#am i supposed to send it back to you? lol
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thisiskitta · 9 months ago
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Ask Game: List 5 things that make you happy, then put this in the askbox for the last 10 people who liked or reblogged something from you! get to know your mutuals and followers :)
Sorry, I didn't get to answer this til now. Thank you for sending this over to me! 1. My boyfriend. We've been together since January 2019. We knew eachother before that but we got closer in the fall of 2018 when I went through a really bad dental issue that made me sick for days unable to sleep and all that. He comforted me and was there for me that whole time. We are long distance, met online through a MMO and we're going as strong as ever. He's a fun guy and we can talk about anything, very open to eachother. We are very opposite but come together so well ^-^ He is so precious to me, treats me like no one ever has before and can make anything better. He is the sweetest man alive and I love him to pieces.
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2. My cat Luna. My #1 companion. I've raised her since birth as she is the sole kitten my dad's cat had. I lived with my dad at the time and Zara (luna's mom) would bring Luna under my bed covers when she was like 3 days old. I had struggles trying to keep her in a safe space that she wouldn't just bring the kitten back in my bed. I even put the box with blankets in my bed and it didn't stop it lol. Luna is VERY attached to me due to this. A very clingy & affectionate cat. She always is near me and she sleeps on top of my butt/legs when I go to bed lol. She has a great fun personality and is so pretty. 3. Playing games. I mean a bit of a duh. I am definitely a gamer™ from MMO to single player RPG, narrative focus, to survival building to cozy games. I go with obsessive phases where all I want to play, do and consume is related around the game I am into at the moment. I've recently come back to The Sims franchise which I played for thousands upon thousands of hours where I was a kid/teenager (the sims 2 and the sims 3 being my big ones) but quit on the launch of Sims 4 because I hated what had been done by EA. I love the way the game is now and I am having a lot of fun with it. 4. Rain. I am a huge pluviophile. It will literally soothe my brain. I listen to soft rain videos when I have bad anxiety or unable to sleep (ADHD being a huge issue for my sleeping and rain sounds help focus my brain and relax instead of wandering in the highspeed rail train of thoughts I get lol) I even spent some time trying to figure out why it has such an effect on me and I think I cracked the code. I think it's the subconsciousness feeling of safety being inside while it's "not good" outside. That feeling of coziness the rain instantly gives. But I can't explain why I love it so much lol the sound, even the visuals. Gifs of rain give me instant good vibes. 5. Watching a bad movie with my online friends. Like a so bad it's good type of movie. Think The Room and... the Twilight saga (I'm sorry girls/boys/nbs) We laugh so freaking hard and it is such a good time.
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bmpmp3 · 5 months ago
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#art#traditional art#watercolour#fanart#virvox project#shirakami kotarou#kurono takehiro#vocal synth#voicevox#another one based off the memories of some post i saw a while back. i was like possessed. to redraw vsynth characters in popular posts#also low key this was what it was like being 22 in university classes full of 18-19 year olds for a bit there LHJSKHJFSDAjdfs#THEY WERE nicer about it. but sometimes they would find out my age and i could see the 'grown ass' flicker across their eyes#especially when they topic of discussion was shit like sororities and me not knowing shit about it. in my defence i was 1) confused about#'greek life' for a while because i am mixed race and kind of ambiguous irl so i just assumed it was a like a cultural based society thing#(we have a lot of those in my school its very multicultural) and they made an incorrect guess about my ethnicity again and 2) when I DID#finally figure out what the hell 'greek life' was supposed to be i signed up cause a friend asked me to but i missed the first day of#orientation cause i was sick and then the sororities started sending really passive agressive emails to me so i got scared off LOL#random sorority sidetrack aside. it was really funny when i was like yeah i dont really understand the whole deal#and a classmate was like oh well yeah i guess you wouldnt have the experience how old are you again like 18?#and i was like........................................................i turned 23 a month ago <:3c#and her face journey as she realized i was like 3-4 years older than her.... my apologies my dearest classmate#sowwy for being in my early 20s. it wont happen again <3
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rawliverandgoronspice · 7 months ago
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#thoughts#personal#mental health tw#it's complicated because I both want to address how fucking unhinged I very publically am at the moment#for which I am sorry if you have noticed#and also Not do that and pretend my weirdass behavior flies under the radar and I am being So Very Normal Right Now#which I feel we are past that point but also maybe who cares I don't think people notice but You Know#you get in the thought loop and then it's over#I used to have a private twitter to have weird meltdowns full of me immediately deleting everything I posted#and then I went “wow!! this is not happening anymore!! look at me being an adult about it!!”#and uhh lol#I didn't want it to happen here it's very humiliating to know you are Like This and not being able to affect it much#this too shall pass I suppose#normal posting (???) will resume shortly#I just get super manic when I have mental health cocktails like this + my brain Will Not let me sleep and I need to distract myself#all I want to say is: I'll be normal again at some point probably#it was on slow cook since maybe 9 months and baby it's here now#I'm supposed to go to my first industry event RIGHT after a very very tense burial and I'm already so disheveled like girl what#I'm so going to begin screaming at an industry legend for no reason and then immediately lock myself in a bathroom#anyway. common sense and self control will be back soon#and there are good chances I'll delete this post too at some point!! but. yeah.#it is what it is tm#hope you are as okay as could be#and if not all the courage and strength your way#sending many angry blue ganonpigs your way too. hope that helps! somehow!
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pardonmydelays · 10 months ago
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fave lyrics from "who lives, who dies, who tells your story"?
(this is the last song and i'm emotional just thinking that we're ending this little tradition, because it has become a part of my daily routine as well)
ONE LAST TIME! RELAX! HAVE A COFFEE DRINK WITH ME! ONE LAST TIME!!! 😭 i can't believe it's over. ok, let's go:
let me tell you what i wish i'd known when i was young & dreamed of glory, you have no control: who lives, who dies, who tells your story - i already want to scream
when my time is up, have i done enough? - can't help but think of pierre bezukhov & his was i kind enough & good enough, did i love enough? (i'm sorry but these are the questions i am always asking myself)
can i show you what i'm proudest of?/THE ORPHANAGE - i am seriously done, so basically this song is just eliza making me cry more & more with every line
in their eyes i see you, alexander - DAMN IT ELIZA
bonus: i want you to listen to my wife phillipa talking about eliza's gasp at the end of the musical:
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i love her so much i can't even. & also, since eliza turns out to be the most important, i thought it would be nice to end this series with a video of her. one last time, enjoy.
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xlatrina · 3 months ago
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Show Me
Tags: 16(+)* (*Minor kissing, nothing crazy fr), Gender Neutral Reader (despite canon), Words of Affirmation/Sweet Talk, basically fluff
Not proofread so… hopefully no typos or clunky sentences anywhere lol. Mr. Crawling is being “high-maintenance,” as always, lol. After playing this game for HOURS, I just couldn’t help but crave more content. Buuuutt, given that the game is more or less finished (as far as I understand), I simply had no other choice but to do as writers who play VNs do and WRITE. This is my first “Canon x Reader” fic (well, formally, at least) too, so… please be kind 😅 Anywho, enjoy!
$$$ $$$ $$$
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Mr. Crawling leaps into your arms with such speed that the bed smacks into the wall. A shake travels through the room, jostling the single photo hanging from the gray, textured surface. His hair falls against your skin, the bed sinking in a bit as you feel his body drag over your own. Every breath that reaches your face is cool, no thanks to the room you’re in.
“I enjoy you,” He chirps. His head comes to rest in the crook of your neck. The smell of metal fills your nose, and you scowl for a moment before your face relaxes. It’s a smell you'll simply have to get used to, especially now that you’ve promised to be his.
His body ever so slightly warms yours, though the blankets do more of the work. “I enjoy you,” he says again. “You enjoy me?”
“I enjoy you, Mr. Crawling.” You loosely run a hand through his dark hair. Surprisingly, your fingers only get caught about twice, and the small knots aren’t too hard to pull apart.
“You lots enjoy me?” Suddenly, the cold draft flying through hits your neck as Mr. Crawling lifts his head. Though, you never see his eyes: only the growing festers that conveniently disappear right at his bangs. He tenses in your arms, and you’d think the air froze him or something if it weren’t for his soft, whistling breaths. Mustering up a little smile, you cup his face with your hands.
“I lots enjoy you.” He giggles like a little schoolgirl, his grin stretching from ear to ear.
“Show!” He shouts.
“Huh?”
“I enjoy you, you enjoy me. Am happy lots you come here. I lots enjoy you being together me. You say you lots enjoy me, Ϛօ show!” He bursts each sentence out right after the other, and the bed squeaks from his shifting body as his arms reach around your torso. Show… Ah, that’s what he meant. He wants you to prove it.
For a moment, you frown. How exactly were you supposed to “prove” something like that?
Noticing your face, Mr. Crawling frowns as well. “You ok? No want to do?”
You shake your head and smile reassuringly. “I want to do. I can show you.” This shouldn’t be too hard. In fact, it’ll be easy… so long as Mr. Crawling doesn’t decide to use those sharp teeth of his.
Pulling him forward by his face, you two stare at each other. You focus on Mr. Crawling —first, his gaze, somewhere behind that curtain of hair, and then his lips. They’re ever so slightly purple, just like his cheeks that have become a little warmer while pressed against your palms.
Your eyelids lower as your lips graze his, the small sensation alone sending a shock throughout your body. Is Mr. Crawling feeling the same way? He’s tense all over again. “You ok?” You ask.
Quietly, he responds, “Am ok.”
You close your eyes, breathing in that slightly metallic smell. You exhale, and then pull Mr. Crawling firmly into your kiss. He remains stiff for a while until a muffled sound escapes him. His arms wrap around you tighter. He finally allows his body to fall limp against yours, and just as this happens, you pull back. A little smack bounces through the room. Lying upon your chest, Mr. Crawling drags himself a little closer to your face. Seizing the opportunity, one hand reaches to brush across his hair and the other remains on his cheek. Your thumb rubs against his face in slow, winding circles. Then, you pull his face even closer, catching him into a trap as you lock lips again. Both of you hum contentedly, the sound only accompanied by smacks and the fluorescent light buzzing above. Suckling his bottom lip, you tease him with a strong pull. He sighs into your kiss, and when you finally free him, he chases you.
“… Finished?” He asks. He seems to be pouting a little, already missing the sensation.
“Finished. You now know I enjoy you?” You ask. More or less: do you believe me now?
Mr. Crawling pauses, and then he giggles —much louder than before! He plops his head into the crook of your neck again.
“I know now,” he says. You bring your hand up to join the other in stroking his hair.
The two of you lie together this way for a while, enjoying the silence and the closeness. That is, until you eventually fall asleep and Mr. Crawling leaves your embrace to watch from afar.
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wavesmp3 · 2 years ago
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enhard · 7 months ago
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park sunghoon — “code red”
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let it fall, call it code red
: you send your boyfriend some risky photos, knowing he’s about to perform in front of thousands. the punishment you’ll get is well deserved.
pairing: bf!p.sh x fem!reader
cw: smut, unprotected sex, creampie, mentions about multiple rounds, sunghoon using your body for his own pleasure, he ties up your hands, degrading kink, hair pulling, slight masturbating, sending explicit photos and texts, lots of teasing.
not proofread, enjoy! (MDNI)
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it’s been an hour ever since you kissed your boyfriend goodbye, wishing him luck at his upcoming concert. an hour ever since you couldn’t stop thinking about him, closing your eyes just to imagine him being right there between your legs.
you’re laying down on your bed, the need to touch him sinking you in the mattress. you sit up to look into the mirror that’s by the bed, deciding to tease him a bit.
you know that he’s with his members right now, having to perform any second.
you keep looking at your body in the mirror, lifting your undershirt just enough to show your abdomen. you take off your shorts, leaving yourself in your panties.
biting your lip, you open your camera app. you lay back down in your bed to take a few pics from the neck down. your boobs sit so nicely for the picture, almost like knowing you’re taking them for your love.
after you take some pics, even a short video for you holding your phone up with your right hand while running your left hand all over your body. you slightly smile and the camera picks it up perfectly for him.
you squeeze your thighs together, starting to grind on your own panties while thinking about him again.
you quickly open up the texting app, seeing that he was active 2 minutes ago. “perfect” you mumble to yourself, letting out small sounds as you’re squeezing your thighs tighter.
you send him a little text first, to see if he’d reply in the first place.
hey baby are you still backstage?
heyy my love yeah im still here, they’re delaying the concert a few minutes lol. what’s up?
oh if he knew right there.
mm i’m glad then, i miss you alreadyyy 😓
🫣 what do you mean by that darling?
and then you just go for it. you smile as you send him one photo of the ones you took, along with that short video. the blinding red led light hovering over your skin.
as soon as he sees the photos, he covers his phone screen to not leak it to anybody by accident.
he gulps, examining every part of your body visible. oh how he wishes he could throw kisses all over your pretty body. he hates what you’re doing to him but oh how much he loves how hot you look for him.
he can feel his bulge getting harder with each passing second staring at the material you sent him, looking down and cursing under his breath.
he immediately texts you back, struggling already.
you fucking slut, you got me hard already how am i supposed to perform now?
you smile even harder at his text, travelling your hand down to your panties just to rub yourself. you want him inside you badly, but teasing him is equally as fun.
letm help u get rid of it go smwhere whereno one can see u ;)
i don’t have time, if i get caught you’re so dead whore. i’m coming home right after this but why are you typing so weird all of a sudden?
ifs hard typingwuth one hand love 😜
oh you have no idea what you’re doing to me right now. when did i let you touch yourself? you’ll see what will happen when i get home. you better be all ready cause you’re not going down easy.
you don’t get to even text back, cause you get another few ones from him.
fuck i need to perform now
you’re getting punished when i get home
ill fuck you so good you’ll need me all the time from now on
you better not cum until i get home
you close your eyes, replaying his texts in your mind on repeat as you rub your panties faster. you keep his promise on not cumming, figuring you already pissed him off enough already.
your nipples get hard from the cold air coming from the open window. you get such heat in your stomach you can’t tame, only way you can tame it now is by letting sunghoon do whatever he wants to you.
you wonder the whole time how he performed with a boner but he did quite well, hiding it as well as he could. of course all he could think about was you.. those photos you sent floating in his mind on loop.
he forgot a few lyrics here and there being too preoccupied remembering the curves on your body he loved so much. how he was going to trace his fingers over every bump and curve on it.
feels like hours passed since his concert started, but the concert’s duration was only an hour, way shorter than the usual concerts he holds.
when they were done performing, backstage he quickly changed his clothes and took his things to run home. he didn’t even care enough to greet his members, all he wanted was you.
when you hear the front door open, you almost squeal out of excitement. you fix up your hair a bit, covering yourself with the blanket on your bed.
he drops all his things just to burst through the bedroom.
he eyes you up and down, his gaze changing suddenly when he sees you.
he walks over to you, already talking his jacket off.
