#I too had this routine of going over to their house everyday and it felt so weird when it was over

[lemonynuggets]

thinking about how Shin kept going to Midori’s house after he disappeared

[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 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

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

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

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

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

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

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

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

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

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

Interstellar. 

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

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

“Me too. I love space movies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

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

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

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

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

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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!!!

[gabriellessworldd]

Do i make you nervous?

shy, nerdy Armin x bold black fem reader

wc- 1.4k!

☆ warnings ☆: js a lil smth for my armin girlies! very light smut nth too crazy 18+, oral (f receive, you sit on his face 😛), armin is obsessed with you, so when you asked him to be your tutor he thanked his lucky stars.

"Excuse me, Miss L/n, could you stay after class, there's a pressing matter." your chemistry professor Mrs. Clark announced whilst sending you a look after she graded your assignment. "Yea i'll stay." you mumbled opening up your macbook, checking the damage, '13% no. fucking. way.' sure you weren't the best student but it was never this bad.

Class was finally over and honestly you wanted nothing more than to go back to your apartment and take a long ass nap. "Miss L/n, don't keep me waiting! Come here please." honestly you didn't want to hear what she had to say, but if you wanted to pass this class you would have to work your ass off. "Yes ma'am, what's the matter?" you were trying to be polite and sweet so maybe she'd have mercy on you but, that plan didn't work.

After 25 minutes of her lecturing you about your grades, she finally offered some help. "I would suggest you get a tutor, it could give you that extra push you need. Hearing the same stuff from me everyday clearly isn't helping you." She looks at you and shrugs, "You can see yourself out now, enjoy your afternoon." As much as she annoyed you, your professor was right, and you had the perfect tutor in mind.

Armin Arlert. Not only was he smart as fuck but he also had a gorgeous face. It made perfect sense, if that pretty boy had been teaching you chemistry you probably would've had perfect attendance and 100's on all your assignments. You saw him walking off campus and rushed after him, you weren't sure if he would help, but what's the harm in asking?

"Hey Armin!" he turned around looking for who was calling him then he spotted you waving him down. 'is y/n looking for me?' he felt his stomach do an olympic level gymnastic routine (😜) and swallowed the lump in his throat. He was captivated by you, there was just something so perfect about you. The way you laughed, your voice, your beautiful eyes, your entire being had him enthralled.

He walked over to you, "h-hey y/n" he tried not to get too nervous but the small voice crack gave him away. "hi! i was wondering if you could do me a favor?" you batted your eyelashes and smiled brightly. "o-oh! y-yea of course, what's the matter?" he said it almost too quickly, Armin was just glad he could talk to you. You studied his face, it was perfect, the way his glasses sat on his face, the pink tint on his lightly freckled cheeks, even his pink plump lips. 'wait, why is he blushing?' you smiled at the thought, this would be so easy.

"s-so you need m-me to tutor y-you?" he stumbled over his words, an hour and thirty minutes alone with you, luck really was on his side today. "Yup, that's it! Think we could start today?" you checked the time, it was 3:47. "You could come to my house now if you're free! There aren't any distractions and it would be just me nd you!" There was no way Armin was turning this down, "yes that works for me." 'fuck yea i finally made it through a sentence without stuttering' he smiled softly showing his teeth, and your knees nearly buckled.

You opened your door, the scent of vanilla and strawberries clouded Armin. Your place was comfy nd clean, "You can sit at the table over there, I need to shower quickly if you don't mind!" He nodded his head 'i can't believe im in y/n's house right now' he pulled out his textbook nd laptop, not that he would really need it.

"Thank you so much for waiting!" you walked out of your room in your pj's and matching house slippers. "You want anything to drink? I've got dr pepper, pineapple fanta, nd water." Armin watched you walk to the kitchen, your small shorts shrinking with every step, "u-uhm dr pepper is fine. thanks." You sat back down with the two drinks, your boobs bounced slightly in your exposed cheetah print push up bra. you noticed Armin's face heat up and slightly turn pink, you decided to tease him.

you leaned over the table and showing more cleavage and placed your hand on his arm, "Do you mind explaining this to me? I don't get it" Armin tried not to make eye contact with you and took a sip of his drink, but when he finally gave in your seductive eyes almost killed him. He choked on the dr pepper, "um y-yea it's dea-" "Wait.. do i make you nervous?" you cut him off, not caring about chemistry anymore, that assignment could wait.

You scooted closer to Armin and leaned in close to his face, "you're a very pretty boy Armin, did you know that?" You looked at his lips and back at his eyes, "n-no I've ne-never-" You went to kiss him and he immediately took the chance. His soft hands instantly squeezed your tits, and you ran your fingers through his soft blonde hair. The kiss was sweet but it was also passionate, it felt desperate like you both needed more. Armin slid down the straps to your top and bra, freeing your boobs. His soft hands pinched and rolled your nipples, you softly moaned into his mouth and he slipped his tongue in. But he still wanted more.

Armin pulled away from the kiss, face flushed and cheeks red, with a light sheen on his lips from your lip gloss. He lowered his mouth to your right nipple, slipping it in while still playing with the left. Your hands were still tangled in his hair, tugging at his locks. Armin left hickeys all over your chest, wanting to mark you, he needed to know that this wasn't a deluded dream and that you were right there letting him touch you. He looked up at you while sliding your tit out of his mouth with a pop, "c-can we go to your room?" his face was filled with lust, he looked so divine. "of course" you stood up and grabbed his hand, leading him to your room. Armin was anxious obviously, but the was something he needed.

You laid in your bed with your legs propped up on Armin's shoulders as he sloppily ate you out. "Fuck Armin! right there please!" He sucked on your clit, he needed you to cum, he wanted to taste how sweet you were. "o-oh fuck armin, mmhm, right there" He came up, his lips covered in your arousal, " I want you to cum in my mouth y/n." He went back to sucking your clit, you felt a familiar pressure build up in the lower half of your stomach,"a-ah mm armin. That feels soo good!" You could feel yourself about to unravel as he pushed his tongue in and out of your hole. "Cmon y/n, c-cum for me, please." he felt you pulse on his tongue and pull his hair, he started getting sloppier.

Your thighs squeezed his head as you felt your high coming. "ah Armin 'm gonna cum, fuck!" you moaned out as he sucked on your clit, making you throw your head back and squeeze your eyes closed, mouth dangling open. You felt yourself squirt and looked down at Armin watching him lick up everything.

"Can, can you s-sit on my f-face?" He wanted you to say yes, he needed you to say yes. You looked at him puzzled, "You want me, to sit on your face?" "Yes. please y/n." You nodded your head at the blonde, Armin quickly sat down, laying down fully when he saw you stand over him. You straddled his face, not fully sitting down all the way. "Y/n sit down all the way please, I promise I'll be alright." You listened and sat down.

"o-oh fuck armin, oh my god please!" his nose rubbed your sensitive clit as he continued tongue fucking you, his groans vibrated against your core. He loved the way you moaned, it sounded so heavenly, it was his new favorite sound. You needed more, you started to slowly grind on his face, "c-can you go faster y/n please." You picked up the pace, his tongue worked wonders, it was like Armin knew exactly what you liked. "a-ah Armin! 'm too sensitive, gonna cum again" You were on cloud nine, his tongue continued the ravaging pace. "c-cum for me sweetheart." The overstimulation and sloppy licks to your clit drove you over the edge "Fuck! ah Armin!" your vision went clouded as you came down from your high. Armin was satisfied, this was all he needed, to taste every bit of you.

a/n ☆: hiiii my lovebugs!! firstly i js wanna say i'm so grateful for all the interaction with "Never get yo bitch back!" also next part will be coming soon! lmk if y'all wanna get tagged in my future projects!! (y'all like the color switch for different characters or js keep pink?)

-with lots of love, gabrielle <3

[lanawinterscigarettes]

Sweet Tooth (poly Joe Goldberg x gn reader x Love Quinn)

Summary: you're a big fan of the bakery, but Joe and Love are after something sweeter- you

Warnings: obsessive behavior from Love and Joe but that's about it

A/N: my mom made me a carrot cake recently and it inspired me to write this

Everyday you entered A Fresh Tart right after lunch, needing a little something to satiate your sweet tooth before heading back to work. Sometimes it was a cake, sometimes it was a cookie, sometimes a pie, but it was always delicious.

Love quickly caught on to your routine, always making sure she was free to assist you whenever you came in. If another customer needed help, they were just going to have to wait, because you were much more important.

The bell chimed above the door to signal that you'd arrived, prompting her to smooth out the front of her apron before putting on a bright smile. "Hey! I was wondering when you were going to come in."

"I had a meeting that ran a little late, so my lunch hour got pushed back some," you replied with a smile that mirrored hers. The unfortunate bags under your eyes didn't escape her, a sure sign that you were overworking yourself, but the faint dimples that formed on your cheeks quickly diverted her attention. How cute.

"Well, you're here now. So, what can I get for you?"

While you mulled over what kind of confection you wanted for the day, Joe peeked his head out from the back. So that's the person Love always raved about coming in just after noon. You were cute, he couldn't deny that.

"If you're having some trouble making a decision, why don't you try both and see which one you like better?" He heard his wife offer when you clearly became stuck on choosing between two different sweet treats.

"Oh, I can't do that," you began to protest before Love waved her hand dismissively at your words.

"Nonsense! It's my bakery, and I say you can have a sample if you wish," she insisted while cutting a small sliver of cake from the one in the glass display case before grabbing the second pastry you'd been eyeing, placing them both in a paper to go box. "Try both, and tomorrow you when you come in you can tell me which one you liked better."

"That's awfully kind of you. Are you sure I don't owe you anything?" You asked as she slid the box across the counter, already starting to pull out your wallet.

"Of course not! It's on the house."

Despite her words of reassurance and warm smile, you still felt as though she deserved something in return, so you took out a five dollar bill and stuck it in the tip jar. "I'll be back tomorrow at my usual time."

Her eyes twinkled with admiration at the small act of kindness. You were so much sweeter than any of the things she baked, that much was certain. "See you then."

Joe came out from the back as she was watching you leave, slightly amused at the exchange that just happened. Before he could speak, however, she beat him to it.

"I want them."

It wasn't a suggestion or a request, it was a demand, one that wasn't left open for any arguments. Love wanted you, and what she wanted she got. All she needed to do was get him on board, which shouldn't be too hard given just how irresistible you were.

The next day when you came in, Love wasn't there, having taken Henry to a doctor's appointment for a check-up, which meant the she'd left Joe in charge.

"Oh, hey," you greeted in a friendly manner despite never having met him before. "You must be Joe, right? Love told me that she ran the place with her husband."

Immediately he knew why she wanted you so much. Everything about you just screamed perfect, there was no doubt about that. "Uh, yeah, hi. She told me you were having some sort of difficulty choosing between two items yesterday," he casually mentioned, wanting you to think their marriage was much smoother than it really was. They couldn't lure you in successfully if all you saw were their problems.

"I did, you're right," you replied with a soft laugh, one that made his heart leap forward in his chest. God, no wonder Love always dropped everything just so she could see you whenever you came in. He suspected the only reason she'd offered to take Henry today was so he could officially meet you and become just as obsessed with you as she was.

"And were you able to make a decision?" He was curious about you already, curious about your personal taste, your likes and dislikes. He needed to know it all.

"Well, they were both amazing as usual, but I think I'm going to have to go with the cake. Everything about it was delicious, especially the icing," you fondly reminisced, almost beginning to salivate at the thought alone.

"Sure thing," he said while grabbing a knife to cut you a slice, unable to stop himself from thinking about just how sweet your lips must taste after every trip you made to the bakery. He'd have to try a piece of the cake himself a little later so he could imagine it properly.

Your eyes were wide with giddy delight as you observed his every move, clearly excited to be able to eat the cake when you got the chance. You were just about to pull out your wallet when he held up his hand to stop you. "Don't worry about it. Love told me to tell you it's on the house."

"You know, one of these days you're really going to have to let me repay you somehow," you commented while dropping aother five dollar bill into the tip jar, just like you did last time.

Joe was already thinking of ways for you to repay the both of them, but they were far too lewd for him to say out loud. "You have a nice day," was his response instead, giving you a small wave as you left.

Damn it, he was hooked. There was no way he could refuse Love's order, because now he wanted the exact same thing she did: you.

And they were going to have you, one way or the other, no matter what it took.

End notes: I loved writing this and I'd totally be up to making a part two if anyone wanted it <3

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[redroomreflections]

A New World: A Mom for Hugs

Wanda Maximoff x Natasha Romanoff x Child!Reader

Summary: Bunny is beginning to understand what it means to have a mom.

No trigger warnings I think. Will probably pull at the heartstrings. This is for anon bestie who asked for it.

in the sixteen candles universe available on a03

w/c: 2k

Life in Westview had settled into a gentle rhythm, a mix of routines and quiet moments that Natasha and Wanda had carefully created for their little family. It was an adjustment for the two of them to be the best parents they could be for the girls. It hadn’t been easy, but after months of hard work, the house now felt like a true home—a place where Faith and Bunny could finally start to heal.

Bunny had been officially diagnosed with selective mutism not long after she and Faith moved in. Natasha and Wanda had suspected as much from the start, but the confirmation helped them understand their new daughter better. It explained the way Bunny would retreat into herself, the way her voice seemed to get stuck somewhere deep inside. With the help of a kind therapist, Bunny was slowly learning to navigate her world, and both girls were making progress, however gradually.

The house had adapted too. Visual charts and schedules were now a part of their everyday life—bright, colorful guides that hung in the kitchen and hallways, providing structure and a sense of security. At first, they’d been meant for Bunny, to ease her anxiety and help her know what to expect each day. But over time, Natasha and Wanda noticed that Faith had started to rely on them as well. Whether it was checking off tasks on the morning chart or quietly using the emotion wheel, both girls found comfort in the predictability and order these tools brought.

"Make a space for her that is only her own," The therapist had recommended. "Let her know it's where she can go if she's scared, afraid or needs time alone." She reminded them. "Always respect that boundary if she doesn't want anyone there."

So in Bunny’s bedroom, they’d set up a small tent in one corner—a soft, cozy space filled with her favorite stuffed animals, blankets, and a tiny lantern. It was Bunny’s sanctuary, a place where she could retreat when the world felt too big. Wanda had spent countless hours in there with her, just sitting quietly, offering silent reassurance whenever Bunny needed it.

Faith had her own way of coping. She was more independent, spending hours reading or doing homework in her room. But she was never truly far from Bunny. Natasha had noticed how Faith would hover, always watching, always ready to step in if Bunny needed her. It was a role Faith had taken on long before they arrived in Westview—a protective older sister, who had learned too early how to shield her little sister from the world’s harshness. Wanda often found herself watching the girls, her heart swelling with a mix of pride and sadness.

She couldn't believe she got to bear witness to such a pure and innocent relationship. It was much like her own and reminded her of the times she and Pietro were practically attached at the hip.

It was a beautiful thing to watch, and Natasha and Wanda tried their best not to interrupt, unless it was time for dinner or bed.

Some days, Bunny liked to help in the garden. It was one of her favorite things—stepping out onto the soil with bare feet, feeling the earth beneath her toes. She’d spend hours digging in the dirt, searching for worms or hidden treasures, completely absorbed in her little world. Natasha quickly realized that despite her sensitivity, Bunny was fearless about everyday things. The girl would fearlessly pick up earthworms, let ladybugs crawl on her hand, and splash in muddy puddles without a second thought.

“These things don’t hurt like people do,” Bunny had once said quietly, holding up a wiggling worm for Natasha to see.

The words had hit Natasha hard. They made sense, of course, but hearing them out loud from someone so young was a painful reminder of the life Bunny had known before coming here. Natasha had nodded, kneeling in the dirt beside her, and gently patted her shoulder. “No, they don’t,” she had agreed, her voice soft. “And they never will.”

Bunny’s simple observation had lingered with Natasha. It was clear that Bunny was beginning to make sense of her world, finding safety in the quiet, predictable things like the garden. There, she could be herself—fearless, curious, and free from the weight of her past.

As the day wound down and the evening sky darkened, the girls went through their bedtime routine—Faith brushing her teeth while Bunny carefully picked out a book for the night. Wanda read to them, her voice soft and soothing, as the girls settled under their covers. The house was quiet now, the only sound was the soft rustle of blankets and the rhythmic ticking of the clock on the wall.

Bunny woke with a start. She blinked around the room as her hands swept across the sheets blindly. She grabbed at the purple elephant clutching it to her chest. Her back was sweaty and she felt immensely hot. She tried to catch her breath as she sat up.

Usually, when she had night terrors she would run to Faith's room and crawl under the covers. She would force herself into the older girl's arms until she scared the nightmares away. Bunny loved her big sister for that. This time though she wanted more.

She pushed back the covers and slid off her bed. The floor was cool on her bare feet as she walked quietly towards the door. She opened it as softly as she could. The hallway was dark and her heart pounded in her chest. She took a few steps, the plush carpet silencing her footsteps.

The door to Natasha and Wanda's bedroom was cracked. Bunny paused. It was quiet and dark in there. She could tell both women were sleeping. She debated on whether or not she was allowed inside the bedroom. No matter how many times they assured her she was she just couldn't do it. She stood there, her hand reaching for the door.

Her hand hovered over the handle and her breath hitched in her throat. She padded over to Wanda's side of the bed. Her knees sank into the carpet and her fingers clutched the edge of the comforter. Her face was close to Wanda's. The woman's breathing was even. Her red hair was strewn across her pillow. Bunny took a shaky breath and leaned over, pressing her hand against the woman's shoulder.

Wanda stirred. She turned her head towards the girl, blinking. She had half a mind to be surprised by the child, but she knew better than to let it show. She'd gotten used to the occasional night visitor. "Hi, honey." She tried to see Bunny's face through the darkness. "Are you okay? What's wrong?"

Bunny frowned. She wanted to speak and tell Wanda all of her fears. Instead, she signed. It's another thing they'd been practicing extensively for moments like this. "I can't sleep."

"Oh." Wanda sat up. "Did you have a bad dream?"

The little girl nodded and bit her lip. She didn't want to talk about her dreams. She was scared to think about them.

"Well, how about I come and sit with you for a while?" Wanda suggested. She glanced behind her to see Natasha still asleep. Not wanting to disturb her, even though she probably wouldn't mind, Wanda threw the covers from her body and sat up straight. She rubbed her eyes and stretched her arms.

Bunny's heart swelled with hope.

Wanda looked down and reached for the girl's hand. "Come on, let's go get a glass of water and we can sit in the living room." As they began to walk, Bunny tugged at her arms.

"I have to pee first," Bunny said quietly. Her voice croaked, filled with sleep and lack of use.

Wanda chuckled. "Okay, sweetie. Then we'll get a glass of water." Wanda stood outside of the bathroom, one leg crossed in front of the other as she waited. She eyed the hallway, wondering if Faith was having just as much trouble as her sister, when her thoughts were interrupted by the flushing of the toilet.

The door opened and Bunny appeared, rubbing her tired eyes. She held the woman's hand as they walked to the kitchen. Wanda poured them each a cup of water.

"I'm sorry," Bunny whispered, her voice cracking. "For waking you up."

"That's okay, Bunny. You know I don't mind," Wanda said softly, handing her a cup. "I'm here whenever you need me."

Bunny drank from her water cup, downing it as if her life depended on it. She passed Wanda the cup and waited patiently for their next steps.

"Do you wanna tell me what your dream was about?" Wanda asked, leading the girl into the living room.

Bunny shook her head. She sat beside Wanda on the couch and looked over at her expectantly. Wanda could see that the little girl was exhausted. She wished she kept better track of how the little one was sleeping.

"Okay," Wanda sighed. "We don't have to talk about it if you don't want to." She looked over the girl and watched her shoulders droop. "Do you want to come over and sit in my lap? I heard it's pretty comfy."

Bunny grinned and nodded. She climbed into Wanda's lap and buried her head into the woman's neck. Wanda could feel the warm breath on her neck and her heart clenched. She dared to raise a hand and run her hair over Bunny's head. The girl's hair was a mess, tangling in the woman's fingers. It wasn't often she'd let anyone touch her hair so they made do with the times she would allow Faith to run a comb through it. It was almost time again.

