#before you could be anybody you wanted to be. now? now your options are real fuckin limited. “old vampire’’ Usually = white in most cases.

[wickedghxst]

i’m still pissed abt vtmb2 btw. how do you go from complete player freedom in character customization to limiting creativity by locking your character to an already established backstory & minimum of 300 yrs of history. it’s insulting.

[bratbarzal]

The Secret of Us (LH43) 3/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

>PART ONE< / >PART TWO<

the pain of, the reign of, the flame of us

WC: 31k (I need therapy atp)

General Warnings: angst!!! did we expect any less for the final instalment of the epic highs and lows of this criminal situationship? (god bless the anon who sent me that line I think of it daily) cursing probably, inaccurate timeline of events regarding hockey and all but it's fiction just play along lmao, mentions of jack's injury, meddling friends, miscommunication final boss, hypocrisy final boss, jealousy and avoidance final boss and an ending 🙂

A/N: guys I wish I could put into words just how much joy writing this fic has given me, I have so much love and gratitude for the way you all responded to it. writing fic can sometimes be such a lonely and stressful experience in a weird way, especially something as long as this, and you guys turned it into this giant team effort and I felt like you were pushing me along the whole way!! this is such a corny a/n but I really love you all so much - thank you for being so kind to me, thank you for discussing every single element of this fic with me, thank you for loving (or hating lmao) the characters, and making them real enough in my head that they just flew onto the page. thank you to everyone who recommended this fic to anybody else, or who loved it so much that they went through everything else I've written and liked that too!! THANK YOU THANK YOU THANK YOU!!! I hope this final part is loved as much as the rest, and I can't wait to talk to you guys about it!! my ask is always open for lih/tsou discourse!! these two will live with me for the rest of time lmao but I do now feel the need to run and hide because I'm terrified to post this actually so hope you like it lol

You can’t remember the last time you ever felt so lost in your life.

You’ve always been someone that finds your way - lands on your feet, figures things out - because you’ve had no other choice, before. Forced to be independent before you ever needed to be, you can usually work your way out of sticky situations with minimal scarring.

But Luke Hughes has somehow managed to crush you beyond recognition.

You thought things were finally going well, you were taking this monumental leap into something more, kissing him like you’ve been denying yourself for too long, and then all of a sudden you’re struggling to get your words out, letting him assume the worst of you and running with it, because what other option do you have now, knowing that he doesn’t want you back?

You’re a little caught of guard at the initial rejection, but the words that follow make you speechless, entirely, gaping open-mouthed like some dumb-struck idiot as he tells you that he’s moving on, and you only want him because you don’t want to lose him.

And you’re so consumed by this wave of renunciation that you can’t even fight him on it.

And then he’s gone.

The silence that follows Luke’s departure from the porch almost makes your ears pop - pressure building and building to the point of eruption inside your head, and you’re so caught up in your mind that you’re barely functioning otherwise.

It’s below freezing out, a cold wind whipping at your cheeks, and every breath you take feels rough and textured like you’re rubbing coarse sandpaper at your chest cavity - you really shouldn’t be out here, exposed to such harsh conditions, but what does that matter when you would be hurting anyway, no matter where you are.

You don’t even know how you got here.

One second you were running through the house with the best news of your life and only one person in mind to share it with, and the next you were out in the cold - key moments from the night playing in your head like some horror movie sequence. 

Ellie’s warning of, he’s gonna crush you when he starts seeing someone and you get left behind.

The way she’s been keeping it to herself that he already is seeing someone, or speaking to her, at least, whatever that entails - because, the two of you speak. You speak every day. 

Seeing Victoria with her hands on Luke, sinking her claws into him while he gave her one of those cute, toothy grins - the kind that made his eyes gleam and crinkle in the corners. 

And then, I don’t want to be with anybody but you tonight, I promise.

How can anybody possibly hear that and not want to kiss him?

Sure, it was some weird, territorial spur of jealousy that consumed you and forced you to take that final leap, but it’s not like you haven’t thought about doing it before. Sat on your bed watching Wall-E on your birthday, the plush he had bought you tucked into the crook of your elbow and your hand brushing repeatedly against his in the bowl of popcorn. Or when he’d snuck out of your house the morning after, only just managing to evade being caught by your sorority regime and holding you against him with a kiss to the side of your head as the two of you said your goodbyes on the porch.

Does it really matter what the final catalyst was if the finished result was what you’ve both been wanting this entire time? Plus, it’s not like he hasn’t encouraged those feelings before - Mr Tell me that the thought of me even talking to another girl makes your skin crawl.

But that’s the problem. You’re probably too used to acting impulsively with Luke - doing first, thinking later -  and he’s starting to realise it, too, growing tired of your stretched out resistance and finally throwing in the towel.

We both have to find a way to move on.

Maybe it’s not what you’ve both wanted the entire time.

Maybe Luke hasn’t wanted it for a while - has wanted to move on and find someone new. See someone else - speak to her, or whatever.

God, you feel pathetic. 

A feeling that worsens when Ethan finds you, teary eyed and shaking - too consumed by your own humiliation to feel just how cold it is outside until he shrugs a jacket over you, holds it closed in front of your torso and peers down at you with nothing but concern in his chocolate eyes.

His mouth moves, but all you hear is muffled noise alongside the sound of your racing heartbeat, and you try to read his lips, but it’s hard to see through the blur of tears. His hands start rubbing at your arms, and the friction brings everything back into focus, a little. The cold night air, the cologne rubbed into the collar of the jacket, the voice of the caring boy in front of you.

“You’re shaking like a leaf,” he mutters, “Let’s get you home.”

You nod wordlessly as you accept his help, a guiding arm around you that ushers you off the porch, helps you down the steps and pushes you gently to the edge of the yard until you’re walking side by side down the street. You sniffle, not even realising that you’re crying until you try to remedy the dryness in the corner of your lips and taste the salty tears that have fallen there, and you end up crying the whole walk, trying not to be obvious about it - arms wrapped around yourself and head dipped to watch your feet as they move along the sidewalk.

Ethan doesn’t try to talk it out of you, for once, which you’re grateful for, and he walks you all the way up to the front door, turning away without any prompt so you can fetch the key you hid under one of the plants before you left

“Thanks,” you mutter, once you’ve retrieved it, standing back up and watching as he spins back around. “For walking me back, sorry that I got upset and weird.”

“It’s alright,” he shrugs, hands buried in the pockets of his jeans to maintain some semblance of blood flow, the below freezing temperatures making it almost painful to breathe. “Lot of tears for a guy you’re not into, though.”

“Yeah,” you sigh, because what’s the use in denying it anymore. It hasn’t done you any favours this far. You fumble your key into the lock and shoulder the door open, leading him into the house with a silent invitation, thankful that he follows without any hesitation and seals the heat back in behind him. “Can I ask you something?”

“As long as it’s quick, I got a beer pong championship I need to retain, I’m on for a three-peat, kids in this town will be talking about it for years.”

“Well I wouldn’t want to hold you back from greatness,” you scoff, offering a lighthearted chuckle as you shrug off the jacket he had slung over your shoulders before. Luke’s jacket, you’re pretty sure, that in any other circumstances, you’d keep, but the smell of him is probably going to suffocate you if you inhale it any longer. You hold it out to Ethan, quirking a brow when he frowns down at the garment. “You’re off the hook, it was stupid anyway.”

“No, come on,” he prompts, “I was kidding.”

He blinks slowly at you, dark eyes warm and encouraging as he steps a little further into the foyer, leaning against one of the pillars by the door. He’s settled in, and he’s giving the kind of energy that it’s hard not to reciprocate - open and receptive to whatever it is that you want to talk about. 

“Do you guys talk about, like, girls and stuff?” You ask, brows creasing almost immediately at how dumb it sounds to even bring it up. God, you’re starting to hate what he’s turning you into. “I mean, like, if he was into somebody, would he tell you?”

His eyes go darker, somehow, amusement flashing through them as his lips quirk, and he can try all he wants, but it’s so obvious he’s biting back a smile. “He doesn’t have the track record for it since he moved away, no, but Luke’s a pretty private guy. Even when he was here, he was never really big on talking about that kind of stuff.”

“Oh.” You sigh, because great, you’ve just made an idiot out of yourself for no good reason - to Ethan, of all people, who’s been trying to eke information out of you all year. 

“Awful poker face, though,” he adds, “Like anybody could see from a mile off that he is into somebody.”

That doesn’t make you feel any better. If he isn’t talking to the boys about any girl he potentially is interested in, why would he tell you? Maybe you had been wrong, when Ellie brought up him speaking to somebody back in Jersey, maybe he wouldn’t have told you. Maybe he’s a pretty private guy, like Ethan said, and that privacy extends to you in the same way it does to the guys - where Luke keeps his cards close to his chest, just like he had back in summer, when the two of you were a thing. 

“Ellie told me that he was,” you lament, leaning on the pillar closest to Ethan’s, crossing your arms over your chest, “I didn’t believe her, I thought he’d tell me, but now I don’t know.”

“Is that what you’re upset about?” Ethan’s eyes narrow, “That he didn’t tell you?”

“I guess maybe he did,” You sigh, replaying his words over and over in your head. We both have to find a way to move on. I don’t know how long I’m supposed to wait for you to figure it out. It hadn’t been explicit, but the sentiment was there - like he was laying the foundations of something he’d be more ready to build onto at a later date.

Maybe this thing with Yasmin is early days, still. Maybe you put him so far off the idea of letting anyone else in on what could be a good thing - through fear of it all coming crumbling down, just like his relationship with you had done - that he won’t tell anybody until he knows for sure.

“I feel like an idiot.”

The idea of him letting go of his feelings just as you started to come to terms with your own hurts, but you can hardly be mad at him. He had been right - you’d told him in no uncertain terms that you weren’t willing to take things further again, and even though that was almost 6 months ago, now, it doesn’t change the fact that you’ve withheld your feelings, since. You don’t even remember what you were trying to protect yourself from, because it can’t have been as bad as this.

“Maybe you should talk to him before he leaves again, tomorrow,” Ethan suggests, “I can try talk some sense into him if you want?”

“You’re good,” you decline, figuring you’ve done enough invading his privacy for the time being. You need to let him figure things out on his own, you think, instead of acting out of impulse and making everything explode in your face. “I’ll call him in the morning, thanks though.”

Ethan straightens up as he starts to get ready to leave, but just before you can say goodbye, he turns at the door. “He really cares about you, you know.” He tells you, “In case he didn’t tell you that, either. He can be an idiot, but he cares.”

“I know,” you breathe, smiling softly to try and reassure him - because if you do know one thing about Luke in this whole fiasco, it’s that he cares. Whether it’s too much, or not enough, you’re not sure, but it’s there, nonetheless. 

You thank him again, because you really are grateful that he walked you back, and that he was so willing to lend an ear to your stupid questions without making you feel entirely stupid for them, and grins back, boyish and sweet, before he leaves. 

The house is unsettlingly quiet - the rest of the girls either in bed or at the party - and you just want to go to bed, yourself to shut out the unbearable silence, but your room doesn’t provide the kind of escape you thought it might.

One of Luke’s sweatshirts is slung over the back of your desk chair, and even without it being there, you think you’d see him in every corner. He’s in your reflection in the bathroom, brushing his teeth by your side and nudging you out the way to spit the residue into the sink. He’s poking and prodding at your skincare on your vanity, reading the bottles and asking what they do. He’s sat at your desk, looking at your little calendar and telling you that you really need to take a break for yourself when he realises just how many spaces are filled in. And he’s in your bed, his scent in the sheets you’re yet to wash since he slept in here on your birthday - and even that isn’t giving you reprieve like it had the night before.

You can’t get to sleep at all.

And it’s probably morbid curiosity that will be the end of you, because as you lay in your bed, tossing and turning and trying to drown out your thoughts so that you can finally drift off - there’s some stupid, sabotaging part of you that thinks it’s a good idea to open up instagram. And then it seems reasonable to check Luke’s profile, knowing that he hardly ever posts, but heading straight to the accounts that he’s following.

You type her name before you can convince yourself how bad the idea is, watching as the results narrow down to just one with only a few letters, and you click straight through to the profile that remains.

It’s unassuming, initially. Her name is Yasmin Keating. Her bio suggests she’s a student, her location says North Carolina, and most of her feed is dedicated to her time spent decked in blue and white playing basketball at UNC. And she’s gorgeous. She’s athletic, and would probably understand all of his weird sports references more than you do, would probably understand his lifestyle, and the stress he’s under. She’s sociable, probably wouldn’t hide him away and make him feel like some dirty secret.

And one of her latest posts is tagged in New York, from a couple weeks ago. A carousel of photos, each as pretty as the last, and you hold your breath as you swipe through them for any sort of sighting of the curly brown hair you know too well.

The sighting doesn’t come, but as you scroll down a little, you find something just as bad. 

Liked by lhughes_06.

If you were hesitant to accept Ellie’s word for it, confused by Luke’s own reluctance to let you in, and Ethan’s shifty explanation of his best friend’s privacy, then this is the confirmation you need to finally accept the truth.

Luke is moving on.

And maybe you need to let him. 

When Luke wakes up the morning after, his head is pounding. There’s a relentless thud between his ears, and he swears his brain feels loose, like it’s rattling around his skull at even the slightest shake of his head.

He doesn’t think it’s a hangover - he’d had a few drinks, but not that many, and had ended up coming home a lot earlier than anticipated, his party spirit dampening as soon as you left, anyway. He’d fallen asleep with his phone in hand, staring at your message thread and trying to figure out if texting you would be a good idea, so maybe it’s staring at a screen for almost an hour that gave him such a headache, he thinks.

But all his usual remedies aren’t working.

He drinks a full bottle of water straight from the refrigerator, chugging the contents down until the plastic is squeezed to within an inch of its life in his hand, and manages to swallow down some Tylenol with it. He showers, letting the water spray directly onto his neck and shoulders to try and relieve the tension there, and spends a little longer than usual to try and wash the pain away. He even makes himself a decent breakfast to try line his stomach, but by the time 10am rolls around, he still feels like crap.

He is supposed to fly back to Jersey in the late afternoon, and as the hours tick on, there’s a panic that stirs within him - a feeling like he’s forgotten something, already, even though he doesn’t have to leave for a while. His bags were packed yesterday - he had figured he’d get ahead so that he isn’t stressing - and he doesn’t have to worry about returning a rental car, because he’s been driving his dad’s while they’re out of town and is supposed to leave it at the airport, anyway. He’s checked all the windows around the house, and the settings on the heater - there are no dishes in the sink, no clothes left in the washer or dryer, and it’s about as tidy as it was when he arrived last week. 

And it’s only when he checks his phone for what is probably the 20th time that he even realises he keeps doing it - realises what he thinks he’s missing.

You.

He probably would have been with you, if things didn’t blow up last night.

He’d have been at your house, or you’d have been at his, and you’d have kept him busy all the way up until the point he needs to leave. He’d have slept by your side, like he’s pathetically getting so used to doing, now, and would have woken up to your pretty eyes slowly blinking back at him. And he figures that’s why he felt off as soon as he opened his own, with the sun peering into his bedroom through the thin curtains, and the  slight chill that wracked through his body without yours to keep him warm.

You haven’t even text him - the last message on his phone being from Ethan, last night, after he’d dropped you off, one Luke had seen as he sat in the back of his Uber home, all desire to be around anybody swiftly drained as soon as you were gone. 

His hands start to shake the longer he thinks about it, and the more he remembers - pushing you away and watching you leave - and he can’t even rationalise it all, anymore. 

Summer might feel like a lifetime ago, but if that’s the case, then it’s a lifetime of Luke still wanting you. It’s months of trying to fan the flames of your affections, trying to keep the spark alive, despite all the ways you had told him it was long blown out. 

He knows. He’s always known that there was something left.

But he’s tired of being the only one who believes in it, anymore.

Jack doesn’t support him, his parents are none the wiser, his teammates barely have time for their own relationship dramas, let alone his, and the only person who had ever encouraged him to pursue more with you lives on the other side of the continent. 

But right now, the last remedy that comes to mind is a call with his oldest brother - one last ditch attempt to clear his mind before he flies back to Jersey and throws himself back into hockey for the last few months. 

He’s found himself calling Quinn much more while he’s been home alone for the past 10 days, with Jack busy with the tournament, and his parents busy watching them - he thinks there’s a common ground there, with Quinn, where he’s sort of detached to the point of novelty when it comes to Luke’s life. 

He offers a fresh perspective, gives unbiased advice - helps him make pancakes over FaceTime for the girl in his bed who isn’t his girlfriend, and doesn’t make snarky comments or push him to talk about it. 

And so he’s pressing on his contact before he can think better of it - waiting until Quinn’s face pops up on his screen, seemingly propped up while he makes himself a breakfast smoothie all the way over in Vancouver. 

“Lukey, what’s up?”

“Hey man, you got a minute?”

“Sure, let me just back away from the blender before I try to multitask and blitz my kitchen.”

He watches with a grateful smile as Quinn makes his way through his apartment, walking into the living room himself and throwing himself down onto the seat in the bay window.

“Surprised you found the time to call me, thought you’d be spending your morning at a certain sorority or something.” His older brother laughs as he lowers himself down onto the couch in his apartment, the view behind him that of a misty Vancouver, the sun barely seeping through the clouds.

It makes him feel a little closer, to see it - peering through the glass at the front of their parent’s house, himself, and looking up at familiar grey skies.

“That’s kind of what I wanted to talk to you about.” Luke frowns, hating the way his gut twists guiltily at the vague memory of last night - of your elation turning into evasion, and the way he still thinks he can taste you if he swipes his tongue across his bottom lip. “I don’t think she wants to see me right now.”

“What did you do?”

“Why do you assume I’m the problem?” 

“Are you not?”

“I don’t even know.” He groans, looking back on the evening with a lot more clarity than his beer-goggles had allowed him, before. “I sort of blew up at her last night about something, I had a couple drinks, and I think I was pretty harsh. She left the party early and we’d usually text by now, but I think she’s probably avoiding me.”

“You’re gonna have to quit being so vague if you want me to help you out, man.”

The look Quinn is giving is like the virtual version of a brotherly swat, a blank but bold stare at the screen that’s his own silent way of telling his little brother to just spit it out, already.

And Luke takes little convincing - despite all the months he’s held back from doing so. This is technically a boiling point, and keeping this whole thing between the two of you such a secret has done absolutely nothing to serve him, so far. He could really use the help, he thinks.

“We’re supposed to be friends.” Luke sighs, “Back in summer, we had a thing, like we were sort of, almost together,” he cringes as he says it, unable to think of a better way to lay it out. Sure, he’d spoken to Quinn a little about you, back then - had admitted to having a crush, at least, but he hadn’t shared much past that. And it’s different with his older brother, he thinks, on the other side of the continent, oblivious somewhat to Luke’s day to day, and just how much it probably involved you by now. He needs to explain it for it all to make any kind of sense. “Like we were hanging out together all the time, and sleeping together, and it sounds like a mess but it was perfect when it was just us.”

“Are you waiting for me to be shocked or something?” Quinn queries after a moment’s pause, quirking a brow with narrowed eyes pointed straight at the camera. “Because we all knew you were sort of, almost together, you couldn’t have been any more obvious about it if you tried. Was it supposed to be a secret?”

“I don’t even know anymore,” Luke huffs out an elongated breath, the whole thing feeling like a waste of time, right about now. Keeping you hidden, abiding by your rules of saying nothing about whatever was going on between the two of you. What was the point in kissing you behind closed doors and rushing you back to your bedroom in the mornings if everybody knew, anyway? What could the two of you be, now, if you hadn’t held yourselves back? “I really fell for her, though. Hard. Like the worst hit I’ve ever taken in my life. And I fucked it all up by being stupid, and I said some pretty awful stuff about her that she overheard,” he winces, hating even looking back on that stupid conversation with Cole, not wanting to slip and indulge too much to his oldest brother about it through fear of valid judgement. “And it took her a while to let me back in, and she said that we’d only ever be friends, and obviously I want to be more, obviously I’m still in love with her, but she made it pretty clear we’d never cross that line again, and I can’t spend the rest of my life standing at the wrong end of a bridge I can’t cross, do you know what I mean?”

“No,” Quinn deadpans, “I’ve never heard anything so dumb in my life.”

“She kissed me, last night, Quinn,”

“Sounds horrific.”

“And I pushed her away,”

“Sounds idiotic.”

“You don’t get it,” Luke’s jaw tenses, glaring at his brother through the screen. “She only kissed me ‘cause she didn’t want me to kiss somebody else. She saw me with this girl she hates and I found her after, she was pretty upset.”

“Lukey boy,” Quinn chuckles, giving an amused, crooked smile on the other end of the call, “You’re so full of shit, the hot girl that you like kissed you, it’s hardly the end of the world.”

“Don’t be a dick, Q,” Luke scowls, trying to push past the flare of agitation that lights within him at his brother referring to you as the hot girl. Even he can see how hypocritical it is, but it’s instinct - he can’t exactly fight it.

“No, come on,” his older brother starts, straightening up where he’s seemingly reclining on the couch, a surefire sign that he’s about to give some sort of lecture. “You spend your whole summer obsessed with her, and God-knows how long before that, and you fuck up so monumentally that the girl doesn’t talk to you for like 6 weeks, and then by some miracle she lets you back in and you fuck it up again.”

“Jack said I should move on,” Luke huffs in response, some attempt at trying to rationalise how stupid he had been to push her away last night.

“Jack’s an idiot.”

“He said that she’s probably moving on, and he made out that it was all sort of one-sided, and you know how much him and Ellie talk, I figured it had to have come from somewhere-,”

“It came from him being an idiot,” He repeats, “And it must be contagious, because why would you not just talk to her instead of letting it all blow up like that?”

“I tried,” Luke whines, “We went to a game together last week, I asked her about dating and stuff,”

“And?”

Luke frowns as he tries to remember the crux of the conversation - you’d joked that you wouldn’t go to a hockey game on a date, that you hadn’t been going to games on dates, and it never really expanded further than that, his attempt too specific to the situation and not the wider issue. 

“I guess she said she wasn’t, but I probably wasn’t asking the right question.” He admits, blinking slowly as he tries to come up with any other reason why he had acted so irrationally the night before.

“So let me get this straight,” Quinn’s voice brings him back a little, shoulders stiffening in preparation of the verbal lashing he’s no-doubt about to receive. “You two spend a whole week together, like every waking second in her company when she’s not in class or with her friends, she spends valentines and her birthday with you, she tells you that she isn’t dating anybody else, she gets so upset about seeing you with somebody else that you find her almost in tears, and you somehow ignore all of the evidence that she is, in fact, into you, only to push her away because Jack implied she might have moved on?”

Well that sounds fucking stupid, Luke thinks. 

“But she-,”

“She what?” Quinn asks, raising an expectant brow. “She snuck you into her house all week, despite the fact we both know how strict those girls can be about having guys over? She spent every day doing things that were important to you, trying to learn about the things you like, hanging around your friends, coming to you when she was upset?”

“You don’t get it,” Luke huffs, regretting all the information he’d been sharing with his brother throughout the last week right about now - not realising the little parts would be pieced together and used against him like this. “She told me she only wanted to be friends, she told me multiple times, and she only ever wants more when she is upset, like I’m just there to comfort her, or something.”

It had been the same back in summer, initially - you only ever sought him out when you were agitated or emotional over something you wouldn’t talk to him about. You followed him up to his bathroom after seeing him with Victoria, you brought him upstairs to his room in the middle of a party after an argument with Jack - and he had been fine with it, at the time - encouraged it, even, trying to flare up your jealousy to prompt you to give in to him, taking whatever scraps of your affections you were willing to give - but this feels different. 

He can’t keep carrying on like this.

“Don’t you want to comfort her?”

“Of course I fucking want to comfort her,” he scoffs, because it isn’t about that. He loves you, he’ll always want to comfort you if you’re hurting or upset, but he can’t keep himself on stand by to be available to your methods of avoiding your problems only for you to keep pushing him away, otherwise. “But, I don’t know, there has to be a line, you know?” He sighs, “I have to put a line there before I fall any further and she pulls the rug from under me when she does start dating. Like she just saw me speaking to some girl she doesn’t like, and then she said she doesn’t want to see me with anyone else, but she still wants to be friends! I told her that we both need to move on, I don’t even know why, I don’t even think I want her to.”

“You need to talk to her, man,” Quinn frowns, “You need to tell her that.”

“That’s what last night was-,”

“No, last night was impulse,” he sighs back, “It was you after a few drinks, and both of your emotions at a high, and you blew up at her out of nowhere. Sure, she probably shouldn’t have kissed you, but you’ve got to give her a chance for her to think about what she wants instead of just telling her she needs to move on because she didn’t give you the right answer in the moment, Luke.”

You weren’t there, Luke wants to say, you don’t understand.

But maybe that’s the point. Maybe an outsider’s perspective - someone like Quinn, who is fair and reasonable, who doesn’t let his loyalty to or protectiveness over his little brother cloud his judgement, who always understood the depths of his relationship with you before Luke could ever admit it to anybody - sees more than Luke could, himself.

“Go over, before you head to the airport,” Quinn says, his tone suggestive, but classically authoritative, “You don’t wanna leave it like that, trust me.”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes, “Thanks, man, sorry for dumping all of this on you.”

“It’s fine,” Quinn smiles back, crooked and familiar, bringing the kind of comfort Luke finds himself craving, sometimes, when his other brother is being a dick. “I’d rather you come to me than Jack, he just ends up making a bigger mess that I have to clean.”

Luke gives some attempt at a laugh that doesn’t quite seem right with how heavy everything else feels, and lets his brother carry on with his own morning routine with no more whining from him. 

He gets himself ready, loads his bag into the trunk, and makes sure everything is locked up and secure before setting off across town on a route he now knows like the back of his hand. He sits in the car, parked up across the street from your house, for 10 minutes - trying to think of how he can possibly clear everything up before he leaves - when he sees something that makes his breath catch.

You come out of the house, bundled in what looks like a bunch of layers and his sweatshirt on top, your backpack slung over your shoulder, and you’re smiling as you turn back to speak to someone following you out of the house. Even from as far away as Luke is, the sight of your smile calms something within him, but that calm quickly turns frigid as he takes notice of who is coming through the door behind you.

Ethan is wearing the same clothes as last night, his hair is shaggy and unkempt, and Luke recognises the kind of wry grin he’s flashing your way from back when the two of them lived together when he was in college. It’s the kind of smile that follows a phrase Luke can still hear in the back of his mind, as if it were last uttered to him yesterday, and not almost 2 years ago. I don’t kiss and tell.

And that swirl of panic comes back tenfold - fingers clenching against the wheel as he starts the car back up and drives off as quick as he can, not wanting to watch anymore of whatever scene that was between the two of you unfold. 

If he hadn’t regretted last night before, he sure does, now - because he understands you more than ever - 8 familiar words ringing around his skull like a siren sound. 

I don’t want to watch you move on, you had told him, pupils blown and lips swollen as you spoke, the surface of them still slick and pink from his bruising kiss. And being the idiot he is, he had encouraged you to do just that - had thought it would be what’s best for you both, what’s healthy and right.

But he doesn’t want to watch you move on, either.

And now it seems like he has no choice.

Trying to distract yourself from the fact that Luke is actively avoiding you is harder than you ever thought it would be.

You lived so much of your life before him that it really shouldn’t take a lot of effort to try and reignite some form of your old routine, but as the days pass by - and the conversation lulls, the texts dwindle into short responses, and the FaceTimes cease entirely - you think you might have forgotten what your world was ever like without him. 

You throw yourself back into your school work for a couple weeks, but it doesn’t really work the same as it used to, and you find yourself thinking about your future too much - about your grades, about NYU, about all the plans that involved him and now don’t seem as certain as they once did. You get back into the groove with your sorority responsibilities, spend a lot more time with your sisters, helping to plan the activities and events like you did a lot more last year, but you find yourself checking Luke’s game schedule more often than you should, trying to make sure nothing clashes even though he probably doesn’t care by now and he no doubt has Yasmin to support him instead of you.

And then you try to do things for yourself. You get back into your routine at the gym, you pick up swimming again and even volunteer on your one day off a week to teach a few lessons at the rec centre, thankful for those few hours you spend with a bunch of kids who just want to splash around and dive for the random items you throw into the deep end for them. 

You manage to find some semblance of balance, but he’s always in the back of your mind, and before you know it, weeks have passed - whatever spark you had left with Luke fading as they do - and the last text you have from him is from 5 days ago. You’d tried to lure him into a movie night, asking about his availability, and he’d said he would let you know. He never did. And that is what led you to tonight - going out to the movies instead of sitting on your bed and thinking Luke should be beside you, and you figured it was the safer option, going somewhere that you never went with him.

You even ran into Ethan while you were out - and where the initial sight of him might have previously made you a little nauseous just from the connection to Luke, the last few weeks have alleviated that, somewhat.

After Ethan had dropped you home that night of the party, you’d left your bedroom to find him hiding behind a corner at the top of the stairs while the rest of your sisters lingered around at the bottom. He had been wearing the same clothes from the night before, and was close enough to your friend Megan’s room to understand that he had spent the night there. And you know Megan well enough to know she probably kicked him out and left him to his own devices, too exhausted to try and sneak him out of the house, herself.

So you did the honours - you figure you’d gotten good at it with the amount of times you had snuck Luke in and out the week prior - and helped him navigate his way out without getting caught, leaving the house with him on your way to class. He’d offered to drive you as repayment, and you’d gladly accepted, and the two of you ended up speaking more often - finding comfort in the way you didn’t really have to hide from him, anymore. He’d seen a vulnerable part of you that you no longer had to cover up, and it had been nice to have someone else that you didn’t really have to pretend around.

The local IMAX was playing The Martian, one of your favourites - so what if it was something you watched with Luke all the way back in summer? And you’d just planned on watching the movie and going home, but bumping into Ethan had stretched out your plans a little. 

You’d both been hungry after the movie, despite the copious amounts of popcorn you ate and the giant soda you drank, and he suggested grabbing burgers. And then the burger place he drove out to was right beside an arcade, and he’d wandered in there first, really - you just followed - but you don’t regret it. 

You ended up having a lot of fun - the weightless kind, where Luke sort of slipped from the back of your mind. And it wasn’t even just Luke that slipped - it was the stress of school, of your finals coming up, of finding out your dad was going to be on vacation again when you were due to graduate, and you’d gotten into a fight with your mom about NYU and turning down the job you had lined up back in Chicago. It was all the things that you’d been bottling up now that you didn’t really have Luke to talk to, and forgetting them for even just one night was nice.

Ethan had dropped you home after the arcade, and left you at the side of the street in front of the sorority house with the stuffed animal you had won just for Ellie, because she’d seen the little duck in the back of the picture you sent to her of your whereabouts. 

And you’re just about to knock on her door when it swings open - Ellie’s eyes red and her cheeks puffy with fresh tears, alarm and panic in her features that immediately elicited the same in your own. 

“What’s wrong?” You ask, heart seeming to thud to a dramatic stop as you watch her lips tremble and she ushers you into her bedroom.

“It’s Jack,” Ellie sniffles, “He got hurt, it’s pretty bad.”

“Oh, El,” you reach out to take her into your embrace, rubbing at her back as sobs wrack straight through her spine. “What happened?”

“He took a hit and went straight into the boards, I can’t bring myself to watch the replay, they’re saying on twitter that he passed out, and I can’t get a hold of anybody. Could you watch it for me? Could you tell me if he looks alright?” You hadn’t even realised there was a game on tonight - too consumed in your plans and your determination to have a night off from thinking about Luke to even check.

“Oh, I don’t-,” You break away, trying to think of how best to get out of it. You’re really not the best with injuries, and if it’s bad enough for her to be this upset, you have a feeling it’s going to make you feel sick. “Maybe I should ask Ethan to come over and watch it for you, I-,”

“Please?” She pleads, eyes round and welling with tears, a surefire way to get you to agree. “I just need someone to be honest with me.”

“Yeah,” You resign, holding out your hand for Ellie to give you her phone, seeing the video is already loaded once she’s unlocked it. “Yeah, alright.”

Ellie turns away with her hands covering her ears as you press play, and you watch as Jack skates toward the net, readying himself for the puck to be played towards him, not expecting the way he’s being approached from behind all of a sudden, and can’t bring himself to a stop before he’s colliding straight into the boards, the opposition player bumping straight into the back of him.

You try not to wince at the impact, at the way Jack’s body goes limp and he has to be turned over by the other player. You try to focus on the positives before you assemble your thoughts - he gets up, he can skate on his own, he isn’t bleeding anywhere - but it’s hard when you know him. 

It’s hard when, as much as you and Jack don’t really get along, you’re similar in more ways than you’d like to admit, and you know that seeing him express even the slightest bit of pain must mean he’s in absolute agony.

She said that she wants honesty, but you know Ellie - she doesn’t want to worry, you don’t want her to worry, not until she knows all the facts.

“He’s up, he’s skating off,” you tell her, glancing up and offering what you hope is a comforting smile, a slight twist of your lips that does little, probably, to hide your own concern. “I don’t think it’s the same shoulder he hurt last year.” You remember how much she stressed about that at the time - about his surgery, and the aftermath, and you’d been living with him back at the beginning of summer, enough to know which side he previously had in a sling, or which side he avoided doing much activity with in the earlier weeks. “It doesn’t look great, but at least he can take himself off the ice, right?”

Even from clips of the incident, you can tell how much it worries the people around him - players on the ice, fans in the stands, and you wonder for a second about Luke, about how it must feel to watch from the bench and have to carry on without knowing what’s happening. 

And now you’re worried about him. 

You hand Ellie’s phone back over, watching as she chews nervously at the inside of her cheek, spinning the device in her hand and fidgeting erratically.

“I’ll wait with you until we hear something,” you promise, placing a hand gently on her lap to try and stop her knee from bouncing. You hand the stuffed animal you’re still holding out to her, and she takes it with a limp smile that comes nowhere close to reaching her eyes. “I’ll get you a drink, do you want something warm to calm you down? I can make you a sleepy tea, if you want?”

Ellie nods, eyes glistening as she maintains that weak effort of a smile, and you smile back, an attempt at reassurance before you hand her phone back and head downstairs to the kitchen. You’re thankful it’s empty when you finally walk in, able to wait around while the water boils and try to calm yourself down. 

You know it’s selfish as soon as you start to think it - your best friend in pieces upstairs about her boyfriend being hurt - but all that flashes through your mind is Luke. That could have been Luke. How would you feel if Luke was hurt? How do you feel that he’s potentially, probably hurting now, even thought it isn’t him? How are you supposed to help him through this from so far away, with everything going on, afraid to even text him first, anymore? Would he even want you to?

 Your cellphone burns a hole in your back pocket, the urge to reach out is practically making your fingers itch, and you cast a glance to the clock that flashes on the little screen on the range. He’s probably back in his hotel, by now. Or he’s with Jack and the medical team. 

You could call him. Just so you’ve at least tried. Just so he knows you’re there if he needs you, and that the last few weeks of minimal contact mean nothing if there’s any potential of something happening to him.

Sitting around and dwelling on the fact that he hasn’t tried to call you is pathetic, you think. It’s self-centred and petty, and you need to be better than that. He deserves better than that.

So, as Ellie’s tea is brewing, you reach into your pocket, swipe at your phone with muscle memory and bring it up to your ear, waiting for the beep of his voicemail so that you can leave some sort of message, even if he probably won’t listen. 

“Hey,” his voice cuts at your spiralling thoughts, low and tired, more like a sigh than anything else, and your body straightens against the counter as you rush to respond.

“Hi,” you say, a weird flutter in your chest at the mere sound of his voice after so long. “I didn’t think you’d pick up.”

He doesn’t reply other than a little huff, and you’re sort of thankful for it - if he doesn’t reply, he can’t say something you don’t want to hear, like how he doesn’t want to hear from you.

“I just got back to the house and Ellie told me about Jack, I wanted to check on you.”

“Pretty late to be just getting back,” he murmurs, and you hear a little shuffling, like he’s moving around, before you hear the soft clasp of a door in the background. “You overstay your welcome at the library again?”

“No,” you breathe out a little laugh, leaning against the counter as you watch steam rise from the mug of tea sat on top. “I finally followed your advice, actually,” you tell him in the hopes that hearing that might perk him up just a little. “Ditched the books for a day, did a whole lot of not studying.”

For as long as you’ve been stressing about school, Luke has been trying to guide you towards some sort of balance - giving yourself a little grace to actually have a breather - and maybe your main stressor hadn’t been studying, this time, but he doesn’t need to hear that, right now. 

“Oh, really?” You can hear his smile through the phone, small but sure, and the sound of it eases a little of the anxiety swelling in the pits of your stomach. “You get up to anything cool?”

“Yeah, actually,” you stir at Ellie’s tea absentmindedly, hoping you’re offering some sort of distraction. “They were playing The Martian at the IMAX, I got all up close and personal with Matt Damon and his shitty potatoes.”

“Sounds like you had fun,” he snorts, and you’d like to think you can hear the soft semblance of a smile, even if his heart isn’t entirely in it.

“It was great, we went to go get burgers and play pinball after, which is why I’m so late home.” You sigh, only just starting to feel the exhaustion from it, hoping this sleepy tea does its wonders on Ellie so that you can both go to bed pretty quick. “I feel like I haven’t done anything fun like that all year.”

“Who’d you go with?”

“Just Ethan,” you scoop the teabag from the water and dispose of it, frowning as you realised you’ve somehow made this whole call about yourself, guilt seeping into your subconscious. “But enough about me, how’s everything with you? How’s Jack? Ellie said she hasn’t been able to reach him, which is why I thought you wouldn’t pick up.”

“Uh, they think they’re gonna send him back to Jersey,” Luke laments, “He’s gonna miss the game in Dallas, he’s convinced his season is over, so he’s pretty down right now. I think he’s about to give El a call and tell her.”

“What about you?” You bite your lip, hoping Ellie is occupied upstairs and you can stay on with Luke a little longer. This feels less charged than the last few times you’ve spoken - easier, despite the heavy topic - and you just want him to know that this sort of stuff is still on the cards. At least, you hope it is. “Can’t have been easy, watching him go down like that.”

“I’m fine.” The way he says it is short, obviously a lie, and you try to tell yourself not to take it personally. Luke never usually lies to you. Sometimes he doesn’t really talk about stuff, but he’s never hidden his feelings from you. But this isn’t the kind of thing the two of you have really had to navigate, before. Maybe it’s even the kind of thing he doesn’t want to navigate with you - maybe it’s something friends don’t navigate together. 

“You know you can talk to me if you’re not,” you assure him, in the hopes that he won’t shut you out. “I told Ellie I’d stay with her for a bit, but I can always call you after, even if you don’t want to talk, it’s been a while, I-,”

“I’m fine,” he repeats, even shorter this time, his tone clipped, and the silence that follows feels like it goes on forever. 

“Okay,” You croak after a moment, hesitance creeping up on you, again, all joviality from the previous conversation drained.

“I gotta go,”

“Luke, I-,” you don’t even know what you want to say, but there’s this voice inside that’s screaming to say something. To put up some sort of fight, to make sure he knows you want to be there for him. But this sudden reluctance is all consuming. It’s debilitating, even, and it overpowers that meek, unsure voice in a booming, unavoidable roar, that tells you he doesn’t want your help. He wants to move on, and you’re not letting him. And so all you can bring yourself to say, again, is “Okay,” like a whispered resignation. 

He mutters out some form of goodbye before he hangs, up, and you find yourself staring at the billowing steam rising from the mug of sleepy tea until a hand on your shoulder shakes you from your reverie.

“Was starting to think you’d knocked yourself out with this stuff,” Ellie huffs out a weak laugh as she steps up to the counter beside you, taking the mug by the handle and bringing it to her lips. You watch as she takes a sip, as the line of frustration between her brows smooths itself out, and her shoulders slump a little, relaxed and soothed. “Just spoke to Jack, he’s flying out to Jersey in the morning for further evaluation, said he’ll update me after.”

“Oh,” you shake yourself out of your own head, feigning ignorance as you cross your arms over your chest. You can’t tell her about your call with Luke, partly because you don’t know what Jack has told her to try and ease her worries, and partly because talking about Luke with Ellie fills you with unyielding dread every time, and it’s the last thing you need. “Does he have any idea what’s wrong?”

“Won’t know until tomorrow,” she sighs, “He thinks he’s gonna need surgery, though.”

“Shit,” you mutter.

“I think if that’s the case, I might ditch spring break and go spend it with him. Help him out while I can, you know?”

You nod, pressing your lips together. The two of you were booked on a trip to Cabo, your last spring break together as seniors, and a few of your sisters were going, too, so you won’t be on your own if she does have to ditch you. You can’t hold any resentment about it. 

You’d do the same, if it happened to Luke, you think. Not that he probably would want you to, anymore.

Maybe that’s the problem. Maybe he’s right about boundaries, and blurred lines. Maybe you’re taking things too far.

“Of course,” you try to offer comfort, a reassuring smile that doesn’t feel as authentic as you’d like and a gentle pat to her shoulder, hoping you don’t reek of condescension.

Ellie chews at the corner of her bottom lip, like she wants to say something else, but nods, instead, diverting her gaze as she sips at her tea. “I’m here for you too, you know,” she says, after a few seconds, eyes peering up carefully to meet yours. “If you need me.”

“I’m not the one with the broken boyfriend,” you chuckle softly, thankful for the smile she gives back, a little of the tension eased from your shoulders. 

The fact that you’re the one with the breaking bond goes unspoken, but you can tell Ellie is thinking it - it’s why she offered, in the first place, more perceptive of your situation with Luke than you probably give her credit for.

But you don’t want her pity - you don’t deserve it. You made your own bed with Luke, and all you can really do now is lie in it. He doesn’t want you anymore - not in the same capacity he used to, not like summer, whenever he cast a heated glance your way, and you’d feel it all the way through to your bones. You don’t think you’ll ever go back to that, it’s too late to get that back. You need to give him the space he so clearly desires, and maybe the two of you can find your way back to something resembling the friendship you had before you monumentally fucked it all up.

And maybe Ellie can give you the perfect distraction to do just that - focusing on fixing your relationship with her instead of investing all your efforts on a guy that no longer wants you back.

Luke knows it’s a selfish thing to say, but Jack’s injury has been hard on him.

For the second year in a row, his brother has had to end his season early, at the most crucial, cut-throat point as the team battle to make it to the playoffs, and Luke has had to shoulder a lot of the aftermath on his own.