“let me give you what you want love, you deserve it.” he growls, dragging you out of bed. your body gets exposed to him like this, and he can’t help but run his hands all over you. he picks you up just to squeeze you between him and the wall. you feel his hard cock against your panties as he’s smirking.
you grab onto the collar of his shirt, whining at him. “pleaseee fuck me already. i was a good girl, i didn’t cum yet.” you feel proud of yourself, and he gives you a kiss for that.
“you are a good girl, but not good enough for me not to punish you. know that right?” you nod. but you don’t mind. you wrap your arms around his neck, hoping for the best.
he throws you back onto the bed, getting on top of you. he doesn’t hesitate taking off his shirt while smiling at you. he leans in for another kiss before running his hands up your undershirt to cup your breasts. he plays with them, tugging on your nipples and pinching your skin. you know how much he loves them, and you love when he plays with them. then he just takes off your undershirt, wanting to see them in their glory.
you try reaching to touch his abs, but he quickly takes off his belt to tie your hands above your head with it. you look at him while pouting but he doesn’t buy any of it.
“no pouting and no touching slut, this is what you get. next time watch what you do.” you nod, looking down.
as he’s about to take your panties off, he notices how wet you are, scoffing.
“talk about me being hard, look at you slut. you’re so wet just for me.. that’s how i love it.” he chuckles, sliding them off you too easily.
he parts your legs, rubbing your pussy a bit before inserting his fingers inside you.
you instantly moan, bouncing up and down trying to move around on his fingers.
he slaps your pussy, making you stop. “did i tell you to do that? oh you’re getting on my nerves whore. sit still before i have to tie you up whole.”
you gulp, apologising in a sweet voice. “im sorry.. daddy.” he clicks his tongue. “that’s better. keep your legs open for me.” he takes his fingers out of you, leaving such emptiness within you.
he takes off his pants and boxers in one move.
he’s way too needy to waste time right now, but he’s down to teasing you any time.
he starts fisting his cock, right with you watching with your legs open. he gives himself deep strokes, groaning a bit with each one. you’re sitting there craving his cock too bad to be cutting with this right now. you start doing what you’re best at, whining.
“what are you doing… please fuck me alreadyyyy i feel way better than your hand pleaseee..” you’re pathetic whining and begging like that, but it does the job in convincing him.
without saying a word, he shoves it all inside you. he doesn’t give you any time to adjust, making you scream out of frustration.
“you stretched yourself enough with your fingers thinking about me, be quiet before i make you keep your mouth closed.”
you try keeping quiet as he’s thrusting into you at whatever pace he wants, moaning every few thrusts. the heat in your stomach gets more and more unbearable, you let out small noises and he’s fine with that.
“you’re such.. a slut..begging me.. to fuck you.. you’re all mine.” you nod frantically.
“..i’m all yours… only yours.. fuck daddy pleaseee..”
he picks his pace up upon hearing the new nickname you chose again, pulling at your hair little by little.
you clench around him as you’re about to cum and he keeps your legs wide open, grabbing them harder. “let me.. make you cum pretty girl..”
and you do just that, you furrow your eyebrows as you cum all over him. all over his abs and the covers.
he hisses as you’re cumming, enjoying your quiet moans.
he leans in to rest his head in the crook of your neck, fucking into you even faster than before.
you wrap your legs around him, expecting for him to cum soon.
you’re right, and without saying a word he’s convinced you’re letting him cum inside you.
he thrusts into you a few more times before letting out a moan as he’s cumming in you filling you up.
you roll your eyes back, enjoying the feeling too badly.
after a bit he sits up, making you sit on his lap. your arms still tied, you give him a kiss.
“i’ll use you the whole night you whore, you’ll regret sending those pictures.” he says in a low voice.
you’re willing to let him use you, this was your reasoning on why those photos exist. you want him to use you, knowing that you give him more pleasure than anyone could.
you just smile, knowing your plan worked.
“use me up, cum inside me just how you love it. until you stop seeing red.”
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captainreecejames · 7 months ago
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So Long, London || My Ex is a Footballer MV1
[masterlist][my ex series masterlist][written version]
summary sometimes your childhood sweatheart doens't work out, and that leads you to your true love.
pairings ex!ben chilwell x reader, max verstappen x reader faceclaim danielle campbell
warnings cursing, j*s mentioned, some hate
notes I love this so much I hope you guys like it too. Also this is now going to get a written version because I need to write the angst of ben x reader and how we got to max x reader
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ynusername posted ------
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liked by maxverstappen1 benchilwell and others
ynusername thank you to redbullracing for having me in the garage! always love visiting the paddock
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redbullracing we loved having you for the weekend! stop by soon
username1 what did you get maxplained about? ↳ ynusername huh? ↳ username1 it's when max traps people into conversations cause he can't stop explaining stuff to them ↳ ynusername ooohh lol I just asked him about sim racing ↳ username1 NOO girl got roped into simracing
username2 Ben in the likes 😭😭😭
username3 benjamin come get your girl!! She's being rizzed up by a vroom vroom man
redbullracing send us those pictures you took of max on the podium 🙏 ↳ ynusername I gotchu!
maxverstappen1 loved having you! ↳ schecoperez yes yn! Visit again soon 👍 ↳ ynusername if you two insist ☺️
scuderiaferrari stop by our garage again, we have the good gelato ↳ ynusername don't threaten me with a good time
username4 yn tifosi real? ↳ ynusername well I can't argue with the goat Sebastian vettel so 🤷‍♀️ ↳ redbullracing yeah but we had him first
mercedesamgf1 yn we have another goat if you want to hang out with us ↳ username5 yn really has f1 admins fighting over her in the comment section
chelseafc don't forget your first love yn ↳ leicestercity she won't. we love and miss you yn 💙 ↳ username5 no now she has football team admins here 😭
max's whatsapp messages -------
max emilian charles, is alex going to the jeddah gp?
charles perceval dude, he's driving
max emilian you know that's not what i meant
charles perceval ooooohhh yes, she's going
max emilian cool can we introduce her to yn
charles perceval is yn making her debut as a wag
max emilian you know i hate that word
charles perceval oop yeah, we can introduce them
max emilian thanks
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ynusername posted -----
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liked by charles_leclerc, schecoperez and others
ynusername not how I expected our relationship to be revealed but okay here goes nothing, everyone meet my boyfriend max
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username6 charles is not beating the lestappen allegations, why did he like this so fast? ↳ username3 especially on post just of max
username7 why yn making max kinda...? ↳ username8 i was not a max girlie but now I see it
username9 how am I f1 girlie now?? yn you've bewitched me ↳ username10 the vampire diaries to f1 pipeline ↳ username9 don't forget the pit stop at chelsea fc
username11 yn is making me a fan of sports by dating these men, stop that
redbullracing new max verstappen fan account?? ❤️ by ynusername
scuderiaferrari I guess we won't get you in the garage anytime soon? ↳ ynusername can I still get some good gelato? ↳ scuderiaferrari we guess ↳ ynusername ❤️
maxverstappen1 schatje 😒 ↳ ynusername love you babe 💙❤️
username12 yn... you were supposed to get him away from the skinny jeans, not wear them as well ↳ ynusername oops! 😅
username14 clocking in to start my shift as yn's biggest defender
username13 moving on real fast ↳ username14 I know you're not saying that 18 months is fast
username15 homie hopper ↳ username14 bitch? max and ben aren't friends, they barely even know each other
carlossainzjr no mention for the race winner? ↳ landonorris or me? ↳ ynusername i mean, congrats? 😅
twitter-------
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ynusername posted-----
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liked by landonorris, masonmount and others
ynusername congrats charles on the Monaco win, but we come back in Canada 💪🏼
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maxverstappen1 why those pictures? ↳ ynusername cause you're my cutie pie
charles_leclerc thank you yn! see you in montreal
username21 yn feeding us max girls with the boyfriend content
masonmount missed you yn! save me a ticket at silverstone ↳ ynusername ill see what i can swing mase 😂
username22 did you see what ben said about you? ↳ username23 girl she literally talked to him, of course she knows what he said
username26 not ben and max fighting over our girl yn ↳ username14 they're not fighting, max already won
username30 cause of death? that last slide
benchilwell tough race for red bull, but good to see you yn! ↳ ynusername thanks ben ↳ username26 she used to call him benny or chilly or b, never ben 😭😭 ↳ username14 tough shit, she's with max now
username27 the difference between her comment to mason and to ben, bring our family back together please
username28 congratulates charles on the win but not carlos in australia, she really is part of the lecfosi ↳ ynusername I've versed myself in the fan terms since mexico, sorry to disappoint but I'm just happy for the hometown hero ↳ charles_leclerc I'm not sneaking you anymore gelato ↳ ynusername booooo 👎🏻👎🏻
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pathologicalreid · 1 month ago
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merry christmas, please don't call | s.r.
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in which Spencer pens an email to you, since you've already blocked his phone number
who? spencer reid x fem!reader category: angst content warnings: nondescript break up, described as spencer's fault, reader is mentioned to have worn lipstick, yearning, word count: 907 a/n: and the worst part is!!! that we both know!!!!! we are doing kind of an unofficial margotmas/reidmas! really i've just been building up christmas ideas for a while lol
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To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Merry Christmas
Hey,
Spencer shook his head, that was too casual.
Good afternoon,
Much too formal.
Hello,
Too rigid.
Darling,
I passed by the house that you told me you adored. It used to be your dream house; you’d always show me the Zillow listing whenever you were browsing. The owners didn’t put up their Christmas lights this year, and it looks like they’re getting ready to sell. I haven’t been online to check the listing, that was always your thing rather than mine.
Do you remember the house? It had four bedrooms for our kids to sleep in and a library with stained-glass windows. You always told me the stained-glass windows were your favorite feature of my apartment. I keep it covered now; the colored glass just serves as a painful reminder of you.  
Emily called me last week. I suppose no one told her that we weren’t together anymore because she asked what our holiday plans were. I haven’t made any since you left. I’m finding myself hopeful that we get called on a case over Christmas so that I don’t need to be surrounded by the world celebrating while I continue to wallow in the memories of you and me.
That’s all I have now: memories. We made so many of them over the course of three years that I don’t know what to do with them. I’ve always had the sneaking suspicion that having an eidetic memory is a curse just as much as it is a blessing, but with you gone, I know it’s more of a curse. I see you when I close my eyes as if your features have been permanently tattooed on the back of my eyelids, but when my eyes are open, everything is exponentially worse.
You left in such a hurry, so you were bound to leave a few things behind. When I went to make a cup of coffee and found one of your mugs in my cabinet, JJ and Penelope had to practically scrape me off the kitchen floor. There was still a lipstick smudge on it, a piece of our history the dishwasher couldn’t quite wash off. Your necklace was on the bedside table, though maybe that was left behind on purpose. I wish we could go back to the day I gave it to you, you could wear the same green dress, and maybe work wouldn’t get in the way. If I could, I’d call you to ask why you left it behind, but you’ve blocked my number.
There was no need for you to leave me things to remember you by, how could I ever forget you?
I’ve been finding myself grateful that you got so close with Garcia during our relationship, she doesn’t give me any explicit details on your life when she updates me. I never ask, but she knows I want to hear.
It’s a rather odd phenomenon to have once had someone who you shared everything with, only to one day find they want nothing to do with you. I always find myself reaching for my phone to send to a message, or leaning over to show you a line in my book, but you’re not there anymore. I don’t hold any malice in my heart for you, even after you called it all off. My biggest regret is that I couldn’t be the boyfriend that you needed, and I’m proud of you for realizing you wanted someone better. I’m sorry I couldn’t be better.
Maybe I still have some growing up to do. There might be some sort of emotional stunting as a result of my less-than-orthodox upbringing and education, which makes sense when you consider two of my most common nicknames, “boy genius” and “kid.” One day I could find myself in the same place you were, ready for more, but maybe then I’ll be with someone who is ready for the same things as I am. She’ll never be you though. You’ll always hold that special place in my heart.
