me instead.”

You smiled through your tears, the memories making your chest ache. “You never helped. You just kissed me the whole time.”

“Well,” Joel said, his voice thick but warmer now, “you didn’t seem to mind too much.”

You swallowed hard, pressing your hand to your chest as if it could stop the way your heart ached for him. For all of it. “I didn’t,” you admitted quietly. “I loved that.”

There was a pause, heavy and delicate all at once.

“I miss you,” Joel said finally, his voice low and rough. “I’ve missed us. Not just the cookies, or the traditions... but you, darlin’. I miss seein’ you smile. I miss hearin’ your laugh when I did somethin’ dumb. I miss... kissin’ you in the middle of a mess we made together.”

Your throat tightened, tears slipping silently down your cheeks. How was it that Joel always managed to say the exact words you’d been afraid to admit to yourself?

“You shouldn’t say things like that,” you whispered. “It makes it harder.”

Joel went quiet on the other end of the line. The soft crackle of the connection was the only sound between you, filling the heavy silence where words struggled to exist. When he finally spoke, his voice was barely above a whisper, as though he was afraid saying it out loud might break you both.

“What?” he asked, hopeful somehow.

"To hate you" you said, bluntly.

“I don’t want you to hate me, darlin’.”

You squeezed your eyes shut, pressing the heel of your palm against your forehead to stop the tears. “Well, it would’ve been easier if you’d stayed away.”

“I tried,” Joel admitted.

You could picture him sitting there, in the same living room where you’d spent so many nights living together. You imagined the empty house around him, quiet and cold, without the warmth the two of you used to fill it with.

For a moment, neither of you spoke. The silence on the line felt heavier now, like it was holding both your hearts in its grip.

“I thought—” you started, then stopped, the words catching in your throat. I thought you’d moved on, you wanted to say. But you couldn’t. You weren’t ready to admit that fear aloud, not yet.

Joel seemed to understand anyway. “There’s no one else,” he said softly. “There never could be. I—I didn’t want to make you think I was waitin’, like I was hopin’ for somethin’ I didn’t deserve. But I couldn’t... I couldn’t bring myself to move on. You’re it for me.”

Your breath hitched, tears welling up as his words sank in. You’re it for me. Joel Miller, stubborn and guarded as he’d always been, was laying himself bare in a way he never had before.

“Why now, Joel?” you whispered, your voice cracking. “Why tonight?”

He let out a heavy breath. “Because i'm in love with you” he said, leaving no room for doubting “And because I couldn’t let another month pass without tellin’ you what’s in my heart. Even if it’s too late... I needed you to know.”

The line went quiet again, but this time, it wasn’t the kind of silence that felt heavy with regret. It felt different—like a small flicker of something you weren’t ready to name just yet.

“Get some sleep, Joel,” you murmured softly, surprising even yourself.

He chuckled lightly, a sound you hadn’t realized you’d missed so much. “Alright, baby. I will. You too.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered.

“Goodnight,” Joel replied, his voice soft and warm.

You hung up the phone and let it rest against your chest as you lay back on the couch, tears still wet on your cheeks.

You stood up to go back inside the house and the room felt still, like the world had paused just for you to breathe, to take in everything that had happened. The faint glow of the Christmas lights cast soft, colorful patterns on the walls. It felt bittersweet, like the warmth of a memory that wouldn’t quite let go.

Your chest ached with the weight of it all. Joel’s voice still lingered in your mind, the way he’d said baby, soft, familiar, like it belonged to you and no one else. It had been so long since you’d heard it, and it stirred something in you you’d tried to bury. Something tender and raw, something that reminded you of stolen kisses in the kitchen, of his arms wrapped around you on cold nights, of the way he used to make you feel like home wasn’t a place but a person.

You wiped at your cheeks, sniffling quietly. “Damn you, Joel Miller,” you whispered to the empty room, but your voice lacked conviction. The truth was, you didn’t know how to feel. Angry? Relieved? Hopeful?

“Are you okay?” your mother’s voice broke through the stillness, soft but laced with concern.

You startled slightly, turning toward the sound. She stood in the doorway, her silhouette framed by the dim glow of the hall light, her face etched with the quiet worry only a mother could carry.

You tried to smile, to brush it off like you always did, but the tears still wet on your cheeks betrayed you. “Yeah,” you croaked, your voice hoarse from the emotion threatening to spill over. “I’m fine.”

She tilted her head, unconvinced, and took a slow step closer. “Sweetheart...”

The way she said it made your composure wobble. You looked away, blinking rapidly as if that would erase the evidence of the storm swirling inside you. “It’s nothing, Mom. Just... Christmas stuff.”

She didn’t say anything right away, just moved to sit beside you on the couch. Her warmth and presence were enough to break something loose inside you, and for a moment, you just sat there in silence.

After a long, heavy pause, you finally spoke, your voice trembling. “I have to go.”

Your mother turned to you, her brows knitting together in quiet confusion. “Go? Where?”

You swallowed hard, your hands fidgeting nervously in your lap. “I... I don’t know…home?”

Her expression softened, and she gave a small, knowing nod. “To Joel?”

You glanced at her, startled that she understood so quickly, but you shouldn’t have been surprised. Mothers always knew. “I just-” You broke off, your voice faltering.

She studied you for a long moment, then reached out to gently clasp your hand. “Then go,” she said quietly, squeezing it in encouragement. “But go for the right reasons, sweetheart. Not because it’s Christmas, or because you feel like you owe him something. Go if you think it’s what your heart needs.”

You blinked at her, your throat tight. “What if I regret it?”

She smiled softly, tucking a strand of hair behind your ear. “And what if you don’t?”

The question hung in the air like a challenge, one that settled deep in your chest.

You exhaled shakily, then stood, your movements unsteady but resolute. “I’ll be back soon,” you said, though you weren’t sure if it was more for her benefit or your own.

She gave you a gentle smile and stayed seated, as if she knew this was something you had to do on your own. “Take a coat,” she reminded you softly.

You nodded, grabbing your coat and scarf off the rack by the door. The cold air outside hit you immediately as you stepped out, but it didn’t slow your steps as you headed to your car. Your heart pounded, nerves swirling in your stomach as you turned the ignition and pulled out onto the quiet, dark road.

Joel sat slouched on the couch, elbows on his knees, staring at the Christmas tree he’d half-heartedly decorated earlier that day. The glow of the lights cast soft, uneven patterns on the floor, but he wasn’t really seeing them. His mind was stuck somewhere else—on the sound of your voice, on the quiet goodnight that hung heavier than he could have imagined.

He sighed and ran a hand through his hair, tired in a way that sleep wouldn’t fix. It was the kind of weariness that came from missing someone so deeply it felt like it hollowed you out.

A sudden knock at the door startled him. He frowned, glancing at the clock on the wall.

With a groan, he pushed himself up, grumbling under his breath as he trudged toward the door. “Tommy, I swear I’m fi—”

He pulled the door open mid-sentence, the complaint dying on his lips when he saw who it was.

You.

For a moment, neither of you said anything. You just stood there on his doorstep, wrapped in your coat and scarf, your cheeks pink from the cold, your breath visible in the freezing air. Your wide eyes met his, filled with something he couldn’t name—surprise, maybe, or uncertainty.

Joel froze, his hand still on the doorknob, his heart thudding hard against his chest. He blinked, like he was trying to make sure you were real. “Baby?”

“Hi,” you said softly, the single word carrying so much weight it nearly knocked the air out of him.

Joel let out a shaky breath, his voice rough when he finally spoke. “What... what’re you doin’ here?”

You shifted the bag in your hands, your fingers clutching the handles tightly, like it was the only thing keeping you grounded. “I, uh... I brought some things to bake cookies,” you said quietly, your voice trembling just enough to betray the emotions you were trying to hold back.

Joel just stared at you, completely still, like he wasn’t sure he’d heard you right. The words sank in slowly, and something in his chest tightened—hard and sudden—until he felt like he might break right there on the spot.

“You... you brought stuff to bake cookies?” he repeated, his voice so low it was barely a whisper.

You nodded, a small, almost shy smile tugging at your lips. “Yeah,” you murmured. “I figured... if it’s just you and some burnt cookies this year, maybe you could use a little help.”

