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prettyinsophie · 2 months ago

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Cum with me…to the gym

3k words

Your visit to the gym with Abby escalates quickly when you find out that a certain area can also be worked on by the adductor machine.

warnings: fingering (reader receiving), oh and the fingering is in public so yeah…

I lowkey hate this but it’s the only thing I’ve managed to finish writing throughout the whole year…sigh. I recently watched Arcane so…maybe I’ll start publishing about Vi or Sevika or both.

“Oh, c’mon! We still have two more exercises to go before finishing with some cardio!” Abby exclaims with a devilish smile across her lips, enjoying seeing you sweating and panting after doing three sets of Bulgarians.

After weeks of your best friend begging you to pay a visit to the gym, you obliged with the condition of getting to see Wicked afterward since Abby’s not a big fan of long movies, let alone musicals, so here you were; hair-sticking to your face, red cheeks, and skin glowing with sweat because Abby’s routine is no joke.

“Two more?! Can we just do one more? Pleaseee?” You beg in a whiny pout, giving her puppy eyes because you feel like you’ll pass out any moment now if you keep going. Of course, you’re being dramatic, but that’s just your zodiac sign being true to itself.

Abby playfully rolls her eyes, suppressing a smirk because she thinks you look adorable like that. She won’t tell you that, though, at least not in a non-mocking tone. “The machines are easier, and you can hit whatever weight you want. Sounds fair?”

You purse your lips, looking at her while she chugs some water down. It’s so unfair how godly she looks right now while you feel like a sticky mess. You nod, defeated more than anything because you might as well complete the routine properly. “Fine…”

The gym is fairly empty, but that doesn’t surprise you since it was one of your conditions to agree to come. And so you walk to the bench press, which was as hard as any other machine even with the lowest weight. You were more of a workout-at-home type of gal, after all, and Abby always mocked you because she’s a gym rat and this is her second home. To each their own, you don’t like being around strangers that much.

“What’s this one for?” You ask with your head tilting to the side, confused but willing to learn all about the stupid machine, eager because it’s the last one you’ll use today and for a while.

“This is the leg adductor, great for toning your legs and inner thighs. I’ll show you how to use it and then you can give it a go, yeah?”

“‘Kay…”

You can’t deny that it’s fun to see her in a trainer-like role, and you decide that it’s not that bad and that the reward will come later when you watch the 190-minute-long film. You watch Abby setting the machine and its weight intently, trying to make mental notes of everything so you won’t need her help for each little thing. And here goes…your eyes definitely find her hands gripping the handles more interesting than the exercise itself, or the way her thunder thighs push the weight inwards almost effortlessly. Phew. She finishes her set and stands from the machine so you can give it a go.

“See? Easy.” She smiles before adjusting the weight so it’s lighter for you.

You hesitate to get on it because it looks silly, and you definitely feel exposed with your legs spread open in your yoga pants.

“Oh wow, didn’t know you could open up this much,” She teases with a quizzical grin and her head cocking to the side, which makes you scoff and roll your eyes.

“Shut up, I do pilates after all, don’t I?” You excuse your almost obscene spreading, and to only make it worse, you’re wearing a thong and you plead that Abby won’t look down because you’re certain she’ll be able to catch a detailed glimpse of your pussy.

“Chill, I’m just fucking with ya. Let me help you…” Abby snorts, amused at how you respond to her mindless teasing. She bends down in your direction to adapt the position so you won’t be opened up like a christmas present, “…and there! Now hold onto these and try to push the weight inwards slowly, if you do it fast you’ll hurt yourself.”

Abby instructs and you do as you’re told. Slowly, you push your legs together, gripping the handles because the weight is definitely challenging, and after the bench press, Bulgarians, and squats, your legs are not the strongest, but you manage to do it.

“How’s the weight? Do you want me to lower it?” Abby asks, leaning on the machine’s weight rack, “Y-Yeah…it’s too heavy.” Your voice quakes tiredly, and the blonde wants to poke fun at you for it but decides to save it because she knows you’re doing your best. So she lowers the weight so it’s more comfortable.

It’s definitely difficult to do it with your wobbly legs, but it’s also fun in its own way. You close and open your legs at a slow pace, breathing deeply as you do each one, and with Abby watching is only making it harder to pretend you’re not struggling as much. Although it hurts, you’re not sure if you’re targeting the right area since you keep clenching your core unconsciously, and it only causes you to breathe heavier and heavier for some reason. Abby’s on her phone since you got the hang of it, and yes, you can do the exercise, but with each push from your legs, your body gets hotter and your breathing gets sharper. The last rep comes, and the pressure is overwhelming even after taking small breaks between each set. The muscles in your lower stomach tighten, and that’s when you feel your pussy clenching around nothing, and you realize…

This fucking exercise is fun because it’s stimulating you, and your friend in front of you probably has no idea of what’s happening since she’s watching instagram reels.

Your back arches ever so slightly from the seat, a familiar reaction from when you pleasure yourself, and the pooling between your thighs only worsens as you get closer to the end of the rep, clenching every muscle because it feels so good. A loud, raspy gasp escapes your lips, and your eyes immediately seek Abby, checking if she’s seeing what’s engaging between you and the machine, but she remains still so you keep going. Your thighs are shaking, begging you to end the exercise but you keep going despite already hitting the fifteenth one.

‘Almost…’ Even the voice in your head is ragged. Your cunt is throbbing, your abs are inhumanly clenching and the band in your stomach’s about to snap. The sweat is running down your face and your neck, but all you can focus on is that aching pooling in the pit of your stomach.

With your chest heaving and your lip caught between your teeth, you close your legs one more time and groan softly at your release, the chemicals in your brain plastering colorful dots in your vision, and you finally let go since your body’s all weak and shaky. You can barely ride out the bliss when it hits you.

You just had an orgasm. At the gym. With Abby two steps away from you.

“Fuck…” A throaty breath catches Abby’s attention, and thank god your yoga pants are black and not pink today.

“You finally done? I know you’re a newbie but it took you long enough.” Abby puts her phone in her pocket and looks down at you with that kind and charming grin of hers, and then there you are, a panting mess.

“I…need to go to the bathroom,” You announce breathily, quickly getting off the machine because you need to take care of the situation in your pants. The blonde frowns and you know she wants to ask if something’s wrong, but she sees you in a rush and simply points at the ladies' room. You almost run, cursing in your head again and again because what the fuck is wrong with you? The bathroom stalls are empty so you enter the last one, immediately banging your head against the door.

“You’re a fucking pervert. You’re pathetic!” You whisper, and your legs threaten to give up once again, which only upsets you further.

You rest your head against the door and look up, battling the tears brewing in your eyes. This is it; the lowest you’ve reached so far. Who knows if one of the few people out there saw you? Shit, shit, shit. You haven’t had time to play with yourself but this definitely wasn’t the solution to that!

Deep breath in and out, but no matter how calm you are now, the wet spot in your pants remains.

“Hey…you in here?” Abby’s voice makes you jump startled, and you curse again in your head.

“Y-Yeah, last stall.” Your voice is weak and raspy, but you manage to get the right tone to not let her know you’re about to cry.

“You okay? You looked…I dunno, weird.”

Abby’s worry makes your heart clench, and guilt showers you like a bucket of cold water. She’s your best friend though; you know every small quirk, have seen each other’s awkward phases, and most importantly, have kept secrets you know aren’t for anyone else to know. So you’ll be fine, you’re adults now so this isn’t a big deal, right?

You open the door and pull her arm so she’ll join you. Rapidly, you close the door again as if the entire bathroom isn’t empty. Abby chuckles, amused by the sudden move from you, but the smirk fades as soon as she sees the sulky look on your face with your lips almost pouting and your eyes glossy. “Hey…what happened?” Her brows meet in a concerned frown, and she reaches for your hand.

The embarrassment is strong enough to block your throat and tighten your chest. You bite your lip, looking up when Abby’s thumb gently rubs the back of your hand.

“I…” How could you even put it into words? No fancy vocabulary would make this any better, “...the pressure of the exercise was really strong, and I…don’t know how but I think I came.”

Abby’s heart dropped to her stomach, and for your sake, she contained as much shock as she could inside her, but the truth is…she found that adorably amusing and even kind of hot…? You look defeated, just like a puppy who knows did something wrong, and she wants to pet your head and cuddle you.

On your side though, you’re certain she’s thinking you’re a freak that should be locked away from society. You look away from her. Your heart thuds in nothing but shame, pumping the blood to your cheeks, painting them a bright red color.

“How bad is the situation?” Her voice is lower than usual, and you assume that is in case someone enters the bathroom.

“My pants are soaked…” You nearly sob, sniffing but holding it in.

Abby hums, taking a step close to your position against the door, and she hesitantly brings her hand to your clothed crotch as if to make sure you’re telling the truth. Your body reacts to that, naturally, and you jump a little, looking at her with your eyes widening because that’s unknown territory.

“Okay…listen, it’s completely normal, yeah? Tons of girls have gone through the same thing so it’s not like you’re the first one.” She soothes you, her voice low and smooth, almost like a lullaby, and her hand moves to your hip, squeezing it lightly to comfort you.

You huff in relief, still embarrassed but that statement definitely took some weight off your back. “Thank god, I feel like a pervert.”

“You probably are, but that’s okay too.” Of course, she pokes fun at you at the first chance, but she manages to make you laugh a little.

The scenario is a little weird. You’ve been in the most insane and random situations together, but this could top any of those other ones. Your back’s against the door, and Abby’s just centimeters away from you; her hand gripping your hipbone rather firmly, causing your hips to jerk unconsciously. Your eyes meet hers, and she has such an indistinct look on her face that you can’t say you’ve seen before.

