#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

[girlgenius1111]

learning curve part 5

alexia putellas x reader [& r's nephew] after a hectic and rushed morning, will gets sick. r and alexia take care of him. later in the week, r and alexia lose to real madrid, and will tries to help. fluff + hurt comfort 🙂

—

It seemed as though for every obstacle overcome, another one almost immediately presented itself. Every time you were able to push some doubt you had about yourself out of your head, another one replaced it. And every time, Alexia was there to ground you back to reality. She had enough confidence in you that it was okay when you didn’t really feel it in yourself. 

And as time passed, your own confidence grew, and it seemed like Alexia’s did too. Until it was shaken. 

Mornings in your household were pretty routine. Alexia got up, giving you time to sleep in as she got Will up and ready for the day. At first, you’d felt bad that she was taking the morning with him and you weren’t doing anything. But, as Alexia argued, you did almost the entirety of his bedtime with him, while Alexia pretended not to fall asleep on the sofa. And Ale liked having time with him in the morning, and she was awake anyway. 

The two of them had their own special little morning routine, which included a walk around the neighborhood and Will spending 10 minutes picking his outfit out. It was practiced, at this point; Will and Alexia moved through the morning with purpose while you moved through the morning practically half conscious until your coffee kicked in, normally just as you were leaving the house to drop Will at school and head to training. 

This morning, however, was neither routine nor practiced. You and Alexia had been up later than you’d intended. Normally, her internal clock woke her up without fail. It seemed that not getting her 9 hours had messed with her internal alarm, and she was roughly shaking you awake just 20 minutes before you had to leave. 

“Amor. Amor. We overslept, levántante!” Alexia was almost frantic. 

You groaned, batting her hand away from your shoulder. She was usually much nicer when she woke you up, though the circumstances obviously wouldn’t allow for the few minutes she normally spent stroking your hair and kissing your face. 

“If you do not get up right now, we won’t have time for coffee.” Alexia called over her shoulder, heading down the hall to get Will up. 

And with that, you were scrambling out of bed and stumbling into the bathroom. What followed was a very chaotic and very rushed 20 minutes, but you managed to make it out of the house in time, travel mug of coffee in hand. Will was eating his breakfast quietly in the backseat on the way to his school, Alexia driving calmly like she hadn’t acted like a maniac to get everyone out of the house on time, and you were trying to make your hair look less like Alexia had very clearly had you on your back the night before. 

Alexia pulled into the dropoff line, and you reached back to undo Will’s car seat buckles. 

“Have a good day, buddy. We’ll see you later.” You told him, ruffling his hair as he gave you a small smile. 

“Love you Tia, love you Ale,” he called, opening the door and carefully climbing down out of the car. 

You only really had time to think once you were driving towards training, half your coffee already gone. It was more than a little odd that you and Alexia had been allowed to oversleep. Will woke up at roughly the same time everyday, and in the rare event Alexia didn’t get him up, he got her up. Today, though, he’d still been sleeping when she’d gone in to wake him, almost an hour and a half later than normal. It hadn’t struck you as odd until you’d thought about it for more than 5 seconds, but once you had… you were retroactively trying to analyze your nephew’s behavior in the short time you’d been with him that morning. 

“Did something seem off to you? With Will this morning?” 

Alexia hummed, thinking. “No. A little quiet, I guess. Maybe he didn’t sleep well.” 

You nodded, going over Wil’s behavior that morning. Quiet felt like it was only part of it, but Alexia was always more observant than you. 

“You’re right. He’s fine.” 

“He’s fine.” Alexia echoed, reaching over to grab your hand and lace your fingers with hers. She glanced over with a reassuring smile. “You’re overthinking. He’s okay.” 

You returned her smile, trying to convince yourself. There was just this nagging feeling in the back of your head, one you couldn’t get rid of. Will’s face as you dropped him off this morning  kept popping into your head, and maybe you were imagining things, but it seemed different than his usual smile. His goodbye had been quieter, and you could have sworn he walked slower into the building than normal. 

You shook your head, squeezing Alexia’s hand and trying to focus on her next to you before you began to freak out over nothing. Will was fine. 

—

Will was not fine. He’d woken up feeling positively awful, like everything in his body wasn’t working right. His head felt cloudy and his brain felt slower than normal. He’d barely been able to eat even a few bites of his breakfast before he had to give up, his stomach turning. He was warm when he woke up, his dinosaur comforter and matching sheets pushed to the bottom of his bed, but so cold his teeth were chattering in the car on the way to school, even wrapped in his new Barcelona sweatshirt. [Alexia had brought it home for him two days ago, despite you telling her he didn’t need anymore clothes. Alexia was always bringing him home little things she saw that made her think of him, and those were his most favorite things. The brontosaurus ornament from the christmas shop she’d gone to with you, the glow-in-the-dark shoes she’d brought home from a nike photo shoot, the spiderman keychain to attach to his backpack she’d gotten in the airport on the way home from an away game.]

Will wanted nothing more than to go home and burrow under the knit blanket you kept on the couch. He didn’t even care if you didn't let him watch the TV, as long as the icky feeling that filled his entire body went away soon. He thought about saying something, telling you he didn’t feel well. 

But then he’d remembered what Alexia had said the night before, about today being an important training session before you played Madrid over the weekend. Will wasn’t quite sure how long training was, but he assumed it was like school, and you’d be gone all day. And Will knew that football was your and Alexia’s job, and his Dad had always told him how important jobs were. When Will still lived with his Dad, he hadn’t been allowed to stay home sick, because his Dad couldn’t miss work. 

If anything, your and Alexia’s job seemed even bigger and more important than his Dad’s job. If Will said he was sick, one of you might have to stay home with him and miss training. That would be making way too much trouble, Will had decided. So, he’d put on a brave face and gone to school. 

Maybe, when he got home, he could say he was extra tired, and take a nap on the couch with one of you. Maybe you’d lay with him on the couch and scratch his back like you did when he had a bad dream. He had to get through the school day first, a task that was feeling more and more impossible with every passing second. 

—

The call came after the gym session. You always kept your phone on you now, as the adult responsible for a small child. It was a beautiful day, the kind that you pictured when you’d signed with Barcelona. Sun shining, warm on your skin. Your muscles ached in the best way, and though your worry for your nephew persisted somewhat, Alexia had been very reassuring. You walked with her now, from the gym out to the pitch, chatting easily about some gossip her sister had told her on the phone. It was funny, how you spent practically all your time together but you never ran out of things to talk about. Your teammates teased you for it, how you were constantly together, attached at the hip. 

Your phone rang, but Alexia kept going on about Alba’s horrible co-worker, assuming it wasn’t a call you’d need to take in the middle of training. Yet when you pulled it out of your pocket and saw it was Will’s school calling, and Alexia caught a glimpse of the caller ID over your shoulder, she cut herself off abruptly. 

“Hello?” You answered, stopping just off the pitch. You motioned for Alexia to go ahead without you, as Pere was calling everyone to gather around him, but she just rolled her eyes, leaning her head closer to try to listen. 

“Hello, is this Will’s guardian?” 

“Yes. Is everything okay?”

“Well, we have Will here in the nurse’s office, and…” 

You listened intently, as did Alexia, though there was something heavy now weighing on her mind. You’d told her that something wasn’t right with Will that morning. And she hadn’t listened. She’d been more focused on reassuring you and calming your anxiety, not pausing to think whether you might be worrying for a good reason. 

The nurse explained that Will had gotten sick in class, and needed to be picked up right away. Alexia was telling one of the assistant coaches who had wandered over that there was a family emergency and you both had to go before you’d even hung up the phone. As soon as you did, though, you turned to Alexia, face pinched with concern. 

“Ale, you can stay–”

“No.” Alexia said assuredly, grabbing your hand and pulling you towards the building. “We will both go get him.” 

Through your concern, your heart felt like it grew in size. Alexia never missed training voluntarily. Never. But now, she was rushing out with barely any notice to go with you to get Will, and you were reminded of how lucky you were to have her with you in this. 

Even if she wasn’t thinking the same thing about herself in that moment. 

—

The two of you rushed into the nurse’s office, panicked to a level that the nurse was not unfamiliar with. It was always the same with first time parents, when they had to come get their sick kid from school for the first time. The panic was always the same, you and Alexia practically breaking down her door in your haste to get to your nephew. 

“Will,” you sighed, some of the stress and anxiety leaving your body at the sight of him in front of you. He was curled up on his side, tears still falling, pale and shaky, yet you were with him now, and that made it a little better.

“I’m sorry.” Will whimpered, sitting up shakily and wiping at his eyes. “I’m sorry, I didn’t mean to.” 

“It’s okay, mi amor, don’t be sorry.” Alexia cooed, crouching down in front of the small cot and leaning in to kiss Will’s temple. She followed up with her hand right after, pressing it to his forehead and feeling the heat of his skin. He had a fever. How had she missed this? 

Carefully, you pulled Will into your arms, lifting him easily. 

“Please don’t be sorry, Will. I’m sorry we didn’t realize you weren’t feeling well.” You told him, slowly rubbing his back as he cried. 

“I threw up in class and everyone saw.” He sobbed, burying his face in your neck. Your heart broke, and one look at Alexia told you hers was doing the same. 

“I’ll sign him out.” Alexia murmured, resting one hand on Will’s back for a moment before heading to the desk, Will’s dinosaur backpack comically slung over her shoulder. You began to walk with your nephew out of the building and to the car, hearing his cries begin to slow. 

When you finally got him buckled into his seat, after some convincing required to get him to let go of you, you felt his forehead just as Alexia had. 

“Oh, buddy, you’re burning up.” You murmured. 

Will’s lip was still trembling, but he tried to smile at you. “I’m… I’m okay.” 

You could have laughed at how visibly untrue that statement was, but nothing about this was funny. Not even Alexia wearing Will’s backpack out to the car, much too small on her back. 

You just kissed the top of his head, shut his door and headed around to the passenger seat. The car was quiet for a minute as Alexia backed out of the parking lot, only just noticing how poorly she had parked in her haste to get to Will. 

“Are we going to football?” Will piped up quietly from the backseat. He’d come a few times, when he hadn’t had school, and he was hoping you and Ale would just bring him there so you wouldn’t miss work. 

You and your girlfriend exchanged confused glances, Alexia studying him in the rearview mirror. 

“No, bud, we’re going home. You’re sick, you need to rest.” You replied. 

You weren’t expecting Will to start crying again, but the sound of his sniffling soon filled the car. 

“But… but work is important. You can’t miss just for me!” 

You twisted around in your seat to look at him, reaching out a hand to rest on his knee. His little face was flushed red, from sickness or emotion you weren’t sure. It shattered your heart that he would ever presume that football was more important than him. 

“Will, you are much more important than work. So much more important.” You told him, tilting your head slightly to make eye contact with him.

“Cariño, did you feel ill this morning and not tell us because we had training?” Alexia cut in, the question practically burning on the way out. 

A moment passed before your nephew nodded slightly. You half wanted to tell Alexia to stop the car so you could get into the backseat and pull Will into your arms, and half wanted Alexia to just run you over. You weren’t sure where he’d gotten the idea to lie about being sick, but it felt like a massive failure on your part. 

“If you’re sick, baby, you have to tell us so we can take care of you. You don’t need to worry about football or training or anything; you come first, okay?” 

“Will, you are the most important to us. More than football, do you understand?” Alexia asked, her voice shaking slightly with emotion. 

Will nodded, his brown hair flopping into his eyes as he did so. “Okay.” 

—

Alexia felt like the guilt could crush her. She never never wanted you or Will to think that football was more important to her. Yet here Will was, so sick his little body was shaking, but he’d tried to power through so he wouldn’t interrupt training. 

It was with this guilt in her mind that she hovered uncertainly over the sofa, watching as you tucked Will under her favorite knit blanket, the one she preferred when she was sick, too. Alexia assumed neither you nor Will would want her around in that moment. You, because she’d talked you out of being rightfully worried for your nephew. And Will, for making him feel like he came second to her. 

She was minutes away from offering to go to the grocery store and get the ingredients to make soup, just so she could have an excuse to call her Mami in the car and tell her how badly she messed up. 

Well, how badly she thought she messed up.

“Okay, buddy. What can I get you? A snack? Soup? Anything?” You wondered, brushing his hair out of his face. 

Alexia’s thoughts were still racing as Will’s gaze flicked over to her. 

“Pancakes?” He wondered quietly, giving you a half smile. You chuckled, not sure why you thought he’d ask for anything else.

“Of course. I’ll go make them.” You stood, freezing when Alexia cleared her throat and spoke shakily. 

“No, I can. You stay here with him.” She said quietly. 

You raised your eyebrows, something about your girlfriend’s demeanor throwing you off. She seemed miserable and close to tears, somehow. Frowning, you opened your mouth, ready to ask her to join you in the kitchen for a minute so you could figure out what was wrong. 

Will beat you to it, though. “Tia, sit with me?” 

Will wasn’t looking at you, though. He was looking at Alexia. Her gaze flickered between yours and Will’s for a moment, completely dumbstruck. 

“M-me?” Alexia asked, wringing her hands together. It had been a while since you’d seen her like this, so visibly upset when she was normally the picture of composure. 

It didn’t seem to push Will off, though, because he just nodded. “Tia Ale sit with me. Tia go make pancakes.” 

Will had called Alexia… Alexia the entire few months he’d been here. Sometimes Ale, but never anything else. You were Tia, and Alexia was Alexia. Until now, apparently. 

Alexia could have sobbed, truly. Just when she’d been thoroughly convinced she was a horrible.. guardian or whatever she was, Will had innocently asked for her to sit with him, and fixed every doubt that was gripping her heart. 

And you… you were looking at her with tears in your own eyes, a smile on your face. There was no annoyance on your face, no blame in your eyes. You just looked happy. 

Maybe she hadn’t messed up as bad as she thought. 

Without another word, Alexia sat on the couch, sliding under the blanket with Will and tucking him into her side. He snuggled right against her, his face still slightly pinched with discomfort, but seeming a lot more comfortable now. 

After a minute of silence, Alexia now beaming at you from the couch, Will looked away from the TV back to where you were standing, watching the two of them fondly. 

“Tia? Pancakes? Please?” He reminded you. 