There’s media, who are constantly asking him about it, waiting to trip him up, make him share something he’s not supposed to, or say something he doesn’t want to, and every time there’s a camera or a microphone shoved into his face, he dreads the social media discourse that follows. 

There’s commentators and people in the league themselves, providing a constant reminder that the Devils are at some sort of disadvantage, and have to work twice as hard to make up for everyone that’s slowly succumbing to the brutality of the sport as they finally near the peak.

There’s coming home to an empty apartment while Jack’s away getting his surgery, and trying not to worry or overthink what he’s going through.

And then there’s Jack himself, when he returns - a grouchy, bitter mess of a person who can’t see the wood for the trees, can’t focus on anything other than where he’s stuck, watching his team persist in his absence and wishing more than anything in the world he can take someone’s place - that the misfortunes that keep finding him lose track, just once - even though he would never want anyone else to hurt like that. 

And trying to juggle accommodating his brother's situation with his own is rough. Back to back losses following Jack’s departure, increased pressure on Luke as he takes on more responsibility within the team, and if you throw all of that in with the loss of his own coping mechanisms, Luke has found himself in a rut.

He isn’t sleeping the best, and he’s distanced from everyone - too in his head about seeing you and Ethan together to reach out to either one of you where he usually would - and he’s losing himself as the weeks blur by, and it isn’t until Jack mentions that Ellie is around that he lets himself think about you - about everything that happened in his bye-week, about how he’s been a pretty shitty friend to you, since.

“It’s spring break,” Jack says as Luke comes home to find him up and dressed for what seems like the first time since he got back from his surgery - struggling to shrug into a jacket while he only really has use of one arm. “She came out to spend it with me, gonna go over to her rental and watch a movie, you’re coming too.”

“Dude, I’m exhausted,” Luke huffs, throwing his keys into the bowl by the door as he watches his brother glare back at him, “I just want to go to bed, you don’t need me around when you’re hanging out with your girlfriend, I really don’t want to be seeing all that.”

“Lucky for you, there’s nothing to see,” Jack scowls back, “Ellie brought hell-spawn over with her, that’s why she isn’t staying here. Need you to work your magic as you seem to be the only one of us she can tolerate and I’m not in the mood for her bullshit.”

You’re in Jersey?

“I thought they were going to Cabo?” Luke frowns, too in his head about the fact that you’re in Jersey without telling him that he doesn’t call Jack out on how stupid he sounds, stopping in place as he watches his brother shrug in response.

“Ellie wanted to come out and see me, I guess she followed.”

And before Luke knows it, he’s driving the two of them over to the condo the two of you have rented for the week, and Ellie is answering the door with a giant grin on her face, cooing at Jack as she ushers them inside. 

He’s looking around like a madman until she tells him you’re in the kitchen, and that you’re gonna need some help getting the snacks and drinks together - and despite it only being a few feet away, Luke feels breathless as he barges through the door, like he can’t calm down until he sees you in person.

Your back is to him when he enters, but the commotion he makes is enough to draw your attention, and your eyes are wide when they land on him, and not in the way that he usually likes.

Something about this whole situation makes him uneasy - the weeks of minimal contact, the lack of closure, the way you’re looking at him like you don’t know what to say. 

You’ve never not known what to say, not when it comes to him.

“Hi,” he offers, because it’s the easiest thing for you to respond to, and the rest of the problems between the two of you are his own fault, so he may as well be the one to start to fix them.

“Hey,” you give back, the microwave pinging behind you, and you turn back to retrieve the bags from in there before you transfer them to the side. “I didn’t realise you were coming.”

“I didn’t realise you’d be in town,” he frowns, “Last you told me you guys were going to Mexico, your big senior spring break trip.”

That had been last month, and he has been a little distant since he left Michigan, but if you’re around, he would want to know about it. He can’t fathom why you’d be in the same city and not even tell him that you’re around. 

He also can’t fathom why you’d give up something you’ve been looking forward to all year.

“Yeah, well, Ellie wanted to be here for Jack,” you shrug, busying yourself by emptying the popcorn out of the bag and into a few bigger bowls. He can’t remember ever having a conversation where you didn’t give him your full attention, and he feels a little nervous as he watches you focus on anything but him. “And I want to be here for Ellie, she shouldn’t have to miss out on her last spring break.”

“You couldn’t have told me?”

“Thought you’d be busy,” you reply, still not looking his way, “You’ve been busy most times I’ve tried to reach out the past few weeks.”

He wants to tell you that’s different, but it isn’t. He’s been avoiding you, and it’s obvious to the both of you that he’s been using the distance as the perfect excuse. He technically has been busy, but it’s no more than he was before that night in Michigan, and he managed to make time for you then. Sure, he’s been on the road, and there’s been a string of some pretty shitty games, but he’d had the same in January, too, and the two of you still kept up texting, at least.

“I mean, I’m playing like every other day this week,” he pouts, “But I’d still want to see you.”

He watches as your brows knit together, your movements coming to a halt as you stand in front of the counter, still not sparing him a glance. You pull your bottom lip between your teeth as you contemplate a response, and he wants to give you the time to think of one - doesn’t want to rush you again into saying something you don’t entirely mean.

He might have ignored Quinn’s instruction to clear up this entire mess before he left Michigan, but the rest of that conversation has still been weighing on his mind - about how he had been impulsive, and unfair, and he hadn’t considered all the ways you showed him things, without necessarily telling him. 

“There is this art installation I wanted to visit,” you tell him, hesitantly meeting his eye, “We could go together, if you’re free at all?”

“As friends?” He asks, because he can’t help himself, watching as your eyebrows raise a little, like you’ve just been hit by an unexpected impact.

“Yeah,” you nod, although you don’t look entirely sure. “As friends.”

And he hates how he can’t even withhold the disappointed sigh he gives, your own shoulders slumping as you notice the reaction, and you retreat a little into your previous distance, eyes darting down until he can no longer see your irises. 

“Maybe we should do something else,” he mutters, trying to push down the immediate need to backtrack when you don’t even respond, “You could come to a game, or something? An installation sounds cool and all, but that’s the kind of thing you do on a date, and we’re supposed to be moving on, right?”

“Are you?” You ask, peering up at him, again, “Moving on?”

He nods before he even realises he’s doing it, but it’s too late to stop before you notice, and all he can think about is the day he came back to Jersey, when he’d seen you leave your house with Ethan. All he can think about is losing you, and for some stupid reason, he thinks this is the only way to stop that. “I’m trying,” he shrugs, like he isn’t actively saying the most insanely stupid lie he’s ever told, “It’s what we said we’d do.” And he only says that to make himself feel better, he thinks - that you were only ever following the rules that he laid out for you, because it helps him to be delusional like that.

“Oh, okay,” you breathe, stepping back with a pained attempt at a smile and dodging his gaze, again, even quieter in your acceptance of his rejection, and it sort of makes him panic. “Yeah, it was stupid, this was stupid, I’m sorry.”

“You don’t have to be sorry,” he frowns, the way he so quickly needs to correct you when you try to shrug him off coming by instinct, now. And he doesn’t like where this is going, now - misses the way you used to just roll your eyes and call him an idiot when he’d act like this, choosing the wrong path at every turn. He doesn’t think he’s ever heard you call yourself stupid, and he has to try to reassure you. “It’s not stupid, it’s cool, it sounds like it would be fun, it’s just-,”

“Not together,” you bite back, “I get it.”

He sighs out your name, regretful and apologetic, “That’s not-,”

“Are you guys almost done in here?” Ellie huffs as she shoulders her way into the kitchen, features curled into a soft scowl as she stomps toward the counter, and Luke bites down on his tongue, fighting the sudden urge to tell her to go away. Her and his brother both have the single worst timing he’s ever known in his life. “Jack won’t shut up about how hungry he is." 

“Yeah, sorry,” you mutter, “We’re ready.”

And Luke steps back to let the two of you carry some drinks and snacks through to the living room, holding the door open for the two of you and trying to meet your eye as you slip past, his chest aching all over when you don’t. He grabs whatever’s left and follows the two of you out, watching as you sink down into one of the smaller loveseats, 

Jack and Ellie are taking up most of the couch, so he walks straight over to the seat opposite yours, an entire coffee table separating the two of you where you’d usually sit together, and he tries not to think about the last time you watched a movie - your birthday, when you’d been squished up against his side in your bed, the Wall-E plush he got you smushed between you as you watched the film, itself. 

The last time things had felt easy - the last time any of it had felt right.

And then he’d gone and ruined it.

Jack tees up Good Will Hunting, huffing and puffing when the remote isn’t working like he wants it to but refusing to accept anyone’s help on the matter, and Luke busies himself with his phone while it starts, trying to sort some tickets for his next game so he doesn’t let you down on that front, either, and every time he peers over at you, he thinks the tension grows, somehow, your jaw set and your eyes focusing only on the screen. 

He dips in and out of the movie, waiting for an update so that he can hopefully set about bridging the gap between the two of you tonight, and he only tunes back in at random intervals.

He’s seen it before, it’s one of his favourites, and he probably could quote it back to front without assistance, but certain parts have a new meaning when he really hears them, this time. 

Especially when it comes to a certain monologue, the comforting voice of Robin Williams ringing throughout the room as his character sits beside Will in the park, watching the swans and realising just how short Will’s perspective on life is. 

“If I ask you about women, you'd probably give me a syllabus about your personal favourites. You may have even been laid a few times. But you can't tell me what it feels like to wake up next to a woman and feel truly happy.”

He tries not to glance your way, his jaw tight as he blinks slow, recollections of waking up by your side flashing in his mind like something out of a dream. A blissful peace he hasn’t quite experienced elsewhere, his eyes flitting around your features as you slept, trying to study every inch of your face to commit it to his memory, never knowing if each time he got to experience it that it might be the last.

“I'd ask you about love, you'd probably quote me a sonnet. But you've never looked at a woman and been totally vulnerable. Known someone that could level you with her eyes, feeling like God put an angel on earth just for you. Who could rescue you from the depths of hell.”

He thinks of all those times he sought you out for his own personal comfort - after back to back games that drained every ounce of his energy, long stretches away from the comfort of his own bed, the constant comparisons to his brothers, and how he’d always come up short - but he was always first, to you.

Even when the two of you were caught up in the in-between, whatever you were before - friends, or something more - he always felt like a priority to you. Always wanted you to feel like a priority to him.

“And you wouldn't know what it's like to be her angel, to have that love for her be there forever, through anything.” 

The night of your birthday, the light in your eyes when he gave you those gifts, the soft but beautiful curve of your lips as you told him he was your best friend. The way you were worried he’d get tired of you, and he had promised that he wouldn’t. 

“You don't know about real loss, 'cause it only occurs when you've loved something more than you love yourself. And I doubt you've ever dared to love anybody that much.”

He hopes with everything in him that this isn’t the same - that he isn’t losing you. That his own immaturity and impatience hasn’t ruined the best thing he ever had in his life.

Because he does love you. He’s loved you for a long time, now.

Since the night of his cousin’s wedding, he thinks, when you’d opened up to him for the first time. Back when you laid in his arms in the dead of the night, your head on his chest and his arms around your body, and it finally felt like you were equals. Like he could stop chasing you, like you’d stop running.

He’s never felt the way he feels with you about anybody else. He doesn’t want to, doesn’t think he possibly could.

He doesn’t know why he ever made out like he could move on. 

But he’s too familiar with saying things he regrets, now. It just keeps happening. Mouthing off to Cole back in summer, agreeing to be just friends in the fall, telling you that he can’t wait around for you at the end of winter, that he’s trying to move on. 

Quinn was right, that morning when he called - he keeps doing stupid stuff out of impulse. Keeps letting his emotions get the better of him, and not giving you a chance to figure things out for yourself. 

When he finds the courage to glance your way again, he just about catches you before you look away - a blink and you’ll miss it moment where he’s not even sure if he imagined it, but he keeps trying for the rest of the movie, a lot more focused on the ending than he previously was on his phone.  

He thinks when it ends, and the credits start to roll, he’ll be able to find a way to ease the tension - to get you alone and talk it out, but his stupid brother opens his stupid mouth, and things escalate before he can even make sense of what’s happening. 

“Stuff like that just doesn’t happen in real life,” Jack huffs, giving his thoughts on how Will chose to leave and go after Skylar, despite their mess of a relationship and how much he hurt her before, “These big love confessions, this whole corny, I gotta see about a girl, thing, why wouldn’t he just be honest about his feelings in the first place instead of trying to sabotage himself? Would save them a lot of trouble.”

You scoff from your own corner of the couch, and Luke’s eyes dart over just in time to catch the distinct roll of your eyes, barely even sparing a glance to Jack as you say, “That’s rich coming from you.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” Jack winces as he straightens up, Ellie frowning from under his good arm as she follows suit, and Luke feels his own shoulders stiffen in anticipation of an argument - Jack’s been riled up to have one since he got injured, and you’re walking straight into a trap without knowing it.

But you can handle yourself, he thinks, especially when it comes to Jack. 

Only something in you deflates when he looks again, the usual tenacity dissolving right before his eyes, and he watches as your gaze softens, flicking between the couple at the opposite end of the couch. “Forget it, doesn’t matter,” you mutter, your jaw set and your attention diverted back to the screen as the credits roll. 

“That’s what I thought,” Jack grumbles back, accepting the swat Ellie gives to his good side to tell him to reign it in.

Luke doesn’t know why he stays silent, the urge to speak up for you is so strong it’s making his fingers twitch, but you sink into your place against the arm of the seat and fold your arms over yourself, like you’re giving up entirely. 

“I was just saying, he’s a smartass, he’s hard work and she isn’t cut out for it, it shouldn’t be such a struggle to get somebody to open up, their relationship probably wouldn’t last a month once the movie’s over, if she even lets him back in when he goes to California, that is.”

Luke can see as clear as anything that Jack’s only using the film to vent his own frustrations - that he’s angry, and he’s exhausted, and he’s upset at everybody and everything - but he only understands that because it’s his brother. Because he’s known him his whole life. Because he gets where he’s coming from as a player - and Luke thinks he would be the same, if his season came to an abrupt end when he was on such a high, and all he’d known for the past month was loss and pain. He’d be angry, he’d snap at people, try to get them to hurt just a little bit so that it means he’s not alone. And it’s shitty, but he gets it - if his words were spoken to hurt Luke, he’d probably just shoulder the blow.

But they aren’t.

They’re meant to hurt you.

And when Luke looks over, and you’re staring at the wall with a distant, glassy look in your eyes, your lips twisted to stop them trembling, and your arms wrapped around yourself so tight that your shoulders are all hunched up, he can’t really bite his tongue anymore.

“You’re such a hypocrite,” he spits, eyes narrowing as they focus in on his brother, “You’re hard work, and you’re lucky Ellie isn’t running for the hills,”

“Whoa,” Jack frowns back, lips pouting as he diverts his attention across the room, “Chill out, man, it’s just a movie, I’m just saying my thoughts on it.”

“No one asked for your thoughts on it,” Luke scowls, “You’re being a dick for no reason, you don’t always have to spout your opinion on every little thing like it’s fact and shut down anyone who tries to argue with it.”

He expects to have caught your attention, seeing you move out of the corner of his eye, but he doesn’t expect for you to push yourself up and leave the room entirely, your feet padding softly against the carpet until the sound of them disappears completely, and the door to the kitchen swings closed behind you. 

“Clearly touched a nerve,” Jack mumbles, and even Ellie pushes herself off of him, rolling her eyes until she storms off after you. 

Luke almost wishes she hadn’t - wishes that he could be the one to go and comfort you, but after your conversation in the kitchen, before, he’s not sure if that’s what you would want. 

And he knows it’s his fault for this wedge that’s between the two of you, after pushing you away and telling you to move on and getting all in his feelings about you potentially doing so, leaving Michigan before the two of you could actually talk about it and neglecting to patch up the now gaping hole in your relationship - but he doesn’t know how to fix it.

He doesn’t know how he can sit around and pretend like everything’s fine.

“You really can be an asshole, you know,” Luke snaps at his brother, using the situation as a cover for the way he wants someone to tell him the same - wants you to say it, for you to tell him that he’s dumb, and an idiot, and that he’s hurting you. He doesn’t want you avoiding eye contact and sitting on the other side of the room and coming to Jersey without even telling him. 

“It’s not that deep, Luke-,”

“Seriously?” He scoffs, standing from his own seat and glaring down at Jack, his good arm sprawled across the back of the couch like he’s trying his best to make himself bigger, like Luke can’t see straight through the facade. “I get that you’re having a shitty time of it right now, but you don’t have to take it out on everybody else. You asked me to come with you to try and keep things from blowing up, but all you do is make digs at her for no good reason. I don’t get why you can’t just be nice.”

“I asked you to come with me because I thought you two were friends,” Jack lowers his voice, mindful of the fact that there’s only a wall that separates you and Ellie from the two of them, and he’s obviously on the verge of being in his girlfriend’s bad books after his behaviour. “She was annoyed about something before we even started the movie, it doesn’t take a genius to figure out what when she won’t even look your way, Luke. I’m sick of you blaming me for her pissy attitude and not just having it out with her.”

God, he wishes Jack would just butt out of his business, for once.

Why can’t there be a middle ground between his unrelenting cynicism and Quinn’s blind hope?

If there was just one distinct voice for him to listen to, one clear instruction for him to follow, then he’d be able to make sense of everything swirling around his brain. 

He thinks that voice would probably be yours, and he’s going to fall apart if you keep it from him much longer.

“I think you two should go,” Ellie’s voice carries softly over from where she’s come back out of the kitchen, “You have that appointment in the morning, Jack, and you have a game tomorrow,” her eyes are cautious as she casts her gaze toward Luke, raising a brow as if pleading for his help in getting his brother out of the way.

“Yeah,” he mutters, cursing himself for not being the one to go straight after you, instead.

Jack doesn’t put up much of a fight other than his usual huffing and puffing as Ellie helps him into his coat, and Luke gives the two of them a second to say their goodbyes as he stands to the side, keeping an eye on the door you’re yet to reappear through. He wants to give you space - knows that he shouldn’t follow you in there to corner you again, but if you peek your head out, maybe he’ll feel a little less anxious. Maybe then there’s hope.

“Could you let her know I got her a ticket for the game tomorrow?” He asks Ellie before he leaves, “I can get you one, too, a couple of the guys from Michigan are gonna be there, I’d love it if she came.”

“I’ll let her know, Luke,” Ellie’s smile is apologetic, but it just makes him feel worse, and he drives him and Jack back to their apartment in the most uncomfortable silence of his life, his jaw set so hard it aches when he’s home, and he storms straight to his room with a dramatic slam of his door.

He opens up your text thread as he lays awake for what feels like an hour, staring at the keyboard and willing some sort of explanation to come to his head as to why he’s such an idiot.

And that’s how he ends up falling asleep, phone still clutched on his hand, and no further clarification on what the hell is going to happen with the two of you.

When Ellie had told you last night about Luke’s invitation to his game, it had felt like a no brainer at the time that you’d skip this one out. 

You don’t really know how many more knock backs you can take from him after telling him about the installation - an exhibit you’d seen online months ago, that would only be in town for a limited time following its success in Europe, and Luke had been the only person in mind you’d have ever wanted to go with.

But he doesn’t want to go with you.

He wants you at a safe distance, with distinct boundaries, and while you’re grateful for his attempt to try and lessen the blow of his rejection, you think foregoing the game entirely is the safest distance you could possibly wedge between the two of you.

As friends? He’d asked, almost immediately, like he was rubbing your face in it - like the mere thought of you wanting to go as anything more wasn’t even worth entertaining, anymore. And agreeing had been your last attempt to save face, because the last thing you were gonna do was put your heart on the line with his dickhead brother only one room away. You’re not that much of an idiot.

Plus, Ellie has taken your place - and she said some of the guys from college would be there, anyway. He probably won’t even notice you’re not there, just like how he’s managed to pretty much ignore your existence since he left Michigan.

And you can enjoy your first night of peace during your spring break, the others so far consumed by Ellie - not that you mind, all that much, it’s been kind of nice for the two of you to be away from everything, even though you’re within dangerous proximity to her demon boyfriend.

The rental she found is nice, too - the kind of place you could see yourself living in when you move over this way - spacious but cozy, with a giant TV that you can’t wait to watch your heart-shredding movie marathon on.

You set the space up as soon as Ellie left for the game, blankets thrown onto the couch, an array of snacks on the table, My Best Friend’s Wedding on the screen, and you’re about to settle in when there’s a harsh knock at the door, shattering your illusion of peace in an instant.

You grumble the whole way to the door, making sure the chain is on before you open it - all too aware you’re on your own in a city you aren’t entirely familiar with, and it would be just your luck to be murdered, probably.

But when you open the door, you almost wish it was a masked killer.

Jack Hughes stands on the porch, eyes narrowing as you peer at him through the crack in the door, his hip popped impatiently and foot tapping against the floor. 

“What the hell are you doing here?”

“Are you gonna let me in?” he asks, raising a brow as he huffs out an irritable sigh, “Considering I’m paying for the place, I really shouldn’t have to ask.”

You frown as you move, unlatching the door and giving him enough room to pass you without the risk of bumping your shoulder and agitating his. “I didn’t know that,” you mumble, annoyed even more so now that Ellie had chosen not to tell you that. You suppose it’s your own fault for not asking, but she of all people knows how you are about others paying your way. “That you were paying, I’ll pay you back if it’s a problem.”

“It isn’t.” He rolls his eyes as he stands in the room you thought was actually nice before he arrived, and now you sort of hate it. 

“Alright, well you didn’t answer my question,” you glare, “Why are you here?”

“I’m supposed to be checking up on you,” he says, rounding the couch before he throws himself down onto it, kicking off his shoes before he swings his legs up. “Usually when I have a headache so bad I can’t leave the house, watching the TV is the last thing I’d be doing.”

“Yeah, well, some of us are built different,” you scowl, “I’m fine, you can go ahead and crawl back to whatever pit you came from, I’ll let Ellie know you fulfilled your supportive boyfriend duties for the month.”

“Can’t actually,” he shrugs his good shoulder, reaching forward and grabbing the remote from where you left it. “Game’s starting in ten minutes, I won’t make it back to my place in time so you’re stuck with me for the next few hours.”

“Great.”

“Plus, Ellie didn’t send me, Luke did.” 

You don’t exactly know how to feel about that. Jack couldn’t be more obvious in his distain for you, and you couldn’t have made it any clearer that you aren’t his biggest fan either, so why Luke would send him of all people instead of just texting you and asking if you’re alright, you don’t know. Especially after the movie last night - Jack is the last person on Earth you would want checking up on you.

“Sorry he wasted your time, then,” you sigh, “I’m gonna go to bed.”

“We both know you don’t have a headache,” Jack calls over his shoulder, “So you can give up the act. You’d really leave a guy in a sling on his own for hours? What if I need a drink?”

“That’s what your good arm’s for,” you smile, sardonically, a quick flash of sarcasm that drops as soon as Jack rolls his eyes, “So lucky that you have two.”

“Please?” He asks, uncharacteristically, the sudden shock of him actually being polite instead of demanding causing you to still, “I don’t like watching the games on my own, it makes me all tense, which makes everything hurt a whole lot more.”

And the sudden vulnerability from him seems to hypnotise you, huffing out a petulant fine and sitting as far away from him on the couch as you possibly can.

You’re leaning against one arm, and he’s leaning against the other, and the two of you sit through the build up and the first ten minutes in complete silence until he notices that you’re actually watching, unable to help himself from being a dick, apparently, and asking, “Do you even know what’s going on?”

“No, I just watch for the hot guys,” you scoff, “Thank god you’re not there to lower the average anymore.”

The genuine laugh he snorts out in response in unexpected, and you side eye him until you can feel his attention is completely diverted, the two of you settling back into the quiet until a play towards the end of the first period stuns the two of you.

Luke has the puck, and he’s going so fast you can barely focus, gliding in between the opposition seamlessly until he’s advancing on the net, and just as he’s about to shoot, a much bigger body slams into him, knocking him back until he collides with the boards and crumples over, and a sickening sense of deja vu creeps up on you so quick it makes you dizzy.

You watch the aftermath wide eyed, the whole thing blurring together as Luke takes himself off the ice, and disappears down the tunnel.

The game carries on, but you can’t move - you don’t even think you’ve blinked in a minute - and your mouth is still gaped open like an idiot, the inside of it drying so much that you feel it all the way down your throat.

“He’ll be alright,” you hear from the side of you, a hesitant, reassuring tone that you don’t think you’ve heard come from Jack, before. You turn your head to meet his eye, and his body is fully angled towards you, his gaze scrutinising and intense. “It’s just a knock, he’ll be back on after the intermission probably.”

“Reassuring coming from the guy who just had to have surgery after a knock.” You can’t help but snap back, little bite in your own inflection, but you ache from the tip of your tongue all the way down to your stomach. It didn’t look like just a knock - you’ve seen Luke take knocks before and never have to go off for medical attention - it looked way worse. And all they’re gonna do for the next 15 minutes is replay it over and over.

You feel sick.

“Lukey’s made of harder stuff,” Jack responds, the same relaxed lull to his voice. “That’s what my dad’s always said, anyway. Quinn would tell you the same, there’s something about him that always just bounces straight back, pisses me off a little sometimes, if I’m honest.”

You should probably know that better than anyone - for all the times you’ve pushed him away. But you’re starting to lose faith in that fact, a little. 

“I just don’t want him to be hurt.” You mutter, trying to swallow past the stinging at the back of your throat, gulp down the growing insecurity that maybe you’ve made him weaker, maybe, somehow, this too is your fault.

“My phone’ll probably go off during the break” Jack sits up a little straighter, gesturing out to his cell that sits on the coffee table in front of the couch. “They’ll text me as soon as they’re done taking a look at him. I promise they’d know by now already if it was anything serious. I’d have gotten a call, our medical team are seriously good, they can tell stuff like that in an instant.”

It might be the fact that you’re relying on Jack Hughes of all people for reassurance that forces the tears to start welling in your eyes, your view of him blurring a little - or maybe the fact that he’s actually wilfully giving the reassurance, but either way, you don’t really want him to see you cry.

You sit in an uncomfortable silence as you watch the rest of the period, fidgeting in your place on the couch and picking painfully at the skin beside your fingernails, and it’s only when the last few seconds tick down that you can see Jack shuffle himself in your peripheral, turning until he’s properly facing you again.

“You really care about him, huh?”

You try to blink away the remaining threat of tears before you turn, yourself, meeting Jack’s eye across the couch and trying to muster up some sort of strength to shrug off this awful feeling that you can’t shake. “I’m not the heartless bitch you think I am, Jack,” you denounce, “Of course I care about him.”

He narrows his eyes in a glare, and you can tell he’s biting his tongue, careful not to goad you into some disastrous argument that neither of you really want. Last night had no doubt scratched his itch to lash out at somebody, and you don’t really think you’ll manage a round two.

The two of you stay locked in a heated, silent exchange for a few extended seconds, his jaw tense and your teeth chewing at the corner of your mouth in anticipation.

“Do you love him?”

“It doesn’t matter,” you sigh, like it’s instinctual at this point, and you wince, even, once the words come out. They feel wrong. They feel like a bare-faced lie. Like some foreign language you have no business even attempting to speak. “I’m hard work, you know that, he knows that, and I think I’m all out of chances to try and convince him otherwise.”

“He doesn’t think you’re hard work,” Jack replies, “Trust me, I’ve been trying to convince him of as much since last summer, and he refuses to listen.”

“He said it himself to Cole,” you huff, hating how quick the memory comes to the forefront of your mind, hearing him say those things about you like it was nothing, replaying them over and over in your head like they were everything. “I heard it, Ellie heard it, he said that I wasn’t the kind of girl that he would date, and that I wasn’t worth the hassle.”

“And I’m sure he told you after that he didn’t mean any of that,” Jack tries to defend, brows furrowing as he thinks of any way to get his point across. “People say stupid things in the heat of the moment, we know that better than anybody, you can’t seriously think he actually believes that stuff,”

“He had to have been thinking it for it to have been said in the heat of the moment, Jack, he didn’t pull all that stuff out of his ass. He always knew it wasn’t gonna work out.”

Jack sighs your name, his free hand rising to rub at his temple in exasperation, and you wait as he winces, your eyes darting to check for any uncomfortable movements with his shoulder - but it’s something else that’s bothering him. 

“I put those thoughts into his head.”

The concept isn’t surprising - you’ve always known Jack hadn’t liked you, always knew he was badmouthing you to whoever would listen, and snarking at you for the entire house to see. It’s what he’d done last night, using the movie as some sort of metaphor for just how fucked up you are, and everybody in the room could see it.

“I told him every opportunity I could get that you weren’t gonna work out, and that you were bad news, and you’d just mess him around until you got bored.” Jack admits, and again, you’re not shocked. He’d said as much to your face. You even thought you’d resolved this whole thing with him last summer, before everything went to shit, but he’s been off with you since then, so you have no doubt his sentiments have picked straight back up where they left off all those months ago. “And every time I did, he’d just tell me to go fuck myself. Still does. I tell him all the time you’re not good for him, and he just tells me I don’t know you. You’re like the only thing we fight about, and we live together for God’s sake, he’s messy as all hell and I don’t give him half as much grief about that as he gives me about being a dick to you.”

“You’re just proving my point,” you huff, “If I’m causing arguments between the two of you, I’m hardly the kind of person he should be keeping around.”

“He loves you too, you know,” Jack offers as rebuttal, raising a brow as if pushing you to fight back on the fact when you zero in on him. “He told Quinn when he was in Michigan. I got this huge lecture off of him about butting in on your business where I’m not wanted.”

You chew a little at the corner of your mouth, the sudden, inappropriate urge to laugh rising within you at the thought of Jack getting a telling off from his big brother. 

“I’ve been angry this whole time that he doesn’t talk to me about stuff when it comes to you, but I guess I’ve been giving him a good reason not to.”

And as much as you don’t get along with Jack, the thought of driving a wedge between them - between all of them - makes you feel like crap, so all you can do is carry on fighting him.

“He wants to move on,” you shrug, “And he said some pretty shitty stuff about me back in summer when Cole said he wanted to take me out, he doesn’t think as highly of me as he makes out.”

“You’re gonna sit there and tell me that if a girl came up to you and said they were gonna ask him out, you wouldn’t try and talk them out of it?” Like you didn’t storm off at the mere sight of him with Victoria at that party. Like you haven’t been spiralling for weeks over him liking some girl’s post on instagram. “That you wouldn’t feel like someone was trying to take something from you?”

Of course you’d feel that way, you think.

Luke Hughes might be the only person you’ve ever let all the way in, and if someone were to swoop in and snatch him from your clutches, you’d probably go insane.

You’d do anything you could to deter them - including using Luke’s flaws and self-doubts against him. You’d even stretch them to fit your agenda, exaggerating the depth of them to make sure you really put them off.

You’d tell them he can be really insecure - that he gets in his head about stuff, especially anything that can be considered a comparison to his brothers - and that sometimes it brings out something avoidant and petty within him. You’d tell them that he isn’t serious when he needs to be, and that, 9 times out of 10, he’s going to crack some awkward joke that doesn’t land and he doesn’t really know how to properly resolve tension. You’d tell them that he craves validation, and it can be a minefield sometimes to navigate his need for attention. 

You wouldn’t tell them that you love all those things - that he gives you this look when you stroke his ego that makes your heart stop, and that your sense of humour matches his like two perfectly placed pieces of a puzzle, and that he somehow manages to creep under your thick skin when you’re trying to stay mad or upset for no reason other than you think you need to. You wouldn’t tell them that he fills the exact same validation-void in yourself, and that the two of you balance each other out like two sides of the same coin.

And as much as the things he had said last summer crushed you - and for as many times as you’ve replayed them in your head over and over for the past several months since hearing them - you think you finally get it.

Jack Hughes is going to be the last person that you admit that to, though.

“We’re not each other’s property,” you protest weakly, instead.

“Oh don’t come at me with that bullshit,” he exasperates, rolling his eyes and shaking his head, “I’m not saying he owned you, or that you own him, I’m saying the two of you put in way too much fucking work for someone else to reap the benefits of it.”

“You have a lot to say, all of a sudden, for someone who’s been trying to put him off of me for God-knows how long.”

“Yeah, well, maybe I was wrong about you.” He huffs, like it pains him to say it, “And maybe last night I was angry about something else entirely, and I took it out on you because I didn’t want to feel that way on my own.”

Oh.

If that’s as close to an apology as you’re gonna get, you don’t think you entirely mind it.

It makes sense, after all, you think. The two of you have always had this incessant need to rile the other up, and you were the easiest bait he had to make himself feel better.

If you’d had a month like Jack just had, you’d probably do the same.

“Why didn’t you go to the game?” He asks, and just as your lips part to respond, he adds, “And don’t insult me with the whole headache thing,” forcing you to press them back together. 

You sigh, weighing up in your mind if it’s even worth it to open up to Jack at this point. Sure, he’s making out like he finally sees your true intentions, but does it really matter anymore?

“He doesn’t want me there.”

“Of course he wants you there,” Jack frowns, features curling in confusion. “He got you a ticket, he invited you.”

“It was like a consolation thing,” You huff, thinking back on that conversation in the kitchen, where you’d mustered up the courage to cross some unspoken boundary, and he’d shut you down. “I wanted to do something else together, and he said it was too much, said we should be moving on. Blurring me into a crowd of thousands is the only alternative, apparently.”

Jack snorts out some muffled noise, somewhere between a chuckle and a scoff, and you glare at him as you wait for him to clarify whatever the hell sort of response that was. “You’re both as annoying as each other, you know.”

“Whatever,” you pout, shuffling your body to turn away from him again as you fold your arms over your chest like a petulant child, “He wants to move on, so I’m giving him the space to do that. I’m done with it.”

You don’t know who you’re trying to convince, but you should know better than to think that would ever work on him.

“Right,” Jack snickers, “So done with it that you’re sat here almost crying at the thought of something happening to him.” You scowl, then, because what’s the point in trying to soften your reactions if he’s just going to be an asshole about it. “He’s fine, by the way,” he shakes his phone, then, giving a blurry glimpse of a message thread you can’t even read.

And you thought good news would have lessened the pressure in your chest, this pulsing, swelling feeling that grips at your heart like a vice at the thought of him being hurt - but it doesn’t really go down, at all.

Luke said he wanted to move on. He said he wanted to be friends, and that the two of you should stop blurring the lines.

So why is he sending one brother across the city to check up on you? And why is he telling the other that he loves you?

You weren’t entirely lying, before. 

You are done.

And the only way you think you can ease this pain now is to talk it out, with him, once and for all. 

Trying to talk to Luke is harder than you ever thought it could be.

Texting him seems out of the question, as stupid as that sounds, but when you open up your messages to try, you’re faced with weeks worth of one-word responses that put you straight off - the thought of him shutting you down one more time almost toppling you over the edge of insanity.

And you could call, but it fills you with the same sort of dread. The last time the two of you spoke on the phone had been when Jack was injured - when you’d offered to be there for him if he needed you and he’d sort of snapped at you.

And sure, emotions were high, but things haven’t really been the same since that conversation. They haven’t been the same since the kiss, but there’s a part of you that doesn’t really want the burden of all the blame on your shoulders for once.

There have been countless opportunities for the you to clear everything up, but there have been chances for him, too, and you’re starting to think that maybe the two of you are far too content to let each other suffer instead of actually communicating your feelings like adults.

And after you spend the whole day after the game you missed dwelling on that fact, you’re grateful for a little reprieve when you get a text from Ethan, in town to talk about his own career, who wants to go out for drinks to toast to everything - to spring break, to your NYU acceptance, his devils contract.

He drops a pin for a bar in Hoboken, and you and Ellie make your way down together, meeting up with him and a few of the other guys to celebrate, and it’s the first night in a while that you feel like you don’t need to stress about anything.

You manage to push Luke to the back of your mind for a while, sat in a booth beside Ethan as he shows you pictures of the apartment he went to look at a couple days ago, his plans to move over here coming a lot sooner than yours, but apparently the building have vacancies coming up in the fall, and the two of you talk about how weird it is that you’re gonna be close, again. 

You’re joking with him about his hookup with your sorority sister Megan, threatening to bring her over as your roommate and giggling into your hand through a drunken buzz, when the one person you’re trying to forget for a second appears out of nowhere, standing beside the booth as he looks down at the two of you with an unfamiliar sadness in his eyes. He looks a little run down, dressed in a hoody that stretches across his shoulders, and donning a baseball cap that’s probably supposed to keep his presence lowkey. 

“Lukey boy!” Ethan exclaims as he stands to greet him, the two of them doing that brotherly fist bump and hug that all guys do, “Thought you were too beat to come out!”

“Changed my mind,” he shrugs, eyes glancing back at you. “You mind if I sit?”

“Nope,” you shrug, nodding to the opposite side, where he slides in, and his knees knock against yours under the table.

“I’ll get you a drink,” Ethan tells him, winking over at you as he backs away, your eyes wide as you watch him retreat before you look back at Luke, the silence around you almost visible in animated ellipses that dot in the space between the two of you.

“Since when are the two of you so friendly?” He asks, tone surprisingly bitter as his eyes darken, and you feel your defences build despite them usually being so weak in his presence.

“We’ve always been friendly,” you frown, “Since when are you so rude? What happened to hello, how are you?”

“I don’t know, probably since you started avoiding me,” he juts out his bottom lip, leaning into the back of the booth and stretching his hands out on the surface, “Hard to stay nice when you come to town without telling me and send Ellie to a game I specifically invited you to.”

“You told me you didn’t want to hang out with me,” you scoff, uneasy with how quick this entire conversation is escalating. You’re a little tipsy, but there’s no excuse for how he’s so quick to snap at you. 

“That’s not what I said and you know it,” he huffs.

“No, I don’t know it, because you’ve been avoiding me too,” you bite back, “Why are you being such a dick all of a sudden?”

“You kissed me,” he leans forward onto his elbows, eyes dark under the shadow of the bill of his cap, and you feel a shudder run through you at the intensity behind his gaze, at the memory the mere mention of it invokes - combined with the rasp in his voice, it’s taking everything in you to fight the urge to do it again. “It was barely 3 weeks ago, and now you’re here, without telling me, and you won’t talk to me, and you’re all buddy-buddy with Ethan all of a sudden-,”

“You pushed me away,” you snap back, eyes narrowing to mirror his, “You told me I was making things harder for you, and that I should move on, and then you started avoiding my calls and sending one word responses to my texts, you don’t get to sit there and be an asshole to me just because I’m hanging out with somebody else.”

“So that’s what this is,” He points over to where Ethan is lingering at the bar, no doubt flashing those puppy-dog eyes to the girl behind it, a charming grin cast her way as you can see her blush from all the way across the room. ”This is you moving on?”

“Ethan and I are just friends,” you frown, watching as Luke’s jaw tenses in response, clenching at either side of his face in a way that would usually turn your mouth dry. “I’m not moving on, we aren’t dating.”

Luke’s eyes are stormy when they meet yours - strained and serious as he weighs up your response. “Neither were we.”

The next breath you take is sharp and jittery, gaze still fixed on his from across the table - and despite the proximity of your bodies, him leaning forward, and you just about doing the same, and the urge you had mere seconds ago to close the gap between you, you couldn’t feel any further apart. 

You see his hands shift in your peripheral, long fingers picking at the label on Ethan’s empty beer bottle before his gaze shifts down - guilty and withdrawn. You can’t look away, though - you need to properly look at him, you need to try and see some lifeline you can cling to, here.

He’d pushed you away back in Michigan. He’s been distant, since - too busy for calls, too avoidant for any attempt at a lengthy text conversation. He’s irritated, now - even if he won’t say as much - you can tell by the heavy set of his jaw, and the way his eyes narrow whenever Ethan is too close.

“What were we, then?” You ask before you can think better of it, before some internal part of you convinces yourself that his answer will only serve to hurt you. You’re not going to get anywhere by holding back, anymore.

He’d drank from that cup all those months ago back at that party. Never have I ever been in love. He’d looked you in the eyes as his lips pressed to the red plastic, and he’d watched and waited for you to respond. 

And everything that happened after that will never erase the memory of that heated look in his eyes - piercing straight through the flames in the middle of your circle of friends, burning into the very depths of your being and warming you just enough for the months that followed. 

All the talk about being only friends, of getting any other feelings out of your systems one last time and pretending to rinse them away - it was that night out in the yard of the hockey house that kept things alive, you think.

Knowing that somewhere down the line, despite everything you put each other through - despite the insecurity, and the jealousy, and the pain - he loved you, and he might possibly be the only guy who ever has. The only guy you ever want to.

“Friends,” He frowns as he continues to pick at the sticky paper, tearing the corner until it starts to peel, briefly glancing up to meet your eye as he asks, “That’s all we’ll ever be, right?”

You gulp, your own gaze dropping to the surface between you, eyes tracing the rings of condensation on the table left behind from the chilled bottles. 

“I don’t know if I’m good at being friends,” comes out somewhat instinctively, your brows furrowing as the circles your eyes were mapping seem to hypnotise you into unprompted vulnerability. “I’m having a hard time moving past what happened last summer, I think,” you admit, a rattling breath following, hesitant to do so but needing to get it out, to make him understand that none of this is easy for you - letting him go and moving on isn’t some minor thing he can simply suggest to make things better. It’s not possible. “I feel like it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m with you, like I can’t let it go.”

Spilling secrets by the fountain at the country club, kissing in his car when he’d pick you up from work, pulling over on some deserted side road where no one could see, splashing at him in the lake, the sun rays bouncing off the water and bringing out the sea-glass shade of his irises. Trying on stupid disguises in the thrift store at the mall together, his hands on your waist as you danced together at his cousin’s wedding, defending you to his brother whenever Jack tried to pick some stupid fight with you.

It all plays like flashes from a movie at every given opportunity - the second you give your mind a chance to wander, it travels straight back to those weeks spent in his company, to a time where you’d shared a connection so intense that it permanently altered some deep, previously untouchable part of you. 

“I thought that I could just push it down,” you sniffle, “I thought that being friends might help me forget, but I can’t, it just feels harder.”

He mutters your name, softer and quieter than before, but the intention is there to say something as a rebuttal, you can tell by his tone.

You don’t really have much fight left in you, though, not anymore.

“And you were right, back in Ann Arbor, it’s not fair to you.”

“That’s not what I meant-,”

“It is,” you resign, “I don’t know how to be your friend, I don’t know what I want anymore, and I can’t keep pretending and making everything worse for you when it would just be easier if we,”

“If we what?”