“You’re still sensitive,” She states huskily, and you catch her licking her lips.

“Well, yeah. I just had an orgasm.” You also state, almost sarcastically because it’s more than obvious why your body is reacting to her grip.

“You know…having multiple orgasms will help you relax your tensed muscles.”

…okay?

She takes the one step that kept you away from each other, and now both hands are on your hips as she glances down at you with her usual crystal-clear blue eyes gone several tones down to navy. You gulp nervously, your arms on your sides as you stand awkwardly.

“What exactly are you suggesting?”

“Lemme help you.” She answers on the spot, with no hesitance or stuttering. And -shockingly- no hint of it being a joke.

You want to say no for the sake of your friendship more than anything, but your body’s been craving release for months, and if your best friend is willing to help you with such devotion then who are you to reject the thoughtful offer?

“Okay…”

Your answer takes Abby by surprise, but she doesn’t press on it because she doesn’t want you to change your mind, not when she’s getting worked up herself.

“Try to keep it down, though.” She winks a snarky smile at you, and before you can tell her to fuck off, she slips her hand down your pants, cupping your aching core.

“Fuck, you are soaked,” Abby whispers surprised, her voice coming out ragged at the realization, and she begins to move her fingers over your folds, spreading them and feeling the slickness of your previous orgasm.

You wanted to be cocky, but one of your hands goes straight to your mouth to muffle the whimper you almost let escape. You know your friend’s anatomy almost as perfectly as her personal traits and her thick fingers were always secretly acknowledged by you, and now they’re spreading your pussy, teasing you better than you’ve ever done it yourself.

“I didn’t know you were a thong girl,” Abby mutters sultrily, obviously noticing the lack of clothing for your cunt. Her fingers find your clit and she starts tracing slow circles, mostly to see your reaction.

Your eyes are fluttering, and your whimpers come out as hums with your hand blocking your lips. Her touch is gentle but firm, and god is it heavenly. It’s definitely better than your own, and you can’t believe you’re doing this in the bathroom of the gym Abby’s attended for the past years. Still, your hips roll in the direction of where she’s touching you, pathetically writhing under her to feel her calloused fingers even more against your throbbing clit.

“You like that?” Oh her voice…is as sweet as honey right now and it sends a shiver down your spine. You nod your head, too scared of being caught, but Abby -being the jerk she is- yanks your hand off your face, letting it rest on your side and very clearly hinting at you that she wants an answer vocalized.

“Y…Yeah,” You manage to gasp under your breath, your head hitting the door when her fingertips rub a little faster, right in that magnificent spot with the right amount of pressure to turn your legs into jelly.

Abby’s having the time of her life. You look angelically sexy, as if you were trying to seduce her with those red lips of yours; parted open and inviting hers to get a taste. She can’t, though, and she won’t…for now. She wants to see every twitch of your brows, every flutter of your lashes when you blink repeatedly, and every bead of sweat that rolls down your forehead and causes your flushed cheeks to glow under the dim light of the bathroom.

“Abs…” It kills her to hear that beloved nickname of hers coming out of your lips in a needy gasp. She purses her full lips, pitying the situation because she wishes you could just whimper her name out loud. Later…she thinks to herself.

Abby calls out your name as well, matching your discreet and low tone, “...yeah? Feels good?”

You nod again, not risking a moan coming out. Your chest heaves, feeling tight because you can barely breathe. It’s almost like a fever dream…or a wet one, in this case. The blood is pumping hot and fast, adrenaline rushing all over you as she sends you to the fucking moon in steady circles. A loud gulp jumps on the walls of the stall, your best attempt at trying to keep quiet.

You feel that familiar pressure in your belly, but Abby whispers your name again. Her eyes are darker, with a loose strand of her blonde hair falling over her face, and she leans down. “I really wanna finger you, ‘s that alright?” She almost begs you, her pretty brows arching in eagerness for what your answer will be.

Your heart’s about to leap out of your chest at this point, feeling like you’re close to suffocating, but you lick your puffy lips and whisper a very needy ‘yes’. And Abby does not waste a single second before guiding one of your legs around her hips and immediately lowering her two digits to your entrance, spreading your arousal so her fingers won’t come in dry. You close your eyes at the weird sensation, but your hips jerk in her direction more aggressively than before.

“So wet for me…I wish I could taste that sweet pussy,” Abby hoarsely mutters in your ear, and before you can react, her middle and ring finger slip inside you oh so smoothly, stretching you open with her thick and long digits.

“Fuck…!” You hiss agitatedly, unconsciously clenching around her from how overwhelming everything is at this point. Abby slips them out and thrusts them until her knuckles become an obstacle, groaning under her breath as well, which only makes it harder for you to keep quiet. Why were you doing this again? Whatever the fuck was the reason, you wish she would’ve brought it up long before today.

Heat’s consuming your body, colored in a passionate red from your cheeks to your chest, probably from holding your breath, or the force Abby’s fingering you with. Either way, it’s all stimulating you in a way you know you shouldn’t be enjoying. Your heavy sighs are getting progressively louder, but the loud beating of your heart in your ears silences them.

Abby’s fingers thrust forcefully, almost abusing your soaking cunt, and squelching sounds filter out, causing the blonde to groan once again in your ear. Seemingly, the pornographic sound of her fingers pumping in and out only encourages her to seek deeper, finding a spongy spot at the very top when she curls both fingers expertly.

“There!” A normal whimper escapes, and as if to punish you, the door of the ladies’ room opens with two voices following as they chat about gains and what to have for lunch in terms of protein goals. Eyes wide as plates, you look at Abby, silently asking her what to do, unsure if it scares you more to keep going or stop.

Abby has her priority clear; you. So the solution is to cover your mouth with her hand and angle her fingers higher and deeper inside you, hitting the spongy wall repeatedly with the two girls chatting in the background, making enough noise to quiet the squelching of her fingering. Abby cages you between her body and the door, and her groans soon become growls, like a hungry animal salivating over its prey.

Tears brimmed in your wide eyes, beginning to tear up as you breathed raggedly through your nose and winced against Abby’s hand. You should’ve stopped, but the adrenaline rush of possibly -hopefully not- getting caught only caused your muscles to clench tighter, and the pooling in the pit of your stomach to swoop like a crashing wave. You’re close, so fucking close that you’re seeing stars this time. Abby’s eyes even shine before your eyes roll back and your body spasms like you’re being electrocuted. Creaming and cumming all over Abby’s fingers and in your yoga pants for the second time today. A loud ringing in your ears almost concerns you and makes you think you passed out, but it only lasts a minute or two before opening your eyes again and seeing your blonde friend looking at you like she just saw a UFO or something.

She keeps her fingers inside until the two girls leave the bathroom, and you can’t say it isn’t awfully awkward to feel the emptiness when she pulls them out and retrieves her hand from your lips as well, letting you pant loudly while you ride out the thunderous orgasm.

Your eyes meet, and Abby’s cheeks seem to get pink, which would’ve been funny in any other situation. “You, uh, you good?”

It’s so awkward that it makes your stomach cringe uncomfortably. “Yeah, just…recovering.”

Abby nods, letting you know that she understands, but you can tell she’s also embarrassed, probably regretting talking to you the way she did…publicly.

“Are we still watching Wicked?” You ask out of the blue, trying to lighten up the mood, and when Abby snorts everything returns to normal.

“Not only are we watching it, you’re getting eaten out afterward,” She taunts you sweetly, licking her dripping fingers clean.

#abby tlou #abby anderson #abby anderson x reader #abby smut #abby anderson x you #abby the last of us #abby anderson x female reader #abby anderson smut #abby anderson tlou2 #abby anderson x y/n

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damiansgoodgirll · 2 months ago

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please,, please,, please,, rhea being all cuddly then soft sex… its a need

this request just melted my heart ♥️

rhea ripley x reader

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!

‼️soft rhea, soft sex, a lot of feels and fluff‼️

needing me

“you’re so cuddly today” you whispered amused against her soft skin.

currently laying down on the bed, on your favorite position - your head between her head and shoulder, your leg over her thick ones, hands intertwined together while she was whispering softly to you.

“i’m always cuddly” she mumbled, pretending to be annoyed by you, making you laugh.

“not as much as you are today, maybe it’s the christmas spirit” you looked up to her, challenging her look.

“please, i can’t wait for christmas season to be over…” she huffed.

“oh right, i forgot you are the grinch…” she laughed as you pretended to be annoyed “but i’m glad you’re home now, we can spend some time together, watch a lot of movies…”

“cuddle and spend days in bed” she winked down at you.

“just to cuddle?” teasing her back.

“oh so you’ve been needing me, uh?” she whispered and in a swift move she was pinning you underneath her warm body “i think i can solve that…”

“rhea…you’re tickling me” you said laughing the moment you felt her cold hands grazing underneath your t-shirt.

she watched you big loving eyes “i can solve that too…just trust me” she whispered before pressing a soft kiss upon your lips. her cold hands moved against your skin, making you shiver “let me help you with this one…” she whispered, referring to the oversized ‘mami’ t-shirt you bought for her on etsy but that somehow, you always ended up wearing.

raising your arms just to give her better access, in a swift move the shirt was laying down on the floor.

“no bra, uh? do you wanna be on the naughty list this year?” she joked, making you laugh “you’re so pretty baby, i can’t believe we have this week just for us…” she whispered.

thinking of how hard it was for you two to find a moment to stay together. with her being on raw and you being drafted on smackdown, you always ended up having a day and a half to spend together so you never failed to cherish sweet moments like that one.