Speaking of my upbringing, my mom keeps asking about you. Each time we talk on the phone, she asks if she can talk to you, but I’ve been telling her that you’re still working or are otherwise preoccupied. I know I shouldn’t lie to her, but if I tell her, she’ll inevitably forget, and I’ll be forced to recount the story of how I lost the best thing to ever happen to me forever. That would be my eternal damnation. There’s Sisyphus and Tantalus and Spencer Reid, slowly becoming nothing but a myth. I wonder if I’m a story that you tell your friends at O’Keefe’s.
I go there sometimes, just to see if I can catch your gaze, but you’re never there.
I know this is your favorite holiday, and I don’t intend to ruin your holidays with my message. I suppose I just needed to see if you still dream about that house. To see if you still dream of me the way I dream of you.
Merry Christmas,
Spencer
He clicked send nervously, ready to snap his work-issued laptop shut when it chirped with a notification. Surely you hadn’t responded that quickly. Spencer opened his inbox once more, checking the latest email.
To: [email protected] From: [email protected] Subject: Delivery Status Notification (Failure)
Message blocked.
Your message to [email protected] has been blocked. See technical details below for more information.
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deesseshesca · 2 months ago
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PAC : Letter from your pregnant self. (18+)
Mama said it was ok ... mama said it was quite alright .
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BUNDLE READINGS.
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✨ Down to My Core ✨
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PILE 1
It was supposed to be you pregnant but you came through in the hospital the evening after giving birth. You are actually talking to your baby girl.
‘’ Damn I thought it was early menopause. You should have seen my face when the doctor came back in the room after putting way too much finger in my hole. Honestly I should have guessed it when the nurse and the medical tech looked at each other with smirk while my husband and I were going crazy over my future illness. I hope you don’t hate me as I am holding you in my arms. I can’t help but admire you. I gave up on the idea of having my dream baby girl a long time ago. I know it is not fair I should have fought for you but I could not let the emptiness get to me. You know I have to be a mother to your big brothers. LOL! I remember their disgusted and concerned faces when I told them I was pregnant again. ‘’ Mama you are still doing the nasty’’ that’s what (the name of your second boy) said. Honestly I am not sure what I was expecting from anyone. The first thought that came to my mind is the fact that I am only in my mid 30. What the heck, for sure I love riding it. Actually been loving riding it. Since forever. He is the first man I ever trusted … the only I ever gave my heart. It was my first time after a very awful experience but I probably will never tell you about it but I will forever protect you against all thoses abusers out here. Ain’t no way they are touching my daughter  but your dad … he’s different. I am so happy I chose the right man to have my babies with. The way he looks at me with so much longing in eyes, the soft touch, waking me up everyday by getting your siblings ready and making my coffee so I can have some time for myself. The way he literally dedicated a whole wall in our house for pictures of our wedding like he doesn't already have 3 pictures of me and the kids on his desk at work, like he doesn't have a picture of us in his wallet and in his car. Sometimes I pinch myself when I cook and I look at my husband playing with my kids, being affectionate and their safe place because it was never like that. I never grew up like that. I used to wish on my lucky stars that I make it out of my abusive household and now I am thriving in an overabundant and loving household. Is not always easy because your dad has a demanding job but he will NEVER but none of y’all second. It doesn't matter if he is busy in a meeting or overseas, he always calls, answers texts, sends gifts, even writes letters. He always fixes his schedule to be at your siblings' competition. Honestly I am scared of the length he is ready to go for you. Actually all of them are ready to go to crazy length for you. Nah I am serious he organized the baby shower in a luxurious resort. The gender reveal happened on a helicopter ride before taking me to a 5 star hotel and showering me with gifts. Your siblings are always telling me to sit down, that they can do it, that I need to keep my energy and that they need to protect me . Damm… last time I checked I am the parent but I didn't talk back. Because miss girl you were not an easy pregnancy. High blood pressure, back pain, extreme moodiness and early labor. Like girls we get it … you were in a hurry to come to your palace but you did not have to do my body like that. Or maybe you punish me because I decided that I was infertile after a couple years with no success. I let you go. Stop fighting for you. You and your little button noise, smooth  forehead, full head of hair and pouty lips are more than worth it. This pregnancy did not feel real at first. I did not want to believe it. I was sure that it was a mistake or my blessing was going to be taken from me. Yeah… you trigger my old survival instinct. Thank God for you dad, holding my hand, telling me that everything is going to be ok  and allowing me to take my time accepting my truth. Validating how I feel because by the second semester I was more than overjoyed and confident. You are mine, my blessings and worth every ounce of goodness coming ... my precious miraculous babygirl.
XOXO
Your mama’’ 
So many nasty messages came through but y'all … I know you would never talk like that to your baby. 
The baby was created a random day after a cuddle fuck (for many anal cuddle fuck). After putting the kids to sleep, doing your night routine with your husband and cleaning the room (you don’t joke about that re-start routine because otherwise the mornings are way too chaotic in the morning) you bring yourself to the bed and decide to seduce your man with kisses and caress. Honestly it does not take a lot for your husband to be seduced by you. He and I love the fact that you still try to make marriage feel sexy with the booty shorts, sometimes having your makeup done, other times you go all out and have lunch at his work to tease him. You are litteraly his sexual fantasy like even when y’all are going to be more mature he's not going to look at younger girls (some people in this pile are scared that their husband will entertain younger girls. Never babe they are HOOK on you. Not just love or respect for the mother of their child. You have the pusy power over that mind. All he sees is you!). After a sweaty, loving but still rough session little miss finally came to you. 
You guys are going to have an amazing  sex life with your husband don’t worry your kids are never going to know (y’all get down. Y’all don’t mind calling the nanny to have ‘’sex weekend’’). In the adult world the way y’all look at each other, joke with each … you guys chemistry (y’all just look the fuck good together) people know you fucking fucking. 
Also if you read : PAC : Your dream reality, there's also glimpse of the same future channeled.
PREVIOUS READING
2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)
3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK
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PILE 2
‘’ Bitch WTF ! You know what life got me fucked up in all type of way. Almost like God wanting to make a joke out of me. As I am speaking, I am sitting in this comfy couch in my living living in my house,  fat as fuck, mean mugging my husband. You heard me right. HUSBAND ! I don’t even know when that shit happens. Like when did I fell in love. I mean I was never against love but think about it. Living in your dream house, enjoying yourself and you are waking up turning to your side and you see a big fat head. Let me tell you, it is not between your thighs. Nah is cuddling and calling you ‘’honey’’. EW GET THE FUCK OFF ME. It was supposed to be only a FWB but you know how men move when they have a taste of this punani. They be hearing colors, seeing starts and talking in tongues , thinking I can heal their attachment issues. Ok let me give credit where it is due … he was actually different. He made me do things I don’t usually do like talking about my feelings, eating 3 times a day and being affectionate. I swear I never gave as many hug as I did with him. LOL ! From all the billion penises on this planet I had to fall in love with the clingy one. He loves hugging me, kissing me … just being stuck on me. Before I knew it I had a ring on my finger. I even kissed him in front of my damm family. Like I am a bad bitch, a  cold ass bitch, a cool hoe not basic lucy that’s all love and light. Guess he was so good to me that I said ‘’Yes I do’’. That I could forgive. I could understand the house, the ring, the love and partnership but the baby … the baby. THE DAMM FUCKING BABY. You know what is going to do to my dream body and my mom is talking about a second one. Babe hell nah to the nah nah. This hourglass figure is not going to waste. Somewhere I guess it is my fault … Ok … So what shoot me … I LOVE SEX. I LOVE WHEN HE HITS RAW. Is that so wrong? I hate birth control… bitch my opp frl. ALways trying to give me acne or making me fat. What about him and his breeding kink ? Don’t look at me like that. I always liked it rough and nasty but … the consequence. I did not think … Bitch I am only a girl. I am a teeneager in her late twenties. Like somebody called Dr.Phil … I am losing it ! I guess I would have been more careful but there’s something about having my hair pulled, my body bound, my pussy being overstimulated and having his big dick pounding into me while we are listening  to chase the Atlantic that’s going to do it every time. Let me tell you something … this man is obsessed with my body. I was scared … you know, we always had body dysmorphia but I think my husband healed me. He can’t take his hand off me. LIKE CAN’T ! I can’t not be in a room with only him (funny since y’all living together …) always slapping my fat ass. Sneaky his hand in my full breast. That one time I was in bikini waddle around I genuinely think he was going to fuck me in the pool while the neighbor were in their backyard. We all know how vocal I am and how rough he is. Confession I still like it fucking rough ... Actually  I like it rougher. I am officially insane. There must be something wrong with me. One minute I am like ‘’aww my baby is going to be an awesome dad’’ and the very next fucking though be like ‘’ I want him choke me and force himself into me’’  and it be a front of people. Fucking embarrassing. This pregnancy hormone made me waddle around like a horny sick teenager. Anyway let me go … I was teasing him earlier. You know how bratty I can get. But now I want it ! Bye babe … I need to hop on my ride.
XOXO
Your homegirl''
I swear pile 2, y’all so fucking cute. Y’all may be the youngest of your family or friend group. Like nobody even though you would get married or even have kids. Like you don’t hate kids but you love scaring them and every time one cries you laugh. Second, y'all love to yell at men. Every time you see a man, attitude is 100%. You are so spoiled and you don’t want to share. So the thought of having to share even a spoon with even your fav muncher is weird. You guys are the personification of the sound: ‘’ WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ? WHY WOULD A MEN BE HERE ?’’. You guys are also the personification of women dominating male fields. You be hating on men but still fuck them because that’s all they worth (LOL GO QUEEN !). You look the fuck good and don’t play abut your beauty regiment and sleep. 
You love your husband and you are in love with your baby but affection is not something that comes easy to you. That doesn't mean you are mean, you just show love in different ways. You more an act of service (I can’t with y’all… I just heard ‘’ Good head should be enough to show I care … Don’t be greedy. Beggar cannot be choosy’’ No because PERIDOT) like cleaning, cooking, organizing, showing support, being dependable or gift giving. You always find him the best gift. 
All this to say you play though but there is a big teddy bear inside of you that is sooo happy by the way your life took a twist but fucking confuse at the same time. Sometimes you wake confused like the girl in 17 turning 30 movie. Not that you hate your life actually you love it but WTF. 
I am hearing ‘’ Rue… when was this ?’’.
PREVIOUS READING
2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)
3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK
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PILE 3 
‘’ LOL…Let’s thank God for the bathroom at the restaurant. Honestly I don't even know how we sneak in together and nobody said anything. I lowkey think the server had our back  because when I finally came back  after sending my husband out before me to act as normal as possible. The server brought the bill with a smirk and my baby tipped him big. Honestly I don’t regret it. He could not resist the sight of me since my makeup was perfectly done, hair blown out in perfect curls, smelling Bararat Rouge, short black dress tight on my snatch body (thank God for the workout routine I follow religiously). Honestly I am surprised he waited that long … I kind of did need to push him the fuck off me, multiple time while we were getting ready. Now I understand Bella and Edward because honeymoon energy makes you want to do it  EVERY TIME AND ANYTIME. Like how am I supposed to ignore my man when he  looks all good in his suits after he paid for the whole trip and booked this exclusive restaurant in Paris just a front of the Eiffel tower and he gave me red bottoms earlier this evening. Fuck even when we are together he keeps tricking on me. Now here we are, gel on my stomach, belly round and big and my hand in his. Swear I never saw such a big and tall guy, literally a giant being so excited like a literal kid on Christmas morning over the new addition in the family. I told him to wait before he got the name of the baby tatted because you never know what could happen (God forbid …). I never saw him in such distress when I said this. His eyes floated  with tears, he hugged me tighter, kissed my neck and whispered: ‘’ You don’t think we deserve this happiness ? or maybe you regret having this with me’’. I hug him and cry. That is my self doubt … God does my self doubt and his abandonment issue always makes us cry in each other's arms in the most gut wrenching way. Fuck self doubt … I am prepared , my doctor got our back, my baby is healthy and I am going have my fucking happy ending. I want it all, I deserve it all and I am having it all. 
XOXO
Your Fav Sugar Mama''
You guys have moneyyyy. Like yes your man has money but babe you are very much giving boss babe. You probably have or are working towards having a very demanding degree. Let me tell you something … whatever field you try to get into (I think it's very competitive) you are/will be dominating. 
Also this letter was completely off intuition … I did not pull any cards but don’t worry let’s get to the extra messages. 
Funny enough y’all may be fucking like beast in mating season before pregnancy but after that everything is going to die down. I think both of y'all have a soft exhibition kink because y’all really don’t care who hears you or sees you. While you are pregnant he is still very loving and he still think you are stunning but y’all prefer missionary, love making, cuddle fuck, being in the bed, doing it on the couch. I see a lot of loving gaze coming from them. Like they look at you  like you are the walking definition of love. So much tenderness and longing just by the way they look at you. Also they change the tone of their voice when speaking to you. Is never loud even when they are mad. When they know they are about to get mad, they sit down, take a breath and speak. Is like a routine . NEVER NEVER want to scare you or hurt you. He really is a gentle giant. When it comes to YOU. Only for you. Also if I stick to my vision, you are definitely the one that decorated the apartment. I am getting a condo, penthouse or luxurious apartment in a busy city for your house. 
They are going to be even more possessive when you are pregnant. Babe that pregnancy glow is going to do wonders for your skin. You look the fuck good. Hair is long and healthy plus is shiny. Breast sitting pretty and is full. Hips wider and the way you walk is having everyone hooked. Some of y’all have a heel addiction and you are not going to give up heels just because of a baby and that is going to make you look extra sexy. Every time you are going to try to film yourself for fun or to post,  they are going to make their presence known. Also every time y’all outside, they always have a hand on your stomach. Damn y’all already pregnant with his seed… what more does he want from you. Like sir … your territory  is already marked. You're going to love every moment of it. Cheesy like a kid because your man is even more obsessed with you. 
