#could actually happen in real life and I really do hope I can write something half as good some day | Explore Tumblr posts and blogs

kitimeq · 6 months ago

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-ˋˏ ༻❁ surprise encounter 🤍 sylus 秦 ❀༺ ˎˊ-

❀˖°pairing: sylus x reader

❀˖°summary: You’ve been playing love&deepspace ever since the game came out and it became your comfort place now. You like all of the boys, but you have the highest affinity with sylus, who had your heart in a grasp ever since the beginning. Who would’ve thought that he shares the sentiment? And after your monthly absence from the game, he decides to pay you a little visit and finally confess to all of it (and maybe kind of try to kidnap you in the process too oho).

❀˖° tropes: fluff, angst to fluff, fluff to angst to fluff? fluff to angst to fluff to angst to fluff???? idk angst with happy ending!

❀˖°word count: no idea, it goes on for days sorry. (7k!!)

❀˖°warning!: i apologize for any mistakes, i am not a native speaker of english!! if you see any errors you can write me a dm and i will correct them for sure ♡ and i think it gets better later! i can’t write for shi, especially the beginnings, and the second part was fueled by my delulu so it is probably much more fun to read 🤍

•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*•̩̩͙

You liked days like these: quiet days, lazy ones, when you didn’t have any errands to run, meetings to attend, or people to please. You could just stay inside for the whole day, reading your favorite books and playing cozy games, spending your time however you wanted. Today was Saturday and you didn’t have to go to work until Monday and you decided that you finally deserved to have some rest after the last couple of weeks of almost working yourself to the bone due to the amount of the assingments you had to complete at work. You often had to stay after hours or work from home to complete everything in time. Your work was not usually that challenging, but there were certain times of the year when everyone at your job had their hands full and when it happened, you were almost completely cut off not only from your social, but also personal life. However, you never complained, because you actually liked what you were doing, and even if the occasional hard times were inevitable, your work brought you so much fun and satisfaction.

And today was a good day! You finally finished everything you had to do, so you could go back to your favourite game. You didn’t have time to play recently due to the amount of work, up to the point that you didn’t even bother to check in to grab some stamina. Usually, love&deepspace was an important part of your day - you logged in there at least twice a day, completed every task thrown your way and had a blast doing so, but these couple of weeks were so hard for you that you almost forgot about it completely. But even if you were too busy, you thought about the boys from time to time, as well as about the events that you were probably missing out on. You really hoped that if some new events had taken place during that time, that they did not involve Sylus, because if you had missed them, you would be slightly devastated.

Sylus was your favorite. Ever since the beginning, there was something about him that caught your attention. You downloaded the game after his announcement and haven’t looked back since. You played with other boys as well, but your time with Sylus was always the most memorable. Not only was he extremely attractive in your eyes, as well as the eyes of other players around the world, but you also understood his character, adored his little jokes and mannerisms, and could safely say that he made your life a little more exciting. You knew that it probably sounded lame to someone who didn’t play such games, and you were aware that he wasn’t real, but you enjoyed yourself regardless. In your real life, you had some experience with men and were pretty popular among them; however, you never felt comfortable enough to form more serious romantic relationships.

Here, with Sylus, you didn’t have to worry about such things. You were aware that he was only a game character and maybe that was why you were so honest with him from the very beginning. You knew that he wouldn’t judge you, misstreat you or make you miserable - he was created in a way that was supposed to make your playthrough enjoyable so you didn’t have to worry about your responses in the messages for him or your real life reactions to everything he said or did. You could just be yourself. And you loved how freeing that felt.

That is why you felt so excited ever since you woke up. Because you knew that today you could finally go back to playing l&d, and you could meet up with your Sylus after so much time apart. You quickly did your chores, spent some time on self-care to slightly relieve the fatigue from the weeks before, you put on your favourite cozy outfit and finally clicked the ”enter game” button.

And there he was. Sylus was standing in the cafe, wearing his extremally attractive biker outfit and you caught yourself sighing dreamily at the sight of him. You missed him so bad, you missed the little memories you shared and the sound of his voice. You missed playing kitty cards with him, catching plushies together and even looking for that bastard Tobias again and again. You couldn’t help but smile brightly at him.

“Hi Sylus, you have no idea how happy I am to see you.” You said cheerfully, feeling kind of dumb for it but you couldn’t help yourself. You often talked out loud to him during your playtime.

You watched him blink slowly once, then twice, and you started to think that there was something wrong with the server because his response should have already been uttered. But then the look on his face changed. At first, he appeared really shocked and relieved, but then a little frown appeared between his perfect little eyebrows.

“Where the hell have you been?” He responded quickly and it shocked you. You didn’t know that they could swear in the game, but after connecting some dots you figured that it had to be included in the special responses after the player was away for some time.

“At work mostly, been so busy lately but now I’m back and ready to defeat some Wanderers!!” You fist bumped the air above you, you couldn’t contain your excitement.

You also noticed that his expression stayed the same. He was silent, looking at you through your phone screen with bewilderment, and he looked almost hurt. In an attempt to provide some comfort to him, you swiped your finger gently through his hair and across his cheek. However, when you touched his cheek, he closed his eyes and nuzzled into your finger, which made you widen your eyes in surprise. Was that always a thing? Was he always so responsive to your touch? It had to be a new feature; you didn’t remember him being so lively.

“Next time you decide to leave me without a word, I think I’m going to take more drastic measures, sweetie” He said while opening his eyes. You couldn’t help but notice he did look different than usual. More… realistic? Even the way in which he moved his body looked so smooth.

“If not for Mephisto, I would have worried sick about your safety. You can't do this to me every time you have more work than usual; you have to visit me, even if it's just for a minute. I won't exaggerate when I say that I almost went insane after the first week of your cruel silence” And at that you were completely stunned. Should he talk this much? He never talked this much. And how could he know that you had more work than usual? Was that a lucky guess on the studio’s side?

“That’s so weird…” You whispered and touched his hand to trigger some kind of reaction that would appear more usual than what was happening right now.

“Is that your way of catching me off guard? If you wanted to hold my hand so badly kitten, then you would have visited me sooner. I will not let myself be distracted by your cute little behavior” He raised the hand you touched and crossed his arms at his chest, while continuing to frown. And you were still so, so confused.

“Promise me that you won’t leave me again, I know where to find you now.” You raised your eyebrows and bit your lip gently. You started to feel a little bit out of place, you knew that he was not real, but he sounded kind of scary. His voice was demanding, and the part about him finding you? You shivered involuntarily.

“What happened? Cat got your tongue, kitten? Or did you finally understood the selfishness of your actions?” Sylus continued and you opened your mouth in awe. “Promise. Me.” He said slowly, his gaze unnerving. Suddenly you heard a series of loud caws outside on your balcony. The sound made you jump in place, and you dropped your phone on your bed. Was that a freaking crow?? Outside your apartament???

You quickly picked up your phone and cursed softly. You were going insane. You got scared just because the game had an update you did not know about. You almost wanted to laugh at how stupid that was. Almost. Because Sylus walked up to the front of your phone screen and spoke to you again.

“Why are you hesitating? Are you really planning to leave me again?” You swore you never heard him so hurt.

“No!” You said before you could think.

“No?” He answered immediately, which scared the hell out of you. “I am not sure I believe you. And I can’t stand it. I can’t stand being away from you anymore.” He took two steps back and closed his eyes.

That was when the game crashed. Your phone appeared to be broked too, after the colourful lines appeared on the screen, flickered a couple of times and the whole screen turned black. You threw the device away from you and your heart started beating so fast you could hear the blood pulsing in your ears. You were so confused and genuinely scared. Was there an update that switched the genre of the game to horror? You were stunned.

And then you heard the knock.

You almost jumped out of your slippers. You brought your hand to your heart in order to calm yourself down and you started taking slow, deep breaths. It’s just a game. It’s just a game. Besides, how did Sylus, of all people, managed to scare you so badly? You adored that character, and you should know that he was prone not only to exaggeration, but also to intimidating behavior. That was literally one of his characteristics. So you forced yourself to calm down and opened the damn door, because it was probably either a mailman, or one of your friendly neighbors, and here you were making a scene like some kind of a delusional psychopath.

One. Two. Three.

You opened the door, and at first all you could see was a huge cloud of black mist. You closed your eyes in order to keep the mist from clouding your vision and then you felt wind pushing you gently further into your apartament. You heard the door close and the sound of the key turning in the lock. Everything happened so fast. And when you opened your eyes your knees almost buckled.

Sylus.

Sylus was all you could see. He was standing in front of you, in your own apartament, looking so out of place that you wanted to laugh. The first thing that you noticed about him was that he was huge, you couldn’t really see past him, and the more you looked at him, the more real he appeared to be. Soft-looking silver hair, rugged skin, that perfect nose and those piercing eyes. They looked into yours now, and at first they seemed to be searching for something, and after one quick second they visibly softened. You could also see how his handsome, oh so handsome mouth started to display his signature little smirk. And that was when you started to tremble.

“W-wha—” You tried to say something, anything but your mouth was not working. You have never been so confused and scared in your entire life. “Who—W-who are—” He was starting to close the distance between you and that is when the panic finally took over your body. You flinched and went to take a step back, but you slipped on your soft carpet.

Yet you didn’t fall. You felt the gentle caress of the mist that managed to caught you before you hit the ground, and it streightened your posture so that now you stood tall in front of the man.

“Careful kitten, I do not think that falling on four feet applies to you.” He spoke out loud for the first time and the voice was so familiar to you. It was the same, deep, husky timbre that you loved to hear, the same voice that made you squeal in happiness, that lulled you to sleep countless of times. You couldn’t believe it.

“Oh my god, am I dead?” He laughed softly at your reaction and looked at you through his lashes. “This can’t be happening.”

“Oh but it is. I knew that I would find my way to you, I just needed time.” He said and tried to close the distance between you, but you didn’t let him. Every step forward he took, you took one back. “It was so hard to find you. But after you disappeared without saying a word I think I got desperate.” Something flashed in his eyes. You recognized it as determination.

He stopped walking when he noticed that you were getting too close to the balcony. He straightened his posture, and you almost released a gasp. He was huge. And he was real. Alive and so, so real, that you had trouble breathing. You were so scared, but at the same time, so happy to see him, that your body didn’t know how it should react. You just looked at him, taking him in, trying to assess whether it wasn’t your mind playing tricks on you, or if it wasn’t some random man breaking into your apartment and your brain had created a new, fantastic defense mechanism. But no, the longer you took him in, the more similarities you managed to notice: the scar in the corner of his eye, his unevenly clipped fingernails, strong but dry hands, olive skin, slim lips, long, slightly furrowed eyebrows. The not-so-hidden gentleness in his gaze as he was taking you in himself.

“It’s really you.” You managed to breathe out.

“You’re so beautiful.” He answered and his voice was slowly starting to make you feel these familiar butterflies. “So, so magnificent.” He continued. You felt your cheeks heat up and he seemed to drink that reaction in. “Will you talk to me more? You sound angelic. I did not think that you could sound even better than you did through the phone but I guess you will never fail to surprise me, sweetheart.” He did not move an inch. He just looked at you, and you still didn’t know how to react, but you were slowly coming to terms with the fact that it was not a weird dream. He was here and he didn’t appear to have bad intentions. At least you wanted to believe that.

“You’re still trembling. Are you really that scared of me?” He pressed his lips into a line.

“I’m sorry. I just… I’m just not sure what is happening. I had no idea you were… real.” He laughed softly at that.

“You wound me, kitten. Is that your way of unleashing your little claws?” He continued with a small smile on his lips and you couldn’t take it. He looked… stressed. And you thought that was new for him. You spend so many hours playing with him in l&d but you have never seen him so stressed.

Everything that came out of his mouth was slow and precise, not a word was spoken without a purpose. However you could see by his appearance that he was uncertain.

“Of course I’m real. And all the time we spent together is real too. Was it so wrong of me to expect that you would be at least a little bit happier to see me?” He was starting to look hurt. But not angry, not displeased. More concerned than anything, and that was when most of your worries started to disappear. He was your Sylus. He really was.

“I am happy to see you. I really am.” You said truthfully, the fear slowly dissolving. “What are you doing here? How did it happen?”

“When you left me, I was worried to death. I had to come see that you were alright for myself.” He said, not taking his eyes off of you. “I found a path between our worlds, and first I sent Mephisto after you. And that was how I knew you were fine, just busy.” He started explaining slowly and put two fingers at the bridge of his nose. This gesture was so familiar that you felt a slight pang in your chest. “Which l understand. But you stopped visiting completely and I panicked that I lost you. And that you lost your interest in me. And when you logged in today I guess I just lost control over myself.”

“I had to see you. I had to feel you. I needed to know that you will never leave me like that again. But how could I be so sure if you thought I was not real, sweetie?” His voice carried a hint of a ridicule. He smirked slowly and you allowed yourself to relax. You spend so much time with him on your phone, that you knew when he really needed reassurance. And it was the first time you saw him being so honest about his own feelings.

You decided to step closer to him and his eyes widened slightly. His body tightened because of the sudden change in proximity, and when you gently touched his hand bringing it to your mouth, he appeared to be rendered speechless.

“I would never leave you, Sy. At least not without saying goodbye first. You are my safe space, remember?” You said quietly and smiled at him brightly, reminding him of what you had written in your game bio. And then you brought his knuckles to your lips and placed a soft kiss upon them. His hands were much warmer than you expected them to be. They felt harsh, but gentle.

The next thing you heard was a soft grunt and you felt yourself being suddenly lifted in the air. You yelped and found yourself pressed against his big, solid chest. Sylus hugged your body to his by wrapping both of his arms around your torso, and when he realized that you weren’t comfortable, he put one hand under your thighs and brought your body to his by your waist. You let your arms wrap around his neck and squeezed, and he buried his head in the crook of your neck. You heard him inhale your scent and his breath became rigged, as if he could not contain his excitement. You also became familiar with his scent. He smelled so manly and comforting, you could catch some notes of wood and leather, and something surprisingly sweet.

“You smell divine. You’re so soft, so warm.” He breathed against your neck and you felt goosebumps spreading throughout your whole body. You were so embarrassed, you felt like you needed to release some tension.

“I did not expect you to be so open with me. You’re usually the teasing type.” He chucked deeply and put his forehead against yours, while closing his eyes. Your cheeks burned. You couldn’t believe it wasn’t a dream.

“There will be a time for teasing you, kitten.” He rubbed his forehead against yours slowly. “Right now let me enjoy you for a bit. I can’t believe I finally got to see you.” He squeezed you harder to him. You reciprocated the hug with all you had. You were actually kind of scared that your grip was too hard, but he seemed to bask in it. “Communicating through that small device was not nearly enough for me. I could always see you and I heard your little responses to everything I was saying. But it took me some time to figure out how to change some things up.” Your eyes went wide at the mention of your reactions, you knew that a lot of times there were beyond embarrassing, but you decided your blush to speak for itself. But what truly caught your attention was how he managed to appear in your home.

“Change things up?? You must have made such a mess, will it really be okay?” The concern in your voice made him look up and find your eyes with his. You were now looking at his beautiful red ones, so full of adoration and determination. You could see that the consequences of his actions did not matter to him at all.

“Sweetie, I would gladly burn the world down for you, even if it meant that I could see you just once.” You swallowed audibly and proceeded to shy away from his piercing gaze. You started to feel unworthy of such attention, you couldn’t quite grasp what exactly made him care about you to such extend. “Fortunately for everyone, the process did not involve starting an intergalactic war.” He smirked slowly, his eyes finding your lips and staying there for much longer than necessary. “Yet.”

You chuckled at that and proceeded to bury your fingers in his hair, stroking the strands with care. They were so soft to the touch, they reminded you of silk. He closed his eyes and let you touch him to your heart’s content. Your hand quickly found its way to his forehead, and then to his cheek, stroking the skin delicately. You couldn’t believe how someone so handsome could really exist.

“See something you like, kitten?” He said and nuzzled into your palm, pressing a kiss right there. “You will have all the time in the world to touch me when we arrive in the N109 Zone.” He seemed so peaceful, so content with himself, but the mention of the N109 Zone stopped you in your tracks. You tensed visibly and he opened his eyes, noticing the change in your posture.

“The N109 Zone?” You asked puzzled. “Are you taking me away for a weekend?” You took your hand from his face and he used his Evol to bring it back to his cheek. The mist around your fingers felt weird, but not unpleasant.

“For a weekend? No, no.” He locked his eyes with yours, his head slowly closing the distance between you. He licked his lips and looked at your mouth once again. “I am taking you away for forever.” And before his lips managed to touch yours, you flinched. Your hands quickly pushed him away and the panic returned to your features.

“What do you mean by that?”

“I meant what I said. Pack your bags if you believe there is something that I cannot provide for you quickly enough, and we will be off shortly.” He said matter of factly, kind of annoyed by the distance you decided to put between you. “Luke and Kieran have already prepared a room for you, although I think that you will have more than enough space for your belongings in mine.” His eyes brightened with excitement that you unfortunately could not share. Instead, you lightly pushed his torso, making him lower you to the ground grudgingly. His brows were once again furrowed.

“I can’t go with you Sylus. At least, not for forever”

“You can. We can stay together for the rest of our lives and no one would have any objections. I took care of everything.” He reached to grab your forearm and stroked it softly with his thumb. He was so sure of everything he was saying that you could feel how much he let himself get lost in his fantasy. It did make you feel wanted, loved even. But no matter how happy you were that he was real, and apparently shared your feelings, you couldn’t agree to his plan.

“No, Sylus. I need to stay here, I have built my whole life in this place.” You could feel how much your words shocked him. He was looking at you so puzzled as if he didn’t think that you declining his offer was even an option. “I can’t leave everything that I managed to achieve, I really am content with my life, despite how complicated it can be.” You said truthfully. A part of you wanted to go with him, to feel safe and cherished for, for the rest of your life but you knew that was not realistic. You wanted to achieve more, you wanted to have your own life and your own space. You needed to be independent, to feel that you were perfectly capable of caring for yourself and your own needs.

“I do not understand. Don’t you want to be with me?” It pained you how quickly he jumped to that conclusion. And you hated the look on his face - it made you feel like you were betraying him.

”I do want to! Oh my god— I really, really do want to Sylus. I don’t think that I can live without spending time with you anymore.” You smiled at him, and took hold of his huge, rugged hand. “But I can’t live with you in the N109 Zone. I can’t leave my whole life behind.” And the fact that he wanted to make you do that somewhat scared you. Made you feel distressed.

“I see.” He sounded deep in thought. Then, he broke the eye contact for a second, looked at his hand in your hold and before you could even react, he grabbed your body gently with his Evol and picked you up. Your whole body was above ground and although you felt secured, you looked at him with surprise.

“What are you doing?” You wanted to get free from the hold of the mist, but it was impossible with how tight it was. “Sylus, you have to let me go.” You tried not to panic, you knew that you weren’t in danger. But he looked relentless, unforgiving as if his mind was already set in stone.

“No. I can’t. Not now when I finally got to have you.” He looked up at you, with his eyebrows still furrowed, and you could hear a hint of a growl in his voice. “If you do not wish to go with me, I guess I would have to take you by force.”

It was then that you felt a sense of panic. You knew him, and you knew that if he wants something, he always gets it. It just did not cross your mind that he would ever go against your own wishes.