Bunny seemed to enjoy the physical contact. She reveled in Wanda's warmth. Her body was tired, but she couldn't sleep. She didn't want to.

"Are you scared?" Wanda whispered, her fingers gently playing with the tail end of Bunny's braid.

Bunny's nod was hesitant.

"What are you scared of, my love?" Wanda kissed her temple.

"I don't want the mean people to take me away from you." Bunny admitted. "I want you to keep being my Mama."

"Oh, baby." Wanda wrapped her arms around her tighter. "I will keep being your Mama for a very long time." It wasn't often Bunny used that title. Faith never. Wanda's heart never failed to soar whenever she heard Bunny call either one of them those words.

"Promise?" Bunny lifted her head and looked up at her.

"I promise, honey." Wanda cupped her cheek and wiped a stray tear. "There's no getting rid of me."

"At my old house, my mama didn't sit with me after I had a nightmare," Bunny said. There was no emotion in her voice. It's simply a fact for her. She was telling Wanda something she knew and she was expecting her to understand. "Only Faith."

Wanda nodded. "I will sit with you after every nightmare."

"You don't get mad when I don't talk," Bunny spoke again. Another fact for her. "Even though it's hard."

"Of course, I don't." Wanda kissed the top of her head. "What emotion are you feeling right now? Can you tell me?"

Bunny scrunched her nose, her eyebrows pulled together. "I don't know."

"Is it a good one or a bad one?" Wanda asked, hoping to help the girl identify her emotions.

"Happy," Bunny answered.

"Happy," Wanda repeated. She hadn't expect that answer.

"I'm happy because I get to be with you," Bunny explained. "Riley has a Mama that hugs her all the time. Whenever she wants."

Wanda smiled. She'd met Riley, one of the few kids Bunny was willing to play with. Bunny nuzzled deeper into Wanda's arms.

"Mama."

"Yes, Bunny?"

"Can you do your magic?" Bunny asked. She noticed Wanda's hesitation. "I want to see."

Wanda grinned and held up her hand. Red wisps appeared.

Bunny was mesmerized by the sight. It was unlike anything she'd ever seen. She watched, her mouth gaping open as the wisps danced around her fingers. It was warm and inviting. "Riley's mama can't do that." She said.

"No, she can't," Wanda whispered.

Bunny's eyes drooped and her breathing became more even. She rested her head on Wanda's chest and her hands gripped her shirt.

"Sleepy?"

"I think so," Bunny mumbled.

"Do you wanna try going back to bed?" Wanda offered.

"No," Bunny shook her head.

"Okay, let's stay here for a little bit," Wanda said. "And when you're ready, we can go back to bed."

Bunny nodded.

Wanda began to stroke Bunny's arms, slowly rocking her, soothing whatever fears she had. The girl was nearly asleep and Wanda could have sworn she heard her hum in delight.

She wasn't sure how much time had passed, but eventually, Bunny's breathing had evened out. Wanda looked down to see the girl fast asleep, her mouth hanging open. She smiled to herself, her heart feeling full. So this is what true love felt like.

[boizandgurlzinthehouse]

𝐭𝐡𝐞 𝐭𝐡𝐢𝐧𝐠𝐬 𝐰𝐞 𝐝𝐨 𝐟𝐨𝐫 𝐥𝐨𝐯𝐞.

pairing: coriolanus snow x toxic!fem!reader

summary: someone always throw a spanner in her works, to achieve her biggest dream —being coriolanus’ lover, wife and claiming power. luckily, y/n is not on the loser side when it comes to playing. 

trigger warnings (overall): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, blood, violence, killing people, hunger games stuff, i just love volumnia gaul, reader hates lucy gray and everybody who’s around coriolanus, mental health problems mentioned such as psychotism, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies.

trigger warnings (in this part): mastermind!reader, toxic!reader (for real, she’s doing nasty things), reader’s family is a bit fucked up, reader is obsessed with coriolanus snow, lying, swearing, domestic violence mentioned, drugs, mention of sexual fantasies, mentions of gaining weight and wearing a corset (patrick bateman vibes), i really hope it doesn't seem like bodyshaming, reader has problems only with her own body.

prologue.

𝐏𝐀𝐑𝐓 𝐈. 𝐓𝐇𝐄 𝐍𝐄𝐖𝐒.

another day. another chance to win him over. 

y/n could be named for many things: a filthy liar, a nepo-baby, a psychopath or simply a crazy girl, but she was never, ever lazy. waking up, she always had the same routine: getting out from the bed, changing into her underwear she wore the day before, making her hair up into a bun, spreading carbon on her teeth to be white as marble. working out, even if it hurt, because how could she be the best wife ever for coriolanus if she was lazy and out of shape? through workout, she thought about who she is. i am y/n y/l/n, youngest member of the house y/l/n. we are noble, i am noble, and i deserve everything what i have now. i am beautiful, clever and nobody can ever drag me down. the people who hate me are only envious of my life, my body and my mind, but they’re all going to soil. i love the life i have, and i will appreciate every single second of the life i will have when i achieve my goals. i have every tool i can use to win, and i will use them to be the woman i want to be. it’s not far away, and everyday is a chance to be closer to the woman i want to be.

after that, taking a bath, scrubbing her body with a sponge, so her skin would always be silky, using her razor to get rid of the unwanted, ugly hair on her body. smearing vanilla and rose oil onto her skin: vanilla for being gentle, and rose for coriolanus. brushing her teeth, washing down the charcoal, washing teeth with the regular toothpaste. sitting in front of her dressing table, picking her eyebrow, putting cosmetic oils and serums on her cleavage, her neck and her face. while letting it dry, picking out the outfit of the day, calling in her maid, hortense to help her with the corset if she felt that she gained too much weight because of the medicine, or was on her period. y/n hated so-called red days, and waited for the day when she could bear her husband’s children. putting her clothes on, sitting at the dressing table again, her maid helped her if she wanted a special hairstyle. checking her manicure, it was now soft pink, it’ll match with her clothes. making her hair, she did her makeup, curling her eyelashes, putting a little chili on her lips to be so full –it hurt like hell, but how could she be perfect if she didn’t put effort in it?, whilst repeating another list in her mind. this was for coriolanus. 

be kind with him, but never too kind. be kind and modest with everybody else, so they won’t notice it. agree with him in the things that are important, but also speak your mind if he seems doubtful. speak your feelings to convince him, you are important to him. always accept his help, but don’t make redundant situations, don’t look like the damsel in distress. make him feel special, let him be the man he is, make him feel that you support him and his plans, but never make too big promises. don’t look pathetic, don’t show your emotions too much. never talk about him to others, only if they mention him, talk good about him, and talk bad about others if it’s needed. don’t make a scene if something doesn’t work your way, it will sooner or later. take action when it’s the right time. 

applying lipstick as the last step, she was ready to step out from home. y/n knew she had a strict routine, but doing mornings on autopilot let her think about more important things, like her daily plans. first destination was the school where coriolanus was, but first, she needed to get her papers after graduating, after that they’re gonna have lunch together, and then, she’ll look for the letters to see if volumnia gaul accepted her application. probably she will, she knows her entire family, how great they are, and she probably heard about y/n herself too. 

“good morning ms. y/l/n, how are you?” lacy, her sister’s maid asked her as she carried the laundry in a big basket through the hallway on the ground floor. 

“i slept well, lacy, thank you. where is my sister?” 

“your sister, morphia went to arrange the flowers and the cake for her marriage. i am so happy for her, ms. y/l/n!” 

y/n couldn’t decide if lacy was truly happy or just acting. but she wasn’t a threat, so y/n didn’t care. 

“me too, lacy.” 

her father was sitting at the head of the table, reading the tabloids, her mother, lorelei was eating some eggs with meat, some gin in her glass on the side. 

“this pheasant is really good, cyril.” she mentioned, looking up to see her youngest child. “oh, my sweet, y/n! good morning.” 

“good morning, mommy.” she said, giving her a kiss on the cheek, going to her father, she waited until he stopped reading the tabloid and looked at her. her father, cyril y/l/n was really strict, but not as strict as crassus snow. once, after her father made her burn the flowers she tore off from their garden and beat her, her mother stroked her cheek, saying “oh, honey, don’t be sad. your father is a good man, not like crassus snow. i think you should be glad that you don’t have him as your father.” so this way, y/n was happy. or so her mother thought. 

“good morning, father.” she told him too, giving him a kiss on the cheek too. she could do that until she was eighteen, after that, only the greeting was acceptable. y/n saw once, when morphia tried to kiss her father when she passed eighteen, she got slapped across the face. but they were happy, weren’t they? 

“how’s your application with gaul?” he asked as y/n sat down. 

“i handed it in yesterday. probably a letter will wait for me in the afternoon.” 

“why, what will you do today?” 

“cyril, i already told you that! your butler even wrote it down for you!” her mother whined, looking at her daughter. y/n took a slice of bread, reaching for the butter and the knife. 

“don’t mind it, mother. i’m going to the school to get my graduating papers, then have lunch with coriolanus, and then–”

“coriolanus snow? that boy and his family are broke, his father was gullible and got killed by the rebellion. why are you humbling yourself in his presence?” 

control. control your face, your hands. y/n’s fist curled around the knife tighter, grabbing it with real force. 

“i know, but he has great talent. and he’s gonna be the next president of panem.” she replied calmly, looking at him. sometimes she fantasized about stabbing him there, at the head of the table. 

“president of panem? y/n, you are so amusing when you say things like this. but i truly hope your words will become reality someday. crassus wasn’t gullible, everybody was afraid through the first rebellion.” his face softened, just as he spoke to a three year old. 

“yes, honey! your father doesn’t doubt you, he’s just amazed at what you are saying.” her mother added, sipping on her gin, batting her lashes. it wasn’t even ten in the morning, as she was already wasted. after eating the slice of bread, y/n stood up, hiding the knife into her sleeve. 

“i’m going out, but i’m gonna be here for the letter. please don’t open up before me.” she asked, making her father look up. 

“hortense is going to bring it to your room.” 

“thank you, father.” 

“honey, you didn’t even touch the caviar and the honey, please eat some more!” 

kissing her mother’s cheek again, y/n looked at her. she got her eyes, her mother was truly beautiful when she was young, acrimonious lips talked cyril only married lorelei because of her looks. nevertheless, the creed family was also noble, y/n only had to bear festus’ horrible personality twice a year, christmas and the reaping. 

“don’t worry mommy, i’ll be fine.” 

she could work easily with an empty stomach, getting back to her room, preparing her bag. looking at the medicines, she put the bottle under her clothes. she didn’t need these pills that made her useless, slow and lazy anyway, she needed something else… and she knew her horrible cousin, festus got that white, powdery thing. grabbing the butterknife from under her sleeve, she touched it. it was the worst knife ever, blunt and short, like some of the fighters in the games. y/n loved her father, respected him and counted on his words, but questioning her and laughing at her, it was the exception if it came to love and respect. and if her father is doubting her again, she will–

funk! well, who thought that people could stick butter knives into the wall? 

arriving at the school, showing her papers that she was a private student, the secretary gave out her graduation stuff. nodding, the secretary told some things, but her mind was focused on finding festus. going to the main hall, everybody whore red, y/n was the only outstander with her black skirt, soft pink blouse and black blazer. every school uniform was truly awful, the capitol is the wealthiest in all panem, couldn’t they make it a little bit more… pleasant? it’s a shame that every fabric is on their hand, available, and still, they style it horrible. nevermind, festus was there, chatting with that bitch arachne and that fucker pliny harrington. 

“hey, festus, hey, everybody. can we talk for a minute?” she turned to her cousin. festus looked at her, smirked, then looked at the others. 

“of course. sorry, it’s only a minute.” he said to them, walking to one of the corners with y/n. leaning to one of the marble piles, he dug his hands into his pockets. “so, what do you want?”

“why are you asking me so pitiless?” y/n blinked at him. for some people, formality in family could seem heartless, but she was relieved that she didn't need to waste her time if she didn't want to.

“you talk to me only if you need something.” 

“me? don’t be ridiculous, i helped with all your assignments in school, what would your mother say if she heard that?” y/n couldn’t be a big gamer if she didn’t knew the connections in her environment perfectly well. seeing how festus’ face became a little bit rigid, she continued. “anyway, i want from that white dust you gave me last time.”

she couldn’t even carve a wider grin on his face, even if she wanted to.

“so you liked it? it’s better than your stupid pills.” y/n had a poker face, but she wondered how he got to know. “you’re not the only one who knows things in the family.” fucker, you don’t even know everything, yet you still play like you’re the most clever. the funny thing is that it ain't what you don't know that gets you into trouble, no. it's what you know for sure that just ain't so.

“i have business somewhere else soon, can i get it or not?”

“it will cost some money, but i am always happy to help my family.” oh, fuck off. y/n reached her hand like she wanted to shake hands with him, and this way, demand and supply met. “if you drink some of it, it’ll be better. you are a crazy bitch y/n, but if snow really will be the president, remember me as one of your biggest supporters.” he smiled. “oh, and volumnia heard some of his great ideas about getting more audience for the games. if you’ll work for her, that ugly power couple thing can be really dangerous.” what ideas? she knew it was a problem that the game wasn't so popular, and he thought that coriolanus wasn’t so interested in that. of course, until now, because big money was at stake, and everybody was prowling around the corner. y/n curled the corner of her lips up under duress, bidding goodbye to festus. she wasn’t gonna take it now, she used it only for emergencies.

now, she could completely focus on coriolanus. where was he? walking to the other long hallway, looking around, he was nowhere despite that they stuck to eleven am yesterday. suddenly, she felt two hands on her shoulder, making her turn. 

“there you are!” there he was. y/n could look at him for an eternity, could he look better under eleven hours? everything about him was perfect, from the way he looked to the point he talked, and y/n almost tasted the sweetness when his mind was forming those clever, great thoughts. and his looks? she knew they could have the most precious children; angel blonde hair, blue eyes, chiseled jawline she could kiss a million times, his body was sculpted by the gods who were looking down on them, and she prayed every night to the deities so they could be each other’s one day. in y/n’s mind, coriolanus wasn’t just a boy or a soon-to-be-man. no, he was the base of everything, he had everything that y/n needed, and y/n was raised truly the best way. nobody else could get in the near of the perfection he formed, and y/n could see the future. the future, where they marry, she is in the longest, most beautiful white dress full with gemstones like rubies, sapphires, diamonds and emeralds, vowing endless loyalty to each other, the whole world is envious of the wealth they have. the future, where he becomes the president of panem, leading the nation with a strong hand and making decisions with a strong mind, while y/n helped to make the games more impressive, more dangerous, more cruel, but first of all, supporting him in everything, even if she has to get her hands dirty. the future, where she was pregnant with his children, naming them ancient names so they could mirror the same noble qualities those deities had, raising them the best way so they could even outgrow them, perfect people. “how was your morning?”

the future they could have. the future they WILL have. 

“hello, corio. mine was pretty good, got my graduating papers. how was your day so far?” 

“it was… good, i guess? this mentoring thing is new for everyone, i spent all night thinking how lucy gray could win.” 

that name, again. keep it cool. 

“i’m sure you will think it out. shall we go and eat lunch?” 

sitting in a gorgeous, golden restaurant, y/n chose a corner for them to sit in. when their food arrived, she waited for him to speak. it seemed like something was itching his mind, and she was one of his best friends, wasn't she? corio looked to the side, then at her, then took a bite from his lunch. let’s break the ice. 

“is everything okay, corio?”

“yes, yes, everything’s fine. is it… on my face?” 

“well, since i…” don’t make it too personal. “...since we know each other so well, i see worry on your face. you can tell me everything.” 

“it’s… it’s gonna be really, really embarrassing for me, but… so, y/n, it’d be my pleasure if… you’d come with me on a date?”

clawing on her thigh, was this reality? was coriolanus really, really asking her out in this glorious place? was she truly worthy of his love? moderating her grin to a smile, she looked at him. he was truly a love-child of an angel and a god, and while y/n was truly a masterpiece herself, it was the biggest honor for her to get into the grace of this guy. now, the idea of the wedding and the best imaginable life wasn’t so far away. did the gods hear her prayers above, and saw the list she created? 

“forget it, y/n, i know i’m not–” coriolanus tried to hush the previous idea with an embarrassed look on his face, but y/n shook her head. obviously, her mind wandered for too long. 

“no, no! of course i’d go on a date with you. with pleasure.” y/n smiled, slowly reaching for his hand that was on the table. they touched each other frequently before, but not like this. she hated a part of herself, the part that could melt under his touch and got dizzy from only his skin. but truly, she could eat it up if she could. 

“oh, okay, well… i just… thought that it’s embarrassing, because you pay for all of this, and–” never let a man’s pride falter. it’s the firewood for the campfire, the pressure for the diamond, the water for the plants. if you feed a man’s ego, he’ll trust and love you. 

“corio, dear, please. i’m not with you because of your money, we can’t do anything about our past and families. and you’re gonna win the plinth-prize, so what are we worrying about?” 

“but–” y/n hushed him gently, playing her finger in front of her lips. 

“i’m sure you will win that prize. why, who else would win it? the daughter of an energy secretary? or a rich, spoiled kid?”

“they are all rich and spoiled.” y/n totally let pass the fact that she was too. but what was the problem with it, really? they couldn’t do anything about it, you can’t decide where you were born. a person can change everything about itself, but not its origin. it always stays with you, clinging onto your ankle, to drag with yourself everywhere. in this life, they got on the winning side of the wheel. and who cares about the next life? 

“but no one’s father is a general, except you. and i know that you didn’t like him, but keep the mindset.” 

“you are so clever, y/n. thank you for always putting my mind into it’s place.”

“i’m just telling the truth. and… how are things with the game? is it hard?” 

“oh, it’s… i still need to figure out some things. but i had some ideas about ways to get people more engaged in the games, like getting them sponsors, or interviewing the tributes so the viewers can get closer to them, pick a favorite, some things like this.” 

“it sounds really interesting, did volumnia hear these things?” as much as she hated festus’ bragging, he also mentioned things that she could use. maybe that’s why everybody got rid of her so fast at a big gathering like the graduation two days ago. she never had ‘juicy tea’ or some things like that, only if she wanted to get something. and when she wanted to get something, the chamber of secrets instantly opened. 

“yeah, well she came in when we were discussing those things. she said that i need to write it down, and then clemensia interrupted that we’ve always worked and brainstormed together, so we can write that together, too.” 

totaling another pen, dovecote? being a tricky bitch, i wasn’t expecting less from you. 

“i think volumnia should know that the idea was yours. clemensia is your good friend, but why wasn’t she just cheering that you got the gamemaker’s attention?” plant the seed. maybe not with clemensia, she will do it for herself, but anyway. coriolanus needed to know the truth. 

“i will talk with her about this.” he won’t. he’s too kind-hearted for it. “and i’ll write down my ideas. anyway, how’s your application for volumnia gaul? did you hand it in?” y/n nodded at his question, chewing on the potatoes. 

“got handed it in yesterday. i really hope if i go home this afternoon, a letter will be waiting for me.” the smile on his face was worth everything. what could that mouth do if there were only the two of them? because she knew what her mouth could do. 

“i’m sure she’ll hire you. one of your thesis got onto her table, remember? the one you wrote about the possible content of venom in mono– and dicotyledons. and if she’s not, then she’s a dingbat.” y/n remembered that thesis, her brain always burned out from the three-day long insomnia. 

“careful, corio! i hope she doesn’t have ears everywhere.” that woman was the queen on her chess table, it was the side that could never be decided. 

all the way home, she thought about coriolanus. y/n gotta hide the grin she was forming with her lips when she was driving home with the chauffeur of the family. all the effort, all the pain… it was worth it. she almost teared up from the joy, but her mascara was really expensive, even her mother thought that it was too rich for their blood.