“i know…” you met her soft smile. she tried so many times to get you on raw so you two could be together and travel together but hunter said no multiple times, saying that your feud with tiffany was attracting attention and definitely attracting more fans and he didn’t want to ruin your big moment like that.

then rhea herself offered to be drafted on smackdown but again, hunter said no.

you fought hard for what you had and no matter how little less time you had to spend together, you both always made sure it was worth it.

“hey…what is your mind thinking?” she asked, shoving some hair behind your ear.

“nothing…i just, i wish we could be together all days, moments like this get me nostalgic” you chuckled, making her laugh.

“i know…it’ll get better after mania, i promise you” rhea smirked, clearly knowing something you didn’t know. but before you could ask questions, she pressed another sweet kiss upon your lips “no questions…let me enjoy my time off with my girlfriend”.

“okay…” you whispered, letting her kiss you from your lips to your neck and down your chest. releasing a soft breath, you felt her warm tongue gently kissing above your breast, long enough to tease you “rhea…”.

“patience, i’m gonna give you exactly what you need, just hold on a little for me, okay?” and you knew you couldn’t say no when she asked so nicely. so you stayed there, feeling rhea torturing your breast before she decided to tease your nipples too.

a soft moan escaped your lips, making rhea chuckle “sensitive, aren’t we?”

“not my fault you didn’t touch me in a week…” you decided to be bratty a little bit, making rhea stop her movement and make her look up at you.

“is that so?” she asked, clearly amused.

“yes…” you whispered.

“then, let me fix my mistake baby…” - you loved this sweet side of rhea. in other occasions she would have punished you or edged you until you couldn’t take it anymore but not this time. instead she took her sweet time in undressing you properly. removing your pants first and then the white lacy panties you had underneath “you’re gonna kill me one day…how did i get so lucky with you?” but before you could answer, her thumb was already teasing between your folds.

letting a quite pornographic sound out from your lips, you felt rhea laughing at your reaction.

“yes, you’ve been needing me…” she whispered, feeling how wet you already were.

“i need you, please” you said, rhea already knew that.

she softly teased your clit with her thumb, making small circles around it. her eyes were fixed on your face, studying your expression “what do you want baby, fingers or my tongue?” - it was rare that she let you decide what you wanted but she knew how down you’ve been feeling these past weeks where you had little to no time to spend together and she didn’t want to upset you.

“you, i want you rhea…” she chucked at your impatience.

while her thumb kept moving around your clit, she asked you the question again.

“you. the strap, please…” you opened your eyes up to her, as if you were begging.

“i don’t wanna hurt you…i need you to get you ready first” she couldn’t wait to be inside of you, she couldn’t wait to feel your chest pressed against hers but she wanted to take things slow.

“i’m ready, i promise you…can’t you feel how wet i am? please, i need you” her touch was intoxicating for you and she knew there was no chance of fighting with you. so she gave in, completely.

releasing her hand from your clit, she moved to the closet to get the strap - the purple one you gave her for her birthday, the one she has been using on you when she wanted to wreck you and leave you a panting mess.

slowly walking towards the bed, she stopped just to undress herself and adjust the harness over her hips. never leaving your eyes, she watched carefully at all the little movements your face was making. from how you bit your lips to how you closed your eyes just to take a deep breath.

everything she did looked hot for you and having her standing naked in front of you was making your head spinning.

when she was done, she crawled back on the bed on top of you “you ready princess?” she teased, definitely already knowing the answer.

“yes please…i need you” you couldn’t wait any longer or else you were going to explode.

she slowly dragged the strap up and down your folds, collecting your juices as she teased your clit with the tip of it. squeezing your eyes, you felt your body was on fire.

“don’t stop please…” you looked up at her with begging eyes.

in other occasions she would have done the opposite of what you asked. she would have teased you until you couldn’t take it anymore but not tonight. tonight she was ready to give you all you asked and more.

“i’m sliding in baby, take a deep breath for me” she warned you. knowing that the purple strap always worked magic on you, making you feel so full and stretched out. it was the one she used to destroy you but tonight rhea wanted to try something different.

you relaxed against her skin and when you felt the strap resting between your walls, you let out a shaky breath. suddenly feeling so warm and full. rhea still had to move, giving you time to adjust.

“you can move, please” and she did as you told her.

but this time, she kept her pace slow. the tip of the strap brushing over your sweet spot, making you shiver and moan every time. her chest pressed against yours. feeling her hard nipples against your was making your head dizzy.

she gently pinned your hands above your head with one of her strong hands while the other one held your chin between her fingers.

lowering her head down just to meet your lips in a soft kiss “i could kiss you all night long” she whispered against your lips, making you smile into the kiss.

sweet love making with rhea taking care of you in the sweetest way possible.

with each thrust you felt like you were close and rhea felt it too from how you tried to close your legs around her.

“you coming baby?” she whispered, leaving a tender kiss against your collarbone.

“uh uh…” you moaned, too lost in the pleasure to speak.

the feeling of the strap hitting your spot and rhea’s lips all over your neck were enough to make you crumble under her skin.

closing your eyes and letting your mouth fall open, you moaned her name as you came. the friction of the strap against her clit and the feeling of your body responding too good to her touch were enough to make her cum too.

she gently released your hands and in a quick but steady move she grabbed you by the hips and made you sit on her strap as she came, making you feel all of the strap length inside of you.

your hands quickly went to her back - maybe leaving a scratch or two as you still were riding out your first orgasm.

“oh fuck baby…you feel too fucking good…” she moaned as she hid her face in the crook of your neck, her teeth grazing over your skin.

it took you a moment to come down from your high. your eyes were still closed but your breath came back to normal while rhea was now kissing the skin she bit before.

“shit…” you whispered, opening your eyes only to be met with a loving rhea.

“you good baby?” her hand quickly moved some of the hair that got stuck on your face.

you nodded “i am…i’m perfectly fine…i just wanna cuddle” you mumbled, not wanting to sound too weak but rhea watched you with sweet eyes before helping you remove yourself from her waist.

slowly, you removed yourself from the strap she was still wearing.

“we did a mess…” you looked down at the purple strap that was now covered in your juices.

rhea chuckled, taking the harness off from herself and throwing it somewhere in the room “i’ll do the cleaning later, now i want to lay down with you…”

you couldn’t help the big smile that formed on your face when rhea said those words.

laying down on the bed, you let your head rest on her shoulder again as her hands went to move on your back, gently massaging your soft skin.

“i wish we could stay like this forever…” you whispered.

“i know…but hey, let’s focus on the time we can spend together now okay? everything is going to be okay, just trust me…” she said, trying to ease your mood just a little bit.

you nodded, closing your eyes and letting rhea’s touch lullaby you to sleep.

rhea smiled looking down at you, thinking how lucky she was to have found a partner like you.

if only you knew that she was going to propose on christmas day…

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bratbarzal · 2 months ago

Text

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!!!

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #my hearts going pitter patter pitter patter like I could throw up #need to post this before I fall asleep lmao #*writing

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g4rvez-r3id · 30 days ago

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Protector

Boyfriend!Spencer Reid x Fem! Reader

Synopsis: You and Spencer have been together a few months and he’s beginning to notice how often you keep your guard up and he converses with you about his concerns and so you tell him why you act the way you do.

Category: Angst, Fluff

Warnings: established relationship, spencer being a concerned bf, mentions of past physical assault, reader has ✨trauma✨, crying, kissing, mention of past trauma, dark humor (?), spencer lowkey doesn’t get dark humor, it’s cutesy towards the end, lowkey projected here sorry y’all

Author’s Note: hey lovelies! so i wanted to write another personal one-shot, i wanted to share my own personal experience on here so please tread this lightly :) i hope y’all like this one because this one did truly come from the heart. <3

He noticed it after leaving Rossi’s mansion one night. Spencer’s team had invited you out to dinner. You’d only been dating just a few months but they’d heard all about you from your dear old, doting boyfriend and were eager to meet you.

His colleague, author David Rossi had told your boyfriend to invite you to dinner over in his big mansion. You’d almost said no, that maybe it was too soon but Spencer encouraged you and well, he was good at doing that.

He’d met you at your workplace, a bookstore no less. He’d been looking for a copy of Slaugherhouse Five by Kurt Vonnegut Jr. when he’d spotted you in your natural habitat, putting more books on the shelves, dressed in an outfit you’d been comfortable in topped with converse and he was hooked.

He started coming up with excuses, just to see you and even had the courage to talk with you about where to find certain despite his excellent memory but you didn’t need to know about that, yet.

Eventually, you’d figured him out and decided to ask him out on a date to put an end to his misery.

And since then, you’d been going steady for just a few months. And it was an understatement to say that these had been the happiest few months of both of your lives.

However, there were still things you needed to figure out about each other.

Like, when it came to Spencer’s job, you knew to be supportive and realize that you weren’t the only person in the world that needed Spencer Reid. Or that you loved the winter season despite not being a big fan of Christmas.

But this was something new and something he wasn’t sure if he should be concerned about. When you left Rossi’s mansion that night with Spencer, arm in arm with him, you held your breath and kept looking around in the streetlights. He noticed it on the way into Rossi’s place as well. Spencer had parked a little far than intended but assured it wasn’t too far but you seemed to have another thing on your mind.

Eventually, Spencer brushed it off and chalked it up to you being anxious to meeting Spencer’s team.

But then it happened again. You’d both gone to the grocery store at eight o’clock, wanting to get snacks for the sleepover you’d wanted with him after a long hard week of work on both ends.