“No. No, no, no, Sylus, please calm down.” He narrowed his eyes and stood motionless before you, his face devoid of almost any emotion. Almost, if not for the desperation shining through his watchful eyes. “You cannot take me away. At least not for now. But I will do anything you ask me to! You can also stay here for some time, and visit me whenever you want to, I swear, I would be so happy to have you.” You just needed him to listen. You knew that you could change his mind, he always listened to what you had to say, he just needed a little bit of persuasion. Maybe he didn’t even think about alternative options?

“And I would make you happy in the N109 Zone with me.” You laughed with disbelief. He was completely missing your point. You decided to once again yank your hands from the grasp of his mist, and then hissed with pain when it did not loosen up its hold. “Your struggle is futile, please stop, I do not wish for you to get hurt.” He was annoyed with you and your disobedience. He did not think that you would have any objections, he started loosing his cool.

“You would never let me get hurt.” You answered, wanting to assure yourself of it as well. You didn’t like how commanding he sounded.

“Yes.” There was no doubt in his voice. “Yes, you know I would stop at nothing to protect you.” His gaze never wavered from yours. He truly thought that what he was doing was for the best. And you just had to let him know how wrong his approach was.

“Yes! Yes I do know that! Because I know you, Sy.” You started to sound as if you were pleading. Deep down it scared you, send uncomfortable shivers down your spine. “I know you, and I know that you also know me.”

He placed his hand on his heart.

“And I adore every single piece of information. And I still wish to know you much, much better.” You tensed when you noticed that his right eye was starting to glow. You did not know if that was intentional, or just a trick of the light.

“Then you MUST know how much this life means to me. How much I like my stupid job, and how much I love the people that are here for me. My friends, my family.” You noticed that your reasoning started to get to him when he clenched his fists and avoided your eyes for a second. “And you have to know how much it would hurt me if you were to take me away from them.” He appeared taken aback. It seemed that his longing for you clouded his judgement, and now he started to notice the faults in his plan.

“But I cannot stand to be apart from you anymore, sweetie.” In normal circumstances that would be so touching to you. But nothing about this situation was normal, and you guessed you just had to show him how normal looked like.

“You won’t be. You can visit me anytime you want. Stay for how long you want.” You wanted that too. So bad.

“But that is not ENOUGH.” It was the first time you heard his raised voice and you started to tremble. His outburst must’ve thrown him off guard too, because he wavered and the grip he had on you loosed. You acted instinctively. You freed yourself from the mist and started to run towards your door. And although he was stunned by your reaction, he quickly teleported so that you ran straight into his chest. His hands grabbed yours in order to protect you from falling due to the impact.

He gently caressed your now slightly red forehead and sighed loudly. You could hear that he was hurt. You cried out from frustration.

“If you really thought that you could run away from me then you must be a total fool.” He tucked your hair behind your ear and lifted your chin up with his finger. “Usually I like playing cat and mouse with you, but I do not like the fact that you appear genuinely scared of me right now.” He hugged your waist and brought you closer to him, lowering his head at the same time. “And that you tried to run away from me when I only want to offer you my protection.”

“It doesn’t sound like protection, it sounds like imprisonment.” You used strong words, but you sounded so small. You did not know what to do with him, you were so scared. ”I’m just scared. I tried to run away because you scared me, Sylus.” You sounded desperate for him to understand you. To look past his own clouded vision.

“You do not have to fear me. I just want what is best for you. For us.” His grip on your waist tightened, and he also proceeded to grab your wrist.

“No. You only want what is best for you. You are not listening to me. I do care about you Sylus, but I cannot leave this place.” You tried to stand your ground but you two never argued before. It was an unfamiliar ground to you, especially when it was the first time that you had a conversation in person. Everything felt more intense and dangerous when you remembered the extreme measures he was always willing to take to achieve his goals.

“You can. And I will make you leave.” He almost growled and a cloud of black and red mist surrounded both of you, and that was enough to bring tears into your eyes.

”Sylus, no, please, I don’t want to. Please, just listen to me, please.” And it was at that moment he started to came into his senses. Your quiet voice and your eyes full of tears made his breathing stop. It was the first time he was seeing you react like this. He hated how broken you sounded. How small. “I’m so scared, Sy, please stop scaring me.” Your voice sounded choked and you could feel that the tears started streaming down your face. Every single one physically hurt him. It was your first meeting and he already made you so miserable. He wanted to scream. “Please.” You tried once again and it shocked you that it finally worked on him.

He tensed and released you from his grip. The mist also dissipated as he took a step back from you. You could hear him breathing deeply.

“I cannot do this." He sounded panicked. “I did not want to scare you, and I cannot listen to your little broken pleas. They break my heart.” He hidden his face in his hands and curled in himself. He felt as if someone pierced his heart with a knife and twisted it. He could not bring himself to look at your beautiful heartbroken face again. “They really do. Please, just stop crying. You won.”

You sniffed softly and touched your wet cheeks. You tried to calm yourself down, he finally listened to you.

“It does not feel so good this time for some reason.” You answered, referring to your Kitty Card battles. You wanted to relieve the tension somehow. You knew that he didn’t want to hurt you, you understand that he lives in a different reality where danger awaits everywhere. You could understand why he wanted to have you beside him at all times. But it scared you how insistent he was, how brutal and final. “Do you really understand why I got so scared?”

He nodded helplessly. “I won’t steal you away. Not when I know how much you despise the idea of spending the rest of your time with me.” You noticed how hard he was pressing his hands to his face and you grabbed them in your own. He let you uncover his eyes and you saw how much it hurt him to let you go.

“Oh, Sy.” You whispered and hugged his hands to your chest. “You know that’s not the reason.”

“Stop calling me that. It drives me crazy.” He breathed and met your eyes. “You drive me crazy. What am I going to do with you? How can I make sure you are safe now?” You took his hands and made him follow you into your bedroom. You sat on your bed and urged him to do the same. This way you could finally talk with him more comfortably.

“Sylus, we have to talk about it.” You squeezed his hands and he looked at yours and took notice of how much smaller they were in comparison to his. So fragile, so breakable. He couldn’t stand it. His whole body longed to protect you. “I do not despise the idea of spending my time with you. I just can’t randomly leave everything I know and love. And this world is different from the one you know, we have our dangers but no one wants my head.” You explained to him slowly. “There are no Wanderers. No protocores.” He looked conflicted.

“I already know that sweetheart. I do. But when you disappeared for such a long time I couldn’t help but think that something bad happened to you” he gritted through his teeth. “I nearly lost my mind looking for you everywhere. It was terrifying, that thought in my mind and the idea that I would never have another chance to speak with you. To see you.” He touched your forearms and brought you a little closer to him. “And when Mephisto found you safe and sound I thought that I never want to feel that fear, that helplessness again. And the only way to do that is to keep you beside me at all times. To guard you with my own body and soul.” He took your hand and rested it on his chest. You could feel the fast and steady rhythm of his heart. You could feel his desperation, his complete devotion. And it almost made you tear up.

“I-I’m so sorry that I made you worry this much.” He studied your face with intention and you shake your head. “But I didn’t even know that you were real. I really thought it was just a game that made me feel less alone and now…” You swallowed audibly. “Now I know that everything I built with you during our time together was very much real and I’m still having trouble to wrap my head around it to be honest.” You smiled at him softly and he nodded with understanding.

“And then you came in and wanted to kidnap me to a world much more dangerous than mine where I do not have my close ones and—”

“I did NOT mean for that to be a kidnapping I though that you shared my sentiment, and also wanted to spend some time—”

“SOME time?? Sylus you wanted me to switch literal worlds and live with you in your freaking villa in the middle of nowhere—”

“I live in an apartment that has a fantastic location, mind you, and you would feel so comfortable in—”

”Apartament??? You cannot possibly be a freaking leader of Onychinus and live in an apartment complex, are you being serious with me right now??”

“Have you ever heard of a saying that the darkest place is under the candlestick, kitten? Besides there is no one in the whole N109 Zone that would pose an actual threat to me—” He cut off when he met your eyes full of laughter, and then he heard that beautiful sound. You burst into giggles right in front of him and you touched him by the bicep and brought his forehead to yours. He couldn’t help but chuckle too, understanding the absurdity of the situation. Feeling your forehead against his, hearing your adorable chuckles and inhaling your sweet scent made him feel so at peace that he closed his eyes to embrace the moment completely. He couldn’t believe that he almost ruined your relationship by being so selfish.

“I missed this. This back and forth with you” You said and he chucked deeply. “I really am happy to see you, Sy. And I swear that we will be able to talk and spent time with each other more often now. And actually see each other in person.” He nuzzled into your face more and you caught his smirk by the corner of your eye. “We can stay in touch at all times, so that you won’t have to worry about my safety so much.”

“So bossy, kitten.” He answered, but the small smile did not leave his face. He couldn’t make it go away even if he tried. “Forgive me for scaring you earlier. I was not thinking straight. I was just so elated to finally have you in my arms that I let my selfishness get the best of me, and for that I’m sorry. I did not want to ruin our first meeting, sweetie.” You hugged him by bringing your arms around his chest and he closed his eyes drinking in the proximity. You were too small, too adorable, too attractive for him to take it. Too honest. Too lovable. Made just for him to adore. To protect.

“You did not ruin anything.” You said into his shirt, hugging him tighter. “I understand you, Sylus. And I like you a little selfish if it means that’s what brought you to me” He smiled into your hair and reluctantly let go of your fragile frame. He touched your chin and delicately lifted your face up to face him. His eyes were once again drinking you in, committing every single one of your features to his memory. He sighed contentedly.

“Selfishness was not the reason of my visit.” You could see how his eyes softened and you felt your chest squeeze. You brushed his cheek, loving the way how he seemed to relish in your touch. His eyes wandered to your lips: pink, plump and so inviting. “Adoration was. The complete love and devotion that I have felt for you for quite some time now.” You gasped quietly and opened your lips slightly, which didn’t go unnoticed by him.

“Sy—”

“And I guess a little emotional push was what made me finally find my way to you, my beloved.” He half-whispered, leaned in, and pressed his lips to yours, locking you in a sweet, passionate kiss that went on and on, seeming to deepen with every minute you spent in his embrace.

*˚⁺‧͙ ⁺˚*•̩̩͙✩•̩̩͙*˚⁺‧͙⁺˚*

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mayasaurusss · 6 months ago

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hey how are you? could you write jinx x reader? something like jinx taking the reader's virginity. thanks ❤️🫰🏻

My favorite piltie

A/N: Hello! I am okay anon, thanks for asking! Just a bit sad that tomorrow Arcane will end😭.

I want to make it clear that I tried to do this before the next act drops, so I wrote it in two days and some things might not be very good, but I hope you will enojiy it nonetheless!!

Contains: female reader, detailed description of a wound, smut. All characters are 20+ years.

2,8 K/4 pages

When Jinx came knocking at your door tonight, you didn't think you'd end up in this position: her hands gripping at the skin of your chest and with her head buried in it.

The beginning of your night had kicked off with a strange twist when you heard a knock on your fifth floor appartment's window. You gulped down your fear and with a fast beating heart, looked past the window's glass to see a crouching figure with bright pink eyes staring at you. Any other occasion and you would have died on the spot, but you knew who she was. As soon as you opened the window, the figure let herself in, crawling out of the darkness and into the light of your room. "You are so nice letting me in, piltie" she said, and you don't miss the venom laced in the last word she spoke. "Your people aren't really known to be kind" her long fingers mess with the many little trinkets displayed on your shelves, checking their mechanisms and turning their gears.

"What do you want, Jinx?" you can feel a tingling sense of anger inside your skull at her continuous teasings.

You still remember the first time you had seen her, running from enforcers and covering her wounded shoulder.

You knew how ruthless they could be, especially since Miss Kirramman had taken control over the city. In a strange turn of events, you had found her curled up in one of Piltover's abandoned alleys and brought her with you to your home, taking care of her for the next few days until you found your window open and the blue haired criminal nowhere to be seen. During that time, you grew fond of her and were sad when she disappeared. Some weeks had passed and your life continued to flow normally, until she showed up at your door again. You were actually kind of amazed by the fact that she managed to sneak inside the appartment's building without being noticed, but after the third time, when someone called the enforcers on her, she had begun to climb on the building's exterior and knock at your window instead.

"Oh nothing, just wanted to pay a visit to my favorite piltie" she falls back on your bed, sizing you up from head to toe with that smirk of hers that makes your heart beat faster. "That's all?" the mattress dips under your weight as you sit next to her, always keeping your eyes on hers. "Mhmm, maybe" she fishes something from a bag -one you've just noticed- and shakes it: a small glass globe filled with water and fake flakes of snow. The tallest buildings of Piltover reflect the warm lights of your room, making the city of progress look ethereal under the glass. But it wasn't the shiny buildings or the snowflakes that got your attention, but a small name made with metal and gear parts glued to the bottom of the globe. "No way...is this a real Valdiani?!" the shock in your voice makes Jinx's heart flutter, something that she has never experienced before.

She lets out a proud snuff of air from her nose, pushing her chest outwards, "Consider it a gift for my fav- shit!" the sudden swear catches your attention and you look over to see Jinx doubled over. "Jinx! What is going on?!" It's faint, but you can see her hands wrapped tightly around her left side, traces of blood seeping from between her fingers. "Oh shit! Jinx what happened?" she lets out a breathless chuckle, her skin suddenly far paler than normally. "Hah, just some gift the bluebellies have given me" she sucks in a breath when you move her hands, biting a scream away. A deep wound runs along her side, pus forming where her skin had been pulled back from the slash, bleeding red on your covers. You run outside of your room and collect gauze, antiseptic, healing creme and a glass of water.

"Here, bite this" you hand her an old cloth, which she promptly places in between her teeth. "Ready?" she nods, taking a deep breath and closing her eyes. The heat of your hand is the only thing that brings her comfort. She isn't ready though when you pour the liquid over her wound: it feels like billions of needles stinging and burning her flesh, making her want to vomit.

"There there, it's over..." you quickly dry her skin and massage the healing cream on her, finally finishing when you cover her stomach with the gauze. She releases a huff of relief, mindlessly tangling her fingers with yours. When the pain subsides, she realizes how close the two of you are. You on your knees, her panting and sweating, how close you are to her and how fast her heart is beating. It would take a second, just a second for her to reach for your lips and melt into you...

"Uh... I- uh, just-, what happened?" you try to not sound too shy but your voice gives your feelings away. "I..." Jinx's throat bobs and it seems that she'd rather curl herself up like a hedgehog than admitting whatever she did. "You know, the usual. Went on a walk, stormed a shop, stole some things, got the enforcers called on me and..." she gestures towards her side, "...this happened".

Jinx isn't clear with her words, but something about the blush on her skin hints at the fact that there may be something else underneath her facade. You might try at least, right? Reaching for the glass globe, you twirl it in your hands, watching the snowflakes fall on Piltover. "Jinx...did you get chased after stealing this?", she doesn't answer, but her shy silence is enough for you.

"Why? Why do this for me?" she pouts her lips before answering, still held back by some sort of pride. "W-what can I say? Anything for my favorite piltie...".

A heavy silence fills the room, of the kind that is difficult to bear.

You can't believe it. You just can't believe that she'd be so reckless, so stupid! It's difficult to bite your anger back, but you do so, and instead of crying or screaming or scolding her, like Jinx thought you were going to do, you just hug her tightly against your chest. Your grip is so strong against her that she feels like she'll choke on it.

But you are so warm in comparison to her body, so, so warm. For the first time in a while, after Silco's death, after Vi's betrayal, after everything went to shit, she feels like she can breathe. And so she does, inhaling your scent in between, tasting it on her tongue. When you pull back, Jinx's eyelids are heavy with want, her mouth slightly open and her skin red.

It takes a second for her lips to push against yours, for her hands to come up and grab your face and pull you down towards her. The kiss is surprisingly tender for it to be Jinx's: you expected teeth and tongue, not pecks and soft touches. The way she sighs and runs her hands on your chest has you keening for her. "Jinx..." a small line of spit connects your lips, and before you can say anything else, she wipes it off on your bottom lip and sighs, "You know what piltie? I think I deserve something too".

Blinking at her a couple of times, she groans at your naivety and continues while taking your cheeks in her hand. "It has been a hard day for me: running from enforcers, bleeding all the way here... I think I deserve a gift too".

And that's where you are now, naked from the waist up with Jinx on your lap, diligently taking what's hers. The way her tongue teases your nipple is something to die for. It seems all her softness has died with the kiss you shared before, now tugging and biting every part of you. You gasp as she bites your nipple, leaving the indents of her teeth on the delicate skin.

"If I knew I could see you all shy and fidgety-" she tugs your left nipple with her long fingers, smiling cruelly when tearing a gasp from you, "...I would have done this earlier". Her lips leave your right nipple, spit chilling the skin, before she teases both of them with the point of her fingernails, moving and tickling them.

Jinx lets out one of those cruel laughs of hers before diving right back on your nipple, giving it one last kiss and moving towards your stomach. She kisses and strokes every one of your scars, every mole or freckle, every inch of skin, until she comes across the hem of your pants. "N-No wait, Jinx..." you place your hand on her forehead, strands of blue hair falling in between your fingers. She halts immediatley at your discomforted voice, billions of little alarms going off in her head and an attentive yet scared look in her eyes. "What is it?".

"I... I have to tell you something" and with that, her heart beats faster and faster and that obnoxious voice inside her head speaks; 'You've hurt her' and 'Look at what you've done' and 'Did you really think she would genuinely like you?'. But your voice is stronger than theirs. "Hey? Is everything alright? We don't have to do this" in the meantime, your hand cups her cheek, thumb stroking at the pale skin. "Yeah I- I am okay. And I want to" her own fingers close in on you and she takes a moment to breathe. Your own warmth is one of the only things that can make her calm. When the voices blur away and only you and her are left, she opens her eyes again, your reflection sharp inside their pink. "What do you have to tell me?" now it was your time to take a breath, because knowing Jinx, she could have two reactions over your news: making fun of you or absolutely losing her shit. "I... I am a virgin".

She takes a moment to process the information and then lets out a wheezing laugh, making blood rise quickly to your face. "That's it?! I thought I accidentally hurt you or something!". The only thing you can do at this point is pout and look away offended. "Oh come on toots" her hands take a hold of your face before turning you to her, who is smiling softly and with tenderness. "I am just kidding. Don't be so moody. And besides..." she captures your lips, biting and licking and sucking until they darken, leaving a faint trace of blood where her teeth were, "...It's so fucking hot".

The descent to get to her prize is tedious and long, but Jinx can't help but want to savor each one of its steps. Her fingers finally hook on the hem of your pants and pull down, revealing your naked thighs to her; the only thing stopping her from claiming her prize is the fabric of your underwear. "Wait a second..." despite how cute you look to her, Jinx rolls her eyes at yet another one of your attempts to stop her. "What, toots? You don't want me to fuck you?" your eyes widen when she so bluntly says that, without an ounce of embarrassment on her face, but continue. "What?! N-no I want to....it's just that..." you eye Jinx's position on the floor. "The wound might be painful if you crouch... I don't want you to hurt yourself".

"So, what do you want me to do?". You look back between Jinx and the plush, comfortable bed, a lightbulb popping off on your head. "Lie on the bed", you say, making Jinx blink a few times before processing and understanding your intentions. "Ohh, I didn't take you for the kinky type, toots". She crawls over the bed, making sure to look as alluring as possible, then lies down with her head pressed on one of your pillows. "There. Do you like this more?" the way that she's so smug about it, with that stupid smirk of hers, makes you want to choke her to death.