You nodded with a small laugh, leaning down to kiss his temple, and Alexia’s before heading into the kitchen. 

You really loved your little family. 

—

Will admittedly didn’t know much about football. He knew that you and Alexia were very good, knew that you both worked very hard. He knew Barcelona wore the blue and red colors, and he’d learned the numbers that appeared on the back of your kits. Though he’d yet to attend a match, he’d watched most of them from Eli’s couch while she gave him all the snacks he could ever want. 

Will was watching when you and Alexia lost to Real Madrid, and Eli tried to explain to him the significance. All he really took away from that conversation, though, was that you and Ale would be sad, and he should probably give you hugs to make it better. 

He’d done so when you picked him up from Eli’s, allowing Alexia time to head home and decompress. Will hugged you tight, Alexia even tighter once he got home and saw the frown on her face. It was late in the evening, already past his bedtime, and the two of you were very quiet. 

Will thought he sort of knew how you felt, because he didn’t like losing the games at recess, either. There wasn’t much he could think to do, though. He’d barely been home 10 minutes before you were asking him to go get his pajamas out, so he could start getting ready for bed. You and Alexia walked in a few minutes later, after having a tense whispered conversation in the hall, one that Will did not miss. 

He could tell you were both upset, but you tried your best not to let it show that you were somewhat upset with each other. It always happened after a loss, especially one like this. You and Alexia would be tense, snap at each other. It was a different situation entirely now that Will was here, his little face gazing up at the two of you, wide eyed, where he sat tucked under his covers. 

He’d put his pajamas on himself, and both you and Alexia cracked smiles when you noticed his shirt was on backwards. He smiled back, wordlessly holding out his favorite book for one of you to read. 

You took it, perching on the edge of his bed while Alexia leaned in the doorway, exhaustion causing her eyes to droop. Will looked between the two of you as you opened the book. 

“Are you fighting?” 

Alexia’s eyes were on you, you could tell, waiting for you to take the lead. You didn’t quite feel like looking at her, so you smiled softly at your nephew, running a hand through his brown curls. 

“No, bud. We’ve just had a long day.” 

Will looked dubious, even as Alexia nodded along. 

“It sounded like you were fighting. In the hall. When you said Alexia was being mean and Alexia said you didn’t care about her feelings.” 

You froze at that, not quite sure what your response was supposed to be. You were so tired, too tired to figure out how to explain that you and Alexia were just having a small argument to Will. Every part of your body ached from the physical match that had been played, and you swore you still felt as cold as if you’d stepped out of the rain just a minute ago and not several hours ago. 

Just before you were about to stumble your way through some explanation, Alexia cleared her throat. 

“We aren’t fighting, cariño. Your Tia and I just care a lot about football, and when we lose, it makes us sad.” 

“That’s what Eli said, that you would be sad, and I should give you a really big hug.” 

Alexia smiled softly, stepping further into the room, but not quite approaching you. You still wouldn’t look at her. 

“She’s right, your hug made me feel so much better. Your Tia and I hate losing, and sometimes we aren’t very nice to each other after we lose. But we aren’t fighting, just… disagreeing.” 

Will thought for a moment, his fingers fiddling with his navy blue spiderman pajama top.

“You should be better at losing.” He said finally. 

You snorted, and Alexia laughed. Will smiled proudly, even as you shook your head in mock disbelief. 

“Says the little boy who flipped the board over when he lost at checkers yesterday!” 

Will giggled, and the tension was broken. Mostly. 

Neither of you wanted him to carry the weight you were feeling, feel sad just because you both were. You kept his nighttime routine as normal as possible, reading his book and tucking him in, both of you kissing his forehead before heading out. 

Alexia didn’t say anything as you headed to your shared bedroom, but to be fair, neither did you. It was a bit early for the two of you to head to bed, but after the day you’d had, both of you knew sleep would be the best thing. 

Pajamas on, you and Alexia slid into bed, the room still silent. It only took a minute after you flicked the light off for the bed to shift, Alexia’s warm body sliding closer until she was pressed up against you. 

Tired of being mad, you turned into her, resting your head against her chest as her arms encircled you. A deep sigh escaped you, and you felt like it was the first real breath you’d had since the full time whistle had blown. 

“I’m sorry. I was harsh, and I shouldn’t have been. I love you.” Alexia murmured, lips pressing a kiss to your hair. 

You snuggled closer, inhaling again the scent of her. “I’m sorry too. You’re allowed to be upset, I shouldn’t have tried to fix it when you just needed to feel it.” 

“And we both need to get better at losing.” Alexia replied. You could hear the small grin in her voice, feel her chest shake slightly as she chuckled. 

“Apparently.” You agreed. 

“Goodnight, mi amor.” 

“Goodnight my Ale.” 

And just like that, everything was fine again. Everything was fixed. 

—

Will woke early the next morning. As was his routine, he got up and headed for your room to wake Alexia up. She was an early riser, didn’t mind getting up with him and letting you sleep in. Most of the time, she was already kind of awake, scrolling on her phone. 

This morning, though, when Will pushed the door open and peaked his head in, Alexia wasn’t awake. She was out cold, head practically shoved under her pillow, while you slept completely on the other side of the bed, one arm hanging off the side of the bed. You both looked very comfy, and Will remembered last night, how tired Alexia had seemed. She’d practically fallen asleep in his doorway standing up. 

Thinking for a moment, Will turned around and headed back to his room. He grabbed his ipad out from his backpack, the one he took with him for the car trip to Eli’s. He wasn’t technically supposed to have it now, but he figured that you wouldn’t mind if he let you sleep. He grabbed his headphones, too, his favorite blanket and his most favorite dino, Robert. As quietly as he could, he crept back down the hall and into your room. Climbing up on the bed, he took advantage of the ample space between the two of you, settling back against the pillows under his blankie. He plugged his headphones in, tucked his dino under one arm, and pressed play on his favorite dinosaur show.

This way, you both could keep sleeping, and he didn’t have to play alone somewhere by himself. 

—

You awoke to small, insistent hands pulling at the comforter so it covered more of you. Before you could open your eyes, little hands pushing into the blanket, tucking it in nice and tight around you. Groggily, you cracked an eye, finding Will’s face just a few inches away. He looked… guilty, like he’d looked when he broke the vase on the coffee table, and you were immediately alert. 

“What’s up bud?” You whispered, conscious that Ale was still asleep on the other side of your nephew. 

“Sorry. Didn’t mean t’wake you.” Will whispered back. “You looked cold.” 

“What are you doing in here, hm? You should be in your bed.” 

Will pulled a face, tugging his headphones off his head. “But it’s late and I was bored.” 

You clocked the sun peaking in between the curtains, startled to realize it was much higher in the sky than it should have been. It was at least 10, and Will always got up before 7:30. 

“Oh, buddy, it is late. I’m so sorry, why didn’t you wake one of us up?” 

By one of us, you meant Alexia. 

Will just shrugged, shyly smiling at you. “You were sad last night. And when I’m sad, you tell me it makes my body tired and that’s why I’m more sleepy. So you needed more sleep too, you and Tia Ale.” 

Your heart melted and you pulled the small boy down into your arms, squeezing tight. 

“You are the sweetest boy.” You told him. 

Will beamed, squeezing you back. “I got my ipad even though I wasn’t supposed to.” 

Leaning back, you brushed his messy hair off his forehead. That was what the guilty look was for. As if you’d be upset with him for wanting to let you both sleep, but also not wanting to be by himself. As if you’d be mad he brought his ipad in here and put on his Dino show and wore his headphones and tucked the blankets around you because you looked cold. 

“That’s okay, buddy.” You replied. “You are so thoughtful to let us sleep in.”

“Tia Ale says it’s important to be thoughtful and kind.” Will said, echoing something you knew Alexia told him every morning before he left for school. It was something her Mami had always said to her, Alexia had told you once. 

“Alexia is right.” You nodded, settling back into the pillows with Will now laid in your arms. Next to him, the mattress shifted, and a raspy voice piped up. 

“Alexia is always right.” Ale said sleepily, not even opening her eyes as she blindly reached to pat Will on the head. Will laughed, a sound that was quickly becoming one of your favorites in the world. 

For a few minutes, the room stayed silent, Will laid between the two of you, for the moment content to sit still. You were still waking up, and Alexia could probably barely be considered awake.

“Hey, Tia?” Will murmured, breaking the quiet peacefulness of the morning. You hummed for him to continue. “Can I call my Daddy?” 

Sometimes you forgot. You shouldn’t forget, but you did, and you knew Ale did too. Sometimes things just went so well, Will fit so perfectly into your family that you forgot the circumstances under which he was here. And when you remembered, you were instantly filled with guilt. Like you were stealing something from your brother. You should be talking more about Leo, calling Leo more often. 

Will wasn’t yours, but he was. It was a difficult line to walk, a difficult thing to balance. Will wasn’t your son but you felt like a parent. Alexia felt like a parent, had taken to being one so easily. But Will wasn’t your son. He was your nephew, and the last thing you wanted was to try to take the place of Leo. 

As you pulled your phone out, dialling the number for the prison, you wondered if you’d ever figure out how to fit into Will’s life without feeling like you weren’t doing enough, were doing too much. You wondered if you’d ever feel like you were doing right by your brother, and right by Will. 

You were torn from your spiral when the call connected. Instead of the usual robotic voice stating you would soon be connected through to Leo, it was the same robotic voice, telling you the call had not been accepted. There were plenty of reasons for Leo not to pick up the phone, plenty of real, valid reasons. For some reason you couldn’t explain, though, your stomach had dropped. Something about it felt wrong, especially knowing that Leo knew Will liked to call Sunday mornings. 

You glanced over to where Will was poking at Alexia’s face, where she was pretending to be going back to sleep. He was laughing, and you could see Ale fighting a small smile herself. With a deep sigh, you forced a tense smile onto your face. 

“Will?” The boy turned towards you, face lit up with excitement as he reached for the phone. “I’m sorry, baby, your Dad couldn’t pick up. He’s… he’s busy.”

The smile fell from Will’s face, the room suddenly feeling a few degrees colder. Alexia’s eyes flew open, fixed on Will’s face as he tried to hide his disappointment. 

“Oh. Okay.” He whispered, fidgeting with his fingers in his lap. 

It was like the life had been sucked out of him. You thought hard, trying to think of anything you could offer him or promise him that would lift his mood again. Alexia beat you to it. 

“Hey, cariño? Do you want to go out for pancakes?” She suggested, resting a hand on Will’s back. 

Still staring at his hands tightly clasped in his lap, Will slowly shook his head, much to your astonishment. Will never turned down pancakes, especially at his favorite breakfast place. You didn’t go often because it was a ways away, and normally, the suggestion would have had him skipping around the room with joy. 

“No thank you.” He mumbled, sniffling. His small fist came up to rub at his face and your heart broke even more. Alexia looked like she was in physical pain, fighting the urge to pull Will into a bone crushing hug. 

Carefully, you shifted back down in the bed, opening your arms for your nephew. He practically lunged forward, wrapping his arms tight around your neck and shoving his face into your shoulder. 

“Oh, buddy.” You murmured, wishing there was something you could say to make it better. 

There wasn’t. 

Alexia ran a hand through her disheveled hair and moved closer, wrapping her arms around you both as she kissed the top of Will’s head. One of Will’s hands unwrapped itself from around your neck, moving to grab a fistful of Alexia’s sweatshirt. Like he was trying to be as close to the two of you as possible, as if you could protect him from what he was feeling. You wished you could, more than anything. 

The three of you sat there in silence, all deep in thought, and you knew neither you nor Alexia would move until Will moved. 

What you didn’t know, though, was that this was the first of many unexplained declined calls from Leo. Just the beginning of a sudden complete silence you couldn’t begin to explain to yourself or to Will. 

—

:) cranked this out in between studying. hope you enjoyed ❤️‍🩹

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No school? Check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserves better. 

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

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

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

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

Luke Hughes loves summer.

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

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

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

He does love living with his brother.

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

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

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

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know her?”

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

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since when do you work here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes of your time?”

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

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

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

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know who you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

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

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

Us. Oh, he likes that.

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

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

“A nudge, then?”

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

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

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

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

“How profound.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fun. 

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

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

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

“We could make a competition out of it.”

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

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

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t see that happening.”

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

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

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

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

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

But God, you were pretty. 

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

“I’m Luke.”

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

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

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has you figured out, by now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

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

“You wish.”

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

“I think you’re an idiot.”

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

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

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

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How could you possibly know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you find out?”

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

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

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

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

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

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

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

Much better.

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

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

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

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

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was I not supposed to?”

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

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

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

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

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

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

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

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

“To get his hair cut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Any food?”

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

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

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

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

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

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

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

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

“Won’t he complain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would usually drive him crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She started it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

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

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

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

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

Interstellar. 

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

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

“Me too. I love space movies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

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

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

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

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

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

>PART TWO<

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

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

[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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[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

[umenoyume]

Meet Me in the Pale Moonlight

✧Read on Ao3!!!

chapter one ✧ word count. 3.1k

✦“Are you scared?”

A grasp is felt on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. A cigarette now litters the already messy floor. His eyes feel like they are almost swallowing you."

Since birth Nikolai was cursed to be able to see the fabled red string of fate, everyday in his life he has the dreaded constant reminder of his wish for freedom. On a snowy night in Saints Petersburg, a drunken girl tumbles on onto Nikolai, he falls in love for the drunk girl who's destiny doesn't cross his. With his heart beating he knows that this will be his only chance for freedom, and one way or another he'll set you free too. Even if you don't want to be.

cw：fem reader, abusive/neglectful household, implied stalking, dead dove, mentions of feature "fixing", nikolai being nikolai, minors/ageless/ blank blogs dni

You wake up, the droning sound of the television playing at too loud a volume doesn’t bother you, after all you’re used to it. You do your morning routine mindlessly. You sit down near the shoe rack by the entrance, you pull out a simple pair of sneakers and put them on. A loud shout is heard through your home, you don’t bother to listen to the word spoken instead you instinctively cover your ears in an attempt to deafen the noise. It’s your father, he comes striding to you with a crease in his brows. His gaze moves down to you, you tense up. He clicks the roof of his mouth and walks past you without saying a word. You clutch your chest and let out a deep breath. He exits the home, with a pack of cigarettes and lighter in hand.