You are going to leave work much earlier. Not because of any health issue. From what I am understanding, y’all never took a break. Always school, work, internship, engagement, big girl job, moving in and marriage. Like is time for you to take moment and just live for the fuck of it. 
At some point y’all may not have sex. Because your man does not want to hurt you. You may actually take it well because you feel like it is going to build a big sexual anticipation for next time. So y’all are having your own version of No Nut November. 
PREVIOUS READING
2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)
3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK
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PILE 4 
‘’ Damm I never felt so powerful. Maybe people are gatekeeping pregnancy because they don’t want you to feel this good. Nah I am kidding. First trimester dragged me around and snatched my wig. I spend more time hugging the toilet bowl than my Baby. The headache and extremely sensitive tits, let’s not forget the hair thinning. Anyways the power I have over my Baby is insane. I am not talking about ‘’yeah is for the baby’’. Nah is like the man is hypnotized by my every move. I could tell him to jump off the roof and I am convinced with enough flirting tactics he will do it. He  does it all for me before I even ask sometime before I even think about it, he already did it. He is serious about our baby's future, opening a savings account. For the baby shower, when everyone left he told me he brought our baby investment stocking. He already put money away for his car and university loan. He already looked at a private elementary school and we might hire a cook. I have never been much of a chef but he wants our kid to have it all. The tutor, the chef, the trust fund … oh my baby boy is about to be born on a diamond plate. The way I am treated is almost like I am carrying the next world prophet. I can't wear leggings, my heels need to be a certain inch, camera are on, all time because my Baby needs to be checking that I am always safe. Don’t want me to fall down the stairs or faint in the shower which actually happened . That’s why I can’t get mad at him when his crazy protective side comes out because the end of our journey almost came too quickly.  I have a chauffeur and 24/7 maid. Fuck I am birthing the next royalty. What’s wilder is I feel fucking sexy pregnant ? I can spend hours looking at myself in intricate lingerie. Everything is right and the weight gain looks the fucking good on me. I look womanly. Idk … all my life I've been quite petite. Always looking younger than my age. I always wanted to put on some weight but people around always told me to embrace since so many try to be skinny but sitting down in my black lace robe while getting ready in the morning reinforced  my need for weight. My tits are firmer and fuller, hips are wider and my butt has a gorgeous hump to it. I love the feeling of having my thigh touching. What’s even more insane is my crazy dom husband love when I am taking charge in the bedroom. He loves it when I wake him with a handjob while speaking of my rule in my soft voice. I always knew my voice had power over him, the man almost bust a nut in his sweat the first time  I called him. Now he worships me, he can spend hours eating on my clit, sucking on my thighs and playing on my tits. The other day he was heavily leaking precum while giving clit orgasm after orgasm while I was getting ready for my day. Begging me to put the tip in and sometimes I say ‘’no’’ just to see his reaction and the man whimpered and begged. LOL ! What’s less funny is that my mom decided to become more of hater than she already is. I took my distance from her, my husband hates when I talk to her because I always end up crying but she found out that I had a baby shower. She burst screaming in my house. Everything got handle and my husband did take legal charge but fuck … I just want my mother rn. Once again she let me down. 
XOXO
Yours Truly''
PREVIOUS READING
2) Wanna know the love story the universe has for you? 💫 In 8 parts, I spill all: first meet, first kiss, confession, sexy time, and more. Don’t miss out! 👀💖 (LINK)
3) For ALL DECEMBER get 2 readings for the price of 1 : LINK
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haeryna · 1 year ago
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the purest shade of white ↪ okkotsu yuuta x reader ⸙͎。˚⋆ 𓋼
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summary: yuuta looks almost like an angel, you think to yourself grimly, as you shift on the balls of your feet. you haven't seen your best friend in a couple years now, not since he left for africa. too bad he's attempting to kill the kouhai that you're trying to protect.
tw: manga spoilers! anime watchers, do not read. mild angst but happy ending. starts at the beginning of ch. 139. naoya zenin is here and he is his classic asshole self. reader is in the same grade as yuuta, both in age and in terms of cursed energy. swearing because reader is a bad bitch. mildly suggestive. unironic use of "senpai" and "kouhai." slight descriptions of blood and injury, everyone is subjected to the author's attempts at writing dialogue and fight scenes. not proofread but at this point that shouldn't be a surprise. it is blatantly obvious that the writer also does not know how to end stories
notes: thank you for 100 new friends! :) poll is technically still up but i'm impatient and yuuta was winning by a pretty decent margin so here it is lol. divider by @/saradika-graphics!
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"Yuuji!" you yelp, slicing the head off a curse with a clean stroke of your katana. Purple ichor splatters to the ground as you whirl, searching for the familiar head of pink hair. "Stay close to me!"
Behind you, Choso grunts with exertion, sending out another bolt of Piercing Blood. Panting, you weave through the curses, letting their corpses fall behind you. Yuuji, where is Yuuji?
As the last body falls, you can't but let out an exasperated huff at the sheepish grin on Yuuji's face. "Don't scare me like that," you chide. "How am I supposed to protect you if I can't even find you?" Yuuji opens his mouth to protest but you shake your head. "I made a promise," you tell him, pain rippling through your heart dully. Gojo-sensei was long gone, stolen away by one of the people he had loved most in the world. Grimacing, you sheathe your katana, mindful of the blood that stains your palms, as you try to ignore the memory of his words all those months ago.
If anything happens, I need you to protect Itadori Yuuji. I know they're going to pull something on him once I'm not there to back him up.
"Senpai, what should-"
Yuuji immediately tenses as your hand flies to the grip of your katana. "I smell a rat," you mutter, nose wrinkling as you turn to face Naoya Zenin, standing atop a bridge. He bares his teeth at you in semblance of a smile. "How perceptive as always," he mocks.
"Cut the bullshit," you snap, hand still resting on the pommel. "What do you want?"
"Fushiguro Megumi," is his rather bland response, and you shift your feet into the opening steps of Flowing River.
"What do you want with Fushiguro?" Yuuji yells, and the way Naoya's face twists makes you want to vomit.
"I think I'll have him die."
Cursed energy fills your body as you leap. Naoya's resounding cackle burns through your ears as you swing, barely grazing his shoulder. Before you can push forward off your feet, a heavy presence rests on your shoulders, locking you in place. All four of you freeze. Yuuji and Choso look horrified, and Naoya looks as though he's broken out into a cold sweat. But you know this feeling, feel it settle back into your body as if it never left.
Okkotsu Yuuta steps out from the building ledge, dark eyes unreadable. Your body sings. Yuuta, Yuuta, Yuuta! His hair has grown longer, bangs sweeping over his forehead, eyebags a little darker than they used to be. You can feel Rika's presence, swirling around you in a mass of death and decay. You're used to it. You've grown to crave it, even. His eyes meet yours, and for a split second, his facade cracks. Confusion, fear, and...regret?
Yuuta leaps, slamming into concrete and sending shockwaves deep into your bones. "Who's with Itadori?" God, even his voice is different, so different from the boy who said goodbye to you so long ago. You open your mouth to speak, but Choso beats you to it, brows furrowed.
"So you're Yuuji's executioner."
Blood turns to ice in your veins, and you can tell by the pained expression Yuuta has that you aren't hiding your emotions as well as you think you are. Naoya laughs. "I was going to tell you that, but you were being too emotional like the bitch you are."
"Who're you?"
Yuuta's voice is cold, but as Naoya babbles on, you can feel the horror settle thickly into your chest. Choso and Yuuji are talking behind you but it feels like you're underwater, you're sinking, drowning, and Yuuta must have come to a conclusion because all of a sudden he's surging forward-
You move before you can even think, steel clashing against steel. "Yuuji," you say, through gritted teeth. "Run."
A horrible grating noise fills the air as you let cursed energy flow through your body, shoving Yuuta's sword away from yourself. "I won't let you kill him," you hiss, body already shifting into Jagged Bolt. Yuuta's eyes flash as you surge forward, katana in hand.
"How would you describe my cursed technique?" you had asked Gojo, mindlessly swinging your feet. Gojo hums.
"Have you ever heard of Newton's Law's of Motion?"
You had crinkled your nose at that. "No?"
"An object in motion, stays in motion. Except you are the object. And your cursed energy is the motion." You remember how Gojo's lips curved slightly. "In other words, once you start, nobody can stop you."
You're crying, you realize with a start, as you cut a line into Yuuta's chest. Moisture seeps from your eyes as you twist your forearm into a parry, katanas sparking with each strike. Belatedly, you sense that Yuuji, your foolish, stupid, loyal kouhai has stayed, trading strikes with his fists between the precise movements of your blade. Your heart drops as Yuuta reaches for the ring on his finger.
No. No!
He twists it, and Rika appears behind you. Claws sink into your shoulder and you let out a cry of pain as she flips you into the ground.
"Be nice, Rika," Yuuta chides, as you hit the concrete. Blood spurts from your mouth as you choke, fingers clawing at the ground desperately for your katana. A piece of scaffolding is practically crushing your legs; instinctively, you know that if you try to break through it, you'll tear your limbs right off.
As Rika holds Yuuji up, you lunge desperately, uncaring of what you have to sacrifice. Inumaki's arm, the way half of Nobara's face had been practically ripped out of her skull, the remains of Nanami-san, the way that you were the one to find Maki's charred body-
I can't lose anyone else.
You scream as Yuuta pierces Yuuji's chest with his katana, cursed energy building in your legs as you prepare to shoot forward. Yuuta turns, eyes filled with an unidentifiable emotion as he sees you about to tear yourself in half just to reach Yuuji.
With a wave of his hand, Rika dives for you, and everything goes dark.
Yuuta had known you were special from the day he'd first met you. That spring, when Gojo-sensei had dropped him (and Rika) into a class of unsuspecting first years, he remembers that out of the four of them, you had moved so gracefully that he hadn't processed the katana in your hand until you'd pressed it against your throat.
"Gojo-sensei," you'd hissed. "What is this?"
While Maki, Inumaki, and Panda had been subsequently bruised up by Rika, you had dodged every single one of her movements until Rika had been (barely) called back by Yuuta.
"Another Special Grade," Gojo had hummed. "Just like you, hm?"
Special Grade?
What he hadn't realized then, he realized later; you weren't just special to him, but to the entire rest of the Jujutsu World as well. Special Grade Sorcerers were rare, Maki had told him. "You only have it because of Rika," she'd scoffed, "but she deserves it."
You quickly became one of his closest friends. You were fast enough to dodge Rika's ire, even laughing whenever she tried. You'd shown Yuuta kindness that he didn't think he deserved. You broke him out of his shell enough so that when he left for Africa, he felt as though he was standing with his own strength. His first katana had been the sister blade of your own, forged from the same metal by the same hands. The way your eyes had lit up when you saw it was a memory he cherished.
Somberly, Yuuta eyes the chains encasing your wrists and ankles, each decorated with the slips of protective paper that would nullify your cursed energy. Most sorcerers required only one. You required at least twenty.
He knows you, knows the way you always take the strawberry daifuku, leaving him the red bean ones even though he knows you prefer the red bean. He knows that you push yourself hard, harder than he's ever seen anyone work. But most of all, he knows your loyalty, how once your heart finally lets someone in, you'll never let them go.
Did you miss him like he missed you?
The chains are more for your own protection. He needs you to hear him out before you attempt to end his life for a second time. Yuuta knows now that Gojo must have asked you the same thing he'd asked him; to keep Itadori Yuji safe from the whims of the higher ups. Gojo, being the forgetful bastard he was, probably didn't alert you to the fact that he'd gone to Yuuta for help as well. Crouching, Yuuta eyes your body with a sad tilt of his lips. The injuries you'd sustained were immense, and it had taken quite a bit of his own cursed energy to reverse.
Will you forgive him?
You're asleep, breath hitching every so often. Yuuta wonders what you're dreaming of, before pushing the thought away. Tenderly, he cups your face in the palm of his hand, calloused fingers stroking your cheek.
"You need to wake up now," he murmurs, as your eyes flutter open, first in dazed confusion, before sharpening into panic.
"I'll miss you!" you'd cried, as you clung to Yuuta under the shade of the large oak. You were the first person he had told about his departure to Africa, and you took it hard. Yuuta had stood frozen as the first of your tears had dripped down your cheeks. It was the first time he'd seen you cry.
"I'll be back before you know it," he'd murmured, pressing a featherlight kiss to the top of your head. You'd looked up to him, eyes teary.
"Promise?"
"I promise," he'd said, interlocking his pinky with your own. A love like Yuuta's is a dangerous thing, you know, but in this moment you feel nothing but safe.
The first sensation you feel upon awakening is the dull ache in your (miraculously still attached) legs. The second is the warmth on your cheek. Yuuta is standing above you, hand gently resting against your face. Immediately you lunge forward, teeth bared. The rattle of chains stops you, and you swear. Of course he would have taken precautions. Yuuta looks almost hurt as you violently shake off his touch.
"Don't touch me, I swear to god I'm going to rip you apart."
Yuuta says your name sadly, but you're practically trembling with rage.
"He was just a kid, with the kind of power we wield, why the fuck would you listen to the higher ups?"
Yuuta echoes your name a bit more firmly, but you ignore him, tears building in your eyes.
"You're no better than the rest of them are you, you're just-"
"Senpai!"