"Shut the fuck up", you follow her, placing yourself on each side of her head, feeling her hands rise on your tighs to curl on the soft fabric she so wishes were to disappear. "Hmhm, alright" she eyes the patch of cloth that has begun to show a wet stain, images of what she is going to do to you already flashing in her mind. But this position prevents her from sliding them off without you having to move away from her, and she'd rather keep you and your pussy here. "You know, as much as I love how cute you look with these..." you only have a brief moment to see a malicious glint in her eyes, before she tears your underwear apart, leaving you naked in front of her "I'd much rather have you bare". "Jinx! I just told you to shut up!" it doesn't help that she doesn't mind you and whistles loudly, making you feel more and more embarrassed. "And I -shut up!-. And-and those were expensive! Do you know how-!" but all your words die in your throat when she, with a strength you didn't know she had, pulls you flat against her mouth.

She licks your clit like a starved woman, like it will be the last meal she'll ever have. She doesn't dive right in your pussy, instead takes her sweet time to torture you, making you wish she'd just fuck you already. "Jinx...please, I-" she opens her eyes to see you above her, naked and panting with pleasure, something she only ever dreamt of seeing.

She can't say no to her favorite piltie. Her cold hands grab your ass, propping you up in a new angle on her face so you can't move, but she can do everything she wants to. She spends the next minutes milking your pleasure out of you, before pushing one finger slowly inside of you. You gasp in pain at first, a small trickle of blood wetting your skin and her fingers, and after a few minutes, feeling need arise from the depths of your guts. Jinx's eyes widen when she first feels you move atop her fingers, riding them messily; and she already has a new idea. "No, none of that toots" with her left hand, she yanks your hips down on her fingers, preventing you from moving further. Her next words feel like ice cold water on naked skin; "I won't make you cum if you do it again" and as if that wasn't bad enough, she emphasizes her point with a trust of her fingers. "You will be a good girl, won't you?".

"Yes, yes, yes I will be a good girl..." her smile is all you see before she disappears underneath your thighs. As soon as you get used to the alien feeling of her fingers inside of you, her pace is unrelenting; fast and hard, torturing your clit with her lips. She takes your hips and places your slit directly onto her tongue, forcing you to grind down on it. When you start to wheeze from her touches, she decides to move onto the next phase of her plan. "Hey baby, get up a sec" you would rather keep on grinding on her tongue, but comply anyway. You get up, putting ditance between your slit and her mouth, but while you do, she directly shoves in her fingers, making your legs almost give out. With her other hand she pushes you until your ass is flat against her lap. "Come on, bounce" you don't let her repeat herself twice, already fucking yourself on her fingers at the best of your abilities. What she's seeing is far better than anything she could have ever dreamt of: her favorite piltie bouncing up and down her fingers, eyes heavy and panting above her. And your movements on her own crotch only make her feel more and more euphoric. Oh, if only she could feel you... When she curls her finger on that spot that has you keening, you finally come undone; finger intertwined, billions of stars exploding beneath your eyelids and electricity coursing through your veins. You collapse on her, skin against skin, puffing and gasping for each breath. Your whines reach Jinx's ears and right now, she wants nothing more than to tear orgasms upon orgasms from you, but she'll have to wait.

You roll over, taking a place near her on the bed, shivering from the intensity of your first time. And when Jinx, with a horrifyingly both sweet and sadistic smile turns to you, excitement clear on her face, your pussy clenches around nothing and your blood turns to ice. "So, wanna go again?"

#arcane x reader #arcane x you #arcane x female reader #jinx arcane x reader #jinx x reader #smut oneshot #plot with smut

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retroaria · 8 months ago

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⊹₊⋆.˚ Confessions ⋆.˚₊ ⊹

summary: the bllk boys and their romantic confessions, some are love, some are not! all of them are pretty cute though, not gonna lie…

BLUE LOCK M.LIST | requests are open! | enjoy 💋

⊹₊⟡⋆ Isagi Yoichi ‹𝟹

isagi makes it a point to confess to you in person. he spends a few days thinking (and overthinking) exactly what words to use. he wants to make sure he can confess his true feelings and also let you know how lucky he would feel if you accepted him.

once he’s ready he’d send you a text or call you, asking you to meet him somewhere quiet, maybe just his house or yours. the two of you meet up and he’s immediately flushed. he’s nervous and excited all at the same time. he’s the kind of guy that would want to have built a strong friendship and bond before confronting his feelings for you, so he’s confident that you guys will be ok no matter what happens.

he’d take your hands in his and look you in the eyes while he confesses. his gaze would be warm and sweet, he’s just glad he could even get the opportunity to express himself to you.

“I’ve really love having you with me. You make me feel better, even when I thought I was fine before, being with you just feels better. The closer we’ve gotten, and the more I’ve seen of you and your world, the more I realize how badly I want to be a part of it.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Bachira Meguru ‹𝟹

as soon as bachira realizes he has feelings for you, he feels immediately ready to tell you. he’ll let the feeling settle for a little and try to tell you in an indirect manner. he’ll swoop in with a surprise kiss on your cheek, giggling as he watches your flustered expression. or maybe he’ll leave little notes around for you, in your bag, in your car, in your pockets, in your books, etc. they’d say silly little things about how adorable you were that day or he’ll briefly write about something that reminded him of you, maybe some mediocre poetry he thought up in his love sick state. you’d catch on pretty easily that it was bachira, and he never intended to keep that a secret.

then after a few days of messing with you, he decided he’d tell you the next time he saw you. when the two of you met up he immediately sucked you into a bone crushing hug, like he was holding on for dear life. he’d pull away, “hey cutie~ guess what…” he’d coo at you.

“i like you! Like, I really like you. Maybe I even love you. actually, yeah, love sounds better. I love you! I wanna take you on a date and kiss your stupid face. I know you feel the same, I wish you could see how red you are right now.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Nagi Seishiro ‹𝟹

Nagi realized he loved you when he began to notice how sad he would get when you leave. being sad is a serious pain for him. he doesn’t like the way it makes his brain and body feel all fried and stressed, he hates not wanting to do anything even more than he already does, yet simultaneously willing to do anything to get you back in his apartment. Nagi would beg you to sleepover every time you hung out at his place, he’d sometimes try to wrestle you into the bed. you were just so kind and warm and calming to him. he felt graced by you and your presence.

his confession would come out of him like a nice long sign of relief. he’s been having this strange internal battle between his love for you and his love for laziness. it’s a hassle to have to confess and then put in the effort to build up a romantic relationship, but in the end he decides it’s even more of a hassle to not tell you how he feels. plus, you’re so worth it.

“It just doesn’t feel right when you’re not with me. It’s like I don’t really know what to do with myself. You make me feel alive. That sounds cringe. I love you, is what im trying to say. I hope that makes sense.”

disclaimer: do not date a guy like nagi in real life you cannot gentle parent this man child lol

⊹₊⟡⋆ Reo Mikage ‹𝟹

Reo’s confession was a long time in the making. he clung to his feelings for as long as he could until it really felt like he was gonna explode if he didn’t tell you. he did that because he wanted to wait for the timing to be perfect. he wanted to find the perfect spot to do it, the perfect words to say, all at the perfect time in both of your lives. but of course, things rarely work out that way.

what actually happened is he blurted it out in the middle of you talking one day. you were telling him about something you were working on, something you loved and were really proud of. he was listening so intently, or at least trying to. his thoughts kept stringing him in a different direction and before he knew it, he dropped the L word on you like a nuclear bomb.

“I-uhh…Ok listen, I’m sorry I promise I was listening to you it’s just…you look so beautiful right now and you sound so cute and excited. It got me all frantic, I didn’t mean to drop that on you so out of nowhere…it’s true though, I do love you. I should’ve told you a long time ago.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Michael Kaiser ‹𝟹

(unless you speak german) kaiser has already confessed to you a million times. “ich liebe dich~” he’d say to you upon every parting, telling you it was simply a term of endearment. if you did happen to know what that meant already, or if you took the time to search it up, he’d be like “yeah, I said that, so what?” this man would propose to you in the middle of times square in broad daylight he’s so confident but that’s a different hc for another time lmaoo.

his confession is charming and flattering. he truly worships the ground you walk on while also believing that he’s the only one who could appreciate you as you deserve. his hands cup your face and his eyes fall warmly on yours. his voice is direct and steady. not a twinge of nervousness can be seen, just pure love and admiration. he speaks to you with a calm and lulling voice, a tenderness he only lets linger when he’s with you.

“Liebe, don’t you see how soft you make me? I’d hate for you to not realize how I feel for you. I want you to be mine, if you’ll have me, that is.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Rin Itoshi ‹𝟹 (i wrote so much for rin wtf)

Rin has walls that he has spent a lot of time and effort building up over the years. they’re forged to keep out anything and everything that may be a distraction from his goals, but if this is the guy you’re going for, i’m sure you’re a persistent little pest. you’d sneak your way into his life, just by being there, texting him, talking about him. soon enough you’d infested his mind as well, suddenly he’d find himself thinking of you when he least expects it.

one day he was on the pitch, just a practice game, but you were in the stands watching him. throughout your friendship you’ve done this quite a few times, so he has no reason to pay much mind to your presence in the middle of the match. today was different though, you were up close, eyes beaming at him in the center field, hands at the side of your head clutched together in a little cheer. he hadn’t done anything yet, the match just started, what were you even cheering for? it was cute, he decided. that’s why it broke his focus long enough for the other team to score. actually, it was adorable. so adorable it tugged the corners of his lips upward slightly, which he quickly moved to cover with his hand. he just threw a match and he was smiling? what were you doing to him?

after some time of thinking you might be employing psychological warfare against him, Rin decided it was time to really sit down and confront his feelings. he’d go a few days, maybe even a week or more without speaking to you. don’t worry, he was thinking about hardly anything but you the entire time.

“Sorry for ghosting you, I just needed to think about some things. It made me a little sad to be away from you too. I hate you a lot less than I hate everyone else, you know? Don’t get cocky about that. Also, don’t leave me ok? I’ll be nicer, yeah sure. Maybe I can walk you home…or something. Here, let’s hold hands.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Sae Itoshi ‹𝟹

he’s way more flustered about it than you might think. he’s not embarrassed or nervous necessarily, he just hasn’t expected to feel this way about anyone. similar to kaiser, sae thinks he’s the only person who could truly love and appreciate you as much as you deserve. this typically stoic and selfish man finds himself smiling in your presence and wanting to give you everything you want and more.

your relationship until this point has been uhh… “transactional” we’ll say. the two of you liked going out and hanging out together, but no feelings attached. a few kisses were shared here and there, he’d take you back to his apartment to cuddle sometimes, but wouldn’t ever let you sleepover. eventually things started to get a little more *intense*. you did start staying over, a lot. so much so that you had a toothbrush on his bathroom sink and clothes in his closet. the first time he ever had the thought of being in love with you was when he realized his sheets always smelled like you now, and he wanted it to stay that way.

the fact that you were enough to turn his head, take over his thoughts, and make him fall in love with you feels like proof beyond the reasonable doubt that you are perfect.

“You can move in, if you want. I wouldn’t mind. We’re basically already dating, so I don’t see the point in denying it anymore. Yeah, I didn’t think it would go this far either. I like knowing you’re here at my place, with me and not with anyone else.”

HONORABLE MENTIONS

⊹₊⟡⋆ Oliver aiku ‹𝟹

“You know I love you, let’s stop pretending. Seriously, you could keep me on a tight leash if you really want. Promise, I’m not going anywhere, babe.”

⊹₊⟡⋆ Kunigami Rensuke ‹𝟹

“I love you, I want you to know that. It’s ok if you don’t feel the same. I want to care for you and keep you safe, you mean so much to me, you don’t even know.”

i love this post so much, the nagi disclaimer i had to put, the strange onion analogy for rin, the flustered reo moment. also just isagi being here, the man that you are, Isagi Yoichi. i had so much fun making this - aria

divider - @enchanthings

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pennyellee · 5 months ago

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𝐀𝐍𝐔𝐁𝐈𝐒 𝐩𝐫𝐞𝐯𝐢𝐞𝐰

title: ANUBIS pairings: yandere mafia namjoon x barmaid f!reader genre: dark romance, smut, porn with plot, 90s word count: 19,7K release date: december - january

beta read by one and only @chaoticpuff17

prompt 1: “You are something I can sin for” prompt 2: An anchor amidst the stormy seas of life — that’s what Namjoon is for you. But it wasn’t always like that. There was a time where you’ve resented Namjoon with every fibre of your being and every word that came out of his plump lips after what he had done to prove his power. Unfortunately, you will never know what life could be if Kim Namjoon was not in it.

warnings: minors dni 18+ | sexual tension, emotional distress, teasing, yandere behaviour, obsessive behaviour, manipulation, reader meets namjoon young but nothing happens until she's 21, forced engagement, kidnapping, graphic violence, death, murder, blood, explicit language, misogyny, mentions of feminism, alcohol usage, mentions of religion and God, church smut, oral (f receiving), fingering, oppa-kink and so on (i'll add some if i'll forget)

author's note: so here we are! this is the story i've been thrilled to push out as it is happening in the universe and almost simultaneously with CHAMPAGNE CONFETTI. Y/N alias Peaches here, is my baby, and I cannot wait to write more for her and Namjoon after champagne confetti side B goes out. I have drafts for another fics that are happening in the same universe as champagne confetti and now anubis but step by step my faries ♥ I hope you will enjoy reading this piece I was keeping for myself for a looong time. The best thing about writing is that I get to build this world of imagination and live in it for months before it gets to you. Sooo I'm very nervous and excited to push Anubis out as a second fic within champagne confetti universe - which i still didn't name coz all the fics just have different titles so let's just call it like that for now. Without further ado, enjoy fairies! ♥ let's go back to 1996. omfg, let's call it thatttt, back to 1996!

disclaimer: this story is purely fictional, it does not depict real-life events or involve any actual members of BTS. This story will contain depictions of violence, blood shed, death, mentions of abuse, smoking, alcohol drinking, illegal activities, old social norms and traditions, which we do not condone. main masterlist 𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

1996

"Did you sleep well?" Namjoon asked, his voice softer now, as if he was trying to breach the walls that had begun to rise between you.

You nursed your coffee in the black ceramic mug while you shrugged, keeping the answer with spice in it for yourself just yet. His brow furrowed, and for a moment, you could see the cracks in his façade when you didn't answer.

"I see... silent treatment," he gulped down, a hint of frustration creeping into his voice. Pouring himself a cup of coffee too, he leaned on the counter right in front of you. You took his appearance in. He got a buzz cut, creamy satin shirt tucked in leather pants. A few of the buttons were undone, giving you a perfect view of his toned chest.

"Is that really how you want to start the day?" he provoked. You set the mug down, the clink of ceramic against marble echoing in the tension-filled kitchen.

"Did you ask yourself the same question when you threatened me?" you shot back, your voice rising slightly as the memories flooded back. The anger surged within you, igniting a fire that had been smoldering since the moment you woke up in his penthouse.

Namjoon's expression shifted, the warmth in his eyes replaced by a flicker of defensiveness.

"Well, you for some reason seemed too adamant that you needed to patrol the streets of Bronx by running away from me. I know you too damn well, Peaches; I know where you were headed."

The words stung, each syllable laced with accusation and an unsettling truth. Your heart raced, the anger bubbling just below the surface.

"You know fucking shit, Namjoon—"

"Oppa," he jumped in, his voice firm, yet tinged with a note of caution.

You inhaled sharply, the familiar term slicing through the tension like a knife. It reminded you of the intimate moments you once shared. "You've lost that honorific the moment you decided to threaten me and kill that man right in front of my eyes!"

Namjoon's jaw clenched, and you could see the conflict brewing beneath his composed exterior.

"You don't understand the kind of world I'm in. We protect ours."

"Protect?" you spat, feeling the heat of betrayal wash over you.

"I'm a person who deserves to make her own choices—" He stepped closer, his eyes narrowing.

"What choices are you making? Running off into the night like it's some kind of adventure? You think that's brave? I refuse to let you get hurt because you're unhappy with my decisions."

"Oh yeah, like something would happen to me—"

"You are my woman, and people know that you are, Peaches!" he declared, his voice rising with intensity, as if the weight of his words was meant to command respect from the universe itself.

Your heart raced at his proclamation, a mix of anger and something softer twisting in your gut.

"The fuck you're talking about, Namjoon?" You snapped, your voice echoing off the sleek kitchen walls. Anger surged within you, fueled by the sheer audacity of his claim.

"Not fucking once did you say that we ought to be official one day—" you shot back, your voice dripping with disbelief.

"You act like I'm some sort of possession, something you can just claim without any conversation or commitment!" Namjoon's expression hardened, a flicker of frustration flashing in his eyes.

"You need to stop pretending like we don't have a future because you're scared of the past," he said, smashing the mug down on the counter. Namjoon's jaw tightened, and the conflict in his eyes was palpable.

"Since we met, not fucking once have you made your intentions strictly clear, Namjoon! The fuck am I doing here then?!" The words burst from your lips, raw and unfiltered, echoing in the tense space between you.

He ran a hand over his face, visibly struggling to keep his composure.

"I thought you knew. I thought you felt it too," he replied, his voice softer now, almost pleading. "I thought it was understood that it was a matter of time."

"Understood?" you scoffed, incredulity seeping into your tone. "You think that just because you've made me a part of your life, I should automatically know my place? That's not how it works!"

"I was waiting till you'll—"

"Age of consent is eighteen in this state, Namjoon, keep that bullshit to yourself." Namjoon's expression darkened at your words, and you could see the frustration simmering beneath the surface.

"So you would rather be wifed and knocked up as soon as we met, am I right?"

𝐜𝐡𝐚𝐩𝐭𝐞𝐫 𝐨𝐧𝐞

©pennyellee. please do not repost

tag list: if you want to be notified once the full story will be up for reading, you can write in the comments and i'll create a taglist!

Don't be a silent reader, let's be friends chummers! ♥

lots of love, p.

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girlsworldillusion · 3 months ago

Text

Scream for me little lamb (FINAL PART)

PART ONE HERE

Ghostface!Aemond x Fem!Reader

Summary: You don't know him, you haven't even seen him before. Yet this cruel killer is in your mind, entangled like a parasite. For just one night you want to get rid of this feeling - to get rid of him. What could possibly go wrong after all?

Rated: Explicit (+18)

Word count: 15k (fuck, that's it, I'm physically incapable of writing something succinct)

Author's Note: This story contains themes that may be disturbing or triggering for some, such as: DETAILED DESCRIPTIONS OF PANIC ATTACKS, BLOOD, MURDER, OBSESSIVE BEHAVIOR, THREATS, AND ROUGH SEX. Your health (mental and physical) should always be your priority, if any of these themes are too heavy for you to handle I beg that you ignore this post.

Please do not mistake this for a love story. The reader clearly suffers from a serious level of emotional instability and the abuser takes advantage of this fragility to threaten and use her. This is NOT healthy and NOT romantic in any way and I obviously do NOT agree with this attitude in real life. This is just a FICTIONAL HISTORY and it is only in this context that something like this can be tolerated. The tags are all there however and if you do not feel comfortable reading something like this, there is no need to leave any derogatory comments. JUST DON'T READ IT.

To those who stay, enjoy reading!

English is not my first language, I apologize for any mistakes you may find.

In the previous chapter:

And then the masked figure takes a casual step into the bathroom, the easy confidence in this simple act foreshadowing his ease in overpowering his victims. You swallow hard, backing away slowly as you lock eyes with the killer’s empty holes. The knowledge that there is no way out of the room is painfully obvious to you. The man takes up the entire space of the exit; the width of his shoulders stretching almost from one side of the doorframe to the other, his long legs slightly apart to fill any gaps.