You silently mutter numbers to yourself as you count up the customer's change. You place the coins on the change tray and give a quick bow with the typical customer service smile. “And here’s your change–have a nice day!” As the customer leaves you briefly take a glance at the clock on the wall of the convenience store, it’s almost twelve in the morning. This is your second job and your shift is just about to end. The feeling of dread instantly sets in.

I don’t want to go back home.

The once quiet background noise of the clock ticking away has now become a horrid reminder of your homelife. Sweat begins to dampen your forehead. The closest thing you have to refuge is work, though that isn’t all joyous either, it's still better than what you have to deal with in your residence. You stay at work as long as you possibly could until you see your coworker ready to replace your position. You let out a deep sad sigh as you leave the establishment.

You walk into an alleyway near the apartment complex which currently houses you and your father. The alley wall is covered in all types of grime, dirt, and graffiti. All of the writing on the walls are just mindless scribbles, all but one unfinished drawing of half of a pairing of wings. You lean your back against the dirty wall, despite the filth, it’s more calming than being home. You’ll just say you had to work overtime if your father is still awake when you get back. You pull your cell phone out of your pocket and begin to mindlessly scroll. A faint sound is heard in the distance. Your ears perk, the lids of your eyes begin to rise slowly, a foreign coldness runs over your skin. As time passes the noise becomes more recognizable–it’s a person and they're getting closer. All your body could do was stare at the now blank phone screen, as it automatically shut off after sometime of inactivity. Your palms begin to get clammy. All you can see is the vague reflection of your face in the cracks of your broken phone screen.

“You got a light?”

A deep voice is reverberated into your ears. You jump back, your heart almost leaping out of your chest. You take a moment to calm yourself down.

It’s just a person.

You give a curt nod–you always carried a lighter for your father–despite being wary, you hand the disposable lighter to the person next to you. While handing the object to them, you get a better look at their facial features. A long scar goes across his left eye vertically, though what was more interesting was his heterochromia. His left eye is a dulled grayish blue while his right is green. His hair is a platinum blonde white, though it appears initially short, a longer section is tied into a braid that lays on his right shoulder. He lights a cigarette, covering the flame with his hand as he does so. He blows the nicotine laced smoke away from you before speaking. “You out of cigs?”

You shake your head, “No, I don’t smoke.”

He looks at you with a raised brow, his tone confused, “What’s with the lighter then?” He asks with his lips quirked upwards.

You slip your phone in your pocket so you can converse with him. “I’m not obligated to answer, am I?”

He stares at you, his eyes wide and unblinking as if he were taken aback. He lets out a dry laugh. “No… no, I guess you’re not.” The man places the cigarette between his lips. “Well, will you tell me why you're in this dingy alleyway then? This usually isn’t the typical hangout place for most.”

“I didn’t want to go home.” You speak simply, your answer is vague but it’s most likely enough to satiate the man. You repeat his question, “So why are you in this gloomy alley?” A hint of playful mocking is heard in your voice as you accentuated the word ‘you’.

“Cause’ I’m a serial killer Darlin’.”

He speaks with an unsettling amount of bluntness, his face is uncomfortably unreadable. You swallow your saliva nervously, his gaze feels like it pierces your eyes. His lips start to curl upwards, your heart beat increasing as follows. You begin to realize how much the man towers over you–he’s six foot tall at least. His build was large, in the sense that he was strong.

He slaps you on the back. “I’m kidding…!” He chortles, though a likely harmless joke, it leaves a hint of uneasiness in your system. He moves his hand to your head to ruffle your hair, seemingly in an attempt to calm your nerves. You flinch but you don’t protest, your face warms up, unconsciously you lean into his touch. “You’re cute you know? Like a little dove in a cage.”

He retracts his hand, your expression tries the hardest to convey discomfort but your face is nothing but a red blushing mess. An uncomfortable sense of yearning is gained in your mind from his actions and words.

What in the world is wrong with you?

You try to brush the feeling aside, you feel somewhat pathetic for your reaction. “…What do you mean?” The words spoken sound uncharacteristically meeker than your usual voice.

Faint, quickly fading sparks trickle down onto the ground as he tips the ashes off the end of his cigarette, “I envy birds, they aren't weighed down by anything. They live their lives blissfully, being able to fly to wherever their little heart’s desire.” His gaze falters down to the slightly damp alleyway floor. “But no matter how much a caged bird spreads its wings, no matter how much it believes it’s free, the only choice is to follow in servitude.”

“That’s quite the idea you got there…!” You state, your voice cracking at the end. You tuck your hair behind your ear, showing a hint of nervousness. It’s not like he’s wrong–you never had much agency in your life–you knew that, but it’s weird that a complete stranger is able to deduce that within less than half an hour of meeting you. Perhaps he’s just observant? You clear your throat, “But I guess I can somewhat see where you’re coming from…?” He doesn’t respond, instead he stares into you. He smokes silently, his gaze is focused on your eyes, reminiscent of the way one would gaze through the glass of a snow globe. It feels like he’s trying to see beneath your skin in a way, to see what your mind speaks. You try to avert your eyes from meeting him.

“Hey,”

He calls your name, his voice is raspy as it almost demands your attention.

“Are you scared?”

A grasp is felt on your jaw, forcing you to look at him. A cigarette now litters the already messy floor. His eyes feel like they are almost swallowing you. A familiar fear, panic rushes through your veins. You grit your teeth with your lips trembling, suppressing your urge to scream, in fear it would somehow anger him. If you had ears like a rabbit, then they would be pinned flat back.

He lets go of you, he puts his hands in the air as if to show innocence. He laughs for a short moment before looking directly at you, gauging your reaction. He pouts in a childish manner when he notices your expression and whines, “Don’t look at me like that, I'm kidding–!”

What a cruel sense of humor. You can’t believe you were briefly flustered by the same man just a few seconds earlier. You can’t help but think he gets at least some amount of sadistic joy out of his acts. You purse your lips and furrow your brows. “That’s not funny—!” You pause your sentence, a chill runs down your spine,

“How do you know my name…?”

He tenses up, his eyes widening for a moment before dulling. An odd glint of sadness is briefly seen in him but it quickly disappears. He quickly points at your chest.

You gaze down to look at your attire. Your mouth forms in the shape of an ‘O’. Sticking out like a sore thumb, a name tag with your name written on it lays pinned to your work apron. “Oh, forgot I still have my work uniform on.” You speak, the shakiness clearly showing that you don’t fully believe him. He’s getting more and more frightening with each second that passes. Every little word that escapes through his lips sets more alarm bells in your mind telling you he’s dangerous. You pull your phone out of your pocket to check the time, it’s 1 in the morning. If you don’t get home now you won’t be able to make it work on time. “Sorry, I gotta go.” You speak as coolly as you possibly could, secretly glad that you have to leave.

For once in your life, you ran home. You never wanted to be home more than you did now, though the want dissipates once you finally make it inside the building. You tiptoe through your own home’s hallways to not be noticed by your father. Thankfully you make it to your room without incident. You flop onto your bed, the springy mattress causes you to bounce slightly. Your breathing is ragged, your forehead is damp with a coat of sweat. You feel oddly safe, a sense of comfort in your own home was rare. It must be because of him, that man in the alley. You're still a bit shaken up by the encounter. You know that he said he knew your name from your stupid name tag and yet you can’t believe him. Everything points to him being honest and yet you feel like he knows far more about you than you would ever know. Even meeting him in the alley seems oddly calculated. You shake your head, trying to snap yourself out of the thought. You rub your sleepy eyes. You’re just overthinking… you should really get some sleep. You yawn as your eyes start to flutter closed.

Just who was that guy?

____

To have true freedom is to be free of the feelings chaining one down one’s desires. Feeling of guilt, pity, fondness, and attachment are only obstacles to true joy. Attached his very own hands was a web, though others would prefer the terms thread or string more. No matter what red fiber connected the fingers it was all the same to him. For what was supposed to be an old myth was Nikolai’s reality. On everyone’s fifth digit was an invisible red thread tying two together, the two bound together are said to be destined to be with one another. ‘The red thread of fate’, how sickening.

A few years back, on a snowy night in Saints Petersburg, a person tumbled onto Nikolai.

He laid stunned in the cold snow that covered the streets. The snow’s frigidness slowly started to seep through the thick winter coat he was wearing. He glanced down to see you red faced, it was clear to anybody that you were drunk. Your hands clung onto his chest, akin to a way a cat would knead at a blanket. Your hair was frayed, your eyes half lidded. The side of your face was pressed up against him, your cheek was squished up on him, you were treating him like some type of pillow. You looked utterly helpless. A tug was felt in his heart–adorable

He grimaced as he caught himself in mid thought. What’s more important was helping you. He pushed you off of him and got back on his feet. Seeing that you didn’t follow he let out a deep sigh. He kneeled down, swung your arm over his shoulders, and helped you up. He took you to a nearby bench. He sat beside you and spoke in a concerned tone, “Are you ok…?”

“Never been better…!” You hic, “Hey, you… you should get me another drink Mister…”

His mixed matched eyes stared at you dumbfounded, your speech was severely slurred, you're definitely too drunk to be walking out in the streets. He ruffled his own hair, he let out a deep slightly annoyed grumble. “You live around here? I’ll get ya’ a taxi if you don’t.”

You lazily gazed at him, you mind failed to comprehend what he said for a few seconds, which felt like an eternity to him. You seemingly pointed in the direction of your residence. As you pointed, Nikolai curiously glanced at the red thread attached to your pinkie finger. It leads in the direction opposite to him. Like usual, he no longer paid any more mind to the red thread. It’s not like the other people around him were able to see it anyways. “Just ‘round the block…” You managed to speak, You started to stare off into space a bit. “I-i think?” You purse your lips and your brows furrowed.

How utterly hopeless…

He frowned, “Just tell me your address and I’ll take you home ‘kay?”

“No!” You whined, elongating the ‘o’ sound. ”I’m not going home with a stranger!”

He mocked, “Looks like someone knows stranger danger…”

You confidently puffed out your chest, “Yep! My mom taught me that!”

Nikolai prompted his elbow on his knee, he rested his head against his hand. He inhaled, amused. He talked with a dash of sarcasm, “Woah, your mother must’ve been real smart huh?”

You chirped, “Yep!” You stared at him, akin to the way a bird would gawk at whatever made a sound nearby.

“Are you an idiot?” He asked rhetorically. Your brow furrowed, you pouted. The drunken red of your face made you look disreputable.

He gulped deeply, “Sorry, never mind that…” HIs gaze was averted, he buried the bottom half of his face into his palm. He cleared his throat. He straightened out his posture, sitting up straight. He nudged your forehead with his pointer finger. “What’s important is that you're too drunk to be out!”

You spoke lazily, “Nuh uh…”

You wagged your finger at him. He couldn’t help but laugh, “Are you kidding me–!” He nudged your forehead once more, this time harshly. “Your drunk ass toppled over some stranger!” He jeered at you, though not in a rude manner. You rubbed your forehead in an attempt to soothe the pain as he snickered at you. His demeanor quickly changed into a more serious one, “You’re going home and that’s final.”

Your eyes averted from his, your mouth remained closed shut. Your body language felt nervous. You shook your head, your hair swayed as you did so.

“…I don’t wanna go home.”

He grew silent, a part of him wanted to ask why, but he knew it was better to say nothing. He could already infer what you were trying to imply. He just sat by you and listened to your words.

“It… it’s horrible there,” Your drunkenness spewed on uneasy amounts of honesty. “I live with my father, he’s the only living family I have. But the thing is, he's a nightmare. He yells my ear off, beats me when I don’t get his beers in time, and steals more than half of my salary.” You rolled your eyes, “Whatever…! He’s just a stereotypically stupid deadbeat dad!” You crossed your arms and your lips curled downwards. It’s clear that you wanted to say more, but you forced your own mouth shut. You sulked for a while before your face softened into a more sad one. Your body moved closer to his, your hand was unconsciously placed on his lap. Your face leaned in close to his, your eyes were big like a sad puppy. “So, please don’t make me go home–” The hand on his thigh trailed up to his bicep. Both of your arms wrapped around him, your face pressed up against his shoulder. “P-please, don’t Mister…”

He spoke stiffly, “I won’t.”

Let go, let go, let go–

He could’ve easily pulled your weak grasp off, yet he couldn’t bear too. His chest felt heavy, chaining webs shackled him. You pulled away from him, the warmth from your grasp still lingered. He felt a stinging feeling in his chest. How pitiful of him, just one sob story and he was already filled with pity, no. Attachment. He pursed his lips, no this isn’t something as silly as attachment, just a simple attraction to your physical appearance is all. Speaking of your appearance, your face was bright. A wide almost child-like smile was spread across your lips, your eyes shone with a mix of awe and hope. You grabbed both of his hands and clasped them together between your own. Your hands were ice cold from the lack of gloves, but his cheeks were producing all the heat he needed.

“Thank you so much!” Your tone was sweet, a sweetness that he wouldn’t have felt if you were sober. He knew that this friendliness was nothing more than a drunken reaction but he couldn’t help but be enthralled by your warmth. Nikolai has known attraction, and yet when his heart beats for you, it’s different.

He gave a second glance to something he thought he would never look at more than once. Just as he saw before no thread of his was attached to your fate. The fact that you weren’t connected to him started to bother him. How pitiful of him, just one sob story and he was already filled with pity, no. Attachment. A queasy feeling filled his mind at a realization–if you were bound to him he wouldn't mind being stripped of freedom. His mind tried to calm.

I am free, I wouldn’t be feeling this way if I weren’t.

Right, the separateness of the two of you only proved to him that he was free. If anything you were in a cage, a cage set in since birth, not him.

He’ll just set you free, free like him.

[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!

[marlenesluv]

charles + gf living together in monaco (hc)

note: saw charles’ story of him playing piano this morning (feb. 10) and felt the need to make this bc my mind spiraled. (this led to more than i expected, maybe marriage. tf is wrong with me) also i wrote the “he won monaco” bit in february 😭 imma say i manifested that.

pairing: charles leclerc x fem!reader

warnings: none

head-cannon: yours and charles’ lives after moving in together in monaco.