Joel exhaled sharply, a shaky breath that sounded dangerously close to a sob. He turned his face slightly, as if trying to gather himself, but there was no hiding the way his eyes shone in the soft light spilling from the doorway.

For a long moment, he didn’t move, didn’t speak, he just looked at you, like you were something fragile and precious, something he couldn’t believe was right in front of him. Finally, he cleared his throat and stepped back, his voice rough as he spoke. “C’mon in, baby. It’s too damn cold out there.”

You stepped inside, the warmth of home enveloping you, after being away for a year, this house still carried the faint scent of pine, Joel and something a little burnt, probably the remnants of his earlier baking disaster. Joel shut the door behind you, lingering for a moment before turning to face you again.

“You didn’t have to do this,” he said softly, his voice uneven, like he was fighting to hold something back.

“I know,” you replied, meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, the weight of your words sinking into him like a balm to every ache he’d carried for far too long. “You always know how to fix my messes,” he said, his lips curling into a small, almost wistful smile.

You gave him a look, a teasing edge to your voice despite the tension still lingering between you. “Well, someone’s gotta make sure you don’t burn down the kitchen.”

Joel let out a quiet laugh, gruff and hoarse, but real. It sounded like the kind of laugh that had been buried for too long, and the sound of it made your heart squeeze in your chest.

“Yeah,” he said softly, watching you with that same unreadable expression. “Guess someone does.”

For a moment, neither of you spoke, the air between you thick with unspoken words and years of memories. Then Joel sniffed, scrubbing a hand down his face as if to steady himself. “You still use that same recipe?”

“Of course I do,” you replied, your voice light but steady. “You’re gonna help me this time, though. And I mean actually help.”

Joel watched you for another long moment before he turned toward the kitchen, clearing his throat again. “Alright, then,” he said, his voice thick with emotion he couldn’t quite hide. “Let’s make some cookies.”

The kitchen was filled with the warm, sweet smell of freshly baked cookies. A few floury handprints stained the counter, mixing bowls were stacked haphazardly in the sink, and a couple of slightly misshapen cookies sat cooling on the tray. It wasn’t perfect, far from it, but it felt like you. Like him. Like the pieces of something familiar were falling back into place.

You set the final cookie down on the tray, brushing a bit of flour from your cheek with the back of your hand. “Well,” you said, stepping back to admire the messy success, “I think we did it.”

Joel didn’t answer right away. When you turned to look at him, you found him leaning against the kitchen doorway, his arms crossed over his chest, a quiet smile tugging at his lips. There was something soft in the way he looked at you, something so Joel,it made your breath hitch.

“What?” you asked, self-conscious under his gaze.

He shook his head slowly, that smile growing just a little. “Nothin’,” he said, his voice low and steady. “Just…you look even more beautiful than I remember.”

The words hit you like a wave, sweeping away all the uncertainty you’d been holding onto. Your heart skipped in your chest, and your breath caught in your throat, leaving you momentarily speechless. You hadn't expected that—hadn’t expected him to say that, especially after all this time.

You glanced away for a moment, suddenly unsure of yourself. The kitchen suddenly felt warmer, the space between you two too close, and yet it felt like everything was finally falling into place, as if you’d both been waiting for this moment without knowing it.

“Joel…” you whispered, your voice barely audible as you tried to steady your breath. You met his gaze again, and this time, there was something different there—a vulnerability, a longing that mirrored your own.

He stepped forward, slowly, as if giving you the space to decide what came next. But you didn’t pull away. You stood there, rooted in the moment, caught somewhere between the past and the present, unsure of what the future held but certain that, for once, you wanted to face it with him.

“I mean it,” Joel added, his voice soft but unwavering. “You always did have a way of lightin’ up a room, darlin’. But right now… you’re more than I remember.”

A lump formed in your throat, and for a second, you couldn’t hold back the emotion that swelled within you. It was like he had reached right into the depths of what you’d been afraid to feel and pulled it all to the surface. You reached out instinctively, your hand brushing his arm, the warmth of his skin making everything feel so real again.

“Joel, I—” Your voice broke, and you paused, unsure of the words.

Joel didn't let you finish your sentence. Before you could gather your thoughts, before the words could fall into place, he closed the gap between you. His hand found your cheek, his thumb grazing the soft skin there, as if he needed to feel you, to make sure this wasn’t just a dream. His lips met yours, soft at first, hesitant, as though he was giving you the chance to pull away, but you didn’t.

You kissed him back, your hands coming up to tangle in his shirt, pulling him closer as the familiar taste of him flooded your senses. It was like stepping into a memory, one you’d been holding on to without even realizing it. All the years, the distance, the pain—all of it seemed to melt away in the warmth of his embrace.

The kiss deepened, slow and tender, and you let yourself lose in it, in him, in the feeling that maybe, just maybe, this was how things were meant to be all along. There were no questions, no doubts, only the comforting certainty of him being right there, of the connection you had never truly lost.

When he finally pulled back, both of you were breathing heavily, you gazing the floor instead of his eyes.

His hands were still on your face, his fingers brushing over your skin like he was memorizing every part of you again.

“I’ve wanted to do that for so long,” Joel murmured, his voice rough with emotion. His eyes searched yours, vulnerable and open in a way that made your heart flutter.

“Are you going to push me away again?” you asked, meeting his eyes with some fear dancing on them.

Joel’s expression faltered for a moment, his gaze flickering with a mix of fear and hope. He searched your face, as if trying to understand what you were really asking, what you really meant.

“No. I will never do that again.” he answered, “I was scared,” he admitted. “Scared of not bein’ enough for you. Scared of how people talked about us. Scared that you’d wake up one day and realize you deserved better.”

“I never thought that,” you said softly, finally meeting his gaze.

Joel swallowed hard, his eyes searching yours. “I was a damn fool for pushin’ you away. And if I could go back and fix it, I would. But I know I can’t. I just…” He paused, his voice breaking. “I just needed you to know how sorry I am.”

“Joel,” you said softly, your voice trembling. “I don’t know if we can go back to what we had. But…maybe we can start somewhere new.”

Joel’s breath caught, hope blooming in his chest. “I’d like that,” he said, his voice barely above a whisper. “I’d like that a lot.”

The silence that followed felt different than before. It wasn’t filled with regret or confusion, but with a shared understanding—a quiet acknowledgment of what had been lost and what was still possible. You stayed close, your hands gently resting against his chest, feeling the steady beat of his heart beneath your fingertips.

Joel finally let out a shaky breath, as if he’d been holding it in for far too long. His hands came up to cup your face, his thumb brushing over your cheekbone, like he was memorizing the feel of you again. "I’m not askin' for all of it back. Just... a chance. To show you that I can be the man you deserve. The man I should’ve been all along."

You nodded slowly, your heart heavy but hopeful. “I’m not sure what this looks like, Joel. But we can figure it out, right? Together?”

A soft, sincere smile tugged at the corners of his lips, and he leaned down, pressing a gentle kiss to your forehead. Joel pulled back slightly, his hands still resting on your face as he looked at you with love and something more vulnerable, but what was more vulnerable than love? He took a slow breath, and then his gaze shifted toward the window, the quiet fall of snowflakes beginning to collect on the sill outside.

His voice was soft, almost reverent. "Look at that," he murmured, his eyes tracing the peaceful scene outside. "First snow of the year."

You turned to look out the window, your heart fluttering as you watched the snow gently blanket the world in white, the quiet stillness of the moment wrapping around you both like a cozy blanket. It felt surreal, almost like something out of a dream, a dream you didn’t want to wake from.

Being this close to the man you loved felt like a dream.

Joel stepped behind you, wrapping his arms around you, pulling you close again. His chin rested on your shoulder as he whispered in your ear, the warmth of his breath sending a shiver down your spine.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” he said, his voice full of raw tenderness, the words wrapped in the kind of love that had been buried for too long but never truly gone.

Before you could respond, he turned you gently, his hands sliding down your arms to hold your waist as he kissed you again, soft and slow, like this moment was meant for both of you, like it was always meant to be this way. The world outside faded, leaving only the quiet hum of your heartbeat and the warmth of his touch, the promise of something new blooming between you two.

And for the first time in a long time, it felt like home again.

[luludeluluramblings]

Neglected!Pregnant!Reader x Yandere!Conner Kent - Spin-Off

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

A/N: Spinoff based on this ask, and combing it with this AU. I was just having fun with this and kinda practicing. So apologies if it’s weird! Hope I wrote it decent at least!