“is everything alright, miss y/l/n?” helius, their private driver asked, looking into the rear-view mirror. y/n nodded, exhaling and inhaling. big news like this always messed with her head. nodding, everything was perfect. 

stepping inside the house, she raced up to her room immediately. there was the letter, persephone slept beside it. picking it up, y/n used her nails to tear it up. she never waited for news like this. the sooner she knew, the sooner she could got suit in the new situation. 

dear y/n y/l/n, you got accepted…

throwing it away, she instantly picked up persephone, screaming into her fur. persephone meowed, already used to her owner’s insane habits. anyway, the food was tasty in the house, so why not bear it? 

“you hear this, persephone? the lucky star is shining on us.” she whispered to the cat, stroking her head. she couldn't sit back, not now. not when good things, the reward of the hard work could be felt. not when everything worked for her plans. “mother and father will be so happy. and we are happy too, aren't we?” 

y/n didn't know happiness, only when her heart got fast and drug-like feeling curled in her blood. but now, she got to be a predator. a predator who sat for hours, days to catch its prey. when news were coming in, things always changed. she had to be patient, but she couldn't get lazy, not now. not when strange news was coming up. news that didn’t match with her expectations, nowhere, never. news that bathed her soul with venom. news that raised her little game onto a new level. 

a/n: the prologue got so many notes like my tumblr literally BLEW UP thank you so much girliez 😭 i hope you liked this part, more focus will be on corio i just want to size up reader's mindset

take care of yourself babes, love y'all luisa

[eunbitchh]

take a ride with me

*18+ MDNI*

word count: 2k

pairing: non!idol au, biker!ningning x fem!reader (she/her pronouns used, referred to as a girl)

warnings: fingering, clit slapping (like once), degradation, praise, orgasm denial, temp play? (cold ass rings, it’s cold outside ig), mild exhibitionism? (there’s nobody there but yall are fucking outside lol)

based off of a lyric from this song;

-

1 am gas station snack runs have become a pretty regular routine for you, the reason being so you’d hopefully get the chance to see the hot biker girl you’d seen the first time you went. you always did, she’d always pull into the parking lot when you were finishing checking out, diverting your attention from the cashier asking if you needed a receipt or not while you instead decided to check out something- someone- much more intriguing. there she was, as per usual. black denim clad legs and a leather jacket that made your head reel, removing her helmet with effortless grace that let her now helmet disheveled hair cascade over her shoulders.

the sound of the cashier clearing their throat snapped you out of your shameless staring.

“do you need a receipt or not?” the bored voice asked you dryly

“uh- no. thanks” you respond a little embarassed at having been so lost in your head while you stared at the girl outside. you grabbed your things and made your way to the door to leave, the cool night air immediately brushing over you skin causing you to shiver. you were starting to walk past the girl to go back in the direction of your house when you heard an unfamiliar voice speak to you.

“so when are you actually going to talk to me instead of ogling me from afar like a creep and i pretend i don’t notice?”

shit

“w-what?” you asked, stuttering in disbelief now turning to look at the source of the voice- it was her. of course it was. could your luck get any worse?

she crossed her arms over her chest and looked at you with a raised eyebrow. amusement? written all over her face. “you heard me” she said simply, a small smirk ok her lips now.

“i- i’m sorry for staring at you and making you uncomfortable.” you responded, white hot shame flowing through your veins while you apologized to her and turned around again to walk back home, but a hand wrapping around your wrist stopped your motions.

“i never said i was uncomfortable, you know. it’s not everyday when it’s a girl checking you out instead of some creepy old man” she was laughing a bit when she said that, amusement not made clear upon seeing your embarrassed response to her presence and her questioning.

“how about we start over, i’m ning yizhuo. you are?” she held her hand out for you to shake, you did after a moments hesitation. her skin was soft.

“y/n y/l/n.” you spoke shyly when you met her intimidating gaze.

“y/n, huh? well, how would you like to take a ride with me?” she asked reaching to pull a spare helmet from her bag and holding it out to you expectantly.

this couldn’t be happening right now

“i’d love to!” you answered all too quickly taking the helmet from her hands, holding it to close to your frame.

“great, hop on.” her tone was so husky and sultry, the invite hanging in the air while she got back onto her bike, legs straddling both sides of it while her feet were planted to the cement. oh how you wished you could be a bike right now. you blink back your thoughts and carefully get on behind her, trying not to touch her at all. she smelled so good, like strawberries.

a silence hung in the air for a few moments while you both slipped on your helmets.

“you better put your arms around me unless you wanna wipeout in the road” she warned you, you hesitated again before doing as she said feeling your face grow hot under your helmet. she drove out of the parking lot at a reasonable speed, you felt okay with the loose grip you had around her waist.. until she unexpectedly sped up, causing you to yelp in surprise and the grip your arms had on her became a lot tighter. she definitely did that on purpose.

something about riding with her was so exhilarating, the speed made it feel as though the world was dissipating into the background of the night before your very eyes. you felt a lot more comfortable the longer you rode, and the extreme tight grip you had on her loosened up a bit. you lost track of how long you were going for until she pulled into a seemingly abandoned lot and came to a stop. you both got off the bike and removed your helmets.

“where are we?” you asked her.

“my favorite spot, you can see the stars so clearly here. i’ve always wanted to bring someone to see it with me, and i’m very glad it got to be someone as pretty as you.” she said with a whisper of a smirk playing at her lips.

you could feel it was weird how you were just silently gawking at her, but who could blame you? that disheveled hair and ever so slightly smug face drove you insane.

“you still with me?” she asked playfully, pointing out your lack of response to her comment

“uh- yeah. yeah- im still here” you struggled out, trying to snap yourself out of the trance you were in staring at her.

the skin of her hand making contact with your cheek sent shockwaves through your body, the contrast of the softness and the rough callouses that littered them was a sensation you knew you could get addicted to.

“you’re always staring at me like i don’t know exactly what’s going on in that pretty little head of yours” her voice was smooth and sultry while she spoke ever so quietly to you, despite the absence of people present.

“..what do you mean?” you whispered back, despite knowing damn well exactly what she was referring to.

“oh don’t act clueless on me now, i’ve felt you eyefucking me every time i was at the gas station, or even when we were riding, and even now. if you want me all you need to do is say it” she challenged, leaning closer and closer to you with each word.

“i.. i want you.” you whispered.

she swiftly pinned you up against her motorcycle and laughed lightly at that.

“good girl.. see? that wasn’t so hard.” she spoke lowly, face merely centimetres away from yours, her eyes scanned your face like a predator watches its prey, before finally connecting your lips together.

your bones felt as if they melted from her touch, unable to stand on your own when she lifted you up a bit so you were now sat on her bike while you kissed at a feverish pace. her hands gently tracing the skin just under the hem of your shirt, brushing lightly against your waist. the feeling of the cool rings that adorned her fingers on your skin sent your head reeling.

“can i take this off?” she asked, lightly tugging at the hem of your shirt, you nodded, unable to respond as you felt her lift your top off.

“god, so pretty” she mumbled to herself, placing a soft kiss to the swell of your breasts. soft pleasured sighs falling from between your lips at the feeling of her gentle touch on your skin as you felt her lips move lower, taking a nipple into her mouth and sucking lightly, pinching the other between her fingers. your back arched into her touch, sighs now turning into moans. the way you fell apart from the simplest of touches fueling her ego evidently.

“mm such a good girl for me, wanna ruin you” she spoke lowly, peering up at you through hooded eyes. you could do nothing but moan in response to her, while her hands made quick work of roughly tugging your pants off. the cold air on your skin in contrast of the heat she was causing in your body made you feel like you were losing your mind.

“wanna eat this pretty pussy.. gonna let me?” she asked while placing gentle kisses and bites along your inner thighs, marking you up just for her.

“please-“ you whined, trying to buck your hips closer to her mouth which made her laugh breathlessly.

“so needy..” she mumbled, kissing your pussy over your panties before moving them to the side and out of her way. she hummed, satisfied at the wetness of you, the way your juices glistened faintly in the moonlight. all because of her. her fingers spread your lips apart while she licked a long stripe along your dripping hole, fighting back a smirk at the sound of your loud moan and how your body instinctively tried to move away from her but having no where to go. she hummed contentedly into your pussy, satisfied with how you tasted.

her lips wrapped around your clit, sucking it harshly. you felt almost embarrassed by how wet you were for her, dripping all over the leather seat of her bike making quite a mess for her. 1 of her hands laid on your thigh to hold you down and spread your legs apart for her while she buried her head between your thighs, the cool metal of her rings digging into your flesh. she lapped you up like you were the only food source left on earth, drinking in any drop of essence you gave her while she gingerly slipped a finger inside of your needy hole, instead of having it clenching around nothing it now clenched onto her finger.

“fuck, look at you sucking me right in” she groaned, releasing your clit from her mouth causing you to whine at the loss of contact. “is my pretty girl gonna cum on my fingers?” she asked in that cocky, teasing voice you were becoming obsessed with.

“please- wanna cum-“ you whined desperately, trying to convince her to fuck you with her fingers at a faster pace. you only whined in dissatisfaction when you felt her finger slide out of you while she laid a harsh slap to your clit that made you scream.

“not yet, not until i tell you that you can cum. understand?” she asked sternly.

“yes- i understand.. just please- please fuck me” you moaned like a needy bitch. to be fair, you were.

“good girl” she returned her finger back to its place, adding another in while she fucked your hole roughly, eyes glued to how your pussy would suck them in more and more with each thrust she made. she toyed around with the pacing a bit, knowing how close you were teetering over the edge of your orgasm. you were desperate for it, bucking your hips in attempt to make her make you cum, but she made it obvious that she was the 1 in control here, denying you of your orgasm over and over again. she kissed your clit and peered up at you again.

“you wanna cum?” she asked you, and you nodded desperately in response.

“no. beg. use your words. do you want to cum?” she asked you sternly

“yes! please yes i want to cum- please let me cum!” you pleaded with her desperately, and that smug smirk broke out across her face at your desperate pleas.

“cum for me, cum all over my fingers” she whispered, before sucking harshly on your clit again, and you did just that, cumming so hard you swore you were seeing stars.. but not those that were in the sky. she helped you ride out that orgasm as long as she could, before finally coming to a stop and carefully slipping her fingers out of your dripping hole, happily sucking the cum off of them with no hesitation.

“you okay?” she asked coming up from between your thighs to look at your face close up, cradling it gently in her hands as she assessed your current state.

“yeah.. i’m okay” you said, breathing heavily when you finally felt yourself coming back to reality, her thumbs gently brushing over the skin on your cheeks

“did so good for me, looked so pretty cumming on my hand” she praised you while gently comforting you, grabbing a clean old tee from her bag to wipe your skin and the seat clean of your cum, laying a gentle kiss to your lips.

“you should ride with me more often” she suggested, sending you a more playful smile.

“yeah.. i should” you said, imagining something like this happening again if you did.

-

not edited, if there’s any spelling mistakes etc lmk!

[appleblueberry-pie]

WHAT WOULD YOU DO?

You and Suguru are roomates in this.

He hates this side of you. He hates everything about this side of you. If there was some form of higher power, he's begging them to tell him why, why out of everything he had to go through in his painful life, did he have to deal with this? All he's ever wanted was to be yours. He wants to be yours and he wants you to feel the same way for him, and he thought he was so fucking close.

You two sleep in the same house, you both do domestic chores together and he felt like you two were really beginning to bond after an entire year of living under the same roof. All of those years of stalking your everyday life after work, finding out your morning and night routines, memorizing your habits and hobbies, all of this just for you to give your full attention to a male human that knew nothing of your existence?

He can't say it out loud or his heart will stop, but you say that you love him. But he knows that look in your eyes. He's been giving it to you for years. You don't love him. You have a borderline unhealthy obsession with this animal. Every inch of his body is lit on fire whenever you mention him, knowing that he will never be able to have a chance due to your deranged fantasies of another he doesn't even consider to be anywhere near worthy enough for you to even lay your beautiful eyes on.

Why can't you see he's so much better?

He can't even distract himself on his phone right now. As much as he wants to block out your useless blabbing about him, he can't go two minutes without hearing your voice in general. It's an endless painful cycle.

As you're making dinner, cutting the potatoes in bite-sized pieces, Suguru wraps his arms around your midsection and peeks over your shoulder at the cutting board. Maybe he can distract you. "I can take over if you're tired," The vibrations from his chest reach your back and you hum, lost in thought. "No....I need to perfect this meat pie." His frown only deepens at what it implies and your smile only grows.

"Can you taste test this when it's done? I need about fifteen more minutes to-"

"Y/n, he doesn't even know you."

Your smile completely vanishes at his words and he lets go when you turn around, clenching the kitchen knife in your hand tighter. "Suguru, you know what this means to me. I know what he wants. And if I have to-"

"Don't. Just don't finish that sentence. Please." He slowly takes the knife from your hands and sets it on the counter behind you, stepping closer to you, looking deep into your eyes, hoping to find you in there somewhere. Because you've been drifting away from him for far too long.

"Y/n," His cold finger brushes so softly against the fat of your cheek and you're clearly jittery at the sensitive topic he just brough up. "You have to let him go." You already started shaking your head, knowing he was going to spew some nonsense. You turn your head to the pre-heated oven and he brings your face back to look at his own.

"Look at how you're acting. You haven't met this guy not even one time and you're attempting to perfect your cooking for him as if he would even be willing to try it from a stranger who's obsessed with him. He wouldn't like it. You wouldn't like it."

"I know how to act normal." You defend yourself, but it sounds more like you're attempting to convince yourself that you have a possibility with this man. Suguru begins to get annoyed at your defiance and doesn't know whether to just try and shove it into your head or try the softer way. Either way, you have to stop going after him. Or at least see that he's a better option.

"I know how to be normal. I've been practicing what I've been saying to him for a while now, and I'm pretty sure I got it down now. A-and I've been sending him gifts and letters and stuff and he hasn't reported me or anything. He never posted anything on any of his socials about the stuff I sent, so I think he thinks it's fine. His friends haven't said anything on their accounts either, so I think it's okay for me to keep trying. I'm close enough to his type of girl and I know the stuff he likes to do for fun, and what-"

The amount of energy and restraint he had to not just kill everyone within a 3 mile radius is something he didn't know he was capable of having in the first place. You reminded him too much of himself. Too much of how he already is with you. And if you were anywhere near like how he is with you and it's all directed towards that thing, he'd be sure to top your crazy pretty soon. And if he was anywhere near your type of crazy, he'd be in the right mind to erase that fool off of the face of the earth to get you to finally pay attention to him.

He deserves everything that animal has. And it's you. He has you wrapped around his finger and he doesn't know and it makes Suguru's blood boil with every second he acknowledges it. He will be dealt with accordingly.

[hennyjwrites]

Rio trapping his wife again

Y’all already had 5 kids. All boys. You gave up a long time ago on having a little girl but Rio hadn’t. Your youngest was almost a year old and for some reason Rio thought that gave him the green light to have another.

“Christopher im gonna punch you if you don’t leave me alone.” You mumbled as he kissed on your neck. He had told you earlier that night. that he wanted to try for another baby. Your sons were spending the night with his grandma upon her request and that gave Rio the perfect opportunity.

“Gimme just one more.” He begged, sucking slightly on your sweet spot.

You tried to resist him, you really did. But a few more begs, traveling fingers, and a few more kisses, ended up with you fucking him. All night.

He was so good that by the end of the night, he had you begging for him to give you another baby.

That would end up being his routine. After you gave him the green light, He made sure to cum in at least once a day, to ensure he would get his daddy’s girl

A few months later, after getting sick every morning for over a week, and become nauseous to every smell, you went to the doctor. Even though you recognized the symptoms, surprise surprise! Your pregnant.

Of course Rio took care of you your entire pregnancy. Held your hair if you sick, massaged your feet, talked to the baby everyday. Only it wasn’t just him, it was all your sons too. They cared for you and their youngest sibling just like Rio did.

Rio felt this pregnancy was different. He just knew that you were having a baby girl. And boy was he right and wrong at the same time.

By the time you were 5 months you were as large as a house. You brought it up at your doctors appointment and weren’t you surprised.

“There’s baby number 1.” The doctor said showing you where the first baby sat. “And there’s baby number 2.” She moved the mouse over a little bit more. “And then there’s baby number 3!”

Both yours and Rios mouths dropped when she announced you were having triplets. The doctor asked did you want to know the genders and you and Rio both said yes.

“It seems that your having 3 identical girls!” Congratulations mom and dad!” The doctor cheered before giving you some privacy.

Rio stood and gave you the biggest hug and kiss in the world, with his eyes filled with tears. “You heard that beautiful? Three little girls.” He held you for what seemed like eternity in joy.

When you got home and announced it to your sons, the amount of joy that was through the house could blow the roof off. All throughout your pregnancy they all helped you pick out clothes, shoes, and toys all for their little sisters

3 months later and you went into early labor. Your labor lasted for 32 hours, with you screaming, crying, and even staying calm at some point. When you were finally able to push it took around 30 minutes to get each baby out.

Rio stood next to the bed holding his first daughter, on his right and his second daughter in his left. You held your third daughter from the bed. They looked more like you than him. They had the perfect shade of brown with your beautiful eyes, but they took his nose. Each girl was born with a head full of hair.

He couldn’t wait until they started to develop into their own person. He wanted to see would they take after you or him. It was his favorite parts of watching his babies grow up.

“Thank you.” Rio whispered. “You gave me 3 more beautiful kids. I love you more than you’ll ever know baby.” He leaned down and kissed your lips. When he pulled back he bit his lip. “2 more and we’re done.” He laughed, hoping you would agree.

You scoffed, before looking at your babies. “These 3 are going to run you down, not even including the other 5. your not gonna want anymore.”

You both laughed and waited for your sons to come and meet their new baby sisters.

[therabbitthatpostthings]

(Part 1) (Part 2) Final part to the Giyuu's Secret Family AU story thingy. This has single handily made me attached to the OC even though I still won't give her a name. Might draw her one day.... She/Her Pronouns.

Shinobu and Mitsuri seemed enraptured in Lady Tomioka’s tales of her friendship with Giyuu. The man she described was different from the one they had come to know. Telling these stories also helped calm her down and let Shinobu slip out to send word to the Master of her return. It was strange that the thought of love was so unbelievable but, here (Y/N) is, a blushing mess while just thinking of her husband.

“How cute..” Shinobu thought.

(Y/N) didn’t seem to mind, the dark and brooding Giyuu had disappeared a long time ago and now was her loving husband and father to their son. And Giyuu loved his son and wife so much. They both came from less than happy backgrounds. No village or home to return to or at least that would welcome them. Their families were destroyed and they hoped to forever be the loving parents for Hiroshi. That’s what (Y/N) loved most about Giyuu, he was hopeful. Hope was something she lost long ago but, if Giyuu believed in it, then she would believe in him.

Even when things got troublesome Giyuu still had hope and looked out for her. On one of her more troublesome missions, (Y/N) had believed the threat was over and she could sleep the night away. She fought valiantly and the village rewarded her for it. To her surprise she is awoken in the wee hours by a large crash. Just outside her room was Giyuu fighting a demon he chased from his location. Fighting with injuries and reopening wounds slowed her down but she managed to help kill the beast. She could barely stand from then on and the days following Giyuu would carry her back home, stopping at a Wisteria House along the way.

“You don’t have to take care of me Tomioka.” She said quietly as he rebandaged her leg.

“You say that all the time.” He stated. 

“I just… I don’t want to be a burden.” She replied.

“You aren’t.”

His tone had a slight tinge of annoyance. Hesitantly (Y/N) spoke again, “I don’t understand why you would care for me this much.”

“You ask me ‘why’ a lot. I care about you, isn’t that enough?” 

“I haven't done anything remarkable to be cared about by you. Or anyone for that matter.” (Y/N)’s voice trailed off. She clutched the edge of her robe, not trying to maintain eye contact.

“You are alive (L/N), that’s all I need.”

“What..”

“I don’t need you to do grand gestures, you talking to me everyday is enough.”

(Y/N) was at a loss for words. She couldn’t hide her blush as Giyuu finished and looked her in the eye. She quickly turned her head to the side. Her heart was racing and emotions washed over her like a waterfall.