۵ after dating for about three years, charles proposed the idea of you guys moving in together. the two of you decided on buying a new house in monaco instead of picking between the two of yours.

۵ if you thought living together would be a bad idea, you’d be wrong.

۵ it was the best idea you guys had ever had.

۵ no more ‘can you come over?’ texts at 2am because one of you couldn’t sleep. no more keeping clothes in his closest and some of his in yours. no. everything was perfect now.

۵ you shared a bedroom, a space, a closet, and a home.

۵ when you woke up in the morning, you occasionally would wake to charles playing the piano. a beautiful sound that you thought angels would come down from heaven to hear.

۵ you’d sneak up behind him and kiss his cheek as you sat beside him and played for a while with him.

۵ when you met charles, you didn’t know anything about pianos. but after three years, he’s taught you everything and you enjoy the hobby more than a lot of things.

۵ piano became a staple in your daily routines. at least an hour everyday, you sat down at the piano and practiced.

۵ which usually ended with charles behind you, kissing your neck as you giggled, pushing him off, “charles! i’m practicing, stop that.”

۵ maybe you guys even came out with a song on his spotify. a little duet on the piano, which everyone loved.

۵ grocery shopping was always fun. you insisted that charles didn’t need to go, he was busy after all. but he would never miss it.

۵ he probably will grab to the most unhealthy things and you’re just like, “wont your trainer be mad…?” and he just shrugs and throws the cereal into the cart.

۵ you and kika are bestfriends. obviously.

۵ since your boyfriend’s hangout all the time, you guys started talking and hanging out together and leaving the guys to train.

۵ since you and kika became so close, pierre and charles shared a jet more often.

۵ races were even more fun with you had another girl to talk to. sure, you were friends with the other girls, but you and kika had a connection.

۵ and you had always gone to the family dinners.

۵ pascale saw you as one of her own, she knew you and charles were meant for each other.

۵ and arthur and enzo knew that too.

۵ of course, they all expected charles to propose, which after a while, he told them he would eventually.

۵ but before that, you told kika how much you wanted to get married, and she kept telling you, “just wait, i’m sure he will soon.”

۵ and yeah, maybe pierre told kika that charles was planning to purpose after monaco this year.

۵ and he won monaco. he won at his home.

۵ and he proposed to you on that podium, asking you up there to celebrate, and he got down on one knee.

۵ sobbing, of course you said yes. which fans loved and his friends cheered, kika recording the whole thing.

۵ the wedding was gorgeous, and the honeymoon was incredible.

۵ but you both looked forward to going back home.

۵ you yearned for your simple routine.

۵ and, of course, charles threw out the idea of christening the house now that you were officially married.

۵ and christen you did.

۵ the bedroom, the sofa, the shower, the island, the kitchen table, the balcony, the guest bedrooms, and his new ferrari.

۵ anyways….

۵ you also tried to reach charles how to cook.

۵ he burnt the cookies, let the pasta boil over, served raw burgers, and made the scrambled eggs smoke.

۵ so you quickly took over the home cooked meals.

۵ the two of you loved living together, but it was even better as a married couple.

(guys this posted on queue OMG😭 i’m so sorry it wasn’t finished! i’ll keep it up tho lol)

[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.

[captainpains]

Caught in the Rain (Sergeant Hunter x reader)

Apart of the Promptathon held by @cloneficgiftexchange. It was so fun to write! I hope you enjoy💕

Season: Spring Prompt: Caught in a sudden rainstorm

Warnings: gn reader, fluff, meet cute, 

~~

Pabu was beautifully peaceful. For the first time in his life, Hunter felt almost relaxed. But, he was also bored. After so long of constant missions and life threatening situations, it was hard for Hunter to just stop that. He knows it was his choice, and he could’ve chosen to join Rex and Echo. However, he also needed to think about Omega; she would go wherever he did. 

So, Hunter established a routine to cope with the sudden lack of activity. 

He would wake up early and go for a run. Then, he would make breakfast, eat, clean up. Next, Hunter would talk to Shep, asking if there was any work to be done. Lunch was after that, and so on and so forth. Monotony and routine everyday. Yet, it was suffocating.

While moving some crates for Shep one day, Hunter saw a small stand on one of the island's terraces. It was filled with colorful flowers and fresh plants that looked native to Pabu. You were managing the stand, wearing a sun hat and speaking to a child. You handed her a flower, and her face lit up. The girl bolted away. You went back to tending your stand.

Hunter’s eyes lingered on you for a moment. You moved carefully and were so gentle with the flowers. It was a refreshing sight after a lifetime of fighting and harshness. 

From that day on, he would see you around. Mostly at your flower stand, but also at the town festivals and down by the beach. The sergeant felt odd for never officially meeting you, but he just couldn’t do it. Someone else always jumped in: Omega needed something or Shep needed help and whatnot. Hunter wanted to meet new people, to break up the monotony of this new life. 

But one day, he finally did get his chance to talk to you.

It was a sunny day like any other. Hunter was not doing anything, so he thought it was time to buy some flowers. However, his luck was of course shit. 

The rain started a few drops at first before the sky unleashed a crying downpour. The wind picked up, screeching past his ears only to be deafened by the thunder creaking though the sky. The villagers in the square began to rush, desperate to get inside and stay dry. 

You were trying to shut your stall, attempting to keep any more of your flowers from being stolen by the wind. Your hat blew off as you forced the doors closed. You turned expecting to watch your beloved sun hat fly away, but a man had caught it. A devastatingly handsome man.

“You need to get inside.” He insisted.

“I can’t lose my stock!” You yelled over the noise of the wind.

“I’ll help!”

He grabbed the stand doors and forced them closed in an impressive feat of strength. But with the storm getting worse, there was no time for you to appreciate it. You swiftly locked the doors. The man still held your sun hat. When you thought he was going to hand it over, the clouds unleashed their horrid downpour. 

In his quick thinking, the man grabbed your arm and pulled you slightly down the pathway towards an empty house. His grip was firm yet not too tight, allowing you to pull away if you wanted to. You didn’t.

“Sorry,” he anxiously panted out, releasing your arm. “I figured you didn’t want to be soaked by that storm.”

“It’s alright.” You smiled, “Thank you for your help. I don’t think I would have been able to close up on my own in the wind.”

“It’s no problem.” He noticed then that he was still holding your hat. “Here. I’m Hunter, by the way.”

“Thank you for saving my favorite hat too.” You giggled a little, then introduced yourself.

“It’s nice to finally meet you. I’ve seen you selling flowers, but never got the chance to say anything.” Hunter awkwardly scratched the back of his neck.

“Yeah. You're new here, right? Well, newer.”

“Only a few months or so,” Hunter admitted. “It’s a nice change of pace for us. And the kid needed some stability and friends her age.”

“Kid?”

“Yeah. Her name’s Omega. Short, blonde girl who hangs out with Shep’s kid.”

“Oh, I’ve seen her around. Her and Lyana come to my stand all the time to see what new flowers I have.”

“Really?”

“Yeah, they walk all around town saying hi to everyone and looking at all the stores. She really seems to like it here.”

“Well, as long as she’s happy, I’m happy.”

“But, how are you settling in? I mean, your kid is doing great, but how do you feel?” You asked.

“Fine. It’s… soldiers are trained to cope with change.”

“But no one prepares you for the transition when you leave the military.” You empathetically offered, checking on the rain out the window.

“I can't say it hasn’t been interesting. We were never supposed to exist without the Republic.” Hunter admits. You were thankfully easy to talk to.

“It’s alright. The rain looks like it’s lightening up though.”

Hunter looked out the window. Downpour had turned into a drizzle and seemed it would soon disperse. The weather on Pabu was particularly fickle and ever changing.

Hunter hummed, “Before you leave, I hope to see you again, with less rain.”

“I’d like that.”

[wowzees]

no matter what

lando norris x reader

y/n is not used!

a/n: this is a short story from uni- i have to make a collection of them

the one i posted earlier was also one, but these have not recived feedback from my professer or have been majorly edited. enjoy!

High school felt like the longest four years of my life. Days blurred into each other, routines became a way of life, and I thought I had everything figured out. I was one of those kids who had his group of friends, the sport he played, and the classes he took, all laid out in a neat, predictable order. Nothing ever really changed.

And then, there was her.

She’d been there from the start. The girl who wasn’t just a friend,she was something more, though I never said it out loud. We’d grown up together, laughed at the same inside jokes, gotten in trouble for the same stupid things. She knew me better than anyone else, maybe even better than I knew myself. She was the one I could count on for anything. She was the one who could make me laugh on days when nothing felt right. When life got heavy, when there was uncertainty about my future, she was the one I turned to. And I thought that would never change. Or maybe I didn’t think about it at all. Why would I need to? She was always there, like a constant in my life, something I could rely on. But looking back, I see the warning signs. Small things that I chose not to notice. 

At first, it was little things— how she stopped coming to my house after school everyday. How she stopped calling me for big milestones. It’s easy to ignore changes like that. Until they hit you all at once. And then, it was too late.

Without her presence, I started hanging out with the kids from my soccer team more, and more. I told them about all my problems with her. Their solution? They wanted me to prank her. I wanted to fit in. So, I agreed.

Maybe I was too busy with soccer, or maybe I just took her for granted. But somewhere along the way, I stopped seeing her the way I always had. I saw how my actions hurt her. But, somewhere along the way i stopped seeing that. I stopped seeing how my actions hurt her.

But I didn’t think much about it at the time. After all, things had always worked themselves out between us, right? I guess I never thought I’d lose her, guess I thought that she’d always be there.

How wrong I was.

And seeing her now after graduation, getting ready to go to college and saying goodbye to friends for one last time, I can't help but remember a time when things were so much simpler.

Age, 7. Grade, 2

“Lan, wait up” she yelled, peddling her feet. I slowed my bike down and turned to face her. 

“Hurry up! You're being slow.” she peddled faster. Too fast. I watched in slow motion as she rides over a rock, flies through the air as if it’s molasses, then falls in what seems the same way a feather falls through the air. Then promptly crashes into a trashcan, scattering trash all around and on top of her. 

I quickly stopped my bike and ran to her. She was sitting there, covered in trash from the trash can, pouting. As I stood over her, and saw her covered in trash, I almost laughed. “Stop! It’s really not funny” she sniffled, though she now seemed a little happier. 

“I've bin waiting for this to happen” I joke, hoping to make her laugh.

“It's really not that funny” she snorts while giggling.

 “Yeah, well you’re still laughing” I argue. As she struggles to her feet, I realize I should probably help her. As I move to put her arm around my shoulder, she shoves me off. 

“I don't need your help, butthead” she says, crossing her arms and stares at me with her lips pursed. 

“Sorry, man, chill.” I say, not really understanding why she didn't want help. 

“I got worse when I first started playing volleyball, it's just a little scrape on my knee. It’ll heal” 

"Ok "I mumbled, feeling a little stupid.

As we walked home, we talked about silly things, like how funny she looked covered in trash, or about the people we didn't like at school. Before we parted ways, she threw her arms around me and pressed a quick, fleeting kiss that was gone as soon as it started to my cheek. “Bye Lando! I'll see you tomorrow at school!” she said over her shoulder as she ran home.

“Bye” I yell, after she had already disappeared into the house, my cheeks still red.

She had always been brave in her own way. Whether it was running into a trash can then getting back up with a skinned knee and no tears, or hiding her fears behind that stubborn smile of hers, she never changed. She was always the same, brave girl I had known since I was a kid. I wish I had known then how much that bravery would change the course of our friendship.

Age, 12  Grade 7.

The ferris wheel creaked more and more the higher up it went, carrying us higher, and higher into the night sky. Below we could see the rest of the fair, all the people enjoying themselves just like we are.

Her posture was slumped, and she was practically shaking on the little metal bench that lines the side of the carriage.

“Are you scared?” I ask. This wasn't a very normal occurrence, and I was honestly a little surprised. 

“What? Me? No! Of course not. I don't get scared” she responded, her voice shaky, and honestly not very convincing. 

“Hey, it's okay if you are scared. We all have things we are scared of; it doesn't make you weak.” I say in a soft tone, understanding when to tease and when to be comforting. 

“I'm not scared.”

“Yeah? Good, me neither. Honestly, it's really nice.”

“Nice?”

“Yeah. It’s really nice being up here.”

“I guess it is pretty nice.”

“It's really pretty,” I say with a sigh.

“It is,” she responds with an airy voice.

Little did I know that while I was staring at the sky, she was looking at me.

Ever since that night on the ferris wheel, I had developed a liking for stars. She learned more about stars for me, though I didn't know that then. I thought it was just a coincidence, not something carefully planned. Ever since then, we would spend nights under the stars together, gazing upwards.

Age, 15. Grade 9.

“And that one’s named Altair” she said, pointing up at the brightest star in the sky.

“How do you know this?” I ask while chuckling.

“I learned it when I was in 8th grade for my science fair project. I won.”

“I know, you’ve only told me like a million times.”

“I have not!”

“Uh, yes you have.”

“Excuse yo- wow, it's like, really cold.”

“Here,” I say, shrugging my sweatshirt off. “Take it.”

“No, it's fine really. I don't need it, I’m fine.”

“If you don't take it, I’m actually gonna go insane!”

“Fine” she huffed, sticking her tongue out at me. “Thank you.” she mumbled.

“You're welcome.”

“Lando?”

“Yeah?”

“We'll always be best friends, right?”

“Of course we will. No matter what.”

“No matter what.”

Back then, No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep. Before our future became closer and closer, before I found out she would be going to Yale. No matter what seemed like an easy promise to keep under the soft lighting of the stars, but under the fluorescent lights in the highschool hallways, and the pressure from the guys, the promise broke apart. 

“Hey Lan!” she exclaims, coming up to me “Hey,” I respond. “Where are your glasses?” I ask. She has always loved her glasses. She always said it gave her more personality, though I disagree. She has plenty of personality already. 