A/N: Probably will follow this same idea with the main story.

Warnings: Potential baby trapping, is it voyeurism if it's just ease-dropping?, Fem!Reader, Yandere themes, obsession, stalking, a bit NSFW, pregnancy

☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️☁️

Could you blame him for not taking the opportunity when it was offered so readily to him?

Conner would easily admit he was weak for you. To anyone. Tim, Bruce, Lex, Clark. Anyone.

While none of them may not take him seriously when he says it, he meant it. Devotedly.

He still had to play his cards right after that night. The night he had heard you at a party in Gotham while he laid in his bed on the Kent farm. He was always listening for you. Your voice, your complaints, your tears, your breath, your heart beat. It was his favorite song, his favorite lullaby. Angels singing couldn’t compare to it.

And, when he heard your drunken giggle as some pathetic asshole flirted with you, he moved. He didn’t really think of taking you. He just wanted to keep the trash off you.

But, then his lips were on yours, and your legs were around his waist. Your hands in his hair, his hands on your thighs.

Conner memorized each slight hitch of your breath. Every single gasp, moan, and whimper the escaped you that night. Even the sound of his skin slapping against yours echoed in his head when he had been in the manor the next day. Listening to you sleep off your hangover and wonder aloud who the stranger you slept with had been.

Disappointment filled him when he realized you couldn't remember who he was, but he could hear your heart pick up when you thought about the faint memories you did still have of that night. That was enough for him. For now.

When he heard the faint sound of a heat beat slightly out of tempo with your own appear less then a month later, he had to stop himself from doing something stupid.

He'd at least let you make the decision when it came to that. Whatever it would be.

That didn't stop him from sneaking into your room in the manor while you slept, pressing his ear to your chest and holding his hand over the second heartbeat. Some nights he whisper. To you, and to them. Conner fights the temptation to peak. He doesn't want to take away you being the first to see them at the very least.

Of course, duty calls eventual and he has to take a space travel. Coming back to Earth weeks later, the first thing he searches for it that same sound in your chest. It soothes him to hear it. It gives him further delight to still hear the second one too. You must have found out about the second by now.

He can hardly hide his stupid grin and pay attention to anything going on around him.

Conner lets people think he's just excited to be home. Even he wears the exact same smile on his lips while visiting Tim.

His world crashes when he doesn't hear your heartbeat in the manor. You're not even in Gotham anymore. He can still hear your pulse, so his world doesn't burn. But, he sticks around long enough to realize you had left while he was gone and no one had even noticed.

It broke his heart for you, but now he didn't have to worry about the rest of them and could focus solely on you.

As soon as he left the manor with a casual wave, he was off like a hound dog on a trail. He nearly breaks the sound barrier as he tracks you down.

He isn't even mad when you scream in surprise at his sudden appearance. Doesn't even dodge the objects you start throwing at him before his arms are around your waist and his head is buried in your chest. All he can do is sigh in relief at your confusion.

"Conner… What the hell are you doing?"

"Shhhh, I missed you both."

"Missed? Both? The hell?" Futile you start trying to worm your way out of his grasp when it clicks in your head what exactly he's talking about.

"Hang on. Please. I didn't want to overwhelm you." He murmurs while nuzzling into your skin.

"Instead you let me freak out by myself like a dick. God, I've been throwing up, and filled with anxiety-"

There you go complaining, again. Muttering to yourself. But, this time it's about him, so he loves it even more. Letting you go on and on until he peppers your lips with apologies from his own and makes them stop. Gasp and moans taking their place. It's hard to tell which he likes more. Each sound you make has him falling further and further in love.

[tiyawnyana]

A/N: thought I'd hop back in to writing but for my dear, beloved wife. I can see her as at first being rough around the edges; you gotta work for her love ya know? But at her core she's a lover and will worship her partner essentially. Also! She likes being called handsome!!

Characters: Sevika x Fem Reader

Warnings: cutesy couple, soft smut, oral (reader receiving), fingering, strap-on usage, some dirty talk kinda, maybe a little ooc

Men and Children DNI

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

Long Day

Lately, you'd been finding yourself dozing off on the couch, waiting for your partner to return to the safety and comfort of your shared apartment by the bar.

Tonight wasn't any different; you were curled beneath one of your old blankets, eyes becoming heavier as the bustling below didn't cease in the streets. The neon lights of the various buildings filled the room in a green glow.

Just as warmth seeped into your bones, you heard footsteps, large boots, approaching the door. The mechanical click of a metal arm followed by the door unlocking has you slowly coming back from a not so satisfying sleep.

The door creeks open and you blink slowly.

She's trying to be quiet, you can tell. She always slips those big boots off by the door, locking the door behind her as she carefully walks in through the small hallway to find you in the living room.

"Mm-" you hum, rolling over to face the ceiling as she comes into view, hovering over the back of the couch. You give her a sleepy smile, stretching your legs with a satisfying 'pop'.

"Hey, baby," she murmurs softly, flesh hand reaching down to cup your cheek as she leans against the back of the couch,"Sorry, did I wake you?"

You shake your head,"No- if you were maybe five minutes later then most likely," you lean in to her hand, cupping it with your own.

She nods, gazing at you.

She's silent for a moment before she sighs, shoulders finally sagging as she slowly relaxes.

You lift your arms, beckoning her in.

She huffs, circling the couch and hovering over you for a moment before crawling onto the couch to lay her head over your chest. Her legs hang off the couch, but she doesn't seem to mind it.

She slumps against you, head rested over the swell of your breasts.

You bring your hand down to pull the ponytail from her hair, carding your fingers through any tangles while drifting your other hand lower to lightly scratch over her shoulders.

She releases a low hum, her arms moving to hold on either side of your torso.

It's quiet. Serene, for a little while. You can almost tune out the bustling people outside the apartment.

"Did something happen, Sevi?" You ask softly, your gaze lowering to her relaxed form.

She grumbles against you, tensing for just a moment before sighing.

"Same bullshit, different day," she huffs, voice low and filled with frustration.

You hum softly, acknowledging her,"I'm sorry," you murmur.

"Nothin' to be sorry for," she murmurs,"it's a job."

You manage a half shrug, a hum once again before brushing some hair from her face.

"You're not injured or anything, are you?"

She hums a 'no', remaining quiet otherwise.

Gradually, the tension in her shoulders and back begin to smooth out, slowly allowing her weight to completely cover you.

It's comforting, really; her solid weight, concrete and toned perfectly aligning with yours.

She didn't believe in soul mates. But if they were real.. she's positive you're it for her.

At first, you don't realize she shuffles upwards until you feel her press a soft kiss against your throat. Her breath brushes the soft skin there, causing goosebumps to form across your chest.

"You're too good to me," she murmurs between kisses, moving them up to the skin beneath your jaw.

Your eyes flutter, a soft laugh escaping your lips,"Sevi- you deserve it," you hum, baring your neck further for her surprisingly soft lips. First time she kissed you, you had expected chapped lips- but no, just perfectly kissable lips.

Her flesh hand moves, ducking beneath your shirt to cup beneath your breast. Her kisses become more heated- your eyes flutter when she sucks softly, right over your pulse.

"Need you," she mutters between kisses.

"You have me," you respond back.

She pulls back, gaze locked with your before she moves up to slot her lips over yours, her kiss soft and sweet. Just tasting, refreshing her memory over the silk feel of your mouth before she tongues at the seam of your lips, begging for entry.

You grant it, humming at the back of your throat when her tongue presses against yours, tasting you.

You can feel her shift her weight upwards, pressing between your thighs as her metal hand moves down to grip your thigh, spreading you open and wrapping it around her waist.

You cup the side of her neck, thumb tracing the faint scarring from the warehouse incident all those years ago.

She kisses you harder, almost as if to swallow you whole. She would- with the guarantee you'd be with her everywhere.

She lightly bites your lower lip, soothing the slight sting with her tongue before pulling back, pressing hotter kisses over your cheek, down to your jaw and back to your neck where she intends to make her mark once more.

You shiver, panting softly, baring your neck once again,"Sev- Sevika-" you hum softly.

She grunts against your neck, not stopping her nipping and marking.

"As much as I love this couch- mmmph-" your eyes flutter as she sucks a mark over your shoulder,"Can we- can we move this to the bedroom-?"