“Stopped.” You croak, every muscle in your throat working to resist the words from actually working their way up and coming out. “Whatever it is that we’re trying to be, or trying not to be. So that you can move on, like you want.”

You chance a quick glance up, vision blurred by a thick wall of tears, and meet his startled gaze.

“Is that what you want?” His voice shakes a little as he asks, breathy and reluctant - like he’s bracing himself for your own response to hurt.

It doesn’t really matter what you want, you think. You’ve long lost any right to fight for it - not when it comes to him. You had your chance in summer, to open up about all the things you were starting to feel, and you chose to push them down. You don’t even know why, anymore.

You really thought there would be something left to salvage of your relationship with Luke - something to cling to so that he couldn’t push you away, something that got the two of you back on track, especially after talking to his brother, last night - but now that you’re here, everything just feels wrong. It all feels like a stab in the dark, like you’re no longer familiar with the boundaries of what is or isn’t okay with him, and that leaves you feeling lost, again. Like even the slightest attempt to bridge the gap is one giant wasted effort.

And you know all too well where this feeling gets you - too afraid to put your heart on the line, you hide it away, lock it up and throw away the key so that no one can even attempt to get to it again. 

He doesn’t want to hang out one-on-one, away from the safety of using Ellie and Jack as a buffer. He doesn’t want to watch movies like you used to, or talk on the phone, or even be within 5 feet of you, it seems. He’s annoyed that you’re close to his other friends, he’s annoyed that you’re around at all, you think.

He doesn’t want you anymore - he shuts down every thought of being anything more, and he can talk all he wants about blurring lines and still being friends, but you know how this plays out. 

He wants to move on, he’s said so too many times now for you to discount it or try and find a work around. And when he moves on, and he finds some other girl, like Yasmin, or even Victoria, who doesn’t push him away, or make his life hard, or knows how to express her feelings without saying or doing the wrong thing, he’ll have no use for you. 

His brothers will like her, and he’ll show her off to his teammates, and their relationship will expand beyond a phone screen and the distant, foggy memory of something more. And it will be easy.

And he deserves that.

He deserves so much more than you’ve ever been able to give him. Maybe if you saw that sooner this whole thing wouldn’t be such a mess. Maybe if you’d been more accepting of your blossoming feelings in the summer, and you hadn’t been so insistent on maintaining control, everything wouldn’t have spiralled so far out of reach. 

Ellie might have seen your interest, Cole might have turned his attentions elsewhere, and Luke would never have said those things about you to try and deter him. And then these last few months would have been easier, too. Your walls would have long been knocked down, your defences weakened, and you’d have just let him in like you’ve always wanted to.

And Luke wouldn’t have gotten tired of trying, just like you predicted all those months ago.

“I think your brother was right, the other day, about the movie, and people being hard work. I want you be happy, Luke, and you said it yourself, I can’t make you wait around for me to figure shit out, you have enough going on without me making you feel like this.”

You feel a shift when you look at him again, a slump of his shoulders as he leans back into the booth - something like resigned acceptance - and you can’t help but be reminded of the exchange that started this whole ordeal.

Him on the other side of a booth in the restaurant at the country club, a hopeful gleam in his earthy irises and his chest puffed out in what you remember thinking seemed like a facade of arrogance, with something much gentler beneath the surface. Things had been much lighter then. Playful and easy. And you don’t think it’s been like that for a long time.

You did that, you think.

You sank into the dark, murky waters of your own insecurities and you dragged him straight down with you - and now it’s time to set him free.

The silence that follows your words is awkward, maybe for the first time ever with him, in a way that makes your skin itch with a prickly heat. You had been so intent on speaking to him, before, and now all you want to do is leave so that he can’t stretch this out, or leave so you don’t have to sit here and watch him not even try. You want to run. Scream. Cry, even. Do anything but wait around for him to agree.

“I’m sorry,” comes out croaky, and broken, and you blink out the tears that blur your vision, feeling them run their course the whole way down your cheeks until you swipe them away from your jaw.

“Me too.” 

You want to tell him he doesn’t have anything to apologise for. You want to tell him that you’re the problem, and that you shouldn’t have led him on for as long as you did - but you don’t really want to keep going in circles with this conversation.

You just want to go.

And you couldn’t be more thankful when Ethan comes back, oblivious to the tension between you and his best friend, pushing another bottle across the table and sliding into the opposite side of the booth, right next to Luke.

“So, Lukey, are you gonna let us in on all your favourite spots around here for when we’re both back in the fall?” He slings an arm over the back of the booth, falling naturally above Luke’s slumped figure, and you straighten up in your own seat.

“I’m gonna go find Ellie,” you say, shuffling out from your own side, smiling meekly when Ethan frowns at you, not even daring to look Luke’s way. “I’ll leave you two to it.”

And then you walk away, because that’s all that’s left to do - and when you find Ellie, she takes one look at you, and she knows.

Eyes welling with tears, lips trembling - a mirror image of the girl she found back in your shared room that afternoon of her party, back in the summer - and she ushers you out of the bar and holds your hand the whole way back to your rental, your head on her shoulder as you try not to sob in the back of a taxi. 

For all the times people in his life have called him an idiot, Luke has never felt as stupid as he feels right now.

Watching your teary eyes from across the table, able to do nothing but stare back at them, speechless and spineless as you finally throw in the towel, as you finally admit what you’ve been holding back this entire time.

That you can’t move past what happened in summer.

That this whole time, you’ve been trying to distract yourself from how much he hurt you, how much he fucked up, and all he’s ended up doing is hurting you again. 

I feel like it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m with you, you had said, like I can’t let it go.

Like he can never take back all the stupid shit he said to Cole when he was jealous and immature - like he still can’t handle those sort of emotions when he’s around you, and he lashes out when you don’t even deserve it, all because he can’t handle seeing you with anybody else. 

He doesn’t even know why he came at you so quick.

All he remembers is seeing a photo on an instagram story of the guys at the bar, of seeing you and Ellie crouched in the front, carefree, giant grins etched into your faces, and all of a sudden he was walking in.

And you were smiling so sweet, your nose scrunching up and your body shaking with laughter as you sat beside Ethan, absolutely no space between you in the booth, and he had felt something ugly consume him before he even had a chance to realise what was happening.

And now you’re gone, and his heart is pounding in his chest, and the sound of your soft voice uttering one final apology is echoing around his head.

“Are you okay?” Ethan asks from beside him, leaning forward until he appears out the corner of his eye, and Luke shakes himself out of the trance you put him under. 

He mutters your name, and Ethan’s head tilts in confusion until Luke asks, “Are you into her?”

“Into her?” Ethan’s eyes widen in alarm as he almost chokes on a sip of his beer. “Why would you ask me that?”

“I don’t know,” he shrugs, a pathetic attempt at nonchalance that he can tell doesn’t land as soon as he does it, “You looked close when I came in, and she said you went to the movies together the other week. Got food after, sounded like a date to me.”

“Interesting observation,” he scoffs, “Considering all you two do together is watch movies and eat.”

Luke frowns, especially when he looks over properly, and Ethan is smirking at him. He feels like he could throw up. “She’s my friend,” he says, although he supposes that’s not really true, anymore, but he’s sick of having to explain it to everybody. “I’ve told you like a million times.”

“Mine too,” he snickers, and Luke can feel his blood start to boil a little at the implication that your relationship with Ethan might at all be similar to your relationship with him. “She’s a cool girl.”

“Yeah,” Luke agrees, a nauseating sense of deja vu washing over him, soaking him to the bone in remorse.

She’s a really cool girl, Cole had said, back toward the end of summer, really funny.

He feels the same swirls of panic stirring in his chest, a stutter to his heart rate that has him holding his breath to try and correct it, somehow. 

“We’ve just been hanging out a little more the last few weeks, ever since I took her home,” and the mention of that night back in Michigan makes him feel worse - that swirling feeling evolving into something sinister, catastrophic, even. He’d upset you and you’d turned to Ethan for comfort - you’ve continued to turn to him, since. And Luke had really left you no choice but to do so, so upset at the thought of the two of you together that he shut you out, entirely. “I guess we got closer throughout this year, but it’s mostly been in a group, like at parties or whatever. She’s a lot different to how I thought she’d be, especially when it’s just her, we get along.”

“Yeah,” Luke breathes, monotonous and slow, because he can’t really muster much else.

He could probably cry, if he thinks too hard about it. Could probably break out in a sweat and hyperventilate, and all that’s stopping him is the nails digging into his palm to keep him grounded to reality.

He had you, he thinks, back on that porch outside the hockey house, and he let his own fragile ego get in the way, once again. Just like back in the summer, when he had you, and let this panic and jealousy consume him, turn him into something ugly and cruel, saying things he never meant, or never had any right to divulge.

“I think uhh,” his jaw feels tense as he speaks, like something in him doesn’t want to carry on, but he fights past it, “I think a lot of people have the wrong idea about her.”

“How do you mean?”

“People judge her based on what they think she’s like, but they don’t really get to know her.” He relaxes back into his seat, a little, trying to alleviate the growing tension in his spine. “I’d say she doesn’t really let them, but people don’t try hard enough. It’s like you said, she’s really cool.”

“Funny, too.” Ethan smiles a little, and the look in his eyes brings the essence of tears to Luke’s, almost.

“Really funny,” he agrees, pushing through the way his throat feels like it’s closing up, lips twisting up into some attempt at a smile. “Really quick, not even just telling jokes but like, she can just read every situation as it’s happening. I don’t think I’ve ever had a conversation where she hasn’t made me laugh, even if she’s trying to bite my head off or something or I’m not really in the mood to be laughing.”

Ethan nods along, like he could possibly understand what Luke means - but maybe he can, Luke worries. Maybe that’s what you’ve opened his eyes to, while the two of you have been growing closer this year with him being none-the-wiser to your budding relationship.

“And sure, she’s snappy, but she’s like,” he pauses, a breathy chuckle as he fights the swelling of his chest, now, too, “the most caring person I’ve ever met. You feel it, too, even when she is biting your head off or whatever, she’s doing it because she thinks it’s just as much fun for you as it is for her, and she just wants to keep you hooked. And sure, it takes a while for her to warm up, but when she does it’s like, I don’t even know, man, like her smile,” another pause, and Luke smiles a little more, himself, the upturn of his lips coming so naturally that he can’t tell he’s doing it until his field of vision narrows a little, “She has this smile that’s all slow and cute, and I swear it could thaw ice or something corny like that.”

“She’s got a cute smile,” Ethan agrees, but the way he’s looking at Luke makes him feel a little too seen, and so he straightens back up in his seat before he can sink any further. “Not sure it’s worth losing one of my closest friends over, though.”

“You wouldn’t,” Luke gulps, trying to swallow past the growing lump in his throat at the mere thought of you and Ethan together, a feeling that’s achingly reminiscent of how he felt about you and Cole - sick to his stomach. But this had been the problem before - thinking he has any sort of say over how you move forward with anyone that isn’t him. “I just want her to be happy, I know you’d look after her.”

He’d told you to move on. He’d told you he couldn’t wait around for you to figure things out. He’d shut you out, forced you to close yourself off to him, accused you of only wanting him when you think you’re losing him to someone else - and here he is, falling apart from the inside out, once again, at the mere thought of you with anybody else.

He’s a hypocrite, and he hates himself for it - he’s going to lose you because of it. Maybe he already has.

“You’re an idiot,” Ethan scoffs, mouth curving up at one side in amusement. “You’re seriously gonna sit there and say you want me to ask her out? You want me to date the girl you’re very clearly in love with because at least I’d look after her?”

“C’mon, E-,”

“Like she needs looking after?” Ethan’s dark eyes narrow as he levels Luke with an incredulous glare. “You know if she heard you, she’d beat your ass, right? Trying to auction her off like some sort of prize, are you insane? I swear to God, the two of you are borderline painful, you’re as bad as each other.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?”

“I honestly thought you were both just being oblivious, or something, but it’s like you’re actively trying to sabotage yourselves, you need to talk to each other, you need to tell each other how you feel.”

“I know that you slept with her,” Luke blurts out, eyes wide as Ethan’s face curls up in horror, “I saw you come out of the house with her the morning after the party,”

“Whoa-,”

“And it’s fine. Not that either of you need my permission,” Luke scoffs, “But I’m not blind, E, she was with you the night Jack got injured, too, she was smiling at you tonight like she hasn’t smiled at me in forever, I just want her to be happy, and if that’s not with me-,”

“I slept with Megan,” Ethan interrupts, “The night of that party, I dropped her off like you asked, I went back to the house, and I hit up Megan because we were hooking up for a while before she got all crazy on me. You remember her, right? The girl with the tattoo of her cat?”

“You were hooking up with a girl who had a tattoo of her cat?” Luke frowns, distracted momentarily until he realises what’s happening.

“She’s in the same sorority,” Ethan scoffs, “What you saw was her sneaking me out of the house because I got stuck upstairs and Megan wouldn’t help me.”

“But the movie, and the pinball,” Luke fades a little, brows furrowing as he tries to piece together whatever the hell he’s managed to fabricate between you and Ethen this entire time - weeks of avoiding you for nothing.

“We just bumped into each other at the IMAX, she seemed a little down, so we hung out after. Like friends do. Like you’d probably know, if you talked to her. You really thought that either of us would do that to you? That girl is crazy about you, Luke, she pretty much cried the whole walk home because you didn’t tell her you liked her.”

“She what?”

“Kept asking me if you’d said anything about being into anyone, she was being all cryptic and weird, I tried to imply you were into her, but clearly it didn’t help.”

“No, no, no,” he shakes his head, muttering repeatedly as he remembers that night, remembers what Quinn had tried to tell him, remembers everything from the past 6 months, all at once. He runs two shaky hands through his hair, trying to squeeze at his skull to stop the influx of regret that’s starting to vibrate in there, incessant and relentless, like it will never go away. “I need to go after her.”

Luke pushes gently at his best friend, frowning when he doesn’t budge. 

“E, I need to apologise to her, I need to talk to her,”

“Tomorrow.” Ethan advises, “Her and Ellie knocked back like a whole margarita pitcher together, you don’t want to do this when she isn’t in the right state of mind.”

Wrong.

He wants to do it as soon as he physically can.

And he’ll do it on the hour every hour until you’re sober, he thinks. 

“Trust me,” Ethan pats at Luke’s leg, a brotherly gesture that does little to calm his nerves. “Take tonight to think about what you want to say, and say it tomorrow.”

Luke hates that he’s right - just like Quinn had been right all those weeks ago.

He can’t do this out of impulse.

He needs to do it right.

When Ellie knocks on your bedroom door the next morning, she’s merely a fuzzy blur through your puffy eyes, and you can barely muster a smile as she walks in with a cup of green tea and a slice of toast for you.

“Thanks, El,” you croak, voice thick with sleep, and maybe dry from the salty rim of the many cups you drank from last night - or the way you cried for maybe an hour until you eventually drifted off.

Ellie had been your literal shoulder to cry on when you got home, letting you sob and finally release months worth of pent-up frustrations as she listened, taking it all in while she stroked a gentle hand through your hair.

You told her everything - about halloween, and christmas, watching movies over FaceTime and spiralling over them alone in your room after he hung up. You told her about texts that made your knees go weak, and calls that lasted until the early hours of the morning, and sleeping in Luke’s arms when you finally saw him in person. You told her about the gifts, and opening up to Luke about your family, and kissing him on the porch back at the hockey house.

Then you told her about the aftermath. About distancing yourself from him to let him move on, about him distancing himself from you because you’re too much of a mess for him to make sense of, and then about that conversation in the bar - about finally letting him go.

She just let you air it all out until it exhausted you - tucked you into your bed where you sobbed into your pillow for a little longer, and promised to talk more in the morning.

And you suppose that’s what this is - breakfast in bed, a soft smile sent your way as she lowers the tray onto the sheets in front of you, muttering a short, you’re welcome, as she perches herself on the end of the bed.

The two of you make a little small talk as she watches you eat, concern in her eyes and hesitance in her posture, and you figure you must have freaked her out a little too much last night - probably still freaking her out, now your face still swollen from all the crying.

“I’m sorry about last night, El,” you sigh once you’ve swallowed your last bite of toast, pushing the plate away. “I feel like such an idiot, you get a free pass to say I told you so, or whatever.”

“I wouldn’t do that,” her lips twist, unsure and uncomfortable, as she shuffles against the footboard. “It wouldn’t be right after what I did.”

“What you did?” You frown, “What do you mean?”

“Please don’t be mad at me,” Ellie shrinks away a little, face scrunching in anticipation of some poor reaction, and all you can hear is the persistent thudding of your heartbeat - still reeling from last night, a little. “I was just trying to help.”

“Help with what?” You blink slow as you watch her, eyes drawn to the way her lips twist and turn, tugged between her teeth as she tries to work through whatever it is she wants to tell you.

“It was sort of Jack’s idea, initially,” she starts, “I mean, I guess I took it a little too far, but he’s the one who brought it up-,”

“Ellie-,” you warn, the anticipation of it all only making things worse.

“He thought if the two of you felt like you were losing each other to somebody else, you’d realise you actually wanted to be together, and you’d stop forcing the whole friend thing and make the next move.”

“I don’t understand-,”

“He said he tried doing the same thing last summer, when he was being an idiot about asking me out. He took some girl from the club on a date, picked someone that he knew you’d find out about, but I guess you never did, ‘cause you’d have told me about it and I’d still have a dent in my head from where it would have hit the roof.” The nervous chuckle she gives does very little to lighten the mood.

“Right,” you nod along, muttering out the affirmation despite the fact that you’d done the complete opposite. 

You never told her about Jack and Jessica, the girl from the club last summer - who you and Luke had spied on in the earlier days of your scheming. It was for her own good, though. You didn’t want to hurt her over something that clearly wasn’t worth her time. Jack was being an idiot, that much was obvious at the time - even without the context you now have that he was trying to get caught - and so you feel less bad about lying about the whole thing.

Although, your eye starts to twitch a little at just how ridiculous this whole thing has started to become.

“So he pushed Luke to date this Yasmin girl for the same reason?”

“Not exactly,” Ellie winces, “I think he tried to get him out of the house one time just to test the waters, but nothing ever came of it. And then Jack got busy with the tournament, and Luke came out to Michigan, and I felt like I had to take the reins a little.”

“Take the reins on what?”

Your tone must unintentionally reflect just how tired you are of this whole thing, because Ellie cowers a little, eyes glassy as she skirts around what it is that she wants to say.

“I need you to understand that I felt really bad about the whole Cole thing, okay?” She says, “And then ever since summer, you haven’t really been yourself, you know? Like you don’t wanna come out anymore, and you’re letting school get to you, and you don’t talk to me about stuff, even when I know that it’s bothering you,”

You look down, your own lips pressing together to try and ease the tension elsewhere in your jaw. 

You have been a little more reserved, but it’s not entirely because of how your summer ended. And it’s not like you weren’t coping, entirely - you just weren’t running to Ellie like you normally might have. 

Maybe it was unintentional, the way you had shut her out, even since the start of summer, but that doesn’t mean it would have affected her any less. Guilt starts to nip away at you from the inside out, her meek response heightened when you lifted your gaze back to watch her. 

“And I just thought maybe you needed someone to look out for you, to give you a little nudge in the right direction, I didn’t realise it would have made things worse.”

A nudge - just like the kind of nudge you and Luke were supposed to be giving her and Jack last year. 

You’re starting to get a headache with it all, the way you seem to have come full circle in the worst possible way - where the universe throws you Ellie and Jack of all people to try and gain some semblance of order to your life.

It’s tragic.

“What are you even saying?”

“There is no Yasmin,” she blurts out, “I made her up.”

You blink slow, feeling as your face slowly contorts with confusion - lips turning down, brows scrunching together, little creases forming in the side of your nose. “No,” you mumble, shaking your head as she stares, wide-eyed and panicked, back at you. “I saw her instagram. He liked her pictures.” 

“I’d imagine that was just some random girl he follows,” she shakes her head with a grimace, “Dumbass likes every post he sees on his feed, I think.”

You gape back at her, your eyes widened in shock and your heart racing in your chest, because what the fuck?

You’ve been pushing him away this whole time to move onto a girl who doesn’t even exist?

“And I know I should have told you sooner, but I got swept up with all of the Jack stuff, and I,” her lips tremble as she stares back at you, apologetic and regretful. “I didn’t realise how bad it got between the two of you. I didn’t know it would end up like this, I was just trying to make things better again.”

You stare down at the empty plate at the bottom of your bed, and all of a sudden you can feel every swallowed bite swirling around in the pit of your stomach. “I feel sick.” You slur out, pushing yourself up off the bed and stumbling towards the bathroom, slamming the door behind you as you fall down against it, and you can hear the soft patter of feet as Ellie follows behind.

“I’m sorry,” she cries through the wood, “I know that I should have known better than to interfere, but I just-,” she hiccups then, and you resent just how much it affects you, guilt and shame swirling around with the nausea. “I wanted my best friend back. You haven’t been the same since summer.”

And you sob, yourself, because you know that’s true.

You’d admitted it to Luke, last night, when you had told him you didn’t think you could ever get over it.

And now you’ve lost him.

You can’t even blame Ellie, either.

She had planted the seed, but you’d been the one to water it - constantly avoiding having to have a difficult conversation with him until everything boiled over, until it was too late.

You could have talked to him at the party, the night you kissed him. You could have told him there and then that you loved him, because you knew it as sure as anything, but you didn’t. You could have told him at any point since then, and you never did. Because you were scared, and insecure, and weak.

Ellie calls your name from inches behind you, soft and shaky, and the thought of ruining everything with her too is too much for you to handle. 

You need to get out of the bathroom, need to get out of the house, need to get away period. 

You just need space, and you know exactly where you’re going to find it.

Luke has never been more thankful for a day off in his life.

And he’s never been more proactive in one, either.

One of the biggest joys usually comes from turning off his alarm the night before. No morning skate, no practice, no training, no meetings, no game to prep for.

There’s just you, across town, thinking he doesn’t care enough about you to stop you giving everything the two of you have up.

So his alarm had stayed on, shrilling beside his head at 7am, and he shoots right out of bed, not even putting it on snooze for four times before he gets himself up.

He makes breakfast, eggs and avocados on toast, brain food as his mom might say, and starts to think about what he’s going to say to you - making notes on his phone like it’s some dumb presentation - until he feels satisfied that there’s enough of his heart in it to actually make an impact.

He’s done letting his emotions control him.

The two of you are going to figure this out, and it’s going to work out - he’s sure of it. He has to be. 

And just as he’s about to leave, Jack appears from his room, also dressed and ready to face the day, quirking his brow at the abnormal pep in his little brother’s step.

“What the hell’s got you so jumpy this early in the morning?” He asks.

“If I tell you, I don’t want to hear a lecture about it.” Luke huffs, because this is the last parade he would ever let his brother rain on, and he’s kind of worked himself up to the point of delusion. Jack just nods in response, and Luke can’t help the giddy smile that breaks out right before he says, “I gotta go see about a girl.”

Jack’s eyes widen, and Luke feels like he’s been punched in the gut when his lips quirk up, preparing himself for the blow of being laughed at by his own brother.

But what Jack says, instead, is even weirder.

“Let’s go then.”

And Luke practically stumbles over himself to get the two of them to his car, the weight of his brother’s approval pushing him further than he ever wanted to admit that it could, his entire body buzzing as he drives them over to the rental you and Ellie are staying in, and he tells Jack about his plan on the way.

He tells him how he’s gonna get you out of the house, gonna take you on a walk, somewhere, where the two of you can finally talk things out, and he’s gonna tell you how he feels. He’s gonna let you speak, gonna give you the time you need to figure things out - he’s gonna lay his heart on the line, and he’s gonna be a man and let you decide whatever it is you want to do with it.

You say you can’t get over the summer, but you don’t understand how much he regrets it, how much he loves you, how he’d never hurt you like that again. And if you turn around, and you don’t feel the same, then he can do whatever you want, but at least he’ll know he tried - at least you’ll know what you mean to him.

Jack gives him pointers, like he’s ever gonna take love advice from a guy who took like 3 years to ask his girlfriend out, but Luke just nods along with a smile on his face, too in his head with the hope that this could finally be it.

And that hope carries him all the way from one side of Jersey City to the other, airy and light, until he’s knocking on your door and waiting for you to finally open up for him - and all of it drains from him the second he sees Ellie’s teary fave on the other side. He’s too confused by the situation to notice when Jack brushes past him to comfort her, and he finds himself looking around for you again, that light, airy feeling growing heavier by the second.

“Calm down,” he hears Jack coo, “It’s alright, what happened?”

“We got into a fight,” she sniffles, “Or I don’t know, a disagreement, I guess. I was gonna give her a little room to breathe, so I went to my room, and then she left, and she’s not picking up her phone.”

Luke feels the colour drain from his face, a dizzying wash of panic flooding his system that causes his chest to swell. He reaches for his phone before he even realises what he’s doing, fingers knowing the way straight to your contact and pressing on it within seconds, the call reaching voicemail before he even lifts the device to his ear.

“It must be off,” he frowns, the swelling worsening with every second that passes. “She just left? She didn’t say where she was going?”

“She was pretty upset,” Ellie tells him, tears welling in her eyes as her face twists with guilt, “I really, uhm,” she runs a hand through her hair as she turns away from him, taking a few pacing steps to distance herself, “I really fucked things up, I think.”

“Fucked what up?” Luke asks, following by instinct to close the gap, trying to get her to look at him just to get a read on the severity of the situation. He’s witnessed a couple of your arguments with Ellie - mostly minor irritations that you come to him to talk you through, and it’s never been bad enough for you to get seriously upset over it. Not like this. And Luke has known Ellie for a long time, too - had seen all the ups and downs of her relationship with Jack before they ever got together. He’s never seen her like this, and dread pools in the pit of his stomach. “What happened?”

“I uh,” she takes in a trembling breath, staggered and shaky and doing little to make him feel any better as he hears it. “I thought I was helping. I thought she just needed a push, or something, like someone to guide her-,”

Luke can’t imagine a world where you would need guidance on anything. Headstrong and self-assured, he can’t picture what on Earth would make Ellie assume you would need her to push you.

“I swear, I thought I was doing the right thing. I wouldn’t have gotten involved, especially after summer, you know, I felt really bad, and I just wanted to try and fix it somehow, but she never tells me anything, so I didn’t realise she was kind of getting there on her own and I think I just made everything worse.”

The mention of summer makes him wince, Ellie’s words all merging together into one long, confusing blur of excuses that don’t quite make sense, but this has to be about him, somehow, he thinks - because you would have told him about anything else happening in your life, something else that might have happened in the summer. 

Ellie felt bad about the whole Cole thing - that much seems obvious. Lending her efforts to him asking you out, being the catalyst to the whole thing blowing apart from the inside, out. But how could she ever possibly fix that? Especially considering he was the master of his own downfall, in the end.

“What did you do?”

When Ellie’s eyes meet his, they’re flooded with remorse, round and watery and it does little to quell the panic continuing to rise within him.

“I told her you were seeing somebody else.”

Luke feels time stop, his heart coming to a screeching halt, and all thoughts wiped from his brain until all he can hear is your voice, soft and small and vulnerable as you tell him, “I don’t want to watch you move on.”

“I just thought she needed a wake up call, or something, like if she thought that there was the potential that you were moving on she might have finally realised that holding back this whole time was doing more harm than good, but I don’t know what happened, she just shut down, after-,”

“After what?” Luke asks, although he doesn’t know why, he’s pretty sure he knows the answer to both questions he poses Ellie’s way. “When did you tell her that?”

“Before the party back in Michigan,” she gulps, “Before you left.”

Luke stumbles back a little, hands finding purchase on the back of the couch, needing something to steady him, to ground him before he spirals out of control. 

“Jack told me that he’d been trying to get you to move on, that he took you out with the guys, that you were just flat out rejecting the idea of even speaking to somebody else, and I just thought-,”

“You knew about this?”

“No,” Ellie is quick to defend him, quick to take responsibility, for once, “Well, sort of, but he told me not to do it, and I didn’t tell him that I did, so he’s not to blame, here. I thought if I just said that you were moving on then she wouldn’t have believed me, so I made somebody up, but I guess you’re following some girl with the same name on instagram, and you liked a couple of her pictures, and last night she kept saying that you don’t want her anymore, that all she can think about is how much she loved you back then, but you don’t feel the same,”

I’m having a hard time moving past what happened last summer, I think

He thought you meant the Cole thing. He thought you meant you couldn’t look past his mistake. 

I feel like it’s always in the back of my mind when I’m with you, like I can’t let it go.

You weren’t talking about the bad stuff.

You were talking about the rest of it.

And now all Luke can hear in his head is little snippets of conversations from the past few weeks. I want to, which he now sees as an admission of your feelings when he had asked you to let him in. Are you moving on? After he had turned you down for that art installation, wedging an insurmountable gap between the two of you while you assumed he was seeing some other girl. He’s hard work and she isn’t cut out for it, and the way you so quickly gave up when it came to Jack’s stupid outburst.

All of that had been with idea of him already having moved on. 

All of that, and you still refused to do so, yourself.

Oh no.

“I was just trying to help, Luke, I swear, I just wanted to help her. She just lets things pass her all the time, for as long as I’ve known her, she gets all in her head, and she doesn’t let people in, and she was doing the same with you, and I just wanted her to take something for herself, I wanted her to win, I didn’t realise it would become this huge mess-,”

“Stop,” he huffs, because he can’t let her blame herself, not entirely - he made a mess of this, too. He’d jumped to conclusions, after the kiss. He hadn’t let you speak, hadn’t let you come to terms with what you were feeling. He’d misunderstood your intentions and jumped down your throat, and let his own hurt in the situation stomp all over yours. He hadn’t talked to you, despite all the times he had been urged to. 

“Where would she go?” He asks, trying to shake himself into action. “Does she have any other friends around here, did she mention anywhere to you that she might escape to?”

“No,” Ellie whines, “She only came here for the first time in October, the only places we mentioned were lunch spots, I don’t think she ran off in tears for a bagel. The only person I could think of was you, but you’re here.”

Luke wracks his brain through the last few conversations the two of you had - and all he hears is the multiple opportunities he had to clear everything up. The multiple attempts you made to bring things back to normal - to bridge the gap he had forced between the two of you.

Movie nights, coffee shops, the game the other night, the art installation.

The art installation.

“Did she bring her laptop?”

You can’t really pinpoint where your obsession with space started.

It’s probably somewhere between laying awake at night, staring at the glow-in-the-dark stars your dad had stuck to your ceiling, and a field trip to the Henry Crown Space Center - and the two memories are probably a lot more linked than you care to think about, both providing distractions when you needed them the most in life, but you’ve never experienced anything like this.

You’d found out about this exhibit on TikTok of all places, putting the you in for you page to work when you first started seeing it on your feed, saving every video that came up. Destination Cosmos originated in Amsterdam from what you could find, and you’ve wanted to go for years. It feels like fate, almost, that it would be in New York for one week only while you’re just across the river for spring break, and missing out on it would have been your biggest regret since coming out here - which considering the events you’re actively trying to escape from, is probably saying a lot. 

Maybe if you’d have sold it a little better to Luke than just being an art installation, he might have come with you. Maybe if you’d done a lot of things differently, he might have come with you.

As you stand in the centre of the universe, projections of everything you’ve spent your whole life admiring only from afar, chasing something you still don’t understand, you feel smaller than you’ve ever felt in your life.

It’s overwhelming, almost, how lost you feel now.

On your own, in the middle of an exhibit you’ve been dreaming about for years, in a city you don’t really know, but are going to be moving to before you know it, with all other aspects of your life imploding in calamitous fashion around you. The way the images flash across the walls - stars, planets, nebulae, supernovae - make you feel like you barely even exist, and you hate it. 

You’ve never felt so alone, so afraid of what comes next, and all you want is for someone to reach out and shake you until you don’t feel it anymore.

And when somebody actually does, when the soft but familiar mutter of your name brings you out of your reverie, and a gentle grip forms around your wrist, you gasp, yanking your hand away like the touch burns.

You have to be dreaming, you think.

There’s no way you haven’t slipped into some sort of coma, or something.

Maybe you missed a low ceiling somewhere on your way into the exhibit, hit your head and knocked yourself out.

Because there’s no other explanation for how Luke Hughes could possibly be standing before you, in front of the most beautiful backdrop of glistening constellations, other than you imagining the whole thing.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, taking in his frantic form - chest heaving with rushed breaths and his baseball cap askew, probably from where he keeps taking it off to run his hands through his hair. 

“I uh-,” he pants, blinking slow as if you’re just about coming into focus. “I came to see about a girl.”

You blink back, brows pushing together as he takes another step, “What?”

“Good Will Hunting,” he clarifies, “Declarations of love, I know you hate them but I uhm-,” he frowns, cringes, even, like he’s thinking better of doing this already, and you wait with bated breath for him to string his thoughts together. “I’m doing this wrong, I think.”

“Luke-,”

“I was trying to think the whole way here of some sort of speech, like one giant combination of all the soppy, cheesy movie quotes you love so much. Y’know, like, uhh,” his bottom lip juts out as he takes a second, and all you can do is watch, “Like a megamix or something.”

“A megamix?”

“Yeah, like a little How To Lose A Guy In 10 Days, a pinch of Notting Hill, just this huge shit show of the corniest garbage you’ve ever heard in your life.”

“Sounds great.” You frown, a little lost on how he went from declarations of love to corny garbage in a matter of seconds. 

“Probably would be,” he nods as he takes another step, and you fight the urge to retreat, your feet staying firmly in place and your arms wrapping around yourself in some twisted protective stance. “But all I can think about is that one scene in When Harry Met Sally, y’know, when she’s all frizzy and crying on her bed, and he’s there to comfort her?”

“I don’t really remember,” you mutter, although you have a vague recollection. “I only watched it that one time and I was a little distracted.”

“I watched it 8 times.” He tells you, “Could probably talk you through the whole thing.”

“You don’t have to-,”

“So Sally’s just found out her ex is engaged,” he starts, anyway, and you don’t even have time to question why the hell he watched that movie 8 times. Once was enough to scar you for life. “And she’s like sobbing to Harry, and saying all these things about how she was just a transitional person, and she thinks something’s the matter with her, ‘cause her ex never wanted to marry her.”

“Where are you going with this?”

“She says, I’m difficult,” he mimics her voice, somewhat, a soft smile curving at his lips as he recalls the scene, “And Harry tells her, you’re challenging, and every time I watch it, I think of you.”

Ouch.

He must see the way your face drops, because he takes another step, and the distance between the two of you is so small now that you could conceivably touch without reaching - if he stopped making out like you’re a problem, that is. 

“‘Cause that’s when they kiss, right?” He asks, and you nod, hesitantly, because you sort of remember it a little better, now. “That’s when he realises how deep he’s into this thing with her, and how right he was that they could never be friends.”

“I guess so,” you pout, your chest clenching at the mere mention of your friendship - the one you had denounced only a day ago, and are still very freshly mourning the loss of. 

“And then I think about the other night, about what Jack said.”

You’ve already gone through this whole thing with Jack, you really don’t want to do it, again. Not here, not now, especially. “Luke-,”

“He shouldn’t have said any of that stuff to you, and he was being a world class dick, but he was sort of right,” he tells you, a crooked smile cementing itself into his features as he reaches out to tuck your hair behind your ear as it falls forward, leaving you to watch in confused silence as amusement flashes across his irises, despite the fact that it’s not remotely funny. “You are hard work.”

“Did you seriously come all the way out here and hunt me down just to tell me that?” You scoff, something within you switching as you unfold your arms and reach up to push his hand away. “That all I do is make your life hard, you don’t think I already know that?”

He grabs yours, instead, intertwining your fingers despite your resistance, and smiling even deeper. “When did I ever say I want things to be easy?” He challenges, his other hand rising to the opposite side of your face, cupping at your jaw and lifting your face until your eyes meet, “I love that you’re hard work.” And just as you scoff, just as you try to argue such a ridiculous statement, he continues. “It makes being with you and you letting me in all the more rewarding, like I earned it. I’d like to think that I did, too. I’d like to think we’ve come really far from where we started.”

You gulp down the urge to tell him you agree, still a little confused by this whole speech, where one second he’s comparing you to a sobbing emotional wreck, and the next he’s suggesting you’re sort of a nightmare. Still confused by how he found you in the first place, but it feels too late to ask, now.

“Ellie told me about Yasmin,” he says, and you swear the way your heart skips a beat is wishful thinking, your mind praying that the ground will just swallow you up. You were embarrassed enough without him knowing about it, too - that you got all in your feelings about some girl that never even existed, enough to end up ruining everything with him over what turned out to be nothing. “And Ethan told me about Michigan, about how you were upset that I didn’t tell you how I felt.”

What? You’d been upset he hadn’t told you about Yasmin, who you now know doesn’t exist, not-

Oh, Jesus Christ, you think, too embarrassed to even react. Ethan had been talking about you. 

Anybody could see from a mile off that he is into somebody.

“It doesn’t even matter-,”

“Don’t do that,” he pleads, desperation flashing across his eyes, stunning you a little into submission. “Please don’t do that, not about this.”

“Luke-,”

“I love you.” He says, voice sure and steady, a little louder than he’d been speaking before but you can’t really find it in yourself to care. “I’m in love with you. I don’t think I’ll ever not be in love with you. And there’s no Yasmin, there’s no Victoria, there is nobody else and there never will be. That’s what I came all the way out here to say.”

That’s a little better than whatever the hell he was saying about a megamix, you think. 

“That there’s only you.” He’s still sure, but quieter now, like a whisper that’s only meant for you to hear. “That I love you, and it matters.”

He’s giving you this heated look, like he can see every single cell of you - like he loves every single cell of you - eyes dark and intense, and you can’t look away, too entranced by whatever hold he now has over you - barely able to even form a cognitive thought, let alone voice one.

“I love that you’re weirdly nerdy about space,” he maintains a hold on your cheek, his touch soft but his presence solid, and uses his other hand to gesture around you, to the spectacle around you - to the vibrant projections of planets on walls that seem to extend light years right around of the two of you. “And that of all the places in New York you’d even want to go during your last spring break, this was the only place on your list. And despite that, somehow I’m the dorky loser out of the two of us.”

You feel your lips quirk up, still gazing up into his eyes, your own wide and watering as you watch him continue.

“I love that you never mind spending time with me, even if it’s just watching movies, or watching hockey, or eating, and you always know what food I like, even though you complain that I eat more than any human should. I love that I never feel too much for you, or too little, or too loud, or like I’m not saying enough. You call me an idiot all the time, sure, but you never make me feel like one.”

Everything around you turns into a blur, now, beyond trying to blink away your tears as they slowly start to trickle from your lower lashes, Luke’s thumb coming to swipe at your lip when one settles there, offering a soft smile that makes your heart melt in place - this warm, sticky sensation spreading between your ribs.

“And I love the way you look at me,” his voice is so soft that it makes you feel boneless, and you think if he didn’t have a hold on your face you might just dissolve into nothing, “Sometimes I feel like you’re the only person who actually sees me.”

You love that about him too, you think - the first tangible thought you can muster as he does his best to turn you into complete mush in the palm of his hand. 

“I love that you make the 600 miles between here and Michigan feel like nothing. Like I miss you all the time, but you always make it seem like you’re here, even when you’re not, as stupid as that sounds.”

It doesn’t sound stupid. Not at all. It’s crazy how much comfort Luke has given to you just through a phone screen for the past 5 months, like he’s been with you the whole time, all those worries about your relationship being too weak to withstand the distance that you had at the end of summer dissipating almost instantaneously.

“And I’m sorry I keep giving you reasons to think otherwise, but I’ve never felt this way about anybody before. I love you so much it makes me crazy, and it makes me do stupid things, and say shit that I don’t mean, but I mean this, I need you to know that, as insane as this whole thing is I’ll say it all again and louder if you need me to.”

Your heart is pounding against your ribcage, the trembling breaths you take to try and alleviate it providing very little relief, and Luke watches you with bated breath of his own, wincing a little in anticipation as he waits out some sort of response.

You reach up to the hand that rests on your cheek and peel it from your skin, fingers clasped around his palm and tugging it away carefully until you can bring it down. You step just a little closer - close enough that you’re looking up, close enough that you can place his hand against the rampant thudding in your chest, and hope that the proximity of him now helps calm you - helps build the kind of courage it takes to stand in front of the person you love and lay your heart on the line, like he just had.

“I love that your version of a declaration of love starts out as you calling it a corny garbage megamix,” you tell him, hesitant but hopeful, like you’re testing the waters, watching as his eyes start to well up too and relief wracks through him in a visible shudder. “And that you watch some movie 8 times on your own because it makes you think of me.”

He huffs out a breathy chuckle, the smile that takes over his face is unwavering and it spurs something courageous within you, fingers intertwining with those on his free hand and smiling straight back. 

“I love that every text you send me is a triple text,” you snort, “Like you couldn’t possibly just type out a paragraph, you have to send me every single thought as it passes through your brain. Like I’m the first person you want to come to about anything and everything, it makes me feel like you value me, it makes me feel good. And I love that you make everything lighter, and easier, and you never let me sit in my feelings, or let anybody make me feel bad.” You think of all the times he has defended you - to Jack, to yourself, even. He’d been so sure of you getting into your graduate program, more than you had ever been, and the stress around the whole thing seemed to dissolve whenever he was around. He’d backed you up when Jack went on his weird tirade at movie night, and has apparently been doing so the whole time Jack’s tried to sabotage things between the two of you. “Even if you do agree that I’m hard work.” Your lips twist in amusement as he dips his head a little, but you understand what he meant - where he was going with what he said. 

“I love that you make me second guess myself,” you tighten your hold on him a little, “And you make me think differently, think better. I don’t feel afraid or unsure when I’m with you, not about the real stuff.”

He tightens his hold, too, readjusts his fingers where you’re clutching at them until he can move your hands to your sides, pulling back until you’re touching, almost, chest to chest. 

“And if you asked me a year ago if I ever thought I’d want the boy I love to hunt me down in a dorky space exhibit, I’d have probably curled up and died from embarrassment at the thought,” you snort, “But I wanted to be here because it reminded me of you. Because you call me a dork, but you never make me feel like one, either. And because I used to want to feel like nothing when I thought of this stuff, but now I know that I don’t want to feel small, or insignificant, or unimportant,” you’re so close now that your voice is like a soft hum, stretching up on your toes and untangling your fingers from his for them to find purchase on his chest, helping you balance better. “I want to feel like I matter, and you’re the one who taught me that I do.”

You break eye contact only to watch the slow roll of a tear down his cheek, one he doesn’t even bother to wipe away, not afraid to show just how much it means to him for you to say all of that stuff back. 