The only way out of here was if you stepped over him; and that wasn’t going to happen.

----

The hairs on the back of your neck stand on end as your head tilts down discreetly. Submission. It’s instinctive, really. Your body knows what this man is capable of, remembers the brutal, bloody state his victims were found in. You don’t want that fate for yourself.

He hums at that, pleased with your pliant reaction - and you blush at the raw humiliation of feeling so inferior to someone else.

“So good, sweetie.”

He sighs ecstatically, pushing the two of you deep into the bathroom just enough to close the door, the click of the key locking it sounding purposefully loud. You feel the shape of an invisible hand holding your beating heart between its fingers, your breath coming in shallow huffs through your lips. He’s locked you in here, with him.

How did this happen? How did you, probably the only person who was actually taking this whole police alert about a serial killer on the loose seriously, end up here? How the hell is this possible, God?

Your phone vibrates from where it's on the floor and you jump in fright, the screen facing down doesn't allow you to see who's calling when you look at it. But it doesn't matter. You immediately look up at the man, see how he understands what you're going to do before it even happens; his ghostly face tilts toward the ceiling, an almost disappointed sigh sounding from beneath the mask.

"I praised you too soon, right?"

It turns out that if showing their fragile parts to a predator seeking mercy and lowering the head in submission is a natural primal instinct when there's seemingly no escape, then it's also a natural instinct to act immediately when a glimmer of hope and survival appears.

And your phone ringing is a glimmer of hope.

You dive to where it lies with your heart racing, desperate for the opportunity to warn someone of your situation and get help. But your fingers barely graze the object before a large hand grabs a fistful of hair at the back of your head, holding you in place before you can reach it.

On your knees on the bathroom tile, you’re thrashing hysterically in his iron grip, ugly sobs of pain escaping your lips with each rough tug at the roots of your hair.

“No! Let me go, please! HELP!” You scream as loud as you can, hoping it’s enough to alert someone outside, even though the obnoxiously loud music downstairs limits your chances to almost zero. You barely register the heavy thud of the knife hitting the floor as you open your mouth to scream louder, your voice muffled by another heavy hand slamming into your mouth, the leather of his glove squeezing your lips and cheeks until they hurt.

He lifts you to your feet with just his grip on your hair, your scream of agony once again muffled by his gloved fingers. The man doesn't let you go even when he reaches the bathroom sink, where he practically throws you against the counter, your hip bones jarring sharply with the impact. You slip a little in pain, shaking hands gripping his wrist as you claw desperately to make him release your mouth, staring in horror at the shadowy figure behind your body.

Your heartbeat is roaring loudly in your ears as you cease the attack and stare at the dark, empty eyes of the mask in the mirror, his body against yours.

The indigo lighting makes his presence even more sinister, shadowing a tall, frightening silhouette looming over you like a mythological god of death, dressed all in black. Except, of course, for his bizarre mask with sunken, innocuous eyes, like black holes etched in an agonized expression, the mouth dark and open in an eternal silent scream. The material of the mask is so white that it contrasts exaggeratedly against the black background covering his body, even in the violet light of the bathroom. Over his head he wears a wide hood that frames his mask and gathers around the long line of his strong shoulders like an ominous shawl, followed below by a kind of ragged-looking tunic, long sleeves on each arm, a subtle tightening around his waist, deliberately highlighting the defined plane of his abdomen. Below his waist, the tunic continues flowing to his ankles, with an opening running the length of each leg clad in trousers - to allow ease of movement, you presume. He needs agility to stalk students and kill them mercilessly, after all. To finish off the somber look, he wears military boots on his feet, intricate lines of laces running the length of them.

"How about you and I play a little game?" He asks close to your ear, white mask poking the side of your face, empty eyes staring at your reflection in the mirror. You struggle to breathe between the gaps of his fingers on your face, your eyes growing moist as the desperate situation truly sinks in.

"A really fun little game called 'don't scream when I let go of your mouth and in return I won't decorate the floor with your entrails'. How does that sound?" The way he says it, casual and easy, rivals the cruel grip on your hair, or the way his fingers press into the flesh of your cheeks until you squeal in pain.

The smell of blood surrounds you again, the same metallic, damp smell you felt when you were near the dripping knife he had between his fingers, and your senses seem to be heightened by the adrenaline flooding your veins. It takes a few seconds for you to realize that the smell is coming from him this time. From his clothes, you notice, as if the slimy stuff had been splattered across much of the shadowy fabric covering his body. And it was. You know it was.

Who was the victim tonight? Who was stabbed so brutally that their blood splattered like ketchup all over this monster’s clothes?

Would you suffer the same fate?

“I asked you a question, princess. Do you want to play with me or not?” He presses, a hint of impatience in his voice, the already crushing grip on your scalp tightening even more.

You nod as best you can at the restraint of his fingers in your hair and mouth, pretending you actually have some say in this, salty tears sliding down your waterline with the shaky movement.

“Good girl.”

He laughs close to your ear, a low, dark — but happy — tremor. He’s enjoying himself, basking in the satisfaction of your scared, teary expression. He’s insane.

“That’s it, love, isn’t it so much easier this way?” He purrs as he loosens his grip on your mouth, the back of his index finger massaging your cheek as you practically choke on the breath that vibrates too raggedly through your newly freed lips. He towers over you, watches you in the mirror with predatory focus - sees you struggle to keep yourself together, fresh tears dripping from your lower lashes, wetting the leather of the glove on his finger. “Mmm, you look so good like this, it makes me so fucking hard to see your tears fall for me.”

“Oh my God…” you choke, absolutely terrified at the man’s sickening sincerity, your eyes wide and wet, face to face with the singular reason for your nightmares.

“Shh,” he takes a step closer to you, pinning you even tighter against the sink counter and his body, letting you feel the undeniable truth in his earlier statement — the thick tent in his pants digging into your lower back until you whimper out a sharp sound, “calm down, baby. Don’t do anything stupid now.”

You find yourself subtly wilting at the dangerous warning, though more out of sheer horror than subservience.

“A-are you going to kill me?” Your voice cracks at the end, scared and shrill; the sound of someone truly cornered — a little mouse caught in a cruel glue trap, just awaiting its inevitable end.

“Now, that wouldn't be fun, would it?” he pretends to ponder, his gloved fingertip drumming over your jaw now, down to your cheek, and you’re shaking so hard you think you might be shaking his body along with yours. “Oh no, I could never kill you. Hurt you? Yeah, maybe. But killing my little girl? That's a big nope to me.”

If he thought that would bring you any comfort, then he was sorely mistaken.

He grabs your face before you can properly react to his frightening words, his large, strong hand barely needing to exert much effort to do so, eclipsing your delicate features with his long fingers, the endless darkness of the glove contrasting with your skin. He squeezes your cheeks together until your lips purse into a fishy pout, forces your jaw up so you meet the blank stare of his mask in the mirror - and all you can do is cringe under his dangerous aura.

“Look at that, aren’t you the cutest little thing?”

You definitely don’t like the tone he uses, the easygoing, smug way he holds himself above you; as if he knows there’s absolutely nothing you can do to free yourself from his grasp, completely at his mercy. Chest thrusting into you, muscular thighs encasing your hips, hips pressed against your ass; keeping you in place. You try to claw at his wrist again, just to confirm the horrifying fact that no, he’s not going anywhere.

The grip on your cheeks loosens as he slides his hand to your throat, gloved fingers curling to rest over the hysterically pulsing vessels on either side, completely encircling the slender column of your neck with elongated digits like spider legs. He doesn’t apply any real pressure, but he doesn’t need to. He doesn’t need to. As he holds your gaze in the reflection with those cold, dark circles of his ghostly mask, the threat of his vast capacity for violence hangs as heavily as he does over your body.

He could rip you apart, right here and now. He could sink his sharp teeth into your neck like a dog would a chew toy, shaking your stuffed body between his jaws until only foam and patches remain.

The paralyzing fear is an increasingly real sensation in your chest, the cold curtain of numbness lifting on your skin and you swallow hard, your throat working under his fingers. Your heart pounds violently, so hard you can feel it in your ears, in your skull. Your eyes flutter in the mirror and your breath is just a broken whistle between your lips. He's pushing you straight into what will be a second episode in the same night, an unprecedented feat in your life - as fucked up as it has been so far.

"W-wait, please I-" You gasp, pulling at his grip messily, already feeling the spiral of panic wrapping around your thoughts like a vise, the claustrophobic noose that is the feeling of total inability to control yourself tightening around your throat.

"Cut that shit, little girl." Your tormentor breathes close to your ear, firm and authoritative, almost sullen as he stares into your terrified eyes in the mirror, his fingers on your throat squeezing slightly - just enough to make you feel it. "You're staying here with me, understand? It was cute the first time, but I don't want to hear about that shit now. I have much more interesting things to do with you than watch that pretty little head go somewhere I can't reach it. Yeah, I'm a selfish guy like that."

He finishes with a dry laugh and you don't know what's worse; his complete disrespect in describing your very real and very traumatic panic attack as something 'cute' or his incorrect assumption that you had a choice in this - that you could simply stop it from happening.

The grip on your throat is tighter now, your breathing becoming severely labored. His hand wraps around your throat and presses hard enough to make you struggle to breathe. You buck and push, running on pure instinct even though your efforts are restrained by his strength, the blood on his black robes spreading across your body like an artist’s brushstrokes in movement.

The notion that this man killed someone before coming to you is there once more, even more prominent now, pounding in your head like blows from a hammer.

“Relax, damn it, or I’ll make you.” He continues his unreasonable demand, squeezing his grip to press you against his chest until you feel every heated inch of him against your body, especially the disturbing way the thick line of his cock inevitably pushes and presses into your lower back with each sharp breath.

You want to scream at him and tell him that what he’s doing is the complete opposite of encouraging you to relax. But anxiety courses through your veins and your eyes close, spilling salty tears. You see grotesque shadows and demons you never thought you would see behind the darkness of your eyelids. It suffocates you, terrifies you, makes you tremble. You can’t move, you can’t escape, you can’t even open your eyes; you can only feel. Your heart is about to explode. You can’t hear anything. Your head hurts and your mind starts to shut down. That’s it, you’re falling again.

And then you feel your body shaking uncontrollably, something crawling under your skin like a lazy parasite. It’s not bad and that’s the first warning sign. Your temporarily inert mind, shut down for God knows how long, restarts with a slow trickle, your breathing becoming a little less hyperventilating and more...warm? However, you can’t force yourself to open your eyes yet, you can’t hear anything around you, you can’t even deduce what’s happening beyond the dark barrier of your closed eyelids. You feel strangely calmer, but filled to the brim with confused apprehension.

You shiver as the strange sensation comes on stronger, sticky molasses coursing through your veins, warming your belly to bring your mind back to reality.

Brought back....

When your eyes open, lethargic and sleepy, tears still blur your hazy vision until you can stare once more at the killer's ghostly mask.

“Welcome back, princess…” The tall man speaks and even hidden under the mask you know he’s smiling. His upper body is hunched over, wrapping your body in a sort of unwanted intimate cocoon. One of his arms is around your torso, keeping both of your arms firmly attached to your sides as if you were a Barbie doll, his other arm stretched down, beyond the visible limits of the mirror. You try to cast your eyes down to see where his hand is, a bad feeling in your chest, but your vision is fuzzy, swimming in dizziness and inconstancy. The threat of a second episode has drained the little strength that was left in your body.

You might even feel compelled to show gratitude for having escaped the oppressive spiral of a new crisis before it reached critical levels. Except something doesn’t feel right.

“W-what?” You ask in a thin voice, your head spinning with tiredness, your body kept upright only by the sink counter and the pressure the man exerts on your back. Feels wrong. You feel like you’re going to throw up at any moment. Your body is begging you to lie down and take a nap for an entire year. It’s a different kind of hysteria, you realize, like you’ve escaped one panic attack only to fall into another completely different one.

Heavy breaths rush from your mouth and your tongue feels sticky and dry as you try to swallow, squinting back into the mirror, trying to piece together the fragmented pieces of information in front of you to make sense of what’s happening.

He’s looking at you too. Even hidden beneath that mask, you feel his gaze burning into your reflection, drinking in the drunken confusion etched on your face, the fear — the shiver of unwanted pleasure that rips through your body like an invisible knife.

What’s happening?

You want to scream.

As you gaze up at him from beneath damp lashes, the burning sensation in your body seems to creep upon itself, gradually merging with the nerves in your belly as something warm and syrupy — needy — pulses deep in your core.

“That’s it, baby. See how much relaxed you are now?” He purrs with lazy irony, savoring each syllable on his tongue like an addictive candy. “Of course you did, the baby just needed something different to focus that little head of her on.”

There’s a gentle but rhythmic swaying of the muscles along his arm, you notice with your eyes locked on the mirror, a disturbingly familiar movement — and a shiver of wet pleasure licks up your spine as you squint, a very instinctive, primal part of your brain finally breaking through the hazy fog to scream that it knows exactly where his hand is.

Your awareness of the world around you returns like a punch to the gut, painful and suffocating, as you feel the leather of his glove between your legs.

"N-no! No, please, I don't want to-" You stammer, tired and scared beyond belief, struggling to escape the man, but his grip around you is like a heavy chain, his arm still keeping yours locked tightly at your sides.

This man has somehow managed to rescue you from a traumatic encounter with your own demons, only to plunge you into a different kind of terror - one even more agonizing.

Your sobbed protests mean nothing in the face of the killer's sick desires, as he languidly slides two of his fingers in a V around your clit, up and down. A shiver runs through you, your thighs instinctively clenching around his hand, a reaction that in turn elicits an amused chuckle from the man.

You shake and beg louder as he continues to rub your pussy, his hand writhing inside the tiny shorts you wear under your costume skirt, ignoring your breathy sobs and whimpers as if you were just a cute, whiny puppy. You shiver, your inner walls clenching around nothing with each lick of his fingers around your clit, reacting against your will to his teasing touches.

A haze of fear and pleasure takes over your mind as you shake your head, struggling to breathe through your nose to keep from passing out. It all feels too much and yet not enough, your hands twitching nonstop where they’re held, your body shaking from head to toe. Your blood runs thick as you stare at him in the mirror, begging in a way. Trying to say anything, since your voice doesn’t even seem to work with the overwhelming wave of feelings coursing through you. Your lips just part, nothing but a wordless plea.

“Oh, poor girl, don’t struggle so much…just relax, I’ll take such good care of you. Don’t worry your pretty little head about anything but staying there and being soft and pretty for me. Let me think of everything else.” He sings condescendingly, the elongated tip of the ghostly mask’s chin appearing in your line of vision as he rests his jaw on your shoulder, the material of the hood brushing against the side of your flushed face.

His scent is enveloping you like a chokehold now; rich, clotted blood, running red and still warm on his clothing — which is now permanently stained on your costume as well, to your horror. But beneath all that disturbing scent of wet iron, there are also notes of crackling, mossy sandalwood and something fresh, citrusy like lemons or bergamots.

If it weren’t for the blood trying so hard to overwhelm everything else, his scent would be pleasant, your clouded mind realizes, seductive even.

The sight before you is breathtaking, to say the least - and not in a pleasant way.

A pathetic, broken little girl is crying, her cheeks red and streaked with tears, her eyes drunk and her brows furrowed in anguish. On her body she wears a foolish Sailor Mars costume that barely covers her body, a stupid thing she didn't even want to wear in the first place, the fabric of the red skirt draped in front of her thighs swaying suggestively, right where the hand of the man behind her remains hidden. The man in question, a vicious killer highly wanted by the police, covers her almost completely with his tall frame and black robes - a stark contrast to the girl's almost childish outfit. The white mask on his face rests on her shoulder, his long arm caging her small body close to his, touching every part he can reach as he squeezes and caresses her as if he would die without it. It's almost romantic, in theory, but horrifying and frightening when you know what's really happening.

You shake your head, squeezing your eyes shut, refusing to look down and confirm what your nerves and body already know all too well is happening. Fear grips your throat so tightly that you shake like a leaf, tears streaming from your eyes as you feel his first finger delve inside you.

It should hurt. The rough material of the glove in direct contact with such an entirely sensitive part of your body should be uncomfortable, at the very least. But it isn’t. There’s something aiding your endeavor, your hindbrain adds as his finger sinks in all the way to the first knuckle with just a little pressure from his wrist. There’s something sticky and thick there along with his finger, messing with your folds with humiliating sounds — spit, probably.

“Please…stop—” you cry, squeezing your eyes shut so tightly you swear constellations explode in the darkness of your eyelids.

“You know,” he begins, ignoring your foolish plea, impatient as he pushes his finger the rest of the way into your trembling, clenching walls until you squeak out a sob, body tensing like a bow beneath his. “There’s a look on people’s faces that I meet. A hysterical, helpless look when they realize that this is the end for them. No matter how much they’ve resisted and fought, they all get that look when the time comes. It’s not exactly a look of begging for mercy. No, they’re usually past that point at this moment.” His chuckle is nothing short of disturbing near your ear, the arm around your waist rising so that he can grab a thick fistful of your hair between his fingers and squeeze until you cry out loudly at the sharp pain and open your eyes, obeying his silent demand to face him once more through the mirror.

“No, it’s not a plea for mercy, sweetie. It’s just a anguished conformity, you know? A part of them even wants to hold out longer, out of instinct I guess, but deep down they know it’s useless. They just know it’s over for them. And that’s when that look appears.”

Your breath hitches visibly as he slides a second finger alongside the first.

“It’s the same look you have now. That look of pure agony and submission on your face, all because you just know you can’t escape me...mmm,” He’s closer than ever, rubbing the mask on the side of your face, and all you can think is that he’s right. As much as your body tells you to run, you know there’s no way you can outrun him, he’s unfortunately more capable than you in every way that matters right now.

He presses himself even closer to your body, his voice slurred in your ear.

“You make me so fucking horny, baby.”

He’s not slow, much less gentle when he moves his fingers inside you. He fucks you with them seriously from the first few seconds, curling them each time he sinks back into your heat, your walls clenching around him, warring to adjust to the unexpected assault. Your cries of pain are interrupted by small involuntary moans and gasps every time he presses too deep inside you, finding a spot that makes you dizzy, held only by his painful grip on your hair. You bite your lip, struggling to keep the noises inside.

He makes a grunting sound, tongue clicking disapprovingly beneath his mask.

“None of that, princess. Let me hear those beautiful sounds. They’re there because of me, I cultivated them...they’re all mine.” Your head falls back on his shoulder as he suddenly moves his hand down your clavicle, long fingers pushing aside the fluffy purple lace of your costume to grip one of your breasts tightly. “You’re all mine.” Even over the fabric of your clothes, his grip on your breast is possessive, and you wish your arms would fight back when he starts dragging his palm across your nipple, prickling it until it becomes a sensitive little peak. But all you can do is lift your hands to rest them on the counter, your head still thrown back against his chest.

“Fuck,” he groans, his thumb now rubbing against the nub of your nipple with small flicks that send a jolt of pleasure straight between your legs. “I knew you’d be perfect. So pathetic to me, baby. You feel so good…”

You squeeze your eyes shut, a muffled sob escaping your lips as he pushes your body forward, making you arch into the counter, his larger body pressed against your back, his hands still glued to their respective places. He curls his fingers into your pussy, a small moan leaving you, and begins to pound against your back. He keeps you bent over as he thrusts his clothed cock between your ass cheeks, each rough thrust pushing another inch of your skirt up your hips.