You yelp as she's immediately sitting up to drag you closer by your hips, legs wrapped around her waist, lifting you and standing as she grips your rear.

You press soft kisses to her throat, one hand cupping the back of her head carefully.

She treads carefully, taking her time as she walks you to the bedroom before gently placing you on the bed and cupping your cheeks to kiss you again.

This kiss is deep but brief, she pulls back to grip the bottom of your shirt, looking at you for confirmation before carefully tugging it up and over your head. You're bare beneath the fabric and she's glad- one less obstacle for her feasting eyes.

She takes her shirt off quickly, and you're grateful for the heavenly sight of her as always.

Toned abdomen, dark skin, faint and new scarring across her body with those silvery blue scars beneath her metal arm and across her shoulder. Full breasts come into view as she takes off her bra, nearly having you salivate at the sight.

Your hands move to cup her sides, leaning closer to kiss over the muscle over her stomach, the gesture stirring something in her heart.

She stops you, though, and gently pushes you back against the bed, hands moving down to untie your bottoms and tugging them off. She kisses over your hips, almost like she was worshipping you and the feel of your skin beneath her lips.

That's exactly what she was doing.

She takes her time, remapping your body beneath her lips and hands- the warmth of her flesh hand a stark but welcoming contrast in comparison to the cold of her metal hand.

She was always so careful, cautious as to not knick your skin with her metal hand.

Shivers roll down your spine as she trails back up your legs, lingering above the band of your underwear before moving up to kiss and suck marks over your breasts.

She hovers above you as she moves, mouth coming to suck over a perked nipple.

"Mmph- Sevi-" you whine softly, fingers lacing into her hair,"Need you-"

"You have me," she murmurs, kissing over your heart.

She leans back, standing to grab her strap and belt, coming back and dropping it to the side before kissing back down your front. She pulls off your underwear, tossing them somewhere to be bothered with later.

You sit up slightly, peering down at her as she kneels down on the floor, tugging you in by your hips and lifting one leg over her shoulder, holding the other down against the blankets.

You're embarrassed to see she's just gazing down at your soaked folds, arousal clear as day.

"Sevika-" you groan, attempting to close your legs in embarrassment but she doesn't let you- instead, she leans in, blowing cool air over you teasingly before pressing a soft kiss to your folds.

This is what you loved (hated) most- she took her time, was a certified munch; drawing out the pleasure by giving light and soft touches, slowly spreading you open and licking over your hard clit. She'll pull back to nip along your inner thighs, teasingly kissing around where you most needed her.

You slump back against the bed, whining softly as she prolonges the pleasure while not quite giving enough-

"Sevi- please," you whimper, attempting to roll your hips up to no avail,"More-"

She groans against you, lips sucking over your clit and relishing in your yelp of pleasure. Her grip on your legs is firm, not giving you the chance to squirm into her or away.

Her metal hand holds you down with a firm grip over your stomach as she moves her flesh hand to spread you open further, almost admiring you before her middle finger prods at your hole, carefully pressing in and gaging your reaction for any discomfort.

You sigh in bliss, the discomfort and stretch a far memory from all the times Sevika had honestly fucked your brains out.

She leans back in, flicking her tongue over your clit as she thrusts her finger in and out of you, gradually adding another.

Your knuckles go pale as you grip the sheets, neck arching as moans tumble from your lips.

"Please- please! Sevi-" you babble, chest heaving with the harsh breaths you take in.

Sevika grins, gazing up at you as she quirks her fingers, rubbing into that spot.

"Perfect," she mouths against you,"So perfect for me."

A high whine escaped your lips, drawn out under her rough tongue and deliberate fingers as your thighs tremble. You reach that crest, tumbling over it with her force.

You're warm- so warm, you can feel the cool sweat across your body.

You whine, pushing at her hand as her grip never left, giving her more time to suck over your sensitive clit.

"Too much-" you groan, panting harshly, grimacing at the overstimulation given.

She finally relents, pulling back to gaze up at you with a faint smirk. Her lips are shiny with your slick much to your embarrassment.

She wipes her mouth with the back of her hand, standing up to hover above you and press a soft, lingering kiss to your mouth as she reaches over to grab the strap and belts.

You watch as she pulls it on, securing it over her thick thighs and buckling it over her hips. You spot she managed to grab your personal favorite- a deep purple colored dildo with ridges lined along the topside.

She again, leans in to hover over you as she reaches for some pillows whilst lifting your hips carefully, placing them beneath your lower back.

"You okay, baby?" She murmurs, always careful with you.

You nod, a soft, fond look in your eyes.

"Just admiring the art," you manage to speak softly.

"There's no mirror in here," she retorts, rolling her eyes fondly as she drips lube over the strap before leaning back over you.

You cup her cheek sweetly, tugging her closer to slot your lips over hers.

You can't help the groan escaping your throat, her strap giving slight stimulation as it rubs against you.

She kisses back like she's drinking you in, reaching down between your bodies to guide the tip to your hole, carefully pressing in as she swallows your gasp.

Her tongue pushes in, the faint taste of yourself a surprisingly hot aspect.

She pushes in completely, disconnecting her lips from yours to kiss down to your neck and muttering praises into your skin.

'So good, doll','Take me so well', and 'Always taste so good' to list a few.

You pant, gazing up at the ceiling as you adjust to her strap.

Your arms finally move, having felt like lead, to wrap around her shoulders and one hand cup the back of her neck.

"You can-" you swallow,"You can move, Sevi."

She kisses your shoulder, humming as she slowly pulls out, then pushes back in. She begins a steady rhythm, slowly picking up speed as your soft moans begin to tumble from your lips.

She pulls back from being burrowed into your neck, one hand gripping your hip as she speeds up more, gazing down between your bodies to see the strap covered in your slick upon each thrust.

"Fuck, baby," she muses,"so wet- all for me?"

You manage a weak nod, whimpering a soft moan.

At this point, you kind of go starry eyed. You can't help but gaze up at her, taking in each and every mark- every form of muscle flexing as she bucks into you, the sweat beading up around her temples.

Her short hair even manages to stick to her skin or swaying with her thrusts.

"You're so-" you moan, eyes fluttering as it takes you a moment to get back on track,"so handsome- fuck, Sevi-!"

Sevika groans at that, her hips stuttering as she sits up, chest heaving. Both hands now grip your waist, tugging you into her thrusts. Her tits bounce with the force she's picked up and you can't recall a time you wanted to touch her more.

You cry out a series of moans, head tilting back and eyes fluttering as the onslaught of pleasure builds up fast, that coil below your gut winding up quick.

"Ah- mmph-" you whimper,"Sevi- oh, fuck!"

She smirks down at you, groaning alongside you.

What you don't see is that the straps belts perfectly form over her own cunt, where she grinds her clit down as she fucks into you. She can almost imagine it's actually her cock that fills you up.

"C'mon, baby," she coos, flesh hand reaching down to press her thumb into your clit,"Cum on my dick-"

You bark out a moan, a plethora of various moans and whines ripping from your throat as your back arches almost painfully- you find your release per her request, tightening up on the strap like a vice.

Your vision goes white just as you clench your eyes shut, gripping over her metal hand still holding your hip. Your thighs tighten up, not letting her go.

You heave for breath, panting harshly as you slowly slump back onto the bed.

But Sevika doesn't stop, relishing in the sight of your release slicking up the strap even moreso. She bucks, rolls her hips, chasing her high as her clit grinds into the belt.

You whine softly, watching through nearly closed eyes as she folds in, hovering above you and rolling her hips until they stutter, a low groan coming from her throat as she cums.

She slumps on you, gasping for breath.

It's silent for a few moments and you realize you had completely tuned out the noise outside.

You slowly bring your hand up to card your fingers through the hair at the back of her head.

She hums against your chest, kissing you there softly.

"So good for me, baby," she praises you, before carefully sitting up and pulling the strap from your core.

You wince, feeling empty but she's quick to come back once she's finished taking it off and tossing it to the side. She had grabbed a damp cloth, carefully wiping you down and cleaning between your legs before cleaning herself. When she turns to toss the cloth elsewhere, you sit up, watching her move about and collecting the clothes into a pile.

"Do you want me to..?" You murmur in the quiet room.

She looks at you, a soft smirk on her lips as she crosses back over to you and tugging the blankets back before settling in. She pulls you into her side, covering you before she hums.