“I love you, Luke,” you almost-whisper, but the lack of volume does little to lessen the meaning behind the words, and your eyes drift back up to meet his, “I’m sorry it took me so long to tell you.”

“Can’t believe you just outdid my own corny declaration of love.”

“Consider yourself megamixed.” 

“Shut up,” he laughs, the sound rumbling all the way from the depths of his chest and into your lips as he presses his own into them, fingers curling around the back of your waist as he pulls your body flush to his, and you think you see the swirling stars even when you close your eyes, a bright burst of colour consuming your brain until it’s all that you feel.

You kiss him without a single care in the world, forgetting that you’re in the middle of an exhibit, and that people might see, or stare, or think that you’re crazy. You love him, and you’re done hiding just how much.  He kisses you back the same, with intensity and intention, like he’s trying to cement all those wonderful words he said to you before into the core of your being. 

When you pull apart, slow enough that you barely separate at all, you watch as he smiles, swollen lips curved all the way up, the slight flash of teeth, cheeks balling up and his eyes creasing in the corners, and you feel your face mirror his, your noses pressed together and your hands still clutching at the shirt on his chest.

“Y’know,” he breathes, a slight rasp to his voice, “I was kind of right about one other thing.”

“What’s that?” You ask, backing away to give the two of you the slightest bit of breathing room. 

“This feels like the perfect place to take somebody on a date.”

Your smile deepens, somehow, big enough to ache a little, and when you rush and stumble out of sheer instinct to kiss him again, his hands are primed to catch you. 

And they don’t let you go for the whole 90 minutes you spend exploring the exhibit, where the two of you learn all new things about the universe and everything beyond it, and for the first time in a long time - the first time maybe ever - you let yourself believe that everything is going to be okay from here on out.

School might be hard, but you’ve worked almost the whole way through it with an end in sight, and a you’re building a life for yourself that you’ve never been so excited to live. 

Your parents might be shitty, and they might not show up when you need them, but you have other people who do. 

You have Ellie, who, for all her faults, has always been there to fall back on. She lets you spend the summer with her, with all intentions to have you stay the whole time, even if the two of you ended up elsewhere, and lets you impose on the holidays - shares all her traditions and never makes you feel like you don’t belong there. She cares so much about you that she goes a little crazy, but you think you’d rather have it that way than not at all.

You have Ethan, and you have Quinn, who both refused to fall for everybody else’s misconceptions of you - who encouraged Luke to persist when you gave him a million reasons to give up, and who were both in your corner without you ever even knowing about it.

And you maybe even slightly have Jack, who was just trying to look out for his little brother, like he’s so used to doing in all other aspects of Luke’s life, and who was willing to admit he was wrong despite how much you know it pained him to do so.

Everything in your life leading up to now might have jaded you a little, might have skewed your perception on what it meant to be loved, but you have Luke, now, to clear it all up. 

Luke, who is dorky, and unserious, and loud, and uncoordinated, and acts out of impulse sometimes in ways that hurt you, but cares about you too much to ever leave you behind. And that, yes, he’s someone who doesn’t leave, but he’s also someone who comes back - who keeps showing up for you despite you giving him a million reasons not to.

Luke, who persistently slips in through the cracks of your long-caged heart and cements himself a place so deep in there that you’ll never get him out - you won’t ever want to.

Luke, who you love, and who loves you back, and who tracks you down in the next state over with a bunch of ridiculous movie references and makes you regret ever telling him you were freaked out by declarations like that, because you’ve wasted far too much time now trying to convince yourself you were a cynic.

Luke, who told you all the way back at the beginning of summer exactly who he was - who he was always going to be, and you were just too stubborn to listen. 

Luke, who is, and always has been, inevitable.

When spring turns to summer, you find yourself back where it all started, your eyes fluttering open at the familiar sound of tyres rolling across the gravel driveway of the lake house, sun beaming harsh enough through the windshield that you have to squint against it, and your heart hammering in your chest.

It’s been a few weeks since you last saw Luke - when he’d surprised you at your graduation, and had helped you box up all your stuff back at the sorority, and the anticipation of a promise he’d muttered into your lips on your last night together has been the only thing keeping you going while you were back in Chicago with your mom.

The whole summer, he had promised when he invited you to stay, and I’ll even be your chauffeur again. 

The thought of coming back to the place you fell in love, with the boy you fell in love with, and getting to experience the beauty of it all through eyes that finally let you truly see it makes your heart do little somersaults in your chest - a feeling that’s only exacerbated when you climb out the car to see Luke sat on the stairs leading up to the front door, waiting for you.

You feel the weight of his crooked grin even from a short distance away, a warm, gooey sensation spreading throughout your entire body as you run straight for him, ditching Ellie to get out the car on her own time and leaping into his arms. 

You press frantic kisses wherever you can reach, and he holds you up so that you don’t fall, your legs wrapping securely around him as his glorious laughter rings out into the air around the two of you - your lips against his cheek, and his jaw, and his forehead, his nose, his eyes, even, and finally his mouth, where he matches your enthusiasm like he’s been waiting the whole time to do so. 

“You missed me, I take it.” He chuckles, lips moving against yours as the words fall between your lips, and you hum back, kissing him again as a response. 

“Get a room, that’s disgusting,” you hear the bitter scoff of Jack as he brushes past the two of you and heads straight for Ellie. 

“Don’t listen to him,” Luke mumbles as he carefully lowers you back down until your feet touch the ground, “I got us a room, I even put some things in there for you, do you wanna go see?“

“What about my bags?”

“Your bags can wait,” he smiles coyly as he grabs at your hand - tugging until you’re following him into the house, and up the stairs, a layout you could still follow with your eyes closed. The familiarity of it all makes your heart ache in the best way, a stupid, lovestruck grin taking over your face as he guides you towards his room - your room too, now, apparently, and holds the door open for you to walk in.

It’s pretty much exactly how you remember it, the big window looking out over the pool at the back, the lake in the distance, and a soft breeze causing the curtains to flutter gently. 

There’s the bed in the centre of the room, where you slept for the first time beside him, the same navy sheets, and you bet they still have the same soft linen smell to them, the same detergent kept in the laundry room downstairs. There’s the dresser to the side, where he once kissed you so stupid you never thought you’d think straight again. And the en-suite, where you first taken things a little too far with him, not that you regret any of that now.

The summer you’d spent so long trying to squash down is here now, larger than life, impossible to suppress or forget. And the boy beside you is the same. 

You can’t fight the smile as you turn to him, his eyes glinting back at you the same way they have ever since that day in the exhibit, a light in them that you don’t think will ever go out.

“What did you put in here for me?”

“Nothing, it was just an excuse to get you up here,” he chuckles, advancing on you before you even realise he’s doing it, hands sneaking around your waist until you’re pressed flush to his body, and he’s dipping his head to kiss you again. “But if you want to go shopping later, we can get you some stuff. Make it feel more like your room, too, add a feminine touch, or whatever.”

“A feminine touch?” You scoff, grabbing at his t-shirt and turning the two of you until you can push him down onto the bed. “You gonna let me paint the walls with rainbow sparkles?”

He scoffs, thighs tensing as you lower yourself onto them, straddling his hips and grabbing at his hands so that they can’t hold onto you like he wants. “If that’s what makes you happy,” he smiles up at you, dorky and adorable. 

“I’m happy,” you tell him, leaning in and kissing him slow, and sweet, unable to help when your lips curve up where they are pressed to his. “I will put one feminine thing on the list, although I don’t know anywhere around here that might sell them.”

“What’s that?”

“Pink fuzzy handcuffs,” you smirk, leveraging your hold on his wrists to lift his arms and press them back down into the bed, heart racing at the way he looks up at you - like you’re the entire universe. “So I can tie my pretty boyfriend to our bed.”

And then you lean forward again, pressing the curve of your lips back to his, revelling in the way his laughter ripples out into your mouth - swallowing it down until it swirls like petals in the depths of your stomach, cinematically swept up by a soft breeze, dancing and falling in slow motion.

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

“Definitely.”

A/N: guys I could hardly warn you above for the cheesiest ending you'll ever read in your life without spoiling the whole thing, but if a guy professed his love to me at destination cosmos, I'd melt into a pile of water slime or something. this is honestly so wild, and probably repetitive, and might feel rushed and insane towards the end, but I feel like it needs to be, because these two are insane.

I hope you guys are happy with this lmao, I've had a lot of fun torturing you the past few months!! a lot of LIH callbacks in this final chapter, if you can pick them out ily, it really feels full circle, and like the right ending for both of them, so I'm praying you guys enjoy it as much as the rest!!

Ending this series is bittersweet, because I truly do adore these two idiots, they have a place in my heart forever, and if they have a place in yours, I would welcome any asks/conversations about them in the future!!

Again, thank you. I don't really know how to end this without being a blubbering mess at how much I love you all for getting me here!!! Being able to finish something like this, and be genuinely proud of it, isn't something I've ever done before I came on this site, and your support of my writing, whether it be LIH or OYS or anything else, brings me so much happiness I can't even describe it.

[meadowfics]

physical affection

park gyeong-seok / player 246 x f!reader

all you needed was yourself, and the man who saved your life

warnings: no smut but there is a lot of physical touch and making out. consensual age gap, since reader is intended to be 21 while gyeong seok is 40 years old.

you never asked for this life.

you're only 21, you should be finishing school, figuring out your future, maybe even enjoying your youth.

instead, you're trapped under two hundred thousand dollars (USD) of debt left behind by parents who never thought about what they were leaving you with before they passed.

you had no way out.

no safety net, no backup plan.

the loan sharks didn’t care that you were young.

they didn’t care that it wasn’t your fault.

they wanted their money, and they made sure you knew that.

every single day.

when the squid game invitation found its way to you, it felt like the only option.

the debt wasn’t going anywhere, and no matter how many jobs you worked, no matter how much you sacrificed, you’d never make enough in this lifetime to pay it back.

so you went. knowing full well that this was a death trap or something mentally pricey, but also knowing you had no choice.

inside the game, you struggled to make allies.

you weren’t completely alone...you had hyun-ju, young-mi, and the mother and son duo.

they were good people.

however, you weren’t part of a real alliance.

you still felt out of place, like a stray in a pack.

since the first game, there was one person you always noticed.

player 246.

he was older, maybe ten or fifteen years older than you.

you had no clue.

he carried himself differently from the others.

calm, focused, not trying to stand out like thanos.

he always looked at you.

not in a predatory way like some of the other men, but like he saw you.

he was just as aware of you as you were of him.

still, you never had the courage to approach him.

you didn’t know if he was dangerous, if he already had an alliance, if he even cared that you were here.

then the mingle game started.

you never realized how much you relied on young-mi’s presence until she was gone.

you had distanced yourself from your allies after that unfortunate round.

now it was too late to go back.

the sound played.

the platform spun.

another round, the last round, was about to start, and you knew you had to move fast.

the second the platform stopped, you ran.

you sprinted toward the closest door, desperate to find safety before the round ended.

however, two men shoved you aside, sending you sliding across the floor as they slammed the purple door shut behind them.

panic filled your chest.

you scrambled to get up, but the seconds were slipping away.

if you didn’t get into a room now, you were dead.

before you could react, strong arms grabbed you.

you barely had time to process what was happening before you were pulled through another door.

the lock clicked.

the game was over.

you were safe.

you looked up, heart racing, and saw him. player 246.

relief crashed over you, and before you could stop yourself, you threw your arms around him.

“thank you,”

"thank you,"

"thank you,"

you choked out, barely able to hold back your tears.

surprisingly, he didn’t push you away.

instead, he held you, steady and firm, like he understood just how close you had been to dying.

he needed this hug more than you realized.

when you pulled back, your hands lingered on his shoulders, and his stayed on your waist.

it was the closest you had ever been to anybody.

suddenly, you couldn’t ignore the tension anymore.

"its no problem. I needed someone too."

he says.

“how can i repay you?”

you whispered, looking up at him.

you would do anything for him since he saved your life.

he shook his head.

“you don’t have to.”

you wanted to.

the way he looked at you, the way he had saved you without hesitation,

it meant something.

without hesitation, it meant something.

your eyes flickered to his lips. you didn’t think, didn’t overanalyze it.

you just leaned in and kissed him in the locked room.

he kissed you back, slow and deep, like he had been waiting for this just as much as you had.

the man's lips were soft, chapped, but soft.

you closed your eyes, letting yourself feel a temporary moment of peace.

when you finally pulled away, you asked him why he was here.

why he needed the money.

“for my daughter,”

he said simply.

your heart clenched. you weren’t expecting that.

“you have a daughter?”

he nodded.

“yes. she's sick. her mother died. if i don’t make it out, she has no one.”

you felt your stomach twist.

so he wasn’t just fighting for himself, no stupid debt.

he was fighting for his kid.

“this is the most selfless thing you could do for her,”

you murmured.

“i hope you make it out.”

he gave a small nod.

“i have to.”

gyeong-seok's voice was quiet but firm, and you could see the stress weighing on him.

the exhaustion, the desperation to survive.

without thinking, you reached out and took his hands in yours.

they were rough, but warm.

“do you want me to stick with you?”

you asked.

he looked at you, really looked at you, before nodding.

“yes.”

you squeezed his hands.

“then we’ll get through this together.”

from that moment on, you weren’t alone anymore.

neither was he.

after settling back into the sleeping area, you and gyeong-seok stayed close under a shared blanket in the top corner of the room.

your backs were against the cold wall, knees bent, legs touching.

the air around you was tense.

its lights out.

your breathing was steady, but your mind wasn’t.

your body wasn’t.

neither was his.

you could feel the heat radiating off of him, his arm brushing against yours every now and then, whether intentional or not.

neither of you spoke.

not for a while. it wasn’t necessary.

the game had forced silence upon you both after you guys walked out of the room.

its a forced understanding that didn’t need words.

however, the way he looked at you in the dim lighting, the way his fingers barely brushed over your hand resting on your knee..

it sent a slow, burning heat through your veins.

you turned your head slightly, your eyes meeting his.

he didn’t move right away, just stared, searching your expression.

your lips parted slightly, and that was all it took.

he shifted closer, just enough to ghost his lips over yours, waiting, letting you be the one to close the distance.

you did.

your lips pressed against his, hesitant at first, testing, but once he kissed you back, there was no holding back.

gyeong-seok's hand found its way to your jaw, fingers curling gently, keeping you in place as he deepened the kiss.

the man's lips were warm, slow but firm, like he wanted to take his time despite the circumstances around you both.

your body melted into his touch, your fingers gripping the fabric of his jacket as you tilted your head to let him kiss you deeper.

gyeong-seok's other hand slid down to your waist, his palm pressing lightly against your side.

it was nothing more than a touch, but it sent a shiver through your spine.

the blanket shielded you both from prying eyes, but it didn’t matter.

the world outside of it didn’t exist.

you shifted slightly, pulling yourself closer, slotting your legs against his.

gyeong-seok's lips moved to the corner of your mouth, down to your jaw, trailing slowly before coming back up to kiss you again.

your breath hitched, and he swallowed it, his lips parting against yours.

you pulled him even closer, desperate, aching for something you couldn’t quite put into words.

246's hand pressed more firmly against your waist, his thumb stroking absentmindedly along your ribs, like he was memorizing the feel of you.

the room around you was restless...players whispering, people shifting in their sleep, others watching for danger

none of that mattered to you.

the man's lips were soft, but the way he kissed you was anything but.

it was slow, deep, controlled, like he wanted to make this moment last as long as possible.

your fingers tangled in his hair, nails scratching lightly against his scalp, earning a quiet exhale from him.

his breath was warm against your lips as he pulled back slightly, his forehead resting against yours.

neither of you spoke.

the man's hand slid from your waist to your back, holding you there like he wasn’t ready to let go just yet.

you stayed like that, your noses brushing, lips barely touching, your fingers tracing the lines of his jaw.

right now, it only is you and him.

three days later, somehow, against all odds, you and gyeong-seok made it out alive.

the games were over.

the nightmare was behind you.

you had both seen too much, lost too much, but you survived.

that had to mean something.

the prize money was split between the remaining five people who survived.

even after the split, it was more than enough.

you could finally pay off your debt.

you could breathe.

for the first time in your life, the weight that had been crushing you for years was finally gone.

gyeong-seok wasted no time.

the second you were out, he used his share to pay off every last hospital bill for his daughter.

he still had enough money left to give his daughter a comfortable life.

na-yeon had been his reason for fighting, his reason for enduring.

now, she would get the care she deserved.

before anything else, he took you to the hospital.

you had been through hell..your body bore the evidence of it, bruises and wounds that would take time to heal.

you insisted you were fine, that he should be with his daughter

instead, but he refused to leave you alone.

after you were cleared to leave, you guys stayed in the hospital.

you realized that you were walking to the pediatric unit with him..

“come with me,”

he said.

“i want you to meet her.”

you hesitated.

this was personal.

this was his daughter.

despite everything, you and gyeong-seok were still figuring out what you were to each other outside of the games.

“are you sure?”

you asked quietly.

“i don’t want to intrude.”

he took your hands in his, warm and steady.

“na-yeon is the sweetest girl in the world,”

he reassured you.

“she’ll love you.”

so you went.

when you stepped into na-yeon’s hospital room, you weren’t sure what to expect.

the second her small eyes landed on her father, her whole face lit up.

“daddy!”

the toddler's voice was soft but filled with excitement.

gyeong-seok immediately went to her side, cupping her tiny face in his hands, pressing the gentlest kiss to her forehead.

then, her gaze landed on you.

curious, but not afraid.

“who’s that?”

she asked.

gyeong-seok turned to you, his expression soft.

“this is y/n,”

he told her.

“she’s my friend.”

you guys were more than friends, partners actually, but that might be too much to explain to na-yeon right now.

you stepped closer, smiling carefully, not wanting to overwhelm her.

“hi, na-yeon. it’s really nice to meet you.”

she studied you for a moment before offering the smallest, sweetest smile.

then, without hesitation, she reached for your hand.

your heart clenched.

slowly, you took it, squeezing ever so lightly.

na-yeon's smile widened.

gyeong-seok watched the moment unfold, something stirring deep in his chest.

he had entered those death games with one goal: to make it out for na-yeon.

somewhere along the way, he found another reason to keep going.

another reason to fight in his everyday life.

you.

as he watched na-yeon hold onto you so easily, so trustingly, he realized it fully.

he had found the love of his life in the most unexpected place.

in those cruel, merciless games, you were the one who stood by him when no one else did.

you were the one who reached for his hand in the dark.

now, you were here.

with him. with his daughter.

you decided that you were gonna stay with him, and na-yeon too.

especially in a world that finally, finally, felt like it was giving you both a chance.

masterlist

[baobaojng]

Rouge (Kim Mingyu)

(mafia & ??? mingyu) x (afab! jazz club singer & ??? reader)

themes: angst, fluff?, smut (minors dni)

summary: things only get complicated when the singer at the club who's running away from her past catches the eye of a mafia member who has more to hide than he lets on.

warnings and notes: mentions of violence, drugs, drinking and smoking, reader is a little bit of a brat lol, pet names (baby, songbird) oral sex (m and f receiving), fingering, unprotected sex (please wrap it up irl, this is fiction so we can go crazy in writing haha), mingyu is huuuuuge, a little but of a size kink, creampie, i got a little carried away honestly — sex montage and all lol… there’s a sort of rewarding love making scene so maybe that can make up for it… I’m so sorry…

a/n: i do not permit the use of this fic for anything else. this work is mine and mine alone. these premises and characters are entirely fictional and do not intend to paint anyone in a bad light.

©2025

wordcount: 16,893

author's masterlist

It’s his fifth Saturday in the club.

You know this because it’s the fifth time you’d seen him from where you stood on stage. On the same table, with the same drink of straight whiskey from a frozen glass, with the same set of men you were familiar with already.

But he was new. 

New enough to pique at your interest.

You had been singing for the Rogue club for about a year now almost, a well manicured spectacle to keep the rather intimidating clientele entertained. A friend of a friend referred you as a new entertainment for the club; thinking you would be open to accepting because they knew you were running away from something, and the Rogue was well secure enough for you to go into hiding.

The initial contract was two months, you knew the risks of staying in one place for too long. But as you slowly learned that the Rogue was no ordinary nightclub, it dragged on for as long as it did now. It seemed your departure was not entirely clearly written in the future. It seemed a better option to settle. To stay.

Being a spectacle at the Rogue meant you were part of an ecosystem that offered you protection— as your coworkers at the club would like to tell you. This place was neutral territory, though plenty mobsters and gangsters of different circles patronized the joint - there were absolutely no scuffles, no fights, just quiet drinking, smoking, and minding each other’s business when the shows were on and for as long as they were in the club’s premises.

That implied that since you were the jazz singer at the Rogue, it was out of anybody’s best interest to pry. No one knew your real name, no one would bother to look for you when the sun rose when you were not in your fancy glitters and furs. You would hide in obscure anonymity, only to be known on stage as such. Although some did attempt to act on their interests, you had always so kindly let them down before anything could happen and be unearthed.

New faces came and went, some faces too familiar, plenty men in their tailored coats and hats. All of them just faces and ears that looked and listened, none that caused you any particular trouble. Though they were a topic of conversation among your workers, consistently feeding your own ears with the propriety and the reputation of all your old and new patrons. It was simply enough to be familiar, but there needed to be a clear distance if you wanted to stay longer— if you wanted to be safe longer. 

The man that has been here for five Saturdays straight though, it seemed he was far different. His suit jacket always hanging behind his chair, making him stand out in a crowd of men who would rather sweat in their suits - while he seemed illuminated white his white button up shirt exposed. Or whatever undershirt he decided to wear.

He had a long gold embellished cane that leaned lazily on his table, matching the large golden ring he wore on his pinky finger. An accessory that shone under the light that made you squint only just a little when he held his whiskey glass so close to his face. 

Another thing about him was that man was tall, his frame making it absolutely obvious even if you had only seen him from tables away. His neck craning to entertain whispered conversation from the company he frequented. Company that you did know well from stories, and because they were rather regularly courteous leaving you tips after your sets. 

But the thing that intrigued you was how gorgeous this man was. Something about how everything in his features perfectly framed this image of attraction, and you knew by the way his eyebrow raised in acknowledgement when any other female stole so much of a glance that he knew he was every single thing of appealing. 

Maybe that’s why you had to be careful when you felt yourself looking at him for too long.

With one of your hands perched on your hip, and another daintily wrapped around the ribbon microphone, you wait for the band’s music to wistfully fade out with the final notes of your voice.

Your set for the night was finally done, and while this typically made you sad, it felt like quite a relief these past five weeks.

With any other attractive man watching you on stage before, it felt like a gift to be the performer on stage catching their attention. But this tall, beautiful man’s face just looking up at you from the crowd made you uncomfortable. Even as your eyes met from far away, the feeling in your stomach that pinched at your sides was not a good sign.

You were an artist, sure. Did it mean you exaggerated each feeling that ran through your mind? Absolutely. You could never ever mistake the feeling of gravitating toward someone, and you knew that not knowing more about this man was the safest choice. 

There was a certainty in you that just knew you’d be absolutely in trouble if you tried getting closer and if you tried so much so as to get to know more.

“Thank you very much, you’ve all been such darlings tonight.” You finally say in your most sultry voice, claps echo from across the room. 

From behind the mist of tobacco smoke, you see that he is the only one not applauding. A cigar on his lips as he puffed out enough smoke, it almost felt like cheating how it exaggerated his handsome features. His long curly hair just still and lying perfectly on his head, much like the stone cold look on his face.

Trying to gracefully exit, you make your way down the stage toward the table at the side dedicated to the jazz band’s ensemble.

Jennie, a waitress at the Rouge that you were friends with, heads straight to your table with a drink in her hands. 

Straight whiskey in a frozen glass, the frosted appearance unmistakable - and the smokey scent almost immediately recognizable. 

“It’s from Mr. Kim,” She points to the table where the tall stranger sat, but all the men at his table were all caught up in conversation, “you have a new fan, huh?” 

You roll your eyes. “Well it’s the least he could do, he couldn’t even be bothered to put his hands together to clap.” You say.

“He’s just not the type to do that.” Jennie says, and you quirk a brow - now knowing that she knew something of this man. 

“How do you know that?”

She sighs, “just be careful, okay?” Jennie walks off now.

Your eyes look around to follow your friend who now disappeared among all the tables, but instead you find yourself making eye contact with this… Mr. Kim, who now had a name, albeit the only one you knew was a last one.

He raises his own glass, signaling for you to do so with the glass of whiskey he just bought you. It’s only common courtesy for you to raise your own glass, offering a smile as a thank you with your eyes glued in eye contact with his. How you dreaded how this made you melt, but you could not let any sign of weakness show.

The two of you slowly sipping whiskey, not going unnoticed by the other sets of eyes from his table.

This was not you being careful.

“What is all this?” You ask Minnie, who was in charge of prettying everyone up at the club. She ran the large dressing room at the back, and she’d probably be the person to know where the huge flower arrangement sitting on your designated vanity came from.

“Mr. Kim sent it over, Vernon delivered it when we were hauling in the new dresses for the season. Summer’s getting hot.” She responds, not seeming at all concerned about the gift sent to you, only rambling on about stressing about an entirely new wardrobe.

At this point, she was so used to men sending you chocolates, flowers, stuffed bears, and strange objects of affection. This was just another pre-Saturday night occurrence.

To you this was not anything regular, wondering what this Mr. Kim wanted in return of your affections— wondering if this was the same Mr. Kim you had been dreading yet looking forward to seeing again. You now did know that Vernon delivered these to the club, and that same Mr. Kim surrounded himself constantly with the guys from SVT. 

‘Songbird. Share a drink again with me tonight, but I prefer you being in the same table as me. - M.’ 

A note placed atop the elaborate bouquet read, confirming the identity of this Mr. Kim.

That night when you sing on stage, your eyes try to wander around, looking for the man who bought you a drink and sent you flowers - but he did not take the same seat at the same table. No man taking off his suit jacket and smoking his cigars, no sight of him at all.

It shouldn’t surprise you that men of this line of work were not men of their words; coming and going was a part of the business, and relationships were often their flaw.

“Thank you very much, you’ve all been such darlings tonight.” It’s the same spiel you had, waiting for the applause to die down and the stage light to dim before you make your way to your table once again.

There’s a vague ghost of where the stage light burned through your cornea, your vision still a little bit of an obstructed mess - seeing the circle of light each time you blinked.

So you resorted to keeping your head low in hopes that the low light would help your vision go back to normal. Only a few minutes of this and you knew it would cure this temporary issue.

Around the ground where you focus your attention, you see the outline of a gold plated cane. You wonder if you’re imagining Mr. Kim’s cane, since you felt a deep disappointment at the loss of his presence for the night - especially because he did ask you to share a drink. More so, it did make you expect him.

“Are you feeling well songbird?” A hand is placed on your shoulders, the sensation warm, but somehow the confirmation that he was there made the hairs on the back of your neck stand.

“I am, thank you.” You place a hand on your chest, and your vision has in fact cleared - and you’re trying to act as though you’re well confident enough to face this man.

Except you felt nervous, maybe a little scared.

“Did you get your flowers?” He asks, cooly pulling out the chair from across you.

“Yes I did, they’re beautiful. Thank you.” You look up to see him clearly now, expecting to be less wooed by how he appeared, but he looked so much better up close than he did from tables away when you were on stage. 

It was only really unfair that someone was crafted so gorgeously.

“I bet you get flowers all the time, songbird.” He says with a grin on his face, “has anyone been so impressive for you to accept sharing a drink or are you this courteous to every man who wants to pin you down all for themselves?” This Mr. Kim asks, commanding a raised hand, and Jennie comes just in time to give him a glass of whiskey and you a martini.

“I suppose I do receive little gifts now and then, I don’t feel the need to lie to you. But I don’t regularly get asked to share a drink, and if I do - I turn them down immediately.” You tell him honestly, and you can tell that he seems pleased.

He smiles, and you notice how his canines frame it.

“Good.” He nods before he takes a sip of his preferred alcohol. There’s a moment of silence that swallows you before he speaks, starting with a click of his tongue. “I hear the way all these dogs talk about you like you’re some piece of meat they want to devour.” He scans around the room and there’s an almost scary glint in his eyes when he does so.

“I don’t mind what they say or what they think,” you smile the sweetest smile you can, “I simply sing for the club and that’s it.” You take the martini glass and start to take a tiny sip.

“I hope you don’t mind I took the liberty of asking which drink you usually got.” He points at the cocktail you had.

Figures. 

“Only if it means you were being attentive when you asked.” 

“I can be more attentive, if you find that what I say or what I think matters to you.” He’s challenging you now, wondering out loud what you meant earlier.

In the world you two are in, the best and safest thing for you to do is simply be passive and let things be the way that they present themself to. But something in the way that the tone in his muscles build through his suit jacket as he waits impatiently for your answer has you so tempted to tease him.

You tilt your head to the side, knowing how your hair would effortlessly follow suit with the movement. 

“What do you mean by that?” 

He knew you knew what he meant— you did, and he can only huff out in almost frustrated laughter.

“I’m interested in you, and I want you to feel the same. Or should I spell that out for you in case you want to know how that checks out?” 

It’s your turn to smile and giggle, and it breaks whatever tension this man had written on his face. He can swear that it’s the most pleasing sound he’s heard.

“You can prove this interest by giving me a name first, you know. It’s so extremely difficult to be sincere.” 

“It’s Mingyu,” He answers almost too eagerly, “I know you’re Y/N.”

You get too lost in his eyes for you to notice how everybody at the club had noticed another man in your table.

It feels like time circles down the drain; Mingyu ordered several rounds more, and the night died down with patrons slowly leaving the club. Only the two of you keeping the momentum of laughter and conversation - getting to know each other but not getting to know too much. 

“It’s getting awfully late.” Jennie interrupts a joke you were laughing at, and it was a clear warning to see that only the two of you were occupying the club now. She was trying to be protective, you knew it in the tone of her voice and the way she fearlessly eyed your companion. 

“Uh… yes… we’ll have to wrap this up then.” You try to straighten the way you sit as you say this, but you know that the gin and the vermouth have probably shot up straight into your brain and somehow your balance is not as poised as it was earlier this evening.

Mingyu goes out of his way to catch you, you feel his large hands graze the exposed skin of your shoulders. 

“I’ll take care of her Jen, I swear it on my life.” Mingyu tells your friend, and if you weren’t so disoriented you would probably ask how they knew each other; the nickname not going unnoticed. 

“You better swear it on your life.” She only says, turning to you now, “please just be safe Y/N.” Then she walks off with a tray of your empty glasses.

“You’re a bit tipsy now aren’t you?” Mingyu asks you, and now you’re hyperaware of the warmth of his palm still pressed up on your skin.

“Maybe.” You smile as you draw out the word and he laughs. 

“You are.” 

“I am not. I’m a little drunk is what I am.” You say, raising one index finger.

“I would be anything but a gentleman if I let you go home in this state alone,” he tries to explain but there’s a playful glint in your eyes from the intoxication and it prompts him to be forward, “can I please take you home tonight, songbird?”

You can only laugh again.

“Nothing funny, just me bringing a girl safely back into her home is all.” He explains and you nod. 

“Just please... let me get my things in the dressing room.”

That’s how you end up alone at first, dizzy as you tried navigating about the familiar space, hoping that you could get to your own vanity— but that was proving to be a difficult feat. The sound reverberates when you accidentally hold on to some clothing rack, the metal bumping into someone else’s vanity. 

This alerts Mingyu who has been patiently waiting just by the doorframe of the dressing room, who swoops in to save you just in time from tripping further into landing somewhere else.

“Martinis should not be your drink, songbird.” He comments, still cautiously placing a hand on your shoulder as you turn into mush. 

“Maybe we shouldn’t have been carried away.” You try to blame him, but you ease up on trying to tease him any further. Your temples felt like any of the veins were just about to explode, and your heart was thumping so hard in the confines of your chest - but you knew that had little to do with the alcohol and more so the proximity of this man.

You’re lucky he knows exactly what the flower arrangement he sent you looks like, as it looked so elegantly out of place in this crowded dressing space. It’s almost a relief when he steadies you onto the vanity you were hovering over, quickly making his way to what he presumed to be your little area. 

“Are these your belongings?” He’s able to pick out the medium black purse that definitely does belong to you. You simply nod to say yes.

Mingyu picks out the beige mink coat that’s splayed across the chair of your vanity, he carefully places it over both your shoulders. The weight of the thing making it stable enough not to fall onto the floor, but he takes his time patting it down and you can feel his breath on you.

You don’t know what drives you to do it, but it takes a little bit of effort to tiptoe enough to get at the level of his height when you place a kiss on his lips. 

Expecting your affections to be reciprocated, it sobers you quickly when you pull away to find that he presses his lips into a line - not at all responsive and not looking the slightest bit impressed by the kiss you had given him.

“Thank you.” You just say, coughing to the side to avoid his gaze as you take your purse from one of his hands, and you make a hasty exit to the door. 

That was embarrassing.

Not much is said on the walk out. He tries to walk beside you, but you maintain a good half arm’s length away from him when he tries to come close. 

“I don’t live far from the Rouge.” You speak up, now you’re completely in control of your motor movements and you’re sure you’ll remember each awkward step the next day. Though, it was quite early into the morning now that the sun could come spilling in from the shadows at any moment. You were familiar with the light breeze of dawn.

The cobblestone street of the neighborhood made each click of your heels reverberate through the other stone buildings. The Rouge was tucked around here somewhere, in the mayhem of alleyways intersecting through one way or another - a perfect place for the kind of people it housed and the people that visited it.

Easy to get in, get lost, and hide— but difficult to get out if you did not know the area well. 

Mingyu lights a cigarette when you reach the end of your street, only a few meters now. Silence wraps around the two of you, the cold an unwelcome addition to the mix. 

It doesn’t feel like he’s watching you, but you know that he’s attentively following your movements. A turn to your right and you reach the cozy apartment complex you resided in.  

The lobby is empty, but the reception desk your doorman is properly lit - and you notice the steam from a coffee cup half full. You should consider it luck that your doorman is not present to see your companion; heaven knows what Mingyu’s reputation was.

“I’ll walk you up.” Mingyu says as you fiddle with your fingers, standing right in front of the elevator doors. You’d hoped he would have left you there, and maybe you could deal with the rejection of the kiss much easier. 

You only nod.

The elevator is empty, and you make it a point to stand in the corner as far away from him as the confined space could allow you. But the smell of cigarette smoke is oh-so present, and even if you lean hard enough on the hand railings you know that you can’t escape him.

You reach the top-most, sixth, floor rushing to walk to your front door. He hovers behind you as you slip your keys in the knob, ignoring his proximity. 

“Y/N.” You can hear him say softly, and you ignore him still. The lock finally clicks, and you’re able to go inside turning on the lights as you do so.

Walking into the small hallway at the entrance of your apartment, you do not expect Mingyu to come inside. He swiftly takes one of your hands to stop you from walking away any further and his other hand locks you in place as he presses you gently agains the wall to face him.

“Please don’t tell me you’re interested if you don’t even want me kissing you.” You squeak, noticing how hard he’s staring at you.

“What’s a gentleman to do when he knows his lady is intoxicated when she kisses him?” He responds, holding a hand palm-facing the wall just above your head. If being cornered was a literal feeling, then he had a great way of making you feel that.

“You’re just saying that.” You reason.

“I don’t want to take advantage of you.” He bites back.

“And what if I want you to?” You challenge him and you can tell he’s holding back by the way he inches closer. 

“Don’t threaten me with a good time, songbird.” He whispers so close to the side of your neck, inhaling sharply. “That’s— see, this will get you in trouble.” He comments.

This gets you genuinely curious. “What will?” 

“This perfume.” He says, head lower and you can feel his breath fan over your collarbones.

“What about my perfume?” You try moving closer to him.

“You smell like bergamot and basil.” He mumbles, “and it’s been a pain in the ass smelling how sweet you are all evening.” 

“Is that why you didn’t like me kissing you?” You ask him, and you can tell he’s not in the mood for sarcasm.

“That’s why I didn’t, yes.” He agrees, but before you can protest he speaks again.

“Do you know how hard I want to do this properly? To impress you? Want to get to know you and let the veil of mystery wear off before I can even hold your hand— let alone kiss you on your cheek?” He sounds frustrated now, looking up to meet your gaze.

“Tell me what’s getting in the way of that then.”

“You!” Mingyu’s hand meets the wall behind you again, “you’re so fucking tempting. I can’t even act like a good man to you right now because you’re getting in my head and I can’t take it.” 

You gently place your own hand just above the nape of his neck covered by the overgrowth of his medium length hair, pushing his head closer to yours that there’s barely any space left to breathe.

“Let’s just skip all your gentlemanly scheming this time.” You say and he swallows on nothing. “I’m letting you have your way with me now, be nice to me later.”

That’s all it takes for him to kiss you, impatiently dropping your purse off on the ground when you turn into jelly as both his hands cup your face. You moan as he grunts, taking off his suit jacket as you navigate getting your thick coat off in time.

“Fuck.” He mutters under his breath for the few milliseconds that his lips are not locked into yours, your tongue slipping in lewdly as you’ve now decided you’re making out while unbuttoning his long sleeved dress shirt.

Mingyu sucks on your tongue, earning a quick gasp from you as he begins to knead at your breasts. You feel your nipples hardening beneath the cotton of your bra, and you want him to know how aroused he’s making you - placing your hands atop the hands he’s using to feel you up you make him touch you harder.

“Come on, get me naked.” You challenge him, now seeing how blown out and lipstick stained his own swollen lips looked.

“Not here.” Mingyu runs a hand through his hair. “I’ll fuck you here against this wall next time, but I want to be sweet to you the first time, got that?” 

“Oh you’re such a romantic, aren’t you?” You trace a hand over his bare chest, ogling at the rows of muscle just proudly framing his torso.

“And you my dear, are such a little minx.” He finds a way to carry you by cradling you in his arms, back to kissing each other because neither of you can get enough. 

“First door past the living room.” You manage to say and he complies, opening the door to your bedroom.

Mingyu places you sitting gently on the edge of your double bed, allowing you to watch him. He discards the long sleeved dress shirt, removing each sleeve and leaving it on the floor. 

God he was hot. He was so insanely hot. 

“Am I impressive enough?” He taunts you again in this long game of teasing.

“I don’t know, maybe I need to see more.”

Mingyu scoffs.

“C’mon, let’s be fair. You have to tempt me.” He demands, the way that he’s staring at you is making you feel so small.

“Take it off me then,” you tug at the hem of your dress, “don’t you want to impress me?” You lean, knowing very well that the valley between your breasts will come into perfect view.

“Careful now.” 

“Don’t you want to show me how much you want me?” A smirk forms on your face and he looks like he’s too impatient to care, unbuckling his leather belt now while making his way to you.

“Arms up, baby.” He commands and you smile in a daze. Mingyu tugs so gently yet so forcefully at the silk dress that he’s able to leave you only in your underwear. You lean back, using both hands to gain some stabilization as you sit.

All you can do is focus on the way he’s getting rid of his pants, noticing the huge bulge forming underneath his boxers— but all he can do is mutter several ‘fuck’s under his breath as he admires your body. 

“Please touch me, Mingyu.” 

“You don’t know what you’re in for when you say that, songbird.” He comes close to unclasp your bra, setting your breasts free for him to touch. Your nipples going hard at the harsh intrusion of the cold air of the room, but even more so the arousal from the situation. Before you can get anymore impatient, he sucks on one of your breasts - circling his tongue around your areola. 

And so your moans flood the room, gasping at his fingers toying with your clit over your panties.  Trying to desperately please you, get the sounds out from your pretty little mouth, wanting to get you all naked for him. 

He decides he cannot wait anymore, and he takes your panties off so quickly that you gasp when his tongue swipes a lick over your pussy. Attaching his mouth to suck on your hardened sensitive clit, he brings a finger slowly into your hole. A squelching sound ripping through your load moans, and this makes him excited.

You were so fucking wet for him.

He becomes more playful now with his movements, the suction of his mouth so evidently focused at which angles brought out the most reactions - and the addition of an extra finger entering you, curling up to find the spot that was just sharply hitting your pleasure. The build up is sudden, because he knows what he’s doing.

The impressive thing when he makes you cum over his fingers and on his mouth the first time, is how he manages to keep going despite your desperate want to free from his motions. Even just for a moment, you wanted to take a break from the irregular spasms of pleasure of your orgasm - but he holds you down only with one muscular arm.

Then he makes you cum twice, three times. Your arousal dripping as far as his wrists.

“Fuuuck, you’re so beautiful, songbird.” He admires how you catch up with your own breathing, checked out of any energy you had left - but you knew you didn’t want it to end here.

He’d be content with things taking a halt here, honored to have given pleasure to your woman, but you suddenly grab the hand he used to finger you relentlessly— sticking his fingers in your mouth like a fucking lollipop. It’s such a lewd sight, and it impossibly makes his cock even harder than he thought it could. 

When you lick his fingers clean of your own arousal, you look him so dead in the eyes. “Can I please suck your cock?” You ask, although surprised when you feel him through his underwear - how massively long and thick he felt already.

Given any other time than now, he would say yes. Already listing off the times he’d want you to suck him dry, but now, he was impatient. 

“Some other time baby, I need to be inside you.” He gives you permission to take his boxers off and you do.

Your suspicions are proven to be an underestimation of how big he is, because he was really - intimidatingly huge. You mindlessly stroke his cock, lubricating his length with the precum already leaking from his tip. 

“Oh, God. Mingyu, I need you inside me please.” You say, and his face contorts into that of a wince from the sudden pleasure of your stroking and the dirty dirty words coming out of your mouth. “Need you to stuff me full.”

“That’s it.” He comments, using his strength to manhandle you onto your back - you lay on your bed with your arms pinned above your head, him on top of you. Your legs naturally spreading open to accommodate his body just settling in the middle. 

“My pretty little thing has a dirty little mouth,” he traces your lips, a darkened look in his eyes. Mingyu begins stroking himself now, lining his thick tip to the entrance of your pussy and it already stings. “Saying all that in your sweet voice too, telling me to stuff you full.” 

Before he can enter you he suddenly curses under his breath. “Fuck, baby, do you have any condoms?” He looks like his mood is almost ruined as his hair flips back in frustration, but you steady him back by placing your hands on his broad shoulders so he can look at you.

“It’s fine, I’m on birth control, and I’m clean. If you’re clean and you don’t mind being inside me raw, that’s fine by me.” You explain, and even the way that you even mention him being inside you riles him up again. 