Your heart stops as Yuuji pokes his head out from around the corner. They must have brought you back to Jujutsu Tech, you think distractedly. Just how long were you out?
"Yuuji!" you cry out, scanning his body for any injuries. He seems to be uninjured, but most importantly, he's alive. Tears fall down your cheeks. "Are you alright?"
Yuuji appears horrified by the sudden outburst as he hastily holds up his hands. "I'm fine, senpai, really, I'm sorry for worrying you. Okkotsu-san is actually on our side, I swear! It was a binding vow, that's why he had to actually kill me, but he did some really cool Reverse Technique shit and I'm all good now!"
Warily, you eye Yuuta, whose expression resembles that of a kicked puppy. "Okkotsu Yuuta," you say, voice hard. "Let me out of these chains right fucking now."
With a wave of his hand, the papers attached to the chains fall to the floor. Yuuta looks dejected as he looks away from you. "I'm so sor-"
Before he can finish you immediate tackle him into a hug, knocking the both of you into the floor as you bury your face into the soft slope of his neck. "You're such an idiot," you sob, unable to hide the rush of emotions going through you. "Why didn't you tell me?"
Tentatively, Yuuta wraps his arms around you, and you melt, pressing yourself closer to his body. "To be honest, I think Gojo-sensei is to blame. I think he forgot to mention to either of us that he asked us to do the exact same thing."
You let out a hiccupping laugh. "Of course he did. That forgetful asshole."
The sigh Yuuta lets out is shaky as he nuzzles the top of your head. "I'm so, so sorry," he tells you earnestly. "I must have scared you, and Rika's mad at me for making me hurt you like that. I think she likes you, even though she pretends not to."
You look up at him, really look at him, and see the look of adoration in his eyes as he stares back down at you. Thankfully Yuuji's escaped long ago, most likely understanding that you two would need privacy. "You came back," you whisper, and Yuuta's resulting smile makes your heart skip a beat.
"I promised you, didn't I?"
Before you can stop yourself, you pull Yuuta down for a searing kiss. He's so soft, and you nip at the plush of his bottom lip teasingly, pulling a whine from his throat. His large hands grip your hips, and in retaliation, you grab a fistful of his hair and tug. The breathy noise he makes goes straight between your thighs. You know he can feel your smile against his lips.
"I missed you," you breathe, pulling away. Yuuta looks dazed, lips kiss swollen, pupils so dilated that you can barely see the soft brown of his eyes.
"I love you," he blurts out, and your resulting laugh is airy as you press another chaste kiss to his lips.
"I've always loved you, Yuuta," you admit. "During Shibuya, I thought I wasn't going to make it. You were the only thing keeping me going."
The look in his eyes is fierce as he tugs you back into him, enveloping you in his arms. "You'll never have to worry about that again. You have my entire life. Where you go, I'll follow, and if I die, not even Death would be able to separate me from your side."
"Those sound a lot like wedding vows, don't you think?"
Yuuta's blush covers his entire face and you grin, pressing one last kiss to his lips. "Come on now. We have kids we need to protect."
As Yuuta leads you to where the others have convened, even under the dark circumstances you're in, the warmth of his hand clutching yours fills you with a giddiness you hadn't experienced in months. The sentiment is quickly dashed as soon as Maki opens her mouth.
"Fucking finally. Inumaki owes me 3,000 yen."
3K notes · View notes
bratbarzal · 1 month ago
Text
Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3
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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)
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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. 
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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.”
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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.”
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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.”
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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.”
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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.”
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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.
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>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!!!
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britneyshakespeare · 2 years ago
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Who sends their high school classmate a Facebook friend request six years after they've graduated
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shockercoco · 3 months ago
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Nothing Like Honey
Tyler Owens x reader
warnings - 18+, smut, aphrodisiac, oral (f receiving), fingering, multiple orgasms, squirting, penetration, ig premature orgasm?, some swearing
word count - 4126 (idk how lol)
a/n - this is my first Kinktober as a writer, and I was gonna skip it bc of my schoolwork, but there's no way I'm gonna miss out. I haven't posted in a month and college is taking all of my energy with all the writing i'm doing. also disclaimer: I've never tried honey packets so idk if they actually work lol. thx for reading and I hope you enjoy :)
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“You can’t say no without even seeing what it is first,” Boone smiles.
You, Boone, and Tyler were sitting in a booth at the bar, celebrating after a good day of chasing. Dani and Lily were off somewhere beating Dexter in darts. The bar is noisy and pretty crowded for somewhere so rural, but you got lucky and found a quiet booth in the corner.
“With you, yeah I can,” Tyler laughs, before taking a sip from the beer bottle and placing it back down.
“Just look at what it is before you make a decision,” Boone rolls his eyes. He reaches into his pocket to retrieve two small packets and places them on the table.
Your eyes widen. “Is that what I think it is?” you ask, leaning forward to get a better look.
“It sure is,” Boone nods. He smirks, folding his arms against his chest and leaning back into the booth. 
Tyler looks between the two of you, confused, before asking, “Okay, what am I missing here?”
You look up at Tyler. “They’re uh…,” you begin, but trail off. You then look over at Boone, silently telling him to answer for you.
“They’re horny packets,” Boone smiles proudly.
“Honey packets,” you correct him, sending him a playful glare.
Boone waves you off. “Same thing.”
Tyler reaches the hand that wasn’t resting on the booth behind you to grab one of the packets. “And what exactly do these honey packets do?” Tyler questions, his eyebrows furrowed as he turns the packet over in his hand.
“Like I said, they make you horny. They’re like an aphrodisiac so they’re supposed to take everything to the next level. If you know what I mean,” Boone wiggles his eyebrows.
“Oh, come on,” Tyler looks at him in disgust, but you just laugh. If you hadn’t known Boone for almost as long as Tyler, you’d be disgusted too, but you’re used to his antics.
“What, man? I’m just keeping it real,” Boone raises his hands in surrender.
“And do they actually work?” you ask.
“Believe me, they work,” Boone gives you a look. You let out another laugh, and this time Boone joins you.
“What do we do with it?” Tyler asks, still eyeing the packet.
“Just take the packet and wait for everything to kick in,” Boone says, leaning back with his arms crossed over his chest.
Tyler squints. “Where the hell do you get these kinds of things from?” asks Tyler, not too surprised since Boone is always showing him something new.
“A magician never reveals his secret,” Boone playfully shrugs, causing Tyler to kick him under the table.
“Ow!” Boone leans down to rub his shin.
“You’ll be okay,” Tyler tells him, a small smile forming on his lips.
“Do you guys want these or not? There’s no need to harass me,” Boone looks between you and Tyler. You look up at Tyler, and he looks back at you with his eyebrows raised. 
“Your choice,” Tyler shrugs.
You contemplate for a moment, before nodding and looking over at Boone. “We’ll do it.”
“Alright!” Boone claps his hand.
Ten minutes later, the packets are in your system, and you and Tyler decide to call it a night. Tyler heads to the bar to pay his tab and you follow behind him. You normally don’t like to hover, but the bartender has been making eyes at him all night. 
“Gone so soon?” the bartender asks with a tempting smile and a tilt of her head, a cowboy hat placed on top.
“Yes, ma’am,” Tyler nods, giving her a kind smile as he hands her his card. You watch her return the smile before heading off to close his tab. 
When Tyler turns his head to look at you, you give him a smile. Tyler knows it’s a fake one which is why he sends you a smirk before wrapping his arm around your shoulders.
“Well, I sure do hope I see you back in here soon,” the bartender says as she comes back to hand him his card and receipt, leaning against the counter to show off her breasts in the process. You turn your head so she doesn’t see you roll your eyes. This also makes you miss her eyeing Tyler’s arm around you.
Tyler gives her a quick thank you before walking off with you under his arm. You run into Lily right in front of the entrance who looks disappointed when she sees you and Tyler leaving.
“Already?” Lily pouts. “You’re really going to leave me here with the others?”
“It’s nothing you can’t handle,” you laugh at her reaction, quickly leaning in to give her a hug. 
“Tell the others we said goodnight, will you,” Tyler tells her. She nods before telling you and Tyler goodnight and walking away.
“Where are you two lovebirds going?” you hear Boone call from behind you, as you and Tyler walk to his truck.
“It’s late, Boone,” Tyler calls back, not turning to look back at him.
“Is that the only reason?” you hear Boone’s voice coming closer as Tyler opens his passenger door for you to enter. You can hear the suggestiveness in his tone.
“Goodnight, Boone,” Tyler rolls his eyes, as he watches you get in.
“Alright, alright, you don’t have to tell me about your private life,” Boone says, a smile evident in his voice.
You stick your head back out to see Boone laughing. You let out a giggle as you call out, “Goodnight!”
Tyler playfully shoves your head back into the truck, before closing the door and walking around to the drivers side.
“Don’t make me run you over,” you hear Tyler tell Boone, before he opens the door and climbs in beside you. Boone sends you a wave, before heading back inside the bar while Tyler pulls out of the parking lot.
“Was that jealousy I saw back there?” Tyler asks you as he starts the drive back home.
“What?” you innocently ask as you look out the window at the land zooming by, the sun almost completely set.
“Oh, okay you want me to say it,” he teases, but you don’t turn your head.
“Still don’t know what you’re talking about.”
“Well then, you wouldn’t mind if I turned this truck around and reopened my tab with that flirty bartender then would you?”
That makes you turn your head. “I dare you, Owens.”
“So you do know what I’m talking about,” Tyler quickly glances over at you with his eyebrows raised and a playful smile on your lips, before turning his attention back to the road. He has one hand on the steering wheel and the other on the center console, your favorite position. Although, it seems even more attractive at the moment for some reason.
There’s no way those packets actually work.
“Just keep driving,” you mumble, crossing your arms and looking away again in the process. 
Tyler chuckles as he moves the hand on the center console onto your thigh, giving it a small squeeze. You feel warmth spread through your bottom half at the action.
Yeah, there’s no way.
“No need to get embarrassed, sweetheart. You know I love when you act like that.”
Little did you know, Tyler was feeling odd too.
When Tyler pulls in front of the house, you wait for him to open your door as always. You begin making your way to the front door, but Tyler grabs your hand and pulls you back, causing your bag to collide with the truck door. Tyler takes a step closer to you, pressing his body against yours.
“What, no thank you?” he asks, raising a playful eyebrow. 
“Like you deserve it,” you joke and make a move to pull away from him, but he doesn’t let you budge.
“Is that so?” he questions as he nudges his face into your neck. You let out a squeal as you begin feeling his fingers dig into your sides.
“Don’t you dare tickle me,” you laugh as you try to move his hands away from you.
“Why not?” he asks, his breath tickles your neck as he laughs. His fingers begin to move again.
“Tyler!” you jump. Tyler laughs again.
You place your hands onto his chest and somehow manage to pry yourself out of his hands. “Behave yourself,” you laugh.
“Sorry, darling, I wish I could,” Tyler tells as he pulls you away and gives you a look.
“What do you mean?” you ask. Tyler doesn’t answer, he just quickly looks down before looking back at you, silently telling you.
“Really?” you raise your eyebrows.
“What, you’re telling me you don’t feel anything?” he asks. 
Now it’s your turn to be silent. You feel your face heat up as you avoid his gaze and look past him. “I don’t know what you’re talking about,” you shrug, folding your arms across your chest. Tyler moves his head into your line of sight, giving you a look that says he knows you’re full of shit. “Okay, fine. I do. I just didn’t expect it to…y’know…actually work.”
“Neither did I, but look at us now,” Tyler says.
“What do you mean ‘us’?” you furrow your eyebrows, looking down at the bulge in his pants before looking back into his eyes. You let out a small laugh. “Seems like you have a bigger problem than me pal. No pun intended of course.”
“Ha ha, you’re so funny,” Tyler playfully rolls his eyes before tightening his grip on you. “I’m not sure why you’re laughing, though, you’re the one that’s going to help me fix this.”
“No self control, huh?” you tease, and Tyler glares down at you. “Relax, it’ll wear off soon.”
It did not wear off anytime soon.
Tyler followed you around like a lost puppy as you moved about the house. Inside the bedroom right when you were just feeling like you could control the overwhelming feeling in your lower half, Tyler came up behind you in the bathroom. 
His eyes meet yours as he wraps his arms around you and presses his front against your back, trapping you between him and the bathroom sink. The bulge in his jeans pressed against your backside, making you throb.
“How about we just cut to the chase and get this over with, huh?” Tyler whispers into your ear, his eyes never leaving yours. You can’t help but lean into his touch and subconsciously tilt your head to give him more access to your neck.
“We have to get up early in the morning. We’re meeting with everyone to discuss the potential storms, remember?” you try to remind him.
“They can just fill us in after,” Tyler mumbles as he begins to place soft kisses on your favorite area on your neck, right below your ear.
He notices the goosebumps forming on your arms as his fingers run up and down them. You feel the small smirk forming on his lips as he continues his trail of kisses on your neck. You allow your eyes to close for a moment, enjoying the sensations, before opening them and meeting his eyes through the mirror once again.
“It’s not the same, and you know it,” you tell him, your resolve quickly diminishing.
“Come on, sweetheart. You want this just as much as I do,” says Tyler.
“I don’t know,” you pretend to contemplate, “I think I’ll be okay.”
Tyler doesn’t respond. Instead, he raises a daring eyebrow at you, not believing you for a second. He knows you like the back of his hand. You just give him an innocent smile in return. 
You then begin to feel Tyler’s hands abandon your arms and land on your waist, one of them traveling further south. His fingers make their way to the waistband of the jeans you have yet to take off. Your smile fathers and your breath hitches at the ticklish feeling. His movements are purposely slow, wanting you to crack as soon as possible. 