"I already.. did," she speaks softly, kissing your temple.

You pull back to look at her, eyebrow raised,"you did?"

She only nods in response before murmuring a soft,'Sleep'.

You settle in beside her, naked form pressed up against hers. You idly trace the metal design across her prosthetic before cupping her cheek and kissing her softly.

When you pull back, you manage to mutter,"Thank you, handsome."

Her cheeks warm, a small scoff coming out before she rolls her eyes and tugs you back down to sleep.

-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-—-

A/N: lmk if you wanna be added to a taglist! I might start writing for some other characters, lmk if you have any requests!

[twissted-mind2]

**Title: A Web of Deceit**

That Tuesday evening at the PTA meeting felt routine, but tension lingered in the air. Mr. Weber, our principal, was known for his charm, masking a darker side—his romantic affairs with married teachers. My mom was one of them, a fact my dad was blissfully unaware of as he struck up a friendship with Weber.

Watching them converse, my dad laughed genuinely, completely oblivious to the history that hung between my mother and the principal. I felt sick to my stomach, realizing my father stood on the edge of ignorance. The chemistry I witnessed between my mom and Mr. Weber was unsettling, igniting thoughts of secrets and betrayal I wished to escape.

Caught in this web of deceit, I hesitated, unable to expose the truth. My mother’s nostalgic laughter rang in my ears, a haunting reminder of the closeness she once shared with the principal. The night dragged on, and I could only watch as my father unknowingly balanced on the brink of chaos, while the threads of love and betrayal threatened to unravel our family.

[moody-alcoholic]

On a Wing and a Prayer

Part 2 - Not Guilty

As promised part 2 because I have no self control... CW: Dead dove don't eat , torture, no comfort yet.

Previous parts - masterlist - next

It's different today. They’ve switched tactics.

John came in with a box. Simon reaches in and pulls out a snake. 

They’re using your fear against you. 

Something you told them in confidence, a secret, something vulnerable you told them. It brings tears, makes a pit form in your stomach as you remember you can’t move. You can't escape.

John holds your head in place as Simon agitates the snake causing it to hiss. You try to turn away but John holds you firm.

“Tell us what you know and this can all go away.” His voice is low in your ears. 

“I don’t know anything.” You whimper as Simon moves closer. You’re kicking your legs, or trying to. They're strapped down just like your arms. You’re powerless to stop them, what if it's poisonous? What if it bites you? 

You never thought you would prefer a method of torture more then another. You never thought you would be in this position. The water-boarding still continues. Only this time when you open your eyes you’re face to face with your biggest fear. 

You've not screamed before. Even as they hurt you, even as they broke your resolve. You’re screaming now. It feels like a fever dream, between the lack of oxygen and the constant presence of your fear, you can't even focus on John's questions. 

“I don't know anything, please make it stop!” You beg as you keep your eyes squeezed shut, your head hanging down as you sob. You’re cold and tired, your body shaking. It’s been hours, at least you don’t think you’re afraid of snakes anymore.

The door to the room fly's open, you look up, it's Kate with a tablet in her hands and a look of horror on her face.

“It's not her.” She says. John takes the table out of her hands. “We’ve seen the messages. We have the guy.”  Someone else is in the room now pushing past her. Kyle, he comes straight over to you. He presses his warm hands on your face. You try to smile at him but you can’t.

It almost doesn't feel real. 

“Laswell, go get a medic!” It's Kyle’s voice level and controlled. You feel your restraints loosen and you slump against Kyle. There's another hand on your shoulder. 

Maybe it's not over yet.

“No! Don’t fucking touch her.” The hand leaves as Kyle pulls you to your feet wrapping your arm around his shoulders supporting you as you lean against him.

You can’t remember the last time you were on your feet. You look back. You see Simon looking at the tablet now, John's eyes focused on you as Kyle pulls you closer, his arm gripping your waist. 

You dont think you’ve ever seen that look on John’s face before. 

Fear.

You barely register meeting the medics halfway to the medbay. Hands touch you, your body is moved but you stay silent only nodding or shaking your head at them.

You’re poked and prodded, your body examined from head to toe. Kyle is always there, you see him out of the corner of your eye. His arms crossed his gaze soft, sometimes talking to the medics.

Then you’re alone again. 

Your mind turns to Johnny, he's in this hospital somewhere. Fighting for his life. He’s all you care about now. 

You dont cry again. You want to, tears threatening to spill every time you remember what happened. John's face, his shouting. Simon's eyes, hard and dark like daggers digging into you. 

They’ve made requests to see you. You refuse. The only person you’ll see is Kyle but even then you barely speak a word to him. He keeps you updated on Johnny's condition. He avoids topics about Simon and John. 

He still asks you every time he visits if you’ve got anything you want to pass onto them. That's when you have to bite down on the inside of your cheek and look away. Hoping you haven’t betrayed yourself. 

You’ll never let them see you cry again.

That night you sneak out of your room. Your body is stiff and sore but you don’t care, you want to see Johnny. You need to see him. After a little bit of searching you find his room, he’s alone on the other side of the ward. 

That's when you cry, when you see his body laid up in bed connected to tubes and wires one even shoved down his throat breathing for him. You pull a chair up next to his bed, you take his hand in yours lacing your fingers with his. 

This feels like your fault, maybe it is. Or maybe it’s the fact you’ve spent the last few days being told it is. You stroke his arm telling him how sorry you are. That's where you let the tears out. You let yourself be upset with them, angry at them, the people you love. 

Or maybe loved. 

They’re not the same people you knew before you were locked in the room. And neither are you.

next I need overprotective Kyle in my life Banners by firefly-graphics

[soleilapproves]

Second and final part of the random breakup drabble I wrote.

Note: mentions of alcohol usage.

main masterlist

When you and Sukuna broke up, you had promised yourself that you wouldn’t contact him at all. No matter what.

Which is why you couldn’t understand why you were driving to a bar in the middle of nowhere at two in the morning. You weren’t sure why you even picked his call up in the first place. Nothing but slurs of ‘baby’ and ‘I miss you’ crackling through your phone’s speakers.

He could’ve easily called his brother. He could’ve. But he called you instead. And you, with your unshakable principles, picked it up. It had been a rough two weeks without seeing his face.

You entered the bar to look for a mop of pink hair and you found it—attached to broad shoulders that were slouched in the corner of the bar. Like a behemoth brooding in the corner of its cave. You walked towards him with slow dragging feet and tapped his shoulder.

“Fuck off,” your ex groaned into the table his head was planted on. “Sukuna, it’s me. Let me drop you home.”

Like, a dog with a whistle, the man instantly looked up to see you. His red eyes softened as he grabbed your wrist to pull you into his lap. Even when drunk, the brute had incredible control of his strength. He wrapped his arms around you and buried his head in your neck.

“How could you do this to me?”

It was ridiculous. So ridiculous that his body had basically molded to accommodate yours. How your thighs sat perfectly on his and your neck welcomed him like it was his home. You hated that you instinctively wrapped your arms around his neck and didn’t even bother to put up a fight when he basically latched on to you. Like he was holding on to the last of his happiness.

You sighed. “Now’s not the time to talk about this stuff. Let’s get you home first.”

His embrace tightened around you as he placed a drunken kiss on your pulse. “That’s not my home. It’s my brother’s. My home is with you.”

The more you tried to get out of his grip, the tighter he’d hold you. Like he was holding on to a dandelion—keeping it safe before the wind could snatch it away from him.

There was only one option left (no matter how much you dreaded it). “Sukuna, will you be okay with leaving this place if we go to my apartment instead?” He immediately stood up with you still in his strong embrace. “Let’s go.”

He didn’t put up much of a fight on the drive to your apartment. Just nodding off and slurring unheard professions of love. Something you wish you received when the both of you were still together.

It nearly killed you ignore his whimpers. The man wasn’t one to cry while sober and wasn’t even much of an emotional drunk.

But this was a whole other story.

The way he clung to you felt unnatural—like he was another man. His strong arms didn’t let you go even as you lowered him down to the couch. “Let me hold you. At least until I fall asleep. Please?”

You knew you were going to hate yourself for complying but did it anyway. You both went for your usual cuddling position— him on his side and you under his chin as you both hugged one another. It was like muscle memory.