“I like having you around.” He said softly.

This only made her blush deeper. She wasn’t even sure of her own feelings when she blurted out, “I-I would stay by your side if you asked me to! You're one of my only friends, Tomioka, so I won’t be a burden anymore! I promise!”

(Y/N) continued on with her stuttering. Giyuu felt a slight twinge in his chest. Looking at her, he could only think of one thing.

Burden…

A feeling he knew all too well. That wasn’t (Y/N) though. She could never be a burden to him. She made time to talk with him. Go out to dinner. They trained together, fought together. She made him feel lighter. (Y/N) was no burden. She was an integral part of him, one he couldn’t lose. Not again.

“-I know I can’t do much but I’ve already made it to Hinoe! I can get better, I can-”

Giyuu gently and slowly pulled (Y/N) in for a hug. He was somewhat awkward at it but it felt too good to hold her close to him. “Would you really stay by my side if I asked?”

“Y-Yes, of course.”

“Then stay by me, please. Stay alive (Y/N). That’s all I want.”

“I will,” She smiled to herself hugging him back. “I’ll stay by you Giyuu.”

(Y/N) remembered how they stayed up talking until they both fell asleep. How that became a routine and she practically lived at Giyuu’s estate. Giyuu’s not an openly affectionate person so it wasn’t a challenge to keep the relationship a secret. Despite (Y/N) only becoming stronger she was still not yet a Hashira so the thought of her dating one never crossed anyone’s mind (aside Masato). She giggled to herself as her face flushed again.

“Are you okay (Y/N)?” Mitsuri asked.

“I’m fine! I was just thinking of how we were years ago. I was so shy around Giyuu, it’s embarrassing!” (Y/N) laughed.

Mitsuri couldn’t help but be endeared to (Y/N). “Now I have to know! How did he propose?” Shinobu popped back into the room, intrigued to know as well. (Y/N) face heated up again, remembering the night.

It wasn’t very often that Giyuu and (Y/N)’s days off crossed with each other but today was a lucky day. Looking back on it, she suspected he asked the Master for the day off. (Y/N) had been suspicious over the last couple days, starting with her Master being a lot happier these days. Actually Giyuu seemed happier too. Instead of staying in like normal, he suggested going out. After a good breakfast, the two left to walk around town and shop. It was a very calm day. It almost felt normal. As the day shifted to the evening they ate a hearty dinner and slowly made their way back to Giyuu’s estate. The sun was slowly starting to set as Giyuu turned to a clearing in the trees.

“What are you doing?”

“I think we should go this way, it’s a longer way back.”

(Y/N) smiled and took Giyuu’s hand, “Why the sudden change?”

“Just thought it would be nice.” He said as you two stepped off onto the clearing.

“Giyuu if I didn’t know any better, I’d say you were trying to lead me somewhere.” (Y/N) teased. A small light peaked through the clearing and you both came upon a clearing. There was a garden surrounded by two small ponds and wisteria trees overlooking them both. It was a gorgeous sight to see, especially with the full moon illuminating the area. Giyuu lead (Y/N) across the path to the large gazebo on the far side of the garden.

“Did you set all this up? It’s beautiful,” (Y/N) smiled.

Giyuu’s face was redder than it’s ever been before. He couldn’t look her in the eye as he took both her hands in his. He stood there in an embarrassed silence, grateful (Y/N) wasn’t rushing him.

“(Y/N),” He started slowly, “If I asked, would you stay by me…always?”

“My answer never changed, Giyuu. I’d follow you anywhere.”

Giyuu felt a weight lift off his shoulders. He finally looked up to see (Y/N)'s smiling face. She’s beautiful…

“I love you. The chances of us dying grow greater every day and I know one day I may go somewhere you cannot follow but, I’d rather come to that day knowing I had you with me. I feel happy around you, like I was given life again. I want to give that happiness to you. I want to marry you.”

(Y/N) was stunned. It was like the world stopped and they were the only ones that were alive still. Giyuu started to worry as (Y/N) hadn’t replied. She started crying!

“I-I understand if you don’t want to, it’s fine. I just wanted to be with you- we don’t have to-“

“Giyuu! Of course I’ll marry you!” (Y/N) pulled him into a kiss. Giyuu recovered from the shock and kissed back. They pulled away and he rested his forehead against hers.

“I don’t think I believed in love until I met you.” (Y/N) smiled.

“I don’t think I was really living until I met you. I promise to always make you happy.”

—

“I think because we knew this life would eventually take us both that we should cherish what we have right now. We’re alive right now, let’s be happy and in love too. It’s a selfish wish, especially considering Hiroshi but, I can’t regret my choices now. I can only be better from here on out.”

“That was so beautiful!” Mitsuri cheered in full tears. “I’m so happy you and Tomioka found each other!”

“Thank you, I’m happy I met him.” (Y/N) smiled.

“I’ll go get you something to drink,” Shinobu excused herself. She barely made it two steps out the door before being bombarded by a frantic Tomioka at the door.

“Where is she?! Where is (Y/N)!?” Giyuu’s eyes darted around looking for his wife. Uzui and Sanemi were close behind with bags in hand. 

“She’s stable. She’s talking to Mitsuri right now, calm down. You’ll worry her if she sees you so scared.” Shinobu said calmly. Giyuu tried to slow his breathing but could barely muster the confidence. He quickly moved past Shinobu into the room. (Y/N) and Mitsuri both jumped in their seats at the sound of the door slamming open. All composure left Giyuu as soon as he saw his bandaged wife. Giyuu pulled her into a tight hug.

“Giyuu, I-I didn’t send for you yet.” She said turning all her worry to her husband.

“The news came from Master.” He finally let go of the breath he was holding in. “I was so worried (Y/N).”

“I didn’t mean to scare you dear.” She smiled, pulling him in for a kiss. Giyuu settled on the bed, refusing to leave or even let go of (Y/N). A stark shift from the man that didn’t even want anyone to see his wife. You would think Giyuu was the one injured with the way she suddenly doted on him. The Hashira stood idly by as (Y/N) tended to her very worried husband. The same husband that hardly showed any affection last they all met was now clinging to her side. Both of them noticeably wearing their wedding bands as well.

“We brought food!” Uzui declared. “We were eating when we got the news. We might have left Muichiro behind.”

Sanemi and Uzui soon left after that, along with Mitsuri. They each waved their goodbyes to (Y/N) and she thanked them again. To Giyuu’s disapproval Shinobu informed them (Y/N) would stay the night. Regardless of his protess, (Y/N) agreed. “I couldn’t let Hiroshi see me like this.”

“I’ll tell Master Yamato that Hiroshi is staying the night then.” Giyuu stated, earning a look from (Y/N). “I’m not leaving you.”

“Giyuu I am fine.” (Y/N) reassured him.

With Hashira gone Giyuu spoke in a softer tone. “I know, but I want to stay with you.”

Knowing she couldn’t argue, (Y/N) gave in. Shinobu came back soon after to lend (Y/N) clothes. The Butterfly girls helped her to the bath while Giyuu stayed, still worried.

“It’s so strange seeing you affectionate Tomioka.” Shinobu smiled, handing him a set of sleeping clothes.

“Are you teasing me?”

“No. I just wanted to say, I’m happy for you. You and your family.”

[beyondthesefourwalls]

Remember You Even When I Don't (5)

Summary: A training accident, the doctor had told him. A nasty one that led him here, laying in a hospital bed with a splitting headache and an inability to remember the woman sitting beside him. What he did know, though, was that you were the most beautiful woman he had ever seen, and you felt important to him. That, as it turns out, would become an understatement.

Words: 5.4K

Pairing: Bradley Bradshaw/Reader (no use of y/n, so can be read as unnamed oc)

Warnings: angst, hospitals, memory loss, language, eventual smut

Notes: The response for this continues to blow me away. Thank you all so much! Hearing your thoughts about these two makes me so happy and is so encouraging to write a little bit faster. Please continue to comment and reblog, and my inbox is always open! I love to talk about these two :)

This was inspired by a one shot by the lovely @roosterforme and would not exist without her assistance. If you haven't read any of her stuff, please check out her masterlist - you won't be disappointed! All of the thanks to her and @mak-32 for being the best cheerleaders and friends I could ask for!

Buckle in, folks!

-----

He spends that first night tossing and turning, fighting to find sleep. It’s hard for him to be down the hall, knowing you were so close, yet so far out of his reach. In only a few days, he had gotten used to falling asleep and waking up with you in the chair beside his bed. The next morning, you somehow look more tired now than you had the whole time he was in the hospital, and he was sure that he was the same. 

Being here was different than he anticipated. Part of him expected to walk into this house and have every memory he’d lost rush back to him in technicolor. He was disappointed when that didn’t happen, and he thinks that even if you won’t say it, you are, too. 

He didn’t remember anything, but his instincts were there. He knew which drawer held the utensils and which cabinet housed plates and bowls and which one had coffee cups. He knew where the two of you kept Florry’s food and that her treats were kept in one of the drawers in the coffee table. It was muscle memory, he supposed. 

But his brain tickled sometimes, like it wanted to remember something but couldn’t. He often felt that frustrating sensation of something being right there on the tip of his tongue, but he’s unable to produce exactly what it is. 

He dreams every night. His subconscious creates scenes of flying and crashing ocean waves, of snow covered streets and twinkle lights. He swears your laughter echoes in his ears when he rouses to consciousness. 

He doesn’t know if they’re memories, or if they’re figments brought on by the yearning he feels toward you the longer he’s around you. Either way, they’re never quite clear enough for him to even ask you about them. But he sneaks into your office one night and swipes a pen and a pad of sticky notes and takes to writing down all the details he can recall when he wakes up. 

Over the first few days of being home, the two of you get into a tentative routine. You somehow wake before he does, and there’s coffee waiting for him when he makes his way downstairs. You’re not much of a breakfast person, but you make him eggs and bacon and toast or whatever he’s in the mood for, even if he insists you don’t have to. You take him to his follow up appointments or evaluations, which takes up his time until the early afternoon. The two of you have taken to grabbing lunch while you’re out everyday, before going back to the home you share and making yourselves busy until dinner.

He finds himself wanting to touch you more. There were no more forehead kisses, but his knee will knock against yours sometimes when the two of you are eating. He always holds the door open for you whenever you two are out, and sometimes you’ll brush against him just so when you’re passing by. When the two of you are walking somewhere, his fingers twitch to hold onto yours. He’s taken to placing his hand near your lower back, not quite touching you, but close enough where he can feel your body heat. 

You like to curl up in the corner of your sectional couch, and he feels like you’re a million miles away when he sits on the other end. 

Getting to know you again is a whirlwind of feelings he doesn’t understand. You’re kind, and beautiful, and you make him laugh. He has near constant butterflies in his stomach whenever you’re around. 

He knows himself well enough to know that he’s developed feelings for you, and the concept makes his head hurt, knowing this isn’t the first time but not remembering it. He doesn’t mention it to you, because he doesn’t know if it would make things better or worse. 

He wants to ask you questions about the two of you, too. You told him how you met, but he wants to know what your first date was like. He wants to know who said I love you first, though he thinks it was him. He wants to know how he proposed after only 4 months of knowing you and he wants to know why you said yes. 

He wants to know everything, but he can’t bring himself to ask. Part of him is scared of the answers.

He’s seen the way you look at him, sometimes. Like it breaks your heart for him to be there with you, even though he knows how relieved you are for him to be. You don’t say anything to him, but he knows that you’re struggling. You do your best to always keep a smile on your face around him, but it’s your eyes that give you away, combined with this deep instinct he seems to have when it comes to you and your emotions.

After dinner every night, you’ve been finding yourselves sitting out on the back porch. The weather has been getting cooler and watching the sun go down with you has become his favorite part of being home. You avoid anything too heavy, too intimate, but you regale him with different tales from the last few years with your friends and your individual careers, or of you before you knew him, but the light in your eye is dim whenever you finish a tale and there’s no recognition in his. 

He’s worried about you, but he doesn’t know if he has the right to tell you that. There’s something of a tension building in the air, and he can’t figure out how to cut through it just yet.  

But he enjoys getting to know you again, and he hangs onto your every word. He loves every single moment the two of you have together and craves more of them. Even the most mundane of things, like when he went with you to the grocery store of all places. Phoenix had loaded their kitchen with essentials, but there was a specific recipe you were wanting to make that you swore he would love but that you needed a few things for. You looked surprised when he had asked if he could go with you, but pleased at the same time. 

He pushed the cart as you checked things off your list and god, he loved watching you. You were looking up and down the aisle you were standing in, seemingly a little puzzled, and he was completely enraptured. 

“I can never remember where the dates are,” you muttered, and he thinks it might have been only to yourself, but he couldn’t help but smirk a little bit. 

“On a calendar?” 

You shot him a look, looking incredulous but amused, and smacked him lightly on the arm with the list you were carrying. The touch sent a shot of electricity through him and he laughed, feeling warm. “Ow.” 

“Okay, you comedian,” you rolled your eyes playfully, “I was going to make you dessert, but maybe I won’t now,” 

“No, come on,” he laughed, pushing the cart forward, nodding his head to the side, “They’re in the next aisle over,” 

You stop walking, and after a second, Bradley does too, realizing what he just said. He turns to you and you’re looking at him with wide, hopeful eyes. He thinks he might see a little bit of pride in them, too. And it’s so silly, getting choked up by instinctively remembering where something is in a grocery store he can never remember being in, but he feels a lump in his throat anyway. He coughs, trying to dislodge the emotion. You don’t say a word, maybe sensing the moment that he’s having, but you squeeze his arm when you pass by him on your way to the aisle he indicated. After a moment, he follows behind you. 

He thinks he would follow you anywhere. 

————

It’s a Friday and he's been home for eight days now. He has a headache when he wakes up that morning, and he can’t remember anything notable from the previous night's dream to write down in his notebook. Part of him wants to go back to sleep and try again, but he pushes himself out of bed anyway. 

Like she had been the last few days, Florry is laying at the guest room door when he opens it. She looks up and meows at him, nuzzling into his hand when he squats down to scratch her head for a moment before she gets up and struts away. He snorts at her, amused at how as soon as she gets what she wants, she moves on to something else. 

He makes his way downstairs slowly, feeling like a drum is pounded right in his ear with every step. There’s a distinct spice in the air as he walks toward the kitchen, and it takes a few sniffs before he places it. 

“Pumpkin?” 

To his surprise, you gasp, and the knife you were holding slips from your grasp and clatters to the granite countertop. You jumped back from it, but your wide eyes were looking straight at him. 

“What did you just call me?”

“What?” 

“You said - you called me Pumpkin.” 

This was one of those significant moments that he was missing. Bradley suddenly felt incredibly awkward, and a little ashamed. A flush crept up his neck to warm his cheeks in the worst way. 

“I uh - I was talking about the smell.”

Watching your face fall cuts him worse than the knife you had been holding ever could. For a brief moment, he saw raw devastation completely overcome you. He starts to say your name, but you cut him off before he can.

“I’m making pumpkin banana pancakes,” you tell him after a moment. You pick the knife back up to continue cutting up the fruit you had on the cutting board. He wants to ask you what had just happened, but bites the inside of his cheek to stop himself. He’s frustrated that he can’t remember, and the hurt in your eyes was making his head pound harder. He hates that he’s putting you through this. 

The two of you eat breakfast together, but it’s quieter than it normally is. The air was awkward, tense, and it seemed that neither one of you really knew what to say. 

The day had only gotten worse from there. He was late for his doctor's appointment because the two of you had gotten stuck in traffic, and there was little he hated more in life than being late. His headache had only gotten worse, and he hadn’t been cleared to drive or go back to any sort of desk duty yet. To top it all off, the two of you had run into someone you knew during a near silent lunch and he had to awkwardly push himself through the conversation while pretending he did, too ashamed to actually say he had no idea who he was. 

By the time you returned back home, he was in a sour mood, and he really wanted to go back to bed. 

“Do you need anything?” you asked softly, hovering between the kitchen and living room as he settled himself on the couch unceremoniously. 

“No,” he said shortly, pulling a blanket over him. 

You sigh, and he’s irritated with himself for making you feel bad, too. 

“I’m going to go up to my office for a bit then, okay?” he doesn’t respond. When you sigh, he’s irritated with himself even more for making you feel bad, too. “You can come up and get me if you need anything.” 

Bradley tries to nap the afternoon away, but it’s more fitful than restful. He tosses and turns on the couch. Florry jumps on him at one point, waking him from one of his dozes. 

He closes his eyes, trying again to find some sort of sleep, but nothing comes for him. His mind was moving a little too quickly now, and the guilt was setting in. He had been short with you almost all day, and even if he was frustrated, you didn’t deserve that. You were frustrated too, even if you wouldn’t say it. 

Sometimes he wishes you would.

Why the hell did this happen to him after everything else in his life?

His dad, and then his mom, and Mav pulling his papers. He still hasn’t brought himself to reach out to the man he had apparently reconciled with, but you’ve mentioned how he’s asked after him whenever the two of you speak, as had the rest of the crew. It’s frustrating, suddenly having all these people in his life who he views as family, only to have no recollection of who they are. Seeing himself in all of these pictures that are throughout the house constantly boggles his mind. He hates being so confused all the time. 

He hates that he can’t remember you, and that you spend all of your days trying to be strong for him. 

He groans, running a hand roughly over his face. After another 45 minutes of staring at the ceiling fan spin, he throws the blanket off of his legs and forces himself up. He couldn’t do much, but he could at least apologize. 

He drags himself up the stairs slowly, trying to figure out exactly what to say. The door to your office is pulled closed for the first time since he’s come home; he tries not to read into that as you wanting him to stay away. He goes to take a step closer and knock, but your voice through the door stops him. 

“The timing is awful, Jake.”

His eyebrows furrowed together. The only Jake he knew was Hangman, and he hasn’t wrapped his mind completely around the fact that he was apparently one of his best friends now. 

“Bringing a baby into this would make everything so much more complicated. He’s struggling enough as it is. You think suddenly becoming a father would make this all better? The test being negative is for the best.” 

He sucks in a breath, feeling like he just got suckerpunched right in the stomach. He braces himself against the hallway wall with one hand, unsure if he heard you correctly. 

“I’m okay,” you say, and he wishes he could hear both sides of the conversation. He feels like he’s going to pass out. “I promise.” 

There’s another pause, and you let out a small laugh, “I might take you up on that, J.” 

Bradley backs away from the door, his mind going a thousand miles a minute as he tries to process what just happened. 

A baby? You were talking about having a baby. You had mentioned a test. Had you taken it recently? Since he had been home? Why hadn’t you told him, if you had? Was this something that had happened before his accident and just another thing that he forgot? 

He’s your husband. He may not remember it, but he was. Didn’t he have a right to know? 

He stews for a while, and that’s his biggest mistake. He’s scared, and bizarrely disappointed, he’s hurt, but most of all he’s angry. He’s angry that you’re talking to other people about something so personal, but not him. And Hangman, of all people. It festers inside of him, and by the time you come back downstairs, he’s sizzling in it.

“How does chicken and asparagus sound for dinner?” You’re smiling as you walk into the room, but it drops when you see the look in his face. “Are you alright?”

“You thought you were pregnant?”

The color drains from your face, and he knows he has his answer. He stands up from the couch to face you, his thoughts jumbled together, fighting for dominance in his head. You had thought you were pregnant. And you didn’t tell him. 

“How did you know that?” 

“I overheard you on the phone with Hangman,” he practically spits the name, feeling his anger swell even more. “When did you take it?” 

“Bradley-” 

“When did you take the test?” 

You let out a long, shaky breath. You’re twisting your ring around your finger again, and your eyes are starting to glass up, but he forces himself not to focus on any of that. “Yesterday,” you admit softly, “I took it yesterday.” 

He groans, running a hand through his hair. You both had been in this house almost all day yesterday. He had been right here. “Why wouldn’t you tell me? I could have been there with you!”

“Bradley-” 

“Why wouldn’t you tell me that we’d been trying to have kids before I got hurt?” 

“Bradley, I really don’t think we should talk about this right now,” you said, trying to remain as calm as possible, but he was already way past that point. 