“Oh, I just switched to contacts for volleyball! It's too impractical to have to play without being able to see, ya know? Do you like them?” I actually think that she looks stunning with or without glasses, but since my friends from the soccer team are with me, I just say 

“ I dunno man, it kinda makes your eyes look too close together.” I feel absolutely terrible as I practically see her deflate. Her normally radiant smile disappears, her shoulders begin to tremble, and her eyes go glassy. At first, she didn't say anything. I could practically see her brain thinking of ways to respond. She was trying to act relaxed about it, but I knew her well. She doesn't do relaxed about these types of things.

 I hear the boys snickering from behind me, making stupid comments about how “he is so right” and “how can she not see that herself?” and “why does she talk so much?”. I'm actually about to turn around and tell them to shut up, and that I am the only one allowed to tease her like that, but before I can, she says something.

“Oh. Well, uh, I should be going to class. I'll see you later, Lando,” she mumbles. Her normally confident posture seemed impossibly timid and shy. Her posture didn't say ‘see you later’.  It said ‘leave me alone’.

While she walked down the hallway, the only thing I could focus on was the fact that she didn't call me Lan .

The next few days, I tried finding her, though she kept on avoiding me. Finally, I found her sitting outside at the tables, eating her lunch alone.

“Hey” I greet softly, sitting down at the table outside. 

“What do you want?” she responded, her tone sharp. She was wearing her glasses again.

“I wanted to apologize for what I said on Tuesday.” I say, barely audible.

“If you're going to say something, say it louder.”

“I wanted to apologize for what I said.” 

“Do you? Do you really? Or is this just another sick prank you and your friends are playing on me, huh? I stood there and took it in tenth grade, when you made fun of my brother, who, by the way looks up to you, in the cafeteria. I stood there and took it in eleventh grade when you texted everyone from my phone things that I would never, ever say about someone and especially TO someone, posted things on instagram that I would NEVER post, and then humiliated me by making me think that you were seriously hurt, then jump up and say “it's a prank” after i started crying? I even stood there and took it when you told me that my eyes were too close together! The one thing you know I'm insecure about, and you make fun of it? You’ve changed Lando! You and your stupid friends have made high school horrible for me! And even though you've been rude, and you've been mean, and you've in general been a nightmare to be around, I'm still in love with you, and I have been for the last 10 years! And I'm done with this! I will not, will not sit here and let you bully me because I’m your ‘best friend’! I stayed your friend because I thought you would notice me! I thought you would realize, but you didn't! And I’m done waiting, okay? I’m done. Bye, Lando.”

By now, she was crying. Before I could respond to her and apologize, I hear laughing and jeering coming from behind me. I turn around and march over to where the boys are standing. They chuckle upon seeing me, and I absolutely lose it.

“Are you guys actually stupid? You made me lose the most important thing in my life, because you ‘thought it would be funny’? She is worth more than you guys will ever be. She was a better friend, a better athlete, but most importantly, a better person than you guys! I’m done with y’all.” 

I turn back to where she was standing, but she's not there anymore.

The next few days, I look for her. I see her a couple of times, but she always manages to avoid me. 

One night, as I’m packing for college, I hear someone knocking on the front door.

I run down the stairs, thinking it’s the pizza I ordered for me and my sister, but it’s not. It’s her.

“Uhm, I just wanted to return this.” she says, handing me my sweatshirt that i gave to her 3 years ago. “I just thought I should return it before I leave for Yale.”

“When do you leave?” I ask, fearing the answer.

“Tomorrow.” 

The second I hear that word, my world stops. I hazily thank her for bringing the sweatshirt back, then slam the door. I vaguely remember stumbling up the stairs, and sitting down on my bed, my mind running a thousand miles a minute.

 I’m going to have to live without the person who was there for me at every problem, at every bad game, at every milestone in my life, and I lost her because of my own mistakes. I lost her because I let those stupid kids influence my decisions. I lost her because I didn't know how to communicate my feelings. And now, I’ll never get her back.

I was right. I never got her back. And deep down inside, I knew I was never going to get her back. I knew this when I met Emma. I knew this when I proposed to Emma. I knew this when I invited her to our wedding. But that truly, did not prepare me for when I saw her.

“And do you, Lando Norris, take Emma Sand to be your lawfully wedded wife, to have and to hold from this day forward, for better or for worse, for richer or for poorer, in sickness and in health, to love and cherish till death do you part? ” asked the priest, his voice echoing through the church that held all of our friends and loved ones. 

“ I do.” 

And then, out of the corner of my eye, I see her, wiping a tear from the corner of her eye. After years of knowing her,  I could almost hear her thinking ‘that should have been me.’

And I feel horrible and disgusting and gross thinking this on my wedding day, but I'm inclined to agree. It should have been her. And it would have been, if not for my own stupidity.

And seeing her, brought me right back to all those years ago. And made me wonder; what happened to ‘no matter what.’

[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.”

[foreverisntenough]

-YOU’RE MINE -

Summary: While you daydreamed about his face an ocean apart, he had no idea what yours was about to do to him. With a twist of fate and the heat of summer, a new relationship would completely ransack his heart - Everyday heavy with the thought of one another, neither of you were going to let the unexpected love of your life go. You were going to be his, you were his, and you were going to stay his.

Warnings: This series will contain fluff, suggestive, smut love bombing, little sad, and kind of angst- not sure what else really… if i miss anything please lmk!

Note: I hope you like it! There will definitely be more parts (don’t know how many just yet though.)

INDEX

Chapter 16 - ‘You’re Mine’

(This chapter feels long and is exaggerated but what isn’t about the whole series.)

It was another match day. It was raining as usual and you sat in your kitchen gathering things before Marcel was set to pick you up from your house. You two had gotten really close, you spent so much time together over the years. You joked that you spent more time with him than you did Trent but the hours you spent in bed with Trent probably tipped the scales in his favor. You were together just about every match and had developed a little routine. You could technically drive in the UK with your US license for now. In the next year though you’d have to take an actual UK driving test if you wanted a real license which you were planning on doing but we’re putting off so your boyfriend's little brother drove you around. You two would go to a particular coffee shop you both liked every home game, it felt comfortable but when you went in today something felt off.

“I know I sound crazy... but do you feel like people are looking at us?” You hushly asked Marcel waiting in the queue.

“I am the best looking brother, it happens, people know…” he goaded, staring ahead debating if he wanted to venture away from his usual order.

“Humble too… but no, seriously.” You quipped back.

“Erm… “ he looked around the place assessing if anything was different, and it did feel different. “Now that you mention it, maybe a little… Don’t worry about it.” He tried to reassure you but put his hand on your shoulder moving you in front of him in the queue just in case. The Alexander-Arnold’s kept a low profile but they were known in Liverpool, when the boys walked in anywhere it was noted. The three brothers, obviously Trent, but all three really felt inclined to make sure you were okay. You weren’t actively trying to keep the relationship under wraps but your presence alone over time caused people to take more and more of an interest in Trent’s personal life and they were doing anything to get some insight. The uptick in curiosity was apparent to his family as it had changed from what they had been used to and it now was involving someone else; you.

When you were next in line the barista’s jaw slacked a little recognizing Marcel. You put your phone on the counter mindlessly before ordering and her eyes glanced down at your screen. Your background was a photo of Trent picking you up after a match, legs wrapped around him, still in his full kit, kissing. Her eyes widened, putting all the pieces together that the ‘mystery girl’ she and the whole city, country had seen, still unidentified in posts about Trent’s relationship, was in front of her and 100% in a serious one with Trent.

Marcel stopped the awkward encounter in its tracks interrupting it to place his order. When you got your drinks he trailed behind you making sure no one was going to bother you. Finally back in the car, relieved and back to normal banter with Marce, you got an abrupt call from Trent.

“Hi baby,” you cooed with a silly smile, answering excitedly to hear his voice.

“Can you do me a favor, beautiful?” His words came fast and he sounded a little stressed. You told him you would and he calmed hearing you and thanked you mushily with a few ‘I love yous’ before he even got to the actual task. Marcel rolled his eyes, able to overhear the excessively affectionate conversation.

“Could you bring me my headphones? I think I left them at home. I don’t know where. They aren’t here. I need them. I need them before the match.” He was panicking at the thought of shaking up his usual routine.

“Course, T. It’ll be fine. I’ll get them and be there soon.” You reassured him.

“Nah, it’s not like I’m the one actually really going to be doing this or anything..” Marcel yelled for Trent to hear. Trent knew you wouldn’t say no to helping him and Marcel wouldn’t say no to helping you so it was a chain of coercion. Trent was at the hotel with the team before the game, his car parked at Anfield already so even if he was allowed to leave, which he wasn’t, he couldn’t go get his headphones himself.

When you arrived at the hotel, security had to let your car through barricades. There were hundreds of fans surrounding the gates of the hotel knowing it was where the squad gathered every match. Trent met you and Marcel down in the lobby. It was rare for you to see him on match days so this favor turned out to be a pleasant one. Marcel kept his hand on your back from the car to the front entrance. His frame blocking yours from the fans. Trent greeted you both getting his headphones and the camera shutters were clattering outside. Trent dapped up Marcel as he wished him good luck. It was sincere but incredibly bro-y. Your interaction couldn’t have been more opposite. The crowd outside’s view was skewed, blocked by trees, a pillar in the hotel, other people in the lobby, but some of the onlookers were adamant to see what was happening, recognizing his brother and spotting Trent appear inside. Trent pulled you into his chest placing a kiss on your forehead whispering in your ear furthest away from the doors so no one could make out what he was saying but it was all being captured. He couldn’t help himself as his hands slid from holding your lower back while you three talked quickly to slip down to palm and squeeze your ass. You left with a kiss to his cheek and a tight hug before Marcel swung his arm around you to walk to the car leaving.

Once Trent had his headphones the team could proceed with preparations and went for their pre-match walk around the city. A little boy stood patiently on a corner holding a number 66 shirt so Trent stopped mid stride talking with Dom to sign a little boy's jersey.

“All good mate?” Trent cooed, taking the shirt from him.

“Do you have a missus?” The little boy bluntly asked.

“Uhh..” Trent was shocked by the question, his brows furrowed and he pulled away before laughing it off. Dom squeezed Trent’s shoulder at the direct and funny question.

“What’dya need to know what I’m up to off the pitch for?” Trent asked teasing, diverting from his lack of answer.

“I think you should date my sister so we could be related, you could be my brother.” The little boy's logic was wild but it was cute and endearing.

“I’m happy at the minute lad but thanks for thinking of me. You’re a big fan, yeah?” The little boy nodded eagerly. “We’re bros then. Reds are family.” Trent bent down and squeezed the little boy's arm, his mum thanked him for stopping before he and Dom walked away. She had captured the sweet encounter on video for her son to remember and posted it to her Twitter tagging him to share how kind Trent had been. The video fell into the abyss before it was spat into the algorithm and started racking up likes. The nice video turned into fuel for a fire that was already brewing on the app.

A Liverpool fan account shared a few videos and photos they’d taken at the hotel as live updates before the match. One particular post read ‘Alexander-Arnold last minute delivery before tonight’s clash’ including a bundle of photos and videos of you, Marcel, and Trent’s interaction. Its original intent was harmless but spiraled quickly when fans became interested in who delivered the item rather than what it was. Tweets and replies were multiplying at a rapid rate in discussion.

‘If we win tonight it’s thanks to another Alexander-Arnold’s assist’

‘What could he really need that badly to hold up the whole team?’

‘If that’s his brothers girl, I’d be throwing hands when Trent gets home’

The tweets were dramatic and exaggerated but the discourse ran wild with the tweet about you being his brother's girl. Simultaneously the heartfelt video with the little boy was generating another discourse about his current relationship status. Accounts were quick to call out Trent’s avoidance in his reply.

‘Wait.. but answer the question. Does he have a missus?’

‘If I was the girl he’s always seen with I’d be screaming’

‘Why didn’t he answer’

There were paralleled conversations about Trent and they both involved you. When the inevitable happened and the discussions merged ‘Alexander-Arnold’ began to trend on Twitter. You were blissfully unaware of it all unfolding going to the stadium. The internet dialogue continued as you entered Anfield with Marcel and Dianne. You were walking down the steps of the open air seats in the box to sit down to watch Liverpool warm-up when someone in an adjacent section took a video when Trent blew a kiss to you. A DM including the video was sent to a Liverpool update account who quickly reshared the message.

‘She’s here tonight btw with his family. Definitely together.’ Definitely not his brother's girl.’ The video featured you leaning on the bar in front of your seats, it panned to Trent’s kiss, then back to you smiling making a heart with your hands down to him. People were desperately just looking for confirmation of the relationship and this video was only feeding the beast.

After another win, you left the stadium with Trent headed back home. Pulling out, the car, as expected, was flooded with camera flashes. The photos quickly uploaded to the continuing Twitter narrative. A storm was brewing and you had no idea. Before, during, after... it was being rubbed in the public’s face you were together but they knew nothing about you.

You weren’t much of a Twitter user but the buzz there had leaked over onto Instagram. You were on your explore page scrolling mindlessly, Trent’s hand holding your other in his lap, when you jolted up seeing a video zooming in on you in the box tonight.

“Oh my god!” You exclaimed in the relatively quiet car.

“You okay?” Trent's eyes widened at you before speaking again, “baby...”

“Just… erm. Someone posted videos of me at the stadium.” You muttered out shocked not looking away from your phone, swiping to only see more photos.

“That’s happened before though, no?” Trent tried to downplay it in hopes it would settle you. You had gone almost two years keeping things private but lately…things had started to get a little out of control.

“Yeah, but this is like… my face. It’s about me. I’ve always just been in the background. People are talking about me… specifically.” You mumbled lost in your phone screen.

“When we get home, I’ll look at it, baby. It’ll be okay. Promise.” He kissed the back of your hand continuing to drive. As you had discussed you weren’t hiding the relationship and people were bound to talk. People would eventually want more details but your private information wasn’t up for grabs. This was the first time though there was direct focus on you.

“Did you still want to go out tonight?” Trent was hesitant with his question seeing your obvious discomfort with the online attention but he needed to know. It wasn’t often players, specifically Trent, went out after games. There was a break in the fixtures though and some of the boys wanted to grab a dinner together tonight thanks to the earlier kick off time.

“No, it's fine, T…” you said, leaning your head onto his shoulder looking for some solace. He pulled into your driveway and seeing the warm light emitting from your front door made you feel a little better. It was your little sanctuary tucked away in suburbia, just you and him together. That didn’t last long though when another set of car lights came beaming down the driveway.