Ten silent minutes passed by and you thought you were good to leave until you heard a slight grumble.

“Sold my bike for you.” You froze.

“Gonna make money and be the man you need. Can’t live without racin’ but can’t live without you either.”

It was depressing how these words only escaped his mouth when he was in a drunken stupor, leaving you to debate whether you wanted to remind him of what he said the next day or not.

—

I only wrote this because a comment tugged on my heart strings.

[moonlightwritingf1]

The Christmas party | LN4

❄️ summary ━━━━━━━ At a Christmas party hosted by a mutual friend, Lando overhears Y/N confessing her feelings for him to one of her friends. Amused, he teases her until she admits it directly, and to her surprise, Lando confesses that he feels the same way.

❄️ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

❄️ word count ━━━━━━━ 4.6k

It was the night of the much-anticipated holiday party at the lavish penthouse of one of their mutual friends. The air was filled with the hum of chatter, the clinking of glasses, and the soft rhythm of music playing in the background. Guests milled around, exchanging pleasantries and laughing together as colorful lights twinkled overhead. The Christmas tree stood in the corner, its ornaments gleaming in the glow of the candles scattered across the room. There was warmth in the air, despite the chilly December night outside.

Y/N was standing by the refreshment table, sipping her drink and trying to blend in with the crowd. She’d been invited to the party as one of the more laid-back guests, but her mind was elsewhere. Her thoughts kept drifting to the one person she could not escape tonight: Lando Norris.

It had been weeks of teasing, subtle remarks, and challenges from him. Lando had taken a strange delight in getting under her skin. It was like a game to him—he’d flirt, provoke, and make little jabs that were just on the edge of being too much. And she hated how much it got to her.

From the moment she stepped into the room, she could feel his gaze on her. Even as she tried to mingle with friends, his presence was unavoidable. He was standing across the room, leaning against the wall with his usual casual stance, one eyebrow raised as he took in the scene around him. His eyes caught hers briefly, and she could already feel the heat rising to her cheeks.

“Don’t look at him,” she muttered under her breath, turning her attention back to her drink.

But despite her best efforts to avoid him, she knew it was only a matter of time before he approached. And of course, when he did, he took his sweet time, letting the silence between them stretch on for just a few moments longer than necessary.

Lando finally strolled over with a carefree grin on his face. “Hey, Y/N,” he said in that infuriatingly smooth voice of his. He draped his arm around her shoulders like it was the most natural thing in the world. She tensed, but she didn’t pull away. She had learned by now that pulling away only made him push harder.

She forced herself to maintain her composure and shot him a sharp look. “What do you want, Lando?”

“Oh, nothing much.” His voice was light, almost teasing, but his eyes glinted with something else—something that made her stomach flutter despite herself. “I just wanted to know if you’re still trying to hide how much you like me.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat. She took a deep breath and straightened up, trying her best to hold onto the edge of control she had left. “For the last time, Lando, I don’t like you.”

Lando raised an eyebrow, his grin widening as he took a step closer, leaning in just enough to make her heart race. His breath was warm against her ear as he whispered, “So when you were telling your friend you’ve been crushing on me for ages, what exactly were you talking about then?”

Her breath caught in her throat. The room seemed to blur around her, and all she could focus on was his voice, smooth and confident as ever. She froze, her mind scrambling for words, but none came. How could he have overheard that? She had thought she was being careful when she spoke to Emma -a good friend - earlier, but Lando always seemed to be everywhere.

“I—” She stammered, trying to gather her thoughts, but the words were stuck. Her cheeks burned with embarrassment, and she hated how easily he had caught her off guard.

Lando took in her reaction with delight, watching the way her face flushed and how she avoided meeting his eyes. He knew he had her right where he wanted her, and he was going to enjoy this.

“I overheard, Y/N.” He stepped back slightly, giving her space but keeping his arm around her shoulders, a casual but very intentional gesture. “No need to be embarrassed. Just admit it. You like me.”

Y/N swallowed hard, feeling like she was sinking into the floor. Her mind raced with a thousand different thoughts, but none of them seemed to make it past her lips. She felt trapped, cornered by his words. He was relentless.

“I don’t know how you can be so smug about this,” she muttered, trying to push him away, though she knew it wasn’t going to work.

Lando chuckled, low and rich with amusement. “Oh, believe me, I’m definitely enjoying this.” He leaned in again, his voice soft but deliberate. “But the real question is—do you want me to stop?”

For a moment, Y/N didn’t know how to respond. She was silent, caught in the intensity of the moment, torn between frustration and something else—something much deeper that she refused to acknowledge. She couldn’t tell if he was playing with her or if he knew something she didn’t.

His tone softened as he continued, a hint of sincerity in his voice. “You don’t have to hide it anymore, Y/N. It’s okay.”

Y/N could feel her heart racing, pounding in her chest. Was he being serious? Was it possible that Lando actually... knew? That he had been aware of her feelings this entire time and had been teasing her, pushing her, just to see how far he could go? Or was this just another one of his games?

She turned to look at him, her breath shallow. “I guess you already know then.”

Lando shrugged, his grin never wavering. “I think it’s been pretty obvious for a while now.”

Y/N’s mind swirled with confusion. It was like a part of her wanted to admit the truth, to confess everything to him right here and now, but the rest of her wanted to run and hide. She had spent so long pretending not to care, trying to ignore the way her heart skipped whenever he was near, the way his smile could make her feel like the world was lighter.

“Is it?” She didn’t even recognize her own voice as she spoke, her words coming out barely above a whisper.

Lando’s gaze softened for a moment, and he gave a slight nod, as if he was finally seeing her for who she was, and not just the woman who had been so easy to tease. “Yeah, it’s been obvious. But I didn’t want to make you uncomfortable. You’d probably punch me if I pushed too hard.”

Y/N’s heart beat a little faster at that. She could hear the slight edge in his voice, the vulnerability that slipped through when he wasn’t trying to be the cocky, teasing guy he always was. She wasn’t sure what to make of it, but it made her feel something she couldn’t quite place.

“I’m not going to punch you,” she said, her voice stronger now, even though she was still trying to sort out the jumble of emotions inside her. “I just wish you’d take me seriously for once.”

“I do,” Lando said quickly, his expression more serious now, his tone a little softer. “I’m sorry if I’ve been a jerk about it. It’s just... I don’t know how to handle this. I never thought you’d actually like me like that.”

Y/N blinked, unsure if she was hearing him right. “Wait, what? You mean—”

Lando nodded, his smile returning, but it wasn’t the usual teasing one. It was almost... sheepish. “Yeah. I like you, Y/N. I have for a while. But I thought you hated me.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at the confession. This was the last thing she had expected to hear. The cocky Lando Norris, the guy who had been relentlessly teasing her for weeks, was admitting that he had feelings for her too?

She shook her head in disbelief. “You’ve got to be kidding me.”

Lando chuckled, but there was an underlying sincerity in his voice. “No joke. I didn’t mean to make you feel like this was some big game. I just... wasn’t sure what to do.”

Y/N took a deep breath, trying to process everything he had said. Her emotions were a whirlwind—relief, confusion, excitement, and even frustration all swirled together in a storm inside her chest. She had been so caught up in hating the way he made her feel that she hadn’t realized the truth was much simpler than she’d thought.

For the first time that night, she smiled, a small, tentative smile. “Well, I guess we’re both idiots then.”

Lando laughed, his eyes sparkling with a mix of amusement and relief. “Yeah, pretty much.”

And just like that, the tension between them seemed to melt away. The teasing was no longer there, and in its place was something new, something neither of them had expected. It was the beginning of something, though neither of them knew exactly what. But for the first time in a long while, it felt right.

“So,” Y/N said, taking a deep breath and glancing at him with a raised eyebrow, “now what?”

Lando grinned, his hand still resting casually on her shoulder. “Well, now we just enjoy the rest of the party. And maybe... I’ll stop teasing you so much.”

She laughed softly, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. “I think I’d like that.”

Lando chuckled in return, but his gaze lingered on her a little longer than it usually did. They were standing there together, amidst the laughter and chatter of the party, but for the first time, they weren’t just two people caught in a game. They were something more.

It had been a few days since the holiday party, and the conversation between Y/N and Lando had left a lingering, unspoken tension between them. The playful teasing that had defined their interactions for weeks had faded, replaced by a quiet understanding neither of them knew how to navigate. It was a strange and unfamiliar feeling. One moment, they were exchanging banter, and the next, they were admitting to something neither of them had fully acknowledged before: they liked each other. But neither of them had made a move since.