Tyler lifts his head from your neck, so he gets a good look at your face when he asks:
“So you’re saying if I move my hand a little further down, I won’t feel your wetness soaking those pretty little panties of yours?” Tyler questions. His bold wording catches you off guard, making you shift slightly in his hold, your throat starting to feel dry. “What? Nothing to say?”
“Why don’t you find out?” you quip, somehow finding your voice again. 
Tyler gives you a knowing smile before swiftly unbuttoning your jeans and moving his hand inside, his other hand still firm on your waist. You look down and watch as he wastes no time and dips his hand into your panties, quickly bumping into your clit, making you jump. 
Tyler breathes out a laugh before continuing and easily finding the wetness he already knew was there. He runs a finger through your sticky folds, his hand trapped between your ruined panties and your pussy.
Your hands instinctively grab onto his forearms. A small moan escapes your lips as you try to keep your hips from bucking into his hand.
“Well, what do we have here?” Tyler smirks. “Just as I thought, she’s eager for me.”
You hate the fact that you love when Tyler refers to your pussy as a she.
Tyler moves his finger back up to your clit, rubbing gentle circles into the bud. You both know it’s not enough to get you off, but it’s enough to turn you on more – and it does. You let your head fall against his chest as your hands tighten on his arms. Tyler moves his head back into your neck, hovering his lips right over your ear.
“All you had to do was say something, baby. Y’know I always take care of you,” he whispers into your ear, his tone condescending.
He suddenly adds a bit more pressure to clit, causing your hips to involuntarily buck into his hand. You can feel your legs beginning to shake, the honey packet causing you to be sensitive. You bite your lip to keep the sounds rising in your throat at bay. His unoccupied hand leaves your hip and moves to your waist, keeping you against him.
“Don’t be like that, there’s no need to keep those pretty little noises away from me. All you have to do is admit that this is what you wanted this whole time and I’ll give you what you want.”
You send Tyler a glare through the mirror, causing him to chuckle, the rumble in his chest vibrating through your body. You really don’t want to give in that easily, even though your body is saying otherwise.
Tyler starts kissing behind your ear again. “You know you want to.”
Tyler removes some of the pressure on your clit, his movements turning gentle – which is the exact opposite of what you need right now. 
“Fuck, okay. Fine,” you breathe out.
“Okay what?” Tyler smirks, pretending to be confused.
“Fuck you,” you tell him through gritted teeth.
Tyler’s voice drops an octave. “Oh, darling, I will. As soon as you tell me what I want to hear.”
Your body betrays you, allowing a shiver to run through you.
“This is what I wanted,” you mumble.
“Sorry, what was that?” Tyler asks.
“This is what I wanted!” you repeat louder this time.
“I don’t like the attitude in your voice, but I’ll let it slide,” Tyler tells you.
He pulls away and removes his hands from your panties, sticking the wet fingers into his mouth. You slightly frown at the loss of his touch, your body suddenly feeling  cold.
“Let’s get started then,” he gives you his charming smile, which at the moment makes you want to slap him, before bending and lifting you into his arms. You let out a small yelp as your feet leave the ground.
He carries you into the bedroom and tosses you onto the bed. The two of you can’t seem to undress fast enough, tugging and tossing articles of clothing here and there. You’re pretty sure he tossed his shirt perfectly into the hamper in the far corner of the room, but at the moment you don’t care.
Tyler moves to hover his naked body over you, quickly attaching his lips to yours. It’s rough and needy, neither of you wanting to pull away for air. Both of you are panting. He shoves his tongue through your lips, haphazardly moving around your mouth. 
You pull away just a tad to wrap your lips around his tongue, gently sucking. Tyler’s hardened cock twitches against your abdomen as he breathes out a moan. Your lips curve into a smile at the noise. His hips begin to grind against yours, allowing you to feel the precum dripping from his slit onto your abdomen.
Tyler pulls away and moves his lips to your collarbone. He begins a trail of kisses, going through the valley between your breasts, stopping to give each nipple some love, before continuing on his way. Your back arches into his touch and you feel yourself throb as heat blooms in your stomach.
He goes all the way down your body, pulling your legs down with him as he kneels in front of the bed, coming face to face with your center. He grunts as he gives his poor, leaking cock a few tugs. 
“Y’know, we could’ve been doing this 20 minutes ago, but you wanted to play games,” Tyler tells you, his breath hitting your exposed pussy as he speaks. 
You go to rebuttal, but words instantly leave your mouth as Tyler runs a finger through your dripping folds, then spreads your lips apart for better access. A whine leaves your lips instead as your hips buck towards his face. He gently blows air onto your sensitive pussy, causing you to involuntarily clench around nothing and your body to jerk. Tyler notices and smiles to himself at the sight, deciding to do it once more for the hell of it. Your body jerks again.
“Look who’s playing games now,” you point out, holding your body up with your elbows in order to get a good view of him. Your expression is mixed with frustration and desperation.
Tyler chuckles, his eyes never leaving your pussy. “Not for long.”
With that, he dives into you, dragging his tongue through your lips. He quickly dips the tip of his tongue inside of you before pulling back out and attaching his lips to your clit. Your fingers dig into the blanket beneath you, your mouth falling open in a gasp as his tongue flicks against the sensitive bud. Tyler’s grip on you tightens when he feels your hips buck into his face once again. 
Your head tilts back in pleasure as he continues his movements. Feeling your arms about to give out, you let your back sink into the mattress and allow your eyes to close. He can’t help but grind his hips against the bed, needing something to alleviate the overwhelming pressure running through his cock.
Tyler pushes his face further into you as he feels his own orgasm quickly approaching. He moans into your pussy and continues to grind his hips against the bed. Your thighs tighten around his head and your legs tremble a little as you feel the vibrations from his body travel through yours.  
He knows he’s not going to last long, but he doesn’t try to stop himself. His cum spurts out and onto the side of the bed, dripping onto the floor beneath him. His fingers tighten on your thighs as he finishes, his cock barely softening.
His climax remains unknown to you, too lost in the depths of pleasure. After a couple more minutes of your whining and your hips grinding into his face, he decides to give you what you want. He slides one of his hands down and pushes a finger into you all the way to the knuckle, meeting no resistance from your welcoming body.
“Fuck,” you breathe out, your back arching.
Tyler continues to thrust his finger into, feeling your slick coat his finger, making it even easier for him to move. You feel a slight stretch as he adds another finger to the mix, plunging his fingers deep inside of you. You reach a hand down and allow your fingers to tangle in his hair. Tyler hums out a moan when you give his scalp a small tug. 
When Tyler notices your orgasm approaching, he quickens the pace of his fingers. The change of pace allows you to hear just how drenched you really are. The sound of your wet squelching echoes through your ears as he curls his fingers and finds your sweet spot.
“Oh god,” you whimper, your back going into a deep arch.
Tyler releases your clit from his lips and replaces them with the thumb from his unoccupied hand. His lips glisten from your arousal as he rubs tight circles into you in time with the rhythm of his fingers in your tight walls. He glances up at your face and smirks at the reaction he’s able to pull from you. 
Tyler feels your walls beginning to clench repeatedly around his fingers, signaling your orgasm. His fingers speed up inside you even more, constantly hitting that spot that makes your toes curl. 
You feel that final wave of intense pleasure run through you, your mouth opening in a silent moan as you come undone. His fingers don’t slow down, though, he continues the movement until he sees that clear liquid gush out of you. It soaks his fingers even more, dripping down his arm and some hits him in the chest.
“There you go,” Tyler mumbles, keeping his eyes on your gushing pussy.
You cry out as you feel yourself squirt, the liquid running your thighs and onto the blanket beneath you. When you notice him not letting up on his thrusts, you let out a squeal and try to pull away. 
“Ty! Baby!” you wail, immediately feeling yourself being thrown into another orgasm. Tyler chuckles as he watches you squirm. 
When that second orgasm arrives, it hits much harder than the first one, making your body clamp up as you feel yourself squirt once more. Tears begin to form in your waterline from the overstimulation. 
“S-shit,”  you stammer. Your voice is high pitched and much weaker than it was a few seconds ago. 
Tyler smiles proudly at his work and decides to pull his fingers out. His cock jumps as he looks down at his body covered in your arousal. 
You try to catch your breath as you slowly climb backwards towards the headboard, your thighs still twitching.
“What’s wrong, darling? Where are you going?” Tyler innocently asks as he climbs up onto the bed. His voice is deep and raspy as he speaks, the way it always gets at a time like this. He grabs you by your ankles and pulls you back down a couple of inches as he hovers over you.
“Y’know, I’m actually really glad Boone gave us those honey packets. What about you?” Tyler asks he situates himself between your thighs. He wraps his hand around his cock and begins to lightly stroke himself. He groans and tosses his head back for a second, a bit sensitive from his orgasm. He quickly returns his attention back to you.
Despite the two orgasms Tyler just ripped out of you, you feel yourself getting turned on again. You gulp as you watch the sight in front of you unfold, your mouth beginning to water.
Oh, no.
“Nothing to say?” he smirks and begins to run his cock through your sore folds.
You tremble as he moves against you, not being able to stop yourself from moving your hips along with his motions. 
“Who knew they actually worked?” you try to laugh, but immediately get cut off by Tyler sliding into you. He moves to wrap his arms around you, holding you close and caging you in between him and the mattress.
Your mouth falls open and your eyes widen. Your lip quivers and your eyes flutter close at the stretch of him pushing until the hilt.
“Fuck,” Tyler rasps at the feeling of your warm walls contracting around him. He clenches his jaw as a chill runs through his body, needing to close his eyes to gather himself. “Oh, sweetheart, you don’t know how good you feel.”
All you can do is whimper in response. You open your eyes to meet him already looking back down at you. His lips have transformed back into the irritating smirk.
Looks like you’re going to be stuck here for a while, might as well get comfortable.
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bokunoheros · 4 months ago
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TAGS/WARNINGS: reader is gender neutral but afab, shibari obvi lol, uhm oral (m. receiving), this is rlly short, sorry gang GENRE: smut — based on this SUMMARY: you suggest trying out bondage with your husband for the first time; something he can easily get on board with. WORD COUNT: 408.. sorry aizawa stans i’m in a time crunch 🦊’s A/N: i was not originally meant to write for day 6, but here i am the day before its due lol anyway sorry this is so short, my day 8 will definitely make up for it tho (it’s 10.4k words) also this was edited/co-written by XENOVA and FORDULA (sorry guys I was originally supposed to write day six but I’m sick as a fucking dog and I just could not bring myself to do it)
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     “sh–shouta…” you whine uncomfortably in your suspended state, the only thing keeping you from spinning around was the large hand planted in your hair. when you said you wanted to try out bondage for the first time, you hadn’t exactly expected him to be so onboard… (really? you didn’t? despite the fact he literally has you tied up with his stupid capture weapon right now?) but here you were, very tightly hogtied plus a few additional ties to make sure you wouldn’t be in genuine discomfort as you’re suspended in the air. 
     “shhh,” he shushes you gently, his other hand holding his needy dick before slapping it against your cheeks a couple times and telling you to open up.
     you obey, of course, eagerly taking his dick into your hot mouth, something he groans lowly at. moving the hand around his base as he slowly pushes your head down against him, and—jesus christ! soon your nose is flush against his messy pubes, and you’re actively having to focus on breathing through your nostrils so you don’t choke around his length. fuck. 
     “doing so good for me, sweetheart,” he praises you quietly, drooling pre-cum down the back of your throat. 
     “mmnfgh,” you moan, eyes watering, and the vibrations around his cock causes his grip to tighten as he lets out a drawn-out groan. 
     he weaves his calloused hands into your hair, pulling on it lightly as he guides your head up and down his shaft. you look up at him with teary eyes, struggling to lap your tongue on his girth. you hum on his cock sending vibrations to it, he groans and hisses at the feeling of your tight mouth contracting for him. 
     it isn’t long before he’s cumming down your welcoming throat and holding you in place until he’s sure you’ve swallowed every last drop of cum.
     “shit…. shouta,” you choke out, limbs beginning to feel tingly.
     “shh, i know, i know—you did so good,” he tells you, stroking your hair tenderly. 
     shortly after you both catch your breath, he lowers you onto the floor and takes his time untying you, running his hands all over your sweaty body in the process. 
     blinking away the remainders of your tears, you smile sweetly at your husband when he asks how it was.
     “next time, i wanna tie you up.” and he simply chuckles at your response, saying i don’t know about that, but not shutting you down entirely.
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gyuswhore · 1 year ago
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Fifteen to Forever
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"I can’t not be happy when I know I have you."
PAIRING: hockeyplayer!choi seungcheol x f!reader
SYNOPSIS: Fifteen was the age you had met Choi Seungcheol at a school hockey game. Forever was the age you would find yourself spending with him.
CONTAINS: fluff, angst, smut (MINORS DNI), growing up, tears (a lot), distance, this is so emotional you will be in your feels, kissing, p in v sex (unprotected), clit stimulation, handjobs, happy endings bc we love them, i think that's it
WORD COUNT: 6k
masterlist
[AN]: thank you so much @ressonancee for birthing the idea of hockey player cheol in the first place, reading over some of the bits and helping me w some of the plot!!! ty for letting me ramble in your dms lol. hockeyplayer!cheol WILL reappear in other fics bc I'm obsessed with the idea, for now, I hope you enjoy this angsty fluffy creation <33
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It wasn’t until the last echo of the slammed car door had faded that you realized, yes, mom, I do actually want you to go in with me. 