“Think Dom came straight here. You gonna be okay, baby?” He spoke, pulling you off him to look into your eyes trying to see an honest answer. You could only nod. When you got into the house, Trent and Dom went straight into the kitchen, you told them you had to go upstairs to change, trying to get a moment alone. The videos of you today had accumulated thousands of comments about you. You scrolled what felt like endlessly until your phone was plucked from your hands.

‘Erm… who the fuck is that?’

‘He could do so much better’

‘TAA scoring on and off the pitch’

‘Ngl not good enough for me’

‘Honestly, gross.’

“Stop…” Trent had come upstairs. He knew you well, he knew you were running away trying to hide being upset from him. He snatched the phone away from you sitting on the edge of the bed to stop the flood of self doubt you were feeling. “Do you know who I’m looking for in the stands every match?” You didn’t respond just looking blankly around the room. “Hmm?” His hand was a little harsh, grabbing your chin to turn it up to him.

“Me..” you quietly said, rolling your eyes at his persistence to make you feel better.

“And who are you looking at..” he cooed, still holding your chin. His thumb caressing under it.

“You… T.. stop.” You pulled away getting actually annoyed with him.

“Baby…me and you. That’s it. Why do you care about people who we aren’t even aware are there? I’m looking at you, that's what I’m paying attention to.”

“T.. I’m not like you, people talking about me doesn’t just roll off my back.” You quipped standing up. He pulled at your shirt to keep you close.

“C’mere” your body pressed into his. He was tired and a little frustrated, not able to understand how you were feeling. His aggression started to seep through as lust. “Gonna be a good girl? Put something pretty on for me to go out? Hmm?” He was teasing you, his lips pressing to your neck now nipping a little at your skin, pulling a soft moan from you. “Hmm, baby? Let me take you out, show everyone how sexy you are for me?” His hands came to stroke down your thighs squeezing at your legs.

“T, please.” You whimpered.

“Answer me… gonna be a good girl?” His words felt like a drug, your brain had gone hazy, the sensation of his hands and lips on you had intensified.

“Y-yeah, okay baby. I can be a good girl for you tonight.” You whined and felt his cock twitch at your words. He let you initiate a passionate make out. It was mean but he pulled away. He slapped your ass, pressing his lips to yours once more before he walked towards the bathroom. “Hey!” You yelled after him flustered.

“Go on, we’ve got to go soon.” He said looking at you through the mirror with a smug smirk gesturing to the wardrobe.

He went downstairs and you got ready to go. You, Trent, Tyler, Dom, Curtis and a few other friends were going into Manchester for dinner. You came into the living room where the boys were, albeit a little shy after all the online commentary on your appearance. You weren’t sure if Trent told them but the boys were actually incredibly sweet telling you how good you looked for a change instead of the usual jeers. Trent got up to come over to give you a big hug.

“You know how much I love you, baby?” He whispered, lips pressed to your ear. His words sent a shiver up your spine. You just nodded, still feeling the remnants of your confidence being knocked down a few pegs. You sat on the edge of the couch starting to put on your shoes. You opted for a pair that brought back a warm familiar feeling. They were the pair of black heels you wore on your first date with Trent. The ones that wrapped and tied around your ankles. Trent offered to help you tie them so he came over and sat on the floor in front of you. His face perfectly aligned with your core. You were in a black mini skirt and he smirked at his view of your legs open a little so you didn’t close them. He just wrapped the leather strings around your ankles slowly, eyes fixed on the little material covering you. When he was done his hands stayed on you gliding up your legs as he stood up. Hands going up your calves, over your knee, gripping your thighs harshly to push himself off the floor. He leaned towards your face, you expected a kiss but he went straight to your ear biting it.

“You're so hot, you're gonna lemme take those panties off you later?” He whispered. Trent was trying to build your confidence back up and to be honest it was working. Having a man at your feet, staring at your panties asking to take them off later had you smug.

With your mini skirt, you wore a long sleeve sheer black top with a black bra underneath showing it intentionally. You actually really liked the look when you caught a glance again in a mirror in the foyer as you were leaving, setting the alarm to the house. While you typed in a code Trent’s hand crept under your skirt to squeeze your ass but he managed to pull the material up completely exposing your butt too.

“T!” You exclaimed, very aware your whole ass was out.

“Relax… everyone’s outside. Just f’me yeah?” He said in a sexy voice and as you scanned the room noting you were actually alone and gave in to his persuasion.

“So needy… gonna be like this all night?” Your eyes feigned innocence. You grabbed his hands and guided them around you to place them over your exposed ass. Once his hands were where you wanted them you took your hands off his and slid them over his chest slowly upward until you got to his neck wrapping your hands around it, digging your nails behind his head. You hummed when he started to massage your ass, your bodies coming to press together. Your faces were so close. Your glossy lips kissed his slow when you gently pushed your hips into him. He groaned a little at the movement only to squeeze you tighter and push a harder kiss back to you. He pinned you up against the entry way console, picking you up to sit atop it, him coming to stand in between your legs. His hands slid under your top up your back pulling your body into his. You moaned in his mouth at the feeling. If people weren’t waiting for you this would’ve ended up differently but instead you pulled away. His hands coming off your back up to your cheeks.

“All night.” He finally answered your question and it had you giddy. You both were incredibly aroused leaving the house so it was bound to be an interesting night. You closed the front door and got into some luxury car service completely lost on you, your focus was on Trent’s hand around your waist squeezing you, his thumb tucked in the waistband of your skirt. The boys had to kind of travel separately and enter stagnantly to avoid complete chaos. So you went in one car with Trent, Dom and Tyler. It was filled with a lot of noise, the boys all yelling about nonsense but it all sounded like static, the whole world blurred around you but Trent. You were lost in a moment gazing at him wondering how he got to be so perfect. He had pulled your legs over his. He wrapped one arm around your back, the other holding onto your thigh, while your hands played with the fingers of his hand on you. His body was so warm. He was so beautiful. You could stay in a trance like this for hours watching his lips move, his eyes light up, dimples appearing in big smiles and then disappearing but it was cut when the car came to a stop in front of the restaurant.

“Let’s go eat, beautiful,” Trent said, nuzzling his head into your neck playfully.

When the driver opened the door the all too familiar white barrage of flashes returned. Trent grabbed your hands and squeezed them. “Me and you.” He whispered before helping you out of the car. He held your hand tightly walking into the restaurant. When the door of the restaurant closed behind you he grabbed your hips swiftly pressing his body to your back behind you. His lips pressing kisses to your neck. “Okay?”

“With you… yeah. Always.” You said hands snaking up to hold his face for a quick kiss. Even in moments of distress he made you feel at ease, always sure to check on you. Unfortunately, the restaurant wasn’t that much calmer than the scene outside. This was a pretty popular spot that footballers seemed to frequent, it was expensive, it had good security, you guessed good food but it was just more so known as a domain of theirs hence the photographers outside anticipating the arrival of a few if not more players. It was a big place. Your table was a large one for all of you tucked behind an ornamental tree providing a screen from the front of the restaurant and potential for outside photos. You slid onto a bench Trent coming to sit absurdly and unnecessarily close to you but you liked it that way. Per the restaurant's standards an incredibly attractive girl came over to introduce herself as the server. She was very nice and returned promptly with bottles of liquor ‘on the house.’ It was ludicrous these boys were given so much for free given how much they made but you were just along for the ride and weren’t going to complain having a seat at the table.

After receiving the menus, Trent held up his childishly high to cover your faces to kiss you. His hand slipped around your waist gripping the material of your skirt. You couldn’t not smile but pushed the menu down, pulling away from the kiss to lean your head onto his shoulder, attempting to move your body even closer into his.

It wasn’t long after you had ordered that a group of younger girls came up to the table giggling. You understood the infatuation. They stumbled over words but eventually got some out.

“H-hi..” the first girl giggled, hiding behind her friend. Dom's eyes widened watching the girls lose all common sense when he looked at them. When they pushed closer to the table Trent’s hand possessively came to grip your thigh tight and high pushing your skirt up a little where you had to adjust it not to show your panties.

“Okay?” Curtis asked the group not really caring for their answer but just wanted to see them squirm seeing as this was a little amusing. You looked at Tyler shaking your head at them entertaining the girls falling over them. The girls weren’t all that young though after getting a better look. They probably were close to Curtis and Doms age so you gave them the benefit of the doubt maybe they had drank too much.

“Could we get a quick picture?” One girl finally got to what they came over for. Tyler almost interjected seeing as the boys were just trying to eat dinner with friends but let it play out. When Dom confirmed they could he stood up and walked around the table next to the girls who continued in their fit of giggles. At this point you deduced they were definitely drunk but you thought it was funny and a little sweet, not something you couldn’t see you and your friends doing. Definitely the giddy demeanor around boys who looked like they did. Trent hadn’t really paid mind to the situation, he acknowledged them of course, he’d never be that rude but he didn’t say much.

“I can take it if you want,” you smiled offering. Tyler looked at you with a ‘thank you’ expression because this interaction seemed to be dragging, taking a long time with the intermittent giggles.

“Oh my goodddd! Thank youu sooo much!” The girl was definitely slurring. Dom placed himself between Trent and Curtis still in their seats with the girls nestled in between them. Trent slid over on the bench some for the picture but kept his hand on your leg, just moving it down as he got further away. You took a couple photos for them.

“Can you take one with flash..?” One girl called out. You said sure. The light from the phone's camera though was like an alarm bell for people in the restaurant to register who was at the table.

“Here ya go” you said kindly, holding the phone out for the girls to grab after the photos. Trent pulled himself back over to you. You smiled at him softly. He returned the smile, gaze now locked back on you; his hand coming to brush up your spine to your neck, gripping it gently, stroking his thumb over your skin.

“Thank you! Sorry and you’re…?” one girl questioned who you were as she reached for the phone curiously watching Trent’s hands all over you.

“My girlfriend,” Trent answered for you. It was definitely short but he turned toward them with a smile.

“Oh! Omg she’s actually your girlfriend!” They all kind of murmured together simultaneously. Their tone and look of connecting all the dots in their head was enough for Tyler. He nodded at someone who worked at the restaurant who swiftly came over to the table and asked the girls to go on their way. The table continued on with the conversation you were in before like nothing happened but you definitely didn’t miss one of the girls sitting back at her table taking a photo of what looked to be directly of you.

You sat through the meal happily, probably having a drink too many but you blamed it on the bottles that kept appearing. Trent kept a hand on you at all times. You shared a quick kiss and nuzzled into him as you listened to Curtis tell a chaotic story. You were so comfortable under the influence of Trent and Tequila it was almost lost on you you were out in public for the moment. A table across from you, one behind Curtis, was pointing at Dom so you watched them talk about him, in a literal sense, behind his back. It was after that when you felt like you got a bit paranoid. It felt like there were eyes on you. You could feel the text being sent at the table next to yours ‘omg Liverpool players sitting next to us at the restaurant. Trent Alexander-Arnold is all over that girl… not that pretty in person imo’

Dinner wrapped up and your paranoia was broken in half when you heard Trent’s voice above you.

“Ready?” Trent said, holding out his hand for you to stand up.

“Thank youuu” you cooed while holding onto it, bringing his arm around your waist once you were fully standing up in front of him. Your faces pressed close together your noses brushing against each other saying mushy things till he placed a kiss on your lips. While you two stood there in your own world a man stopped Dom and Curtis for a photo. They graciously took one. The man posted the photo right away to instagram in excitement tagging both boys. The photo picked up more traction than a usual fan photo though when you and Trent were lit by the flash kissing holding onto each other in a way that could only be described as ‘in love.’ It was probably the first picture, a zoomed in, cropped, low res one, but the first proper one people had been able to see you were a couple. It was a quiet answer to all the questions; you weren’t with Marcel, you weren’t a friend of the family; you were most definitely Trent’s girl. The storm began to brew again online.

You left the restaurant hand in hand with Trent, the white flashes filled your eyes again, leading you to the car. He helped you get in but stood close to your body to block the view in case your short skirt slipped too high. You held onto his hand and stepped in dragging him in after you giggling a little as he stumbled in. He sat in the back seat and pulled you onto his lap. You felt like you could hide a little tucked in the back of the car waiting for the others to walk out so you grabbed at his face to give him a kiss but your body so close to his mixed with the drinks from dinner the innocent peck snowballed into a messy makeout. The cameras continued to shutter when Dom exited the restaurant walking to get into your car. The bright lights illuminated the interior of the car, you were unaware that the cameras could see inside while memory cards of media outlet’s press cameras filled with images of you on top of Trent passionately kissing, hands all over each other. The steamy moment only broken up because Dom opened the door to get in.

It was a night off for the boys, drinks were flowing, and you started to really let go of what people might be thinking of seeing when you were with Trent. No camera or headline could outweigh the love in Trent’s eyes when you looked at him. The car pulled away from the restaurant and drove a short distance to a club that had invited them to have a private table. With your newly developed detachment from the attention, Trent’s hands on you didn’t feel like a form of reassurance but a confirmation that it truly was just you and him. The ride to the club felt much more free, you could still feel the warmth from the cameras but it didn’t ignite your anxiety the same. You didn’t care, you were a little drunk on tequila and really drunk on love when you finally arrived.

It was like a familiar replay of entering the restaurant but as you exited the car to enter the club you felt more prepared to ignore the barrage. You were a little braver facing the lights. Trent held your hand and you squeezed his, your other hand gripped his forearm while he kept his head down guiding the two of you inside. You definitely didn’t like it but it’s how it was going to be on nights like this. Once everyone had made it in, security took you to a roped off area. The boys seemed unphased but you watched phones follow the group from the door to the section once they realized who was walking in. When you got to the section Trent pulled his hand away from yours and wrapped you in a tight hug, swirling you around with a kiss. It was a nice area filled with couches, tables of liquor, lights, the music was loud, and it overlooked a large dance floor but he was acting as if it was a closed off private room. If he was going to be okay with it then so were you.

It was a really fun night. You were drinking a lot more than you should’ve. You knew tomorrow it would seem like terrible logic but right now it was helping you cope with the amount of phones that seemed to be videoing your every move. You were straddling Trent’s lap on a je of the couches when he went to grab a bottle of tequila off the table to make a drink.