“Well I want to talk about it,” he snaps, “Why would you keep this from me?”

“I’m not keeping anything from you!” you say, your voice rising to meet his. “We aren’t trying for a baby, Bradley. It was a scare. That’s all.”

“But you still took a test! And you didn’t tell me!” 

“There was nothing to tell,” you try, but Bradley shakes his head as his anger reaches a boiling point. 

“Not to me, apparently. You told fucking Hangman about it, but not me? Aren’t I the one who is supposed to be your husband?”

“Yeah, Bradley. You are,” you finally snap, your voice raising for the first time, “But how the hell was I supposed to tell you when you don’t even remember who I am?” 

It was a low blow, but Bradley has never been one to back down.

“I’m trying!” he yells, and you startle back at just how loud he is, “I’m trying every single day. You think I don’t want to remember you? Someone I apparently almost had a kid with? Someone who I want to care for and protect even though I have no idea why? I know this sucks for you, but think about what I’m going through here.” 

“You think I’m not thinking about you?” you demand, shaking your head, “You’re all I’ve been thinking about, Bradley!” 

“Am I?,” he asks, and your mouth drops at the words, but he keeps going anyway even though every instinct in him is screaming at him to shut up. “I trust you without being able to remember you, but it’s hard to do that if you keep things from me. I have no idea what the fuck is going on the majority of the time and you’re the only one I have who will tell me things. Or don’t you want me to remember?” 

The words came out harsher than he anticipated. The look on your face made him wish that he could take them back. His anger dissipated as he saw the tears that had been welling up in your eyes finally fall. 

Your name left his lips, but you cut him off before an apology could follow behind.

“Of course I do,” you choked out, a sob catching in your throat. It looks like there’s more you want to say, but after a moment, you just shake your head, your breathing labored. “I think I’m going to go for a walk.”

Those weren’t the words he expected. Alarm bells are ringing loudly in his head, demanding he fix what he’s done here. 

“What?”

“I need some air,” you explain, your voice cracking. His heart ached watching you gather your phone and keys. 

He speaks your name again, pleading and reaching out for you as you step toward the front door. To his surprise, you ripped your arm out of his grasp. “You don’t call me that,” you snapped. Bradley’s eyes widened. He watches as you take a deep breath, steadying yourself. 

“I’ll be back in a little bit,” you promise. You don’t look at him as you grab a pair of shoes from the closet by the front door, slipping them on. You don’t slam the door when you leave, but the sound of it closing still echoes like gunfire to him. 

He sinks back onto the couch, his aching head in his hands, wondering what the hell he had just done.

————

An hour has passed and you still weren’t back yet. Bradley has taken to pacing back and forth through the living room, peeking out of the curtains by the front door. He shouldn’t have let you leave when you were that upset. He shouldn’t have made you that upset to begin with. He was out of line.

When he really thinks about it with a clearer mind, he understands to an extent why you didn’t tell him about taking the test. He was virtually a stranger to you right now. There would have been little point to filling him in right now when it would have just panicked and confused him. He knows, deep down, that if the test would have been positive that you would have told him. But he had been so scared at that moment, overhearing you on the phone like that. And if he really admitted it to himself, he was jealous, too. He wanted to be the one you confided in for all of those things, big or small, certainty or uncertainty. But he had done nothing to really earn that. 

It wasn’t fair that he accused you of not thinking about him, either. It was so clear in everything that the two of you did that you were taking him into consideration. You had stayed with him every single day in the hospital. You had taken an impromptu leave of absence from work and drove him to all of his appointments. You cooked all of his meals for him and made sure he took his medicine on time and were readily available if he needed anything. You did everything you could to make him as comfortable as he could possibly be in this impossibly uncomfortable situation. You had sacrificed everything for him, and he was a jerk to you in response. 

He really, really wants you to come home soon. 

He had gotten his phone back, but he hadn’t brought himself around to touching it yet, knowing it would be full of a whole life that he wasn’t ready to face yet. Would you even answer if he called at this point? 

Maybe he could go look for you instead. 

Right when he’s about to grab his shoes, he sees movement out of the corner of his eye. He heaves a sigh of relief when he sees you climbing the steps to the back porch through the window in the kitchen.

You must have come through the back gate instead. He doesn’t even care if it was because you wanted to avoid running into him immediately, so long as you were safe. 

You don’t unlock the door or move to enter the house. Instead, he watches as you settle into one of the plush chairs you have out there below the window that faces into the yard. Your back is to him now, but he’s breathing easier that you’re in his line of sight; you’re okay. 

He lets you be, for a little while. But after another 20 minutes had passed and the sun started setting without you coming inside, he couldn’t take it anymore. He was vibrating with the need to be near you again, to talk to you and apologize. He didn’t like being on the outs with you like this, and he knew it was mostly his fault. 

Your knees are tucked into your chest and your head leant back, but he could see that your eyes were open. They turned to him when he cracked open the door. 

“Hey,” he said simply. 

“Hey.” Your voice is still thick with the tears you had cried earlier. He swallowed down the lump in his throat, knowing he was the one who caused it. 

“Do you mind if I join you out here?” 

“Sure.” 

He steps out onto the porch, sliding the door shut behind him. You look back out into the orange covering your background as he sinks into the chair next to you. 

“How uh..how was your walk?” 

“It was fine,” you respond, hugging your knees a little bit closer. You go to push a piece of hair behind your ear and your ring glints in the setting sun. 

“I was worried about you,” he whispers, barely loud enough for you to hear him. But you do, turning your head to look at him. For the first time, he can’t quite read the look on your face. He takes a shaky breath, rubbing his palms on his thighs as he tries to figure out his words. “I’m sorry,” he finally says. 

“You have nothing to be sorry for. I shouldn’t have kept something that big from you.” 

He shakes his head, because blaming yourself is the last thing he wants for you. “You were looking out for me,” he says, “I understand that now. You…you would have told me, if the results were different. I know that.” 

You nod, not saying anything, and Bradley sighs out your name again. “It wasn’t fair for me to snap at you like that. To yell at you like that. I-I’m so sorry.” 

“You’re going through a lot right now.”

“Yeah,” he agrees, “but so are you. All of this, me being hurt and not….” he cuts himself off, but by the way you close your eyes and let a tear slip down your cheek, you knew exactly what he was going to say. 

Not remembering us. 

“I’ll never be mad at you for being injured, baby,” you say quietly. The term of endearment takes him by surprise. You were always careful with calling him by his name in an unnecessary effort to make him more comfortable; part of him wondered if you were trying to curb his own guilt. 

“I don’t want to hurt you,” he says back. He desperately wants you to know that. You take a shuddering breath at the words. 

“This isn’t your fault,” you say it like it’s an oath, so much so that he almost believes you. But it was hard to do that when there were tears sliding down your cheeks. 

“Having you here is harder than I thought it would be,” you admitted so quietly that Bradley could barely hear you. “It’s like a part of me is missing, even though you’re right here in front of me. And I know it’s hard for you to not remember anything, and I’m being selfish-“ 

“You aren’t being selfish.”

You chuckle humorlessly, wiping away at your tears. 

“I’m serious,” he says, and his fingers itch to reach for you. “I think you may be the most selfless person I’ve ever met. You’ve done nothing but take care of me the last two weeks, even when I was in the hospital.” 

“I’ll always take care of you,” you promise, “You’re the most important person in the world to me, Bradley.” 

He doesn’t quite know how to respond to that at first, overcome with the emotions that it caused. He thinks that he would do anything for you, too. 

“I want to remember you,” he finds himself saying, and your eyes shoot to him again, startled at the words. He nods. “I’m not-I’m not good at saying how I feel. But I’ve never, ever felt like I do when I’m with you. You give me butterflies. And I have this instinctual urge to protect you and make you happy. Being around you has been the best part of everyday, even if I’m so confused the whole time.” 

You sniffle as more tears fall. 

“You say all those things about me,” he continues, “and how you’ll always take care of me. And I know I would do the same for you. Even now.”

He lets out a shaky breath, ”It’s like I know who you are right here,” he taps his hand against his chest over his heart, and you let out a small sob. He raises his hand to tap his fingers against his forehead, too. “But I think I need your help to remember you here, okay?”

“I can do that,” you hiccup, nodding rapidly. “We can do it together.”

“That sounds nice.” It really, really does. He returns your soft, watery smile, and he revels in how your eyes shine in the moonlight that had appeared, looking at him like he really was something special to you. 

“Can I -” you stop, clearing your throat and shaking your head as if you’re trying to talk yourself out of something. 

“What?” he encourages. 

“Nothing.” 

“No,” he insists, “please. Tell me.” 

“Can I ask you to do something for me?” 

“Yes.” There’s no hesitation in his answer; he wants to do whatever he could for you. 

Your breathing is shaky, and your voice is as small as he had heard it since he’d opened his eyes and had no idea who you were to him. Your eyes are bright with tears and dull with heartache all at the same time, but you’re still so heartbreakingly beautiful to him. 

“You tell me everyday. Multiple times most days, and even when you’re deployed, I don’t think you’ve gone this long without saying it somehow. I’ve been wanting to hear it so bad since I got the call you were hurt, because I knew it would mean that you’re okay, and I know you aren’t okay, but you’re here and that’s all that really matters and I-” 

He whispers your name to stop your rambling, worried about how tightly you were wringing your hands together and how quickly your breaths were coming. “What is it?” 

“Can you just…tell me you love me? Please?” 

Tears spring to his eyes this time, hating himself for putting you in this situation where you ever, ever had to ask him for something like this. The him from three weeks ago would hate the him sitting here right now. Hell, current him hates himself a little bit. He pushes that hatred aside, though, because this is something he can do. You’re going through misery because of him and this is the first request you had of him.

He doesn’t stop himself this time from reaching out for you. He drops to his knees in front of the chair you were curled up in, cupping your face in his hands. You gasp softly through your tears, reaching up and gripping his wrists in your own hands. He likes to think it was because you wanted to hold him there against you. Even with your tears splashing against his skin, it feels so right, touching you like this. 

You were breathing the same air as one another. He wipes a tear away when it hit his skin. He waits until your glassy eyes lock with his own to whisper the words: “I love you.” 

And he knows, in the deepest depths of his soul, even after so little time passing since being reintroduced to you, that it’s true. He feels a peace settle over him that hadn’t been there before; a missing piece slotting into place, even if the puzzle is nowhere near complete. Saying it feels so, so right, and he can’t help but close the distance between the two of you. It’s a gentle touch, but your lips are so soft against his that he leans into it. 

There's electricity burning under his skin. 

Something flickers in his mind, like a light struggling to turn on. A burnt orange dress and a Cinderella reference, cobblestone streets and a latte that tastes better on your lips than in the cup. There’s a word right there, and he struggles for a moment to grasp onto it. But when he does, it’s like he’s seeing in color after being in a black and white movie. 

“Pumpkin,” he breathes against your lips, “I call you Pumpkin.” 

You sob, then, nodding your head. You’re so close that he can feel your nose brushing against his. You kiss him again, the salt of your tears mixing with his. Your hands move from where they had been grasping his wrists to wrap around his body and you let yourself fall into him, slipping from the chair to meet him on the ground. 

When you pull away from his kiss, you bury your face in his neck, still crying softly. He holds you against him tightly. 

“I’m right here,” he says into your hair like a promise, pressing his lips wherever he can reach, “we’ll remember everything together.”

----

Part Six :: Series Masterlist :: Main Masterlist

Notes: I hope you liked this one! Would love to hear any thoughts you may have :)

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[running-with-kn1ves]

What do you think about a yandere male that only turns yandere during the full moon?

Doesn't necessarily have to turn into a werewolf, but every full moon, it brings out the possesiveness and psychotic urges.

Like, I imagine that he's the sweetest and fluffiest and softest bf ever. A gentle giant. Couldn't harm a fly. Then as the full moon gets closer, they start to slowly change. Maybe, they start being more aggressive around others? Idk go crazy 🤣

(Maybe add some pervertedness/nsfw if ur up to it? no pressure ofc)

I really like the idea of yanderes being almost like a different breed of creature, gradually getting worse as each full moon draws near, going practically mental once it finally occurs and nearly mauling their darling.

It's worse if he's a so-called gentle giant-- that gentleness is ripped away, only to leave an empty husk of a man that has the power to crush you. He's normally the sweetest thing, kind to all those that you pass, and acts completely enamored with you-- he's so soft, you almost think that if he weren't his current intimidating size, he would be bullied for his passiveness.

He's not very verbal in expressing clinginess or needs during his stages of normal self, and may hesitate to bring up something he's upset with, whether it be seeing you with someone he finds threatening or if you reject his advances of physical comfort. He's able to tolerate such things in everyday life.

but once the moon's nearly at its routinely wholeness, there's a change in his behavior; he's become... temperamental, irked with every move you make that he doesn't like. Whether you forget to kiss him goodbye in the morning, or you tell him that you're going out for drinks after work with some overly friendly coworkers, he's become agitated and upset, getting jealous that you'd choose them over him.

Once the full moon finally reaches its completeness, getting out of the house will be a struggle within itself. He's not letting you go anywhere-- the emotional manipulation is drawn up to the max, and he can't help but use fake tears or past injustices to keep you with him. He can't help but ramble on how much he loves you-- how its because he loves you so much; he can't take it.

All he wants is for you to kiss him and make it better, to let him keep you suffocatingly close, to pay attention only to him. And if anyone dares get in his way, then he'll make them pay hell.

NSFW under the cut

For our yan boyf its not if, but when he pounces on you. He's so easily prone to getting too handsy with you in public, no matter the company kept near. You've made the mistake of bringing him to a party, and had to make some lame excuse to bring him home early, your boyfriend undoing your pants buttons moments in from the front door.

The deep bitemarks on your shoulders were painful, but there was a certain lull to the way he loved you when he was like this. He always gripped you so tightly, like he was afraid you'd slip away if he didn't keep you close enough. Whether it was an arm wrapped around your waist as he pounded inside you from behind, or two hands gripping your thighs as he kept you bouncing atop of him, he was always leaving bruises, most of which were unintentional.

You're truly lucky his sex drive isn't utterly relentless, though its definitely far higher than you ever expected. Usually, it was averagely persistent, never so much that you felt used. But during these episodes lately, he was consistent-- and insatiable, it seemed. You refused to go out on a date with him during these times, knowing he'd always need to find a place to fuck you midway, too entranced by your sex appeal, and too ticked off by those who decided to stare at you.

But the deeper he gets in taking a hold of you, the more regretful he becomes. He mutters "I'm sorry's" over and over, though keeping his relentless thrusts in play. He has little patience for foreplay, and understands how rough he can be when these episodes occur; he doesn't always remember how much strength he has, leaving him to mumble sorrowful apologies the rough morning after.

[garbinge]

New Year in Jackson

Joel Miller x F!Reader Summary: New Years Eve in Jackson with a grumpy Joel. Warnings: Light angst, grumpy Joel but ends well. A/N: Just a little something for New Years! Happy New Year all <3 Hope to be posting more in 2024! Word Count: 1.5k

TLOU Taglist: @iraot​ @justreblogginfics @drabbles-mc

“It’s stupid.” Joel mumbled as he pulled out the items from the deep freezer. 

“It’s not stupid.” You disagreed with him as you moved behind him. 

“I don’t think it’s stupid.” Ellie said under her breath as she sat on Tommy and Maria’s couch, guitar in hand. 

“See, Ellie doesn’t think it’s stupid.” You pointed toward her and smiled before your head quickly turned to Joel. His face looked less than pleased, his expression had hardened but that was just what he looked like. When he was genuinely angry you could tell the difference, this was more… annoyed. Which you knew your way around pretty well. 

“I was able to grab champagne from the bar.” Tommy’s voice called out, it echoed against the bare walls of the house. 

“Tommy was able to grab champagne!” Your voice was chipper, the complete opposite of Joel. 

“I like champagne.” Ellie’s curious voice was peaking over Tommy’s shoulder to see what exactly he brought in. 

“You’re too young for champagne.” Joel stared down the girl. 

“It’s New Years, Joel. Let the girl have a sip.” Tommy’s grin would have earned him a push if company wasn’t around. 

“I don’t know why we’re botherin’ with this. Days, weeks, years, what’s it matter?” 

You looked up at him, Joel wasn’t exactly happy go lucky everyday but he seemed exceptionally more irritable today. It reminded you of Boston QZ Joel, pre-Jackson Joel. Your eyebrows moved closer together for a minute as you tried to understand what was happening with him but Maria’s voice interrupted your thoughts. 

“It’s something fun. Keeps spirits high. Makes life feel semi-normal.” 

“I don’t know why we gotta keep track of the years.” His voice seemed to be different, softer in the way Joel’s voice could be softer. 

No one answered him, everyone knew it wasn’t really a conversation they could have or an argument they could win with Joel so they just continued talking amongst themselves. 

As they talked you made your way around the round kitchen table and wrapped your arm around Joel’s, your head instinctually fell on his shoulder and you let out a sigh. He took his free hand and brought it up to yours, the one that was wrapped around his. He looked down when he felt the roughness across your knuckles, as quickly as he scanned over the dry and red patches he was scanning your face looking for an explanation. 

“Traded Seth my good working gloves for the string lights at the bar, for the decorations.” Your head tilted to the inside of the living room that had the lights strung across the ceiling. “Didn’t get a chance to grab a better pair from the market before I went out on patrol last night. They got chapped from the ripped up pair I used.” 

You had been here in Jackson just about 3 days but rules were rules. To stay, you had to work. It was the agreement you had come up with Maria and Tommy when Joel and you decided you’d move about 10 miles north where the abandoned farmhouse was. That and you brought in supplies from the farm, sheeps wool, cow milk, chicken eggs and they supplied you with items as well. 

“Seth is a fucking asshole.” Joel was caressing your rough skin with his thumb as he cursed under his breath. “I’ll be sure to get ‘em back for you before we leave.”

Leave. You could tell Joel was eager to get back home, he only came this far to humor you, New Years lined up perfectly with your routine supply drop off, which meant you’d stay a little longer than your normal two days. He’d always be internally counting down until the trek back home but since day 2 came and went the countdown was beginning to become more vocal. 

“What’s up with you today?” You changed the subject. Sure, you knew what was up, but this seemed more than just wanting to go home, this seemed like something specific was bothering him, and while you knew better of Joel to just tell you what was wrong, you still had to ask.

But apparently it wasn’t just you that wanted to change topics. “Hey.” Joel’s voice was startling to the others in the room. 

Ellie froze and looked up, champagne bottle in her right hand and a half-poured glass in her left. “What?” 

“Ain’t you a little young?” 

The smirk on Ellie’s face was enough to tell you the sarcastic comeback was loading. “Didn’t you just say, I don’t know why we gotta keep track of the years.” The last part of her sentence was spoken in her version of Joel’s voice. 

“She’s got you there.” You whispered in hopes that between the smile and the squeeze against his arm he’d back off a little. 

The smallest nod was given from Joel and he broke your embrace to escape into the living room. 

“Save some for midnight.” You pointed at the girl who was grinning as she poured the glass full. 

Leaving Tommy and Maria to be with Ellie, you turned to see Joel sitting with his elbows resting on his knees and his hands running through his hair. It was typical, he had been experiencing panic attacks for years now, it was all the emotion he buried from the last 20 years overflowing out. It wasn’t an awful thing, it meant he started to feel happy again sometimes, which was something you didn’t think you’d ever witness from Joel since meeting him at the Boston QZ. But that also meant the good came with the bad. 

The creaking of the floor in the house that belonged to Tommy and Maria normally would have alerted Joel but he was so deep in his head that he didn’t flinch a muscle. Picking up on his lack of awareness, you slowly approached him, not reaching out to touch him or even let your knee brush against his, you figured the sink of the couch to his left would startle him enough. And it did. 

His hands released from his head and he looked down at the seat and then up at your face before returning to a similar position to what he was in but this time a bit more relaxed. You could tell the motion pulled him out of his thoughts. 