“Spread your legs for me,” he pants next to your ear. When you tense and don’t comply immediately, the hand on your breast squeezes so hard it actually hurts. “Are you going to make me repeat myself, princess? Every second you make me wait, I get more impatient. Are you sure you want to see me impatient?”

You quickly part your legs, the action causing his fingers to dig deeper between your swollen walls with each hard thrust, wet sounds sounding too loud in the cramped bathroom. His hips move against your back in rough motions, grinding up and down, causing heat to spread throughout your body until your head is spinning, broken sounds leaving your lips. The gummy walls of your pussy contract around his fingers and he growls as he ravages your body like it belongs to him.

You feel good and horrible.

Blood on fire, nerves on fire, you breathe as a way to steady yourself in this moment of maddening agony. You are uncomfortable in every way possible in the given situation, and oh how it fills the void in your soul with something...alive.

Here, at the mercy of this killer's cruel hands, you feel alive for the first time in what feels like forever. It's horrible and unwelcome and scary as hell, but it's also absolutely electrifying.

How fucked up is your mind anyway?

The man continues to grind into your ass with every heated inch of his cock, the movement of his fingers in your pussy quickening, the heel of his gloved hand rubbing relentlessly against your clit in this position. The hand on your breast doesn't stop teasing your nipple, poking and pinching. With every noise he pulls from you, his movement becomes faster, hips matching the rhythm of his fingers in your intimacy. As if you were egging him on. You whimper, squeezing him so hard you could tell you were trying to keep him out, but the action only serves to heighten the sickening pleasure coiling in your stomach.

“Shit,” he hisses, thrusting his fingers in and out, in and out, watching in the mirror as your face contorts with pleasure. “So good. Feeling so good to me. You squeeze my fingers so hard, princess. Fuck. That’s my good fucking girl, yeah?”

Admittedly someone with a blatant emotional inability to accept any kind of compliment — especially one from a fucking serial killer who’s currently keeping you impaled on his fingers while grinding his cock into your ass and making you cry like he’s getting paid to — you slump your shoulders and pant, staring wide-eyed at the man, your rapid breathing fogging the glass of the mirror. His words sink into your bones, stoking the rising heat in your abdomen, and your pussy clenches around his fingers again. He lets out a short laugh, rubbing his masked face against your burning cheek.

“Do you like that, you filthy slut? Do you like when I tell you how good you feel? Hell, you’re fucking squeezing me. Your pretty little pussy wants me so bad.”

Your eyelashes flutter and your breathing becomes more ragged; fear, pleasure, and pain combine into one intense experience, and you realize with horror that you’re approaching orgasm. It’s humiliating, but it doesn’t stop you from tentatively moving your own hips against his palm, seeking more friction on your little clit as heated tears roll down your cheeks.

‘No, no, no, please.’ You whimper to yourself, eyes nearly rolling into the back of the head as you arch your ass into his hips in involuntary response to the inescapable, frenzied sensation coursing through your body.

“The poor baby’s gonna cum.” He chuckles, though his own voice is breathy, wild. “Yeah, gonna make a fucking mess of that pussy and get it all nice and wet for my cock, right?” He growls wickedly between his chuckles, pushing your body forward with each hard drag of his cock into your ass, grinding the leather of his glove into your clit as he repeatedly hits the same sensitive spot in your cunt.

You can’t take it anymore, your clenched jaw slackening as you begin to give in to the pleasure. The overwhelming wave of your coming orgasm is visible on the horizon and you can’t do anything but stare at it head on, waiting helplessly to be absolutely swept away by it.

"Ah ah, fuck!" You cry out between parted lips, viciously squeezing the edge of the counter between your fingers, losing control over your body, unable to stop yourself from moaning lewdly in time with the forced climax.

With one last flick of his fingers and a pinch to your nipple, you have no choice but to stare blankly into the mirror as you shatter into a thousand pathetic pieces with a strangled scream. The trembling of your inner thighs is quickly followed by your toes curling inside the red boots of the costume as you cum hard around the masked killer's fingers.

Your pussy quivers violently as he shakes with laughter against your body, with a dose of sincere joy that you would find almost childish if it weren't for the obscene way he is still thrusting his cock into your back. He continues to finger fuck you throughout your orgasm, leaving you gasping and writhing in shocks of pleasure, your eyes wide and wet in the mirror.

“Please stop, that’s enough-” You gasp, your legs locking from the overstimulation as he continues to work your clit mercilessly. “P-please, I’ll do anything, please just stop! Stop now -"

You're interrupted as a whirlwind of dizzying events ensues; one moment he's fingering your pussy to overstimulation with no intention of stopping - the next he's pulling his fingers from your quivering walls with such force that it elicits a shocked gasp from you. Your body is suddenly spun around and your back slams painfully into the mirror with an impact strong enough to crack the glass into several sharp ridges on your back, small shards getting stuck in the back of your costume. You have half a second to scream at the dangerous sensation before he's straightening you up on the counter, his body wedging between your parted legs before you can even react and close them.

You're still trying to figure out what happened; how he managed to just lift you into the air and slam you into the counter like you weighed nothing. How he was so quick to do it and, most importantly, what motivated him to do it. But all is forgotten when he grabs your neck between his fingers, roughly pulling your face closer to his until you're face to face with that ghostly mask.

But there's no fake face in the world that can hide the anger bubbling through the man's pores. A feeling so obvious, intense and abrupt that it makes you shiver and try to pull away reflexively, but his grip won't let you go anywhere. His already undeniably imposing figure straightens to its full height, intimidating and dangerous, a ominous and dark aura that encircles your body like a spool of doom.

"Stop? Who the fuck do you think you are to tell me when to stop? Do you know who decides when we stop, you bitch? Me! That fucking cunt belongs to me. It's mine as fuck and you're not going to tell me when I should or shouldn't touch it. Because your whole body, your mind, your fucking soul, is mine. Mine."

He curses and bites acidly right in front of your face and fear hits you all at once, absolutely terrifying: the way he’s panting under his mask and hissing with barely contained rage, the way your name leaves his lips in a heated growl. A direct threat from a mindless animal. It’s all clear — so, so clear.

He’s dangerous and unstable and horrible and you can’t escape him.

Your hands start to tug at his wrist, pushing him away, already sensing what’s coming - and it really comes. Ignoring your futile attempt to push him away, the hand on your throat tightens. His fingers press, cutting off the air, squeezing and hurting your flesh. Your windpipe is tightly caged between his palm and thumb and he shows no hesitation as he presses hard, suffocating you with a cruel grip.

Now, unlike his outburst of anger a few seconds ago, with your life literally being measured in his hands, he becomes the cold and indifferent embodiment of his alias, watching your fight as if it were nothing new.

It isn't.

The world around you begins to spin as you feel dizzy, your head swimming and spinning as your heart beats uselessly against the finger over your carotid artery, numb lips and throat working ever more slowly beneath his hand. Your struggle is over, as meaningless as it was to begin with.

You surrender to this ghost, dropping his hands from his wrist and letting your body go limp beneath him.

The monster senses your surrender, humming contently at your soft submission, even though you are barely conscious enough to notice. The grip on your throat loosens and you instinctively tilt your head away from his grasp, gasping for breath in desperate noises, coughing and spitting as tears spill over in response to the throbbing sting in the circumference of your throat. You feel a large hand stroke your hair as you struggle to catch your breath; and the almost patronizing touch, as horrible and unwelcome as it is, grounds you for a moment, helping you gradually transform your rapid, labored breathing into deep sighs.

"Don't forget what I'm going to say now and maybe we won't have to go through this again, princess:" He whisper at you with serious voice. "You're mine. For better or worse. You're mine."

The hand in your hair moves forward, tangling in the strands, massaging your skull, and it's probably just the hazy haze of suffocation that keeps you from noticing his next move, but it's the feel of a gentle, wet kiss on the bruised line his fingers have left on your skin that makes you conscious once more. He holds your head firmly by the hair, preventing you from moving to get a better look, but it's immediately clear that he's pushed the mask up enough to expose his lips, which continue to slide along the curve of your neck and jaw.

Your ears are throbbing with the pounding of your heart as you stare over the killer’s shoulder at the wall across the bathroom with wide eyes – the man blowing puffs of pure wet heat across your skin to leave goosebumps in his wake. His mouth is undesirably soft and delicate on your bruised skin (pleasant really, you’d say, if you weren’t, well…in the situation you’re in), his other hand coming up so he can rub his thumb across your lips, slowly parting them until he pokes your teeth with the tip of his glove.

“Open that pretty mouth and show me you know it, sweet little slut.” He whispers the degradation with a noticeably lessened dose of hatred than before – low and breathy, his mouth on your cheek, his thumb pulling away to run his index and middle fingers across your parted lips.

His breath bathes your skin in wet heat, the refreshing scent of some mint gum he chewed recently still there. (He was chewing a damn piece of gum while he murdered someone, your mind completes in full hysterics. Brutally piercing some poor student's insides with the sharp blade of that knife while he carelessly rolls the soft gum between his teeth. He's sick, sick, sick.)

"Suck them clean." He orders, cutting through the murky waters of your wandering mind as pushes two fingers onto the flat of your tongue, forcing you to accept the invasion.

It's on autopilot that you register the strong, smoky taste of leather mixed with the familiar taste of your arousal, which still glistens with the fresh wetness of your orgasm on the surface of his glove. You squeeze your eyes shut, gagging more at the sheer depravity of the act than the intrusion itself.

"That's it, princess. So beautiful like this, taking my fingers like a good girl..." he pulls his face away to look at yours, smiling at your fearful gaze; you close the lips around his fingers, sucking and licking slowly at the soft leather of the glove as you clean your own taste from the material as if you meant it - even as the tears keep falling. All you can see in the purple lighting of the bathroom is the lower half of his face and even that is partial, the white mask resting on his nose shadowing what little skin is visible. Despite that, it is evident how his smile stretches, wide and mischievous - pearly teeth slightly crooked at the front, canines sharp and shiny, like those of a cunning predator that has caught up with its prey.

His grip on your hair tightens to keep you still, his fingers coming to life as he thrusts slowly, out and in and out and in, into the cozy warmth of your mouth. You choke around him, saliva pooling between teeth and flesh as he pushes your tongue down, fucking your mouth like it’s a pussy — each slow stroke pushing deeper, until you feel the tips of both his fingers sliding down your throat.

“God, I want to feel so bad that pretty little mouth wrapped around my cock,” he sighs, his gaze locked on yours, fascinated by your gasps and sobs, his smile slowly dying so he can bite his lip as he hums dreamily, “you’re going to be so good to me, I just know it.”

Your wet gaze is half-lidded, mouth slack and full, only giving in to the forced intrusion when you feel him gather the strands of your hair into a messy ponytail in his other hand to pull and push your head along his now-still fingers - the explicit and purposeful parallel of the depraved act with another very unique one does not go unnoticed.

He's guiding the rhythm of your head as if he is dictating how you suck his cock.

It is humiliating; a byproduct of male dominance that is offensive and filthy in its most brutal form. You hate every damn second of this silent abuse. But your pussy seems to have a mind of its own, because with each forced thrust against the saliva-soaked leather of the glove, it clenches a little tighter around nothing, demanding attention.

You whimper at the betrayal of your own body, mouth stuffed and saliva beginning to drip down your lips and chin.

When he withdraws his fingers from between your lips, it is with calculated slowness, prolonging the elasticity of a thick thread of saliva that remains joining the digits in the glove to your loose tongue. He grunts a satisfied sound at the debauched sight, lowering his face to stretch out his own tongue and break the sticky bond after a few seconds of contemplation, licking the saliva accumulated on your chin upwards with a greedy drag of the wet and hot muscle, lighting flames of embarrassment on your cheeks.

You shudder at the grip on your hair as he pulls your head back at the same time as roughly sinks his teeth into the soft plush of your lower lip. Your little hands immediately spread themselves on his chest to try to push him away, but this and your cry of pain only serve to draw an amused laugh from him. It is obviously of his own free will that he mercifully gives in to your plea after a few seconds of torture. He sucks the sensitive flesh into his lips, licking and soothing the bite with a gentle, wet suction.

Mistakenly, your body decides to relax against his hands, welcoming the gentle but cunning care that is his tongue caressing the small, bloody cut he left on your lip. He eases your pain, even if it is because of him that you feel it in the first place.

It is natural for the contact to evolve, after all, his tongue is right there; sliding across your lower lip, his lips brushing yours provocatively. It is really predictable what would happen next, but it still pulls a dazed gasp from your throat.

His fingers hold your head firmly by the ponytail and his mouth covers yours completely, like a wet, warm cocoon that you cannot escape. The groan that sounds from his throat at the feel of your lips on his is one of deep satisfaction, a breathy appreciation that rumbled as he curls his body over yours, locks your legs around his waist, and moves his mouth over yours.

It’s nothing like any kiss you’ve ever experienced in the past. You’re not even sure if it could even be called a kiss.

There are perhaps no words for it other than hunger and need as he barely touches his mouth to yours before his lips are forcing yours apart so the wet muscle of his tongue can slide between your teeth. He’s rough and intense, kissing you like he’s kicking your soul out of your body. It’s all a clash of teeth and tongue that leaves you with your hands trembling in the collar of his robe, your eyes half-lidded and your cheeks flushed as you struggle not to choke on the wild rhythm of the pseudo-kiss. Every inch of the contact feels equally forced and premeditated, an unaltered conclusion that has you subtly pushing your hips forward against him as the sheer surprise and discomfort of the act subsides into something deeper. Darker. You can barely breathe in the tiny, moist inches that open between your lips, making small choking sounds in his mouth - stunned, outraged, humiliated, bursting into flames-

The pointed chin of the mask is digging painfully into your skin at this angle and all you can do is try to tilt your head to the side to avoid hurting yourself, since the man doesn't seem to have the slightest interest in your comfort. But not even this is enough to contain the chilling flame that grows between your legs with each hot breath that leaves the killer's nostrils on your cheek, his greedy tongue licking your teeth and his lips drinking your saliva as if it were the most delicious wine.

When he breaks the kiss it's like breathing after a long time underwater, your other senses dulled and directed only at him like a funnel.

"What in the bloody hell was that? Getting a guy all heated and bothered with a kiss," He grins between a breathy laugh, barely separating his lips from yours, rubbing the tips of your noses together in a comical imitation of affection as you both breathe heavily, "you really are something special, aren't you little girl?"

As you gasp for air, feeling your cheeks darken several shades at the unwanted compliment, the man caresses your face in a disturbingly affectionate manner, as if he's rewarding you for letting him kiss your mouth like that, even though it's clear he's not done yet. Pulling away from you just a few inches, you twitch and yelp as he roughly grabs you by the hips to pull you to the edge of the counter, making you subconsciously lean your back. A second later, he rips the tiny shorts you're wearing down, skimming over the curve of your ass and thighs, grabbing the flesh there greedily as he simply rips the thing off your body.

It takes a few seconds for the realization that there are no more barriers in place to keep the killer at bay to sink in — not that it ever did stop him before anyway. But knowing that beneath your red pleated skirt there’s no covering to offer even a modicum of safety (even if misguided) is nerve-racking in a way that makes your blood roar through your veins, and, illogically, not in a bad way.

“Do you feel that?” he murmurs, wet, breathless lips brushing the hollow of your throat as he bends down slightly to unbuckle his belt. The clink of metal is nearly drowned out by the pounding of your heart and the loud music downstairs. “That’s what you do to me. Every time I see you, every time you look up with those big, shy eyes — I want you to look at me, I need that look to be mine. And you don’t understand, do you? You drive me so fucking crazy, girl.” You barely put up a fight when he takes a thigh in each hand and wraps them around his waist before taking his cock in his palm and stroking it a little. It takes everything in you not to look down, teeth sinking into the soft, swollen surface of your lower lip as you hear the wet squelch that the contact between his gloved fingers and his cock makes with each lewd tug.

There should be more resistance in you, but all that’s left at this point is exhaustion and the painful slap of reality that comes with accepting the fact that you’re not rejecting this as much as you used to. There’s a war going on between your body and your mind. Where, of course, you know how sick this man is and how dangerous it would be to give in, there’s also the certainty that he brings out something undesirable in you — that intoxicating, dark sensation of feeling good about being so violently desired by someone. It’s not something you’re proud of, of course. But there’s no denying the way your body wants to succumb to it, to give itself completely to this cruel man you don’t even know but who is obviously obsessed with you. It’s something you can’t begin to comprehend, much less accept, but it comes rushing back to you anyway.

Your poor therapist might have a thing or two to say about such urges.

He rubs the bulbous crown of his cock against your sensitive, shamefully touch-starved clit and you shiver as the heat and dew of his pre-cum spreads through you at the contact. A warm, newborn droplet trickles over your bud of nerves, bathing it in tingling as he steadily nudges the tip along your wet folds. His thumb joins in the teasing, swirling with a few hard rubs followed by a softer touch, too deliberate to be anything but expert, pushing against the hood and pulling it back, exposing your nub to him even more. From his expose lips he makes a deep sound as he feels you getting wetter, more slippery. He circles your clit relentlessly and it’s him who moans louder between the two of you, even though it’s you who’s eyes are rolling back in pleasure.

He recovers quickly, though. Hearing and seeing how loud the sounds of your wetness ring out in the small bathroom, he breathes a laugh so mocking and icy that you feel yourself immediately wither against the mirror behind you, your face burning with the blush of a new wave of humiliation. The killer ignores you, of course, using one hand to lift your thigh up and to the side, doing the same with the other, adjusting both of your legs so that your feet rest almost flat along the edge of the counter - exposing you as if your modesty and dignity mattered nothing at all.

And it doesn't. Not to him.

"So wet." He teases, annoyingly making a point of giving voice to what you've both already realized. His hand slides over the curve of your thigh possessively, pushing the draped fabric of your red skirt with it so that it bunches at your hips. He groans as watches his length freely slide through the slickness between your legs, giving a shallow pump forward. The gloved thumb presses with just the right amount of force, rubbing in a circular motion that makes your toes curl inside the boots and your throat tighten at the noise you suppress. That is, until the soft, wet tip catches against your opening and he pushes inside without further ado.

You gasp loudly at the sharp pressure, reflexively slapping the hands against his chest to push him away, but soon both his arms are around your body, preventing you from going any further, pinning you against him with his strong hands and his cock.

“Aaaah!” You cry out, and he immediately brushes his lips against your ear, leaving a sharp bite on the sensitive flesh, enjoying the struggle evident on your face. Your pussy hasn’t been used properly in a long time, and this man certainly doesn’t lack in the size department.

“Shhhh,” he hums, sounding too pleased for it to even remotely be interpreted as an attempt at comfort. “You can handle it, baby,” he whispers in your ear, one hand relaxing its iron grip on your body to cup your cheek, “I know you can.”

It’s not like he’s giving you any options other than to handle it. And yet, over the sting of the stretch and the ache of being taken without denying it, your insides burn with dark desire. It’s like being fully satisfied with something you didn’t even know you needed.

“That’s it?” he asks as you throw your head back in the mirror, eyes closed and teeth digging into your bottom lip. “Does it feel good to you like this? Baby likes a little pain, yeah?”

You blush, unable to think about it too much without feeling like you could go straight to the hospice.

Thankfully, he doesn’t press you for an answer. Instead, firmly breaching your tremble hole, he thrusts and thrusts and gasps heated and wetly into your ear, pressing deeper until he’s halfway in. And then he stops. The fingers of one hand close loosely on the bruised skin of your throat and you freeze, fearing for a moment that he’s going to choke you once more — this time while impaling you on his thick cock. But as the seconds stretch by without such a thing happening, you begin to notice something else. Those fingers; cruel, bloody fingers, responsible for the deaths of many people, are unsteady on your flesh.