“I am, you have no idea how many times we have to get tested in this line of work.” He mutters. “Needle exposure.” 

You lean upward quickly to place a peck on his lips.

“Come on, don’t make me wait. I told you I need you to stuff my pussy full of your cock.” It’s the sweetest dirtiest thing he hears when the melody of your voice mixes with your choice of words.

“Don’t tell me I didn’t warn you, sweet songbird.” Is all he says when he guides half of his length inside you, and the pulsating sensation of your own pussy accommodating the stretch of your walls makes it feel like he did not prepare you enough. 

Tears well in your eyes, not expecting it to hurt this much - but not expecting it to feel this good either. 

“God, oh dear God, you’re so big— Mingyu.” It’s a mixture of a sob and a moan. You can’t even focus on how hard he’s staring at you, absorbing each staggered breath and how your pussy lips seem to swell at his cock still pushing in.

“You can take it baby, I know you can.” He pushes in some more until he bottoms out, reaching a hilt inside you. It’s so hard for him to control himself because you’re so wet and warm, and so fucking tight. 

But for you, he can be patient.

It’s you that initiates the first movements, lifting your own hips and hooking your legs just behind his ass - almost like locking yourself to him.

For him, you cannot wait anymore.

You push your hips back only a little, moving just to feel the sensation of him rocking inside of you.

“We’re a little impatient, aren’t we?” He grunts as you continue, frustrated that you can’t move far enough to get his cock to plunge into you far and as deep as you know he can. 

“Puh—uh-please!” You’re frustrated, and he doesn’t miss how your brows knit and your lips part in such a lewd fucking plea. In fact, his view of your breasts delicately jouncing as your try to move and get any friction from your lewd attachment is riling him up more than you realize.

Mingyu abruptly digs his fingers into your thighs, halting your movements.

A forceful thrust rips through your pussy when he leaves so much as a tip and slams into you, and you mewl.

“You.” He thrusts once. “Have.” Another. “Got.” Another. “Me.” Another. “Going.” Another. “Crazy.” 

He lifts one of your legs straight up into the air, the shift making him feel even deeper inside you. And it is absolutely erotic when he closes his eyes and takes a deep breath around your ankle, caressing your bare leg that he’s hooking behind his head.

You almost look frail perched up against him in this angle; his well-built body seemingly engulfing yours and the sheer massive size of him pounding into you relentlessly as sweat beads down to the tips of his hair. He just keeps going, his hips a piston charging into you with such force that it unravels lewd sounds from you until the strain in your throat is obvious.

It’s even harder to catch up with the breaths you’re taking with your open mouth, but your pleasure mirrors his. 

He’s determined to make you cum again when his thumbs find the nub of your clit while he maintains his momentum. “That’s it.” Mingyu is satisfied when you squirm, trying to stop him, “you have one more in you for me, baby.” He pressed his thumb even harder and you almost want to bite down on your arm.

Head molding into the pillow as you thrash around, the high coming in unexpectedly as he puts you in a precarious position - folding you almost in half with your legs pressed against your upper half. 

“Mingyu— ah, I-I can’t anymore—ah!” You plead, but you know you don’t actually want him to stop.

Continuing to stimulate your clit, you know you’re about to cum again. “Give me one more baby,” he bites his lip to suppress his own groans, because he can feel you wrap and tremble so tightly around his cock that he’s plunging even harder into you, “cum around me, cum around my fucking cock while I’m inside you.”

This has you going, about to reach your peak, “I’m gonna… I’m gonna!” You almost scream, but as he feels that tightening coil begin he moves down to kiss you.

You unravel with a kiss, spasming around him as you reach for his muscular back to get him to pause and give you time to recover from the ongoing pulsating pleasure.

But he keeps on going, pulling away from the kiss, swearing he’s going crazy as you’re clamping down on him. 

“Inside me, Mingyu, finish inside me.” You beg in sobs, but you look him to straight in the eyes with your dilated ones. Pupils so honest, so lost in pleasure.

“Fuck.” He says. “Say that again and I’ll fill you the fuck up.”

God, he’s so hot like this. How can you say no?

“Please Mingyu, I want you cumming inside of me.” You say, and he picks up a pace you did not know to be possible. “Fill me up, baby.”

He swears he can almost imagine it, filling you up so good and so full of his pleasure. 

“Fuuuck. I’m going to cum inside you.” Mingyu says it as if saying it will seal the truth of it happening. It takes a few more moments, you clinging onto him for dear life, and he finally reaches his peak.

There, coming undone, spilling his load of cum inside you. You can feel the pulsating mess of his cock, and you squeeze even harder as he twitches. Mingyu might see stars after this, but right now - still inside you - he looks at you with warmth and admiration. A stark contrast from the intensity of his lust moments before.

The man falls lightly atop you, enveloping you in a naked embrace of steam and sweat— his deep manly scent even stronger to your nostrils. You take each other in.

“I don’t typically do this.” He admits when you find yourself playing with the ends of his hair.

“What do you mean, you don’t just give girls the best fuck of their life after having drinks for the first time?” You tease him again, but you only receive a chuckle of disbelief.

“Hate to honestly openly inform you that I did tend to fuck around before, songbird.” He says and you don’t really mind it. “But I don’t usually fuck on the first date when it comes to ladies I really really want to impress.” He nuzzles into your neck to hide his embarrassment, and now you’re not so sure that this was the same man of mystery and intimidation you thought he was. 

“What’s with you and trying to impress me so much?” 

“Am I not allowed to feel that way?” He quips, and this has you unimpressed but laughing anyway.

“You’re having my head in for a spin, you know? Just coming in out of nowhere telling me all these things I don’t know how to count for.” It feels comfortable to be honest around him, especially with his hands on you - rubbing small shapes in.

 “I’m telling you,” he whispers, propping his chin around your chest to face you properly, “I’m sincere about you.” 

You try your best to place a kiss to his forehead, giving him a smile. 

“I know you are.” 

The affair is fast paced, no warning signs and no inhibitions - just pure unadulterated dedication. 

You get to know more of him, learning that he’s more than a perceptive man: in fact he pays attention to so much detail that it feels like he lives in your own mind. He’s attentive, patient, and he always lets you finish what you want to say— Mingyu even knows what you’re saying without you having to say a word of anything. Simple sighs and gestures and he’s gravitating to anything to appease your every need.

The mix of it all is impeccable, he tries so hard to please you - to impress you. But he fucks you so hard and so good that it almost feels like in those moments where he’s buried so deep inside you that he hates you. It’s the type of sex that feels almost disrespectful, but you were not in any position (literally) to complain.

To his defense, there’s no proper gage or comparison to your exhibitions. It’s almost like he wants to do and outdo everything every time. He’s bent you over backwards your kitchen counter, even living up to his promise of fucking you against your hallway walls. You’ve been at his place, impressed at how large the townhouse was - but he convinced you that real selling point was having to fuck you against any doable surface, and an added bonus if he could fill you up each time. 

Mingyu’s also had you in the back of the sleek black car right after one of your shows, not caring at all that anybody wise enough to stare more than five seconds would definitely notice the fogged up windows and the car violently moving despite it being parked. 

It’s only a miracle that you could sing the same way on stage, already having a taste of his cock many times after he promised you could suck him off— which meant that you did test your limits by having him hit so deep into your throat because you loved it when he called you his little slut. And that meant that you wanted to please him anytime you felt the warmth blossom in your chest. 

But he did retaliate, you couldn’t even count the amount of times he’s ripped through your stockings just so he can get his vulgar tongue as deep and as wet as possible to lap up at your pussy. You remember holding the hand railings of the stairs to the emergency exit of your apartment building, trying hard not to add to the sound of his slurping because anyone could come in at anytime. 

He’s the exact opposite of what you expected: a warm person compared to the secret life you know he lives in his line of work. If there was anything that did bother you even just a little bit, was how calculated he seemed to be.

Sure, he was very particularly punctual, but you did notice a routine.

You didn’t count on him catching on that you too were perceptive; running away from your past did not mean that you let go of every single characteristic that hardened your character. 

There’s a pattern you notice after a week of dating Mingyu: you can never get him available in the afternoons. At first, you slip into late nights - bodies wrapped together until the morning broke, but he would always be neatly polished before noon came around and he’d be out any door— be it your apartment or his house.

It doesn’t bother you of course, be it as it may. Whatever his set-up was still considered a profession, though not one so dignified as maybe a doctor or a lawyer.

The pattern breaks one Tuesday morning however, when he gets out of bed after a series of knocks to your door. You knew better than not to be alert, sleeping at his house and hearing all the loud knocking - but you had to pretend it did not affect your slumber. 

You feel Mingyu take a good glance at you, and sigh to himself as he puts on some pajama bottoms and answers the door. 

When you’re sure the number of creaky steps he takes to get down are correct, listening intently to the thumping footsteps - you try to get to the window of his bedroom to take a look at the street below. 

A black hearse is parked outside, and you can almost make out the person waiting at the driver’s seat. But it’s Vernon’s voice that allows you to know exactly who’s making rounds to pick Mingyu up. 

“Hate to take you away from your honeymoon.” Vernon jokes, and you know that they’re talking about your relationship. “I can smell her perfume on you too, you know.”

Mingyu chuckles, as if it’s no big deal that you’re a topic of the conversation, telling you that he must be good friends with Vernon - the same person Minnie mentioned delivered those flowers to the club. It did not take a rocket scientist for you to figure out that they were both from SVT.

“She’s not exactly my lady yet,” Mingyu admits, and you have to agree, “but I’m getting there. Or at least I hope so. And yeah, I tell her all the time that perfume might get her in trouble— but it drives me crazy just being able to smell her around. I’m like a fucking dog.”

You can even hear the playful shove Vernon gives Mingyu, the two of them chuckling now like two school boys. A stark contrast to whatever it was they were really getting to, your mind trying to go over any clue you knew about their organization - but you were blanking right now.

Anyone at the Rouge did not speak so much about SVT, and you felt a little wary.

“It’s just that Cheol wanted to make sure you were alright, the guys over at Hoshi’s were almost bulleted to shreds last night— we’re lucky Woozi intercepted about the raid and got them out of the warehouse by the dock before anyone could open fire.” Vernon says, changing the atmosphere of the conversation.

Mingyu hums, it sounds like he’s deep in thought, “they probably know I’m back.” 

“Oh, they do.” Vernon affirms, “but they want all of us to pick sides.” 

“And should I be scared?” Mingyu almost laughs, and it’s not because he’s entertained.

“Of course not brother, you know we’ve got your back.” 

“Thought so, got me worried there Vern.” The clicking of a lighter is heard, and the smell of smoke travels quickly. You duck your head back, recoiling from the smell having invaded your lungs too early for your liking - but your palms land at a strange wooden plank on the floor. 

It takes a trained eye to notice that it’s made to look as old as the other wooden planks lining the room floor, and it’s something you spot quickly. softly tapping on the board to notice that it echoes only slightly as if hollow inside. You lightly press around the edges, and with the right balance of force— it lifts open without a sound. 

Inside, you notice a metal utility box, but underneath are manila envelopes - organized in a manner you cannot quite decipher yet. 

“Let’s just finish these sticks, and I’ll let you get back to your missus.” Vernon says, and you keep the floor board closed for now. Not wanting to mind it at the moment - but now scratching at the back of your mind. 

What was in there?

“You better keep making those jokes, I'm enjoying getting teased for once.” Mingyu’s enjoying Vernon’s teasing, and it’s pretty clear in his tone. “I’m convinced that this girl is the one.” Your chest tightens, and it’s both because you feel the same but there’s also an unexplainable fear there. He may be genuine, but there was so much you did not know. 

It had you wondering if both of you could peel back all the layers of secrecy, one day being completely transparent with each other. 

“You don’t have to worry about her. She’s the songbird at the club, no one will go after her.” Vernon almost says it as if he’s easing his friend’s mind, “Neutral territory.” 

Sure, it seems good that Vernon doesn’t suspect you. Or at least, none of them do. 

“Not until I marry her, you know. Neutrality will fly out the window.”

You hear Mingyu get smacked, his cry of pain already distinct. This thing he says has your heart up to your throat, he was thinking so far ahead and your mind hadn't even wandered there yet.

“You haven’t even seen her that long— hell, I’ve seen her on stage longer than you’ve been playing house!” Vernon scolds him, “you haven’t even introduced her to us properly. Hey, is this was brothers do? Just casually say they want to marry someone?”

“Okay okay okay, just give me more time. Can’t I fall in love in peace?” Mingyu defends himself, and you can’t help but feel so warm inside when he openly admits this. 

“For you and this mess we’re in, I’m afraid that’s a privileged option to have any peace at all.” Vernon says, and it’s almost a cue for you to get back to bed before Mingyu can come back.

If you were curious before, you were itching to know more by now.

“So now you want to know?” Jennie asks you, it’s only a few hours before the Rouge opens and she’s working a shift behind the bar - cleaning the drinking glasses as you sit by one of the bar stools. 

“You’re the one who told me to be safe, were you not?” You beg her, with the best cute voice you can pull off. “You can’t tell me that and leave me in the dark— you know how secretive their group can be.”

“Yeah well, no shit are they secretive.” She nods her head. 

“So you’ll tell me?” 

Jennie sighs. “You’re lucky I love you. That, and you’re lucky Woozi and I are… somewhat close.” 

“Well?” 

“Well, a year before you came to this town everyone did not like each other - you know, territorial claims on the business district. Who owned which street, who protected the other. They still kind of don’t like each other but now I’d guess that since Mingyu came back, it feels like all the people coming in the club are almost friendly.” 

“Why’s that?” You ask her.

“Couple of bigger groups from a way’s over from here thought it would be funny to bring in opioids and other cracked up drugs into this town - and if there’s something that all the groups here in this town don’t like. It’s that. They can brawl and fight, make a big show about having bigger guns— but having regular people drugged out? No. Everyone here’s afraid of what petty addiction can do, but these days the drugs are circling around our district. No one knows where it’s coming in from.” 

It triggers a terrible memory in you, but you just nod and let her finish.

“So, you want to know about your lover boy?” She offers, obviously giving up from gatekeeping any more information from you. 

“Obviously.” You are able to say in a forced breath.

“Mingyu’s always been good to everyone, don’t get me wrong— SVT as a whole are well liked because they all have friends from all different groups, but Mingyu is in deeper than most of them.”

“Should that make me feel like I’m naive?” It makes you wonder aloud but your friend offers a good smile.

“No. He’s a good guy from what I know. Grew up normal, exceptional, good family, good school, the works. Almost too good really, kind of feels like he doesn’t belong in this world.” She says it like she’s realizing it just now. “Actually, he’s just too good that he kind of does blend in.” 

“But why is he so different from everyone else then?”

Her smile fades, “he disappears a lot, Y/N. You should know that. Just gets up and exits this town from God-knows-where, and whenever he comes back from some random place in Europe or wherever it is he does business - he comes back just fortifying the standing of SVT.”

“When’s the longest he’s gone?”

“The year you moved in and settled?” Jennie thinks back, “I think you arrived here a few days after he left.” The coincidence has you questioning it too, but Jennie speaks up again. “Hey, all I know is, people around him respect him enough— and it looks like he has a reason to stick around.”

She points her index finger straight toward you, almost like an accusation, and instead of glowering at that you find yourself in a deeper hole than from when you started. 

Mingyu never once mentions or makes you feel like he was the huge deal that Jennie had detailed to you he was. 

But in this dimly lit restaurant, you can tell that he’s receiving special treatment from the staff. Expensive wine already prepared in a gold-plated ice bucket, and complimentary cuts of cheese flowing in without even a word of instruction from him. 

“Something on your mind?” He asks you, and now you know it’s evident how you’ve spaced out.

“Just you.” You respond, and the biggest smile just paints his face. It’s strange how your heart jumps out of your chest still; this thing has been going on for almost a month now and it still feels like you’re always so peckish around him.

Always feeling like a schoolgirl, always having your heart thump so loud, always wanting more. 

“Oh I better be.” He says. “Since we’re on the topic of me on your mind, I actually meant to ask you something.”

You dread this, the way his voice softens and how he looks down at his plate like it’s scaring him to ask you directly. It was so unlike him.

“Are you going to ask me about moving the chair in my room? I know you always bring up how you seem to trip over it.” You lighten the mood, and it works.

“No, I wanted to ask you if you could be my date to the Mayor’s Banquet, actually.” He blurts out, and this typically gruff man seems so small now.

You’ve been going out to town together publicly already, comfortable with everyone knowing you had something going on. So the answer was obvious, and you wonder why he was even asking. 

“Of course I’ll come with you, why wouldn’t I?” You reach for his hand resting on the table, and he seems to melt under your touch.

“I just wanted you to be prepared because some of the guys are going to share the same table as us, and I just wanted them to properly meet my significant other.” He just called you his significant other, “and I didn’t want you to feel like I was blindsiding you.”

“Oh Mingyu, you think of me too much.” It’s endearing, really. 

“But as my girlfriend, you’re coming with me as my girlfriend— only if you’ve made up your mind. Or is this the most unromantic way to ask?" Is what he says in a hurry, before settling to his wine. The two of you never really got to touch on labels, something that didn’t feel necessary. You were in each other’s lives routinely at this point, doing everything but making things official.

It’s no longer a question, really. You thought he knew you’d say yes in a heartbeat. 

“Aren’t I already your girlfriend?” You tease him, “I probably read all the signs wrong then.” You can tell he wants to kiss you right now, but he’s holding himself back.

“Sorry, my sweet sweet girlfriend.” He says in disbelief almost.

“Yes, my sweet sweet boyfriend.” 

In one of the finer sides of town, where a massive hotel is perched to accommodate large groups of tourists and host grand conventions, is where the banquet is being held. Though this is mind-blowing-ly out of place for any choice of itinerary you may have, it seems your preferences are already changing to accommodate the man in your life. 

It’s all so already too snooty, too rich for you. Politicking in any way, shape, or form was something you wanted to avoid— and you found that this banquet was not about the Mayor’s speech at all.

It was about… politicking. That, on top of drinking and meandering. 

It’s a relief that you were going to meet Mingyu’s ‘brothers,’ as he liked to describe them on the way here. Except the people you were meant to meet didn’t want to be early enough to stick around for the initial pleasantries, making you look forward to the dinner portion of the banquet to meet them at the large circular dining table instead.

It’s Wonwoo, Vernon, and Sungcheol who accompany you— already greeting you (or really, Mingyu) with teasing smiles. Very well suited up like how you usually saw them. 

“Hello.” Sungcheol initiates, reaching out to offer you a hand, “so you’re the one softening our muscleman?” 

You shake his hand back politely, “I don’t think we have to act like complete strangers.” This makes him laugh. 

“We know you of course - the only voice we ever look forward hearing on Saturdays.” Vernon pipes up, and Mingyu seems already unpleased.

“Now, you’re not allowed to say that about my girl.” Mingyu tuts, and everyone laughs.

“Cut them some slack, Gyu. I’ve seen them at the club for longer than I’ve seen you!” You defend his friends, and he looks almost betrayed. 

“Nice to finally be acquainted with you.” Wonwoo is the next to offer you a hand, and Sungcheol finds it in him to already comment.

“You know, Y/N, Wonwoo here is sort of like… Gyu’s ex-wife.” He shares, Vernon is already holding in his laughter.

“Close.” Wonwoo nods, “more like inseparable roommates, that was before he moved out into the big world and decided to kick me to the curb. Apparently I’m not good enough for a big town house.” You know Wonwoo to typically be the type to nod in silence and not at all touch an alcoholic beverage at the Rouge, but you were surprised to find him chatty. 

You look at Mingyu who looks like he’s been disarmed defenseless, but you poke at his torso and flash him a smile. “Maybe I should be getting jealous then?” 

“Maybe just a little,” he pouts, “enough to console me.” 

“Don’t fall for it, Y/N. He hardly deserves it.” Vernon says but you shake your head and wrap your arm around Mingyu’s.

“Sorry, I can’t do that to my guy.” You smile at all of them, and you can feel the way Mingyu’s heart thumps. The arm you have in your grip is just held tighter, and you’re both just glad this is going better than you expected.

The three men coo, and you decide to finally settling into your table. But Wonwoo stays right behind to whisper something into your ear.

“You love him?” He asks, head tilted toward pointing to Mingyu who’s already in conversation with Sungcheol and Vernon.

“Wouldn’t be here if I wasn’t.” You admit quickly, and this seems to please him. 

“Do you trust him?” Is his next question, and this time there’s a pause in the air - but he seems to understand your hesitation. “You don’t have to admit to that if you don’t want to.” Wonwoo offers you a look for comfort. Your mind goes back to Jennie, the floorboards in his house - how he never got around to once opening up to you about what he did on a regular basis.

But here he was, introducing you to the people in his life. Parading you around town as a girlfriend. 

“I guess you understand.” It’s already unspoken, but he agrees.

“I’m not telling you that you have to force yourself to believe me, but you should… Trust him, I mean.” He says as you two make your way near your table before anyone notices how long you’ve been talking.

“I’ll remember it was his ex-wife that told me to.” You laugh, and this seems to please him, a laugh is shared between the two of you.

Mingyu has been staring at the two of you settle down, wondering why you had a separate conversation and why he only noticed as you were about to finish— but Wonwoo gives him a knowing look and he catches a bit of your last sentence to know whatever it was… was probably in good faith.

“I like your friends.” You tell Mingyu, who looks a little surprised. 

“They like you too.” He says low enough for only you to hear. 

The banquet seems to go by smoothly now that you have three new characters to converse with, it feels a bit like you’re less alone in gawking at all the sparkled and well-made-up crowd. There’s now company for you in looking at this strange display of power and wealth from the outside.

Mingyu excuses himself when some staff call for his attention, cautiously approaching the table the five of you occupied. It seemed everyone got the memo; nobody was approaching your table in particular— keeping a good two yard circumference from where you sat. Like there was an invisible forcefield preventing them from socializing with any of you.

So it does seem strange when Mingyu stands to leave, being escorted to the Mayor’s table. 

From where you sit, you can see him so clearly. An advantage to his tall build was how he seemed to tower over everyone, and in that moment he looked like he properly blent in with all of this.

He shakes hands with everyone at the Mayor’s table, pleasantries are obviously exchanged and Mingyu seems to wear a smile with ease. Bowing, nodding, approving having his photo taken with the Mayor by the in-house photographer and some from the local paper.

Was this not out of standard protocol?

Your questioning eyes don’t go unnoticed, Wonwoo who’s been observing you speaks up.

“Trust me, we’re still getting used to being part of his world.” He says, adjusting his glasses to also give a glance to Mingyu. 

“And this is normal?” You ask Wonwoo, and he knows well enough that you’re referring to the strange scene at the front of the hall. 

What was Mingyu doing?

“Nothing in Mingyu’s life is,” Wonwoo sighs, looking at the wristwatch he sported, “but then again it’s not like we lead such normal lives either, now do we?” 

It’s something that catches you by surprise when he asks, but with a nervous swallowing of the lump that formed in your throat you have to agree. You’re simply inclined to.

Wonwoo’s not finished talking though, and maybe this was his way of comforting you - no matter how harsh it may be. “Think of it this way, he’s the one putting up a performance on stage this time. You just have to understand that it does all of us less harm than if he didn’t.” 

Your wine glass was still significantly full, but you take it by the stem and take it all in one go. Wonwoo is surprised, but it’s your turn to assure him that it’s okay.

“You told me to trust him, right?“ You say. “I’ll trust him.”

As you say this, Mingyu along with the Mayor and other notable local faces in town have already gone up into a private room, and it doesn’t evade your gaze at all. Leaving you wondering what there was to talk about that was so important.

But you had to trust him, even if it meant that you hardly trusted yourself.

“I’m sorry I had to leave you with the guys back there for a bit, I hope it didn’t feel like you were babysitting.” Mingyu tells you, the two of you leaning on the handrails of his balcony. 

“No, not at all. They’re pleasant people, your friends.” You say as he puts his suit jacket over your bare shoulders, making you quick to hug it over your body to prevent it from falling.

He wraps his big strong arms around you next, the wind cooing in as the cold is battled away by the nearness of your bodies. Mingyu whispers something about your perfume, and it makes you giggle - momentarily leaving tingles around your own body. 

“I love you.” He whispers, it’s the first time he says it, and he hopes that hiding behind your hair can save him the embarrassment. 

Your muscles tense, surprised at the confession. You know you love him too, but it’s extremely difficult to admit that you’re completely in love with a man you know has secrets. You could be selfish too. It’s the same reason why you moved to start fresh in this town, but the world had other plans when Mingyu entered your life.

It’s like you cannot escape your past at all. 

But you cannot betray your own heart like this, not when the month you’ve spent loving this man has been nothing but pure bliss. It’s not just about the amazing fucking, or the immediate longing when you haven’t been enveloped in his embrace for more than a few hours.

It was the doting, the loving in silent remembering. How you fell into instant melodic routine— how you did not have to say anything at all to know it clicked. It simply worked. Beyond who you were and what secrets you both did not divulge, it truly felt like you found another part of your soul you hadn’t known was ripped away from you.

He didn’t make your life feel like how it had been. Like running away. Pretending you were fine with the monotonous routine: doing piles of laundry, not being able to properly eat by yourself, prettying yourself up to sing at the club— only looking forward to weekends to feel like you were somebody. Like you were alive. Instead he had you yearning for everyday, knowing that there would be a better version of yourself to be learnt in love. 

You loved him too, and the realization has you terrified. 

A tear falls from your eye, and it does not go unnoticed by Mingyu.

“What’s wrong?” He panics, but he only gently expresses this. There was horror in hearing that you did not love him back, but nothing scared him more than the sight of you even shedding a single tear because of him.

“I just—“ you gasp in some hair, “I just… I love you too, that’s all.” You bring a hand to find his arm, clasping on it.

Turning to face him now, he meets your gaze for a kiss. It’s so different from any kiss you’ve had before, now your body completely turns to accommodate what’s transpiring.

Your hands finding the back of his neck and some fingers tangle up in his hair. His own hands find their way to your back and your waist, pushing you in closer to him if that could even be possible. 

“Say that again, please.” He asks you.

You deliver a small peck to his lips again before pulling away, “I said, I love you.” 

“God. I love you.” He kisses you. “I love you.” 

You’re lead into his room, away from the cold of the late night. It’s not so foreign to you, how these nights go. Scary how easy it is to kiss his lips, indulge in the fine way his body had been built the way it is. 

By this point, you know he welcomes you gawking at his naked figure. Mingyu wasn’t shy of showing off; you figured out pretty early on that he was comfortable walking around without a shirt on when the two of you were at each other’s places. You weren’t complaining though, you’d literally be an ingrate to do that. 

So when his shirt comes off in a frenzy of passionate kissing, so does your dress. You did joke several times that you felt almost like a mannequin for his reflex training, because he somehow always managed to get you undressed so quickly without making such a fuss out of it.

This time you can’t tease him, the love inside you almost making you burst.

“I love you.” He says it again, kissing at your neck as he moves down to make a trail to your collarbones and your chest. 

“How much do you love me?” 

He likes that you ask this, for him it feels like a challenge— one he can prove with his big rough hands tracing at the very lateral sides where the curves of your bust flow into the curve of your hips. It’s almost choreographed when he lays you onto his bed, spreading your legs wide like a present only for him to open. 

“I love you so much that I only want this to be the air that I breathe.” Mingyu finally answers you this way when his breath fans over your spread pussy. He kisses the insides of your thighs before he sucked on your clit. 

Mingyu was a generous lover— making sure you got your fill of pleasure all the time was something of second nature to him. If someone was pussy-obsessed, then that was the only correct way for him to be described when it came to you.

It’s messy this time: the way that he eats you out. Pressing against the back of your thighs to keep you in place, not caring just how sloppy or messy he’s getting you. And you can feel how wet everything is getting, when he fingers his spit into your hole - your arousal and all that drool from his mouth just mixing.

When Mingyu curls his fingers in the way he knows to get you to make those sounds he very much likes, you try your hardest not to shit your eyes and almost scream in pleasure. You want this moment to be special because your love confession warrants it, but it’s so hard to focus on his knitted eyebrows when he’s hitting all the right fucking nerves.

You pant, the dryness of the ventilated air through your mouth was definitely going to be an issue later - but you brush it off because he’s looking straight at you as his tongue his pressed so flat up against your pussy. He takes a hand out to intertwine it with with yours— the eye contact and everything he’s doing with your tongue just building up enough stimulation that you begin to feel the same pulsing sensation he’s just so good at giving you.

“Gonna. Cum.” You tell him, and there’s almost a  smirk on his mouth. But you can’t handle it this time because he goes even faster, even when you squirm and dig your hands into his hair. He’s the one to groan and keeps on going, already feeling the familiar taste of your cum.

The sounds you make when you reach your own climax are one of the things Mingyu tells you he lives for these days— telling you there’s no sound quite like it. So when your head thrashes around to the side, he takes the hand once intertwined with yours and reaches to keep your face up at him. 

He’s only capable of doing so because his frame was massive compared to yours, and you absolutely did not mind when he made you feel that he towered over you.

“Always so good to me.” He says, kissing around your stomach. “Feels like I’ll never be able to deserve it.” A kiss to your breasts, kissing at the hardened nipples. “But here you are giving yourself to me, telling me you love me.” You moan when he circles his tongue around one nipple as he gropes your other breast. “Fuck.”

“Kiss me, Mingyu.” You’re able to steady a hand, still feeling like jelly from your high, to lift his chin to face you. He’s so stupidly handsome. Hair just falling to frame his face — puppy dog orbs just staring up at you. As he hadn’t gone down on you just now.

And so he does, like his life depends on the gift of your lips. 

You push him off, something that still manages to surprise him when you have sex. Taking command was something you did not outwardly desire to do when you wanted to, but when you get down on your knees and nicely guide him to sit so you can suck him off - all he can do is comply. 

“You don’t have to do this for me, baby.” He winces when you lick a stripe over his long hard cock, your trail of saliva barely covering enough to compensate for the girth of him. Mingyu was truly built long and large, everywhere. 

“I want to.” You say, kissing at his pink tip, precum already leaking from the slit. 

You don’t mind how Mingyu tastes, in fact if you were to be honest - you really liked it. So when you lay your tongue out flat to accommodate swallowing him into your mouth until his tip reached the back of tour throat, it’s all in good pleasure to have your eyes well up with tears. 

When he groans and moans above you, trying his best not to push you down any further. This stretch of your mouth, and the way you salivate all over his cock, is all worth it. Even as tears fall down to your cheeks as you bob your head up and down, gagging each time the length challenged your throat— the sounds he makes and the way he trembles makes it so rewarding.

You keep going, until you notice the way he falters, gritting his teeth so close together that you can hear the way his molars click. 

“Fuck, baby. How are you so good to me?” He moans out, “my pretty little songbird taking me so well in her pretty little mouth.” 

Mingyu loves this, you know he does. In all the naked glory of his head tilted so you can see the perfect outline of his nose bridge, his thick eyebrows, and his defined jaw going slack. But you know he doesn’t want to finish like this, though he has plenty of times finished in your mouth - this time is different. You know he’s made up his mind when he holds you by your temples, making you stop.

The way his weight falls upon you is one of your favorite things, it feels like he envelopes you. You feel every muscle, every hot plane of skin just above you. 

He kisses you once more, his tongue so diligent. Collecting your moans as he multitasks between your mouth and aligning his cock to your entrance. You’ll never get used to him, his sheer size. But something new this time is how he seems almost careful, gentler than you’ve ever felt him fuck you. 

“So so good to me— so good.” He says, but you’re too lost in pleasure to utter a word - almost gasping in your sounds. His hands find their way to intertwine into yours again, somehow it’s second nature for you to reach out to each other. 

You know you love him, and it’s not about the sex. You feel it. You’ve never felt a feeling so tangible before.

Mingyu knows which spots to hit now, making good memories of which parts of your body were most sensitive. He loved having you responsive, and you were so pliable to his love. 

“I love you.” You whisper, and you mean it. It’s so difficult to find it in you to speak, especially when you let him have you like this. 

He kisses you in response, his expressions are so soft and yet so sharply focused on you. “I love you too.” 

He works hard to chase your high, no matter how easy it is for him to unravel at your sweet warm tightness. You don’t remember how you get to finish— but you do remember how fragile you feel when he wraps his arms around you as you come undone. Becoming putty in his grip as you postively vibrate in your own body.

Mingyu asks if he can fill you up and cum inside you, waiting for you to make a clear response despite the haze of pleasure you were in. And you let him.

It’s the most emotional you feel after sex, and he has you breathless. He leaves you only shortly to get a clean towel to get you settled for sleep, and though you know the relationship is set on the right path - your mind goes to the wooden floor boards. 

And what secrets could lie underneath. 

You do not notice him leave in the early morning, but he wakes you up around midday. 

Already dressed in his finest, Mingyu looks like he does when you know he’s gone off to ‘work,’ whatever the nature of that may be. But today you’re surprised by something new in his appearance. 

“Good morning.” He sends a sheepish grin to your sleepy eyes, walking over to your side of the bed where he can sit.

 “You cut it.” You reach out to him, touching the now shorter ends of his hair. 

“Do you like it?” He looks worried that you don’t.

“Well,” you purse your lips to pretend that you’re unsure, and he looks so obviously worried. “I haven’t seen you with anything but your long hair.” You say, hand mindlessly in his hair.

“I can grow it out if you want me to—“

You take both palms to his cheeks to get better leverage when you press a kiss to his mouth. “I didn’t say I didn’t like it, I’m just surprised you’re still as handsome with short hair.” You laugh.

Mingyu smiles that same toothy one you’ve gotten used to. 

“Wish I could stay longer, baby, but there are errands I have to run.” He takes both your hands in his before he stands up. “You can stay as long as you want, this is as much your place as it is mine.” He says, hovering around the doorframe.

“Alright.” You say, sitting upright on the bed.

“I love you, I’ll see you later.” And he goes wherever it is he’s supposed to. 

This becomes normal for the next few weeks. Mingyu just running in and out of the house at strange times, far from the original pattern you noticed. He tries his best to hide things from you— soiled bloodied clothes going straight to the laundry room before you can catch a glance. But you’re quick to see them when he leaves the house. 

You barely get to spend much time with him, between the Mayor’s Banquet and your love confession, it feels like he’s operating on an entirely different planet from the period you had started the relationship. Mingyu insists you stay over more often, but it doesn’t exactly mean that he’d be there at his house to spend time with you. 

Somehow, it feels lonelier.

It’s his first Saturday missing out on watching you sing at the club.

Mingyu told you he’d be there tonight, but it was an unspoken promise for him to be anyway. He just told you that he’d be around for the show the same time he always did, but your set was about to come to an end and he still wasn’t anywhere to be seen. 

In fact, the entire table SVT typically occupied was empty. No familiar soul at all.

“Thank you very much, you’ve all been such darlings tonight.” You say your ending spiel, trying your best to look the same you usually did— but the problem was that you felt disgusting inside.

You were angry, sad, confused. The empty table was staring back at you, and you already felt defeated. Hell, you didn’t even know what was even going on. 

Charging away from the stage, you go backstage to gather your things. You decided you were leaving, you didn’t want to stick around for a drink to see if any one of them were coming in. It seemed that this was your breaking point, all the running around and hiding had finally caught up to you and you felt like something was going to go horribly wrong. 

You’ve felt this feeling before, and the ending was not one you liked. 

The rush of all your emotions doesn’t give you a good recollection of how you end up back at Mingyu’s house, heart breaking at the cold and now more dark looking living space. The same way you left it in the afternoon, no trace of him coming back between then and now. 

Rain started pouring outside as if on cue to match the mood you were in, now every sound you made in this house was dampened by the competing rain drops outside. 

The first thing you do is look for the luggage cases you brought into his home, slowly moving into his place over the time you’ve been together. It’s easy to spot, but a little difficult to get— placed on a shelf above a cupboard space, another reminder of Mingyu’s tall frame and how he can easily undertake this simple task that has you cry in frustration.

But you do get it, almost having the case fall at your feet. You stuff clothes into your luggage, not worrying about the way that you’re packing it all in unorganized. 

It’s so hard to reach for things when you don’t have a proper sense of control over your body.

Any sane logical person would have waited it out, would have preferred not to overreact. But you had to admit that you were a flawed, slightly insane, and now very emotional person. And that meant that you trusted your foresight more than you wanted to. 

The only thing thar breaks you away from your heavy-handed packing and sobbing was the sound of the front door opening so abruptly downstairs. The rain had been pouring too loud outside for you to even register anyone’s arrival. 

You place a hand over your mouth, trying to silence yourself. 

If it were Mingyu arriving home, you knew his gentle approach. Whoever this was… was not Mingyu, or at least you were certain that it wasn’t him opening the door.

What you do hear is the moving of furniture around the living room, and some panicked voices commanding each other. Some of these voices were familiar.

“Be fucking careful, man! We’re trying to save him, not fucking him up even more.” You hear Vernon say as you sneak by the stairs, trying to get a good view of the commotion. 

From where you were, you saw the coffee table pushed away from the center of the living room - and the couch pushed up against the wall. None of them had bothered removing any of their shoes when they went in— traces of hurry left by the wet tracks of rain they brought in.

It’s no mistake that the groggy figure Wonwoo and Sungcheol are positioning down on the couch is Mingyu. Though he’s slumped, seemingly not in control of his own body, you were so perfectly familiar with the navy blue suit he wore this morning. But now that you cannot help but walk down the steps, a hand still clasped over your mouth but the tears still forming around the waterline of your eyes, you see that the suit is bloodied up - damped from the rain.

You almost trip over a small puddle on the floor, but Vernon catches you by the shoulders. 

“Jesus.” Is all he can say, knowing what a wreck of a situation this is having you look already distraught.

Across you, Mingyu was breathing - but he didn’t seem to be conscious. You could see the gash resting a little atop his brow bone, but that was nothing compared to the excessive bleeding of his shoulders. The culprit a dark spot, large enough to accommodate a dime it seemed.

He was shot in the shoulder. 

Just then another character enters the house, one with a compact leather case - a familiar Woozi closely following after him.

“About time you got here, Minghao.” Sungcheol addresses this man, and even though you want to stay laser focused on Mingyu - this Minghao hurriedly unpacks his things to reveal all sorts of medical equipment.

Only when your eyes dart around all six men in the living room do you notice how none of them are in the best shape. Fresh cuts and early forming bruises sported their knuckles and some areas of their faces that you could see. Only Mingyu had a bullet wound, and only this Minghao has no external injuries - but he looks as equally stressed out.

“It’s not like I can be here in a snap of a finger.” Minghao rolls his eyes, beckoning Woozi to help him prepare his tools. 

“He fell on his side too, if that helps.” Wonwoo tells him, and Minghao nods hurriedly. 

“‘Course it does.” With large scissors, they begin cutting around the shoulder line of Mingyu’s suit and undershirt, avoiding having to move his already shot shoulder that he apparently fell on too.

Vernon comes into your vision, albeit blurry from the tears you’re crying. “Hey, Y/N? I need you to be calm okay? Mingyu’s going to be fine.” Then you notice Sungcheol and Wonwoo look at you to respond to Vernon, but you keep your sights on Mingyu— whose bullet wound you see now as clear as day.

Was this how it was going to be?

The feeling of running away from a life that constantly scared you? And now, having someone worthwhile to care for - to love for, but at the risk of never knowing if they were safe?

You simply nod, still in tears, holding in the way you want to breathe so sporadically. Allowing Vernon to pat your back, as Sungcheol approaches to do the same. 

It’s easy for you to go back upstairs and put back your things the way that they normally seemed; from then until the next three days— it seemed all the SVT members were taking rounds keeping Mingyu in what seemed to be their version of a hospital inside the living room on the first floor. 

Minghao, you’d learned, was their in-house doctor. They did not have to explain how very necessary it was to have somebody around to mediate things of physical injury, but you figured it made sense. In all the seriously strange-for-you, but certainly not-so-strange-for-them manner of things.

It did not seem appropriate for you to leave Mingyu, not when you also took your time hovering around his not yet so responsive state. If everybody else had gone back home, or decided to take refuge in one of the guest bedrooms or one of the other couches - you found yourself doting on Mingyu. Hoping he’d do more than wince at the antiseptics used to clean his wounds, or mumble, nod, and groggily comply if he was moved around to go to the bathroom or have a wash up. He couldn’t even eat so properly yet. Not that you noticed.

Mingyu is almost functional after five days. 

Almost is quite loose, actually. He can barely reach for anything beyond a 90 degree angle, but he was lucky his towering height could compensate.

The two of you have barely had a proper conversation, never talking directly about why he got shot in the shoulder - not once mentioning what happened that evening. It bothers you that you don't get much out of him - not even about why he had to had to have a private conversation with the Mayor, where he usually disappeared to, and what got him to get shot.

Only tiptoeing around his injury, things around the house, and getting over the silence of being left alone again when the other boys decided that you two could manage without them. He could barely look you in the eye, although you had slept in the same bed— there was nothing more than his arm draped around your waist in slumber. No more than an embrace was shared, and you knew it was not normal.

So when you see him dress up in another one of his suits, you’re gobsmacked with disappointing astonishment. 

“You’re leaving?” You ask him as you stalk around the door way to the closet door where he was adjusting his tie. He seems stunned to see you there, and you can tell that he doesn’t know what to say or if any reason he can give you may be convincing enough. 

“I’ll be back, don’t worry.” He rushes to place a kiss on your forehead, “I’ll see you tonight.” Is the last thing he says before he leaves you.

That was also the last thing he said the night he didn’t show up to the club. 

You did not have it in you to fight him, to run down the driveway of his lawn and try to sway him to tell you what was going on that was worth risking his life for. That part of you already dissipated the night you almost packed up and left.

Mingyu already seemed determined, too passive to feel like he needed to explain. You could tell that his mind was anywhere else than with you, and it lead you to believe that the answers you longed for from him could be found under the floorboards. 

Just looming around the back of your mind waiting to be revealed. 

Tonight. He’d be back tonight.

It was only an hour before noon now, and it meant you had plenty of time until he’d be home. That gave you more than enough time.

It is not exactly the same way it was when you first opened it. The metal utility box is no longer locked and the array of manila envelopes already in a huge mess, as if someone had been in a hurry to look through whatever was in there.

Without thinking you reach for the first thing you can— a worn out envelope with a stack of papers inside. You carefully try to remove it from where it was placed, meaning not to give yourself away should you want Mingyu not to know that you were going through things he obviously wanted to keep hidden.

You feel your head spin at the sight of you. 