And the whole time you’d been shopping with Spencer, you’d been looking at the other customers and even tensed up on the way out at an older man sitting on a bench nearby with a grumpy look etched on his face. Spencer had also noticed how you clutched your taser in your hand until you both got to the car that night.

He’d asked you if you were okay but you gave him a small smile and assured to him — “Oh, yeah, I’m fine. I’m just not used to going anywhere at night.”

And he’d had his answer. You didn’t like going anywhere at night. It was as simple as that.

But just to be sure it was nothing more, he began to secretly study you. And this was where he started to get concerned.

He began to notice how you often clutched his arm tightly while you two walked in the park and were by yourselves. He also noticed how you took your taser everywhere you went. And how you constantly looked over your shoulder, even if you were in a group of people. He also noticed how you never strayed far, keeping close to a big group and never went alone anywhere — unless it was work and even then, you took your taser with you.

Spencer even decided to ask Morgan to see if there was anything he could give him advice on and even Morgan didn’t know how to respond to that. “To be honest, I’ve never dealt with anything like that. The best thing you should do is just talk to her. See what’s up.”

So, Spencer waited. He waited until it happened again. And it did, you’d met up with him after work since you were going to his place tonight and you surprised him by going to the bureau — since Penelope had wanted to see you and who are you to deny the sweetest woman in the goddamn world?

He’d led you both back to the parking garage. And he noticed how even though the parking garage was empty, you still kept your guard up and kept looking over your shoulder.

So, as he drove back to his place in your car — he told you he was driving, no questions asked — he struggled with how to begin the conversation. You could tell something was up by the way he kept staring at you in the car. But he didn’t say a word.

And then, you both arrived back to his apartment and he still couldn’t say anything to you. I mean, he was talking to you but there was something behind his eyes that was holding something back.

It wasn’t until you both sat down on his couch, watching a movie and catching him stare at you every few minutes that you paused the movie and finally asked him what’s wrong.

Spencer crinkles his brows together, “What? Noth-Nothing’s wrong.” He tells.

“You’ve been staring at me since we left your workplace. And normally, I appreciate your gaze but right now, it’s freaking me out.” You explain and Spencer looks down, he never really did have a good poker face and he’d been known to slip up quite a few times. “Tell me what’s wrong?”

Spencer opens his mouth but you rake your fingers through his chocolate locks and all rational thought seems to go out the window. But he knows that you guys need to have this conversation since you’ve confronted him on it now.

“Are you… okay?” Spencer starts subtly, hoping on this being a way to start the conversation about your recent behavior he’s noticed.

“I am great, Spencer. Are you okay?” You ask with a small smile. A smile he loves seeing on your face. A smile he appreciates and wants to see everyday. A smile he envisions seeing every night before he goes to bed. He nods, “I’m okay. It’s just…”

Spencer sighs and maybe it’s just time to rip off the bandaid. It’s time that you two need to talk about this like adults. Because this has gone on for too long and he’s starting to become worried.

“You’ve been acting a little… squirrelly lately. And I can’t help but notice that… every time we go somewhere at night, you’re more…” Guarded? Nervous? “On edge,” He chooses. “And you hold onto me a lot when we’re both out and— not-not that I’m complaining about that, I love when you do that but… I’m just starting to grow a little concerned because— I like you a lot. And I just want you to feel like you can talk to me if something is bothering you.”

You look at Spencer and you can tell he’s genuinely concerned and really does care about you. You’re kind of flattered that he’s noticed a lot about your behavior, despite it being a little troubling. You know it can be to other people. You’d avoided having this conversation with him, not wanting to burden him with it like other people have claimed that you have in the past. The people that had you’re no longer friends with anymore.

You sigh and you know that maybe it is best to talk to him about it. Spencer had never been one to judge and you knew that he would never ever say anything negative about your fears — however, the fear that he’d think you were overreacting was scary to face. Especially when Spencer was such a logical person already. But he wanted to know and maybe it’s best to speak out your truth.

“Okay, okay, okay,” You sit up a bit and he does the same. “But please do not say I’m overreacting or being overdramatic because I’ve dealt with that too many times already and I can’t handle it from you either.” You find yourself telling him and he shakes his head assuringly, “I’d never think that.”

You take a deep breath and look at him and all you can see on his face is adoration and concern and hopefulness. “Okay, uh…” Where do you start? “When I was sixteen, I… went to this Halloween party. And… it was my first party so I was excited. I went with a few friends and… only one of us knew how to drive at the time, so they went to go drop another one of our friends off because of her curfew and was going to come back.”

“Well, while she was gone, the party got raided by cops and a lot of people left. It was just me and this one friend standing on the sidewalk waiting for our friend to come back. But while we were waiting…” You pause, the memories coming back like a floodgate and you close your eyes. It was not a happy time in your life and you blocked it out of your memory for good reason.

Spencer could see you getting worked up about it and he puts his hand on your thigh, grounding you in a way you can’t explain. “You don’t have to do this or explain it to me if you don’t want to.” You shake your head, “No, you should know.”

Spencer almost pulls his hand away but you hold him there and he lets you, knowing that maybe you need to physical touch right now.

“We were waiting and this car… stopped right in the middle of the road and three people came out of the car, a girl and a couple of guys and they were all wearing these clown masks and… they tried to take our stuff. I thought it was just some joke so I just told my friend to ignore them and walk away but…” You pause once more and Spencer waits patiently for your sentence.

“The girl punched me. Hit me right in the nose.” Spencer winces at this, hating to imagine your pain in that moment. And he almost doesn’t want to hear the rest of the story. “Luckily, I didn’t go down. I, uh, almost tried to hit her, actually. But I didn’t know what she had, a knife, a gun… so I told my friend to run. And we both ran. That was the fastest I probably ever ran in my life. And there were these people nearby that heard us yelling and they helped us. All I remember is… my devil costume and… my nose bleeding all over my outfit. I don’t think I ever wore that skirt again.” Spencer’s heart physically hurts from that sentence alone.

“For a minute there, I felt weak. And… scared. I didn’t go anywhere alone for a while and it was bad. That friend ended up telling everyone what happened when I wanted to keep it quiet.” Spencer knows that your fierce nature never goes unnoticed by him. You were so tough, so free-willed. When you had issues with customers, they were often dealt with by your attitude and to put it lightly, you were a badass. To hear that you were vulnerable at one point made him sad because that wasn’t who he knew you as and he hated that someone made you feel weak.

“Did anyone ever find those people that did that to you?” Spencer asks, his tone calm and steady. You shake your head, “I told my parents and we filed a police report but… no one ever caught ‘em. Not to my knowledge anyway.” You inform.

“But I’ve gotten better with it, but I still keep my guard up. I hate that I have to look over my shoulder every time I’m out of the house, I hate that I have to take my taser everywhere I go, I hate dealing with this. But it’s my everyday life.” You tell and Spencer looks from the ground to you. “Why didn’t you tell me about this sooner?”

“I just… didn’t want to be a burden on you,” You sigh. “And I felt like I didn’t need to say anything because most people don’t get it. Some actually laugh because of how I phrase it.”

“How you phrase it?” Spencer asks, clearly confused because what’s so funny about someone attempting a mugging on somebody? “I always say… I almost got mugged by a few clowns.” You find yourself sheepishly laughing but Spencer, however, doesn’t think it’s funny. “I just kinda started making a joke of it. I figure it’s the one thing I can do to deal with it. Dark humor, I guess.”

“I don’t think it’s funny,” Spencer said. “Something worse could’ve happened to you. It’s already bad enough you got punched in the face.” He explained.

“It was a really long time ago, Spencer. I’m okay, now.” You remind him and he takes a sharp sigh, “I know. I just hate the fact that you went through that. That everyone makes a joke of it, that no one else seems to care about the fact that you got hurt when I care so much about that because you deserved better than how you got treated.”

You take a deep breath and a weight is off of your shoulders. Part of you is glad you shared that with Spencer finally but another part of you is scared to be transparent with him about your fears. But the way he’s reacting sets all of those fears aside. He was the person you needed when you were sixteen and suddenly, you want to turn back time and tell your teenage self that everything is gonna be just fine.

“You’re such a sweet and good person,” Spencer takes his hands to your face, holding you lovingly and close. “I don’t understand why someone would want to hurt someone as sweet as you.” He mutters to you.

Suddenly, you fall forward, holding him tightly in a hug and he accepts the hug rather quickly holding you. He feels as your dig your face deep and droplets on his neck. Are you crying?

He pulls back and looks at you face, wiping your tears away with his thumbs. “I’m—I’m sorry,” You shake your head. “I don’t know why I’m crying…” Spencer gives you a soft look. “Sharing a truth, especially a difficult one, can make you feel vulnerable and exposed, leading to tears. It’s perfectly normal.” Spencer reminds you and you sniffle at this.

“Thank you for sharing that with me,” Spencer tells. “I know that wasn’t easy.” You nod, “You deserved to know. I know I’m not the easiest person to deal with but—” He interrupts you with a chaste kiss on your lips. He’s gentle and loving, in every way, shape and form. “You are very easy to love. Don’t you dare think otherwise.”

Spencer holds you close that night. You continued watching your movie and had fallen asleep on his shoulder and he kept his arm around protectively. He watched you as you slept, vowing to never let anything like what happened to you at sixteen, never happen to you again so long as he could help it. He’d protect you until the day he died. He’d take a bullet for you, catch a grenade for you, he’d sacrifice never speaking again if it meant saving you. He’d never let anyone hurt you or even dare to touch you.