He’s trembling.

The elongated digits are gripping your flesh with no real pressure, just a nice, soft collar around your throat, but the way they’re trembling is noticeable even through the barrier of the glove.

You open your eyes to a slit, knowing you can’t see him properly with the way his mouth remains pressed against your ear, breathing heavily and heatedly. And there’s no logical explanation as to why such an action catches you so off guard. But feeling this killer, this horrible, terrifying man who is obviously incapable of a basic level of respect for human life, gasp and tremble at being inside you, makes you gasp in response. Your insides clench involuntarily and more moisture coats the heavy shaft in your pussy, making it easier for him to pass through.

Then, slowly, he moves his other palm up to squeeze your breast over the fabric of your costume before he begins to pump the rest of his length inside you.

“Mmm…that’s it,” he murmurs, “f-fuck, you feel so good, so good.”

Again, you say nothing, burying your embarrassing moans and your tears as best you can — both from pleasure and humiliation. The man is so disturbingly warm curled up against you, his body broad and tall and so firm, dark clothing heavy but soft over his defined stomach that flexes against you with each thrust - the mask poking your flesh every now and then as his breath hitches in your ear. You want to cry out in fear as much as you want to scream in pleasure.

It’s a bitter kind of betrayal the way your body seems to want to decide the game for you; your quivering pussy giving in, against all logic and reason, to accept the forced intrusion, allowing the rest of his cock to pass inside your silky walls. You lose the battle almost immediately after that, gasping at the feel of every inch of his thick member firmly seated inside you, breathless at what he’s daring to do to you. Worse than if he had broken into the bathroom to murder you, you’d say. Because here, he’s not just violently attacking you and taking your right to life, without you being able to fight back. Here he’s making you submit to him; making you want to surrender to the overwhelming sensations that he brutally rips from your body - like a priest exorcising a poor possessed soul. He humiliated you in the worst possible way and he knows it.

And you find yourself less and less concerned about it.

You tilt your head to the side - and now there is no more internal restraint to prevent your moans.

“Please…aaah…”

“That’s it, princess,” he chuckles, as if he senses you’re giving in.

The time he stays still inside you doesn’t last long, just the few seconds long enough for you to feel the heat and enlargement of his cock, the thick veins pulsing as he bounces between your walls. It’s as if the pain has pierced you beyond anything else, pierced you like a sharp bolt of lightning that has fried your nerves until it’s left behind nothing but a sense of…overwhelming fullness. You’re completely boneless, trapped between his strong body and the mirror, your hands clenched loosely in the dark fabric of his robe. It’s a sensory experience that quickly becomes too much, but not enough.

When he pulls his hips back you experience a confused moment of panic, frustrated as you feel him pull away from you to leave your pussy achingly empty. There’s no time to question the insanity of your thoughts though.

His fingers are still shaking as he pulls away from you, releasing your throat to tangle them deep into the roots of your hair as a scream is forced like a punch from your lungs when, in a single strong thrust, he is fully sheathed within your quivering insides once more.

Between the iron grip on your hair and his hand gripping your breast like a vise, all you can do is grip his robe tighter as he ravages you. His teeth are where your neck meets your shoulder with a sharp bite, pulling away to thrust inside you in another violent thrust, your hole stretched and more vulnerable than ever. Your frantic brain is making you all too aware of every little sensation racking your body. The way his thick cock opens you, how each thrust makes your smaller body tremble, leaving you breathless as you dig your nails into the soft fabric of his robe to try and hold on through the punishing rhythm of his hips. When this night is over, and assuming you’re still alive, you know you’ll be bruised and sore everywhere, from your hips and ass to your breasts and throat. In your mind and in your soul. Right now, you don’t know if you’ll ever recover from this. If you’d ever want to.

"S-stop..." You don't know why the words are coming out of your mouth; not only would they be useless to the man, but they also carry no real force behind them. You don't even know if you really want him to stop. It feels more like an instinctive reaction than what your brain deems to be the right thing to do. "I - I'm going to scream."

He laughs, recognizing your empty threat for what it is, but your stomach still twists when he grips your hair to pull your face towards his.

"Oh, you promise? Please do it, little girl."

Out of spite, you close your mouth, but that only seems to incite him. With an amused chuckle and one last pinch to your nipple, he releases your breast to grab both of your thighs. His hands are large on your flesh while his fingers bruise the soft skin even more.

"Such a stubborn little thing. We can't have any of that, can we, sweetie?"

His hands curl under your ass and, after a greedy squeeze, he’s lifting you up, not letting his cock slip out of your pussy for even half a moment before he slams you against the wall. Your spine arches and your bones rattle from the nothing short of violent impact, but he doesn’t care, writhing and pulsing inside you, undeniably stimulated by your pain - and oh god, this definitely shouldn’t feel as fucking good as it does.

It barely takes a second before he’s holding you steady and still by your thighs before he starts ramming his wet cock in and out of you again, like a machine, so hard that each thrust of his hips makes your back hit the wall.

In this position you’re forced to wrap your arms behind his neck for safety, feeling his hands close on the inner curve below your knee to spread your legs even wider, his body so intimately pressed against yours that it’s almost unsettling. Especially after so long without any human contact like this. You feel, to say the least, overwhelmed by such a sudden onslaught of intimacy.

You tense when he thrusts in a particularly dirty way, grinning like hell when you hiccup with a moan. He repeats the movement out of pure tease, his mask askew but turned toward you, the mocking line of his lips right next to yours.

“Mine,” he whispers, “My princess, my little pet, my cute little toy.”

His thrusts become not only hard but fast as well, and you can hear each time his body hits yours with a wet slap, each withdrawal slick and sticky.

“Please, w-why are you doing this? Why me?” It’s all you can manage to ask, your head growing increasingly confused, your pussy growing wetter.

He slows his movements to a blessedly slower grind, humming dramatically as he pretends to ponder your question.

“Why you?”

In an abrupt movement that you wouldn't have expected in a million years, he lets go of one of your thighs and abruptly rips the mask off his face, with such ease that you initially don't understand what it means. But then, with finality and violence, the weight of reality falls upon you.

He took off the mask.

He let you see his face.

The face of a murderer wanted by the police.

You were already dead. Yes, if such a fate was uncertain before, it certainly isn't anymore.

The shock of the revelation is so absolute that it takes a few seconds for you to actually focus on his face. But slowly, each individual feature seems to stick to your mush brain.

First you are greeted with that shock of long platinum blonde hair, tied in a loose bun, a few strands stuck to the sweaty skin of his forehead and the sides of his face.

The hair alone would be enough for you to easily recognize him.

But then your gaze falls to those eyes.

Eye, actually. A single, functional one, a stormy blue — enigmatic and dark as the turbulent waters of the farthest reaches of the ocean. The other, or where the other should be, is occupied by some kind of ocular prosthesis of a blue hue that could not be less like his good eye — a vivid, electric blue, like a rare, brilliant sapphire stone.

It is the first time you have seen him like this, so exposed. Always hidden by a pair of sunglasses or, failing that, a surgical eye patch. The pale skin of the man’s face would be flawless, were it not for the long, jagged scar that cuts across his cheekbone to above the line of his damaged eye.

The purple hues of the bathroom highlight all his sharp angles and an elegant appearance that is characteristic of the aristocratic genes of someone so well born.

Yes, you know this man.

Aemond Targaryen.

A college guy. Normal, as far as you can tell. Or as normal as someone privileged and born with a silver spoon in their mouth could be. Yes, he was introverted, arrogant even with his silent and mysterious attitude, as if everyone was beneath him. The few times he was pushed to enter a conversation or any other social interaction (most often by his own brother) his comments were imbued with a polite acidity that is totally unique to someone with class, or with discreet but effective jabs that carried a humor considered, at least, questionable.

Aemond constantly balanced on the fine line between cool elegance and petulant irreverence, which generated controversial opinions about him among the students. To you, he was intriguing. Someone you quietly admired, offering polite greetings and a sincere smile when your paths crossed.

Yes, you knew him - as did the entire student body knows him. The Targaryens were obscenely wealthy, widely recognized for carrying an exorbitant legacy not only of family polemics, but also of successful generations, all in the field of technology and communication.

And yes, Aemond Targaryen was someone seriously conflicted, with his taciturn and enigmatic aura.

But a serial killer? That would be impossible.

And yet he was here, smelling of leather and sandalwood - as well as blood and death, wet crimson stains on his dark robes, forcing you to the most terrifying and controversial act of your entire life.

The dawning horror of the notion that the killer on the loose could be someone you know, someone who was present in your daily life, who attended the same classes as you and yet, who you never even dreamed of suspecting, seems to want to suffocate you momentarily.

“I see you around campus. You know, some wise ones tend to avoid me whenever possible, and then there are those pathetic rats who try to get close out of some specific interest in what my clown family can offer. But you? You’re always kind. Even with your mysterious and solitary attitude, you’re still so stupidly kind to me. It’s ridiculous, princess, but also so cute.” He’s pleased by the utter shock on your face, grinning evilly as he shoots his hand out and wraps both forearms around the inside of your knees, his cock thrusting deeper into your pussy, leaning in menacingly until his teeth are grazing your ear.

“You’re all I can think about, baby. You’ve invaded my mind, my body, my life. You’ve fucking ruined me.” He speaks directly into your ear, a harsh whisper that makes you gasp and shiver despite the crushing weight of the discovery still fresh in your mind.

“It’s only fair that I ruin you too, right?”

You glow at the intimacy of his words, incandescent with the blush spreading across your cheeks, your throat, your collarbone.

“You...oh, fuck...” Your accusatory words to him die on your tongue as one particular thrust hits a spot inside you that has you curling the toes in response. Little gasps escape your lips as he hits the same spot over and over, your eyes filled with revulsion and desire beginning to soften with an inevitable flutter of the lashes.

“That’s right, just take it, baby.” He sighs with a smile, kissing your jaw as you tilt your head back. His voice is like molasses; soft but rough around the edges — sweet but dark with the huskiness of his lust. It’s getting harder for you to control this feeling now. You feel your legs tighten, instinctively trying to wrap yourself around his waist tighter. A hand rising from his broad shoulder to tangle in the platinum strands of hair at the nape of his neck, eliciting an approving grunt from the man. He watches you with awe and a hooded gaze as you give in to that feeling of helplessness once again.

“You feel so warm and wet, dripping all over that pretty pussy, drooling on my cock like that…you’ve been just as desperate as I have, umm? So lonely…you’ll never be lonely again, princess,” he promises hotly, groping his way up your thighs until he grabs your ass, thrusting slowly, deeply, brushing against your cervix each time.

“I’m going to fuck your ass like that someday.” He says casually with a sly smile as his fingertips slide along the crack of your ass, thrusting his cock into your pussy harder to show you what he means, making your breath shallow and your eyes widen. “I think I’ll do that next time indeed. Fill every tight little hole in your body. Mark every inch of your skin as mine.”

“Oh, God -” You feel tears forming in your eyes and streaming down your cheeks as you squeeze them shut, shaking as he teases you with wicked words, his hands coming up to grip either side of your waist. “Stop, please.”

“Oh no, baby, I’m not stopping. Not now and not ever. I’m going to claim that body in every damn way I can. With my cock, my fingers, my tongue.” You moan and pull away from him, your cheeks red and wet, shaking your head in a mumbled protest that’s too weak to be taken seriously. There’s more pleasure on your face than fear. He chuckles. “Do you like that? Do you like the idea of my tongue in that sweet pussy?”

Before you can think to deny it, his mouth crashes down on yours, rough and brutal, hungry. There’s blood on your tongue, you notice, the cut reopened in his greed, the taste ferrous and acrid in your mouth as his tongue slides inside — his, maybe, or yours, or both, you don’t know.

As quickly as it begins, it ends. Aemond pulls back enough to brush his lips against yours, sharing quick, wet breaths.

“Oh yes, you do. You love knowing that I want to lick that pussy until you come, once, twice, three times — until you squeal and beg me to stop. But I won’t. I’ll make you come as many times as I want, as many times as your body can take. And even then, even if you pass out from exhaustion, I’ll fuck you. Like a beautiful little sex doll.”

Amidst the sensual humiliation of his wanton words, you feel your back scraping against the wall; up and down, over and over. The grip of your fingers in his hair tightens and he growls in his throat, palming your ass to move it with more fervor. He holds his own body still, using only the strength of his arms hooked in the crook of your knees and his hands on your waist to move you up and down his cock.

His face, though it still manages to hold that cold, wicked smirk, is smudged with a soft blush across his cheeks and the bridge of the nose, the rest of his pale skin glistens slightly with sweat, and his good eye is dark with desire — the pupil so wide it almost completely overpowers the blue of his iris. And he’s beautiful like that; even with the prosthetic eye and the frightening scar. Beautiful and ethereal, completely belying his sick personality and unforgivable sins.

Through parted lips he gasps with effort and it takes a moment, but when he pushes you up again, your face completely implodes into flames as you realize he’s using you to masturbate. He’s doing exactly what he said he would, using you like a sex doll, a flashlight clenched around his cock.

His thrusting becomes faster and rougher as he grips your waist tighter between his broad palms, dragging your pussy down his cock with short strokes. Your own breaths shorten, becoming ragged sobs each time the fabric of his robe rubs against your sensitive clit. When he’s basically grinding your pussy against him, undulating your hips in a hurried back and forth, he leans down to press the forehead to yours. His heavy, cold gaze stays locked on yours through each drag.

“That’s it. That’s it. Look at me. You’re so tight, so good. Keep looking at me. Good girl.” He punctuates each word with breathless slowness. Each guided movement of your hips is intentionally placed — rubbing your walls against his thick cock while simultaneously stimulating your clit against the mound of fabric of his tunic in a way he knows will send you over the edge.

Despite the order, your eyes grow heavy and fluttery, beginning to roll back as the muscles in your thighs and abdomen tense in preparation for the inevitable climax. That scary and wonderful cliff that taunts you in a messy way, approaching faster than you can understand.

A hard slap on your cheek brings you back.

“What did I just say, princess?” he growls, his voice rough with the effort of holding back his own desires. And your cheek stings where he’s hit you, glowing an even deeper shade of red, but you barely give it half a second’s attention — not when he’s looking at you like this; all breathless, sweaty lines and smoldering gaze.

“Keep your fucking eyes on me.” He releases your jaw with a warning jerk, sliding his hand down through your wet mess to find your swollen clit and circle the bud with his thumb, his other hand still tight around your waist. His body grinds into yours, flattening you against his lean muscles and the wall, slamming his hips into yours without pause.

You take a deep, shaky breath.

Your boots cross behind his back, skirt swinging at his waist with each thrust. And yet you do your best to hold Aemond’s obsessive gaze – unable to even name the intensity of the emotion swirling within you. The muscles in your thighs now tremble visibly, clenching tightly around his body in your impending release.

“Aemond – I need, oh, I can't…” You whisper, barely realizing what comes out of your mouth, a broken moan escaping along with the jumbled words, your entire body twitching under the expert assault of his thumb on your clit and his quick, relentless thrusts. You were close. So close. Balancing precariously right on the edge. And he knew it too.

“That’s it, say my fucking name as you cum for me. Come on, do it now little girl.”

It happens quickly after that, relentlessly, your eyes trying to close without your permission, but you are obedient and keep them half-lidded as you stare at Aemond, a choked cry finally escaping your throat.

“Aemond!”

With a determined growl, sweat dripping down his temples, he thrusts into you harder and harder until the tight coil snaps. Shockwaves of electric pleasure overwhelm you, forcing all the air from your lungs in a messy gasp. You shake as you come, clenching the fist against your attacker’s chest, nails digging into the roots of his silver hair, trying to ignore the stinging taste of shame as you find purchase in his body.

“Look at me. Look at me, baby.” He pushes his forehead against yours, sending you a sly, proud smile as your eyes flutter and water with the effort of keeping them open through the climax. His pace quickens with the excitement of seeing your drunken gaze and flushed face.

His own release washes over him like the purest rush of insanity; brows furrowed as if he’s in pain, lips parted in a hoarse groan that raises every little hair on your body. His warm cum fills you, bubbling at the tight rims of the ring of muscle where his cock stretches you. He stays buried inside as his balls empty, his head finally tilting back and breaking intense eye contact as his lips release another long, satisfied groan.

When it’s all over, he slowly leans down to touch your foreheads once more, and you feel an overwhelming, incoherent wave of satisfaction when notice the muscles in his arms and fingers trembling where they touch your skin.

“You’re mine,” he murmurs between labored breaths. “All mine.”

He babbles possessively, rolling his hips into you to prolong the intimacy, even as you feel him softening discreetly within your walls.

“I’ll burn the world for you, I’ll do anything to keep your eyes on me like this. I’ll kill as many as it takes to have you by my side.” His voice, husky and haunting, makes you shiver with horror — with heat.

You don’t think he needs your involvement in the story to fulfill the last part of his dark promise. Not with the previous list of confirmed murders or the blood that stains his clothes tonight. That stains your costume now too. But his words still send a swarm of butterflies dancing in your stomach and, not for the first time, you find yourself questioning the integrity of your mental health.

He’s smiling at your flushed, uncomfortable features, swollen lips brushing against yours playfully as he catches the breath to say something else that will surely upset you deeply. Before he can, however, his broad body freezes against yours, whatever he was about to say abruptly dying on his tongue.

Like a tense and intriguing suspense, the two of you are slowly bathed in the garish red and blue lights that filter through the small bathroom window, overshadowing the soft purple lighting from before.

The police.

Just as the realization sets in, the sound of sirens is heard; loud and distinctive. And it is then, and only then, that you notice that there are no more sounds of music coming from downstairs.

When had it stopped?

Relief is the first thing you feel. Hope and security flicker in your chest until a new wave of tears blurs your vision. But the feeling quickly withers before another realization. The police, along with your college friends, were minutes away from finding out where and who you had been all this time. They would find Aemond, it was true. They would finally arrest the killer known as Ghostface. But they would also find you. You, abused, raped and humiliated.

God, could they deduce just by looking at you that, at some point during this violation, you had started to want this?

Your jaw is gripped by his firm fingers, making your wide, wet eyes focus on the man in front of you. He looks at you with such intensity, serious and analytical, and in that moment you are sure that he knows exactly what you are thinking.

“I know where every single one of your friends lives, what every single one of them does during the day — every damn minute of their activities is recorded for me,” he whispers slowly, sinking each word into your overworked brain to make sure you understand. “The same goes for your family members. I know where they live, who they are, and what they do. Dare to open your pretty little mouth to anyone about me and you’ll get one of their heads every time you open your dorm room door in the morning. I’ll even do the favor of gift wrapping it for you, baby.”

Your stomach lurches with sudden nausea, all the color draining from your face at the threat you know he wouldn’t hesitate to carry out if need be.

“I truly hope you won’t betray my trust, love. Like I said before, I don’t want to kill you.” He smooths his knuckles down your tear-stained cheek, softening his tone to something softer and gentler — yet equally terrifying. “But I’ll do it to someone you care about without a second thought. So don’t test me.”

He doesn’t wait for a response before he seals his lips on yours. Just a light, wet touch, more an intimate exchange of heated breaths than a kiss. With an approving grunt when you sigh and surrender to his touch, he pulls away.

Your shaky, weak legs give way as he leaves your body, and you slide down the wall in a confused, weeping heap until you’re sitting on the tiled bathroom floor.