It was silent between you both for a while, the only sounds being in the background of where you were. The sound of Maria walking out the back door, which meant the whining of their guard dog could be heard through the open kitchen window. The sounds of Tommy clinking and clattering as he made a small lunch for Ellie and himself. The murmurs of their chatter filled the silence between Joel and you nicely. Tommy asking Ellie how she likes living on the sheep farm, being away from Jackson. You hoped Joel was listening in, that the confirmation that Ellie loved the farm, loved how empty the sky was, how she had her own room, her own space. 

Listening in to their conversation must’ve taken your attention fully away because the sound of Joel’s voice startled you to jump a little.

“This shit reminds me of her.” 

A deep breath left your mouth, part of it was to let out the startle you felt when the words left his mouth but the other half was understanding the heaviness of his words. You knew it was the only thing he was going to say on the matter, the only explanation he was going to give as to his attitude and behavior. There was never really any conversation about Sarah, let alone mention of her name. It was always one off comments of her. So you just nodded and placed your hand on his knee. 

“You don’t have to do all of this if you can’t. I’ll stay with Tommy and Maria until we get our supplies from them while you and Ellie go back to the house.” 

This made Joel frown and look over to you. “Why wouldn’t Ellie stay with you? She seems excited about all this New Year’s nonsense.” 

“You haven’t heard her these last few minutes.” Your right hand rested on his knee. It was a statement more than a question, you figured he hadn’t heard her. “She’s been raving about the house, the sheep and how she can see the stars, sometimes even planets.” 

Joel’s face had the hint of a smile on it at your words. It made you wish he could have heard them come directly from Ellie because that hint of a smile would have been a full one. 

“I think she came because she knew how much I’d enjoy it. You two have that in common.” Your fingers squeezed around his thigh. 

It got silent between the both of you again, a comfortable one. Just enjoying the calmness of life around you, something that was hard to come by in this new world you lived in. 

“Someone said something about champagne?” Joel was trying his best to be open to the situation, this was his version of going so far as to try and enjoy it. 

The smile on your face was one that grew from the warm feeling filling your heart. 

“Yea, if Ellie didn’t drink it all.”

[dizzyjaden]

❝ I heard a cry. ❞

Kaedehara Kazuha x gn! Reader

♤ Summary: The reader reflects on their losses from the vision hunt decree that is active in Inazuma and meets someone they did not expect.

♤ Warnings: Suicide, death of family members, maternal mortality, depression, isolation, Stab wound, burnt skin, overall disheartening tone, angst

♤ A/N: Take care of yourself today <3 Kazuha loves you

⋆｡°✩

⋆｡°✩

March 15th...

Days always blurred together living rurally off the land. Time passed slowly but life moved quick. There was a certain beauty in the black ink markings scrawled along your calendar. You mark off another day with a brush. Forever the beginning of your daily routine. Check off the previous day you pulled yourself through. Acknowledge that time is still passing, no matter how slow. Then, get your chores done. Everyday is the same.

You have to keep yourself alive. Therefore, you have to keep the animals on your farm alive. You can't help but feel envious of those who live without trying to live, those who are cared for. You debate each morning between rotting in your bed or feeding the chickens because honestly, rotting seems easier than most things as of late.

Trudging down the stairs, you glance over the railing at the dining table made of wood crafted by your father. He was usually stationed there in the mornings when you woke up, preparing breakfast for the two of you. Occasionally, he'd get to work earlier than you would if there was something that needed to be repaired or urgent tasks that needed to be hurried. No matter, he'd always ensure there was a plate of food on the table by the time you came down.

You haven't been greeted by those plates of food in many mornings, by now you feel you should be accustomed to it, but you simply can't help expecting him to be there, or that plated signal of his presence. Rather, You can't help but hope. Of course, neither are there and you are once again served with the reminder that he is not coming back.

Food, you need food.

When your father passed, he didn't go without previously teaching you how to take care of yourself. You didn't grow up spoiled by any means. He had you working the moment you could walk. It's what you attribute to your optimism. There is no way you can give up when he worked so hard to keep you alive.

So with that, you are cracking an egg over a pan heated by the stove in your kitchen. You really don't need much. You find yourself entranced in the feeling of heat that the stove radiates. Inazuma is cold and wet. It's easy to forget you are shivering. You close your eyes, focusing on it as it calms your body. You love the feeling of warmth. It makes you recall the first time you used your pyro vision.

It was an enthralling experience, and you found yourself shocked at how even though the flames emitted from your hands were unpredictable and violent, the heat felt no different than the heat of a sunny day. It was a typical sensation. It always unnerved you how natural the feeling of heat from open fire was, coming from a dangerous source, you expected it to be different. Now, you consider how if your house caught ablaze while you were asleep, it would only be a comfortable sensation until it was too late.

Sometimes, you did hope your house caught on fire. You hoped every single horrific event that happened within these walls became ashes and singed every painful memory from your head.

Catching the scent of smoke, you clench your fists. The ability to produce flames given to you by your vision, you practiced your elemental skills so often you can almost feel it in your palms, the fire, the heat, the smell of smoke, it's all so close to you.

Then when you open your eyes, you realize it isn't close at all. You simply got so lost in thought you burnt your egg. Your eyes widen at the sight of your ruined breakfast. Then, something completely unexpected happens.

Tears roll down your face, but no sob leaves your throat. You discard the egg as you silently cry, the reality of your situation always hurls itself upon you in moments where you almost feel comforted. It was simply too fast, everything happened too fast. And now you are left with an aching heart, and a wasted egg.

You wipe away the inconvenient tears on your cheeks and sigh. Crying does nothing to bring back your parents, or your vision. Sometimes, you wonder if this dread weighing on your back is due to the loss of your vision, or merely grief. Likely both. You wonder if there are people out there who relate, people out there who fought to keep what was bestowed upon them by Celestia. You know your father would have if he had any time to prepare. Instead of receiving word of the vision hunt decree as soon as possible like the city folk did, Shogunate soldiers appeared on your doorstep one day completely out of the blue.

After you and your father had your visions revoked... He changed. You both changed. Your father became depressed, anyone could see that. His ambition and livelihood disappeared. He became unmotivated, cold, and quiet. It was as if taking his vision took a piece of him out, and you suddenly couldn't focus on your own pain anymore, you had to take care of him. You had to make sure the two of you survived, there was just no other choice.

Your efforts made no difference. Eventually, his despair swallowed him and he just could not take it anymore. He gave up. That night, you buried your own father. You buried him right next to the spot on the ground where long ago he buried your mother, who was not strong enough to keep you both alive when she gave birth to you. Now you fight to hold yourself together, and it makes you angry. Everything about it makes you angry.

What you witnessed in your father made you lose hope. The loss of a vision is something he couldn't bounce back from, so why would you be able to? However, you are still here, trying. You know that's worth something.

You have spent too much time this morning reminiscing. You must pull yourself through this day too, just like all the others and all the ones to come. You give up on the idea of breakfast, your appetite is gone.

Back up the stairs to dress yourself, you throw together your outfit and pull on a haori that once belonged to your father. Larger, to bear the cold chill in the air while the season neared winter. Down the stairs once more, and you place the sugegasa you keep by the door upon your head, finally heading out to tend to your chores.

You walk down the steps your father built down the hill your humble home rests on. It is difficult to find joy atop your isolated little mound on the earth, but the birds still chirp and the breeze still blows. The leaves on the trees tightly encasing the pathway down the hill brush your arms. It is serene, and worth maintaining. First, you'll care for the animals, then tend to the agriculture, then you will-

Cough

You stop descending the hill in an instant, and all the muscles in your body stiffen. You slowly turn your head and peer into the trees to your right where the noise was sourced with a wide-eyed gaze. Your farm was a part of no village or community, it was in the middle of nowhere, built by your family. You had only seen maybe two different people who knew your father visit the farm in the last two decades.

The voice sounded male. You rack your brain for absolutely anything you have on hand to defend yourself with. The best choice seemed to be your shoe, but even then you'd have to pack powerful force behind that attack to do any real damage, force you weren't sure if you were capable of. You consider running back to the house.

Cough

He is not visible where you are standing, but he sounds close. You can pinpoint where he is. You're completely aware of which tree he is behind. The one with the widest trunk, hiding him completely from sight. Something holds you in place, keeping you from attacking or fleeing.

He sounds pained.

Quietly, you approach, hoping to catch a glimpse of him from an angle. You walk into the woods, focused on keeping your steps silent. Slowly, he comes into view, as you tip-toe around the tree he is propped against. He has pure white hair, that is what catches your eye first. The next thing is his sword. Lying dormant next to him on the ground. You pause.

He is armed. Even if he is injured you won't win in a fight with him using your shoe and it would be idiotic to attempt that. Caught in a debate with yourself, you remain under the belief he does not know you are there, until he speaks.

"H-Hello?" He murmurs, looking around as if he somehow sensed your presence. As his gaze finally locks on you, you freeze in fear, but you are quick to the realization that he is just as scared, if not more.

You were correct in your suspicions. He is injured. He clutches his side which you can only assume has been wounded. Unless of course, this is all some kind of act to draw you closer.

"I am... No threat." He forces out as if reading your mind. "I'm sorry for intruding. I had to stop running somewhere... Please allow me a few more moments to compose myself... I will be gone by evening, I promise."

You are at a loss for what to do. He's hurt, obviously hurt. There is no more doubt in your mind about it. The strain in his voice is something difficult to fake. Naturally, you wish to help him. However, he mentioned running just now. Running from what, you do not know. But whatever it is might still be chasing him, and that means trouble for you if he remains in the vicinity.

All the same, if he leaves there is absolutely no guarantee he'll survive. There's no telling how bad his wound is and civilization is far away from where you are now. The odds are against him. So, you need to make a decision on whether or not you care now.

You sigh shakily, still tense.

"Who are you running from?" You ask quietly. He appears nervous at your question which instantly raises your guard again as he restates what he already said.

"I will be gone by evening-"

"Who are you running from?!" You demand, cutting him off. He flinches.

"Shogunates." He speaks shakily. "But I swear to you I have done no wrong."

"Then what have you done?" You inquire. "Where are you even coming from? You must've run a long way."

He lowers his head and entrusts you with a sight that genuinely shocks you. He holds up a crudely bandaged hand, loosened around the wrist and practically falling off which allows you to see the deep burns in his skin. That isn't what takes you by surprise, what really leaves you speechless is the glowing anemo vision he holds in between his fingers. Just like that, you understand and sympathize with him in a single moment.

"They are difficult people to lose..." He sighs, dropping his arm back into his lap. "I'm not sure how long I've been running, honestly."

You cannot let the poor man bleed a moment longer, you finally allow your guard to drop and you approach him, he eyes you carefully as you do, still unsure of how you took that information he just gave you.

"I have bandages and disinfectant back in my house." You say, offering your hand when you are in front of him. He stares up at you quietly, then a grateful smile stretches across his cheeks. He pockets his vision, picks up his sword, then takes your hand before you help him off the ground, supporting his weight while you begin to help him up the hill.

"T-Thank you for this." He says, his voice growing more and more hoarse by the moment.

"Save your energy." You advise. "You're clearly exhausted. There is no need to thank me."

He is quiet for the rest of the time it takes the two of you to reach your house. Thankfully, you didn't get far down the steps before you noticed him. When you are inside, you bring him to the living area and help him onto the ground against the wall.

He cranes his head to watch you as you disappear into a different room, then offers you another grateful smile when you return moments later carrying in your arms a bottle of clear liquid, a cloth, and four rolls of bandages.

You kneel in front of him, laying out your supplies. You finally take a closer look at the wound on his side, which seems to be a stab wound from a sword. You sigh.

"So, you are... On the run? How long has that been going on?" You ask curiously, eyes wide as his extravagant upper body attire intimidates you. You decide to start by removing the black and red scarf adorning his neck.

"Well..." The white-haired boy begins. "Recently, actually. I do not make a show with my elemental abilities, so I likely could have flown under the radar when the vision hunt decree struck. However... I won't go into detail, but let's just say I was spotted with my vision. I fled. Ever since then, it's been constantly battling each and every day. I couldn't tell you exactly how many days it's been... They seem to... Blur together."

You gasp at his choice of words, staring at him in stunned silence for a few moments before you move on to unbuckle the strap around his torso.

"I... Completely understand." You nod. "It seems you are struggling to survive."

He shakes his head and wraps a tender hand around your wrist where you were fidgeting with his clothing.

"I am struggling to live..." He corrects you. "There is a difference between surviving and living. I'd rather die than just... Survive."

He removes his hand from your wrist and sighs sadly.

"Losing a vision changes a vision wielder. They lose their ambition and drive. It is... Terrifying."

You hum in agreement as you take off the armor on his shoulder, inspecting it curiously for a brief moment before setting it down. You pull the edges of his kimono out where they are tucked in at his waist and begin untying the knots keeping it nearly folded across his chest.

"I have seen it... And experienced it." You tell him. His eyes widen as he processes your words, while you narrow yours. "Do not feel sorry for me. I have not given up."

"What is your name...?" He asks in a hushed voice. "I'd like to remember it, if that's alright with you."

You are finally able to remove the cloth covering his upper body, you take care to fold it neatly and place it to the side. His entire torso is already covered in scars, some older, some newer. The wound in his side seems to have already stopped bleeding from how long he must have been clutching it, but it is still gruesome.

"(Name)." You supply, loading your solution onto the cloth you brought. "This might sting."

"(Name)..." He whispers. He sucks air in through his teeth when the solution makes contact with his injury.

"And you?" You ask, trying your hardest to be gentle as you brush the small towel over his punctured skin.

"Kaedehara Kazuha." He strains a smile. "Kazuha, If you please."

His name is a pleasant song on your ears, so surprisingly fitting for someone of his kind personality.

"Kazuha... The sound reminds me of autumn." You muse. "When leaves fall."

You begin to wrap bandages around his midsection, he appears to be growing more and more tired. His head tilts lazily to the side and his eyes fall half-lidded.

"When I'm done, you can rest." You tell him. "There's two bedrooms in this house, one is unoccupied. You should stay until you are recovered."

His eyes immediately widen in surprise again.

"No... You've already done so much." He shakes his head. "I will not overstep by taking up your space."

It has been a long time since you've spoken to another human being, you don't really want to voice it to him but you are lonely. Now that you've chosen to believe he is trustworthy, his presence is comforting. You almost want him to stay.

"That's how you will repay me for helping you." You say sharply. "It's not like I want to give you shelter, I just could use some help around the house and farm."

You tie the bandage you wrapped around him off and meet his eyes, he seems to be working your request through his head.

"I see... So you want me to help you, then." He contemplates. "Well... There is no way I can refuse. I shall stay as long as you need me to, then... Thank you."

You hum in satisfaction and then you take his horribly bandaged hand to hold it up on display in front of him.

"Did you do this yourself?" You ask humorously. He smiles bashfully.

"Suppose I'll have to indebt you further, then." You say with an air of confidence, unwrapping the bandages. "How did you get a burn like this?"

"Ah um... Perhaps that's a story for a later date..." He says regrettably. You worry you might have crossed a line with that question, but you shrug it off.

"Alright then... Sorry."

"No worries." He says quickly. "It is only natural to be curious about things like this. I am also curious about you."

You urge him on with a nod, he looks slightly saddened.

"Well... When I sat to rest by that tree you found me at... The wind carried such a tragic sound to my ears. I heard a cry."

You pause and stare at him in surprise.

"A cry? It couldn't have come from here." You say quietly.

He shakes his head.

"I did not actually hear someone crying... Nature has a way of communicating certain things to me that others will not pick up on." He explains. You are positively confused by his statement.

He smiles.

"Forget it. I suppose what I am really trying to ask is... Are you alright?" He asks sympathetically.

You bite your lip, which causes his smile to drop. You practically jump out of your skin when his free hand grazes the side of your face, then moves to brush your hair behind your ear.

"I'm sorry..." He whispers.

A subtle blush spreads across your cheeks at his affection, unused to the feeling of someone else's hand.

"It's um... It's not your fault." You say, turning away from the contact. "I'd rather not talk about it... Let's just get you fixed up."

To your relief, he seems completely okay with remaining quiet as you fix the bandages on his hand. His silence carries through you helping him up the stairs and into your father's abandoned bedroom.

"I feel... Useless right now." He expresses when you assist him down onto the futon. "I hope I am not burdening you. I will do whatever I can to help as soon as I'm capable."

You blink in surprise, having forgotten you made that demand.

"Oh... Yes, of course." You nod. "For now though... You should focus on resting."

He smiles and nods.

"Right... Goodnight then, (name)."

Something about the way your name sounds in someone else's voice never stops taking you by surprise, the idea that you could be perceived by others is so foreign, when you are mostly the only one who knows yourself.

You smile, the pitch black darkness of isolation that once kept you blinded felt more dim than dark now.

"Goodnight, Kazuha."

You believed that in your lonesome void with nothing for sound to bounce off of, any cry you let out would go unheard. But you aren't sure now as you think back to his previous claim. Someone might have been listening after all...

[danikamariewrites]

im so in love with ddlg azriel, i was wondering if i could please request one where reader is fed up with work (me fr) and it stresses her out. she just wants to stay at home and bake and do cute stuff and live life (me fr) and she tells azriel this, she tells him she doesn’t even care ab money she wants a break from her horrible boss. he says he’ll take care of her, he already does, her own money is her own, even though azriel provides literally everything in her life. So they decide she’ll quit and do what pleases her instead. Maybe volunteer at the library in the house of wind with the priestesses. She looks so much more happy and azriels heart swells with love. 🧎‍♀️🧎‍♀️ pls

Done With Work

Azriel x reader

A/n: me too anon 😫 like what do you mean I have to work for the rest of my life?! I’m sick of it now 😭

I see this as the story for first few points in this headcanon

Warnings: ddlg, daddy kink, not proof read sorry lol

Your whole body felt heavy as you dragged yourself up the stairs to Azriel’s office. Without knocking you push the door open, giving your mate a tired look. “Y/n, what’s wrong my love?” You drop your bag and wordlessly walk over to him, plopping yourself on his lap and burying your face in his neck.

Breathing in his scent of night-chilled mist and cedar calmed you. Azriel brought his hand to rub up and down your spine. “I’m so sick of working Az.” You mumble. He adjusts you so your head rests on his chest and he can hear you clearly.

“Did something happen today?” You shrug lazily. “It’s just so draining. And I’ve worked all my life, I just want to do something for myself. I feel like I have no free time. And I’m just done.” Azriel hugged you tighter. “I want to quit Az. I need a break from terrible people. I have money so you don’t-“

Azriel cups your face cutting you off. He moves you so you’re looking up at him. “You are going to quit because I hate seeing you like this. You’re my mate and I want to keep you happy and comfortable. And don’t you dare bring up money. What you have is yours, let me take care of everything.”

Tears escaped your eyes as you smiled up at Azriel. “Thank you, my love.”

The next day you went in to work to quit. Your bosses look of shock brought you so much joy. You practically skipped out of the building and all the way home to Azriel. He swears he’d never seen you this happy about something so small.

From that day on Azriel told you to do whatever your heart desired. So you took your time getting into your new routine. First thing was to catch up on your sleep. Your sleep schedule was atrocious so you spent the first two weeks sleeping in.

Then you finally got around to decorating and rearranging the house the way you wanted. Azriel’s heart soared when he came home after a quick mission. The house felt warmer with you in the center of it.

You took your time exploring Velaris. Visiting a new part of the city everyday. Of course you spent most of your time in the Rainbow and had taken a liking to staying at Feyre’s studio some days.

You spent more time with Feyre and Elain. You helped Gwyn in the library and even started going to training in the morning. And when Nesta had time you two would read together. You started going out with Mor and Feyre a few nights a week too. Azriel felt like he was watching you, his beautiful and wonderful mate, come back to life again.

What you loved most about your new life style was the care and attention you got from Azriel. Not that you didn’t get it before. But now you have time to really enjoy it.

Everything he did for you put you back together. From spa days to simple lazy mornings in bed he made sure that you were happy and cared for. After the conversation about your relationship you were both insanely happy.

Azriel loved taking care of you, and with this new dynamic and nicknames it all just felt right. He felt like you could truly be open with him.