And he’d wished to take your fears, your guard and your trauma away just to see you feel happy and carefree. He hates that it’s all so normalized with you because of what you went through. And he swears to make you feel as safe as you need to be while you’re out. He’ll start going to stores at night by himself, he’ll keep on being your knight in shining armor, he’ll keep being the protector you need him to be.

“I love you, Y/n,” He whispers, saying the words he’d dare not say until he was ready to say them to you. “And I will always protect you.”

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66stitches · 3 months ago

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dating abby headcanons

Art by fjorgust on instagram

Daily click - Palestine masterpost - TLOU and israel

divider creds

꩜ She isn’t super big on pda, but does little stuff like grab your hand or give you occasional kisses on the forehead just to remind you of how she loves you (and to let everyone know you’re hers).

꩜ With that being said, she’s all over you once you’re home.

꩜ Absolutely loves lazy morning cuddles and kisses far more than she’d like to admit.

꩜ I just know she listens to dad music. Definitely a big fan of The Offspring.

꩜ Loves to spoil her girl, but even though she doesn’t admit it, she secretly loves being spoiled and coddled as well.

꩜ Has a pretty high pain tolerance, but would sometimes exaggerate her pain just so you’d coddle and baby her, especially when she’s on her period.

And you know she’s fibbing, but you knew that if you confronted her she would immediately deny it and get super defensive (which is how you know she’s lying).

But you love babying her, so you’re more than happy to play along.

꩜ She snores, but it’s pretty soft and light, so you don’t really mind at all. It’s actually pretty comforting.

꩜ Shares her coin collection with you. You don’t really get the fascination, but seeing her ramble on passionately about what new coins she found only makes you fall in love deeper.

꩜ Reads classics. A huge fan of Dostoevsky. But also she loves nonfictions.

꩜ Absolutely sucks at video games. If you play, she’ll ask if she can try, only to get your character killed like five seconds later then complain that “something’s up with your controller.”

꩜ Loves having her hair played with. She would have trouble sleeping sometimes, but once your fingers are on those golden strands of hers she’s out like a light, already softly snoring into the pillow.

꩜ Sleeps completely naked with you. Not for any sexual purpose, but just feeling her bare skin against yours as you’re sleeping makes her feel closer to you than ever. It’s an innocently intimate and loving moment she likes to share with you.

Honestly just imagine cuddling to sleep at night completely naked. Everything is quiet and you’re peppering sleepy kisses on each other’s face, neck, shoulders, and rubbing each other’s arms and back 'til you fall asleep oh god I’m SICK.

꩜ This woman is in love with sitcoms and I will not be elaborating any further.

꩜ Claims she doesn’t like cats, but once came home like an hour late because she got caught up playing with a stray cat. Refused to tell you the real reason why she was late.

꩜ Cracks the dumbest jokes you’ve ever heard that only put a smile on your face because of how stupid they are and how cute she is when she says them.

Remember that scene where she was trying to joke around with Lev but she’s just super bad at it and he didn’t even try to play along? “You know our dogs can play cards like that?” Yeah, she does that with you too.

꩜ Cries after arguments (canon) but can’t stand people seeing her cry. She’s a pretty emotional person methinks.

꩜ Loves festivities. Will go all out on christmas and halloween, decorating the entire place and buying gifts (pesters you with questions about what you got her).

꩜ Pesto. She loves it on everything.

꩜ Loves massages. Back, shoulders, feet, scalp. Loves them all and only wants them from you.

꩜ A caregiver. (If you’re on meds), she’ll always make sure you take them and take them at the right time. She ensures that you eat three meals a day and get enough sleep, and even doesn’t let you stay up for too long. She just wants her girl to stay healthy.

꩜ She’s a total book hoarder. She promises not to buy another book 'til she’s done reading the ones she has, only for you to find a paper bag with ten new books the next day.

꩜ Loves you endlessly and has your entire wedding planned out in her head. She knows exactly what songs she wants to play and how she wants your dresses to look.

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misspygmypie · 6 months ago

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Meet & Greet... and more? Pt. 1

Pairing: Lando Norris x reader Requested: Yes, thank you @remmysthings for his request, I loved it so much!!! Summary: Single mom Y/N takes her son to meet Lando and Oscar and might be going home with more than just memories :) Words: 2158 Click here for Part 2

Please do not repost, thank you, and leave some feedback :)

Y/N glanced at her watch, her heart racing almost as fast as the cars she was about to see. The Formula 1 paddock was alive with activity as the teams prepped for the big race. Her 4-year-old son, Noah, was practically vibrating with excitement since he’d learned about this special Meet & Greet. The thought of introducing Noah to his racing heroes had kept Y/N going through some tough days and she hoped it would be worth every effort.

Noah had been a fan of racing from a very young age. His room was decorated with posters of race cars and he could name every driver from the top of his head. When Y/N had managed to secure a Meet & Greet with Lando Norris and Oscar Piastri she felt like she’d won the lottery. She knew this would be a day Noah would remember forever and she was determined to make it as special as possible.

As they approached the designated area, Y/N spotted the two drivers standing together. Lando was chatting animatedly with Oscar, both men looking relaxed in their team gear. Noah’s eyes widened and he tugged on Y/N’s hand, pulling her forward impatiently.

“Mommy, look! It’s Lando! And Oscar!” Noah squealed, his face lit up with sheer joy.

Lando’s gaze fell on them first. His eyes softened and a bright, genuine smile spread across his face. “Hey there, little guy” he called out, waving energetically.

Noah’s shyness melted away as he saw his idol waving at him. He tugged Y/N’s hand again, urging her to hurry. Y/N, feeling a bit nervous, walked over to them with a smile and extended her hand. “Hello, I’m Y/N, and this is Noah. It’s so nice to meet you both.”

“It’s great to meet you, Y/N and you too, Noah. Are you excited to see the cars up close?” Oscar greeted them with a friendly smile and Noah’s face lit up like a Christmas tree. “Yes! I love the loud vroom-vroom noises!”

Lando crouched down to Noah’s level, his eyes twinkling amused. “I think you’re going to love it even more when you see them up close. How about you come see the garage with us?”

“Yes, please” Noah shouted loudly while jumping up and down.

Lando took the boy's hand and led him towards the garage, Oscar and Y/N following them closely. “So, Y/N, what’s your story? How did you end up as Noah’s biggest racing supporter?” Oscar asked the young woman next to him.

“Well, it’s been just Noah and me for a while now. He’s always had a fascination with cars and I guess I just got caught up in his enthusiasm. This is a big deal for us, and it means a lot to be here today.”

Oscar nodded. “I can imagine. It’s wonderful to see such a strong bond and it’s great that Noah has something he’s so passionate about.”

As they walked through the paddock, Y/N noticed how Lando effortlessly engaged with Noah. His energy and enthusiasm were infectious. Noah was asking questions about the car’s features and Lando was answering with technical details and playful banter.

“Noah’s a natural. He might be a future racer,” Lando glanced back at Y/N with a smile. “He’s pretty great, just like his mom, I bet. You must be pretty good at handling all this excitement.”

Y/N laughed, feeling a blush creep up her cheeks. “I try my best.”

Oscar, catching the look Lando was giving Y/N, raised an eyebrow but kept his mouth shut. “And what about you, Y/N? What’s your favorite part about racing?”

Y/N hesitated for a moment, not wanting to admit that she’s not an expert in Formula 1, but eventually decided to be honest. “I’m not as into the technical details as Noah is, but I love seeing him so happy and excited. It makes everything worth it.”

“I can see that, it’s clear how much you care about him,” Lando smiled, his eyes softening with understanding.

The young boy’s excitement was visible when the group approached the race engineer area. Noah got more and more hyper, still holding onto Lando’s hand as he followed his idol to a series of high-tech computers and screens. “This is where we monitor everything during the race,” the British driver explained to the boy, “it’s like the car’s brain, keeping track of all the data.”

Y/N was astonished at the amount of screens displaying real-time performance data. “It’s incredible how much technology goes into this. I’ve never seen anything like it up close.”

Lando smiled, clearly enjoying her fascination with it as well. “It can be a bit overwhelming at first, but it’s all about making sure everything runs perfectly. It’s quite a thrill, actually. Do you want to see the car up close now?” He eventually asked the little boy who was still holding onto him.

Lando and Noah quickly were engrossed in a lively discussion about the car, the boy standing next to the vehicle and the driver kneeling beside him, showing the 4-year-old the various parts of the car and answering his questions.

When Lando noticed Y/N watching from a few feet away, he waved at her with a grin. He couldn’t help but notice how the light seemed to highlight her features, giving her a beautiful glow. Her smile, warm and genuine, made Lando’s heart skip a beat and he admired how her eyes lit up with curiosity at the things she was seeing and love for her little boy.

After a few more minutes of inspecting the car Lando lifted the 4-year-old up to sit in the driver’s seat, and Noah’s eyes widened in awe. “Wow! It’s so cool!”

Lando grinned, clearly enjoying Noah’s reaction. “You look like you belong there.”

Noah beamed up at him, then glanced over at Y/N with a look of pure delight. “Mommy, look” he shouted in excitement, ”I’m in the car!”

“So? What do you think about our garage?” Lando asked Y/N while Noah was pretending to drive and making noises. Oscar sensed how Lando seemed to want a moment with Y/N, so he moved himself next to Noah and explained the different buttons on the steering wheel.

“It’s fascinating. I never realized how much goes into managing a car during a race.”

“What’s been the most surprising part for you so far?” Lando’s gaze lingered on her a moment longer than necessary, but Y/N didn’t seem to notice. She thought about his question for a moment. “I think it’s how much detail and precision is involved. I mean, I knew racing was complex, but seeing it all laid out like this is eye-opening.”