Hovering above you, Aemond tucks his penis into the pants and fastens his belt, straightening the robes with a perfectly neutral expression and calm manner, as if at this very moment the cops aren’t searching the frat house for him. Long fingers casually grip the mask lying on the counter, giving you one last intense, appraising look, licking his lips slyly before covering his face.

That ghost mask is back then, cold and frightening, pulling the hood up over his head before bending down and holding the bloody kitchen knife in the palm of his hand. Black boots click on the tile floor as he turns back to you and heads for the door, casting a glance over his shoulder as he places hand on the doorknob.

“This won’t be the last time, princess. I’ll come back for you.” His voice is dark and muffled by the mask, sounding more like a threat to your life than a lover’s promise, especially now that he’s back in his ghostly, cruel persona. “Until then, try not to miss me too much, and of course, be on your best behavior.”

He leaves as disturbingly as he came, with a dark swish of his cloak and an amused chuckle, closing the door with a teasing gentleness — as if he’s trying not to scare you. You might even buy his act, if it weren't for all the psychological terror he's inflicted on you so far.

And then you find yourself alone in the bathroom once again, with nothing but your own shame and accusatory thoughts.

And that's exactly how the cops find you a few minutes later. Sitting on the tile floor, pale as death, your Sailor Mars costume stained with blood and throat marked from the cruel grip of your attacker's fingers. Your cheek still stings from the slap he gave you.

You think you can hide the finger marks on your thighs by deliberately tucking the legs in, taking the opportunity to keep the messy puddle of cum out of sight of the lawmen. But one of them still wraps his jacket around you in a gesture of solidarity as he leads you out, reciting kind words that, despite their intention, do nothing to actually calm you.

“Oh, thank God!”

You stagger back at the sudden hug Mako gives you as you exit the house, crossing the area marked off by yellow police tape. The officer next to you clucks his tongue in disapproval, but steps aside to offer the two of you some privacy.

“Someone called the police when they found the bodies on the next street. It all happened so fast. The party was going on and then everything turned into absolute chaos and I couldn’t find you anywhere!” She babbles quickly as pulls away from the hug, looking you up and down with her puffy, red eyes, her hands shaking where they are — clenched tightly on the arms of the police jacket you’re wearing, as if she’s afraid you’ll disappear if she lets go. “W-when they said that you could be upstairs with him…I-I thought…fuck…I really thought—”

“I know. But I’m here now. And I’m fine.” You cut her off, wiping away your own tears as you try to give her a very unconvincing smile. Predictably, she doesn’t buy your lie, but doesn’t press it either.

“They couldn’t catch him, pumpkin…” she says slowly after a moment of silence, her face contorted in pain for you. “By the time they got upstairs, he’d already escaped. I'm sorry."

You want to tell her that you know that, you were there when he fled before could be caught. Before you can, however, the officer from before is back - this time accompanied by another, a tall, tired-looking man with a gray beard. The sheriff, you assume.

"If you don't mind, we'd like to ask you a few questions, miss." The older man grunts, looking like he wants to be literally anywhere else but here.

"She does, actually. Can't you see how she looks?!" Mako is quick to respond, leaning forward to position herself in front of you like a protective barrier. The officers look at her like she's a little girl throwing a tantrum, nothing but tired indifference on their faces.

"It's okay, Mako. I got it." You try to calm the situation, placing a hand on her shoulder to gently guide her to the side. "I'd rather do it now, actually. I just want to put this all behind me as soon as possible."

It's impossible to put this behind, but you don't say that part.

Mako holds your gaze for a few seconds, keeping such a watchful, worried glint in every expression on your face that, for a minute, you fear she might know exactly everything that happened just by that look. When she sighs and steps aside in reluctant surrender, you almost sigh along with her.

"Okay. But I won't go far, I'll be waiting for you right there."

You mumble an 'mkay' and she reluctantly walks away, not before casting a sharp glance at the two officers standing in the same position near you - who promptly ignore her silent attempt at a threat. When she finally walks away, you sigh, staring at the badge on the older man's chest for a few seconds as you prepare to craft a narrative of the facts that doesn't reveal anything about the killer's identity.

"Alright. What would you like to know, Sheriff Myers?"

Fortunately, the police in your town have never been the most diligent or perceptive, and while they may ask a few important questions here and there, they generally remain naturally ignorant to some confusing gaps in your version of events. You are careful to avoid saying anything about the sexual assault you suffered, opting to tell them only about the physical violence that they have inevitably noticed by now; the marks on your neck, wrists and the red slap on your cheek.

They accept your half-truths so easily that you would be offended if that wasn't exactly the goal. In the end, all that matters to them is the answer to one question:

"Did you get a look at his face? Skin color, hair, eyes... anything that might help us identify this fucker once and for all?"

And in that moment you think of Mako, her cheerful smile and irreverent attitude. You think of your parents, so safe and oblivious in your hometown. You think of the faces of every your family member, friend and colleague who could suffer an agonizing death at the hands of the killer if you dared to answer the wrong way.

"N-no, sir. I'm sorry, but no, I didn't see anything. He was completely covered the whole time, with gloves and a mask." You huddle deeper into the thick jacket over your shoulders, your arms wrapped around yourself.

The sheriff takes a deep breath, clearly disappointed at once again running in circles, but he doesn't press you on it. And after a few other less important questions, they both say goodbye with a standard guarantee of protection that you don't trust for a second.

They've barely moved away from you when your phone vibrates in the pocket with the warning of a new notification. After glancing over your shoulder in alarm to see if anyone was watching, you feel the heart race before you even reach for it, fingers already shaking with nervous anticipation, knowing exactly who the notification is from. With a shaky click of your thumb on the now mostly cracked and destroyed screen, the thing lights up for you:

Notification Center

2:23am - Unknown number

"Well done, little girl. You made me proud (and a little horny, I must admit) with all those pathetic little lies to the authorities. Keep being a good girl and everyone you care about will be safe. Scout's word.

We'll meet again sooner than you think.

A.T."

#house of the dragon #aemond targaryen #ewan mitchell #hotd #hotd season 2 #aemond one eye #aemond targaryen x reader #aemond targaryen smut #prince aemond #aemond fanfiction #aemond smut #scream #ghostface x reader #ghostface x you #ghostface #content warning #aemond x reader #aemond x fem!reader

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whimsiwitchy · 8 months ago

Text

Controversially Young Girlfriend (part six)

Hugh Jackman x popstar!reader

series masterlist & main masterlist

summary: y/n is a globally beloved pop star. She is known for her talent and dedication towards her craft. Recently, she has also been known for her preference for older men. After a breakup with her former older boyfriend, she had a run in with the hottest dilf right now, Hugh Jackman. Y/n tried to warn him, but what can she say, she has an effect on hot, older men.

warnings: age gap (23/55), cursing, y/n used, implied shorter reader, afab reader, she/her pronouns, sexual themes.

warnings will change as the story progresses! all descriptions of real people in this story are FAKE. I do not know these people and this is purely fiction. Please let me know if I missed anything!! <3

authors note: y'all this part absolutely drained me. Idk what it was but I felt so stuck when writing this. I got it to a point where I can start part seven fresh, so fingers crossed whatever happened here doesn't happen again. I hope you all still enjoy it lol <33

part six: because I love you

Waking up in Hugh’s arms was heaven. He was still asleep when you first opened your eyes, his soft snores tickling your ear. You were grateful that he didn’t have those loud old man snores like some of your past lovers had, though you were sure you wouldn’t mind if he did. Gently lifting the arm that was wrapped around your waist, you carefully rolled over to face him. As you studied his resting face, you felt overcome with a deep sentiment of gratitude. He was just as handsome asleep as he was awake. The face that almost always carried a smile was at peace, lips slightly ajar. You adored his face, the deep lines showing a life of joy and laughter. Each nook and cranny aging him beautifully over the years. It made you sad in a way. You wished you could have experienced life with him, wanting nothing more than to have the ‘right’ life with him. A life where your relationship with Hugh made sense and was accepted- but you would gladly take whatever time you could get with him.

You placed your hand on his cheek, sliding your fingers delicately over the course hairs that covered his jaw. Your chest felt warm. The feelings you had for the man who slept so deeply before you had grown stronger than you’d anticipated, but Hugh made it so easy to fall for him. And you had fallen for him, you knew that now. If one thing for certain came out of this time you’d spent with Hugh, it was that you were unbelievably in love with him. You had always found yourself falling too fast for the wrong people but you had good faith that for once it would be right. For once, you wouldn’t get hurt. You trusted him to protect your heart and to do right by you. You knew he would.

As much as you wanted to stay and count every wrinkle that laid upon his face, you had to pee really bad. You gave him a soft kiss on the tip of his nose and wiggled slowly out of his grip. You gave him one last look over before heading down the hall to the bathroom. As you sat there, memories of the night before danced around your mind. The way he kissed you, touched you. He made you feel like you were worth something. It was a feeling you weren’t used to, always feeling used by other men and deep down you know that all you were to them was just some young girl to fuck. You never actually meant anything to them. Hugh was different. Being with him felt right. You couldn’t find any other words to describe the feeling. He hadn’t brought you here to have sex, for once it was you who had made that decision. He bought you flowers and a cake to congratulate you on an achievement that no one else cared to celebrate with you. He cared for you in some capacity and it made you feel horrible, because even with all this confirmation, you still had doubts.

You’ve been fighting a secret battle since the moment he kissed you, the moment everything between you changed. Putting what you were feeling into words felt impossible. What you did know though, is that you were terrified that you wouldn’t be enough for him. Scared that he would snap out of whatever daze he was in and miss the life he had with his wife and kids, the life that didn’t involve you. The life that made sense.

When you walk back to the bedroom you find Hugh sitting up with his back against the headboard, scrolling through his phone. His glasses were perched on the lower bridge of his nose, threatening to fall off any moment. His eyes peaked over the frames as he turned to look at you. “Morning baby. I was just about to text you, thought you left.” He sets his phone down on the bedside table as he speaks. “Mhm, just had to pee.” You walk over to the bed and climb up, straddling Hugh’s lap. “Why didn’t you use this one?” He jerks his head to the bathroom that’s attached to the room and you shrug. “I don’t know. The vibes of the thirst trap bathroom just feel different.” You joke. “You’re never gonna let me live that down, huh?” He asks, smirking slightly. You shake your head. “Absolutely not.” You affirm and it makes Hugh chuckle. “I was wondering if you had any plans for your last day in the big apple?” His hands rest on your exposed thighs and you become all too aware that you’re still butt ass naked under his t-shirt. “Uhh, not really. I was actually gonna ask if I could hang out with you today…” Your voice is shy. “I was really hoping you’d say that. I might have planned a few things for us.” Hugh smiles and you could feel excitement flood your body. “May I have insight on said plans kind sir?” You put on a posh voice that Hugh mimics. “I’m afraid not my lady, for each destination today is to be undisclosed until further notice.” You drop the bit but not without letting out a deep belly laugh at Hugh’s impressively good accent change. “Can I at least have a little hint so I know what to wear?” He thinks for a moment. “I’m giving you the proper New York tourist day, so wear something comfy.” He pauses. “Maybe wear something incognito. It might be harder to hide than it was the other day.” You hum in acknowledgment. “Do you think I could borrow some underwear or something? I’m feeling a little exposed.” Hugh laughs.

Your fingers picked at the basketball shorts he let you borrow, tying the strings over and over again as Hugh made breakfast. Small conversation filled the large space and the domesticality of the situation made you flustered. “I’m kinda nervy about the tour. Are you gonna come support me on opening night?” He’s whisking the eggs in a small bowl with a fork and it was oddly attractive. “As long as my schedule allows it, I'll be there. I'd be at every show if I could be.” He looks up and sets the bowl down. “I’d do a lot of things for you, probably anything.” He adds before he turns around to start one of the gas stove burners. It ticks a few times before it catches. “That’s a lot of power to hold and you definitely messed up by telling me that.” You hold your hands up, each finger touching, as you wiggle them in an evil manner. Hugh looks back at you from where he’s moving the eggs around in the pan and smiles. “Don’t get too excited. I said probably anything.” You drop your hands and shrug. “That’s a lot more than I'm used to.” He turns back to the eggs. “Has anyone ever treated you the way you deserve?” The question takes you aback. “I’m not trying to be mean…After hearing some of the things you say and seeing how Pedr-..how he treated you, I’m not seeing anything good. I guess what I'm trying to say is that I'm confused on how a girl like you has never had anyone treat you right.” He plates the eggs and oils the pan to drop the turkey bacon as if he didn’t drop such a big observation onto you.

“I uh-...I’m not really sure what to say…I mean I guess I haven’t really had a guy care about me all too much.” He turns to you, staying close to the stove. “I’m sorry if that made you uncomfortable. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You shrug. “I mean you’re not wrong. Everyone always seems to give up on me before anything serious happens…but hey that’s the price of being famous and having my taste in men I guess.” He flips the bacon. “I don’t know how I feel being your taste in men then. They aren’t really setting a good reputation.” He jokes but it stings a little. “Eh. I think you’re doing a lot better than any of them ever did. You’re sweet and kind…and unbelievably sexy.” You tried to steer the conversation away from its original content. It works, Hugh laughs. “You should go take a picture in the mirror again and post it. Your fans would love it.” He takes the bacon off of the pan and sets the pieces on a paper towel lined plate. “I didn’t post that for the fans babe. I posted that for you.” Your jaw drops and you draw a dramatic gasp. “I knew it was a thirst trap. Y’know next time you can just send it to me instead of posting it on instagram. I’d love a few more to add to my collection.”

“Your collection?” He cocks an eyebrow up and you ignore his question. “Do you need my help with anything? I feel kinda useless just sitting here.” You ask as Hugh pulls out a container of strawberries. “It’s okay baby, I got it.” You hum, fingers going back to the strings on your shorts. Hugh washes a handful of berries and dries them one by one. “You’re good at changing the conversation.” He mumbles and lets out a small huff of a laugh. “I don’t know what you’re talking about.” You look at him with an innocent face. He’s silent for a moment, the only sound being the soft knocks of the knife hitting the cutting board. You watched as each slice of the strawberry fell over as Hugh worked. His hands stop for a moment and you look up at him, catching his eyes. “I just want you to know that I’m here for you and that I truly care for you.” His eyes focus back onto the cutting board. “I know that.” You mumble. “Then let that be a reminder. I want to hear the things you’ve been through. I want to know everything about you so I can be the best version of myself for you.” You didn’t know what to say, so instead you hopped out of the chair and hugged him.

–

After breakfast and after you followed Hugh around like a lost puppy while he got ready for the day, he drove you back to your hotel so you could do the same. You were frantically walking back and forth as you got ready, packing your suitcase as you went along. Hugh was sprawled out on the bed, scrolling through his phone. You picked out a pair of baggy black denim cargo pants to wear but you couldn’t decide between the classic ‘i love new york’ t-shirt you bought your first day here or a maroon turtleneck. “Which one should I wear? I’m leaning towards the new york one but I feel like that’s too touristy you know?” You start speaking as you walk out of the bathroom and hold up both shirts. “If I wear the turtleneck then I can probably get away with not wearing a jacket and I can also wear the converse I have that are in the same color.” You stand at a mirror that is in the hallway, putting each shirt over your chest, comparing them. When Hugh doesn’t answer, you turn to see him staring at you. “Hugh did you hear anything I just said?” He’s sat up on the bed now, no longer in the starfish position he was once in. “Wear the new york one baby. You won’t be a tourist forever. There’s only a matter of time before the city becomes familiar.” He explains. “Mm. Good point. Thank you babe.” You throw the turtleneck on your open suitcase and just as you're about to throw the simple graphic tee over your head, Hugh speaks. “Wait..don’t put that on yet. C’mere.” The last part is mumbled as he holds his hands out for you.

You set your shirt down as you walk over to him. Both his arms snake around your waist as soon as you step between his thick thighs. “You look delicious right now.” His arms loosen as he pulls you back, taking in your appearance. “Is me not wearing a shirt, turning you on Hugh?” You tease. You almost forgot that you were only walking around in a simple black t-shirt bra. It lifted your boobs surprisingly well for the style and you could tell it was getting to Hugh. “What if I said it was?” He asks, eyes moving from your chest to your face. “If this gets you going too easily, you’re gonna struggle when you see the outfits I perform in.” You laugh. “Mhm. I’m excited.” He growls with a smirk before plunging his head towards your cleavage, kissing up and down the exposed skin. “You’re such a hornball.” You let out in your fit of laughter. He rests his face in the crook of your boobs. You can hear him mumbling something but you can’t make out the words. “Babe, I have no idea what you’re saying right now.” He reluctantly pulls his face back. “I said that we could always stay in today instead…Wanna get another taste of you.” His hands grip your waist and you feel a pulse between your legs from his words.

“As tempting as that is…and it’s really really tempting. I wanna go out with you today, have some normality before life goes back to normal tomorrow. Maybe we’ll have time before my flight…for what you said.” He smiles and pats your butt. “Okay baby. Finish getting ready so we can go.” You lean down with puckered lips, meeting Hugh’s in a sweet kiss. “I’ll be ready in like fifteen minutes.” You promise as you pick your shirt up and run back into the bathroom.

Somehow in the short time it took you to get ready, Hugh convinced you to let him take you to the airport. You tried to refuse since you already had accommodations made for the early 3:30am flight but he fought back. He said that it would be easier and we could spend more time together before I left. You agreed, wanting to spend every single last second with the man you loved. He threw your suitcase in the trunk of his car and the two of you were off on whatever adventure Hugh had planned.

The first stop was at Battery park to see the Statue of Liberty. Hugh surprised you with a ferry ride that took you from the park to Liberty island, then Ellis island. You thanked Hugh non-stop as you boarded the ferry. You were a big history nerd and being able to be around objects and buildings that have existed for many generations of people before you, excited you to your core. Hugh was watching your thrill with a smile, sneaking pictures of you when he could- you never noticed. You did ask him to take a few pictures of you as the ferry moved right in front of lady liberty herself. Your smile was wide, eyes crinkled behind your sunglasses. Hugh held you close the entire time, kissing the top of your head every now and then. He would take you all over the world if it meant he got to see you this happy all the time.

The whole exploration took about four hours. You were very thorough in your wanding, not wanting to miss a single detail. You apologized to Hugh every time you felt like you were taking too long but he never seemed annoyed or upset, just happy to be with you. Once you were back on the mainland, the two of you were starving and started to discuss places to eat. “I think that Stardust place would be fun but I heard it’s almost impossible to get in.” You don’t mean for it to sound like it was something you really wanted to do. You were just thinking out loud. “I can get us in there baby.” Hugh says, shrugging his shoulders. “Hugh Jackman…are you telling me you’d name drop yourself for me?” You smile. “I told you, anything for you sweetheart.” He raises your intertwined hands to his face, leaving a kiss on yours. “As sweet as that is, I could probably name drop myself and get in.” You smile. “It’s probably not smart for you to go into a place full of theater nerds anyway since you’ve been on Broadway multiple times or whatever.” You joke. “You’re probably right. I am quite the Broadway star.” He jokes back. “Fuck it. Let’s just get pizza again. I've only a tourist for so long, remember?” “Fuck it.” He agrees.

You find a different pizza shop this time, waiting in the car while Hugh goes in to order. You spent the time looking through your phone. You saw a few texts from Ashley and it made your heart ache. She was a terrible friend but you still grieved the good times you did have. Once you got back home, you knew it was probably for the best to talk to her, settle everything, and get some closure. You thought a lot about loose ends you needed to tie as you entered this new chapter of your life, Pedro being one of them as well. You wanted as clean of a slate you could get as you moved forward with Hugh.