The days leading up to Christmas had been filled with their usual routines, but every time Y/N saw or talked to Lando—whether it was through a text, a chance encounter at a café, or even in a conversation with mutual friends—she couldn’t shake the feeling that something had changed between them.

Today was no different. Y/N had spent the morning running errands, trying to focus on the holiday preparations, but as the afternoon wore on, her thoughts kept returning to Lando. She had promised herself she wouldn’t overthink it, that she wouldn’t let him continue to mess with her head. But it was easier said than done.

She was sitting in a small café, sipping her coffee and scrolling through her phone when her notifications lit up. Among the messages from friends and family, one name stood out—Lando.

Lando Norris: “Hey, free for a catch-up? I know we’ve both been busy, but I was thinking we could grab a coffee. The café next to your place? My treat.”

Y/N bit her lip, unsure if she should respond. He hadn’t sent a message like this before. It felt different—more sincere than the usual playful banter. After a brief pause, she typed back.

Y/N: “Sounds good. I’ll be there in 15.”

She couldn’t help but smile to herself as she hit send. She wasn’t sure what Lando wanted to talk about, but she was curious to see where things would go.

Fifteen minutes later, she arrived at the café, her heart beating a little faster than usual. She spotted Lando immediately. He was sitting at a corner table, looking as casual as ever in a hoodie and jeans, his signature beanie perched on his head. His expression was thoughtful as he looked down at his phone, and for a brief moment, Y/N felt like she was walking into uncharted territory.

"Hey," she said, offering him a small wave as she made her way over to the table.

Lando looked up, his eyes lighting up when he saw her. He stood up immediately, pulling out the chair across from him. "Hey, Y/N," he said, his voice warm, but there was still a trace of something unsure in the way he spoke. "Glad you could make it."

"Of course," she said, sitting down and folding her hands on the table. "It’s been a while, huh?"

"Yeah," Lando agreed, settling back into his chair. "I mean, not that long, but..." He trailed off, clearly unsure of what to say next. "I feel like I should've texted you sooner. It's just been... chaotic, with the season winding down and everything."

Y/N nodded, sensing that there was something more behind his words. "I get it," she replied, her voice a little softer than usual. "I've been busy too. But you’re right... it’s been a while."

Lando leaned forward slightly, his hands resting on the table. "Look, I’ve been thinking about the other night—the party," he said, his voice quieter now. "I didn’t mean to make things awkward between us."

Y/N blinked in surprise. She hadn’t expected him to bring it up so soon. "I don’t think things are awkward," she replied, carefully studying his face. "I mean, yeah, it was a lot to take in... but I’m not mad or anything."

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck as he leaned back in his chair. "It’s just... after I heard you talking to Emma, I realized I was kind of a jerk about it. I teased you a lot, and maybe I pushed too hard."

Y/N took a deep breath, feeling her heart race in her chest. She wasn’t sure why, but hearing him admit that made her feel something she hadn’t expected. Maybe it was relief, maybe it was something else, but there was an honesty in his words that made her feel a little more at ease. "You were pretty relentless, I’ll give you that," she said, trying to keep the tone light.

Lando laughed softly, but there was a sheepishness in his expression. "Yeah, I know. I guess I was just trying to get a reaction out of you. But I think I went a bit too far."

Y/N shifted in her seat, feeling the weight of his words. She didn’t want to make things weird, but there was still a part of her that felt exposed—like he had unlocked something inside her she wasn’t ready to face. "I guess I just wasn’t sure if you were serious," she said, her voice quieter now. "I mean, you’re always joking around, and I didn’t know if you were just messing with me."

"I get that," Lando said, nodding in understanding. "I’ve always joked around with you, and maybe that made it harder to tell if I was being serious or not." He paused, looking directly into her eyes. "But I am serious. I like you, Y/N. I know it might seem like I was just having fun, but... I’ve been thinking about you. A lot."

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat at his words. She opened her mouth to respond, but the words caught in her throat. Instead, she simply stared at him, her mind racing. Was this really happening? Was Lando Norris, the Formula 1 driver who had spent the last few weeks teasing her, admitting that he liked her?

She took a deep breath and looked away for a moment, gathering her thoughts. "I guess I’ve been thinking about it too," she admitted, her voice soft. "It’s just... you were always so cocky about it, and I wasn’t sure if you actually meant it or if it was all just part of the joke."

Lando smiled, his eyes softening as he leaned in slightly. "It wasn’t a joke. I mean, yeah, I like messing with you, but that’s because I enjoy being around you." He shrugged. "I guess I was just scared of how you’d react, and I didn’t want to make things weird."

Y/N looked back at him, her heart racing in her chest. There was something in his expression now—something genuine, something that made her feel like maybe, just maybe, they could be something more than just two people caught in a playful back-and-forth.

"I don’t want things to be weird either," she said quietly. "But I’m not sure what happens next, Lando."

He grinned, his usual confident smirk returning, but there was a softness to it now, like he was finally letting his guard down. "Well, we don’t have to figure it all out right now," he said with a shrug. "We’ve got time. It’s not like Christmas is just around the corner or anything."

Y/N smiled, feeling a weight lift off her shoulders. Maybe it was the holiday season making everything feel a little more magical, but whatever it was, she couldn’t deny the spark between them. For the first time, she felt like they were on the same page.

"Yeah," she said, meeting his eyes. "We’ve got time."

Lando leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. "Good. Because I was thinking... maybe we could actually go on a proper date after Christmas? No teasing, just... us."

Y/N’s heart skipped again, and for a moment, she didn’t know whether to be surprised or elated. But then, with a smile that matched his, she nodded. "I think I’d like that."

As they sat there, sipping their drinks and talking more easily than they had in the past, Y/N couldn’t help but feel like this was the beginning of something new. The teasing and uncertainty were gone, replaced by something real. And maybe, just maybe, this Christmas would be the start of something special between them.

The days leading up to Christmas had been filled with holiday preparations, yet nothing could distract Y/N from the date she was about to go on with Lando. After their conversation at the café, everything had shifted. There was a new kind of excitement in the air, a quiet understanding between them that tonight was different. No more teasing, no more uncertainty—just the two of them, together.

When the evening finally arrived, Y/N was already dressed and ready, her heart fluttering in anticipation. She had taken a little extra time on her appearance, wanting to look good but also to feel comfortable. She had opted for a soft red sweater, high-waisted black jeans, and a pair of simple boots. It was nothing extravagant, but just enough to feel festive, especially with the season’s chill lingering in the air.

She had no idea what Lando had planned, but when she received his text a little earlier, telling her that he’d pick her up at 7:00 sharp, she felt a mix of excitement and nerves.

As she adjusted the scarf around her neck and checked her reflection one last time, there was a soft knock at the door. Her heart skipped a beat.

Opening the door, she was met with Lando, standing outside in a sleek black coat, a soft smile tugging at his lips as he looked at her.

“Hey,” he said, his voice full of warmth. “You look amazing.”

Y/N’s breath caught in her throat for a moment, surprised by how effortlessly handsome he looked. “Thanks,” she replied, a soft smile spreading across her face. “You look pretty good yourself.”

Lando chuckled and offered her his arm. “Shall we?”

She placed her hand in the crook of his elbow, allowing him to guide her outside. Lando's own car was parked by the curb—a sleek black sports car, polished to perfection, its design effortlessly sophisticated and understated. The engine purred softly as they slid into the plush leather seats, and Lando flashed her a grin, his eyes twinkling with excitement. “Ready for tonight?” he asked, his voice warm and filled with anticipation.

“So, how’s the holiday season treating you so far?” he asked, pulling away from the curb as they drove through the twinkling streets decorated with Christmas lights.

“It’s been busy,” she admitted, settling into the plush seat. “Work, family stuff, the usual. But I’m happy to finally take a night off.”

Lando nodded, his eyes twinkling with a mischievous gleam. “Good. Because I’ve planned something special tonight. No teasing, no distractions—just us.”

Y/N raised an eyebrow, curiosity piqued. “You planned something?”

Lando smirked. “You’ll see soon enough.”