Lando nodded, clearly pleased with her insight. “It’s amazing, isn’t it? Every little detail matters. That’s why we work so hard to get everything just right.”

The young woman nodded, smiling up to him. He was struck again by how pretty she looked. There was something genuinely captivating about her and he found himself drawn to her.

“Noah’s been asking some really good questions. He’s got a real passion for this, doesn’t he?” Lando commented, trying to keep the conversation going while his mind wandered to how lovely Y/N was.

Y/N’s face softened when she heard his words, happy and proud that somebody other than just his own mother noticed the passion her son had. “He definitely does. He’s been fascinated with racing since he could talk, so today his dream came true.”

Lando’s smile grew warmer as he looked back at Y/N. “It’s wonderful to see that kind of enthusiasm. And I have to say, you’re pretty amazing yourself, Y/N, not just for bringing Noah here, but for supporting his dreams and how you’re handling all of this. It must be hard taking care of him by yourself.”

As Y/N smiled, touched by his words “Thank you, Lando. That’s really sweet of you to say,” her cheeks flushing, “some days are hard but he’s a great kid.”

The driver admired her but also felt something deeper. He genuinely enjoyed her company and it was clear that her kindness and beauty, inside and out, had made a lasting impression on him. While she was watching her son still chatting with Oscar Lando once again was fascinated by the young woman next to him. He usually wasn’t the type to be nervous to flirt with girls but with Y/N it was different.

He felt himself get nervous but decided to say what he wanted to say anyway. “I’ve really enjoyed today, Y/N. How about I give you my number? Maybe I can show you around the track properly sometime or you can text me anytime you want to know more about racing or just chat.”

Y/N smiled, easing Lando’s nervousness. “I’d like that,” she nodded, fished her phone out of her pocket and handed it to the driver who had an equally big smile on his face while he put his number into her contacts.

After a few more moments of admiring the car and asking the two drivers a dozen questions, it was time for Noah and Y/N to say goodbye.

“Hey, let’s take some pictures to remember today,” Lando suggested. Everyone eagerly agreed, and they started positioning themselves for a series of fun shots. Oscar and Y/N posed together first while Noah playfully peeped out from behind them.

After a few group photos, Lando had a special request. “Oscar, can you take a picture of me with Y/N and Noah? I want to have a shot with just us.”

Lando quickly lifted Noah up onto his hip. The boy snuggled against him, eyes wide with awe and a beaming grin on his little face. Lando then slung an arm around Y/N, drawing her close and after a few seconds of hesitation Y/N leaned into Lando’s side.

Oscar, who had been watching with a smile, realized that this scene looked like a perfect family photo. The way Lando had Noah securely on his hip and the way his arm was wrapped around Y/N gave the impression of a cute little family enjoying a special day together.

The Australian raised his phone and captured the moment and after reviewing the photo and agreeing that it perfectly captured their time together, the group exchanged hugs and well-wishes but Lando had one more surprise for Noah. He handed him a signed McLaren bear with a personal note, and Noah clutched it tightly, his eyes shining with happiness.

“Thank you so much, this was the best day ever!” Noah exclaimed.

“You’re welcome, buddy, it was great meeting you. Maybe we’ll see you at another race again soon,” he crouched down once more to give the little boy a hug. “Noah, keep being awesome. I’ll be waving at you from the track.”

As Y/N and Noah left the paddock, Lando and Oscar remained behind. The Brit couldn’t help but smile at how this normal day had turned into something unexpectedly amazing. The two drivers walked toward the team's hospitality area and Oscar smirked at his teammate. “You seemed to have quite a connection with Y/N today. Not just the way you were with Noah, but with her too.”

Lando chuckled, rubbing the back of his neck. “Yeah, she’s great, isn’t she? It was really nice talking to her. She’s got this warmth about her and Noah’s excitement was just infectious.”

Oscar raised an eyebrow, clearly intrigued. “So, you’re saying you might have a bit of a soft spot for her?”

“Maybe I do,” Lando shrugged and felt a blush creep onto his face, “she’s kind, genuine and really down-to-earth. It’s not everyday you meet someone who can handle all this racing stuff and meet someone famous and still make you feel like you’re talking to a friend.”

Oscar’s grin widened. “Sounds like you’re pretty taken with her. You know, it’s not just about the job. It’s nice to have those connections outside of racing, especially when you meet someone who makes the whole experience more memorable.”

“Yeah, exactly,” Lando nodded, his expression thoughtful. “It’s been a while since I felt this way with someone and seeing how happy Noah was today, it just added to everything.”

Oscar patted Lando on the back. “Well, if you’re interested in getting to know her better, you should definitely make an effort.”

“I think I will. I hope she texts me, I gave her my number and I really want to see if we can catch up one day.” Lando couldn’t help but smile, already looking forward to the possibility of hearing from Y/N. The thought of continuing their connection and seeing where it might lead was exciting and he hoped that today’s encounter would turn into something more...

___________________

Click here for Part 2

#ln4 x reader #lando imagine #lando norris x reader #lando norris imagine #lando x reader #lando norris #lando fluff #lando fic #lando x y/n #lando norris x y/n #landonorris #f1 fic #f1 fanfic

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purplereina11 · 1 month ago

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New Signing, New Beginning

Mia Larsen was Barcelonas new summer signing

Alexia Putellas is a club legend who just can't seem to talk to her

Mia Larsen was awoken gently by her grandmother cooking her favourite breakfast the smell filling her senses filling her body with warmth and comfort. She’d had a tough couple of weeks moving her whole life from England to the outskirts of Barcelona, to live in the spacious bungalow, it was an adjustment. She went from living alone following her rules and schedule to having to consider her grandparents and there strictly set regime they followed to the minute. If you didn’t know her grandfather was in the army it wouldn’t take you long to figure it out.

She threw the blankets off her body and set her feet in the slippers waiting at her bedside, the tiles were always incredibly cold on the bottom of her feet something in the mid-day heat she was thankful for. But when she’d just woken up, it was not appreciated especially since Mia wasn’t a morning person. Something her Grandparents learned the hard way.

She saw her Grandparents growing up, she was aware of them, she felt comfortable with them. But the two visits a year and the posted Christmas and birthday money didn’t make her comfortable enough to relax in there company when living with them.

Mia caught sight of herself in the pyjamas her grandfather spotted on the market and just had to buy them as he knew his little néta would just love them. It had been a long time since Mia had worn long sleeved pyjamas especially with animals plastered all over but never Donkeys on a lilac silk, they were hanging off her body her Grandfather getting a size to big.

She hated them. But she did find a little smile whenever she found they’d been washed and put back in her drawer.

“Bon dia estimada” Her Grandmother smiled, Mia smiling through tired eyes kissing her cheek.

“Bon Dia” She spoke softly back pouring herself the black coffee her Avia learned she had of a morning that was like a magic potion making her less grumpy so always made sure to have a fresh pot made for when she rose. “Bon Dia Avi” she spoke spotting her Grandfather at the dining table in front of the window with the view she’d never tire of, his glasses on his nose as he tried to complete todays crossword.

“Bon Dia amor” he smiled as Mia took her place on the bench under the window clutching her coffee cup.

“Don’t forget our neighbours have invited us for a barbecue this afternoon” Mia rose her eyes, “There’ll be people your age there, maybe you could make some friends”

“Yeah..” Mia lifted the mug to her lips before muttering, “Maybe” she trailed off in to her own thoughts of the significance the day held tomorrow.

She was officially signing for FC Barcelona after spending her entire career since the age of 14 playing for Arsenal.

Mia didn’t make friends, but when she was dropped off at the Barcelona training facility by her Grandfather like a kid on there first day of school she kissed his cheek and exited the car to a chorus of encouragement. It was a big deal Mia playing for Barcelona this season, her grandfather a life long Barcelona fan had spent his summer familiarising himself with the women’s team. He bought the scarfs the flags. He had his favourites. It was cute really, that he felt pride in her.

Mia was met with staff all very welcoming, she did all the formality all the shots for the media and even was taken on a little walk around of the facilities with Pere who was incredibly easy to talk to. She stood on the training field one leg outstretched in front of arms folded. She smiled as they spoke some of his coaching staff there also, her nationality was brought up when asked why she didn’t play internationally, “That’s a confusing one” She scratched her face, “My mum was born in Barcelona, my grandparents to, they still live here, my dad he was was from Norway and I’m technically English with being born there and living there my whole life.”

“So who you represent?”

Mia laughed her body moving as she did, she shrugged, “You tell me, it’s a mind field who’d I even choose”

“Ah Alexia”

Mia’s eyes were averted to the blonde Spaniard with tired eyes approaching with a small smile gracing her lips, she greeted the coaching staff before her attention was moved to Mia. Mia caught Alexia give her the once over before her hand outstretched in front of her as she approached.

“Mia, Encantat de conèixer-te” Alexia as she shook Mia’s hand looked a little taken a back then amusement showed on her lips her eyes softening.

“You speak Catalan?”

Mia shrugged, “A little, think saying I speak it is a stretch”

Alexia scratched her face moving to stand beside her, “Had me fooled” Alexia mumbled, she even had the accent with it, “They’ve shown you around?” Alexia reverted to English being told she was English, before shaking her head, “No?”

Mia nodded, “Yeah, pretty impressive facility, with a view to match” Alexia continued to make small talk with Mia, who felt a little bit of satisfaction when she made La Reina laugh even if it seemed a little forced from the stoic Catalan native. Ok laugh might be over doing it. She pushed air out her nose the edges of her lips curling ever so slightly as she looked at the ground arms folded. Did that count as a laugh?