All of your information, neatly typewritten onto paper - with an old photo of yours you could not even remember where it had been taken from. All the details of your birth, where you’d grown up, the name of your parents, known relatives. Everything biographically summed up. 

So you go through each page to get a better understanding of what it was you were looking at. Each page felt like a huge slap in the face.

Photographs of you from different times of your life. Some when you were just a regular teenager, some when you found yourself in a world of trouble - an ex-boyfriend introducing you to a life of excessive drinking and smoking. Then a connection between you and the night, had you known those evenings of temporary bliss would have lead you to something much deeper and much darker then you probably would take it all back.

You started singing from place to place, but at first it was not a job. It was a hobby that gave you an excuse to indulge in all the things that came with it. A free drink or two, a little standing ovation, a cloud of cigarette smoke — but what mattered the most to you was pleasing your boyfriend at the time. Acceptance was addicting, and you found that he was easy to please for as long as you said yes to everything he wanted you to do.  

It started with a small roll of something you thought was like a regular cigarette, your ex-boyfriend had passed it onto you - telling you to take a little inhale. Then it turned into something else, powders, injectables. All of them forcefully given to you. 

You did not like it. At first you did, but as you found yourself lost to it— an overstimulation that took over— you wanted to escape it.

But as unlucky as you were, you did not realize that your ex-boyfriend had lead the operation. A twisted take at a business operation, leading a drug cartel into a small town - he said it was overflow from the city. You found out that he planned to turn you into a mule of sorts, wanting to stuff supplies into your body if he got you so pliant— making big shipments through you, an unsuspecting thing, so he could climb up the hierarchy of crime lords. 

Before it was too late, before you could lose yourself entirely to addiction or his control, you packed your bags and took off. It was to your luck that you were more observant than necessary; you now understood that in some way you would always be connected to this type of life.

Dealers knew you, some other people who made transactions with your ex knew you— you were now a face that rang up their memories. Regardless of what you did before or what you would end up doing after, you were part of this world even if it did not want you. 

So you made friends with some of the people around him, and it got you familiar with all the sorts of ideas to get away as safely as you could. Your voice was the ticket out, a club at a few towns far enough from where you came from.

A neutral territory, was how it was said to you.

It would not keep you out of the circulation, but it would keep you safe. Give you an air of peace at least. 

So now, looking at a file on your entire history, that you knew Mingyu had and owned. It sent a huge pang of betrayal across your chest. Like it was you who had been shot, but by something more painful than anything you could physically imagine.

So you try to look through all the other envelopes- some files on other people working in the club, some of Jennie and Minnie. Other patrons at the Rouge, some part of other organized groups. Some documents about the circulating drug trade. 

All of these things you were running away from was just stored away at the bedroom you found the escape of love in. 

The last thing you look into is the metal box already unlocked. A shiny, gold plated badge is there, sitting atop a leather case. Next to it a police-issued gun, not that you knew it was specifically police— but you were familiar with the type of firearm men-in-uniforms were given. Except this one was a little more complicated; a silencer attached to its muscle.

Then you notice it, a dry seal from a government office right outside the manila envelopes you went through. If only you could shriek, but you keep yourself quiet. 

Mingyu was part of something else entirely, and it made you even more scared to have known more now than knowing less before.

Then it clicks, Jennie had mentioned it before. They didn’t hide how they wanted to stop the drugs from coming into this town - and it did seem like no other organized group wanted that to happen either. 

The Rouge was worth looking into; neutral territories typically meant unregulated grounds. Maybe they wanted to look into you because it wasn’t so hard to dig up on your history, and by the way things were pinned at— you were at the top of their list.

It is now that you decide to leave not because you had anything you had to hide, but because you cannot handle secrets like this. And you did not know how much any of this was real anymore. 

So you quickly round up anything you owned, not bothering to hide how you left his treasure trove of intel either.

You wanted him to know that you knew. 

You knew he would try to come after you. Not because you thought it of his nature as an agent or a cop… or whatever he actually was… but because of this impending gut feeling pounding from your chest and swelling at your throat.

So it takes you a good two hours of adrenaline to have everything settled. 

Material objects are no longer of any sentiment to you, it’s something you learned to acquire when you first ran away. You kept everything essential; traveling light meant traveling fast - and it would be easier for you to disappear because quick travelers come in fast and unnoticeably transient than most. 

You wanted to not have any second thoughts and leave before the sun set, but you couldn’t do that. Your apartment only cleared of things you thought necessary, and your landlord was more than use to people just leaving without prior notice. To your own shock, it was easy leaving Mingyu’s house and not taking a quick glance back.

But the one place you had to say goodbye to was the club, and the friends you made there. Though the feeling of your own safety was a mere illusion, it made you feel at ease for the year you stayed.

“Sorry, it just has to be this way.” You tell Jennie and Minnie, who take your sudden departure much easier than you thought they would.

“Trust me, if we had the chance to leave this place, we would too.” Jennie just comments, offering you a sorry smile.

“Just, try to keep in touch, okay?” Minnie says, and you nod.

“Not for a while,” You say and they understand immediately, “maybe when my absence becomes normal. I’ll call.” They give you one last hug before letting you go.

“You can take one last breath of this place before you go. Only if you want to.” Jennie suggests and you nod. It wouldn’t be a hassle to walk around with only one suitcase in your possession, and maybe there were a few things you needed to pick out from your vanity backstage.

The club is not busy at all. There were only the staff here at this hour, too early for any patrons to be welcomed inside. So the place was eerily quiet, more lit up and empty than you were used to than when it peaked at night. 

You make your way down to the dressing room, only a long dark corridor before you closed the door gently behind you— but the time was perfect enough for you to hear loud conversation from where you’d just come from at the heart of the club.

“Is she here?” You knew Mingyu’s voice so perfectly well by now, and so you position yourself as close as you can to the dressing room’s door - sticking as still and has close as you could to the wall even if you felt your heart drop.

“No, it’s too early for her to be.” Jennie answers him, and you can hear the way he’s trying to catch his breath. “Hasn’t she been staying with you?” 

“She— Y/N, she left.” He only says, and it’s unfortunate that no matter how lost he sounds you know that your friends won’t tell him anything.

“I don’t know, feel free to look around, it’s not like she’ll fall from the roof.” Minnie says and you hear their footsteps.

“God man, you’re so fucking stupid!” Mingyu whispers to himself, and it sounds clear as day when he walks along the corridor to your dressing room. Of course he knew about it, you two had gone here when you first kissed him.

You practically feel the way the walls vibrate when he punches them, not knowing you were there - holding your breath when you felt how near he was.

But he took a pause right outside the door, his voice so close for you to hear. 

“This is my fault. Falling in love on the fucking job, and not being honest.” He sobs, and you don’t know what you’re feeling but it’s something akin to heartbreak— to sadness. 

You gravitate towards the backdoor.

You had to go. 

Mingyu enters the dressing room, trying to recall the layout of the place to the best of his knowledge. There is no one there, not that he can see or sense, although he was always heavily guarded - he had little hope anyone would be in this very room.

He makes his way to your vanity, it seemed untouched. But nothing here was anything you needed to bring with you, that was something he noticed when you chose things to bring from his house and your apartment.

He’s lost you.

And as he lingers longer, he smells it. Bergamot and basil.

Your perfume is still in the air.

You’ve been here.

He was too late. 

------------------------------------------------

author's note: let me know what you think!

[gyaruhana]

HELLO MY DEAREST!!

May I PLEASE request headcanons for Kang Dae-Ho with preg!reader? Could be an au or not, up to you, whatever you'd prefer

My guy is UNDERRATED and I love him very much he is my husband <3

(Also could there maybe be a small portion abt the birth? If your comfortable with that only though!!)

Kang Dae-ho/Player 388 - Pregnant!reader headcannons

Synopsis: Daeho headcannons for when you're pregnant..

A/N: tried my best with this one !! hopefully it's good

Warnings: none

NOT IN THE GAMES:

➠ it's no secret that daeho is a total sweetheart

➠ got super excited the moment you found out you were pregnant

➠ secretly wants a girl (it's not a secret)

➠ absolutely talks to your stomach all the time

➠ Like he'll just randomly kneel in front of you and start talking to your stomach even if you're barely pregnant

➠ also kisses your stomach so much

➠ because he's such a sweetheart, he's there for ALL your pregnancy cravings no matter how weird

➠ he will literally run to the supermarket to get whatever you're craving for

➠ Highkey gets emotional with you

➠ like if you start crying out of nowhere he starts crying too

➠ and then you're both just there crying your hearts out on the couch

➠ do expect him to refuse to let you do anything that might be bad for the baby

➠ Not like he wasn't doing this before but he always cooks for you

➠ cooks twice as much because he's convinced you need to eat twice as much for the baby too

➠ he wants to know the gender the moment he's able to but if you don't want to know then he won't ever mention the gender

➠ just to really hide it, he buys both girl and boy baby clothes so you'll never know

➠ he may have brought too many toys for the baby honestly..

➠ He says it's because he "doesn't know what the baby wants" so he should "get everything" so your child can have "a range of options and never be sad"

➠ (He's overthinking about what toys to get)

➠ got an idea to buy one of those pregnancy simulator things so he could get an idea of the pain when you'll give birth and regretted it so bad

➠ Became a million times more doting afterwards because he is so stressed for you

➠ The closer you get to your due date, the more panicked and stressed he gets

➠ He's always watching you because he's scared that the baby will come any second now

➠ When the day finally comes and you're just in the hospital, he's by your side and holding your hand

➠ he's lowkey sweating

➠ he may have watched a few videos on birth and he's not looking forward to seeing it in real life..

➠ he still stays by your side though because he wants to be there for you

➠ he is highkey freaking out when you're giving birth because you're practically crushing his hand in yours and you're obviously in pain and that scares him so bad ..

➠ he just hates seeing you in pain so much

➠ do expect him to cry after you finally give birth

➠ he is just so eager to hold the baby in his arms but he waits for you to do it first

➠ totally fell in love with you all over again even if you look like an absolute mess right now

➠ Overall, best dad ever and i don't think anybody expected anything less

IN THE GAMES:

➠ Moment he sees you he just knows your pregnant

➠ He must have some sixth sense when it comes to you or something

➠ so panicked and nervous because what if something happens to you??

➠ can not stomach the idea of something happening so he's immediately keeping you close to him

➠ very cautious of other people who he hasn't already bonded with

➠ Always taking care of you

➠ shares his food and drink with you because he's convinced you need it more than he does

➠ every single game he's by your side

➠ always making you lean onto him for support if you have to run

➠ Honestly might even pick you up and carry you himself just so you don't hurt yourself

➠ asks you how you feel after every game

➠ when it's lights out, he whispers the cutest things while in front of your stomach

➠ he just finds it to be so comforting to talk to the baby

➠ always promises you that you'll all make it out alive and he'll give you and the baby the best life he can

➠ Overall, still a sweetheart but also very afraid for you and the baby..

"Are you okay? Nothing's wrong, right?" Daeho asks as he sits by you. He had been incredibly worried for you the moment his eyes landed on you during the first game. He could just tell you were pregnant and that scared him so much considering you were trapped here - a place where you could lose your life at any moment. The idea put him on a constant edge and he spent every waking second by your side to keep you safe. He knows he'd never be able to forgive himself if something happened to you so he promised both himself and you that he'll get the two of you out of here and find a nice place to live where you can raise the baby. "If anything feels wrong, tell me, okay?"

[soularsss]

Drawing Likeness: with Tem!

okaay since a few people actually showed interest in me sharing a bit of what I've been doing to figure out how to really capture likeness, specifically Temuera Morrison, I figured id do my best to write it out

I am also going to entice you with some of my recent clone art! (oooh some of it is unreleaaasedd)

I am putting the whole thing under the cut because I have a feeling its going to be long:

Read more!!!

a couple disclaimers before we start

-This is not some definite post about how everyone should be drawing clones, nor is it in any way claiming that this is the right way. This is just my musings as I stare at a mans face for way too long and try to replicate it

-I am inexperienced. As kind as you all are to me, drawing real people is relatively new to me, capturing a persons identity through their features is difficult for anybody, and I am no different. I have watched many a video on likeness and had my share of classes, but If im being honest, i rarely put it into practice successfully. So there'll probably be errors in this post or things i will come back to in a few months and wish I had said/done differently

ANYWAYs you guys get my vibe im just here to ramble and today we are rambling about mr copy paste. I am doing this for Law, my clone boy, because I plan on delving further into oc fanart and I want to put effort into representing him correctly!

SO LETS BEGIN

Before even deciding what specific pose of a person I want to draw, I tend to grab a bunch of references and compile them like so

(all of these can be found on my pinterest)

Why so many? Well, we are about to delve into facial features, so when we are dealing with photos we have to take into account that there are an abundance of circumstances that will influence how a persons face will appear, some of these include:

focal length: All of these are taken on different devices, and focal length can play a big part in distorting faces

age will play a part, your face changes a bunch throughout your life!

lighting, while not as major, can muddy the waters and make it difficult to interpret facial planes and features

SO, to make sure we get a proper grasp of what's really going on, I like to make sure we have lots of options to compare and contrast with.

Next up! What I like to do is block out the main facial features with colour on different layers, the features I block out usually are the general face shape, eyebrows, eyes, nose and lips. But what you are looking for is the defining features of a person, so that could include other things! Maybe a scar, or some particularly prominent cheekbones.

I dont have any rhyme or reason when it comes to picking my colours, all that matters is you can see all the shapes clearly.

Now I may be biased, because Ive been staring at these for 4 hours, but notice how it still looks like Tem? :D

Anyways, now we can break these parts down, and you'll see what I mean about compare and contrast:

We'll start with isolating the facial shape, putting all these next to eachother you'll notice they arent exactly the same (partly because of my shoddy work) But the distinguishing features run through each shape! Namely the very soft rectangular shape I sketched out in the bottom right there. Along with his soft, wide jaw structure.

I did the same for the rest of his features!

You'll notice I highlight the prominent shapes and ratios,

When drawing anything, it is important to start from the very base shapes and build up.

When drawing something you want to look like someone, those shapes relative to other shapes is what makes it look like them.

I didnt use the same technique with his eyes and lips, but I wrote out some helpful info for them! More importantly for his eyes.

When drawing eyes, I find the most important part is where exactly I draw the creases, (along with the overall shape of the eye itself) it is important to understand where those will present themselves with hooded eyes.

NOW, with an understanding of his facial features in place, lets take a detour to colours:

before I start, a couple things to note:

-Temuera morrison versus the clone troopers in the animated shows:

While I love the animated shows they don't exactly stay close to their source material. Im going to link here to an excellent post discussing whitewashing specifically in relation to the clones.

Temuera is Māori, of Te Arawa (Ngāti Whakaue) and Tainui (Ngāti Maniapoto, Ngāti Rarua) whakapapa, and also has Scottish and Irish ancestry.

The Māori people are the indigenous Polynesian people of mainland New Zealand (Aotearoa). Māori originated with settlers from East Polynesia. Māori people often vary in skin tone, Skin colour doesn't determine ethnicity. There's often a correlation but it's not a requirement.

But that is a tangent! What we are aiming for is to stay true to Temuera.

Bringing back my reference photos from before, Ive colour picked a buncha values and theyre all over the place. Why doesnt this work?

Similarly to earlier, you have to take into account the photos themselves. Many things like lighting, colour grading (when it comes to filmography) and makeup, can alter how a skin colour presents in photo.

You can attempt to get true to life by swatching from certain places on the face. Here I've tried to pick some photos with good lighting, and I've also tried to avoid overly lit/shaded areas.

Tem has a very warm, tan skin tone, Instead of colour picking I tend to try and replicate it myself, but I do often bring in references to make sure Im staying true to the source!

a brief intermission to talk about colour theory, something I myself struggle with alot. Often, when putting in flat colours without a background, I will forget to make sure the colours i intend to use will work with the skin tone i have picked! (something that is apparent in older works of mine, not just in relation to clones, but in general, the colours I end up with stray largely from their original sources and it is something I am doing my best to keep in mind and improve in! Although I don't think i am nearly experienced enough in the topic to say I have succeeded yet lol.)

anyways back to Tem :))

Now we can put all of that into practice! Things to keep in mind when drawing out a piece next to a reference like this:

the distance between the eyebrows? how far down his face does his nose go? Basically just, in relation to eachother, where do all those shapes we found earlier, sit?

The screenshot above is from before I did it myself, but instead of directly tracing from the reference, a handy trick I use it to complete your sketch first, and then overlay a traced version to see where your inconsistencies are! Alternatively, you could move your sketch over the image, but I didnt do it that way so!! uh!! im sure it works exactly the same!!!!

When it comes to a final illustration, or any sketch that isnt a direct study, of course you can push and pull and stylise! You'll see below that I'm not exactly 1:1 to my reference photo either.

The important thing with stylisation, or at least my own personal understanding of stylisation is that you need to thoroughly understand the thing you are stylizing! "You need to know the rules to break them" and all that. While shapes, lines and rendering can change, when it comes to drawing someone, and making it look like them, you have to make sure to keep their core features true to source. Caricature can capture a persons vibe whilst drastically exaggerating features, but it will only look like them if you KEEP THOSE FEATURES!!!! SHAPES!!! AHHH!!

But that is just my perspective on the discussion of style versus realism, please dont take is as Law, I dont know what Im on about half the time!!

anyways, after fixing your sketch, add local colours!

I rexified him because why tf not! But this is where you can go crazy with that clone personalization!

And then here is a very very barely rendered version (if you guys want me to explain how i RENDER that would need to be a completely different post, and I havent had anyone ask about it yet so who knows! maybe one day) But I digress, hopefully you learnt something new through my ramblings! It has certainly helped me organize my thoughts and I have also found some areas I would like to focus more on in the future to improve my own art!

TLDR: In order to understand an object, be it a face or a building or literally anything, you have to break it down to its simplest forms, understanding LARGER shapes will help you immensely in the long run

If you guys like this sorta content do let me know! I'd be down to do similar things for armor/anything really, I am very anti gatekeep so really anything at all you want to know! Send me an ask :))

also if you see a spelling mistake.. i don’t know how that got there

[mrs-monaghan]

Not to go into detail and make this long but I remember how a while ago, I was in your blog and I came across you saying;

But, it is of my personal opinion that if they broke up it would destroy JK. Jimin would be heartbroken and devastated too but it would hit JK harder.

And now that we found out Jungkook was the one to sign up for the buddy system and wrote Jimins name for who he wanted to be his partner.

https://x.com/thekmlogic/status/1881424425972814167?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

And it really does prove your point to a whole other level. Not that I needed another reason to believe it but because this type of love doesn’t exist for “just friends” and I’ll never know why or how people don’t see it.

We seen how deeply not having Jimin there effected Jungkook. The man was crying on live..

They went on vacations for AYS together, even back to Juju Island again, without V. Who knows about Busan after the last Juju trip.

They could last 18 months away from friends, family, ARMY, but never each other.

That’s why they’re still out and about together even on vacation.

https://x.com/stopkookminpls/status/1882055760152347025?s=46&t=DiZ6pHHxW3ahpd70quaKnA

Vmin. JiHope. Namkook. JinKook.

(My baby, Yoongi isn’t an option.)

So many close friends in BTS who could have went together. Nobody but Jikook went together. Is that not a sign something is different compared to the others?

Anybody could have went with Namjoon seeing how bad he’s struggling to be happy but no.. At the end of the day, this is just more proof on how real their relationship is.

Oh yeah! 1300% So many reasons to believe in Jikook but enlisting together... that was... that was definitely something. From what I've heard, K-taekookers stopped existing after get out of your imagination happened. Then we lost more vermin after GCF. Matter of fact many of them became jkkrs. (Unfortunately that's also when so many more were created thanks to tkk-lives, but whatever) Then more were lost after Rosebowl. And some more left after the talk during ITS 1. and of course we lost a good number after the Taennie walk in Paris. A few more left after AYS dropped but not enough stopped shipping tkk when Jikook enlisted together. But if you ask me, this is what should have had them all leaving fr fr. This... enlisting together was no small fit. Not only has it never been done before, but they really didn't have to. You know? Like u said, RM too should have enlisted with a member if it doesn't carry as much weight as we jkkrs think it does. Know it does.

It was a huge risk they took but they did it anyway because to them it was necessary.

JIKOOK👏🏽IS👏🏽MOTHERFUCKIN👏🏽REAL!!!👏🏽

So, anon is talking about this post. And while there are deeper reasons connected with their enlistment, we already know how bored JK can be without Jimin. We've seen it

(Thanks @chicknbunny13 😘)

Sidebar: boyfriend V is right there on his phone doing nothing and yet, JK is bored out of his mind. Hmm 🤔✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽✍🏽

We've seen it with every single time he came live only when Jimin left the country, talking about how he got bored and missed us.

JK is a lying liar who lies 😂 but we forgive him. If I had a Jimin I would do the same 🤣

So back to your tweet, anon. My friends and I did suspect that that's what the numbers on their helmets meant

But there was no way to be sure. All we knew to be fact was that it had to have been JK's idea.

What i love about being a Joker is that, we are never wrong. We have earned the right to be cocky. You know what I mean?

It's what happens when you actually stan the real couple. Couples, have patterns. That's why the vermin are always changing their stories... nothing about being a tkkr is consistent. Their theories change overnight depending on what they discover or decide to make up that day.

Meanwhile, Jikook are predictable because they are the true couple. And that's why when we make guesses we are rarely ever wrong.

Thanks for the tweets anon. Support Jikook for clear skin

Damn, they're fine as hell!

[marlynnofmany]

Names Chosen Carefully

I swung into the spaceship’s kitchen with plans to grab a snack before unpacking the bags from our latest supply run, but I paused. Coals was there showing Eggskin a screen of color swatches, and it didn’t look like a menu. Could have been something medical, since Eggskin handled both the feeding and the healing of the crew, though the conversation I’d walked in on said no.

“Vehicles are an option, but I don’t know what kind are popular there,” Coals said. He acknowledged me with a nod. “And an unfavorable skimmer model would be almost as bad as an activity that’s culturally iffy.”

Eggskin was nodding thoughtfully, tapping a claw against their lizardy chin. “The activities are probably easier to research. But I do think that either a generalized space theme or something referring to home would be the way to go.”

“Yeah, but which?” Coals asked with a sigh, staring at the handscreen. “Space might be too common, or trying too hard, and home stuff might not make sense to anyone there, including the kids.”

I must have looked like a confused dog, standing there with my head cocked. Coals took pity on me. “My cousin wants advice on what to name his clutch when it hatches,” he said, holding out the handscreen. Up close, I could see that each color swatch was scales. “This is their best guess about the likely colors.”

“Ohh,” I said. “Got it.”

Eggskin asked Coals, “Are they familiar with nearly-hatched eggs, and color distortion? Many new parents guess wrong.”

I reflected that Eggskin, whose full name was “Skin of the Egg that is Translucent and Ready to Hatch,” had probably thought about the concept pretty often. Their own scale color looked more like boogers than any egg I’d ever seen, but I’d never been privy to a Heatseeker hatching. I assume other colors would show through.

Coals nodded his brick-red snout. “They live near family. Plenty of chances to observe. And he’s been there for brainstorming names on the ol’ home planet, and his mate has too, but that’s not very helpful now.” He glanced up at me. “They just moved to a space station.”

“Are there not many Heatseekers there?” I asked.

“A few, but it’s a very intercultural place. That’s why they wanted my opinion, since I travel around so much. Thought I might have some valuable insights.”

I leaned against a counter, trying not to loom. “What have you got so far?”

Coals sighed deeply. “A lot of doubts. References to home could be great, but they might just be confusing to everyone. What kind of names would you expect to hear with these?” He showed me the screen again.

I was about to object that I was hardly an expert on Heatseeker names, then the palest one caught my eye and I laughed. “Humans would nickname that one Popcorn,” I said, pointing at the white-and-yellow image.

“Popcorn?” Coals looked at it. “What is—”

“It’s food,” I said. “A popular snack from Earth. I wouldn’t expect that to be anybody’s real name though; it’s much too whimsical and silly. Well. At least with my cultural background.”

Coals and Eggskin both looked at the colors without saying anything for a long moment. Then Coals turned the screen to me again. “Would humans of your background have food associations for the others too?”

“Well,” I said, wondering whether I was just hungry. “That one looks exactly like mint chip ice cream. Oh, and that one’s cookie & cream.” They really were; it was uncanny. “I didn’t know you guys had scale patterns with that many speckles.”

“You should see my cousin,” Coals said. “He looks like a starfield. His mate is a simple dark maroon, though. Between the two of them, the genetics are all over the place. What about these other three?”

I looked at the brown-with-red, the yellow-speckled-brown, and the deep purple. “Red velvet cake, dijon mustard, and plum. Or maybe grape. But that doesn’t make as good of a nickname. You aren’t actually going to suggest these, are you? Naming the kids after another planet’s food seems like everyone might expect them all to be familiar with that planet. Pretty sure a couple of those foods might actually be poisonous to you, too.” I flicked a glance at Eggskin, who was thankfully nodding in agreement.

“Naming a child after a toxic foreign food would do them no favors,” Eggskin said. “An adult might wear such a name proudly, but I would fully expect a youth to be pressured into eating their namesake at some point, especially if they lived somewhere it was readily found.”

I nodded too, looking to Coals.

“But,” Coals said. “It doesn’t have to be foreign food.”

I started to ask what he meant, then suddenly remembered a bit of cultural trivia. “It’s good luck to name spaceships after food, right? Does that go for people too?”

Eggskin chuckled while Coals stared intently at the colors. “It can,” Eggskin said. “It’s rather bold, though. An audacious claim that a set of parents can confer enough luck on all their offspring for them to always have food available. Very daring.” They looked at Coals with an amused expression, which Coals didn’t look up to see.

“That fits my cousin surprisingly well,” he said instead.

I smiled. “Are there Heatseeker foods that would fit these colors?”

“I can think of several.” Coals changed the screen to a text field and began typing. “This is perfect. Thank you so much.”

“Happy to help!” I said.

Eggskin suggested, “Be sure to remind them they should research any food they’re considering, and find out what associations their new neighbors are likely to have. Some things translate terribly.”