But alas, as the last tresses of exhaust from her car fade into nothingness, you accept that you’d have to do this alone. Gripping the straps of your brand new backpack helps you ground yourself as the increasingly erratic breathing takes over you. It sinks in now that you’re alone. 
There’s a honk, and you realize you’re still frozen in the drop-off zone, the mom in the Subaru not appreciating the 7 AM delay to drop off her own high schooler. You wonder if her kid would let her drop them off inside. 
Scurrying into the entrance of the open gates, you find the courtyard full. Huddles of teens laughing and yelling despite the early morning hour, not a spare square foot on the grass. You try to find someone who looks like an adult but fail, hoping you’ll be luckier once you’re inside the building. 
You do find yourself lucky as you find a line of teachers at the entrance, ready to greet the new batch of freshmen on their first day of high school. There are a few other kids who look as tense as you, but you feel better with the way the administrator pats your shoulder as she hands you your schedule, assigning you to a lanky sophomore to show you around the building that’d become your second home for the next four years. 
Jeonghan tells you his name as he leads you into your homeroom, where you deposit your bag before going back out. He’s peculiar, you decide. He tells you to never walk without looking at the floor on Monday mornings to save your shoes from the occasional start-of-the-week breakfast hurl. He tells you in the cafeteria that the lasagna was horrible, but not the sloppy joes; the sloppy joes were good. He tells you in the gym that the coach would let you off if you rubbed a little eyeliner under your eyes, “he’s an empath.” 
By the time he’s listing off clubs and teams, you feel a little less nervous, pushing you back into your fuller homeroom with a sign-up sheet and a goodbye. You don’t get to say thank you. 
Kwon Soonyoung slips into the empty seat next to you, introducing himself a little louder than you’d anticipated, but you suppose you needed the enthusiasm. He innocently slips you his home number and hopes out loud that you’d be the best of friends. 
You get in the car that afternoon, responding with a wider-than-expected smile at your mother inquiring about your day. 
“It was great! I think I’ll like it here.”
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You found it strange that the rink was so packed for a high school hockey game, but that was before you saw the ten-foot banner and face paint. Soonyoung sits on your right as Jiwoo places herself on your left, both donned in blue and yellow, sandwiching your uncoordinated outfit. For whatever reason, you’d thought movies exaggerated the hype around high school sports, yet the support for the boys entering the rink roars into your ears to prove you wrong. 
They win, and with the way the rest of the team pats him on the back after sending in the last puck, you assume it’s all thanks to the boy with the Choi on the back of his jersey. 
He removes his helmet, hair flopping into his eyes as you realize you know him. He was always in the cafeteria with Jeonghan, the boy who gave you a tour on your first day, along with many other boys from his year. It was hard not to notice them with the ruckus they were always causing, yet you found them easy to drown out with the rest of the noise. 
“What’s his first name? The guy with the 08 on his back?” you ask Soonyoung. 
“Oh, that’s Seungcheol. Dude’s a fucking progidy or something.”
“Prodigy,” Jiwoo corrects. 
“Yeah, that. Jihoon said the only reason they got to finals last year was ‘cause of this guy.” 
You watch as he drinks from his bottle from the benches, smiling at his coach and teammates as they debriefed. At least you were guessing that was happening; the only thing you were thinking about was how you could hear his laugh from where you sat. And how it was making you smile, too. 
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You stare at your worn shoes that glow in multicolors as the beats in the gym warp and stagger through the speaker. You’re on your third punch, finding yourself awkward without something to occupy at least one hand. 
You had danced a little with Jiwoo, watched with bright eyes as Soonyoung dance off-ed yet another senior to his victory, giggled as you let another freshman, Jun, take Jiwoo away for the next dance. You now lace the edges of the party, taking a breather as you down the remnants of your punch, already trailing the memorized path to the snack table. Maybe you’ll try some of the lemonade this time. 
There’s already somebody occupying the lemonade cooler when you get there, back to you as you patiently wait for him to finish up. He moves away, leaning against the table. He takes a sip from his cup, and you move forward to fill your own. 
It’s Seungcheol. You recall his name as you recognize his face. He somehow looks as haphazard as you last saw him from yesterday’s hockey game. 
If he had come in with a tie, it’s long gone as he has his collar popped and shirt unbuttoned the first few steps. It doesn’t end there as you note the hair that dresses his eyes, soaked in what you cannot imagine is water with the way you saw someone with a similar build typhoon across the floor with nearly as much vigor as Soonyoung has had tonight. 
He’s downing the cup in haste, and you take a sip of the slightly tart drink as you debate if you should say something. 
“You did really well yesterday. Congrats,” you decide to say. 
He emerges from his cup to acknowledge you sipping on your own lemonade, “Oh, thanks. Were you there?” 
“Oh, yeah, I was. First hockey game, went with my friends,” you let out a little chuckle, not understanding why you suddenly felt so awkward. 
“Cool,” he answers plainly, mouth glistening and posture stagnant. “You’re friends with Soonyoung, right? Seen him hang around Jihoon a lot.”
“Yeah, he’s — he’s friends with everybody,” you laugh a little, and you hear him laugh with you. 
“How do you handle him? He’s giving a run for everybody’s money out there,” he gestures to the dance floor with a smile. 
“He mellows out after a while; he’s just excited,” you say, understanding his bewilderment.
“How’re you finding high school so far?” he asks when he runs out of things to say, yet forgets that he can easily excuse himself. But he doesn’t.
“Pretty alright. I’m having fun so far.” You don’t need to ask him the same, knowing well that the sophomore was having the time of his life.
“Good to hear, hope it stays that way for you.”
It’s another painful five seconds before you see Jiwoo waving at you from afar, pointing at something Soonyoung is doing. 
“Uh, I’ll see you around, my friend’s waving me over–”
“Oh, sure, uh, I’ll see you around.”
You give him one more tight-lipped smile as you wave from waist length before retreating. 
“Wait!” 
You turn around at his voice. 
“I never got your name.”
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Seungcheol took you on your first not-date in the spring.
Not-date because neither of you had labeled it as such, but you were pushed to reconsider when both Jiwoo and Soonyoung insisted.
He had brought his car that you slipped into after school to drive to the movies, where he bought you popcorn and paid for both of your tickets. He held your hand as you walked out of the theatre, wide-eyed and all smiles as you discussed the film you had just sat through for two hours. 
His palm fit in yours like it belonged there, and maybe it was your fifteen-year-old brain talking. Still, you never expected to be this comfortable with him — especially after the possible insinuation your friends had instilled. 
He drove you home that night as you searched for a million excuses to stay a little longer in his car as he parked in front of your door. But alas, you open the car door at the end of the night and are surprised to find him doing the same as he walks around to where you get out. 
“I had a lot of fun today,” you say in your rehearsed line.
“Me too,” he smiles. “The weather’s getting nicer, we should see the cherry blossoms next weekend. If you wanted to. We can take the car again.” 
He didn’t kiss you, at least not on the lips as he hugged you at your front door and pressed his lips to your cheek. 
You were quick to squeak out your goodbyes after that happened, slamming your door shut as you vaguely heard him drive off. 
With a hand to your racing heart, you count to ten. Perhaps you’d reconsider that not-date after all. Besides, you had cherry blossoms to look forward to. 
Choi Seungcheol kissed you, really kissed you, when he brought the team to the cup they missed out on last year, throwing himself at you as soon as you appeared before him. He was sweaty, half-dressed in his gear with his skates still on as he embraced you tighter than anyone ever had before. 
He put his lips on yours the second he saw your face as you pulled away, unable to help himself despite the groans and retches of his teammates, despite the fact that an entire bleacher’s worth of people saw you both. 
Not that either of you cared; you were just happy he didn’t have his mouth guard on (and that he kissed you before you couldn’t help it yourself).
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It was in your junior year and Seungcheol’s senior year that you began to hear the absurdities about the strength of your relationship, that you wouldn’t make it, that high school sweethearts never do. 
With shaking hands, you grip your boyfriend’s arm as he has a conflicted look in his eye. 
“No,” you say. You wonder where all of this strength was coming from when you all wanted was to cry. “You’re gonna go. You will go. I won’t let you throw all of this away because of something that’s never gonna waver.” 
He’s silent as he refuses to meet your gaze. The voices were getting to him, his older college friends laughing when he suggested that his relationship would last both college and the distance it would bring. He realizes he’s not so sure anymore. 
He sits cross-legged in front of you on your bedroom floor, mentally prepared to walk out for the last time. 
“You’re supposed to be happiest about this; I don’t understand why you insist I leave. And so far away?” he looks slightly bewildered. 
“Because you’ll regret it if you don’t. This isn’t about me, Cheol, it’s about everything you’ve worked for all these years—”
“Us, what about us? I’ve worked on us, too.”
“Why have you gone years without listening to a word what other people say to only listening to them now?”
“Was it just me, then? Because it feels like I’m the only one worried about our future together—”
“Choi Seungcheol, stop right there.” Your voice is brittle, and you don’t know how long you can keep the tears at bay. 
“I…I don’t know what to think,” his shoulders slump even lower. 
His hockey scholarship would take him so, so far away. He thought you were strong enough for this, but with every anecdote, every comment, every dejected “have it your way” to his resilience, he wonders if the both of you would be forced to fight a losing battle if he left. 
There were sports universities here at home, but there was no you with his scholarship. 
“I’ll tell you what to think. Will you listen to me?” 
Slowly, but surely, he nods. 
“You can get the scholarship you’ve always wanted, and we can stay as we are, although a little farther away.”
He looks like he wants to say something but doesn’t.
“I believe in us. And if you don’t right now, I’m ready to believe for the both of us. We’ll get through this.” 
In the end, Seungcheol believed you over everything the world told him, praying he wouldn’t let you or himself down as he laid with you on the last night he’d call his bedroom home. 
Graduation was a happy endeavor, momentarily forgetting what lay ahead as he enjoyed his last hours with all his friends in one place. The heavy feeling returned as the night progressed, agreeing to spend the night with him, tucked under his covers as you listened to his heartbeat. You wonder how long it will be until you're able to do this again. 
As you lay in his stripped bedroom, there’s little either of you say, an unspoken agreement to not sleep, not tonight. He has an early morning, but he doesn’t really seem to care as he continues to fiddle with your hair, kissing you at intervals like he's trying to bring back the feeling when it begins to fade. 
There’s little you can talk about when you’re trying to memorize each other’s scent. You remind yourself to give him your sweater when morning comes, already noting the hoodie you need to remember to pick up, the lone one he left you in his closet. 
But as the first rays of sun peeked through the blinds, sending stripes of sun into the bedroom, you tried not to feel the hard clench of your heart as the bare room came into sight. Despite the snoozing of alarms, the multiple knocks on his door, and the dawn of a new day, you let yourselves have an extra five, ten, fifteen, twenty minutes. 
Just you and him before it would be you, and it would be him.
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Seungcheol called you more than you called him. It was everywhere, even if it was just to say a quick “I love you” before a game, to hear your voice before he went to class, to listen to you complain about an assignment before he had to do his own. 
As resilient as you showed yourself to be, you’d be lying if you said there was a part of you that was afraid of how much faith Seunghceol held for the both of you, but at ease you were with the constant bugging he’d do and the bugging he seemed to appreciate back. 
By Christmastime, he’d texted you his itinerary for the holidays, explaining how he couldn’t spare a second to things like thinking. Most of his list involved spending all day rotting indoors with you. 
As much as Seungcheol had hoped you’d pick a college nearer to him, he was less scared when you finally announced your college decisions close to graduation. The past year had proved a lot, mostly that you both were stronger than the distance. Which is why he was the first to congratulate you when you got into the college of your choice, despite the fact that you’d be even farther away, leaving home in what felt like the opposite direction to him. 
You were scared too, mostly of how Seungcheol would react, but seeing the smile break out on his face when you told him gave you all the reassurance you needed. That summer brought you the best memories of your teenage years, with Seungcheol, preparing for you both to leave. Except this time, the air was less tense, fewer tears shed, fewer solemn goodbyes at airport gates, and less desperation in both of your hearts. A surety that you’d come back to each other. 
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Seungcheol was offered a contract with his dream hockey team when you were on the cusp of your final year. He told you nearly two weeks after he received the first email, not believing it until he was pestered to do so by the representative. 
You cried on the phone that night, the ache in your chest unbelievably present as you wished you could hug him at that moment. He denied his own tears, but you knew his glassier-than-normal eyes weren’t just through the camera lens. You told him you were proud, you told him this was only the beginning, that you needed to sit in the bleachers with his jersey on for every game he’ll ever play, that he was about to have an entire career to be proud of soon. 
He let a couple tears slip. 
And when he showed up to your graduation, sitting next to your family, you gave him the biggest hug you could muster from your bones. That year may have been the last you’d have to endure apart, but it was somehow the hardest. 
It was in that moment, when you pulled away to look at his smiling face, that the years registered in your mind. 
You’re fifteen again, seeing Seungcheol for the first time, donning the features he hadn’t grown into yet, the features you hadn’t grown into yet. You have to tiptoe to meet his lips now, see a man where there was once a boy, the deep set of maturity behind his pretty eyes. 
When he drops the last of your boxes into his — your shared apartment, you’re brought to the stark realization that you're going to stay here.
It’s when you’re unpacking your toothbrush, placing it in the cup right next to his that you realize you could do whatever you wanted with each other without having to work around flight schedules. It’s when he’s hobbling around wooden planks and screws in the bedroom, putting together the brand new queen-sized bed to replace his too-small twin, that you realize that you weren’t here for the week, or for the month or for any set amount of time; you were here forever.