The car ride was filled with light conversation, the two of them talking easily as the festive lights outside flickered past. But there was a warmth between them now—something real and unspoken—that made everything feel right. They arrived at their destination not too long later, and Y/N couldn’t help but feel a little intrigued.

When the car pulled up to a small, elegant building tucked away on a quiet street, she was taken aback. The restaurant was quiet, almost magical, with soft golden light spilling from the windows and the faint scent of wood and spices in the air. Lando opened the door for her and helped her out of the car.

“This is it?” she asked, glancing around.

Lando smiled, guiding her toward the entrance. “I rented the place for the evening,” he explained casually, like it was no big deal. “Just for us.”

Y/N’s eyes widened. “You rented out the whole restaurant? For us?”

“Yep,” Lando said, as if it was the most natural thing in the world. “I wanted tonight to be special. Just the two of us. No crowds, no distractions. Only you.”

She couldn’t help but blush, a warm rush of affection flooding her chest. “Lando, this is... incredible.”

He grinned and opened the door, leading her inside. The restaurant’s interior was a cozy blend of rustic charm and elegance, with soft candlelight flickering from every corner, casting a warm glow over the space. The table in the center was set for two, adorned with a beautiful arrangement of red roses and white candles. The air felt intimate, peaceful, as though the whole world had been put on pause just for them.

Lando led her to the table and pulled out her chair, the sweet gesture making her smile. “After you,” he said, giving her an exaggerated bow.

Y/N laughed softly as she sat down, feeling both giddy and touched by the effort he’d put into this evening. “You really know how to make a girl feel special, don’t you?”

Lando chuckled, taking his seat across from her. “I try,” he said with a wink. “But, honestly, I’m just glad we’re here, together.”

The waiter arrived shortly after, offering them the menu. Lando took the lead, ordering a selection of their finest dishes and wine without hesitation. Once the waiter left, the two of them were left alone, surrounded by nothing but the soft music in the background and the warm, golden light surrounding them.

“I’ve been wanting to do this for a while,” Lando said quietly, his gaze soft as he looked at her across the table. “Take you out on a proper date. Without the jokes, the teasing... just us. It feels like everything changed between us after that night. I didn’t want to wait any longer.”

Y/N felt a flutter in her chest. It was rare to see Lando this sincere, and the tenderness in his voice made her heart race. “I’m glad you didn’t wait,” she replied, her smile soft and genuine. “I’ve been thinking about it too.”

Lando reached across the table, gently taking her hand in his. His touch was warm and steady, a grounding presence amidst the quiet of the evening. “I’m glad. I want to get to know you better. No more games. Just... whatever this is between us. I’m ready for it.”

Y/N’s heart swelled. “Me too, Lando.”

The moment felt suspended in time, their hands entwined across the table, eyes locked in quiet understanding. For the first time, everything felt right. They had been dancing around their feelings for so long, teasing each other and pretending things didn’t matter when, in reality, they both knew exactly what they wanted.

Their dinner arrived shortly after, a beautiful array of dishes that they shared between them, exchanging bites and stories. The conversation flowed easily, filled with laughter and gentle teasing, but there was something deeper now—something real—that made everything feel different. As they ate, they shared their favorite Christmas memories, their plans for the future, and, for the first time, the quiet hopes they both held in their hearts.

After dinner, Lando led her outside into the chilly night air, his hand gently resting on the small of her back as they walked. The quiet of the streets was soothing, the city twinkling with Christmas lights, and the soft snowfall seemed to add a layer of magic to the evening.

As they reached the curb, Lando smiled down at her and wrapped his arm around her shoulder, pulling her close to him. "This has been perfect," Y/N said softly, her voice barely above a whisper as she leaned into him. "I don't know what to say."

"You don't have to say anything," Lando replied, his voice warm and comforting against the cold evening. "I'm just glad we're here. Together."

They continued walking down the quiet sidewalk, their feet crunching in the light snow. Lando's car was parked nearby, its sleek black exterior glowing under the streetlights. He reached for the door and opened it for her, standing back to let her get in first.

“After you,” he said with a gentle smile.

Y/N gave him a thankful nod, sliding into the passenger seat as he closed the door behind her. Lando rounded the car and climbed in behind the wheel, the engine coming to life with a quiet purr. He turned to her, his expression soft but serious, as if he was gathering his thoughts before speaking.

“I don’t know what the future holds, Y/N," he began, his voice steady but filled with meaning. "But I know that I want you in it. I've never been more sure of anything.”

Y/N’s heart skipped a beat, her chest tightening in that way it always did when he said something that made everything feel so real. Without thinking, she leaned in toward him, closing the space between them. Her lips met his in a kiss that started slow and soft, both of them savoring the moment, as if time had stopped for just them. There were no distractions, just the warmth of their connection, the promise of something more.

When they pulled away, Lando’s gaze was soft, almost vulnerable. “I’ve wanted to do that for a while,” he murmured.

Y/N smiled, a quiet laugh escaping her lips as she reached for his hand resting on the gearshift. “Me too.”

The snow continued to fall gently outside, the night air carrying the distant hum of holiday cheer from the city around them. But in that moment, as they sat in the warmth of the car, everything felt still, like the world was holding its breath for them.

This was different—real—and it was only the beginning. There were no more games, no more teasing, just the two of them finally being honest, finally giving in to the feelings that had been simmering under the surface for so long.

And as Lando started the car and pulled away, the soft glow of the Christmas lights guiding their way, Y/N couldn’t shake the feeling that this was the start of something truly special. Something that, for once, felt like it was meant to be.

[shouldering-worlds]

yes!! I love love love making new friends and spending time with people- I get bored when I'm alone! I'm not trying to escape my thoughts, I am just an extrovert!

We have GOT to stop pathologizing the joy out of life.

Saw someone claim that if you read a lot as a child, you were disassociating. No, you were reading. Because reading is fun.

"I have a problem with maladaptive daydreaming." It's only maladaptive if it negatively impacts your ability to function in the real world. Laughing at a joke you made in your head isn't doing that.

"You seem to do a lot if creative projects. What are you escaping?" I'm escaping this conversation.

Like what is the end goal? Because so far, all this has done has made it harder to enjoy my hobbies because you're turning a mindless process into something I gotta think about.

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/2

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 6, 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.

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!!!

[sainz100]

2024 Abu Dhabi GP

[fushiguho]

✮⋆˙ Chat please hear me out… what about Suguru Getou talking to you nice while greedily sucking on your toes, fucking you with all of his weight *gulps nervously*

He’d ask you to hold your knees to your chest in a sweet, drunken babble, your feet dangling on either side of his face, pretty toes deeply furled. With a half-lidded gaze, Suguru watches as your cunt swallows his cock to the base over and over and over. That deep, sloppy hole sucking him in entirely, drooling allll the way down to the swollen fat of his balls.

“Yesss, fuck you are so pretty… that cunt is sooo fuckin’ pretty, so perfect and wet and pretty for my cock.” Mindlessly, he pushes your legs up further, burly fingers digging into the plush underside of your thighs. His head is falling to the side deliriously, sable brows furrowing as a deep, guttural groan spills past his lips. “I need moreee, baby.”

As you pull your knees closer to your chest, determined to give him more, one of your dangling feet brushes against his cheek, enticing him. Suguru groans, not a second thought passing as he grabs ahold of your swaying foot, his large hand wrapping around your ankle. Kiss after openmouthed kiss is left in his wake, peppering your foot in a warm, sloppy mess.

Suguru’s breath is hot against the heel of your foot. Every short, erratic huff of air that escapes his parted lips creeps between your separating toes. He posses half the brain to stop the way his tongue is whorishly lolling out of his mouth, wrapping so desperately around your big toe, his thrusts evermore steady, bruising. A pretty, incredulous gasp drags from your gaped mouth and his cock swells.

“I c… can’t help it, okay?” He slurs between slow, languid thrusts, his warm saliva spilling between your pretty toes before messily dribbling down your ankles. “I swear to god I can’t help myself. You’re suuuch a pretty girl… I just want all of you — all of this body.” Two more of your digits are slipping into his mouth and he moans. “I don’t care, I need it… I need all of you.”

“Sug!” You whine, hips bucking in desperate attempts to meet his thrusts halfway. “Fuuuck, you’re so n-nasty.”

“I am.” It’s merely a breath against your skin as he ruts his cock into you. “You love it.”

DUHHH.