“No kidding!” I laughed, standing up and moving toward the snack cabinet. “I still remember the spaceships Worm Jerky and Raw Flesh.”

~~~

These are the ongoing backstory adventures of the main character from this book.

Shared early on Patreon! There’s even a free tier to get them on the same day as the rest of the world.

The sequel novel is in progress (and will include characters from these stories. I hadn’t thought all of them up when I wrote the first book, but they’re too much fun to leave out of the second).

[disgustingtwitches]

**MDNI**

"The closest to heaven we'll ever get"

Saw a lot of stuff about Simon helping out a s*x worker. Anyways, it reminded me of a personal experience I had so... Here I am 😃

5.5k words

*This is kind of Simon needing company and being a weirdo who needs constant validation.

Not gonna lie, it gets blasphemous at the end!

~

I always played around with the idea of being an escort. I was offered to do things while working in the strip club, but I always turned it down. I was spending every dollar I made because I could always make more, right? But when I broke up with my ex and realized I didn't have the credit or rental history to get my own place, I started panicking. The only option was to put down at least three months rent cash upfront, to even be considered. Suddenly, money was drying up at the club for me, my regulars were being whisked away by girls who would do more for less. I couldn't really get mad, it's just a part of the game really. So I knew what needed to be done.

I hit up one of my girlfriends and told her that I needed the extra cash and what I was willing to do for it. She helped me set up a website, took professional photos of me, made me business cards. The whole nine yards. Now all I had to do was wait. About a week in, I finally get my first client. It was awkward and surprisingly, both of our first times in this situation. I was sent back home in a black car and a few hundred bucks richer for just 30 minutes of my time. I felt a rush I never felt before.

As the months rolled by, the money came. Luxury was the new standard for me. Designer everything, nice dinners, even nicer dates. To my surprise a majority of my clientele were, at most, 10 years older than me, and even more surprisingly, good looking. Finance bros, guys with daddy's money, or just men who had the money to spare. They always talked about how it was more fun and less work to hire me than get a girlfriend. To get a pretty girl in their arm to parade around that wouldn't bicker and give them a hard time at the end of the night. No feelings attached, just company and good sex.

So here I am Saturday night. Instead of going out to the club like a normal woman my age in Manhattan should be doing. I am in my hotel. Waiting for a call or text from someone. Anybody. My hair in rollers, makeup half done. Just waiting. My phone lights up, a text coming in:

Hi, Gia. Was interested in spending an hour with you tonight, 11pm.

I smiled to myself. Finally, someone who reads my ad properly. Follows the instructions on what to text to me. Straight to the point.

Wonderful, just need a picture of your ID or passport.

I reply. Always a rule my girlfriend drilled into my head. Safety first. If they don't do it, then what could they be planning? Anything goes bad and all you have is a name that couldn't even be real. Any client worth your time understands your safety is a priority. So this was my way of feeling safer. A moment passes before my phone dings again.

A picture of a passport, full name and age. Along with a picture. He's cute. A little older than what I usually get but I'm not complaining. I quickly look him up, nothing out of the ordinary. Good.

Great. Thank you, Simon. I'll send an address for you to send a car at 10:20. Reach out to you then❤️

Before I start to get ready he texts,

Wear something casual.

Not an odd request. Actually most clients prefer it. Want more of a girlfriend vibe rather than an escort. I finished getting ready, helping myself to a glass of wine. Playing my usual bad bitch songs, it helped me turn into the woman I needed to be- from me to Gia.

10:25 rolls around. I get a screenshot of the Uber from him. 5 minutes out. I grab my purse and strut out of my hotel, to a nearby park. Never give your real address. Always make sure you're not being followed.

A black SUV pulls up, I slide in. Exchange pleasantries with the driver and I'm off. Headed to midtown. I share my location with a friend and how long I should be gone. My phone goes off.

Walk into the building and head to the elevators on the left. 36th floor. Apt. 4A.

I nod to myself before shooting a text of confirmation.

Got it. See you soon ;)

I pull up to the building, it's huge. Nicer than most places I've been. He must have some serious cash. I walk into the building and follow the directions he gave me. A little adrenaline rushes through me as I walk up to the door, always did when meeting someone new. I knock. He almost immediately opens the door, as if he was standing in front of it. Waiting.

Simon!

I say with a wide smile. He steps aside as I walk in, looking around. Nice place. Really nice place. Ceiling to floor windows, minimalist decor, the lovely smell of something masculine and expensive. He looks me up and down as I turn to him.

You look just like your pictures.

His voice is deep, alluring, unreadable. Sends a chill up my thighs that shoots straight to my core.

You do too.

I reply playfully. A small twitch plays at the corner of his mouth before disappearing. His face inscrutable. I shimmy off my coat before he takes it, hanging it up in a closet near the entrance. I wait for him to move. He stands, hands in his pockets, studying me. An awkward minute passes before he walks to the living room. I follow.

Really nice place you got here.

I try to make the moment more comfortable.

Hm.

He responds. He wasn't like the other men I've seen before. They are sociable, or at least try to be. I take a seat on the couch next to him, our knees barely touching.

Money's there.

He gestures to an envelope on the table. I nod, grabbing it.

Do you mind if I...?

I ask, opening it up. He nods and stands to pour himself a drink. My eyes widen. This is more than my usual rate. Much more. I'm quiet, trying not to show my shock.

Was hoping to do an overnight, if that's alright.

It was less of a question and more of a statement from him. It was more than enough for a night. I nodded.

Of course, I do wish you would've told me; I would've packed a bag.

I smiled, putting the envelope down on the table. I grab my phone and update my friend on how long I'd be gone for. I put away the phone quickly and look up at him. God, was he hot. And the way he carried himself made him even hotter, so nonchalant. He shrugged, sipping his drink before sitting next to me again, some space between us.

How long you been doing this?

He stares at me, gaze so intense I squirm a little.

Just a few months.

We're quiet again. Usually I try to carry a conversation if the other party can't hold one, but he makes me nervous. I talk again, asking mundane questions. It's like pulling teeth trying to have small talk with him. Maybe he's just not much of a talker.

I scoot closer to him, our knees barely touching. He puts his drink down, and rests his arms on the back of the couch. I lean in closer to him, resting my hand on his thigh before kissing his lips. He kisses back softly. We exchange light, almost timid kisses for awhile. He finally moves. A hand reaching up to grab at my hair, gently pulling. I moan faintly and that seems to set him off. He grabs me by the throat, not hard, just enough to stand me up and guide me to his bedroom; our kisses getting more intense. We strip each other of our clothes. I unbuckle his pants and pull them down, it feels like I'm opening a gift on Christmas. He's big. I smile up at him. He just looks down vacantly. I pull down his boxers and his erection springs up, tip drooling. He opens a drawer next to the bed, pulling out a condom and rolling it on himself.

Lay back.

He commands. I obey, opening my legs. I've done this so many times before, but this time it's different. As unceremoniously as he's treating this, I can't be more excited. His body is amazing, tattoos and scars just adding to the mysterious aura. His natural scent drives me wild. I look up to him as he crawls over me, lining himself up with me. He gives a couple lazy slaps on my slick. I take a sharp breath. He watches as he slides himself in, I tense up. Most guys are well... average. And he's well... much more than that.

Relax.

He huffs. Sliding himself in more, not giving me any time to adjust. I grip the bedsheets, clenching my jaw. I stare up at him, he doesn't even look at me. His face emotionless as he watches himself slide in and out. I try to unclench, opening myself up more to him.

Mhm...

He grunts. My nipples harden at his voice. I moan as he slams into my cervix repeatedly. It makes him shoot his eyes up at me, glaring into mine. His eyes dark pools, intense. He roughly hooks his arms under my knees, pushing them up to my chest. He digs even deeper into me as I whimper. He takes quick, shallow breaths.

You're so deep.

I say panting, the breath getting knocked out of me. I reach out to touch his muscular arms. He grunts and pounds harder into me. I throw my head back, whining. Trying to not wince in pain. He slows for a moment, pulling back, keeping my legs on his shoulders as he slides in and out. My breasts bounce up and down with each thrust.

You're hot.

A hint of emotion in his voice, he reaches down to knead my chest. My face gets hot. I tighten around him.

Fuck...

He makes a sound that almost resembles a moan. I smile up at him, almost proud of making him show any emotion. He looks down at me, a flicker in his eyes, a small smirk on his face that leaves as quickly as it came. He parts my legs and rubs at my clit in rough circles. I squirm under him.

Say my name.

He orders. His strokes picking up as I get used to him.

Simon~

As soon as his name leaves my lips, a deep rumble from his chest fills my ears. He leans over me, arms on either side of my head. I reach up to run my hands up and down the back of his neck.

Say you love me.

His request takes me aback. I pull him closer, my lips just under his ear.

I love you~

He immediately tenses up and takes a heavy breath. I could feel him twitch inside me as he finishes. He pulls away quickly, going to the bathroom to throw out the condom and clean up. He brings back a wet towel, wiping me down.

What's your name?

His tone as flat as ever.

Gia.

I responded. I know what he's actually asking me. Never, ever tell a trick your real name. Hell, he shouldn't even know your real age.

You know what I mean.

He glares at me. I shift awkwardly. Don't do it. He doesn't say a word, just stares in a way that makes me uncomfortable. Why should he know your real name anyways? I tell him my name. Stupid. Fucking dumbass. I kick myself. He nods and slides into some sweats, throwing me his shirt.

Let's watch something.

I throw on his shirt. Now this is what I'm used to. Being a temporary girlfriend. Pretending to be affectionate. Giving much needed companionship. He splays out on the couch as I lay on top of him. He turns on the TV, resting a hand on my ass and squeezing it. Maybe this is why he hires girls. Because of how distant he is. The man can't even hold a conversation. He flicks on some show he was in the middle of, a business dramedy that I couldn't care less about. I rest my head on his chest and he runs his fingers through my hair. We're like this for a while, quiet.

Tell me you love me.

He says dryly, looking down at me. I look up and kiss him.

I love you, Simon.

He gets hard immediately, rubbing himself on me. He gets up, lifting me up effortlessly, and throws me on the bed. He lays on top of me, pinning me down onto the bed. Kissing me much more passionately this time, like he was trying to taste every inch of my mouth.

Keep saying it.

His voice gruff. He moves his kisses down to my neck, pawing at my bust.

I love you, Simon.

I moan. I wanted him so badly. I don't care how I got him, I just wanted to take him. Something about him made me go crazy, deep inside. He yanks up the shirt I was wearing, moving his kisses more and more south.

You fuck other people raw?

I shake my head. I might've been a whore, but I wasn't reckless.

Never.

He nods.

Can I eat you out?

I look down at him. Something about seeing him between my legs makes me wanna say yes. The way his eyes looks almost as if he's pleading, desperate. No way. Never do that.

Yes.

I allow him to keep going. What the fuck am I doing? Why am I allowing this? Before I can think more, he plunges his tongue between my lips. Lapping up desperately, burying his face into me. I roll my eyes back, running my fingers through his hair.

I love you, Simon.

I gasp. It's the only thing he wanted me to say. I saw something in him, the way he reacted when I said that, it made me want to stay in his place forever. To never leave. Make him happy. It's just the good head talking, you'll snap back to your senses afterwards. He moans so quietly I can barely hear it. Barely. My legs on his shoulders, his arms wrapped around my thighs. Digging fingers into the soft flesh. He sucks on my nub repeatedly. It's a tortuously delicious feeling. I grip his hair a little.

I love you, Simon.

I look down at him, watching him devour me. He looks up at me, his eyes showing an emotion I can't decipher. He moves one hand down to slide two fingers into me.

I love you, Simon.

I moan, throwing my head back and smiling.

Hmm...

He mumbled into my heat. Pumping in and out before bending his fingers in a way that presses against my sweet spot. I hiss, pleasure flashing through me like a strobe light. I'm dripping wet. He pulls his fingers out and plunges his tongue into my entrance, trying to suck out every drop of my juices.

You taste good.

Voice as flat as ever, as if he isn't lost in between my folds. He drags his tongue up between my lips, from my entrance to my nub again. He slips his fingers in again, pressing up against my sweet spot repeatedly. I get lost in the feeling. God I could stay like this forever. He looks up at me, like he's looking for validation.

I love you, Simon~

I slip out between heavy breaths. He picks up the pace of his fingers and tongue. My face gets hot as I get closer, grip his hair a little harder. He goes even faster, harder, almost feverant. I roll my eyes back, panting. I whimper before crying out, tightening around his fingers in a vice grip.

I love you, Simon~

I force the words from my throat as I spasm under him. He continues, seemingly determined to draw another climax out of me. I mewled, trying to push his head away. He was unmoving for an unbearable moment. The only sounds were my pants and his slurping.

I love you, Simon.

I wailed, almost hoping it'll make him stop. He does thankfully. He pulls away, tearing off his sweats, beating off himself. Staring at me, his gaze is intense as ever. He grabs me by the thighs and drags me into his lap. He continues to stroke himself, staring into my wet core as if he was hypnotized by it.

Can I...

He starts, almost knowing he shouldn't ask the question.

Can I fuck you raw?

His voice is uncharacteristically soft and unsure. I blink at him, mind racing. ABORT! ABORT! THIS IS LIKE RULE #1 IN HOE-ING!!! He looked so delicious from this angle, his eyes still glued on my wetness. ARE YOU INSANE?? NO!! His throbbing, beautiful dick is twitching.

...yes.

I nod. You're the dumbest person on the planet. I insult myself a million different ways in my head. A brief moment of regret is replaced with pleasure as he slides his tip teasingly in and out of me. His jaw clenches, chest rising and falling faster. His voice cracks as a moan escapes him, his eyebrows furrow.

I love you, Simon.

I stare at him, eyes half lidded. The smallest smile spreads across his face, still looking at himself entering me. He inches his way in. Pulling in and out, going deeper each time. I squeeze him, make him bite his lip.

That's good.

He stated, voice quavering. He clears his throat before grabbing one leg and lifting it to my chest, digging deep into me. I take a sharp breath in. He hovers over me, arms on either side of my head again. He slides in and out, slowly at first then picking up to a punishing pace. I whimper and wiggle under him. He grabs my face, forcing me to look into his eyes that bore into mine.

I love you, Simon.

I stare right back at him, passion shooting right out of my eyes. His eyes flutter for a moment before blinking back into his cold, unnerving self. He continues to dig himself into me, slamming and grinding himself into the deepest parts of me. It's a painfully addicting feeling. I take his hand and press it up against my lower stomach so he can feel how much he fills me. He clenches his jaw so hard, it looks like his head could pop.

I love you, Simon.

I whisper. He drops down on top of me, snaking his arms around and behind my back to grab my ass. His mouth right next to my ear, I can hear his fast and shallow breaths. Little groans that slip out every now and then. I wrap my arms around his neck, holding him tighter.

I love you, Simon.

I hear him groan under me as I said it again. He goes faster than before, pretty much jackhammering me into the mattress. My mouth is agape and head thrown back. Only grunts escape my throat as I get fucked senseless.

Mhm...like that?

His words bounce around in my empty head. I replay it in my head over and over until I clench around him, he doesn't stop though. It only seems to spur him on even more. His warm breath tickling my ear as it gets more ragged.

Keep saying it.

He demands through gritted teeth.

Fuck... I love you, Simon.

I squeak out the words. He huffs and continues to rampage my body.

Can I come inside you?

He asks- No, begs. No use in turning back now. Just the thought made me close again.

Yes.

I nod and he breathes harder and harder until he pleads in a strained voice,

Say it.

I wrap my legs around his waist, pulling him deeper inside me.

I love you, Simon~

He spills inside me. His stammered breaths and moans driving me crazy. The feeling of him pumping into me driving me over the edge. I pull him closer, practically squeezing him.

I love you, Simon.

I tenderly kiss the top of his head as he nuzzles into my neck.

How often do you do this?

My head clears, a wave of regret coming over me.

Never. I never even hired anyone before you.

He says in a way so sincere I honestly believe him. How do you know when a trick is lying? Their mouth is open. Rules. Rules to live by, to be able to survive doing what I do. Rules. They all meant nothing as soon as I laid eyes on him. Somehow saw this coming a mile away in the back of my head. He pulled away from my grasp, disappointment flooded me. He leaned back, opening my legs: watching both of our cum dripping out of me.

Say it.

His eyes so focused, as if he were trying to take a picture with his mind; so he would never forget this moment.

I love you, Simon.

I say with a tender smile. His dick jumps. Good lord is this man insatiable. He stands up and does the same routine as before, cleaning himself up and then me. He hands me his shirt:

Here.

I throw it on and he leads me to the bathroom, grabbing me by the shoulders and making me face the mirror. He gently pushes my back, I lean my elbows on the countertop. I stand on the balls of my feet, trying to get my hips to meet his. As I look in the mirror, his face looks almost tender watching me sway my hips.

I love you, Simon~

I sing softly. He bites his lip, entering me again. God, I never get used to the feeling. He grabs my hips and pulls me onto him, he bottoms me out. Groaning louder this time, he pulls my hair back so I'm looking directly at the mirror, locking eyes with him.

S'it, pretty girl...

A corner of his mouth upturned just enough to know he's enjoying himself. His words make me flutter around him. He groans and starts to pound into me. The bathroom is filled with the duet of our breaths and groans. He pulls my hair so my back is pressed against his chest. He rests a hand on my throat, squeezing just enough. Moves his lips to my neck, still sliding in and out of me.

You love me? Huh?

He grunts, warm breath on the pulse of my neck.

I love you. So much.

I moaned. I repeated the phrase so many times, it started coming out of my mouth naturally. He moved his hand from my hair to my lower stomach, pressing against it so he could feel himself hitting my walls.

You love this dick, yeah? Say it.

His voice getting more demanding and urgent. I nod and look at him through the mirror, smiling.

I love it, I love this dick so much, Simon~

He nips at my neck as he continues to fuck me. His nips turn into bites. Bites that definitely leave marks. I didn't care, that didn't matter right now.

You're never fucking leaving, you know that?

A threat that sounded like heaven to me. He could keep me chained to the bed and I wouldn't care, just as long as he kept fucking me like this. I giggled with excitement.

You like that, hm?

He smiles against my skin before continuing to lick and bite my neck.

I love it~

I truly did. It felt heavenly. Better than anyone I've ever had. Ever. Something felt so familiar about his touch. As if I belonged there.

I love you, Simon~

At this point I feel like I'm reciting a prayer, the words flowing out of me like a stream. I was melting in his arms.

Turn around, wanna see that pretty face.

I did so eagerly as he lifted me up on the counter and slid inside me. I smirked up at him. He, as always, was watching himself impale me.

Looks so pretty...

He seemingly mumbled to himself. He leaned down and pressed our foreheads together, a firm hand on the back of my head. Hitting a spot so deep inside me I never knew I had. We were like this for a long minute, sloppy sounds of our sex bouncing off the walls.

I love you, Simon.

I stared into his eyes. They seem to soften for a moment before he tightened the grip on the back of my neck. A huff, and then he came undone. He stayed inside me until he was soft. He pulls out and pushes his fingers into my cunt, stuffing his seed back into me.

Hm.

He grunts in a way that sounds like approval before helping me off the counter. He leads me to bed and slips under the covers.

In my arms.

Commanding as he usually does. I press my head against his chest, his heart beating hard and fast. He wraps an arm around me, his touch much gentler than before. I fall asleep. Not too sure if he does too.

Morning comes and I'm woken up by the sun shining in my face. Sitting up, I'm in his bed, still wearing his shirt. Alone. I walk out to the living room and see him setting up breakfast on the coffee table.

You made this?

I question, surprised.

Ordered it. Good morning.

He turns to me, shoving his hands in his pockets. He looks at me expectantly. I blink at him.

Good morning.

I say. He looks at me as if he was anticipating something else. I think for a moment before suddenly remembering.

I love you, Simon.

He steps to the side, inviting me to sit on the couch. I help myself to a seat and look at the plate in front of me. It's simple, French toast and eggs. I help myself.

Are you gonna eat anything?

I look at him quizzically. He shakes his head, staring like always. We're silent as I finish my plate. I grab my phone and check the time. Almost time for me to leave.

Can I book you for longer?

His voice is gruff. An underlying tone, pleading?

It'll be expensive.

I didn't want to say that. Wanted to say I'll stay as long as he likes. But I already made too many mistakes. Gotta get back on track.

I don't care.

Of course he didn't. He could probably buy me out for the rest of my life if he wanted to. He pulled out his phone, asking for my personal number so he could send the money straight to my bank account. Hesitantly I gave it to him. He probably could find out that stuff if he wanted to anyways. My phone dings, I check my bank app. My eyes pop out of my head. I look up at him bewildered.

How long would that get me?

He asks, as if he didn't send me an ungodly amount of money.

It's enough for a whole week...

Shock still overwhelming me.

You wanna stay that long?

He doesn't really ask. He knows I'll say yes. Doesn't even wait for my answer.

I'll let you get your things.

He throws some of his clothes my way and sends me back in a car to the hotel. I grab my bags and checkout. Is this really happening? A call from my girlfriend. I tell her about his extension. She says something about making sure he's not a serial killer. We laugh, tells me to have fun, don't fall in love. I scoff as if that was the stupidest idea I've heard. As soon as I know it I'm back at his place, he's grabbing bags from me, setting them to the side. Turning to me and running a hand up the side of my waist.

I love you, Simon.

We spend the whole week tangled up in each other. Taking a break before I say those four words and he has me pinned against a wall or over a dresser or kitchen counter. Any flat surface, really.

It's Saturday night and we're showering, cleaning off sweat and other bodily fluids from each other. His touch is so gentle, handling me like I was a piece of china. He liked me. It was obvious. Seemed like the only way he knew how to show it was by fucking me, though. I liked him too. Maybe not to the extent he did.

Seemed like he found something he needed for a long time. He was hungry. Famished. He couldn't just let go of me. He's not satiated yet. Don't know if he'll ever be. It was a looming feeling. Dark and heavy. A little scary. But it made me feel more desired than I've ever been before. And not just a carnal desire. It made me feel coveted.

We're laid up on his couch. Watching the show I didn't care for before, a little more invested. My phone lights up, buzzing. The name of a regular of mine across the screen in big bold letters. This is usually the time of the month he calls to set up a date. A reminder that this is all temporary. I let it go to voicemail. He tenses up. Jealousy and disappointment radiating off him.

How much for the whole month?

He doesn't even let me think of an answer before speaking again.

How much to make you quit for good?

I'm a little shook, sure I've heard it a dozen times before. Always said in jest. But he's serious. The few words he said, he always seemed to mean. No need to waste his breath beating around the bush. My heart races. I can feel his pound against mine. A number doesn't come to my head.

Let's just see how this goes.

He doesn't like that answer. He wants something solid. A promise that I'll never leave. More than a promise. But that's as good as he can get right now. There's a tense silence between us.

I love you, Simon.

The only thing I can think of saying right now. He takes hold of me, climbing into the bed and sits me in his lap. His back against the headboard.

C'mon love.

He says frigid. An underlying tone of disappointment and hurt. I slide myself down on him, a little more adjusted to his size now. He wraps strong arms around my waist, pulling me so close it seems like he wants to coalesce into my very being.

Give me a number.

A demand that seems more like a plea. We hold each other. Unmoving as he is still buried deep inside me.

Maybe it is a little toxic to spiral into the addiction to fast money. Maybe I'm a little sick of pretending to be the perfect woman. Maybe it is a little exhausting to be a fantasy and nothing more. Maybe it is a little lonely when it's just me lying in bed, when I have to comfort others. Where's my comfort in all of this? Where's my happiness in all of this? No more fake smiles. No more fake orgasms. No more fake feelings. I don't care if he's lying. I want to indulge in delusion. Even for a moment.

Ok.

I give in. He leans over, placing me on my back before adjusting himself on top of me. Touches my face, his showing an emotion that is genuine and staggering. Devotion? It feels like it.

I could almost cry, the way he takes me like I'm his. The way he talks to me like I'm not someone he hired. That didn't matter anymore. I wasn't an escort to him. I was his girl. The sex was different. Transcendant. Divine. Did I know I wanted to be saved? Of course I didn't know; for the life of sin and suffering is simply a thing to toil in until you are shown salvation. Every time he came, he baptized me. I was born again in his eyes, I was perfect and clean. Absolved of my sins.

He looked at me with so much adoration. I looked up at him, much in the same way Magdalene did to her Redeemer. He had turned a prostitute into a Saint. The unshakeable feeling of deliverance washed over as he touched me, no longer a leper. I was saved by him. His body. His sweat. His seed. Akin to taking Communion. The closest to heaven we'll ever get.

[gh0stsp1d3r]

ℳ𝒶𝓎𝒷𝒶𝓃𝓀𝓈 𝓈𝒾𝓈𝓉ℯ𝓇

Chapter 8- hate you too

Summary: Rafe is back at Tannyhill, taking care of “business.” Pope gets himself into some trouble, and you get to talk to Rafe again. But by doing so, you betrayed the pogues and your brother.

Series masterlist

“Look at you! You’re so grown up!” Big John told you, you gave him a smile and wrapped your arms around him. It had been a while since you’ve seen him.

Everyone celebrated big John’s return to the Chateau, JJ hopping on his back with a wide smile on his face.

JJ thought of him as the father he never had, whenever your guys dad used to hit him, he always had a place at the Chateau. You had even been there quite a few times, when it got real bad.

You all sat down now, listening to them explain everything.

“Yeah, yeah, so we, um… we went to the archive in Charleston, and, uh… it was a dead end. A dry hole.. so…”

“So that’s the gold, the cross, and now El Dorado. We’re there for three, guys.” Pope spoke, pausing. “The streak continues.” He scoffed. “That’s great.”

Pope and Kiara left, you looked at JJ and he stood up. You did as well, mostly because he was your only ride at the moment.

You got him a new bike with some of the money you saved, and you were fixing the car later.

“I’m going fishing. Thanks for the beer.”

“Yea, thank you. See you guys later.” You told them, giving John B and Big John a small smile before following him.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“The cross is not on the train, Rafe. It did not arrive. Somebody stole the cross.” Wards voice spoke over the phone.

“Oh my God, wait, who stole it?” Rafe spoke, feigning his confusion.

“I don’t know who stole it, Rafe!”

“That’s rough.. I- I mean it could’ve been anybody, really, right?”

“Not really, Rafe. It could be one of a very few people.”

“Well, I mean, you know, we were just giving it away anyway… so, who cares?” He shrugged. “Who cares?”

Ward exhaled, making Rafe have a smug smile on his face.

“Okay, Rafe, okay. That’s done for now. I need you to finish the list I gave you. I want you to… sign for the east river property, when that’s completed, shut down the offices-“

“Yeah, no, I- actually I wanted to talk to you about that. Uhm, I’m thinking maybe we should keep the offices.”

“..what?”

“Yeah, I’m thinking maybe I should stay down here for a while. You know, really grow the company. I think it’d be good for us, right!”

“Listen to me, Rafe-“

“No. No, no, no, you listen, okay?” He put himself on speaker. “You listening? You remember when you told me to make myself useful? Well, thats exactly what I’m doing. I’m making myself useful, alright? I can do shit, you know? Explore options… so for the benefit of all, I think I’m gonna hang out for a while, okay?”

“Rafe, listen to me, you are there for one reason. You are to act as my proxy to shut down the companies, okay? That is our one play, and if you cannot do it-“

“If I can’t do it? If I can’t do it, then what? Then what?” He shouted, “you gonna hop on a plane? Come down here? I mean- it’ll be like a goddamn Elvis sighting! Ward Cameron, everyone! Oh my God, he lives! He’s back from the dead!”

Rafe scoffed, looking down at the ring on his finger.

“I got the family ring now, Pops. Yeah, I’m wearing it, and it’s my time to step up, okay? You’re dead.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

You took a deep breath, raising your hand to knock on the door.

“Hold on!” Ricky shouted from inside, you heard rummaging before he came over and opened the door.

He looked at you, your eyebags dark, your clothes dirty and ruined, your expression tired.

“Holy shit.” He spoke, dropping whatever was in his hands before stumbling to pick it back up.

“I- i heard you were back and i tried texting you- but-“ he said with a laugh when you wrapped your arms around him.

“Broke and lost my phone.” You told him, smiling as you pulled away from the hug.

“Shit- uh, come in.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“And rumor has it, along with everything else, you stole that catamaran out there.”

“I didn’t s- I was with Sarah Cameron when i was on that boat. That’s their families boat!” He pointed.

“Not according to the registration. It’s Rafe’s boat, and he says you stole it. He’s keeping it here because he doesn’t want you around it.”

“Okay, Billy, come on. There’s got to be something.”

“I’m sorry kid.” Billy sighed out. “Guffy put the nix on it. Okay? I can find cheap help that doesn’t piss my clients off.” The phone started ringing and Billy glanced over. “I gotta go.” He sighed, leaving.

As JJ walked on the dock with tears begging to be let out, he heard a familiar voice shout.

“Damn, Rafe. Come on, country club. Bro, how are you gonna have this and not even tell me! You got a whole YMCA up on this bitch, dude.” Barry spoke with a laugh.

“Barry! Time to think. All right, we need to make a move.” Rafe shouted, standing up now.

“That’s all we do, bro. We been making moves.”

JJ hid, watching the conversation and listening in on it.

“Yeah, well we don’t have much time. Yo, come down here, you’re not gonna believe this shit.” Rafe spoke, all of them stepping down.

JJ sighed, thinking as he stood up. He took off his shoes, and dove into the water.

“I’m just saying we need to take this shit seriously.” JJ heard Rafe say when he went closer, now in front of the boat.

“Dude, bro, i should get a tooth made out of this, huh?” Barry asked, smiling as he held up a bar to his teeth.

“Look, don’t be touching the shit. Just put it back.” Rafe told him.

“So paranoid, bro.”

“I don’t give a fuck about the cross. I’m trying to make money.”

JJs head snapped up at his words.

“I told you, my aunt, she got some contacts. She gonna help us move these little bitches. The gems, the nuggets, the whole damn melted enchilada.” Barry told Rafe.

“These gems are mint, man. The golds bullion. We’re selling it in bars. Alright? I’m not gonna deal with some half assed pogue shit with some reject from Zale’s, bro-“

“Watch how you speaking about my auntie, dog.”

“I’m not talking about your aunt. I’m just…” JJ swum back to the dock, the rest of the conversation not important now that he knew about the gold and the cross.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Pope… he has the cross and he melted it down.”

Popes face fell, he stared out into the water.

“Fuck!” He shouted. “Of course it was Rafe.” He said as he panted.

“Yeah, I mean, we probably coulda guessed that.” You said.

“The cross of Santo Domingo, desecrated! For money? God!”

“I know.. so.. I think we need to stay calm to make a plan, but we got to stay-“ JJs sentence was cut off as Pope smashed the floorboards.

“Getting better at that.”

“This is messed up, man. Even for them.”

“I know.” JJ said.

“Couldn’t agree more.” You told them.

“And they’re just gonna keep getting away with it. They’re gonna keep doing that shit. Gonna keep winning.”

“I mean, pope, is this news to y-“

You hit JJs shoulder before he could finish that sentence, giving him a pointed look as he rubbed his shoulder.

“No. But I’m sick of being the good guy.” He said, before walking away.

“Pope.” Cleo said, but he started to run. “Pope, where are you going?”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“Well, I appreciate the help, you three.” Mrs. Heyward spoke, you and Cleo coming out and setting up tables.

“You know I ain’t missing Mrs. Hayward’s cooking.” JJ said with a small smile, wiping down the table.

“Unlike my derelict son. He’s usually here by now”

JJ tried to steal something off the grill, but his hand was slapped away.

“I’m sure he’ll be back any second, Mrs. Heyward. Probably just going through a rough time. It’s been hard adjusting back to normal life. For all of us.” You told her, a hopeful smile on your face.

“Either one of yall moved the pistol from in there?” Heyward spoke, pointing to the inside. “The one I keep under the register?”

“JJ?”

“Whoa, okay, I didn’t touch it. Okay?” He quickly defended

“He didn’t.” You told him.

“Yeah, well somebody did. Cause it’s gone.”

“I got my own gun, Mr. Heyward.” You held your hands up in defense when he looked at you.

“You see? I- dang it. I gotta find it.” He stormed inside, Mrs. Heyward following.

“Shit.” You muttered, turning to the both of them

“He’s going after Rafe.”

“I’ll check the marina.” You quickly spoke up. “Okay… I’ll come with.” JJ spoke, but you shook your head.

“Go with Cleo to Tannyhill. I doubt he’ll be at the marina still.”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I haven’t talked to you in a minute, all right? No, look, listen, okay, the situation is we got… I got it. I got it right here. It’s bars, in bullion. All right.” Rafe spoke on the phone, pacing on the boat.

Pope held the gun, moving it up. He cocked it, pointing it to Rafe and aiming carefully with tears in his eyes.

He heard the footsteps before he heard your voice.

“Pope..” you mumbled. “If you do this, your whole life will go to shit. Trust me.”

“I don’t care.”

“But you care about your mother. And your father. What would they think?”

“I think they would understand how I feel.” Pope said, tears now streaming down his face. “For once, he would lose like we always do.”

You sighed, sitting down next to him and putting a hand on his shoulder, as he spoke.

“It doesn’t matter anyways. I’ve lost everything.”

“Are you kidding? You have a family, you have a home. You have friends that would kill themselves for you. Pope, you are the smartest fucking kid I know, but that is some bullshit coming out your mouth right now.” You paused for a moment.

“I know that right now it feels like nothing matters, and believe me, I’ve been there, but trust me, what you do is going to matter.” You continued.

You grabbed his arm, lowering it along with the gun, he exhaled and sobbed. You held him, letting him cry into your shoulder.

“Just breathe, dude. You’re good.”

You glanced back at Rafe on the boat, watching him pace back and forth on the phone.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

“I’m sorry, J. I already asked, but there’s no room left in the house. I’m sorry.” You told him, a sad smile on your face.

“You think you can stay at the Chateau for a while? I- I just got this new job, and I’m really trying. I swear. I’m gonna get like- I’m gonna have to get like two more, but I swear, I’m gonna get some place soon, even if it’s like.. a fucking shithole-“ you rambled on.

JJ nodded, cutting your off with his words. “I’ll figure it out, it’s all good. Don’t worry ‘bout me.”He told you, shrugging and putting his cap back on his head.

“Are you sure?”

“Jesus, I’m sure. Jb won’t mind, I already practically lived with him before, I’ll do it for years again if I have to.” He shrugged.

“Thank you, JJ. See you,” you nodded, giving him a small smile before walking away.

“See you, dude,”

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Yeah, a lot happened after that. John B showed up, Big John had been kidnapped, and now JJ and John B were going to some professors house to get info on where he might be, because all they knew is he was somewhere in South America.

And you were currently working two jobs, one of which was a bartender one.

The bar was in a club on figure eight, so of course you heard a bunch of shit. But today, you couldn’t help but listening in on the conversation.

“You know that Rafe Cameron is sellin’ fucking gold? From like some… ancient artifact or something?” One man said to another, downing the shot he had just gotten.

“Sell a bit here, a little bit there. Under the radar.” Rafe had told Barry when he talked about the plan for selling the gold. Clearly, that had not worked as well as they hoped, since word got around.

You listened intently, your job of wiping up the bar now forgotten.

“What? That’s weird. Heard he’s been on his fuckin’ rocker ever since his dad, and ever since that one girl from the cut.. what’s her name?”

“You talkin’ bout Maybanks sister?” The man asked, not even glancing at you as you filled up his cup again.

“Yes!” He snapped his fingers. “Her. He’s been weird since they broke up.”

“Has he, now?” You asked them with a quirked eyebrow. It was then they looked at you, eyes widening in realization.

“I mean, shit, I see why now.” One of them mumbled when you walked away, making you smile to yourself.

︵‿︵‿୨♡୧‿︵‿︵

Tannyhill parties. You hated them. You sighed as you stood in front of the house, shaking your head to yourself as you went in through the back and hopped through an open window, avoiding the dude at the front door.

Rafe really had to hire his own bouncer? That’s low.

You tried not to get spotted, and somehow it had worked. Because among all the drunk and horny teenagers, you were hidden.

You went up the stairs when you didn’t see him anywhere. And you glanced in his room, no sign of him.

“And, if you would kindly follow me, Miss Sofia.” Rafe spoke, guiding her outside.

“VIP section.” He spoke, putting an arm around her.

“Oh, yeah?”

“Yeah, only very, very special people are allowed here.. so.”

“Mm..”

“So you can see the water…” he pointed out to the ocean.

“Hey, that ain’t no Jim beam bullshit! All right? That’s Pappy Van Winkle, that’s like a days salary bro! Aye, if you don’t have a drink in your hand get the hell out of my house! Get off my property!” He shouted to the partygoers, all of them cheering at him.

“So this is the VIP life huh?”

“Mm-hmm. Yeah.”

“Cool.” She beamed at him.

“You wanna see some more?” He asked, but before she could answer he heard a a familiar voice.

“Nice party. This shit still tastes like garbage.” You told him, holding up the red cup with some expensive shit you got downstairs.

You wouldn’t admit it stung to see him with another girl. But you did like the way her smile faltered and fell when his eyes were on you now.

“How’d you get in here? Thought I had-“

You shrugged. “I used a window. Can we talk?”

He glanced at you and back at Sofia.

“Alone.” You clarified.

“I’ll be right back, don’t go anywhere, yeah?” He told her quietly. She nodded.

You both went into his room, he shut the door behind him. You stood in front of him, your arms wrapped around yourself as you looked around the room.

“You wanted to talk, so talk.” He snapped impatiently.

“Jeez, okay, okay. Just cut to the chase, do you have my jacket? I haven’t been able to find it and I know I always left it here.”

“You came here, through a window, for a fuckin’ jacket?” He asked, his tone annoyed.

“No… that’s… that’s not my point. I just… Rafe, I wouldn’t be here if I didn’t need to be.”

He was listening now.

“Why the fuck did you burn down the cross?” You asked him.

“What?” He laughed, your sudden change in demeanor was hilarious to him. “I- it’s mine. Don’t you guys get that?” He pointed to himself, his eyebrows furrowed. “Mine. I fuckin’ went to hell and back for that thing.” He pointed, voice louder now.

“Yeah, all for some fuckin’ money! Which, may I remind you, you already have plenty of. You’re being an asshole, Rafe-“

“Yeah, and when am I not with you?” He scoffed.

“Do you really wanna have this argument? Right here? And while I’m here, I broke up with you, so why are you telling people it’s the other way around? You don’t wanna seem like a pussy or something?” You are practically shouting now, happy that the music drained out the noise.

“Oh, don’t even!” He laughed. “Are you fucking-“

“It is Popes cross, not yours. And just admit you don’t wanna be seen as the boy who begged and cried for his girlfriend to come back!” You yelled at him, poking your finger into his chest.

When the fuck did you two get so close to each other? You thought.

You looked up at him, panting. He stared down at you. He grabbed your wrist, harshly holding it in his hand.

Your heart raced as he leaned down, capturing your lips in a fiery, heated kiss. One full of anger, pent up feelings. Of course, you didn’t reciprocate at first.

You fell under his spell, however, seconds later, kissing him back. His hand let go of your wrist, and were currently on your sides, pulling you even closer as you both crashed onto the floor, you straddling him.

“I- I fucking hate you.” You muttered when you both pulled away, causing him to smirk against your lips.

“Hate you too.” He told you, going back to shoving his tongue in your mouth.

————————

Taglist:

@cassie0sstuff @rafesgiirl @fals3-g0d @tiaamberxx @callsignwidow @saintnourah

[brooooswriting]

how would sam react to their s/o being mad at her, and her not knowing what she did. just curious lol

Whyyyy?

Sam carpenter x reader

This is pretty short but still kinda cute ig

Sam was confused, well actually that was an understatement. You hadn’t talked to her since yesterday evening, you went to your apartment with a small bye and since then you hadn’t answered her calls or texts. You disappeared as soon as she entered, breaking your conversation with Quinn and Tara. She only knew that you were fine because you didn’t answer Tara’s messages. It wasn’t hard to figure out that you were mad, she just didn’t know why. You were fine one moment and the next one you just left, it was confusing.

The whole day while Sam was at work she checked her phone and spammed yours with even more texts, hoping that you’d respond to at least one of them. But you didn’t. So she did the only thing she could think of, drive by your apartment. She used the key you gave her a couple of weeks ago to let herself in, it was already late.

But before she drove to your apartment she decided to stop at a small store where she got you some flowers, chocolate, a stuffed animal and a heating pad. There where two options:

1. She fucked up and that’s why you were mad

2. You were on your period

She decided to get you your favorite things either way, if you had your period you’d be happy about the gift and talk to her again and if she did something wrong she could use those things to bribe you into telling her what she did wrong so she could fix it. She didn’t want to apologize through material things without knowing what she did wrong.

The moment you heard your door open you freaked and grabbed the bat that sat next to you bed, Sam made you keep it there. You carefully walked out with the bat to see Sam, “oh you” you mumbled and sank the bat. “Yeah me, I brought you some stuff” she held the flowers tight in her hand. “Keep ‘em or put em on the counter” you mumbled walking back to the bedroom, causing Sam to groan. “Can you please talk to me? Let me know what I did wrong so I can fix it” she called out as she followed you into your bedroom. There she got here answer, there was chocolate wrappers everywhere, your bed was a mess and a pack of period articles next to your bed. Plus, you were laying in bed holding your stomach.

“Oh honey, is it your time?” She mumbled as she laid behind you in bed, her hand rubbing soothing circles on your stomach. You only grumbled in response, “does is hurt bad?” She asked again only receiving a grumble. She went and got you some pain medicine, water, chocolate and the stuffed animal she got you. “Now wanna tell me what I did wrong?” Her voice made you melt, just like the way her arms wrapped around your middle to pull you closer. “You didn’t text me” you answered in a shushed voice, after a small what it suddenly clicked. She was supposed to text or call you when she had her break at work but she didn’t. “Oh baby, I’m sorry” she started as she pulled you even closer placing a kiss on your neck. “Maggi…” as soon as you heard that name you grumbled again which made her laugh a bit, “she didn’t come to work and she didn’t tell anybody so I couldn’t take a break. Im sorry I didn’t call”

It took a second before you turned around and hugged her waist, hurrying your face in her neck which confused her. “Im sorry” you mumbled this time, confusing her for a moment, “Im just very moody and I overreacted” you continued making her coo. “It’s alright. If it hurt your feelings, it hurt your feelings and I’m sorry I caused it. Now what are we thinking about ice cream?” You immediately sat up with a grin causing her to laugh too. “Alright, I’ll be back real quick” she was about to stand up when you threw yourself at her which made her fall back on the bed again. You pressed a couple of kisses against her lips making her smile.

About 15 min late she came back with ice cream and a heating pad. “Gosh I love you” you mumbled as you devoured the ice cream. When you were done eating Sam quickly pulled you on top of her, kissing your head. “Next time, just tell me when you’re moody alright? I could have brought ice cream directly” she joked before kissing you one last time.

[madelynhimegami]

Witch Guide

You ever notice Witch is wearing the same kind of hat Link does? Anyway.

With this one done, I have three characters left from the poll I took this past November. Possibly two, since a lot of one character is largely headcanon. Like, even moreso than the others.

Point being, if there's anybody I've missed, now's the time to start thinking about it and/or possibly telling me. Or I'll just do whomever I feel like doing. Who knows.

Witch is, in a word, inventive. She's creative and intelligent and is Full of Ideas.

"Witch" is not actually her name. In fact, she literally has no name until she becomes recognized as a fully-fledged witch, as is customary for her clan.

Have you ever seen somebody that, when they play a video game for the first time, instead of playing as intended they poke around the weirdest corners, pick weird dialogue options on purpose, intentionally ignore mechanics to see how far they can get without them, intentionally avoid accomplishing a task the intended way, try to break things or go out of bounds on purpose, or marvel at the crude underbelly of the graphics engine? Witch is basically that but in real life.

(well, magical fantasy world life)

She does all sorts of absurd experimentations in potioncrafting, just to see if she can. She's also not above underhandedness, if she thinks she can get away with it.

Witch is very crafty and grabby (and sometimes lacking empathy) with potential ingredients. If it's magical, she'll want to use it in making a potion. If it's just weird, she'll still want to make it into a potion.

Once perfected, the potions she makes are powerful and are more often than not capable of working as she intends for them to. With "how she intends" being the opporative phrase.

Her potions are extremely silly, impractical, dangerous, or just plain unhelpful. She could make standard potions like health and restorative potions, but doing so bores her to tears.

An abridged list of potions that Witch has made: ☼ A potion that makes the drinker speak to birds, in that they will render them only capable of making bird noises and no other sounds. It will also not help them understand birds. ☼ A potion that makes the drinker taller. By making their neck and/or head longer. ☼ A potion that makes the drinker shine brightly enough to be Actively Painful to look directly at. ☼ A potion that changes the drinker's appearance. Randomly. Permanently. With no way to turn back except by drinking more of the potion until they become something that looks close enough to what they were before. ☼ A potion that makes other people to physically gravitate towards the drinker.

Fortunately, most of her potions have antidotes, unless stated otherwise.

Still, she's quite frustrated about her lack of making successful sales of her potions. She's aware of why, but is too dedicated to her experiments.

Witch does make potions that have practical use on occasion, such as a potion that draws out the recipient's latent power. She's also been shown working on a potion that helps with recovering memories lost through spacetime travel.

She tends to be disorganized in her crafting. She'll lose track of which potions she has or hasn't started working on, forget what potions she has on her person, and has a weird habbit of not asking for payment upfront.

She's also prone to hyperfocus, to the point of losing track of where she is or what's going on around her.

Witch has a distinct "saleswoman" front that she puts up when she wants to seem approachable. She's sketchy like a used car dealer if you aren't careful around her in this mode.

When in salesmode, Witch is all smiles and cheer, the perfect picture of innocence. Y'know, like anybody with a "customer service" voice.

Salesmode is when she's at her craftiest and most underhanded and aggressive. She'll intentionally not talk about all her potions effects, or use crocodile tears to let down your guard, or get really insistant on selling something.

Witch is proud, arrogant, and vain. She confidently boasts about her intellect, prowess, and appearance.

The upside to that, is that she takes pride in her work as well, and is more than willing to put in the work when put to task.

She also has limits to her underhanded-ness. For instance, she is completely capable of making the very scent of her products induce addiction to the point of dependency. But she won't do so (on purpose), because that's too much for even her.

Put another way, Witch is honest with herself, if nobody else.

Although rather greedy, Witch ultimately is more interested in her success with potions, rather than gaining wealth. She is willing to help someone out for free if it gives her more data, or if she feels guilty.

That said, while in full gremlin mode she also has no qualms of doing something dangerous, harmful, or violent to those around her to get what she wants. Which often consists of harvested body parts and excretions.

Witch has a very particular way of greeting/announcing her presence, "oissu," which is a variation of a very casual greeting. It's been translated variably as "Yo," "Heya," and "Howdy." I like using "Ahoy," but I think I'm the only one who does.

just don't have her say "It's potion time" anymore, please

Witch reads a wide variety of books to absorb their contents. She also has a large collection of books that includes rare volumes.

Her prized book that she keeps with her at all times was written by her grandmother, and holds many arcane secrets.

Although she's been shown sharing the contents of some of her books, including the one by her grandmother, I personally think she's very selective about what she tells others, keeping quiet on any clan, craft, or trade secrets that may or may not be within them.

Among other things about her grandmother, Wish, is that most of the spells she uses in Puyo battles these days were originally shown being cast by Wish.

Witch was also taught by Wish. She has a lot of respect for her grandmother.

Witch seems to never talk about herself on a personal level, and she sidesteps direct questions more often than not. Arle's read on her was enough to make her shy away immediately.

Speaking of which, Arle thinks Witch is ultimately not a bad person, whose help can be trusted when it's explicitly offered.

For her part, Witch doesn't need much prompting to help Arle when she's in a bind. I think Witch was genuinely touched on the one occasion Arle admitted how much she cared about her friends, Witch included.

Schezo saved Wish's life once, and for that Witch seems to be genuinely close to him. Not that it will stop them from bickering and getting on each other's nerves every chance they get.

Witch also seems to hang around Draco a lot. How that ended up happening is a riddle for the ages. The former seems to only want to use the latter as a patsy, guinea pig, and ingredient farm, but Witch is not able to deny Draco being a friend when asked.

Witch seems to be a fan of punk rock fashion (or something adjacent to it, at least), but doesn't get a lot of chances to express it. At least publicly.

[stay-prideful]

Helluva Boss x Reader (S5)

Stolas Part 5 (Rewritten): Date Night

The final (unless requested otherwise) Stolas chapter, rewritten! If this chapter doesn't make sense in some places, or you have questions, please comment your thoughts!!

Satan, if only it could’ve been that simple.

The moments afterward had been okay enough (better than okay actually. You were literally in Stola’s arms), but when it came time for your work day to end, Hell, for you two to separate, Stolas seemed reluctant to let you go. He was a mess, blushing deeply and murmuring under his breath. You asked him to talk a little louder so you could hear him, but he only got quieter and blushed deeper. It was when you finally opened a portal at the end of the work day that he finally found the courage to speak up.

“I’m not making a mistake, am I?”

Your canid ears perked up, as he finally said something intelligible. You stopped, preventing yourself from entering the portal and escaping his clinginess. You looked at the portal in front of you, the entryway to your apartment, and sighed before closing it. You turned back to Stolas. It was too bad that was what had come out of his beak, because your mental response was to immediately think of all of the reasons that this was indeed a mistake.

For one, Stolas still needed experience when it came to romantic maturity, despite his flirtatious advances and experience with physical intimacy. You had to basically pry him off of you, and you were reminded of how Blitzø had often called Stolas clingy. You remembered the messages Stolas had left for him over the phone, and while they were…interesting, it didn’t breed a lot of confidence that Stolas could handle a real relationship. Not to mention he had endured an abusive marriage that was so awful he jumped to Blitzø of all people.

Secondly, you weren’t sure if Stolas was even over Blitzø to begin with. He certainly had made a big show of breaking up with Blitzø at I.M.P., but had left open the option to still be friends with Blitzø. Surely that meant he still harbored some amount of feelings for him, right? Maybe he was just using you as a rebound until he found someone better…he is a prince after all. He could have anybody he wanted.

Lastly, if you ever did get your job back, it would just be another reason for Blitzø to permanently put an end to your afterlife. While you hadn’t actually “stolen his bird” when he snapped at you, dating Stolas now would certainly be another nail in your proverbial coffin. Even if you tried to keep it a secret, it would inevitably be discovered, and you could definitely foresee another Blitzø freakout.

No, no, no. Sure, there were some pretty big hurdles that a relationship with Stolas would have to clear, but it wasn’t as bad as you were making it out to be. Stolas not being romantically mature? He’s a fucking adult. He’s been through two toxic relationships, and honestly it’s a testament to his big heart that he was willing to try for a third time with you of all people. And you knew he had been over Blitzø for a while! For weeks you knew; and he had told you about all the months of giving Blitzø space, and how he felt abandoned in the hospital. He had had plenty of time to get over Blitzø. He had even coldly rejected Blitzø measly attempts at flirtation with him when he wanted the grimoire back. As for Blitzø finding out about you two…okay, that one might be a problem. But otherwise this relationship would turn out fine, right?!

Still, you had your reservations. Maybe the two of you just needed more time. Maybe…

“I know you think you’re a mess Stolas. I know because of how much you’ve divulged in our conversations. Over the phone at the hospital, and during these months I’ve played the act of your bodyguard. To be honest, you still kind of are.”