“Gimme!” You cooed in his ear taking the bottle of Don Julio 42.

“You want this baby?” Trent held the bottle further away from you just to tease so you whined rolling your lips into a pout. He caved immediately at the sad look that was swept off your face in an instant when you got what you wanted. You took a small swig from the bottle directly and Trent's eyes widened, he shook his head laughing. You leaned into him. You kissed his neck working your way up to his ear. His arms wrapped around your waist tightened. His hands gliding under your shirt. You pressed your lips slow and gently against his ear.

“Wanna taste?” You whispered sitting your core harder down on his lap.

“Mmm depends what of..” he cheekily replied. One hand letting go of you coming to grab your face and pull you in for a kiss then rolled into a messy make out.

“Relax!” Curtis called out from another seat. You couldn’t help but pull away from the kiss laughing. You were the definition of PDA and you were pushing the boundaries. Your one hand slid up the back of Trent’s neck and pulled on his hair to tilt his head back then sliding it to grip around his neck gently. He obliged and you couldn’t suppress the smirk. His arm still wrapped around you, your free one holding the bottle of the tequila poured it slowly into his mouth. It was sexy. A little dripped onto the side of his mouth when you pulled the bottle away so you took the liberty to clean it up with your thumb, brushing over his plump lips.

“I love you, baby” he cooed holding your waist tight.

“You’re drunk.” You babbled back earning another kiss from him making you beam.

“If I’m drunk.. then you’re very drunk, beautiful, but that doesn’t mean I love you any less.” He sealed his words one more kiss and you hummed in satisfaction. All you could taste was tequila and desire for him. It was like your body was wired to function solely off his approval.

The night continued as expected, drinks, more drinks, Trent refusing to dance, more drinks, and a lot of laughs. Your section was next to another private one that had later filled with a ton of girls in white all celebrating a hen do. It looked fun and made you miss your girlfriends back at home a little but a squeeze of your ass brought you back to the current moment remembering how happy you were to be here with Trent. You stood in front of him and nuzzled back into him. One of the girls from the hen do gestured over to ask if Dom, Curtis, and Trent wouldn’t mind taking a photo with the bride to be. Of course they didn’t, it wasn’t a big ask.

“I’ll be right back, pretty girl” Trent whispered in your ear before placing a kiss on your temple. The girl waiting to show them to her area watched your interaction like she had seen a ghost, shocked that all the swirling rumors over the past year were right, some wrong, it didn’t matter you definitely were with Trent.

They took what felt like a lot of photos. This was normal though, this was your normal now. People were excited to meet Liverpool players and if a photo was going to make a fan happy then that’s what the boys were going to do. It was a little ask but made a big impact.

You stood in your section trying not to watch in an attempt to not look overly protective or jealous. Tyler of course saw right through your facade.

“It’s fine” he confirmed to you, coming to grab both your shoulders from behind you.

“It doesn’t bother me, I just want to know what they say to him.” You told his brother honestly. It did make you wonder often but you never asked Trent because it was so common for him you didn’t want to make a big deal out of a regularity.

“You’re so hot, leave your girlfriend and come home with me’” he poked fun at your worry and impersonated how you were imagining these girls spoke to your boyfriend. “Y/N… you know they don’t say shit. If anything it’s a ‘my brother, dad, boyfriend, uncle, whoever loves you’ they just want a picture to show people they met him.” His actual opinion made you a little less tense but you still tried to glance over at the group.

“I know, it’s a me thing... I don’t know, it still gets to me.” You mumbled not really saying anything, a little embarrassed by your lack of confidence in the interactions.

“It is a ‘you’ thing. You two are end game, trust me… he’s definitely not thinking about anyone else.” Tyler told you, finally releasing your shoulders after one last tight squeeze. He and Trent had had many conversations about the trajectory of your relationship; ultimately what Trent wanted out of it and when he wanted it but you didn’t know he had these finite plans. You two just kept an open dialogue about the future with no real decisions made yet so Tyler bit his drunk tongue from sharing Trent’s plans for you.

“You don’t think there’s like an agenda there?” You asked once more as you watched a girl squeeze Trent’s arm in a photo.

“Yes, Y/N. One of those girls who met him just now, he’ll spend the next week not leaving a hotel, they’ll date, he’ll fly her around the world to see him, become so obsessed with her he makes them move in with our mum to then buy a house together all to just throw it to the wind…” He trailed off with the over exaggerated response mimicking a rendition of your and Trent’s story.

“Okay, okay! I get it. Thank you for the belittlement” you slapped at his chest starting to laugh at the ridiculousness of your worry spelled out for you.

“Believe or not… not all 10 million people that follow him want to have sex with him. In my opinion I’m amazed even one does, you’re insane to me but hey… each their own. If you want to voluntarily put up with his moody ass go ahead.” He said half joking half serious.

“He’s not that moody!” you tried to defend him but got lost when you caught Trent staring at you while he took another photo. He winked and your heart fluttered.

“Yeah… okay.” Tyler quipped, rolling his eyes. Tyler obviously knew Trent well and had a lot longer than you did and he was right, Trent could be dramatic but it was cute to you. You loved him for every quirk. Every little annoying thing to others was alternatively cute to you.

“One more!” The bride to be yelled while posing for another photo with the boys. “My fiancé is going to go mad when he sees this… thank you lot so much! Obviously I’m taken,” pausing to show the boys her ring, “but I have lots of cute friends!!!!” She squealed, pointing back to the girls they had just finished taking photos with. “Are you boys taken?” She quizzed. Dom just smiled, Curtis confirmed he was off the market leaving Trent. The girl looked at him but he wasn’t paying attention he was looking at you.

“Bro! She asked if you’ve got a girl?” Curtis snapped nudging Trent knowing the answer. He didn’t really turn back to the conversation he was itching to get back to you. He wanted to know what you and Tyler were talking about, he was definitely a little drunk and you looked so good.

“Yeah, me girlfriends over there.” He said practically drooling over the sight of you.

“Lucky girl!” The bride to be cooed. She was sweet, the boys said their goodbyes and wished them a good night etc.. you were still in Tyler’s ear yapping about something unrelated when Trent’s hands ran up and down your arms, his lips coming to your neck. It sent shivers down your spine.

“Hi” you cooed struggling to keep your voice steady trying to keep your gaze on Tyler to seem unphased by Trent’s arrival but he wasn’t interested in assisting you and Trent’s games, leaving you.

“I missed you,” Trent whispered, taking another step to press his chest up against your back. His hand snaked around your waist. Your heart began fluttering again. Any semblance of control to look composed was slipping away feeling the warmth of his skin.

“You were only over there, T.” You tried to play it off as if you weren’t eagerly awaiting for his return.

“You didn’t miss me?” His plump lips rolled into a pout. “Not even a little, baby?” His hands laced together tighter as you spin around to turn in his embrace to face him. You gave him a pretend unimpressed look.

“Don’t give me this.” You said pulling his bottom lip a little with your fingers. “So needy.” You teased, letting go of it, before pressing your lips to his. He hummed in contentment but you pulled away too soon for his liking so his hum turned into a whine. “I like when you need me, T.”

“I always need you” his hands sliding down to grip your ass over your skirt. “You should come home with me” he cooed, pretending like you were just meeting, like this would be a hookup.

“I don’t really know you though, do I?” You tried not to giggle as you questioned back like he once said to you on the street in New York.

“C‘mere beautiful.” He said pulling you closer pressing into his body. “I wanna finish what we started earlier.” You nodded your head ready for Trent to take you home. The way his hands felt on your skin made you dizzy. You felt so beautiful and desirable because of all the people here, the options he had, he still wanted you so bad. You had security escort you out when you decided to leave the rest of the group because you simply couldn’t take the teasing anymore and needed to get back home.

What you didn’t realize is that every finger you laid on each other during your time at the club was being videoed or photographed. People who were fans that knew he had a ‘mystery girl’ and people who thought they were just witnessing Trent hook up with a random girl were just glued.

You left the club and the familiar lights were back but you were much more intoxicated than when you walked in. Your shirt was no longer neatly tucked into your skirt; it had been bunched up from Trent pulling at it. Your lipgloss was on his skin, the color smeared a little on yours. You walked out first but Trent was right behind you, his arms wrapped completely around your frame, his face pressed into the back of your neck. Having him so close seemed to lower the pressure of the spotlight but it only heightened the noise around your relationship.

Trent wrapped his arms around you protectively, helping you into the car to be driven home. You slid in after Trent opened the door for you and he quickly followed.

It was a bad decision but you two were pretty drunk and you couldn’t help it. You needed him, he needed you. There was a divider between the driver and the back so there was some discretion but not enough to deem the ride’s actions acceptable. Trent’s hand initially was suggestively but innocently on your thigh but minute by minute it seemed to get closer and closer to your core. Your back was arched at the proximity alone. The intoxicating scent of him filled the car and made your heart race faster.

You looked at him with doe eyes, tugging his hand when he kept swiping his fingers closer to where you wanted only for them to drift back down.

“What do you need, baby?” He laughed at your needy expression. He was teasing you and he loved it. Alone in the back of this car felt like a private oasis from a night where you felt a million eyes on you and you couldn’t wait to take advantage of that million dwindling down to just his two.

Finally, after what felt like tortuous hours, actually mere minutes, he snaked his hand under your skirt stroking his fingers over your covered sensitive clit. Your body jolted finally feeling his touch. He moved your panties to the side and he started to rub your clit casually, he was so nonchalant leaning his face into your neck pressing kisses to your burning skin while you were trying to bite back moans silencing your actions. You were whimpering, squeezing his leg trying to remain calm but he was tracing soft circles over your clit making your pussy clench and gush. He dragged his fingers through your folds, humming content at your warmth before dipping two inside.

“So wet,” pushing his fingers in further, curling them, your slick running down his hands, you were trying not to scream from the pleasure.

“Want more, T” you were begging, pulling him into a filthy kiss. It was messy, his tongue in your mouth had you almost unable to hear the squelching sounds of your sopping pussy getting loud. This wasn’t discreet anymore. You were getting closer to the edge and he knew, the smirk on his face grew. You were overcome with a blinding pleasure fluttering around his fingers, before he slowed down. Trent gently pulled his fingers out and licked them clean. You looked at him with clear desperation. Your legs were glistening coated in a thin layer of your sweat under the motorway lights.

“Almost home.” He cooed, pressing a kiss to your temple. You relaxed into his body, spent, making him giggle so he pressed another kiss to the top of your head.

Before you could make it through the front door Trent had grabbed your waist pulling you away. He proceeded to throw you over his shoulder and carried you directly into the house, up the stairs, and straight to your bed before dropping your body onto it.

“Raise your arms in the air, baby” he said, pulling at your top as you sat up. “Gonna be a good girl for me?”

“Mmhm” you couldn’t get out any words you were desperate for him.

“Fuck, you have the prettiest tits, baby.” He groaned now pushing his face against them, licking, sucking, biting on your sensitive skin. You couldn’t compose yourself. You were giggling at the sensation. You were so focused on him. When he pulled away, his plump, pink, beautiful lips were just begging for a kiss so you pulled him down on top of you. Your kiss spiraled into breathy moans, the rest of your clothes peeling off, your bodies pressing into each other, your hands grabbing anything. You were absolutely soaked, he was impossibly hard. The kiss was a mess, you pushed your body further into his. He tasted like heaven, tequila and black cherry. The memory of your warm wet pussy was seared to the front of Trent’s brain, the thought of being inside made his cock twitch.

“Oh my god” you moaned, feeling him twitch as he pulled away to bite the sensitive skin on your neck, sucking harshly. His teeth grazed against your skin. A whimper fell from your lips as you rolled your hips into him. The things coming out your mouths varied form insanely lude to the most romantic things you’d ever heard. You were so in love with him, all of him. The alcohol blurred your vision, it felt so good, you couldn’t really process what was going on other than the sensation of his skin on yours, you were saying things you probably shouldn’t, things you needed to have proper discussions about, but you couldn’t stop them and neither could he.

Trent thought he was going to black out from how hard he was. He needed to fuck you now, he couldn’t even manage foreplay. This kiss, your body, it was going to break him. He flipped you over harshly. He grabbed your waist pulling you back to him.

“Please,T” You whined, arching your back begging for him to fuck you. His brain was short circuiting. You had drunk sex plenty of times but something about this was different. It was a familiar feeling, the one like he needed to take care of you, that you were his. He couldn’t work out what triggered him to be so possessive when you were with him the whole night but he felt compelled to fuck you so roughly as if you had done something wrong.

“You’re the hottest girl I’ve ever seen in my life” Trent cooed his hand coming to pull your hip the other stroking his cock. He dragged the tip of it down your ass, tracing it over your skin, smearing pre-cum all over you before he aggressively spread your ass to rub his cock up and down your pussy. “Oh my- Fuck.” You were soaked, you couldn’t take the waiting anymore. Trent wanted to fuck you so hard you were seeing stars but his brain did a 180 seeing your face turn a little. He could see a blush hue over your cheeks, a little pout and he just fell apart. You pulled your body up to his pressing your back to his chest because he was taking so long. He wasn’t going to do that now, he wanted to make love to you. you’re his baby, his best friend, the love of his life, he needed to be gentle with you. You leaned your head back onto his shoulder, your hand coming to grab his throbbing cock to tell him he needed to hurry up. He groaned when the other hand grabbed onto his hair and pulled.

It felt like absolute heaven when he slowly eased his cock inside you. You were so wet, warm, your walls squeezed his huge cock encasing him in warm velvet. He presses his lips into your hair quieting his moans as he pulled in and out of you. He kept his face buried there, eyes shut, relishing in the feeling of you.

“I love you” his words were muffled as your ass recoiled against his cock. You could feel your orgasm building.

“T...” you whined. “I-I love you” you could barely breathe. His gentle warm and comforting hands guiding you through the movements. It was so languid it felt like it was in slow motion. You had never felt so good in your life. You couldn’t stop yours eyes from trying to flutter closed.