Mia told her grandfather on the ride home she didn’t feel comfortable around Alexia, but that was just purely of who she was and her stature in the game and the fact you didn’t really get much back from her. She was on guard with her watching every word, how she held herself, she was her captain after all. And quite possibly the best female football player in the world. She was intimidated.

Mia was all smiles over dinner as her Grandmother had invited her Aunt Uncle and their children over to take her mind off the big day tomorrow. Her first training day with Barcelona, it was also a celebration dinner. It was a big deal there little Mia was now playing for the best club in Europe if not the world after the 6 months she had. It was nice to see her smiling.

On the other side of the city Alexia was at her Mami’s leaning on the kitchen counter in a death scroll on Instagram when she was supposed to be preparing the vegetables in front of her. Alba peeked over her elder sisters sister, “She’s cute.. who is that”

“New signing” Alexia muttered locking her phone putting it down and started the task she was set before her mami noticed and she got into trouble.

“Why were you on her instagram?”

“Research” Alba rose her eyebrows at Alexia as she sipped her water, clearly not believing her, “Met her today, just wanted to see what kind of person she is”

“And you couldn’t achieve that with the conventional method of a conversation?” Eli smiled chancing a glance at her girls, Alexias face spoke volumes, she didn’t like to be questioned.

“She was guarded”

“Wonder why” Alba was sarcastic as she turned, “Need me to do anything Mami?”

“Help your sister with that veg so we can eat this side of midnight”

Mia was dropped off by her Grandfather, “We’ll have to take you car shopping, you can’t keep getting dropped off by your L’Avi Mia”

Mia hummed looking out her window seeing many faces she’d watched play on the TV many times heading in all smiles greeting each other as they were excited for the new season to get going, Mia kissed his cheek opening the door, “I’ll see you later” she bolted out the car before all her resolve left her and she was left in the car with no confidence to walk into the club.

“Have a good day, show them what your made of”

Mia smiled “T’Estimo” she spoke leaning her head down to look into the car and shut the door, she didn’t hear her Grandfather drive away as she sorted her bag onto her shoulder and was making the walk to the entrance. She did however hear a car door

“Oh look what the cat dragged in”

Mia looked and smiled, Keira Walsh was heading towards her, her Grandfather smiled seeing her be greeted by one of the players with a warm hug, put his car into gear and left her to her first full day feeling less nerves for her.

“It’s good to see you” Mia spoke warmly as they parted from there embrace, Mia did play for Arsenal previously and was close friends with Leah Williamson, Keira’s best friend so they’d got to know each other over the years through Leah. She’d consider Keira a friend, they’d text often checking in.

Mia and Keira conversed, one that was constantly interrupted as Mia was getting players coming up to her to welcome her and do introductions. “I can’t believe you’ve lived here nearly 3 weeks and your yet to ask me to hang out with you” Mia smiled as she took a seat in her cubby that was thankfully next to Keira, Mia sent a little smile to Alexia who would be the other side.

“Bon dia” Alexia said with a little nod

“Bon Dia” Mia spoke before Keira noticed the interaction, “Well I can’t believe I’ve been here nearly 3 weeks and you haven’t asked me to hang out” Mia rebutted

“It’s kind of hard when you don’t follow people back on Instagram or give them your new number” Keira folded her arms sitting back Mia rummaging in her bag for something. “.. Katie McCabe” Mia paused her search, “I thought better of you than that Larsen”

Alexia moved her eyes from Mia to Keira then back again, “Yeah well, we all have lapses in judgement”

“That was some big lengthy lapse”

Mia sat up finding her drink finally, “I’d be careful, you know she’s your besties bestie” Keira just rolled her eyes as Pere came into the locker room to welcome them all back or welcome them entirely to the new season. He clapped when he was finished the girls following suit before he urged for them to get out onto the grass.

Mia finished tying her laces as the girls round her all rose to her feet, she wasn’t delaying the inevitable but she was making a meal of tying her laces. She needed to settle her nerves, something she didn’t often feel but she felt out of her depth surrounded by the greats of European football. She rose to her feet, Keira hovering at the door to the grass, as Mia stepped out she noticed Alexia was only just slightly ahead fixing her hair. “Ale” Keira called Alexia turned to the brits walking backwards, “Have you met Mia?”

Alexia simply nodded, “Yesterday” she turned and took off in a jog

“She’s not a morning person” Keira made the excuse jogging after Alexia asking her why she behaved the way she did, and she didn’t get a lot back from her captain. Mia lowered her head before picking up her pace, she was handed a bib on arrival assigning her to other players. Mia missed Alexia spotting Mia pull her bib on, removing her own and handing it off.

Over the next two hours, Alexia always seemed to be where Mia was, not once did she strike up a conversation with the new striker, Mia on a few occasions had caught Alexia looking at her. All she got was unsolicited advice or direction when Mia made eye contact. Some had been useful others were just plain obvious. Alexia seemed more bothered marking Mia than attacking with her team.

Mia felt it by the end of the training session, it was different to the last 13 years at Arsenal, she sat packing her bag up texting with her cousin about where she managed to pull up to collect her.

Mia bid a goodbye to the girls remaining in the locker room, most wanting to touch her hand, Patri with a big smile even gave her a hug, “Gets easier from here on out.. promise” seeing what kind of day Mia had, she held her own and impressed for her first day. But it seemed she struggled momentarily on each new task before Alexia had a word and then she took it in her stride and did her best, despite the looming captain always there. Watching and judging.

Mia paused ever so slightly as she was coming through reception and saw Alexia perched leaning on the desk. “Si uno” Alexia spoke.

She moved by her without a word before deciding to turn to her, “Alexia” she spoke softly, Alexia moved to face her, turning her whole body as she was addressed, “Thanks for your help today”

Mia felt her heart crunch in her chest when it appeared Alexia smiled ever so slightly, she put a fist towards her, “No problem” Mia touched it with her own pierced her lips together turned and left. She had hoped for a little encouraging word like Patri had.

Little did she know as she was met with a excitable hug from her cousin Alexia moved closer to the exit watching on wondering who she was hugging and why she got a hug and Alexia didn’t despite her admission she helped her today.

Over the week Alexia still seemed to keep Mia close but not seemingly making an effort to get to know her in anyway keeping it limited and formal the interactions. Mia had developed a friendship with a few of the girls, she felt more comfortable in the routine, she now knew where she needed to be what with without having to ask Keira constantly.

Keira looked as Mia came into the gym, “Mia” she waved her over across the gym, Mapi Leon made her laugh with a comment on the way over. Seemed they’d got an inside joke already. “What you doing after training?”

“Well” Mia popped a hip, “I’ve got a sudoku puzzle that’s calling my name back home”

Keira smirked, shaking her head, “You need to calm down” Keira smiled. Mia missed Alexia walking behind her but her perk ass caught her attention from Keira if only briefly when she was leaning over to grab a weight

“I really do” Mia smiled something that gave Alexia butterflies when she stood up straight weight in hand seeing it in the reflection of the mirror she stood before. She never smiled at her, Alexia probably would self combust if she did. It really made those Green with little flecks of blue eyes sparkle.

Mia looked to Alexia as she turned around, “Bon dia” Alexia spoke almost inaudible

“Bon dia” Mia said with a little nod, Keira just stared at Alexia as she seemed to want to start a conversation, Keira was thankful Ingrid called her name so she could leave the awkward situation. She needed to speak to Mia, Alexia was nothing but warm and welcoming with her.

“Your girlfriend’s cute” she said, her muscles pulsating with her holding the weight not that Mia would know she was in pure agony keeping her exterior calm as always. Mia was actually impressed she could hold the weight so casually. It made her bicep pop.

“My girlfriend?” Mia questioned with furrowed brows

“She picked you up from training Friday no?”

Alexia furrowed her own brows when Mia seemed to laugh at her even if it was gently also like she was trying to have a level of respect, “No, that was my cousin Julia.. she’s single”

Alexia jutted her chin in recognition, “She’s not my type” and with that Alexia turned to leave

“You said she was cute” Mia spoke stopping Alexia in her tracks, she caved and put the weight down before her arm dropped off.

“Yeah?”

“I assumed-“ Mia could see she wasn’t giving much back and to be honest her face held no expression which made Mia think she was pissing her captain off and gave up, “Never mind” Mia took a step, “I best go.. do” Mia sighed as she turned to go across the gym, she had no idea what she’d done. Alexia seemed to at least tolerate her the first day they met and now she could barely even do that. As she did her program she spent the whole time in her head replaying all the interactions in her head to try and figure out what she’d done wrong.

It wasn’t because she was new because she laughed and joked with the other new signing and overtly made an effort to speak to her and welcome her under her wing. Quite literally, like know the girl was tucked under her arm as they spoke with Pere.

She just seemed to be sizing Mia up and the more she did the more she seemed to not like what she saw. Maybe her Ex Katie was right, she wasn’t good enough for a team like Barcelona and it’ll be career suicide.

Alexia watched Mia, she seemed in her own head, she certainly wasn’t present in the room, she was doing what was supposed to. She wasn’t slacking by any means but the minute no one engaged with her, back into her head she went.