Your happiness really hit him on a day where you slept in and he made breakfast. Az wanted to bring you breakfast in bed but you got up before it was ready. His shadows altered him to your presence. Turning, he saw you rub your eyes with a smile. You looked so cute in just his t-shirt and panties.

“Good morning princess.” “Morning daddy.” You pad over to him, standing on your tiptoes you plant a kiss on his cheek. “Breakfast smells delicious. Did you make coffee?” “I did.” You let out a small happy sound and filled up two mugs bringing them over to the kitchen table.

You sit waiting for Az to bring your plates over. When Azriel finally sits you’re adding an obscene amount of sugar to your coffee. Azriel takes the spoon from your hand, “That’s enough princess or your teeth will rot.” You let out a huff and pick the syrup up to drown your pancakes in them.

“What can I say, I have a sweet tooth.” You let out a small giggle at Azriel’s fake stern face. Quicker than you can comprehend Azriel tickles your sides and you let out a scream of laughter. “Daddy stop, I can’t, aahhh!” Azriel pulls you onto his lap leaving small kisses all over your face as you continue to giggle.

Once you calmed down you snuggled into Azriel, wrapping your arms around his neck tightly. “I love you so much daddy.” Az hugged you back equally as tight, “I love you too so much princess.” You lean back smiling up at him. You peck his nose quickly and cup his face in your hands. “Thank you. For everything. I’m just, I’m so happy.”

Azriel felt tears from behind his eyes. He could feel your happiness radiating down the bond. That made him feel like the luckiest male in the world. The two of you loved each other and he has the best mate. “You never have to thank me princess. I told you, it’s my job.”

He turns you to face the table and lets you get comfortable as he pulls your plate over. “What do you want first.” “Hhmm…bacon!” Azriel took a strip of bacon from your plate holding it up to your mouth. Taking a bite you let out a satisfied hum. He kissed the back of your head as he began to cut up your pancakes.

If there was a moment you could live in with Azriel forever, it would be this one. You both had nothing to do today. He was feeding you. And he was holding you close, making you feel more loved than you had in your entire life.

[woneuntonzz]

𝐬𝐧𝐚𝐩 .ᐟˎˊ˗

📞 ; “left twix or right twix?”

𖹭 : like-a-big-brother!sungchan x afab!reader x partner in crime!wonbin

💭 wherein wonbin chose you to be his ride or die and sungchan, well he just loved sharing his twix with you.

⤷ contains: fluff, cussing (very light), humor, mention of other idol

names for world building, twix lmao

⤷ warnings: none :))

⤷ wc: 8 . 4 k !!

not proofread >:)

under the cut .ᐟ ✂ - - - -

There are things in life that are just as beautiful as the twinkling lights of the city at night. Sometimes these things are salvageable, say, like a butterfly. most butterflies would live for two to four weeks, too short. That’s why with every butterfly that flew by and over the bushes of azalea outside your home, you made sure no one would come and ruin the very little time it had on this earth.

Your young self would have a daily routine of just sitting at the front porch of your house and just watching the flying critters flit their wings. To the pair of eyes that watched through their living room window, you looked lonely. You’d beg to differ though, butterflies were the closest you were gonna get to fairies, and every moment with them is fantastical at most. 

The eyes that spied on you from the confines of their house would soon join you, but he would never get too close. He just stood near your lawn, not even daring to take another step. 

Your conversations were of very frivolous things, you were children after all.

“What are you doing?” —he would be blunt the first time around. 

“Watching the butterflies” his eyes would shift around a bit, and after some struggle, he was finally able to spot them.

At that point he could’ve said anything else at all, but his reply was very arbitrary, “I can swim very well.” 

“That’s cool, I guess.”

“You should be my friend, do you wanna?”

“Mm-hmm~”

He’d learn that your name is Y/n, you lived just across the street and you went to a different school. Every day, you would be at the bus stop with your mom, sometimes it was your grandma, and he was there too but he couldn’t talk to you with the presence of an adult. You went to a different school, to his dismay, so really he could only idle around with you during those mornings at your front porch.

Overtime, he’d see you less and less at the bus stop. Instead, while he took his steps out of their house, he’d see your dad’s car taking you to school. The next morning, he finally mustered up the courage to sit next to you, and he’d ask, “Why is your uniform different? Did your school change the uniforms?”

You giggled, he seemed genuinely concerned about the sudden change. “No silly, I go to a different school now.”

And in a blink of an eye, you were away from him. He thought it was traffic’s fault that it was taking you so long to get home, but after the fourth day, he’d resort to a different excuse. She’s probably on a vacation, with lots of butterflies —it made enough sense for him to start waiting for you to show up every morning at their front porch too, until they too had to move. 

At first he opposed the idea and felt particularly betrayed by his parents for hindering his quest to await your return, but after some time of staring at your deserted house, he thought maybe they were moving to where you moved, or at least close enough for him to end up at the same school as you. 

Perhaps his expectations were too much of a major leap. Still, he kept his hopes up, maybe one day he’d stumble into you again. 

He would walk to the bus stop a little earlier than thirty minutes before the bus arrived. He stared at the stop across the street, and he wished everyday that ‘one day’ would be today. 

The day would come where he could no longer wish. Bearing only his dwindling hope, five years later he was almost running late he had to catch the second bus. Whilst he ran, he could hear bells ringing like christmas eve —a boy with black boxy glasses and a girl with a ponytail tied with a yellow silk ribbon, both on bicycles would speed past him.

He almost missed the bus again, because the yellow silk ribbon belonged to you. He would think that recognizing your face through the years of growing apart would be nothing but an impossibility, but the innocence that embellished your eyes and the lines that drew on your face when you smiled, he could recognize them like it was yesterday when he first saw you on your front porch admiring butterflies. 

What he definitely couldn’t recognize was the four-eyed kid that you cycled with to the bus stop. He’d just watch since your stop was the one across from his, so every morning, he would be across the street sitting on the wait —he not only waited for the bus, but he waited for you too. He’d observed the kind of relationship that you had with that boy, and he’s admittedly grown jealous of the way he could make you laugh and how close he would be to you all the time —or at least when you were at the stop.

It’d be like that, and you’ve always thought he looked familiar, but you never really came around with who he actually was. Highschool came around, and you would never know that one kid that always hung around every after breakfast at your front porch would be your classmate. 

“Can I have some? I’m really hungry.” you were eager to get a bite of something since your activities for that day were particularly tiring —in this case you eyed an unopened packet of twix bars. 

“Hmm, okay.” 

The chocolate was freed from its packaging, and you were expectant, and very evidently so. Your eyes followed one bar being held up, and —snap.

“Here.” —you would receive the shorter half of the right twix bar.

“Wow, thanks Jung Sungchan.” a playful smirk would play on his lips.

“You’re welcome.”

It wasn’t much, but you’d try your best to maximize the bites you would take. Three bites, and it was gone. The last bite felt like you were being snapped out of the universe, fading away into nothing and willed to the state of inexistence.

Luckily your best friend was there to save the day. And there he was, carrying two quantities of the infamous cafeteria sandwich. 

With a smile, he’d hand you one of the sandwiches. You were inspecting its edibility when you asked him, “Wait, were you saving these?” 

“Yeah. p.e. hit me real hard today.”

“Wow, coming from the Park Wonbin?” 

He was a track runner but eventually he’d move on to join the school’s dance team. Still, he had the stamina like that of a wolf. 

“Hey Wonbin, seniors told us to meet for practice.” —Sungchan is in the dance team too.

You definitely thought he was one with the typical cool guys of your high school. He’s a football varsity, and got pretty decent grades, but he was more atypical than anything really. Other than being extremely talented, he was deemed to possess a high sense of responsibility and was appointed to be a protocol officer by the supreme student government. You called him the school eagle —his eyes sealed the deal. He was such a watcher, sometimes you felt like not moving at all fearing that moving at the wrong angle for even just a few inches might get you in detention. 

Somehow, though, you never got sent to detention. You weren’t a troublemaker per say, but you’ve had your fair share of late arrivals, and under cloudy weather your teacher might just announce your detainment to the whole class just because you stood from your seat a little earlier than everyone else when class was dismissed. 

Sungchan was in charge of taking people to detention, but when it was time to turn in the transgressors, he’d just go on to tell you, “Meh, not really in the mood to send people in there today, besides, detention should be illegal, don’t you think?”

Now who wouldn’t agree to that? “I think so too!”

A faint chime of bells —a sigh would leave Sungchan’s lips, one you wouldn’t catch for yourself because all of your attention would lie on your best friend who rode his pure black bicycle. 

“Hi Binnie!” you’d wave your hand and exclaim like a child.

“Hi Y/n-nie, I thought you got detention?” Wonbin was genuinely surprised to see you out of school, the humiliation your teacher put you through would've been enough to kick you straight into the disciplinary dungeon —students liked to call it that. 

“Oh, that? Sungchan got me out, ain’t that right Channie?” 

Sungchan nods at you like a puppy, with strikingly excited eyes. He finally got himself a nickname. It didn’t even matter if it sounded like Binnie that he hated hearing so much, it was from you, and that was all that mattered. 

Your next stop —the bus stop. It was the same one you and Wonbin always cycled to every morning since you became each other’s ride or die, the same stop Sungchan stared into whilst he wondered if you could still remember. 

Whether you remembered or not, it was certain you moved on. You were just children anyways. That swimmer kid was cute, friendly, and funny for being his outlandish self. But you couldn’t even remember his name, Susan? Sangchin? —whatever it was, he would be just another memory you’d grow apart from. Either way, you already had Wonbin.

Yet, Wonbin was so hard to love. You’ve heard it all before, never fall in love with your best friend. He was once a timid boy that wore thick frames and was a bumble-borne. You befriended him because you thought you could be that one nerdy duo since you were so nerdy. You’ve both had your handful of friends, but in the end you would end up being there for each other when outcasted from the rest. It’d be easy to say you’re attached to each other, it’s already been a good seven years of rushed bike rides and chasing each other in empty spaces. Your friendship would be the foundation for your shared felicity and solace. 

The prime of your wretched feelings would root from your middle school days. 

“Do I look okay?” you heard Wonbin ask from behind you. 

You turned around, and it would take you a while to actually look at him because you were busy fixing —or trying to fix— his glasses which hinges went loose causing its temples to break off. “You look great.”

“You haven’t even looked yet.”

“Okay drama queen, hold up.” you set aside his poor glasses and the roll of tape you had worn on your wrist.

When you finally spared him your eyes, suddenly your glands were producing double the hormones. “Ew.” is what you’d utter, contrary to what you truly felt. Smitten, suddenly your best friend was too attractive for your eyes. 

You would try to forget about that embarrassing moment —embarrassing for it was one-sided. You’d feel mortified over your own shenanigans and the fact that he never even knew you did karate with the air in your room later that night by the sheer thought of him. 

You’d think that was it, that it was only your man’s journey to self-discovery —but he was just so attractive when he ran the track. You are what you eat, and everyday you’d feed yourself with your delusions. Your practice of being touchy and soft with each other with your sudden upsurge of attraction for him was not a good combo at all. 

Hand holding, side hugs, linking arms, resting your head on each other’s shoulder, it all used to be in your best friend etiquette, but because he couldn’t stop your heart from pumping a thousand beats per minute, there would be a shift. Boundaries were established later on, it felt just right since you were both changing and heading towards the confounding parts of your adolescence. You would be less touchy, perception growing as quickly as your bodies changed. 

Now he’d let his hair grow a little longer, would occasionally get a trim to follow school regulations, and he’d get rid of his glasses, though would still have them on when he needed them. He definitely got dapper, more charming. Eventually, you wouldn’t be the only one subjected to his attraction, and he’d hold his title as a ladies’ man. 

His timidity was long gone for sure, but if he were being honest, your attention was all he needed. He didn’t need, nor asked for the love notes stuck on his desk, or the letters stuffed in his locker. Still, he’d go through all of them, thinking maybe one of them might be from you. 

Him catching feelings for you was an absurd idea, but every day you’ve spent with him felt like a spark, that maybe would ignite the flames of your affinity. He saw the way tables have turned —then, he used to be the one to shy away from physical contact, more than often blushing even, and of course you'd just be your enthusiastic self. Now, he was the one who’d usually initiate skinship, smiling at your inept attempts of seeming unbothered. You’d gulp and inhale thick air whenever he gave you compliments also, and in his eyes you’d be his cute, little best friend —little, because he was a few inches taller but wouldn’t want to be discredited for only being a little loftier. 

Even then, your bond would only grow and it thrived with your little escapades like staying out after school till curfew, making shameless excuses to your parents that convinced them enough that you were just really studious and preferred after school till curfew group studies. For that though, you were obligated to maintain above average grades, it was hard, but it was crucial to mask your leisure.

You’re a fairly active student, the type to not feel anxious over giving the wrong answer because you believed redemption could be achieved by anyone who knew the right steps to take. School was definitely not easy, but it shouldn’t be made complicated. You’d learn to sort your priorities, separating academics from the twists and turns of your life. 

“Left twix or right twix?” —school would still encompass such interesting encounters nonetheless. 

It was the first time Sungchan would raise this offer, and you tittered at him for being a believer of the left twix versus right twix agenda. “There’s no difference anyways.” 

He took his time, basking in your sweet, sweet laughter before he replied, “No, but just imagine—” he takes out both bars from its packaging, holding them out with both hands. “This is me—” he’d bring the left one forward a little, “—and this is Wonbin.” then the right. 

Under a frolicsome mood, you wore a grin as you reached for the right twix, but he’d move it away. “Hey!”

“Wow, I’m giving you my chocolate and you still hate me.” 

“It doesn’t mean I hate you, but I like Binnie more.” —way more. With a bitter smile, he gave you the right twix, but not without snapping off an inch. “Sungchan.”

“What? If i’m a full twix bar and this is Wonbin, it should at least be accurate and Wonbin’s definitely not as tall as me.” you broke into a chortle from his unserious justification. 

“Wonbin is still tall though, besides, you probably want more for yourself just to spite me.” 

“Untrue.” he took the piece he snapped off and held it close to your lips. “This little piece can be you then, have it.”

“Are you’re trying to say I’m just about an inch of your height?”

“More like a foot, but yeah.”

He fed you the small piece, eyes following the movement of your lips as you bit on it. “Thank you, Channie.”

There truly was no difference between the left and the right side, he just wanted to test something out, to check how likely you were to pick the left twix —to pick him. 

You would wonder why he seemed to always have a packet of twix with him, and why he always hit you with the left or right question. You always answered right, and he always snapped it to the same length, giving you both pieces. You thought maybe instead of left and right, he thought of it as him and Wonbin still, like the first time he asked you. It was such a bold assumption to make, especially when you treated him like an older brother. He was waggish, not much of a prankster, but he knew how to turn a smile upside down and at the same time, he was dutiful, and caring at times needed.  

It was something about him you thought you didn’t have to second guess. Well, while he did help you stay out of detention for all the times you were sent there, you figured he might’ve done that for his friends too. 

“Dude, please, I can’t get detention today. I don’t have any other excuse for getting home late again.” 

“Bro, you know I have to turn you in, if not I might get in trouble.”

Okay, maybe not all his friends. Overhearing their smalltalk made you think back on all the times he’s gotten you out of trouble. Shouldn’t he have been kicked from the supreme student government if he really faced any consequences for never taking you into the disciplinary dungeon?

“Hey Channie?” 

Sungchan had never stood up so fast in his life. “Yes? Is there anything I could do for you?”

“Oh, no, I just wanted to ask you something, is it okay?”

“Yeah! of course, go ahead, hit me.”

“So I heard you and your friend talking the other day…” Sungchan anxiously swiped his tongue over his top lip as he waited for you to continue speaking. “Did I get you in trouble for saving me from detention?”

He profusely shook his head and would briskly reply, “No, not at all. Don’t you worry about it.”

You kept your eyes locked with his, and you’d furrow your brows and squint your eyes in jest, displacing your doubt with a playful scowl. His eyes would widen in the slightest bit, chuckling at your mien. 

“You know I always got your back.” —he meant it as a sign that you’d hopefully pick up on, but you learned to just not question his sweet gestures, all the big and all the small.

But from that day forth, you haven’t gotten detention, not even a single warning. Sungchan wouldn’t acknowledge your efforts till one the day you would be waiting for the early morning bus beside him, and you weren’t with your best friend like you usually were. 

“Y/n, you’re early today. Where’s Wonbin?”

“Still asleep probably. I already told him I wanted to go to school early, but he didn’t meet me at the exit street.” you yawned, carefully ridding the water in your eyes with your fingers. “I waited for him there for thirty minutes, but I just went ahead. Can’t miss the first bus.”

Sungchan blinked a couple of times, trying to process what he was hearing. The morning haze was quite strong, and it was getting to his head. If she chose to not wait for him, she wanted to ride the bus with me, right? —his thoughts were interrupted by the sound of you clearing your throat.

“How about you? you seem pretty early too.” your query had left him flustered for a second.

Truth be told, he would come that early in the morning to wait for you, and unfortunately for Wonbin too. However, in all of those mornings, you’d assume he had just gotten there like you have, and for that, he deserves an oscar. Though, there were mornings where he wouldn’t he wouldn’t be there, it was the days you got detention for arriving late at school. Sungchan could take the risk, but would rather not get himself in any trouble as a part of the student government.

“I ate some good breakfast today so I was in the mood to go to school a little earlier.” He sounded convincing enough, so you’d just shrug your shoulders.

The first bus was less full, with one or two vacant seats left at the back, and you sat next to him somewhere in the middle. Before you were sat though, he would place a hand on top of your head, anchoring you where you stood and rushing past you —and you thought he did that so he could have the window seat to himself, but instead he got himself settled on the aisle seat, giving the seat next to him a little tap, signaling you to sit down. 

“You’re unbelievable.” your words came out in an exhale as you sat down, struggling a bit because his lanky legs were in the way. 

“And you're just so cute!” he’d do that thing where he’d shake his head, pointing a pout at you. 

His supposedly teasing little gesture would cause your mouth to fall open, just enough to express the cringe you caught from his tomfoolery. “Ew, what the hell.”

“What?” he’d laugh at you —quietly, for the sake of paying respect to the other people in the bus— and for a second, would wear a smirk on his face, “But seriously, you’re really cute, you know.”

Your brows would lift itself along with the dilation of your eyes. He did sound genuine, but it was just a sheer compliment, one you didn’t hear often, but still, you took it as words he pulled out of the kindness of his heart. 

That day, Wonbin got to school eight minutes late.

“Sorry, I forgot we were supposed to be early today.” he’d tell you during lunch time, barely having touched his food.

“It’s okay, be sorry to yourself. You’re being sent to detention today —eat your food Binnie.” you watched his hasty movements, taking a bite out of his already lukewarm food. “You should practice being early too.”

“Is that why you wanted to be early?” he’d reply as soon as he got the food down his throat. “Sungchan kept you out of detention, didn’t he?”

“Yeah but, he might get in loads of trouble if he kept covering for others.” 

Wonbin only nods. “I guess I better be careful then.”

When Sungchan took him to that horrid room, he’d reflect on  —not his actions, but rather, Sungchan’s. Wonbin could tell that he stuck around you often, so often that there was no way you couldn’t discern his mellow doting, but you didn’t notice at all, did you? And from the very conversation you had with Wonbin at the cafeteria, he’d conclude that maybe, you like —or at least was starting to like Sungchan as well, he took it as if you were only staying out of trouble just for Sungchan. 

But there’s no way, Wonbin had only ever seen you with a rosey shade on your cheeks when you were with him, him and not Sungchan. He would be awakened from his nap by the detention monitor, and he would wake up with a new purpose. Like track and field, he was determined to stretch himself far enough to be able to reach you, to earn you once he pushed through the finish line tape. 

For the next following days, he’d wake up before the chickens could cluck, and he got to the exit street first and waited for you. He kept up the routine, even when he was tired from p.e. or dance practice the previous day, he’d greet you with a sheepish grin like he was telling you that he beat you to being the proficient early bird. 