“You’re so close aren’t you, baby? I can feel it.” He moaned as you squeezed him tight making it harder for him to pull his cock in and out. He hit a spot he never had before so deep that the invisible rubber band snapped inside you. Your walls pulsated around his cock as you came. Your legs felt like jelly, pleasure radiating through you as Trent continued to bounce you up and down. Your slick ran down your thighs covering his cock and your ass, it was a mess. Everything was a sticky mess and he loved it, he loved you. You thought you blacked out momentarily from the feeling. Tears started streaming down your face. You collapsed onto the bed, feeling so needy and overwhelmed as he continued to fuck you. Trent couldn’t process how you looked as you unraveled, prolonging your orgasm and he continued to hit so deep inside. Even his dirtiest, hottest wet dreams about you could never measure up to the real thing. You were so fucking beautiful to him, your pussy perfect, made just for him, squeezing his cock he knew he wasn’t going to last much longer when he heard you start to speak again.

“Gonna make you a daddy” you moaned being compelled to grind your ass back into his cock.

You both heard it. You couldn’t process what you just heard yourself say, you had no idea where that came from. You felt weird, like you actually meant it. Trent's brain shut off. That was it for him. Something broke. His strokes got harder and faster rapidly. You were so shocked but you knew that telling him to slow down would be pointless. The change in his behavior didn’t go unnoticed so now you were interested in what he thought but your interest was overtaken quickly by your pleasure.

Trent controlled your body and you let him. You liked it this way, he knew you liked it this way. You both felt so fucking good, nothing could ever compare to this feeling. He was so deep inside you that all he could think about was filling you up. He pulled your hair to press your body further into his aggressively. He bit his teeth down into your shoulder, unable to handle the feeling that was approaching. His mind had completely gone when your drunk self decided to push this further.

“Gonna cum inside me, get me pregnant?” You mindlessly whined begging for it.

“Fuck Fu-fuck Y/N, oh my god baby.” He couldn’t breathe. He wanted so badly to keep eyes open but he couldn’t handle the sensation. “Make me a daddy, be a good girl and take all of it f’me” he mumbled when you could feel his load pumping into you filling you past full. Some of his cum leaking out as he continued to thrust into deliriously. “Is this pussy gonna get pregnant for me?" You were on another planet, so you nodded, unable to hear the words he was babbling. The smile that appeared on his face was so genuine he was in utter bliss. He slowed completely, holding you so tight to his chest you couldn’t breathe. You turned your head back to try to see his face. His pupils were completely blown out, getting you pregnant still on the forefront of his brain. His heavy body laid on top of yours and you felt a wave of emotions hit you. Coherent thoughts finally were coming back to Trent and he was in the same boat. Were either of you supposed to acknowledge that you said you wanted to get pregnant? He rolled himself off you laying leading up to the ceiling, his chest heaving. Neither of you said anything but he pulled you to him. He didn’t know what to say but he didn’t want you to feel like he wasn’t with you. Your sweaty bodies stuck together when you nuzzled into his neck, kissing his skin softly. He sighed tilting his head to the side for you to trail more kisses up his neck, your hand coming to scratch gently at the nape of his neck. He broke the silence first.

“I want to wake up with you like this. You look so beautiful just like this,” his hand stroked slowly over your glistening cheek as you finally made eye contact for the first time. He kissed the top of your head.

“Never gonna let you go,” you muffled into his skin, cuddling closer to him. What had just unfolded wasn’t exactly anything you hadn’t heard before but the manner at which you were having sex and the way it was acted on felt like it was a genuine thought. Not some kink, you, he, actually might’ve wanted this and that thought was way too scary to bring up right now. You both could feel the pressure. Trent was trying to figure out the same thing. If either of you had any energy left you would’ve mustered up some courage to talk about this but instead he whispered into your hair a long ramble of words that answered if he wanted this or not. You couldn’t remember how much he drank tonight so you couldn’t tell if he maybe was just drunk. He was promising you the world, telling you all about the perfect life that laid in store for you in the future, gushing over the perfect life you two were living now. The life he depicted for you now was the one that he had already confided in Tyler. Sure, he was buzzed, high on adrenaline, fucked out of his mind, but this wasn’t something he was making up on the spot. You didn’t know any of that but it was true nonetheless.

“My T…” you cooed playing with a little piece of his hair till you fell asleep. Trent practically melted at the way you clung to him, curled up… filled with his cum.

•

Thank you for continuing reading! Comment or message what you think of the chapter / series … 🤍

Next Part - Chapter 17 xx

[ilovebokutokoutaro]

𝓜𝓪𝔂𝓫𝓮

Gojo satoru x reader

Warnings: angst, accident, mentions of surgery, memory loss (um slight?), blood idk? Not proofread, happy ending, mentions of poor mental health, slight suicidal ideation. (Pls tell me if i forgot any)

Overview: having met an accident things are rough on both you and your dear husband. Life is unpredictable and both of you learn slowly that what you have is all that matters.

"thank you, this is me." You smiled, a genuine grateful smile, the only one you remembered how to do anymore. You were grateful for a lot of things but that was all you were. You weren't happy, nor were you content.

The thudding of your own footsteps on the pavement may as well break you anytime now, slowly tho you made your way to the door, counting your steps as if having a control over it will stop the pain that surged through your lower body.

Everything was silent, way too silent as you shuffled through your purse to get keys, the jingling making you sigh, it felt as if your brain was bursting open, maybe they were right, maybe it would've been better if you passed away.

You hated this house, you hated entering into the coldness, the way it ripped through your skin, making you realise again and again and again that you were alone here. Your right leg throbbed in pain, tingling as you walked towards the couch, sitting down ever so slowly. Your breath hitching as you felt a sharp pain towards your hip.

You remembered it just as well, the way the truck hit the bike, you remembered the sharp sting in your head, and then it travelled down to your right foot. But that was all you remembered. Nothing else, no one else at all.

Yet it all felt so empty, such a big apartment...just for your lone soul? And then you heard footsteps and shuffling.

"hey baby...are you home?" You heard, flinching as you sat up. "Who the fuck are you?" It came out harsher than you expected and the man stiffened in response. "Oh" was all he said as he kept the mug he was holding down before making his way to you.

"it's okay" he mumbled when he saw you shuffling to the end of the couch with a very pained expression, you leg hurt, trembling too now. He put his hands up in surrender when you grabbed the nearest vase and pointed it to him.

"stay away from me..who are you and why are you in my house" you managed to splutter out and to your surprise he only smiled, kneeling on his knees in front of you. "I'm Gojo Satoru, you husband?" He answered. "Oh...did i forget you again?" You asked, laughing as you put the vase away. A wave of sadness hitting you.

"yeah.." he smiled but it looked forceful. As he was in pain, a lot of it.

"Satoru! I hate how you're always telling me to leave my job, do you never have anything else to say?! It's become an everyday routine, please just stop!"

"y/n, baby! Please that is not what I'm saying, I'm just saying you're exhausted, take a rest please, you're ruining your body"

"i don't fucking need you to tell me what to do"

With that you grabbed your helmet and keys, rushing out of the door, ignoring your husband's loud yell for you to please come back, tears stinging in your eyes as you realised what you were doing, this was not how you wanted his birthday to go, you had so much planned! Why are you like this? Why are you hurting him so much? Why are you hurting so much always.

"i wish you would just die today, i hate you so much" you told yourself as you turned your bike on, driving forcefully to you didn't even know where. Oh to your luck, it was raining heavily but you hadn't even noticed until you reached a secluded highway.

'where-' was all you could think before you felt blinding lights on the side, and before you could turn your head to look at it, the truck had already struck it's blow.

Your whole body flew to the side along with your bike, the helmet banging against the road, the bike falling over your leg in a huge thud.

It hurt, everything hurt! Oh you missed satoru, your husband. No you couldn't die like this you didn't even apologise to him.... you needed to tell him you loved him...god just once...what have you done?

"does your head hurt?" He asked gently pushing your hair back, "yeah" you mumbled leaning into his touch and he smiled just a tad bit more painfully.

"and what about your leg?" He asked and you nodded again, snuggling in the warmth of his hand. "It hurts a lot" you whispered, tears welling up in your eyes from the sudden reality of the immense pain you felt in your leg.

Going to the physiotherapist always brought this kind of pain, and going to the doctor along with it made it all worse. Gojo only nodded at that slowly getting up to pull your body in his arms, pulling you up in one swift motion. "You've lost more weight..." He added and you nodded against his chest, suddenly feeling weirdly sleepy, eyes dropping shut to his voice.

"doctor, please please do something, anything! Please!" You heard the moment you opened your eyes, the light blinded you so you just closed them again. Why is this man crying so desperately, oh how it hurt to hear his voice laced in such tremendous pain...that was all you could think as you felt the air punching it's way out of you, oh god what was happening, why could you not move?

Your whole body ached...hard. Especially your head, it felt like it would explode any moment. "Let me see what i can do" was all you heard before a series of commotions blew up. "She's awake!" They were all talking in hushed tones but it still hurt your head so much.

"please! Stop! Hurts!" You mumbled, eyes blinking over and over as you sobbed, tears wetting your face but it all stung hard. "Toru! It hurts!" You cried and you felt a hand immediately grabbing yours.

You turned your head expecting just as much to see your dear husband, relief washing over your body as you did. But oh he was crying, so hard you could barely see his blue eyes, they were dark red, he looked scrubbed off of all rest.

Like he had been awake for days and you couldn't help but cry harder as he looked at you. A sharp pain tingling in your arm as a needle pierced you to which you cried again.

The moment you woke up, you searched for satoru again. "Toru!" Hands shuffling around in bed, you hated waking up with him not by your side, it reminded you of the day you first woke up from the accident.

"hey! It's okay! it's okay I'm here!" He whispered oh so gently as he pushed his hands under your waist, pulling you on his lap, pushing you close to his chest as you desperately cling to his shoulder, his bare skin not failing to calm your anxiety down.

"i thought you left" you whispered and he kissed your head in return. "I would never, I'd walk with you to death if needed" he shuffled under you, pulling you up so he could see your face.

The look shattered his heart, he remembered each detail unlike you....that day after the accident every now and then you forgot who he was, so much so that you even started remembering that you forgot him, it was a lot better than before, well it had been 5 years after all.

He remembered the 1 year by heart, you'd scream, cry and run away from him whenever he came near you, and just as you'd remember you'd forget again...and then again. His heart broke when you looked up all confused, and even more when you clinged to him, crying that your head hurts, that you wanted to die instead of forgetting him everyday.

At least now you remembered him more often than you forgot. Didn't hurt any less but he wished he could go back, see that you were suffering everyday before that ever happened.

satoru was a busy man, and he failed to see how hard you were struggling alone when he wasn't around, leading to more and more fights, that night too, he had divorce papers ready if you fought. On his birthday yes.

But he hated himself for ever thinking he'd want to leave you, the feeling he got when he first got the call, first saw you in the hospital bed, attached to all those machines and wire, he thought he'd die right then and there.

"how long is this going to go shoko?!....she doesn't even remember me half the time, and the remaining time she's crying in my arms because of the pain!"

Shoko had never seen The Gojo Satoru in this much pain ever before, he looked like he hadn't slept in ages, hair messy, dark circles adorning his eyes to the point his blue eyes faded to a dark colour that she couldn't bear to see anymore.

Gojo was always happy, always having fun, and when he first fell in love, geto and her were actually surprised to see how down bad he could be, it was almost adorable how he'd do anything you even so much as spoke about.

But now here he was, the same man, broken apart to the point he didn't even look like their best friend anymore.

"gojo...her condition is bad...very bad we're lucky she's alive and walking, we're luckier she remembers anything at all even for a while. I'll be honest with you, there's only so much i can do anymore. I've had her consulted with the best neurologists possible, and the chances of survival in the surgery are so slim, we cannot take the risk!"

Shoko regretted it the moment it came out, her heart aching at how his eyes dropped down even more, shoulders slumping as he sighed, grabbing his hair with both his hands- "toru!" You yelled from outside, the glass window making him sit up straight as he realised.

Eyes coming back to normal as he stared at you with so much love shoko felt like she was even missing out, he waved at you and you waved back, geto held your hand, supporting you in your short stroll. Gojo's smile carried so much shoko almost resented you for forgetting it all.

"toru!" You called and he gasped realising he had not been listening at all, "oh I'm so sorry i just.." he started but didn't know how to finish. "It's okay..." It wasn't the most genuine answer you could utter then but you knew where his trail of thoughts probably were.

You knew it had been hard, and you knew he blamed himself for all of it but there was only so much you could do to help, you remembered how when you tried to help he'd beg and cry for you to instead just get better, just heal properly.

Your right leg even after surgery didn't work properly, sometimes the pain came so hard, you'd not even be able to cry, clutching the bed sheets desperately begging whatever God to end it and throughout it gojo stayed by you. You loved satoru gojo, and you wished you had not gone out that day, if only you had waited, calmed down, talked to him just once, told him you were suffering, if only you had not prayed to be killed that day.

Maybe then he wouldn't have to suffer so much, or maybe if you had just died instead of sticking to him like this.

But you hadn't and maybe it was selfish but you were thankful he loved you so much that he didn't leave throughout this. "Baby..i promise this will be over, I'll get better...i...i don't know how long it'll take but i...promise" you could feel the way his hands trembled on your waist, eyes tearing as he stared at you.

"i know, God you've to, i know, I'm so sorry" you hated how he blamed himself for everything but as he buried himself in your neck you couldn't help but be oh so thankful you were with him.

And maybe an year later, this will be gone, you'd stop forgetting him and everything will be okay. And maybe as he told this story to your teenagers, maybe his prayers all came true.

Because you were asleep with your head on his chest, never to forget him again, his eyes still as teary as they used to be, but this time he held two other pair of eyes sobbing his pain out for him. "Dad!....we never knew you both went through so much...ugh i wish u get a husband like you two" your daughter cried and your son nodded before telling her she looked ugly while crying, his own cheeks drenched with tears.

And as gojo watched his children bicker, he didn't fail to land a chaste kiss to your head, oh so thankful for everything, maybe it all works out in the end.

A/n: heyaaa thank you for reading lovelies! I've no idea what i just wrote, started with a completely different story but here we are. I'm sorry if this is not that good 😭 haven't written shit in a good while. Again thank you for reading...or not? Have a great day or night love ya🫶🏻🎀