Once they got on the pitch Alexia resumed her normal habit, but this time it seemed Mia was catching on and would move away. Not so obviously but Alexia could tell a little glance in her direction and Mias feet would carry away to ask someone a question when she could have just asked her. Alexia grabbed a bib when Mia wasn’t provided with one. Mia looked over her shoulder when she heard Jana complaining she didn’t want an extra layer on when it was unseasonably warm. “I’ll take it” Mia smiled when Jana thanked her with a soft smile their hands grazing getting an electric shock making Mia laugh. Now that was music to Alexias ears almost so she almost missed her queue to join the mini match

Mia slipped it on as she stepped on the pitch in the mini match, she saw Alexia spot her and could see she didn’t seem to like the fact they were on the same team. If Alexia couldn’t even hack this how would she feel if Mia got game time which was feeling less and less likely with the attitude Alexia displayed towards her. Surely the captains word held validity some weight within Pere’s ear.

Mia got the ball in midfield after Alexia passed to her, she almost fumbled it not expecting it to come to her from that source. She one touched in between Mapi and Ingrid to Alexia running behind. “What a ball!” Pere exclaimed clapping as Alexia placed it in the back of the net, Mia turned smiling when Ingrid pretended to be pissed at her. Pere clapping exclaiming about Alexias finish.

Mia was walking fixing her hair, “Mia” she looked it was Alexia. “Good pass”

Mia nodded, “Gràcies” Mia missed the little smile Alexia mustered in her direction as she looked to Pere who was shouting directions at her.

Mia controlled the ball with one touch from Aitana in the centre out to her on the left hand side. She lifted her head spotted the move Alexia would make before she made it and hung the ball up in yet another perfectly weighted pass into the box for Alexia to get on the end of. And just that she did.

Pere blew the whistle and the teams switched Mias team getting a break, she was first to the water cooler grabbing her energy drink and moving away so the other players could get in to get to the drink container.

Mia looked as Keira touched her side, “Leah told me what happened, you ok?”

“Same drama different day” Mia smiled softly, “I’m fine, you don’t need to pander on your friends behalf, it was just a couple of texts”

“You should of told me”

Mia laughed softly putting the bottle back into the cooler, “I’ll be sure that you’re the first to know all about my dating life’s dramas”

Keira smiled greatly, “Please do.. it’s juicy”

“Fuck off” Mia shook her head with a smile as she turned around, Alexia didn’t like that Mias smile dropped as her head did when there eyes connected.

“Can i be next?” Maria asked with her sweet smile Mia couldn’t help but reciprocate.

“Sure” Mia touched her arm on the way past, “But it’s not that interesting”

Keira nodded, “It is, i’ll tell you later” Maria seemed intrigued as they headed back out to play yellow team this time.

Mia looked as Alexia went jogging by, Mia worked hard, she so desperately wanted to impress Alexia. She played balls she got into positions and set up so many of Alexia’s goals. She didn’t even take her own oppurtunties always squaring it for Aleixa. But she felt then maybe now she was sucking up and would that annoy just as much.

She felt like she couldn’t win.

Aitana gave her a high ten and hugged her, “You did good today”

“Thank You” Mia smiled moving along to smack other hands, she seemed to be following Alexia through the players and in the end she was the only one she didn’t high five.

It was really getting to her.

Everyone else spoke to her, said how well she was doing, some even asked if she wanted to hang out outside of training knowing she had no friends.

But she got nothing from Alexia.

Mia was sat in her room doing another sudoko, her phone lit up, it was Julia.

Get dressed, i’m coming to get you. We’re going for a drink.

I have training tomorrow

Don’t get drunk then, i’ll be 10 minutes

Mia felt self conscious as she sat in the bar with Julia and a couple of her friends, it was a pretty bar better than the dives she went to in London. The atmosphere was chill sophisticated beautiful decorated, every detail clearly meticulously planned and executed to high level. She felt a bit out of her depth but like the only other aspect she had in her life currently.

Mia even appreciated the wine glasses she ran her finger up and down the stem as she zoned out of the girls swooning over some girl they knew but couldn’t place.

“Mia” she rose her eyes to Julia, “What’s wrong? You’re not still pineing over Katie are you”

“God know, never did pine over her” Mia pulled a face, “My captain hates me and i don’t know why”

“It can’t be that bad”

Mia sighed and rambled about all the ways Alexia makes her feel inadequate like she doesn’t belong how she was an annoyance. How obvious she was making it she was sizing her up and disappointing her at every possible moment.

“It’s probably like an initiation or something to see how you react”

Mia stared at Julias friend, “She’s not like that with the other new signings”

“I don’t want to be the bearer of bad news but, i’m pretty sure she’s just walked in”

Mia looked over her shoulder, she swallowed. Yeah that was Alexia all right. Heading to the bar chatting to an older woman. Another a similar age to herself wandering behind.

“I need the toilet” Mia grumbled finishing her glass getting to her feet, she felt eyes bore into her as she walked through the bar. She was in her pink jacket short black skirt and biker boots her white socks just showing because apparently thats how the kids wore there socks these days. She was feeling herself so enjoyed the feel of someone paying her attention.

She was washing her hands delaying going back to the table in the hopes one of the girls would have gotten a round in so she wasn’t met with an empty glass.

She rose her eyes when one of the doors behind her opened, she gave a polite little smile to the women emerging that had been following Alexia.

“Disculpeu-me, teniu un tampó?”

Mia smiled nodding, “Si” she said to the woman’s request pulling a tampon out her bag, Mia laughed softly at the women telling her she was a lifesaver quickly dipping back into the cubicle.

Mia was drying her hands, she wasn’t stalling. At. All. This Putellas seemed a lot more friendly and for research purposes wanted to see if that was the case. As the women washed hers, her eyes rose in the mirror “I love your jacket by the way”

“Thank You”

“Where’s it from?”

“Zara” Mia told the exact store in Barcelona she found it in since she had the trauma of going to three as the others didn’t stock it when she’d popped into those.

“Gracias” The women slipped by as Mia held the door and they walked together, Alexia rose her eyes to see her little sister smiling with Mia at whatever she was saying to her.

Mia then laughed, “Si si” Mia pointed, “Si en necessiteu un altre, sóc allà mateix” She jerked her thumb over her shoulder, telling the woman where she was if she needed another tampon from her, she felt Alexia watching her as she turned to leave there eyes fell on each other. Mia never noticed how kind her eyes were before.. shame the facial expression she got didn’t match.

“Bona Tarda” She briefly pulled the corners of her mouth back very quickly that if Mia had blinked she would of missed

“Bona Tarda” Mia nodded the once before heading off, probably being friendly with her family was a nail in a coffin she was well and truly settled into with Alexia.

Alba sighed looking to Alexia, “Are you not playing nicely at work?”

“What did she mean if you needed another one?” Alexia asked a mix of confusion and annoyance on her face glancing to see Mia walking, she couldn’t help notice just how short the skirt was, her eyes running down her legs before them meeting back with Albas.

“I borrowed a tampon”

“Also” Alexia’s face scrunched her head shaking like something had just resinated in her brain, “Why do you automatically think it’s my fault?” Her hand came to her chest

“I know you and she was kind enough to lend a total stranger a tampon and tell me where i can buy her jacket because i really liked it”

Eli Alexia’s mother handed her a drink, “If i didn’t know any better i would think you looked nervous around her Ale”

“As if” Alexia pulled a defiant face sipping a drink, “Shall we go sit down?” Alexia walked away, Alexia had always been a little bit shy, her career helping massively with that but there were still shades of it at times. She’d never had to be worried about being shy around a woman, if she had been they’d made all the moves, started all the conversations. No matter how many times she made herself near Mia, Mia just didn’t seem to want to start a conversation. Everyone always wanted to talk to Alexia have her attention have a piece of her. The one person she found herself wanting to talk to and find all about, the English woman that could speak Spanish and Catalan, and according to Ingrid Norwegian as well. Just wouldn’t engage. It was infuriating, resulting in a somewhat sour mood with Alexia when she was around Mia. Mia was different. She was intriguing, not like the rest.

“Think you hit a nerve Mami” Alba smiled at her mother’s face as they sat with Alexia deep in her thoughts when they’d found where she stomped off to.

“Is she not fitting into the team Ale?” Eli asked hoping the blonde wasn’t the way she was because it was falling on her to try to intergrate someone who either wouldn’t or didn’t want to.

Alexia nodded, “No she is.. I was only saying to Pere today how seamless is seems, she’s picked up our style so quick, it takes others months to get it, also she makes me look great plays some great balls, she’s also gaining a lot of favour that she actually seems to understand the language”

Alba furrowed her brows, “What are you talking about?”

“She’s English”

“Fuck off!” Alba exclaimed, “I did not get that from our conversation”

“She only moved here 3 weeks ago”

“Oh wow” Alba seemed impressed, “Do you know what I did get from our conversation?”

“Go on” Alexia sipped her drink before placing it back down as Alba leant on the table.

“She’s hot and if you don’t do something about that.. I will”

“How many times? No more teammates, you make it so complicated when you get bored and ditch them” Alba laughed at her elder sister looking to there Mami for help, “I’m being serious Alba. No.”

“I’ve always stayed out of your drama and I will continue to do so” Eli sipped her drink, “Just talk to her Alexia.. you have something in common, football, start there its clearly bothering the girl. You don’t have to get into the personal, keep it about the team.”

“Thought you were staying out of it” Alba looked to her mother, who gave her youngest a look that sent her retreating into her self, “You do you mami” Alexia smiled and got a kick under the table for her trouble

Alexia looked over her shoulder her eyes landing on Mia almost instantly, Alexia was going to have to pull her big girl knickers on if she was to talk to her new teammate.

Part 2

#barcelona femeni #woso #alexia putellas #alexia x reader #alexia putellas x reader #barca femeni #Alexia Putellas fanfic #woso fanfics

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