Stolas blinked at your sudden honesty. Your brain told you to stop, to escape him. That telling him the truth would only drive him away again, like it did the first time. But those two thought didn’t compute. How could you escape him, and yet also be with him? Your heart spoke to you, and the thoughts dissipated.

“I never…I thought I would approach you when you were ready, Stolas. When I was ready. I thought I would have more time, that my feelings wouldn’t come out by some foolish mistake…I know you’re kind of a romantic, so I thought I would learn to do something with magic for you. Some grand gesture, as well as I could, given that you’re a prince. Maybe I could conjure a rose, or a whole bouquet of flowers. I don’t know what kind of gestures you’re used to, or how big. And…I don’t want to build our relationship on the basis of sex, Stolas. Not like you did with Blitzø. I want you, in your entirety. Not just something physical, but I want you romantically. I want your charming, elegant, sad, sure, but true self. All of it. The good and the bad. Thinking about it now, that gesture would be…some kind of dinner? I’ve become really good at cooking since I’ve arrived in Hell.” You tried to finish what you said with another example of a gesture because you didn’t want to sound too sappy. Too fucking late for that, you thought.

Stolas stopped biting his lip, and the blush on his cheeks went away for a moment. Then it came back, stronger than ever, turning his entire face crimson. Was it really that much of a surprise to him? That someone wanted to well and truly love him for who he was? Without the need for sex, or favors? You thought back to what he had told you about himself during the time of your friendship. He had been in a loveless marriage, and a dark place in his life, despite his love for his daughter, when Blitzø had come to “rescue” him. Maybe he never really had somebody who loved him romantically. Ever.

Stolas was left speechless. Then he gathered the courage to.

“You want…all of me? But I…I’m—”

“I would want you even if you weren’t a prince, Stolas. I want you now, even if you think your life is a mess. I want you because of who you really are, beneath your titles, and beneath whatever you think your body has to offer.”

“That’s…” Stolas stopped to swallow, his face returning to its normal pale color. “Refreshing. That’s something new. That’s romantic,” he giggled, a soft hooting sound coming his throat, and his cheeks grew red again.

“So…when you’re ready, whenever that may be, Stolas…can I ask you out to dinner?” you asked, hesitant.

Stolas held still for a moment. He slowly nodded, content.

“I would like that.”

You stood there before him, before sheepishly giving him a hug. There was a moment of surprise on his end, but he returned it soon after.

“I won’t make you wait much longer, I promise.”

You responded by burying your face in his stomach, and he gave a little giggle. The one that sounded like hooting, and that you loved.

You still visited Stolas over the next few weeks, though as little more than a friend and bodyguard. You were able to talk with him calmly, and him you. It was if confessing your mutual feelings allowed you to be more casual, without expecting or holding anything back from one another. This was aided by the fact that you both knew you could further your relationship whenever you felt comfortable enough. Stolas, having heard your want to create some kind of gesture for him, offered to teach you magic. You graciously accepted. Other than that, you would each talk about how your lives were going. You would be a shoulder for Stolas to cry on, and him you, if you ever needed it. You would openly tell him of your worries about living up to him, or being good enough for “a prince’s attention.”

You would see Octavia occasionally. It was always a little strange, the young owlet spying on you when she thought you weren’t looking. You knew she had questions for you, like who you were, and why you were at her father’s mansion. You wish she would just come closer so you could explain everything.

Over the course of those weeks, Octavia would see you bring out a side of her father that she had never seen before. When he had been with her mother, he would always be tense, and pathetically sad. He would be horny for Blitzø, and she was disgusted by it. With you, though, she could see that Stolas genuinely enjoyed your company. She saw that you genuinely cared for him in turn. Eventually, she started to suspect there was more going on, but instead of despising you as she had done with Blitzø, she realized you were much better for him than her mother would ever be. Unbeknownst to you, she would question her father about your meetings, encouraging him to pursue you. Of course, she would do it in a way that would make her seem apathetic, and so that Stolas wouldn’t catch on, but encourage she did.

Stolas was delighted that Octavia was more inquisitive about you than she had been with Blitzø, and with the subtle encouragement from his daughter, became ready to be part of a relationship again. However, unlike last time, he asked his daughter how she would feel about it. Blitzø had driven a wedge between them, and was a great cause of Octavia’s fear that her father would abandon her. Stolas did not want that happening again. Bewildered by his honesty, Octavia would at first be apathetic and dismissive, but wouldn’t outright reject the idea. However, noticing her father’s disappointment in her reaction, would quickly clarify that it wasn’t that she didn’t care, it was that she didn’t mind. Stolas, acknowledging his daughter’s behaviour as that of one so young, saw through her and derived the true meaning of her words. He would envelop her in a grateful hug, much to her false chagrin at first, but she would return the gesture, adoring her father.

You actually did get your old job back at I.M.P., as Loona had promised. Blitzø had swallowed his pride when rehiring you. He still held some tension about the whole Stolas situation, but it was clear he no longer meant you any harm, no doubt due to a combination of Loona, Moxxie, and Millie’s efforts.

Now that you were finally able to contact your found family again, you would explain to Millie everything that had gone on. No doubt Blitzø hadn’t said anything, and Loona barely knew what was really going on (no doubt she wouldn’t have been willing to tell Millie either). You told her everything; how you and Stolas had been friends, why you had been so worried over the phone when Striker had attacked, why Blitzø had shot at and fired you…everything.

You would regale Millie with what had happened at Stolas’s regarding your accidental confession towards him, and she would screech in excitement for you. She understood that a true romantic relationship had not yet formed between you two, but she couldn’t help but give unsolicited dating advice whenever Blitzø wasn’t in the room. She of course had told Moxxie, and understandably kept it from Blitzø. It was better not to involve the imp who had wanted to kill your for “stealing Stolas,” even when it hadn’t been true at that point. Loona was indifferent, but kept up her sentiment that if you were happy, she was happy. She didn’t want to see you moping around the office again.

Another work day ended with you visiting Stolas. You had actually limited your contact with each other, finding that perhaps seeing each other so often, while not actually in a relationship, might be a little strange. You both wanted your respective alone times as well, as you both tried to become ready for a relationship with the other. This day was Friday, which meant you had a weekend with Stolas ahead of you, though it was only for a few hours at a time. Since learning how to properly use the portal spell from him, you had become extremely proficient with casting it, greatly improving the time missions took on Earth for I.M.P. You waved your practiced hand, tearing a hole in reality to Stolas’s mansion, and stepped through.

You arrived in Stolas’s study, as expected. It was where you had been meeting him as of late. You saw the owl, and smiled at him warmly, before raising an eyebrow as you saw who he had with him. You were surprised to find Octavia there, standing next to her father. She appeared to be distracted, bobbing her head to music that came through earbuds connected to a phone in her hands. Stolas was very stiff, sweating a little from what you could only assume to be anxiousness at the situation.

“Octavia, (Y/N) is here…” Stolas said, speaking through the side of his mouth. When she didn’t answer, Stolas gently nudged her side. Octavia looked up at her father in surprise, then followed his eyeline to look at you. She took her earbuds out, and you noticed for the first that neither she nor Stolas appeared to actually have ears. You rationalized that since birds didn’t have ears either, they must share a feature of auditory holes of some kind for hearing.

Octavia gave you a quick nod as a greeting, then looked back at her father.

“Dad, do we really have to do this?” she groaned. “I already know who (Y/N) is!”

“You’ve barely interacted with them, Via,” Stolas chided. “All you’ve been doing is spying on them in your free time. I know you thought you were being sneaky, but you weren’t. A proper introduction is in order, especially since you’ll be spending more time with them.” Stolas then turned to you.

“(Y/N), you and Octavia have both progressed enough in your studies to the point where it would benefit the both of you to hear from each other how you experience magic. I expect you will both be able to accelerate your learning by doing so. Congratulations! I hope this will be a wonderful collaborative experience.” Stolas said happily, clapping his hands together. Octavia rolled her eyes.

Your confusion had only grown from Octavia’s words, but the strangeness of it all was erased by Stolas’s explanation.

“Now, I know you’ve already met Octavia, but I don’t think you’ve interacted long enough to have a real conversation, as you’re always with me. She’s been asking me a lot of questions about you recently. I think it would also be a good opportunity for you two to learn more about each other!”

“DAD!” Octavia’s face went red, embarrassed that her behaviour had just been outed by her father. You gave a light chuckle.

“As such, it is important that there be a proper introduction,” Stolas continued, ignoring his daughter’s outburst. “If you would kindly begin,” Stolas prompted his daughter, bowing slightly and gesturing his hand towards her.

Octavia groaned once again.  She stepped forwards, posture slouched. “I’m Octavia,” she began, monotone. “You already know who I am.”

Stolas looked at her with some disappointment at how she was acting, but said nothing. He turned to look at you expectantly. Put on the spot, you struggled to think of something.

“I, uh…I’m (Y/N). It’s nice to meet you. Formally, I mean. I guess if you have any questions for me, feel free to ask?”

Octavia’s face exuded “I could not give less of a fuck about this” energy, but her eyes were filled with curiosity. That gave you some comfort; maybe you could try to get to know her more, as Stolas’s daughter. You hadn’t really known what eventually dating Stolas would mean in regard to her, but hopefully you two could form some sort of bond.

After the awkward introduction, Stolas led you both to a different part of the mansion from where you usually studied. You had been to different parts of the place over the last few months, of course, but you had expected to simply stay in the study to practice magic. Instead, you arrived at a library. The topic of discussion today related to stars, and you suspected that this change was because of Octavia. You remembered that she and Stolas shared a love of the cosmos, as Stolas had told you on multiple occasions when gushing about his daughter.

When Stolas left the two of you alone, giving the both of you a break, as suggested by him, you talked about how both of you perceived magic. You talked about how you had learned it for practicality, to make your life easier, and your work smoother. You dodged your main reason, though, being that you wanted to make a gesture to Stolas with it.

You knew Octavia knew Loona, so you figured telling her about how you would cure her hangovers using magic, after you had returned to I.M.P., would be at least somewhat appropriate to tell. Octavia laughed when you told her that.

“Does she really get hungover at work? That often?” she snickered.

“I think she’s actually doing it more, now that she knows I’ll fix it for her,” you responded, also laughing a bit. “Nothing wrong with a bit of a buzz, but really, Loona? I fear she’ll end up destroying her liver if she’s not careful. Anyway, what’s your perspective on magic? I’ve heard it started as an interest in stars?”

Octavia’s face became thoughtful as she considered your question. Then she blushed in embarrassment, and then groaned immediately after. What had she just thought about?

“Okay, I’m only telling you this because it’ll help you get better at magic. Supposedly.” Octavia began, gritting her teeth a little. “Yeah, it started as an interest in stars, but only because Dad would tell me about them, and he seemed really excited when he did. I wanted to learn magic because it was also about stars, and it would be a way to get closer to him.”

Octavia paused.

“Obviously, those are just the thoughts of a child. Now I do it for…practicality, like you said,” Octavia finished, but her tone betrayed her intended perception. She still adored her father.

“Right,” you said sarcastically, not believing her in the slightest. “Although, I can relate to learning magic as a way of getting closer to your dad. He really is passionate about it.”

Octavia poked your arm. “What does that mean?” she said, grinning cheekily. “You want to get closer to my dad?”

Blood rushed to your face as you realized what you had just admitted to Octavia.

“Uhh, I mean—”

“It’s alright, I get it,” Octavia said, interrupting you. “I know how you feel about Dad, it was kind of obvious. To be honest, I was asking him questions about you because I also know what you mean to him. I think you’re good for him, unlike that imp,” she said, gesturing with her hand. “I’ve never seen him so happy, except for when he’s with me.” Octavia gave another pause. “Don’t tell my dad I said any of this, alright?” she asked, eyes showing you precious vulnerability.

You nodded, touched by all that she had chosen to share with you. “Right, you only told me this because it was supposed to help me get better at magic,” you teased, recalling her earlier words. Octavia punched your arm, but the girl didn’t put any strength behind it. “Don’t fuck it up, okay?” she said, then pulled out her phone, not bothering to wait for a response. It indicated that her conversation with you was over.

You were left a little bewildered. The teenage owlet had basically just given you her approval to date her dad. You were filled with a little bit of pride at the sentiment. You became inspired to ask Stolas out again. Formally, this time. You had implied that you would give him a grand gesture when you had confessed your feelings to each other, so maybe this was the time to do it.

After a while, Stolas came back into the room. He had a smile on his face.

“So, how did it go?” he asked, already having anticipated a conversation to happen between you and his daughter. He hadn’t been present, but he could’ve easily guessed it was going to happen. This whole lesson was basically designed around it. You looked over at Octavia, who was facing the both of you, but was still looking at her phone.

“It went well,” you said. “She told me some pretty interesting things…” Stolas looked like he wanted to ask what exactly you had talked about, but you spoke before he could. “Hey, Stolas?” you asked, after mentally preparing for the moment.

Stolas gave a little “Hmmm?” and cocked his head curiously, which you found adorable. You felt the warmth rising in your chest. This was it.

With a wave of your graceful hand, you magically produced a bouquet of carnivorous plants that looked like flowers, which you promptly held out to him.  Stolas blinked in surprise.

“I feel like it’s been some time since we…talked about our feelings,” you said. You heard a small noise behind you, probably coming from Octavia. You ignored it. “I would like to treat you to dinner. As a date,” you clarified. “I’ve mentioned how I learned to cook since I’ve been in Hell, and I would like to do that for you. I can bring it over. We don’t have to eat at my place.”

Stolas blushed, and his face scrunched down into his feathers, slightly embarrassed, but loving your gesture, nonetheless. His eyes grew wide as he remembered that Octavia was in the room. You were okay with asking Stolas out in front of her, because she had just given you her approval. Stolas, on the other hand, held out his hand to you, in a “stop,” or “pause” gesture. He shifted his weight so he could look at his daughter from behind you. Before he could say anything, Octavia spoke first. The prince’s words were getting walked all over today, but it seemed to be working out in his favor.

“Just say yes, Dad. You know you want to,” Octavia said, resting her head in her hands, which were propped up by her elbows on the table. She was watching the both of you with some adoration, but mostly amusement.

Stolas, now feeling that same bewilderment from Octavia as you had felt moments before, turned back to you. Confusion faded fast as he looked at you, who was still waiting for an answer. “Yes, I accept!” he said, breathily laughing as he took your hands in his, lifting them up to his chest. “What did you have in mind?”

You were elated. You were finally going to go on a date with Stolas! It had taken ages, but you knew Stolas needed that time to heal, and it was well worth the wait. You hadn’t even done anything yet, but the feeling of holding his hands in this new context of your relationship brought you a joy you couldn’t describe. The warmth in your chest turned to a burning, though not uncomfortable.

“I know you like rats, so I can try to make something with that? I can bring it over! What day works for you?”

Stolas’s own excitement faltered a little as he heard that, but it was from curiosity, rather than any disappointment.

“You mentioned that before, eating here. Why can’t we eat at your domicile?” Stolas asked. “You’ve expressed your opinions about how you feel in this environment,” he continued, gesturing all around him, referring both to your previous job as his bodyguard, as well as the extravagant mansion. “Is there something wrong with your place?” he asked, cocking his head to the side.

A sudden twinge of shame went through you. Your apartment didn’t hold a candle to Stolas’s mansion. You knew he was used to a certain level of comfort, and you couldn’t provide that for him at your “domicile.” Surely, he would be rather stay here than visit your home?

“It’s small, and…you wouldn’t want to be there,” you said, the embarrassment leaking into your voice. You tried to let your hands slip out of his, but he felt it, and held firm, as to not let you fall to your shame.

“Nonsense! I’ll be comfortable as long as you’re with me! We’ll eat at your place. I must say, you’ve now got me a bit curious as to brief a glimpse into your life, through the eyes of your home,” Stolas said, a large grin on his face. “As for the time, I shall give you as long as you need to prepare. I will be your guest, after all.” Stolas let go of your hands to take off his hat, and brought it into a deep bow, spreading his free arm to the side.

You could see that your white fur-covered face was being stained a bright pink. Stolas had seen right through you, knowing your fears of not living up to his standards. He had chosen to show you that he cared for you, by insisting he would come regardless, and providing you with the time you needed, just like you had him. It was proof that your time together had meant something.

Stolas stood up, and put his hat back on.

“Shall we continue our lesson?” he asked, smile never fading. Octavia groaned, as she had assumed this display would have let her get out of this unorthodox meeting.

The next 2 to 3 weeks proved to be challenging. As good as you had gotten to be at cooking, rats were new for you. You asked Stolas for books on the topic, and you needed to find a butcher in Hell that actually sold quality rat meat. Luckily, magic aided you in your endeavors, proving to save lots of time on travel and confirming meat was actually up to your standards. Then came the experimenting, making sure that you actually knew how to cook it to perfection, as well as season and create sides for. There was also the matter of purchasing candles and drinks, to make sure the night was as romantic as possible. It was a lot of work. Stolas wondered what was taking so long, but you were honest and communicated with him exactly what you were doing. He flushed as you explained it all, and said he had never had anyone go to such lengths to prepare a single meal for him, not even his staff. And they made sure he was on a specialized diet half the time!

At long last, when you were confident in your ability to prepare this meal, and that the appropriate mood could be created, you informed Stolas of the night. He made sure Octavia would be okay on her own at that time, and ensured his schedule was clear.

You looked around your apartment, checking that everything was perfect one last time before you would portal him over. You had cleaned up, not that there was much to clean in the first place. Your apartment was practically barren. The only thing of note was the table and two chairs you kept in the small space between your kitchen and the rest of your place. There was a fancy purple tablecloth, with the finest dining ware you could afford. You had asked Millie to get you candles with the scent of caramel from the Lust Ring, which is what you had heard owls smelled like. Would that be something Stolas was into? Millie told you she had been shown a candle that was scented as “HORNY,” and the way she described it was so ridiculous the employee who was serving her could hear your laughter through the phone.

Thoughts of horny candles settled your nerves as you created a portal in front of you. It bridged Stolas’s study to what you could only call a dining room if you believed hard enough. Stolas, who had been eagerly waiting for you, saw the portal from across the room on his side. His eyes locked onto you, and he quickly walked forward, through the portal. He had exchanged his normal red outfit for a dark blue one, and where his chest feathers normally stuck out, there was a piece of layered white cloth. The new suit also provided longer sleeves, and they ended in similar looking white cloth. A cape that seemed to contain the stars themselves was draped behind him. Stolas’s face was a bit more white than usual, and his head feathers had been slicked back. He brushed a non-existent stray feather back, pressing smooth some of his other feathers in the process.

You had also tried to dress yourself appropriately for this date, wearing a nice jacket, but you couldn’t even begin to compare yourself to how amazing he looked. You blushed furiously, and stepped up to him to take his hand in yours.

“Wow! Stolas, you look…I…you’re handsome! I mean, not that you weren’t handsome before! I just lack the right words to accurately compliment you right now,” you said, nervous. At any other time, you were sure you could come up with a thousand different compliments. However, you had been caught off guard, and could only drink in his appearance.

It was Stolas’s turn to blush, and he swept back the non-existent stray feather again. You noticed that he now bore a streak of grey in his head feathers. You furrowed your brows in confusion, and, extremely conscious of what you were doing, reached up to caress the side of his face. It became evident that the powder Stolas wore was doing nothing to contain the color that was rushing to his face. He reached up with his own hand, pressing yours gently against his cheek.

“Stolas, are you okay? Why do you have a grey streak?” You asked, concerned for his well-being.

Stolas’s eyes widened. He once again moved his hand up to his hair, and you dropped your hand. “Oh! No, this is just something I saw someone wear. Does it make me look stressed? Am I over-dressed?” he asked, now worrying about his appearance. “The last time I wore something like this, someone called it overkill…” His face looked almost shameful.

Fucking Blitzø, you thought. As much as I love him, I’ll never forgive what he did to this owl.

“No, Stolas. You look amazing. You’re perfect. You shine with the light of millions of stars. You’re a supernova. You’re the accretion disk of a black hole that’s swallowed countless universes, you’re…”

You kept complimenting Stolas. While you had been struggling for words before, you could now not stop the torrent of star-related metaphors coming from your mouth. Stolas’s face kept getting redder and redder, and the light from his study that cast into your dimly lit apartment only helped to amplify how you felt about him. You kept complimenting him until you felt you were running out of things to say. You slowed down, until you were silent. Stolas was left standing there, head turned to the side, shy, while he looked at you with adoration.

Once he had sufficiently wound down from the onslaught of verbal affection, Stolas’s eyes started to wander across your apartment. He took in how barren it was, until his attention settled onto the small table with two chairs. The level of disparity between the rest of your apartment and your small display was apparent.

“You’ve put a lot of effort into this,” Stolas said in awe as you led him to his chair, pulling it out for him. You pushed it back in when he was seated. “It’s very romantic. I hope I didn’t impose too much by insisting we eat here,” he finished. You closed the portal behind him, an indication that you didn’t mind.

“I’m actually a bit grateful,” you said as you stood by the table. “I’ve always had two chairs, but nobody to ever eat with. Today I’ll finally get to see that happen,” you said, remembering as you talked with him on the phone when he was in the hospital. You both had imagined the other sitting across from you, and now it was actually happening!

“Wait here; I’ll only be a moment,” you told him, before disappearing into the kitchen. You returned with two plates, each with your prepared dish and appropriate sides, one plate in each hand. You laid Stolas’s in front of him first, and then your own. You filled his glass with a drink, then did the same with yours. You placed the container that held the liquid at the side of the table, in case either of you wanted a refill later.

Stolas clapped his hands politely as you served him. He waited until you were seated before taking a deep breath, inhaling the scents of the dish you had made.

“This smells wonderful, (Y/N)! It seems almost a shame I’ll have to make it disappear, in order to eat it,” Stolas complimented. A slightly stupid, very flirtatious thought occurred to you at his words. You cleared your throat.

“You know, when societies of Earth were still run by kings and emperors, they would have royal food tasters, whose job was to ensure that their meals hadn’t been poisoned,” you explained, unsure of where exactly you were going with this. Were you trying to relieve him of being the first one to “destroy” your creation?

Stolas raised one of his eyebrows, the smaller eye above following suit. “Oh? Are you saying this meal could have been poisoned while you weren’t looking, (Y/N)? Or that you’ve set up a dastardly plan to assassinate me?” Stolas responded, in a deeply flirtatious voice. His eyelids fell, dropping halfway as he looked at you seductively with one pair of eyes, while the other looked at his plate, cutting off and spearing a small piece of rat meat with his fork. “Well, as a Goetian prince, I couldn’t allow myself to fall victim to such an obvious trap…I suppose I’ll just have to have you taste it for me,” he continued, in a tone that was obviously fake blasé.

You could feel a rapid beat in your chest as Stolas took his fork of meat, and leaned over the table to hold it out to you. He looked at you expectantly, a small blush across his own face. Burning intensely, you leaned your head forward, opening and closing your snout on Stolas’s fork as you looked him in the eyes, which were still half-lidded. Stolas watched closely as you slid back off the utensil, tasting the end result of what you had spent the past few weeks prepping for. Thoughts of Stolas slipped away as you closed your eyes, getting lost in the scents, flavors, and texture of that small piece of heaven you had taken. You were gone for a while, before snapping your eyes open to look at Stolas apologetically. Stolas, who had pulled the utensil you had eaten from back to his side of the table, sensually dragged it across his small triangular tongue as you did, winking with a smirk. Your face burned even brighter than before at his display, obviously recognizing the indirect kiss.

“S-Sorry about that. I kind of got lost in the taste,” you laughed nervously. Stolas, whose eyes still hadn’t left yours, unblinking, gave a slight hoot of amusement.

“It’s alright,” he said, biting the bottom of his beak. “It does look tasty…may I ask you return the favor?” he asked, an eyebrow raising slightly with the question.

Left speechless, you could only nod as you absentmindedly cut and speared a piece from your own plate for him, eyes still trapped by his enchanting gaze. You held it out to him, and Stolas kept you locked in place with his eyes as he placed his mouth around the morsel of food. He struggled to keep his eyes open to look at you, but soon melted backwards into his seat, slamming them shut as he perceived the taste. He clenched his fists on the table, and turned his head to the side as he chewed. That surprised you, as you thought he didn’t have teeth. The thought didn’t mean much to you anyway, as you were finally seeing someone enjoying your cooking at this table. It was a prince, no less!

Stolas swallowed. He turned back to you, opening his eyes just as slowly as he moved. His face was stone cold. Wait, had he ended up not liking it? Was his palette too refined, too critical, to appreciate the work you had put in?

“That. Was. Delicious!” Stolas broke into a wide smile, cutting the tension he himself had created. “I’m astonished at your abilities to capture such a variety of flavors, in just one bite! I simply must sample more of your cooking, when you have the time!” Stolas said eagerly, digging into the rest of his meal, delving into the sides, and savoring those just as much, if not more, than the main dish. “In all my time as a prince, this has to be one of the best things I’ve ever had the pleasure of tasting!”

You beamed, grateful for the compliment. You started to dine on your own meal, and you began talking with Stolas as you usually did, winding down from that exciting beginning of the date. It felt just as relaxing and joyful as all your other meetings with him had gone. The only difference now was the context. Well, there was actually more flirting that occurred, the both of you reducing each other to giggling messes. Other than that, it was if you had really been dating Stolas this entire time, the label “date” only just now being used for tonight’s occasion.

“I would love to cook for you more, Stolas. It’s just that some ingredients can get expensive, and it took my lots of time to prepare just this meal,” you told him. Stolas smiled, and slid his arm across the table to place his hand on yours. It was warm, as always.

“Money is no object for me, (Y/N). I would be happy to have the opportunity to fund your talents, as well as spend more of my time with you, especially if it means supporting something you love.”

You resisted the urge to kiss him right then and there. You gave a shy smile, thanking him. The date went on from there, and you discussed what you always had: each of your respective lives, work environments, and occasionally some issues. When the container of liquid was nearly empty, and your plates had long since been scraped clean, Stolas sensed that the time to leave was nearing.

“This was fun, (Y/N). It felt as if we’ve already been done this before, if you know what I mean,” Stolas chuckled, placing a hand to his beak. He stood up, and opened a portal back to his study. “I must check on Octavia; though I’m sure she’s had nowhere near an eventful night as ours,” Stolas laughed again.

You stood up, and approached to stand in front of him. Feeling a sudden surge of bravery, you looked up at Stolas. You held your arms up. “Do you mind if I…?” Stolas was confused, but shook his head. “No, I don’t mind. What do you mea-eean!?”

Stolas’s voice stretched out as you took the tall bird in your arms, and dipped him, as well as you could with the difference in your heights. Stolas looked up at you in wonder, arm draped across your shoulders as you held him. You moved your head slowly, and Stolas lifted his other arm to grab the side of your face as the two of you brought your faces together. He kissed you furiously, passion that had long been withheld now bubbling to the surface as he expertly used his beak against your snout to bring you physical pleasure, without the hardness of the structure bringing you pain or making you uncomfortable. You kissed him back, but mostly let him take the lead, despite him being the one in your arms.

You were like that for what felt like ages, but it was all done in a single breath, both of you having to separate. The need for air was the only thing stopping you from going longer. Who knew how long the two of you would if you didn’t?

Stolas looked up into your eyes, hand still against your cheek as you supported him. He looked like he was going to cry from happiness.

“Thank you, (Y/N). Tonight was wonderful,” he said, not taking his eyes off you. He had done that for the entire night, save for the moments when he needed to blink. “You know, if you’re truly uncomfortable with where you’re living, I wouldn’t mind making room for you.”

You looked back at him, astonished by his offer. You blinked audibly.

“I don’t mean with me, persay!” Stolas said quickly. “I meant a guest room; you could stay there, in my mansion with me. Unless you—” Stolas cleared his throat, cutting the thought off there. He shifted suddenly, and you helped him up to his feet.

You stood in front of him, his figure silhouetted by the golden light of his mansion, and thought about his offer.

“That’s…generous. Thank you, Stolas. But I have to decline. This is Hell, right? It’s supposed to punish or teach me something, even if I don’t quite know what that is yet. Despite the supposed torture, though, I’ve still found people I care about: I.M.P., Loona especially, and you, Stolas. Besides, Octavia might feel uncomfortable if I stayed at the mansion, and I wouldn’t want to impose. Still, thanks for the offer. I appreciate it.”

You took his hand in yours, lifted it up to your mouth, and pressed your lips against it. Stolas blushed for the nth time that night, not used to the romantic advances and affection you had been giving him. He moved his hand up, cradling your face in his hands. He brought himself down to kiss you once again, wanting to feel you against him one more time. He broke it off sooner this time, and turned to leave through the portal. He gave once last glance, waving back at you.

“You’re very humble, (Y/N). I may not know why you’ve come to Hell, but I’m glad it brought you to me.”

With that, he closed the portal with a smile on his beak.

Where you can read:

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[foxfirestarlight]

Friend

3000~ words.

@bluebearial writes lovely and cute things that inspired us :3

It might be a little scuffed cuz we wrote most of it at 9 pm and the rest at 11 pm the same day but it was fun to reimagine us meeting in something like Bee's world of plushies coming to life with the power of love.

It….Was a dumb idea. Bringing a stuffed toy to college orientation.

Certainly didn't give off a very masculine first impression but like? Could anyone blame you if they knew what steps these shoes have walked?

You were just out of high school when lockdown hit, and took your first year and a half online.

Now, you weren't ever a social butterfly, but even then you at least tried to talk to the people in your classes when they ran into you. That wasn't really an option when you had to ration sharing the family computer to do your coursework.

But you always had Agni sitting nearby to talk to.

…Well, talk isn't really the right word, he was just a doll and you couldn't say anything out loud or mom would think you were going bonkers from her recliner watching her medical dramas. You more just thought up something funny while trying to force yourself to figure out what a letter plus a number in parenthesis minus another number under that funny squiggle and-

Okay long story short you hated math and couldn't wrap your head around it but!! You were GONNA pass if it killed you!!!! But that's, uh, besides the point-

Point is, lockdown wasn't kind to ANYBODY'S social skills and Agni was the closest thing you had to a physical friend in that lonely, scary year, so…why not bring him along? He fit comfortably enough in your backpacks second pocket, though his ears were a bit scrunched.

…And the rest of his head, too. Oog, that had to hurt. You knew it was just a stuffed toy and they had no bones or nerves - well, actually Agni had an armature to make him posable but that's besides the point - you still felt bad enough to open the zipper and let him breathe. And then forgot about that as you headed to the assembly building.

Your eyes promptly went wide as you saw a white ear out of the corner of your eye while swinging your bag around to take a seat. You contemplated shoving him back in or hiding him under your hoodie but in your still teenage panic you were more worried about drawing attention to yourself than anything so you just acted like you.

Meant to bring a cute white stuffed bunny with you to orientation at a big college. Like it was as regular as a beanie.

And nobody really noticed! Or if they did they thought nothing of it. By the time you were at your dorm you were almost ready to pass out from nerves but! You made it!!!

Then your roommate walked in. Was just an ordinary fella, big frame, in glasses, took one look at you hugging your stuffed bunny in your big puffy hoodie, went “it'll get easier, mate”, went to bed, and started snoring worse than your dad.

Grea-tuh.

Lucky you had earbuds.

Your first few weeks were just more orientation and easing into your classes. You took a whole variety of courses cuz…to be honest you were a little bit directionless and had no idea what you wanted to do.

Ish, you wanted to get into YouTube before you learned just much work and luck you needed to put in to even get a FOOTHOLD to succeed kinda. Put the brakes on that one. Hhhh.

You found your hand squeezing Agni’s ear as you listened to your 8th professor this week drone on about something or other. It wasn't like a real bunnies ear, flat like a piece of cloth - it was stuffed. And the only part of him without an armature so it was nice and squishy.

You ran your thumb down its length, squeezing occasionally as you tried not to let the class “loud moans = peak humor” guy get to you.

‘He has to get bored of it eventually.’ He was why you bought noise cancelling headphones. And later quit a class.

Thankfully neither he nor anyone else gave you any crap for carrying around a stuffie of a popular character. Shockingly the same was said about having his little red head poke out of your bag.

You even worked up the courage to try carrying him in your jacket when it got colder out! It was a little wonky because he started slipping but how could you NOT with him looking at you like that?

…..WERE you going a bit bonkers? You could've sworn his vacant expression took on a pleading appearance when you went to take him out. A blink, and he was back to looking doofy confident. With his loose smile and slightly crossed(?) eyes.

As the days wore on and got colder, you felt more and more glad you brought something along with your pillows and blankets. Agni was a special plush, a microwaveable kind, which was good since it was the only appliance the college provided with every dorm.

It was odd, though. It kinda felt like Agg’s was still warm, even hours after sitting in your uninsulated backpack next to a broken heat vent.

Honestly, you started noticing a few odd things surrounding the little….Hang on, you SWORE it could fully fit in your bag last month. Now he could only go neck deep…Did. Did someone replace him with a bigger version?

Uhhhh???

As much as you wished otherwise, taking so many different classes meant you had a butt ton of options for friends….And only one class to work on each. Min-Maxer you certainly ain't. Er, Weren't. Point was, you weren't really a prank target. And your roomie certainly wasn't the type to burn up to 35 dollars buying a limited run doll from halfway across the world.

Back on topic, apart from the apparent size increase, there were a few more oddities to this doll. For starters, you swore it was starting to pose itself. If you dropped a pencil, it almost always wound up near its little nubby fingers.

When you plopped your bag on the dorm desk and flopped onto bed after an exhausting class, by the time you got up to get water the pocket Agni was in was almost completely open with him falling out.

Another odd thing was, it looked like he was steadily becoming overstuffed. Shockingly his stitching held up well against the strain, but unfortunately….

*SHRRRP!* “Aw, No!” It seemed it wouldn't last. With a sigh, you dialed mom to let her know you'd be sending him down to get his legs fixed up but…Something stopped you.

‘Nah, that looks simple enough to fix.’ a little voice whispered to you. ‘Cmon, let's give it a go, those old socks were probably getting tight.’ …Socks? Huh, now that you looked at it again they did look kinda like socks.

Hm.

It was, in fact, not quite that simple to fix up, you ended up buying out the fabric store’s entire sparse black fabric, but they had a surplus of Red, so you had a lot more material to work with.

Eventually, you did manage to make him a new pair of legs. They were a bit loose, and you'd removed and lost the armature somewhere along the way but they held the microwave safe cotton stuff well enough.

And without the armature, Agni was softer and squishier than ever. Though….Okay you DEFINITELY did not add that much stuffing to his chest, and no matter what you tried it didn't smooth out.

Oh, whatever. That'd been your entire weekend and change, at this point you were just glad there weren't any holes in him.

Thankful that your roomie had graduated so you wouldn't feel his concerned gaze as you drove yourself mad and gave yourself several calluses, You quickly passed out in bed clutching your warm, soft, pillow sized friend.

The next morning, you woke up in bed at noon, groggy, dehydrated, hungry, and alone. Odd, you weren't a fitful sleeper, and none of your other plushies had fallen out of your arms before.

Strange, but you did spend half a week driving yourself mad learning a brand new skill during a break….Not your smartest move. Fumbling for your glasses, you thoughtlessly mumbled “Sorry, Aggs,..” to nobody as you toss to your left to look over your bedframe at the floor and likely at your friend.

Nothing.

Huh.

….Maybe they're between the bed and the wall? You toss in that direction, peeling your parched tongue off the roof of your mouth when a voice carries through your haze. “Whatever for? You fixed me up perfectly, why are you apologizing?”

What.

That snapped you to attention, sitting bolt upright and scrambling to press your back to the wall.

Or. You tried to, at least. You unfortunately are a Freezer, rather than a Fighter or Flier, so you instead suffer a jolt throughout your entire body, hug the lip of the covers to your face, and frantically dart your eyes down the length of the dorm room, looking for the intruder.

“Oh dear….I guess that took a bigger toll on you than we both thought, huh?” The deep, womanly voice murmured. Your adrenaline fueled ears heard a shuffle, a tap shut off, some gentle weighted thumps, and sensed motion. In a panicked haze, you squeezed your eyes shut and waited.

*Thmp…Thmp…Thmp…*

*Clink!*

*Creaaaak…* That was your bed. You cracked one eye. You laser focused on the tall glass of grape juice milk set on your bedside. An odd combination but you loved the combination of fruity tang and rich smoothness all the same.

You quickly bounded for it, spilling half of it but quickly guzzling the rest. “Woah-” Ohhhhh that was the stuff…. It was only a second after you noticed the dumbfounded white face framed in red immediately in front of you. “Lucky you we haven't moved our electronics there, ya goof.”

“A…Agni??” Every ounce of levity immediately drained from her round face. “Yeah, you're definitely in no condition to do that final tomorrow.” A glance at the clock. 8:15 PM. A day before one of your summer courses finals was due. Aw fuck…

“Lucky you I got up at your usual time.” You actually managed to process what was folding its arms and pouting in front of you, stretching their big red legs out, and it was. A sight for tired eyes.

It was Agni, as you had fixed him up at least 12 hours prior but a lot bigger. About the size of a Flemish giant you guessed? Or. Or bigger…. Especially in the uh.

Chest.

And tumm- wait was that a zipper? And a heart??? “Um, Sorry about your backpack.” “Did you- waiwha- buh- huh?? Uhh?????”

“.........Uhhhh. Yes, I ate it, don't worry, I think I can pass as one well enough, no, I don't know how I became animate, no I didn't wake you up because you pulled at least two all nighters trying, failing, trying again, nearly giving up, then finally getting my legs right and you deserved it, and no I don't think I need to eat but yes you do smell pasta.”

He…She…The likely figment of your dreams flopped backwards onto your outstretched legs - WOW they were heavy but like a good heavy - to let you see a pot of steaming water on the hotplate you used for a stove. “I figured you'd need it, even if I had to stash it in Tupperware for tomorrow.”

“....When did you turn into a mini my mom.” You were too dumbfounded to add a questioning intonation.

At that, former Agni busted out laughing. A low, quick, nattering sound as she tossed her head back. With a sigh, she added. “Well, since you needed her, of course.” “Huh.” “Uh….Okay where to begin. Uh. So it started when you started leaving a hole for me to let my ears breathe.

Until then, I was just content to be along for the ride, but the night after? I could just…I dunno. I picked something up, then. That night, I could…Hear the voice of your heart?” She sat up, cocking her head to the side. “It was…strange.. Before, when you talked at me while you worked, I didn't feel anything. But since you got here, it just…cried. Cried out for something, anything to try and connect to it.

But you were scared. And after a year without it, who would blame you?” Even if it was true, it didn't sting any less…Nonetheless, you tried to stay tuned into her voice instead of the feelings.

“...And, yeah. I started trying to reach out. Little by little as you held me close to it, I listened. I wanted so badly to help.” You were never one for eye contact. Unconsciously, your eyes turned out the window, at the sparse stars a small amount of light pollution permitted. You could feel her gaze out at them as well.

“I'd like to say it was a wish on one of those, but….Nah. What's important is that I'm….here.” You feel a weight land on your hand and you turn, finally sitting up. “Whatever comes after, comes after.”

With a gentle tug, she pulls you from bed and to your chair, before going to work straining that pasta. You finally have time to rub the crust from your eyes and drink it all in.

This had to be the most elaborate, strange dream ever. God you needed to actually call home, maybe finally go pay mum and pop a visit, see if Iane is-

*Clnk!*

“Here you go! You'll sleep easier with a full belly.” Little miss Agni plopped a beautiful bowl of fresh spaghetti in front of you, then clambered up next to it expectantly. Without anything else to do, you….ate it.

“....Sho-”

“Swallow first.”

“…….So, where's all my stuff if you are…ate my backpack”

“Eheh. No, you were right the first time.”

“Oh, cool.” You quipped, before almost spitting out your spaghetti as she unzipped her tummy and proceeded to pull out your sketchbook from her neon pink innards.

“I think I still have all your pockets as well. There's one on my left leg, between my tummy and chest, in my maof…” As she spoke she pulled out your pencil case, notebook, and charging cables and earbuds.

“So. So I just inexplicably have a new backpack designed after my signature stuffed rabbit, who ripped essentially in half last my few peers know.” “Yup.” “And they know I've been working nonstop to repair it since then.” “Apparently so.” “And that “backpack” has done my summer homework.” “Not really, I just followed your outline with what was in your notebook.” “...Geez, can you slap me?” “No, nevermind, I'll do it myse-”

*PSSH!*

OW!!

“. . . . . Sooooo this isn't a dream, then.”

Clunk.

Your head hit the desk. Uuuuuuhhhhuuu you were way too out of it for this and she seemed to know it. At least you got halfway through the food before crashing.

When you came to, your face was wet, and little miss Agni had marinara around her mouth. “Morning, sleepy!” “...There better not be marinara on my earbuds and charging cable.” “Oh, they're fine, I just accidentally got some on me while cleaning up.” She says, wiping it. “Well, cool.”

You stand up, hearing and feeling SEVERAL pops and clicks as you stretch and scan the room. Looks like she started cleaning while you were out, the whole place had been a mess of red fabric, memory foam, little microwave beads, and who cares what other refuse a hyper fixated college student produced, and now it was all gone.

“...How did you. Do all of this?” You ask, fishing a can of OJ from the fridge and cracking it open. The wonders of the modern age-

“With my paws?” It was then you noticed the Velcro on them, and then the open computer she sat in front of. “What are you doing on my computer?”

“Uhhhhhhhhhsecret.” She scooted in front of it when you leaned to peek. And again. This went on for several minutes. Eventually you got fed up and scooped her up. “OI!!!” She kicked quite hard for a weighted Flemish giant plushie. “ Don't be so liftable next time, nerd.” You tease, causing her to twist from licking your chest to your face-

“Wha, OW, HEY!!” you half chuckle, dropping her like a sack of flour as you read the page she was on.

Names.com.

Opened to the page “Rei”. Long story short, in Japanese it means “Beautiful” and in Hebrew it means “Companion”.

Kicking you in the shin hard enough to knock you over, she brought you down to her level. “Don't pry into a girls business!”

“Do…Do you not like the name Agni?” She…Looked away. “...I think I've outgrown it. And I don't like it anymore.” That made you pause. “Is it because its-”

“Yes.”

“Hhhuh. Well, alrighty then Rei.” Her face lit up. “So, Rei, wanna go back to bed then? I dunno how much I'll sleep but I probably shouldn't stay up all night, right Rei?” At every utterance of the word the child-sized stuffed toy bounced on her feet more and more until she was hopping in place.

“I'll take that as a yes.” You mutter as you slip under the covers. She's there with you half a second later, warm as a bun fresh from the oven. Hah! Wordplay.

You expect to feel your things clattering around inside her as you cuddle up, but no surprisingly, it's like hugging a cloud!

A very warm, dry, soft, cushy cloud……..

Before you know it, you're drifting off. And as you do, you start to hear another steady thrumm alongside that of your heart.

Maybe “hear” is the wrong word, more “feel”. “Sense”? But it's there. And it stayed there for 3 more long years. But they didn't seem quite so long.

And Rei kept growing. And growing. And growing, until she barely fit in most buildings. Quite honestly you're glad it stopped there, it was getting harder and harder to explain to people why you had a 12 foot bunny doll in your house-

But you were glad. Glad that, no matter what happened, you'd always have a Beautiful, Cushy Companion in Rei.

[wisteriasymphony]

WIP WTHURSDAY - snagging from @bittersweetresilience because i want to join in on the fun too :33

Context: This is for a later chapter in The Warm Embrace of Shadow. To anybody not familiar with the AU, I apologize for the psychic damage incurred by Kagami being Like That. She's just a girl it's not her fault

The tea table was long enough that either of them would have to shout to be heard, meaning that any real and fruitful conversation was out of the question. While the binds around its wrists and ankles kept Adrien mostly restrained to his chair, there was enough slack in them to barely lift himself off and look over the assortment of tea cakes and towers of sweets over to Kagami, who was taking a sip of earl grey. Adrien's eyes went back on the deserts. If his previous experiences gave any indication, only ten percent (at best) would be eaten with the remaining ninety percent being tossed into the garbage. There was no telling what did or did not have chocolate in it, either, so any bite of the sugary stuff could trigger his gag reflex. Starving was clearly his only option here. “Good afternoon,” Kagami finally spoke, officially beginning the whole charade. She moved stiffly, rehearsedly, as if her chains were even shorter than Adrien’s own. “Your face has changed once more, I see. I understand it now. You are incomplete without your misery, so you must make it visible.” Adrien clicked his tongue, sneering “The story is that I broke my nose from falling down the stairs.” Kagami hummed in response. “What are lives if not a collection of stories?” He couldn’t tell if that was meant to be sympathetic or mocking. Not to mention how ridiculously trite it sounded. Adrien flicked his wrist—the chain snapped back and forth along with the movement, and yet it did not break. It was tempting to Cataclysm his restraints just to free himself, but Adrien was hoping that he would give Kagami reasons to hate him without having to rely on revealing himself as Chat Noir. After all, if Chat was still alive, it was only a matter of time before Ladybug tried to actually kill him. Adrien had every reason to believe she’d succeed in that, and while death was tempting, another meeting with that tyrant was not.  Speaking of omnipresent tyranny… "In our brief departures from one another, there was ample opportunity to reconvene with my mother, as you so... harshly requested," Kagami spoke, in that voice she always put on. "May it come to your attention that what it set in stone cannot be easily undone, not when the stonecarver refuses to put down the chisel." Adrien merely rolled his eyes, his chains clinking some more as he reluctantly went to pour himself a cup of his own tea. "Is your chair bolted to the floor too, Kagami?" was all he asked. Kagami's initial silence made it clear that, out of anything he could've said, he wasn't supposed to ask that.  "...A flea in a lidless jar will only jump to the height of the lip and no further. Such lids are only closed when the flea is not properly trained." "Just bring your chair closer, I don't want to have to yell over to you." Kagami stopped again. "...No."

No pressure towards anyone tagged! (And sorry to anybody if I retagged lol) @silliersiluriforme @isabugs @bakawitch @official-vampire-business :3

[kathbunny]

So on the discord there's a fake dating superhero au and I wrote some stuff for it

Basic lore first:

Maxim is a retired superhero who's a friend of VR-LA's, who investigates and unretires to try to save VR-LA under the belief he's been mind controlled

Vhas is a supervillain who's mostly just having fun, not really intentionally killing anybody. Just disregards the law and then steals or destroys something. He's got powers based on his voice, siren-like. People don't really know the full extent due to him mostly having fun, so their imaginations run wild.

VR-LA is a superhero who has realized the organization he worked for is evil after his entire team (the old crew) excluding him is declared dead after what was actually a kidnapping by some other supervillain caused by a betrayal from a team member (similar to canon, only MR-SN is actually dead). Him escaping and knowing the truth threatens both his organization and whatever plan is going on with his team.

Due to the above, VR-LA has to plan a way to avoid being killed or disappearing, so he asks Vhas to help him. His whole idea is that if he's a villain, with a paper trail, it'd be very obvious if he suddenly went missing after a fight with a hero (as they want him alive), and a trail would be demanded by the public and the government (especially due to his sudden changing of sides). And, if they fake his death, he'd have somebody who knows the truth in Vhas. Vhas is essentially the safest option for various reasons.

It will end in poly, that's the plan.

Below is what I wrote on the discord as a tidbit and a bit more! I edited some changes in too for those in the discord rereading!

VR-LA stepped into the dark building, an old warehouse that had been abandoned months ago. He tried to ignore the skittering of rats or movements in the shadows as he walked through, electricity sparking off his hands to give him light. It was barely enough, only letting him see silhouettes anywhere past a few feet away. He stopped at the center, spotting a shadowy figure sitting on a chair. "...Vhas." He greeted.

"Hey, mate." The figure, Vhas, returned, lounging in his chair like he wasn't talking to a hero that could slam him into the concrete, but instead to a friend in his own house. "Surprised you actually showed up alone, sparky. Thought this might be a trick."

"I don't lie when I say I need help." VR-LA said, clenching his fists. "You were the safest option. You avoid civilian harm, but you're powerful." Saying that felt like pulling on teeth.

"Am I now?" Vhas said, leaning forward slightly, eyes seeming to glint in the dark. "What do you need my help with though, sparky? Best not to keep me in the dark here, mate."

VR-LA gritted his teeth. "The organization I work for falsely claimed my team to be dead. They were kidnapped, they're alive." VR-LA said. "I know this, so I'm a target. I need protection and a place to hide while I investigate. And I need to be seen as a villain so that it's harder to just get rid of me."

Vhas chuckled, the sound eerie and slow. "Well, if you're going to get my help, you'll have to do it my way." He reached for something in his pocket and suddenly the warehouse was lit up with shitty colorful LED light strips. "Let's make this fun, 'ight, sparky?"

VR-LA had to stop himself from gritting his teeth at that. "Define your way here." He crossed his arms, trying to gather up at least a little bit of intimidating energy.

Vhas stood, flouncing his way over to VR-LA and circling as he spoke. "Well, you need a believable reason for why you're a villain now, mate, and you'll need to do real things to be seen as one."

"...I'm aware."

"So, I have a thought for the first one!" Vhas declared, stopping in front of VR-LA. "How about pretending to date, sparky? People love those sorts of stories, it'll spread like wildfire."

VR-LA wasn't fond of that, his frown intensifying.

"Ah, ah, before you say anything, I don't care about ya like that, I just think it'd be funny." Vhas said, waving his hand idly. "Plus, I wanna get something outta this too. My price is entertainment, and that's cheap. You don't even gotta do that much, just rob a few banks, vandalism. The works!"

"...fine then." VR-LA agreed.

Vhas put a hand out to shake, smirking.

"I'm still actively letting off electricity."

"...eh, I'm fine getting shocked." Vhas shrugged lazily.

VR-LA took his hand, perhaps more roughly than he should have, the shock going through Vhas's arm making him yelp.