At least that’s what you hope as you watch him collapse the last of the cardboard boxes to recycle, shoving in the corner of the entryway, leaving that job for tomorrow. 
By the time you emerge in the living room after a shower, Seungcheol has already begun to unpack the delivery food on the coffee table. It’s an array of delicious smells, slightly soggy food, and mounds of styrofoam and plastic wrap; a feast for your tired, tired bodies. 
The dumplings are amazing, and the warm feeling in your chest expands as you realize you can now order them whenever you like. 
Seungcheol picks out the chopped chilies from his food, migrating them onto your own plate as he talks about his next practice session without interruption. 
A thought occurs to you in that moment as you watch him down his cola. “Hasn’t coach put you on a diet plan?” 
“Yeah,” he says normally. You merely stare at him, not understanding how any of this junk could be any good for his form, especially when you know he’s good about abstaining when it comes to training. 
He smiles at the questioning look on your face, setting down his utensils, “It’s our first meal, in our first home. I think we deserve to share this with each other.” 
A smile breaks out on your face at the thought of this being your first meal, the first of many meals together in this home. Of all the meals you’ll share in every home after this, every day. 
And while Seungcheol finds himself sacrificing his diet to enjoy all of this greasy grub with you, you will also find yourself occasionally sharing his awfully bland chicken breasts and salads. All to share with each other. 
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Walking into the bustling restaurant in your uncomfortable shoes and your arm around Seungcheol’s, you’re quick to find the group you’re looking for. 
The noise is a dead giveaway, and you quickly realize they haven’t changed. 
You hear Soonyoung before you see him, his distinct laugh echoing the loudest across the sea of mingling heads. A loud banner hangs at the end of the room with your high school grad year. 
You detach from Seungcheol as he finds his junior friends, and you find yours, taking both Soonyoung and Jiwoo into a bone-crushing hug. It’s been a while since you last saw them. The crowd of familiar faces greets you, making small talk with everyone as they introduce you to their partners and even their children. You’ve grown; all of you have. 
“Seungcheol’s here too. You guys were together in high school, right?” somebody asks you at some point during the night. “He graduated before us, though; wonder who he’s here with.” 
You don’t blame them for assuming, considering both of you have been in your own circles all night. That, added to the obvious assumptions of high school sweethearts, you only laugh a little as you reply with a wider-than-usual smile. 
“Oh, he’s here with me,” 
You go home with a permanent smile stuck to your face, talking more animatedly than usual in the car ride home. Seuncheol mirrors your smile as he listens. 
Your good mood prevails for the rest of the night, even as you slip under the covers, ready to end the night on a happier-than-usual note. Seungcheol is reading his book when you crawl under his arm, head on his chest, and your arm slung across his torso. You feel his lips on the top of your head, the faint sound of his book being placed on the bedside table.  
“What’s got you so smiley?” he asks with one of his own.
You shake your head as you reply, “Nothing. I’m just happy I saw Soonyoung and Jiwoo.”
“I’m glad you saw them too. It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”
You hum in response, suddenly remembering a conversation you had. “You know, Jess asked me who you were there with.” 
“Figures,” he shrugs before laughing a little.“How much did she hesitate before asking you?” 
“Looked like she was holding it in for a little bit. Don’t blame her, though. She probably thought we ended it in epic teenage fashion.” 
He snorts at that, “Probably would’ve if you didn’t talk some sense into me.”
“Probably would’ve if you didn’t trust me like you did,” you crane your neck to look at him. 
“Glad I wasn’t that far gone,” he whispers, a faraway look in his eyes despite looking directly at you. “Haven’t doubted us ever since.”
There’s that warm feeling that spreads throughout your body, an overwhelming feeling of contentment coming over you. There was nothing, nothing, that could convince you to be anywhere else, especially anywhere that wasn’t in his arms. 
“Sometimes…well, a lot of the times, I think about us,” you start. “I thought us hitting six months was enough to tell me I’d be with you forever.” 
He smiles at the thought of high school you, starry-eyed, awkward little kids. He remembers the way you blushed when he kissed you for the first time in front of the whole school, the heat that had risen to his own face at the time. 
“And then we hit a year, and then two years,” you remember every surprise for every anniversary, from when you’d collect your allowance for weeks to get him something he’d like. 
“And then college happened. I tried being so positive, but I had never been more scared for us. I hope we never have to go through something that hard ever again.” You almost sound like a child not wanting to go to the doctor’s office, but with the way you feel yourself tighten your grip around him, you don’t think it’s any different. 
You can feel your eyes begin to well, and your voice begins to shake. It was nearly comical how quickly the smiles were turning into sentimental tears. 
Seungcheol places a kiss on your lips, and you know it was meant to be reassuring, but it only wrenches open the floodgates. The tears begin to make their way down your face, sniffles muffled as you go back to burying your face in his chest, his shirt soaking the wetness. You can feel a rumble in his chest as he laughs at your state. He’s also squeezing up your sides and placing kisses in any place he can reach. 
“I don’t know what’s wrong with me,” you murmur into his shirt. 
“It’s okay. Today was very reflective,” he reassures, letting you stay hidden. 
“I just—” you sniff. “I just wanna stay happy like this all the time.” 
It’s only then that he guides your stained face away from his shirt to bring you to look at him, wiping the remnants of your tears as you try to keep the fresh ones at bay. “We’ll be happy, even when we’re sad. I can’t not be happy when I know I have you. I love you too much for that.”
“I love you,” you whisper into his lips, arms around his neck as you pull yourself to him, chest to chest. You kiss him properly, pecking him a few times to have your fill. 
And then he’s pulling away, ever so slightly to bring a bare millimeter of gap between your lips. His hands burn where they rest, one on your waist, one on your thigh. He’s breathing hard. Both of you are. 
“I’m gonna say something so not fit for right now,” he breathes.
You can’t help but freeze in his hold as you register his words, hesitating before you ask. “What?”
“Marry me.” 
It comes out as the same whisper, directly into your lips as he utters the words. Like he was keeping a secret from the walls and the furniture, like they were only meant for you; because they were only meant for you. Your heart stops, and you vaguely wonder if you’re breathing at all. 
“I—” he takes a long, shaky breath from his nose. “I was supposed to do this a little differently, but…”
You watch him reach over into his bedside drawer, the one you never touch, and bring out the smallest velvet box. Opening it reveals the prettiest, most delicate diamond you’ve ever seen, the jewel glinting and sparkling even in the dim bedroom lights. 
That’s when you let out a tiny gasp, feeling the tears return, dripping down your face one after the other. “Choi Seuncheol, you bitch.”
You’re sobbing at this point, and it has him sitting up straighter, leaving the box to the side as he lurches for you when you pull away. 
“Wait, fuck, sorry, I thought,” he exhales in frustration, hands trying to pull yours away from your face as you cry into your hands. He sounds desperate. “I got carried away, I don’t know what I was thinking—”
“No, it’s not that,” you finally manage through hiccups. 
“Yes, of course, I’ll marry you, I’m just fucking emotional.” 
You hear him laugh again, no doubt out of pure relief, as he nearly doubles over at the situation. 
You’re a little calmer as you continue to sniffle, watching him with a half-disgruntled, half-amused expression, “Put it on, stupid, or do I need to cry again for you to do that.”
You don’t need to tell him twice as he slips the ring on your finger, the perfect fit, the perfect jewel, the perfect ring. 
Bringing him closer, you kiss him again, lips pressed hard on his as you try to communicate every last emotion into it. You’re out of words, and you hope he knows what you're feeling. You know he knows; he always knows. 
He’s reciprocating with the same vigor, arms coming up to wrap around you so tight it pushes you flush against his body. He nips at your lip, running his tongue over it for good measure before letting it enter your mouth. You let him take the lead, let him guide you through every motion, every step forward. 
You’re putty when he pulls off your clothes for you, feeling your heart scream in protest whenever he pulls away to get rid of the obstructions. Your emotions were in a delicate place, and you suddenly couldn’t handle not being able to feel him against you consistently. 
He does well to make it quick, moving back on top of you to occupy your mouth once more. He tries to migrate lower, latching onto your neck to continue his ministrations there, but you don’t let him as you pull his face back to yours again.
“I love you,” you whisper against his mouth before latching onto his lips.
He lets out a low grunt, pulling away for breath as he whispers it back, “I love you more.”
If you won’t let his mouth move, you let his hands do whatever they wish, feeling them move lower against your sides to reach your hips. His thumbs draw circles on them as he slowly moves his hands to where you can feel the arousal grow. 
His fingers hit your bare heat as he plunges them into your folds, encasing your clit between his fingers. He drags them up slowly before moving back down, all the way to your now sopping hole to brush against the opening. 
You sigh against his lips as he pushes his finger in slowly, lips releasing yours as you throw your head back to feel his digit around your walls. He pushes a second one in without hesitation, and you know he’s just as desperate as you right now. 
He’s only two fingers deep, and yet you feel yourself beginning to come undone. He always knew what to do when he wanted to stretch you out faster, always knew what to do when he wanted to draw the pleasure out, keep you writhing for hours. 
Right now was different; it felt like he was holding himself back to the point where it was almost painful. If he wasn’t worried about the stretch, he would’ve buried himself inside you already, and yet, when he feels you clench undeniably hard around his fingers as you orgasm, he feels like he might’ve cum himself. 
His low moans echo off the walls with your louder, more desperate ones, riding out your high as you feel him bring his other hand up to rub your clit in fast circles, making the pleasure last. Coming down from your high, you feel him pause for a moment as he peppers kisses on your face, down your jaw and neck, finally coming to press his lips against yours. 
“You okay?” 
You nod in response, already grasping at his boxers to yank them down. Despite having just orgasmed, the satisfaction is yet to come, needing to feel him inside you before you combusted entirely. 
He helps as he discards himself of the final obstruction, letting you stroke his painfully hard member in your hands. The face he makes is heavenly as you watch him feel your hands wrapped around him. The impatience takes over as he finally removes your hands, instead pinning them beside your head as he guides himself to your entrance. 
Seungcheol goes back to planting himself onto you entirely, knowing exactly what you wanted from him, needing to feel him against you so flush and tight. He lets you wrap your hands around his neck as he finally begins to push himself into you, letting his tip graze the beginning of your entrance. 
He breathes into your neck in deep, deep exhales, trying so hard not to cum before he’s even entered you entirely. He takes his time pushing into you, focusing on your fingers as they play with his hair, your palms running down his shoulder blades in a pathway. He closes his eyes as he sheaths himself in you completely, continuing his steady breaths to not come undone before you. 
He begins to move when he feels like he’s gotten a hold of his bearings, feeling you hold onto him as he starts thrusting into your cunt. The sounds you make are bliss; the feeling of every inch of your skin on his is making him lose his already lost mind. 
Your arms drop when they can’t hold onto him any longer, your hands remaining on him regardless, in some way or the other. Seungcheol takes hold of your hand, emerging from the crook of your neck to bring it to his mouth. He kisses it, your palms, the back of your hand, your fingers, directly over the rock he slipped on you himself. 
The tenderness of his actions makes your brain rattle against your skull, the building feeling in your abdomen coming so close to collapsing into release. You find yourself pushing yourself up on your elbows, face finding the crook of his shoulder as you push yourself back into him when pulled back in the slightest. 
You’re so close now, so, so close. “Cheol,”
“I know, darling. Cum for me, baby, I’ve got you, I’ve always got you.”
You release to the sound of his voice, the words that tumble from his desperate mouth, the feeling of his own cum shooting inside your spent walls. He continues to thrust into you as you both let out the loudest moans of the night, letting yourself get wrapped up in the feeling of each other before you lose your peak. 
You register nothing as you feel him drop his weight on top of you, letting the moment pass. 
Despite having had nights rougher, more lengthy than this, you somehow feel more spent than you have at the end of any of those escapades. The answer comes to you in the few minutes it takes for you both to catch your breath, Cheol being just as fatigued as you despite his athlete stamina. 
You feel him continue to press his lips onto your skin, letting you do the same to him in between kisses. Neither of you speak for another few minutes, letting the heaviness of your hearts come forth in the showers of love you seem to want to give each other. 
He’s grasping your left hand, toying with the ring fitted there. “I can’t wait to spend forever with you.” 
A picture of the both of you hangs on the wall in your bedroom, dim yet decipherable in the low lights. There’s a moment where you have a flash of that same photo on multiple different walls. Different shades of neutral, in different rooms in different houses. It’s the same picture. 
You think of what forever might hold for the both of you, separately and together. You let the prospect of every step, every change, and every milestone wash over you in waves that keep coming, crashing back to feed into another. 
Change, you rehearse. There had been lots of it, and yet you had merely scratched the surface of what life was about to throw at you. You knew that, Seungcheol knew that. But you found yourself, in that moment, convinced in entirety that change is good, whether it feels good or bad. 
Distance makes the heart grow fonder; you didn't realize the meaning of the phrase until you had to live apart from the love of your life. Painful, difficult, sometimes agonizing, yet also necessary, you conclude. You wonder if your love would ever have grown this deep if you hadn’t felt life without each other. 
You think of how far you’ve come, how you’ve grown with each other. There was an encompassing of gratefulness that came with every step you had taken, and with every step you would take henceforth, you knew that for certain. 
Perhaps you would find yourself voicing these emotional thoughts to him, but not now. The unspoken was louder than anything you could say. 
“I can’t wait to spend forever with you, too.”
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