When it had all started, Sungchan was utterly bewildered —but even more let down, but he’d never show it, to you especially. He had no reason to feel perplexed even, you saying that you waited for Wonbin the previous day on which he failed to show up should’ve been a hint that the four eyed kid —now not so four eyed— would stick around. For a while you would think he was excited to see Wonbin because he got more fired up, fired up in a positive way it seemed. 

Little did you know, they’d softly scoff after one of them spoke. Now they were sure of their competition, and you would be oblivious of it all. Fortunately for Wonbin, you still had heart eyes for him, which Sungchan would catch up to quickly. He’d try to contest it by helping you with anything and everything, humorous pick-up lines evolving into actual and genuine compliments, and when he had the chance, he would approach you when he sensed the gloominess in your demeanor and turn your frown upside down. If there was anything that didn’t change, it was of course, the never-ending left twix or right twix query. 

“Left twix or right twix?” he held the half-opened packet to your face. 

Without sparing him an answer, you’d snatch the right twix. Sungchan’s bittersweet chuckle subsided quickly when you snapped the bar yourself, popping the shorter piece into your mouth first. “You never run out of twix bars huh?”

But he was surely running out of time. Perhaps his practice of splitting the bar in uneven lengths was foreshadowing, if you and Wonbin came from the same twix bar that he split up, that would mean you two are each other’s halves. Stupid —he felt stupid in love.

He had a twix bar and a dream, but Wonbin had you close already. Besides, what could a split bar of chocolate do? Everytime Wonbin saw that pathetic excuse of a conversation being pulled out of Sungchan’s bag, he made sure to bring you a nice and cold bottle of honey ice tea to wash down the sugars. It was your favorite too, now how could a twix bar ever compare to that? 

Their antics would persist with time, still no one made any substantial efforts. And by the time you were in your senior year, you would think the two have just gotten closer, but with that they’d confront each other —prom night hung by a thread, and it was getting close. 

“What’s your plan? gonna pull out a giant twix bar?” sickly was all it sounded to Sungchan. 

“I already asked her. She said yes.” Wonbin’s assertive facade would break when he heard the certitude in Sungchan’s voice. 

“She did?” 

“Yeah, funny I used a twix bar too.” 

A quick and defeated exhale would fall off of Wonbin’s lips that would soon display a weak smile, “Good for you.” he had lost races before, practically got used to the feeling, because he knew there was always room for improvement, and that there would be another race for him to win. 

However, this race would have him limping. He does admit he was a little careless sometimes, still giving away his time to talk to a previous admirer before politely rejecting them, it wasn’t for a long time, it lasted for a good two days, but after those two days, it would take a while for Wonbin to win back your laughter —a while being a little over a week. For a minute he thought you were bound to grow apart by the end of highschool, but he’d almost go crazy over your shy glances and the slight stutter in your voice whenever he said something out of the best friend zone.

“You should’ve joined the school band, or the choir.” he says moments after he voiced out to you his concerns for college.

You sat up, lifting your head from his shoulder to answer him. “I considered, but I got too... scared.”

“How about this, promise me you’d be more open to showing off your talent to people —I know you love to sing, you’d love it even more when you realize through others how wonderful you actually are.”  his hand would slowly move close to yours. “Performing might help you love yourself in some way.”

“Okay, okay, I promise.” you held out your pinky, and he’d intertwine his own with it. 

“You have a beautiful voice. So, so beautiful.” you weren’t certain if he had intended for you to hear the last part, as it would be a little faint, but you heard it. 

In a hospital, you’d be close to the state of losing life just by how rapid your heartbeat was going and how hot you were, matching the crimson spread across your face. Wonbin kept your pinkies intertwined, who knows, that might be the last one you’d have.

Prom night inched closer, and closer, and a week before you were growing anxious. Then news would fly by of a lucky girl, so lucky that she got Park Wonbin to ask her out to prom. 

Let’s just say, you weren’t lucky at all. Devastating, heart wrenching, you had used every word in your mind’s dictionary to describe how you felt, at that point you couldn’t really run to your best friend to cry when he was the sole reason for your heartache, so to whom do you go to?

You sniffled, expelling a weak laughter through your stuffy nose before you’d say, “I want the left one.”

“Really? why?”

“Cause he left—” sniffle, “—he left me.”

Sungchan was only now realizing just how much you actually liked Wonbin. His guilt would arise, and he would look back on the moment he had deceived Wonbin to believing he already had you as his prom date when he hadn't even composed a proper plan to ask you out.

“Take it.” He gave you both bars. 

“Do you not want any?”

“No, I want you to have it.”

You ate your heart away, tears dissolving into nothingness once you’ve had a sweet bite of his succor. Sungchan offered you his water bottle, and it was half full of warm lemonade. You’d never expect him to carry around a bottle of hot lemonade, still you’d drink it. It was perfectly tart and sweet, like comfort in a cup. Soon enough, you were feeling a bit more lively and somehow felt like you needed to pop him a question. 

“Who’s the lucky girl you’re taking to prom?”

You were flustered to hear him laugh a bit as he spoke, “I don’t have one, actually.”

“Wait, really? not even one of the girls who held up those big signs that said ‘marry me jung sungchan’ in your football matches?” 

“I’d only take a girl I actually like. I don’t want to pretend to be enjoying myself around someone I’m not familiar with.”

You didn’t know what was in the air that day, but for a while you’d glance out the window, there was a butterfly —you used to love them so much, as a kid you’d always be there to accompany them, it was his fault you’d grow out of it —that little boy. Your glee that was once those tiny fairy-like creatures soon took the form of that little boy, but why were you suddenly just reminiscing about that childhood crush you had? it wasn’t like you’d meet him again, he could be an olympic swimmer for all you know. 

“I wanna be your lucky girl.” six small words were enough to make a mess of the big guy that he is. 

The next thing you knew, he was picking you up from your house. “Shit.” he’d only seen a glimpse of you through your living room window but he was already fumbling, sweaty palms and all. And when you finally stepped out of the door, all eleven organ systems in his body would start malfunctioning. You were even more beautiful than those azaleas or the garden butterflies that flew over them. He was so lost in your grace that you had to snap him out of it. 

“These looked like the ones we had back at my childhood home. They’re beautiful Chan, thank you.” you held the bouquet close enough to get a whiff of its scent.

They were azaleas, other than butterflies, it was these flowers that reminded him of you. Did he know what flowers they were the first time he saw them? no, but did he remember its appearance clearly enough for him to spot it within an array of several other flowers? Well of course he did. 

“They remind me of you.”

“Wait, really? how?”

He wanted to say it —I used to swim very well— but for some reason, he held back. “Cause you’re beautiful, Y/n.” 

It was the first time you’d actually feel your face heat up because of his compliments. However, this one sounded different, and soon you were shying away from his gaze, trying to hide the ridiculous color spreading throughout your face.

That night, you saw Wonbin with his date. For a while, you’d convince yourself that you were in the stage of acceptance, it was time to let go. But then, your efforts of avoiding him were vanquished, he only seemed to be appearing in your sight more and more throughout the night. He looked so… happy, happy like he was with you, but you were a couple meters apart, only giving each other abrupt glances. 

The night would end, with your eyes brimmed with tears, face to face with Wonbin at the back of the gymnasium where no one else could see. 

“I like you Wonbin.” was not what he expected at all. 

He was already shaken by your watery eyes when you had asked him to talk for a while. “But, why’d you say yes to Sungchan?”

“Because you had already asked Lia out.” and I thought you would ask me —you could only finish it in your head, too afraid that you might just be going crazy.

“Wait, Sungchan told me you already were his date before I asked Lia.” 

Suddenly, your tears would dry up. Your brows furrowed, feeling a great sense of betrayal. “I wasn’t. He's only my date now because he didn’t have a date either.” your voice became a little more stable, your anguish diminishing, and in its place would surface, the feeling of being misled. 

“Y/n, I liked you too.” Wonbin, for a short while, would look out into the lights of the gymnasium that seeped through the ajar door. 

Lia was waiting for him. While he had his moments of sorrow, he’d be by himself, and he’d find that she, a beam of sunlight, gave him enough motivation to look a little farther into the future. His feelings for you, while it did linger, would eventually dwindle from the thought that maybe you had been more fond of Sungchan after all. Now that it was refuted, all he really felt was confusion. His worries would lie with you, but mostly it was for the girl who he had told to wait for him, the one he had already made promises to. 

“Let’s stay best friends, yeah?”

Just a little later, you'd be back at the table where you had left Sungchan, and he was still there, his doe eyes lighting up at the sight of you. “How’d it go?”

“Why would you do that?”

He instantly knew what you were talking about, and with an anxious breath of air, he said, “Y/n, I didn’t think he’d take it seriously.” 

“Seriously?”

He was being honest though, he thought Wonbin would’ve double checked with you, he thought, if Wonbin really wanted to have you as his date, he could’ve had you instead of some other girl, right?

Now, there could be a billion ways to apologize, but chose to play safe, saving his confession for some other point in time. Forgiving him wouldn’t come as easy as he thought it’d be —what a man, too sure of himself for his own good. He took his time, being extra cautious and keeping his tranquility to take care of yours. You’d be nonchalant with him, something he’d never get used to, but even then, he was the same —if not more altruistic. For a while you’d feel bad for shunning him when he gave you most of his energy every day for you to reconsider his apology. But the whole ordeal at prom night was cauterized into your soul. Wonbin would only and quite literally be your best friend forever, not even really forever. 

You wouldn’t really say your friendship with him was at the verge of falling apart, but you most certainly weren’t spending as much time as you used to with him. You wished you could bring the old times back, you wished you had asked him to prom yourself. But the chances were long gone, you were already in college, still with a handful folks you’ve gone to highschool with —and the most notable of the few, Sungchan and Wonbin.

Much to your dismay, Wonbin would stray a little further from you, taking a major that was way too different from yours. Though, you made sure to make time for each other whenever you could, in the meantime, you’d have your moments with the only person you felt comfortable enough to stick by. 

“Left or right?” 

Your first instinct has always been to grab the right bar. “I’ll be on my way, Wonbin just texted me that he’d been in the mall since five. I’ll see you for group study tomorrow!”

You were in a hurry because it was already five-thirty. You chose the right one again, but at least you weren’t rejecting his offer anymore, unlike when you haven't forgiven him for his deception. You’ve come to terms with just letting it go, and you believed he deserved your forgiveness because he treated you so well, maybe too well even. You saw a shift in Sungchan, he was a lot more —sincere? genuine? honest?— honestly, it’s quite hard to pinpoint which one it is, but he was all that and more. 

Just letting it go was a painful process, especially when you still had to maintain your friendship with the very man that pulled on your heartstrings and cut them off. After everything that went down that night, you two became evidently distant, but only for a considerable while. Getting back to bff terms just came naturally and there was no actual talk about what happened that fateful night in your old highschool’s gymnasium. 

At this point, you were so close to accepting the fact that you’re only fated to meet a friend just to be a friend and nothing more if you wish to be nothing less. Maybe the best friend rule was right, maybe you should’ve been more rational. 

Your movie night with Wonbin would end with him giving you a very light hug, and words that would trigger your past misgivings, “I’m meeting Lia again tomorrow, just catching up, she’s at the neighboring campus, are you free tomorrow?”

You gripped tightly on the the straps of your bag, trying to look for something, anything that could possibly affect him the same way. “I’m pretty packed tomorrow, Sungchan and I are preparing for multiple tests coming this week.”

“Oh, that’s cool. Goodluck! and tell him I said good luck too.”

His unfazed visage left a stinging in your heart. Why did he have to grow his hair out to a length that made him look so alluring when he’s choosing to act unbothered by your sly hinting? sure, he wasn’t as beautiful as a bouquet of azaleas but still, it was unfair.

“You good? you seem very down today.” 

You were thankful the group study was not just a blatant last-minute excuse even though it might’ve sounded like one when you spoke it. 

“Did something happen last night?” Sungchan would quickly catch up with the shift of expression on your face, so he’d add, “I’m sorry. You don’t have to tell me anything.” 

“I look fine, right? like, just okay?” he was taken aback with your question and your voice that just sounded so tired.

You just had your eyes on each other, after a while his eyes would move down slowly as he said to you, “I don’t know about everyone else, but I think you’re really pretty.” his eyes would shift back to yours that fluttered with his dulcet words. “I really love your eyes.” 

He really did, he always have. He loved your watchful orbs that glistened against the harsh sunlight, lashes flitting with the morning breeze as your irises followed the butterflies.

That day was suddenly not so bad. 

The times you’ve met with Wonbin to catch up would be a time for revelations. You’d learn that he’d made a lot of friends —quite a friend group they are, just a group of pretty and talented people. Wonbin seemed to be handed opportunities left and right, and you were happy for him, it’s just that when it was your turn to share the events of your life, you’d be empty handed, and occasionally would tell him that you’ve been busy with projects, tests and whatnot. You’d feel mortified, having him feel bad for you when everything was going well for him. Those meets would lead to gruesome mornings the following day, but luckily, Sungchan’s always there to mend you. 

“Say ‘ah’” you’d part your lips, just enough for Sungchan to feed you a twix bar.

When the chocolate in your mouth was almost gone, you ask him, “Why didn’t you ask me if I wanted the left or the right one?”

“Well, did you want a specific bar?”

“Hmm, maybe? I mean, I would’ve chosen the left bar.”

It wouldn’t take you a while to familiarize yourself with Sungchan —him and his everything, his routine, his favorite things, his little habits, his comforting patterns, he was unlike any other guy you’ve met despite him appearing to be on the surface. He’d give you a sense of hope every time you felt like closing your eyes and falling into an eternal slumber, and eventually, he would become a reason for you to wake yourself up everyday.

While he’s explained to you the things you could still observe with your own eyes, you wanted to know more, to understand him a little better like he did so well with you. You were hesitant to go past standard questions, but he’d encourage you to continue asking him whatever. He answered every question, from his highschool life to his very upbringing. You’d learn that he wasn’t always a football player, he used to be a very well-equipped swimmer, and that the place his family used to live where you used to live, and that— wait, he was a swimmer? —you’d interrupt your train of thoughts. Sungchan wasn’t even there anymore, but you were still thinking about everything he had told you earlier that day. 

You’d take your time to think again, about that little boy that lived across from your house. He was a swimmer, and what are the chances he’d become a football player? What are the chances that that little boy is now the not so little Jung Sungchan? 

“Left or ri—” you’d bite the left twix from his hand, locking it in between your lips. “Oh, okay. Do you want the other one? I’m not really hungry right now.”

“No, no—” chew, “Have it. And while you’re eating, can I ask you something?”

“Yeah, anytime. There’s no need for you to ask if it’s okay.” he took a bite out of the twix bar he held.

“What do you think of butterflies?” —he’d stop chewing for a while and his eyes would light up like a night sky of constellations. 

“I’ve always thought they’re very pretty, but I know I could never love them as much as you did.” —so it wasn’t Susan or Sangchin, it’s Sungchan.

“Oh, so you didn’t become an olympic swimmer?”

Relief and felicity, there was nothing else in Sungchan’s mind and soul —nothing else but you. His butterfly-loving Y/n whose beauty surpassed even the most well-nourished of azaleas, everything about you, to him, was the closest God had ever gotten to perfection. 

From then on, you would tell each other stories, the hows and whys of your detachment. 

“We moved because of my dad’s work, but I was sad because I thought I'd never see you again ever —but you’re here now. I gotta admit though, I kinda forgot most of what we had then, I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay, I understand. All that matters to me is you still love butterflies —I mean, that you’re still happy.”

“Thank you Chan. How about you? Why did your family move?”

“Well, I spent like, what? four years maybe? —I was practically begging my parents to move me to a better school, y’know, because…”

“Because?”

“I wanted to be with you. I love you Y/n, I always have, haven’t I told you?”

His confession was something you didn’t foresee, but he didn’t either. It was all unplanned, but he just felt like it was the right moment. Just you and him at the most tranquil site on campus. He wanted to lean in, to just close the already little distance that separated the two of you, but he didn’t. He wanted you to be willing, to give him an avowal that you felt the same. It was only then that you’d start seeing him beyond his brotherly demeanor.

Tomorrow would be the first day that Sungchan would fulfill his duties as your suitor. 

First thing in the morning, he’d pick you up, three rhythmic knocks on your door was all it took for your heart to start tumbling and jumping from your chest. And everytime he opened the door, you’d be met with a pair of lively eyes that would become fervent when he finally had you close to him. You two were always together, so much so that it was hard to spot the two of you in two different places at the same time. At hectic times, you’d confine yourselves in each other’s presence. A twix bar and a smile was all and everything that could relieve the two of you of your frustrations.

Your birthday, unfortunately, was an exam day —something both you and him can’t miss for your life. You studied all morning, and before you could snooze away, he’d start to randomly play songs and dance around, dismissing the judgemental eyes that watched him caper. If that wouldn’t work, he’d lay his weight on you like a baby, pushing his nose against your cheek or shoulder. You just hoped you didn’t look too annoyed, because if you were being honest, you thought you would’ve never been able to answer anything on that test at all if it weren’t for him and his foolish, but sweet pokes. 

After such a long day, you two would be sat next to each other at an empty stairwell in campus, somehow, for you it felt like sitting at your old front porch all over again.

“Happy birthday!”

“Not really happy, I feel like I got half of the answers wrong.”

“Oh? birthday!” once upon a time, Sungchan could only hope he’d be the one to evoke your sugared laughter through your hardships, but now, he had it all to himself which was more than he could ever ask for. 

You watched as he fished a packet of twix, and with a cheeky smile, you’d snatch it from him. “Oh.” was all he could utter, dispensing another guffaw out of you. 

You opened it, holding both bars with two hands. Holding out the left bar, “So imagine this is you.” and then the other, “And this is me—” he takes that bar out of your hand using his lips, munching away as you laughed, “Hey! I wasn’t done yet!”

He could only laugh with you, coughing slightly from the sudden sugar attacking his throat. “Okay, o—” cough, “Sorry.”

“What I was meaning to say was—” you took a minute to admire the boy in front of you who stared at you with such fondness and anticipation. “We’re like twix bars. This is gonna sound so cheesey…”

His chortle would make you shy away from his gaze, but he was quick to assure you, “Go ahead, cheesey or not, all that matters is that you mean it.” it was all jested words for encouragement, but he’d soon realize that his jovial advice would apply greatly. 

“Well, I was gonna say, we’re like twix bars. Say one twix bar is you, and the other is me. If you break it in half and misplace it, you might just confused which half belongs to which half, so, technically speaking, no matter the consequence, we’d be each other’s other half.”

He had his lips pressed together, like supressing a laugh, but what it truly was is him fighting the urge to just jump you and shower you with all his affection. 

“Don’t laugh!”

“I wasn’t gonna!”

“Yeah you were.”

“Were not, you’re just really cute, that’s all.” he’d gently pinch your cheek, but you remained expressionless, so he’d start poking it, progressively becoming a little more pushy, until— “Y/n—”

It took a lot of your power, but you were able to grab him by the wrist, the hand that poked on your face would now be linked with yours, not only that, but your lips were locked too. 

“I love you too Sungchan.” “Your lips tastes like twix.” —you’d spew at the same time after pulling away from each other. 

Your own laughters were the only thing you could hear, nothing else but each other would matter as your lips would soon attach to each other again. 

“Wait, Sungchan, don’t you think we should be somewhere more, I don’t know, private?”

“Sorry, your lips just really taste like twix, I can’t help it.”

It wasn’t really because of the remnants of chocolate on your lips, he just wanted to go all in, as if he already hadn’t gotten you all to himself at that point. 

Though, it would be quite an interesting story to tell. Jung Sungchan, who used to swim very well, met a girl who loved to watch butterflies from their front porch. He fell in love, but she wouldn’t reciprocate after a few fifty twix bars. Maybe Wonbin was the one who’d been foreshadowing with precision, because Sungchan had a twix bar, and a dream in the form of you. And he hoped that maybe, some time in the future, you’d be watching butterflies at the front porch of the house you would share in morning and bask in each other’s love for the rest of the day, and maybe forever too. 

End.