“God I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I walked in there.” Hugh says as he opens the driver door, sitting two styrofoam cups in the center console drink holders. “Do you mind holding this for a moment sweetheart?” He asks, holding up a small box that had a large brown paper bag sitting on top. You grab it and Hugh climbs into the car. “Would it be too cliche if we ate this at the great lawn?” You ask with a lazy grin. “Maybe a little bit but it sounds like a great idea darling.” He smiles back.

The drive to Central Park was a short one. Finding a parking spot however, took awhile. Hugh drove through one of the nearby parking garages, going up and down until he finally caught someone pulling out. When the two of you finally reached the lawn, you were a little nervous at the amount of people there but you put it aside, hoping that your sunglasses would be enough to hide you from any possible fans. You found a spot, farther away from the larger crowds. It was peaceful for the most part, both Hugh and yourself to engaged in conversation and eating to care about anything else. When you were both done eating, you scooted closer to Hugh, who then offered you to sit between his legs as he leaned back. Your back was against his chest, lifting with every breath he took. “This is nice.” You say, looking up at Hugh. “It is.” He agrees, kissing your forehead. When you look forward again, a girl catches your eye. She’s sitting not too far off and she’s staring. It makes your heart stop, afraid that she might have recognized you or Hugh. Your suspicion is proved right, her eyes go wide and she lifts her phone, pointing it directly in your direction. “Babe, I think that girl is recording us.” You nudge Hugh slightly to get his attention. He looks in the girl's direction and sighs. “Let’s get out of here.” The two of you walk back to the car, hand in hand.

“Do you wanna go home or are you still up for one more adventure?” Hugh asks once you’re both settled in the car. The way he says ‘home’ makes your heart flutter. You know it’s probably out of habit but it makes you wonder what sharing a home with him would be like, how being with him officially would be. “I’m down for more touristing.” You smile, trying to let go of the bitter mood that girl had put you in. You didn’t mind fans recognizing you but it always sucked when a good moment was taken away because of it- a moment that would have been normal if you and Hugh were ��normal’ people.

The sun was starting to set as Hugh drove and it was beautiful. Seeing the city lights take over was a sight to see. “I thought we were going somewhere else?” You ask in confusion as Hugh pulls into the parking garage of his apartment building. “We are but I thought we could walk, if that’s okay with you love. It’s not too far.” He parks the car in his designated spot. “Yea that’s fine.” His hand squeezes your thigh, a place it often sits as he drives. “Let’s go then.”

You were convinced there wasn’t anything more beautiful than walking through New York at night. You were never fond of big cities, only living in Los Angeles because you had to for work, but something about nyc brings a sense of home you’ve never felt before. Almost like a sense of nostalgia, a longing for a place that felt right.

The last stop happened to be Times Square. The second you found a good spot, you passed your phone over to Hugh to take pictures of you. It was a little over stimulating the longer you stood there, admiring all of the giant screens and billboards. You tried to tough it out as long as possible but your last straw was when some guy in a janky super hero suit tried to come up to you. Hugh was quick to grab you and lead you away. “I can’t make up my mind on what’s worse, the con artist in Hollywood or the ones here.” You joke, Hugh laughs agreeing. The streets started to empty the further away you got from the square and you were thankful for that. As you walked hand in hand with Hugh, you started to hum the melody of ‘New York, New York’ by Frank Sinatra. Hugh smiles down at you and releases your hand to pull you closer, his arm resting over your shoulder. “Ooo. Can we go in there real quick?” You ask, pointing at the small grocery market across the street. “Sure baby.” You can tell he’s confused so you answer his question before he can ask. “I wanna make dinner for you.” You look both ways down the street before crossing. “You don’t have to do that sweet girl.” The sliding doors open and you’re hit with the cool air. “I want to.” He doesn’t say anything else as he follows you around the store. When you hit the produce section, you lift the sunglasses that had been sitting on your face for most of the day, creating a makeshift headband. You gather a mix of yukon gold and baby red potatoes, as well as a few carrots and a stock of broccoli. “What are you making?” Hugh asks as you walk towards the meat shelves, grabbing a pack of two chicken breasts. “A spicy, maple chicken sheet pan dinner.” You explain, walking towards the next aisle. “A sheet pan dinner?” He questions. “You throw everything onto the same pan, shove it in the oven, and boom, you have dinner.” He laughs. “I guess that makes sense.”

Hugh insisted on paying for everything but you refused. He had paid for almost everything else since you’ve been in New York and you had to remind him that you too had too much money than you knew what to do with. He complained about it the whole way back to his apartment, it was kinda cute. When you finally got back, you asked Hugh to gather everything you’d need: a cutting board, a large bowl, a peeler, a colander, etc. You wanted to make sure you had everything so he could sit and watch, just as you had with him this morning. “I could get used to this.” You look up from where you're mixing the veggies and seasoning in a bowl. “What, me cooking for you?” You ask, sarcasm present in your voice. “No, you being here with me.” Hugh smiles. “Oh..” You whisper as you dump the prepped veggies onto the parchment lined sheet pan. “Was that too forward?” You’re patting the chicken with a paper towel and placing them in the same bowl as he asks. “No. I like when you say stuff like that, it just makes me all nervous.” You drizzle the chicken in olive oil and add your choice of seasonings. “Why does it make you nervous?” His elbows are on the counter, hands resting in his hands. “Because someone like you likes someone like me, it’s crazy.” You place the chicken on the sheet pan before placing it into the already heated oven.

Hugh stands up and walks behind you. His arms wrap around you as you wash your hands. “Is it really that hard to believe that I like you?” He asks, giving light kisses to your neck. “Sometimes.” You wiggle out of his arms to dry your hands on a towel that rests on the oven handle. “I must not be doing a very good job at showing it then.” You walk back over to him, where he’s leaning back on the counter. “It’s not you babe, it’s the voices.” You point to your head. “What are they saying?” You think for a moment. “Do you want the default answer or the real answer?” “The real one.” He responds without a second thought. “I think I’m just scared that all of this is temporary.” You say motioned your arms around. “I’m scared that one day you’ll snap out of whatever it is you feel for me and just…just leave and not want me anymore.” He pulls you into his chest. “I don’t know what I can say or do to break you free from that but I can promise that I won't just leave you. If there ever comes a time where I don't want to be with you, which is very unlikely, I’ll tell you.” You don’t say anything as he holds you. The two of you stay like that until the twenty five minute timer you set is going off.

—

“Do you really have to leave today?” He asks, rubbing his hands up and down your back softly. After dinner, Hugh went down to fetch your suitcase out of his car. Both of you took showers, separately this time. Now you were straddling his lap, laying forward with your head resting in the crook of his neck. “Unfortunately..” You sigh out. “You can’t stay just a few more days?” He practically pouts and you can hear the sincerity in his voice. “I really wish I could but duty calls. I jump right into work once I’m back.” This time he sighs. “I’m gonna miss you.” “I’m gonna miss you too.” You give his neck a few small kisses before speaking again. “When are you coming back to LA?” You lift your upper body and rest your hands on his bare chest. “I’m not sure. Got some stuff to deal with here, might take a while.” He lifts himself up, sitting up straight against the headboard, putting you both in the same position as this morning. “Hm. What stuff?” You ask, hands trailing down from his chest to his abs. “Divorce stuff. Ex-wife stuff.” He shrugs slightly and leans forward, his lips meeting your neck as he leaves his own kisses. “Oh..” It comes out more as a moan, Hugh’s teeth nipping at the skin right below your ear. “That must be hard, divorcing after so long together.” His lips falter for a moment. “Doesn’t matter.” He leans back against the headboard. His response made you feel weird. Hugh’s voice was distant. “I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have said anything.” You apologize, letting your hands fall to his shoulders. “It’s okay, it would’ve come up eventually.”

“We don’t have to talk about it Hugh, it’s okay.”

“It’s something we should talk about though. It’s not fair to you. You’ve opened up so much to me, I should do the same for you.” You’re silent, not sure what to say. “Does it bother you?” Hugh asks.

“Does what bother me?” You know what he’s asking but you weren’t sure how to answer.

“That I was married?” He’s looking at you, but you're looking down at his hands.

“No.” It wasn’t a lie. Him being married isn’t what bothered you. “Look at me baby.” His voice is stern, a tone that you haven’t heard before. When you look at him his eyes are quick to line with yours. “Does it bother you? Don’t lie to me.” You sigh, hands sliding from his stomach. You rest them on top of his own where they are placed on your thigh. “I wasn't lying. It doesn’t bother me that you were married.”

“Then what’s up sweet girl? I can tell there's something going on in that pretty head of yours..” The way he’s looking at you makes your heart race. He’s looking at you like you're the most important person in the world, like you mean everything to him.

“I don’t care that you were married…it’s just..this is gonna sound stupid but..I’m scared of how long you two were together and how recent your divorce was.”

“What do you mean baby?”

“Like I said earlier, I’m scared of this being temporary. That I’m just some…god I don’t know…that I’m a rebound or something. That the two of you will realize that being separated wasn’t the right decision.” Your posture breaks as you slump forward slightly. “I knew that she would always be in your life and I’ve been trying to make peace with that…but the thought of you leaving is too much.” You confess.

“Y/n…What Deb and I had has been over for a long time. It was over years before we finalized anything. Everything now is purely about our kids. I’ll always hold love for her in my heart but it isn’t a romantic love anymore. That love is reserved for you sweet girl, all for you.” His fingers delicately lift your chin. “I’m a devoted man y/n. Once you have me, I’m yours. I promise.” His thumb rubs along your jaw. You lift your pinky and he chuckles slightly. He lifts his own and links it with yours. “Does that mean you’re finally gonna ask me to be your girlfriend?” His eyes widened slightly. “Are you ready to be my girlfriend?” Hugh asks, seriousness fills his voice. “I really want to be.” His eyes soften. “What’s stopping you from being all mine baby?”

The question is loaded. The answer was full of worries you shoved deep down, hoping they wouldn’t come up as soon as they did. From the moment you walked into his home, you tried your best to ignore the family photos that littered his walls. Photos of him and his wife with wide smiles, their kids standing between them, smiles just as wide. You pushed down every feeling you had as he showed you the rooms he kept for his kids for when they would visit. His daughter's room hurt the most. You saw glimpses of your own teenage years that you’d excited only a few years earlier. His son’s room reminds you that that was the room of a man whose age was more appropriate for you. You’d been reminded non-stop that what you had with Hugh was wrong in the eyes of others, so wrong that you were starting to feel it too.

“Does it ever worry you that our relationship isn’t practical? That it doesn’t make sense?” He makes a face and he looks almost offended.“How doesn’t it make sense? I like you, you like me. You’re happy, I’m happy. What more is there to it?”

“That’s the thing Hugh. When it comes to you, it will never just be you.” His eyebrows scrunch up. “I'm confused baby.” You sigh. “Hugh, you were married for decades, with kids. What is your ex-wife going to think about you dating a girl that’s thirty three years younger than you? Hell, better yet, what will your kids think Hugh? What are they going to think about you dating a girl that sits right in between their ages?” You rant. “What Deb thinks about us doesn’t matter. She’ll get over it.” His hands give your thighs a small squeeze. “And your kids?” He sighs. “I’m not sure what they’ll think but I’m sure that if I explain it to them they’ll understand. They’re old enough to where you won’t need to be a big part of their lives.”

“I know that babe but I don’t know how I’m supposed to fit into your life as it is. I can’t just show up to the family Christmas parties as your girlfriend. Do you know how fucking weird that will be for me, for them?” His face falls and you know he doesn’t take your words the way you intended. “It would be weird to be my girlfriend?”

“Hugh, that’s not what I meant.” He goes to move you off his lap but you tighten your thighs to stand your ground. “Babe, you have to understand what I mean. I don’t wanna hide from your kids and Deborra. I want to be a part of your life completely and that includes knowing them.” He stops moving and sighs.

“This isn’t going to be easy y/n. I know I have baggage and I’m sorry that this wasn’t something we talked about sooner. I wouldn’t blame you if you wanted to leave and have nothing to do with me.” Hugh lowers his head slightly. “Hugh, I don’t wanna leave you. I’m used to older men, just not ones with ex-wives and kids.” You try to make it lighten the mood, hoping to make him laugh. It doesn’t.

“Everyone’s gonna hate us if we do this. The fans, your family, probably even my family if I’m being honest. The crazy thing is that I don’t care if everyone hates me but I don’t want to be the reason everyone hates you.”

Those last words felt like a weight coming off of your shoulders. The words were so simple but had been so hard to say all this time. They were true. You didn’t care if fans turned on you, you didn’t care if your family disapproved, though you couldn’t imagine them disliking Hugh. Selfishly, you also didn’t care that much if Hugh’s family hated you. These were all miniscule issues when it came to you loving Hugh. As long as he was happy, you were happy. But the thought of Hugh experiencing any of that made your skin crawl. You didn’t want him to lose fans he’s had over the long course of his career, you didn’t want to put him through the burden of his family not approving of you and him having to feel the awkwardness every time you were around them. You couldn’t imagine him jeopardizing the life he had built all because of you. You were still building a career. Everyone around you has already experienced you dating men that have no business dating someone your age. You didn’t want to hurt him with the implications that came along with your name and age.

“That’s not fair to say.” Hugh squeezes your hand. “You can’t put the weight of everything on yourself. If you decide that you want to be with me, then that’s how it’s going to be. You and me. We’ll figure everything out together.” You look off to the side because you know if you look at him the ache you’d been feeling in your throat will betray you. “Look at me.” The hand that isn’t holding yours reaches for your cheek as he attempts to move your face to look towards him. You refuse, already feeling a tear slip down involuntarily. “Baby please.” He tries again and you let him turn your face. A sob escapes, the pain in your neck finally relieved. “What’s wrong y/n? You gotta talk to me.” His voice is sweet and patient. All this man does is care for you in a way that you’ve never experienced before.

“I don’t wanna hurt you and your family Hugh. I don’t want them to suffer, all because I love you.” You sob. “You what?” His hands drop down to your knees. “I love you, Hugh.” You try your best to get the words out through the steady stream of tears. “Do you mean that baby?” He asks softly as one hand comes back to your cheek, wiping a few tears away. “Of course I mean it, that’s why I can’t leave you. I feel so selfish because the smart thing would be to walk away so no one gets hurt but I can’t. I love you too much to let you go.”

“I love you y/n, so much.” He pulls you in for a kiss. “Really?” You ask with sad eyes. “I’m pretty sure I fell in love with you the moment I met you baby. You looked so pretty that day and your voice was like a siren's call. I tried to fight the attraction but when you invited me to your album party, I didn't care anymore. I wanted you.” You grabbed his face at the confession, pulling his lips to yours. You both let every emotion spill into the kiss. “Does this make you my girlfriend now or are we still friends that hook up and love each other?” He asks jokingly with a dopey smile. “As much as I want to say yes, talk to your kids first. Please. I think it would make me feel a little better about everything.” He kisses you. “I’ll talk to them tomorrow.”

—

Leaving Hugh felt impossible. Not knowing when you’d see him next and him being around his ex-wife without you here to distract him made you nervous. You trusted him but when it came to you or the woman he was married to for twenty seven years, it was hard to say he'd choose you. Even after his reassurance, you had a feeling she would always come first.

“Are you sure you can’t come with me?” You ask as you hug him, the two of you in the same hidden room from when he picked you up. “I really wish I could baby. I’ll try to get back out there as soon as I can.” He kisses the top of your head and the two of you stay there for as long as you can. “I should probably go.” You say reluctantly. “Yea, you should.” You give him a few quick kisses. “Don’t leave me waiting too long. I’ll be waiting for you.” You smile at him before giving him one last kiss. “I won’t, sweet girl. Text me as soon as you board and when you land okay?” You grab the handle of your suitcase. “I will.” You start to walk towards the door that leads out to the public but before you go out, you turn towards him one more time. “Bye Hugh.” You give him a small wave. “Bye baby. I love you.” The words make you smile. “I love you Hugh.” You give him one more wave before you walk through the door.

thank you for reading!

series taglist: @chronicallybubbly @spideybv28 @pear-1206 @robertthehoover @reidsworld @bloody-bunni666 @quillycrow @kythefangirl25 @bluetimeombre @cskidjgsjaoaknayan52782 @thewiselionessss @annagraceevanss @peterparkernotfound @rogueinmymind @samsamsantos @wolviesgirl @white-wolf-buckaroo @weskerussy @marvelgirlie-4 @honey-ros3ss @nonamevenus @nizem8 @chaimshelii @rockerchick05 @starryeddie @saylak @haytchee @godlypresley @mega-kittyglitter-1 @acescutejeans-1247 @bethexo07

*taglist closed*

#hugh jackman #cyg #controversially young girlfriend #hugh jackman fanfiction #hugh jackman x reader #hugh jackman fic #hugh jackman fanfic #hugh jackman x female reader #hugh jackman x you #hugh jackman x y/n #hugh jackman x popstar!reader #cyg part six #female reader #x reader #reader insert #hugh jackman reader insert #popstar!reader

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satxnsupreme666 · 6 months ago

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I love you, it’s ruining my life: Agatha Harkness x fem!reder x Rio Vidal

Masterlist

Requested by: @notlhecxzsa

Summary: Agatha cares for you deeply, she loves you, but her fears stop her from revealing the real feelings she has for you, the only way she knows how to cope with her own feelings is by using sarcasm and from time to time say something mean.

Rio developed feelings for you while watching over Agatha and you during the three years you had stayed with her to take care of the the blue-eyed witch who was under Wanda’s spell, Rio doesn’t like the way Agatha treats you just because she doesn’t know how to deal with her feelings.

Can Rio and the coven help Agatha realize that her actions and comments are not only hurting her but she’s also hurting you in the process? Can Rio help Agatha realize that love doesn’t have to make anyone suffer?

Warnings: Agatha is mean to reader because she doesn´t know how to deal with her feelings, reader gets hurt, reader almost dies, angst, I think that´s it.

Word count: 19k+

Author´s notes: In this story Sharon doesn´t die, in fact no one dies, I will always be in denial.

Hello, sorry for being a little bit inactive, and for the requests I have already been sent, have in mind I will be writing them and posting them, just give me please a little bit of time.

@notlhecxzsa thank you so much for requesting this! I really loved your idea! You are really creative and it was really nice to write this, sorry for taking too many days to write this, I´ll be honest I had some really bad days and it was so hard for me to even do anything, but I was finally able to get inspiration and finish this story, again, thank you so much for trusting in me to write your request, it was such a delight to write this, so I hope you like this and that you enjoy it! 💕

I hope all of you enjoy this!🥺💕💕

Taglist: @italianaidiota @midnight-lestrange @eliscannotdance

“Hey, sorry, I didn´t mean to scare you” The tall teen said to you with a soft smile on his face, you had not noticed he had been talking to you for the past minutes, too deep into your own thoughts about how some hours ago Agatha had been released from Wanda’s spell, some hours ago in which Agatha had been thinking that you were her wife, it looked like the older witch did not remember any of the past three years, and Agatha not remembering anything made you feel a pang of sadness to your heart, you had wished at least that during the moments she had been nice and caring towards you she would be able to remember something.

You were going to miss so much the times in which she actually seemed to care about you, and you felt guilty for that, you knew very well Agatha did not like you like that, she just tolerated you because you have proven to her your loyalty, but it had never been enough and would never be.

“It’s alright, I am sorry, I am not so used to people touching me out of nowhere” You replied back at him while you made sure the cups and the table were in order, the teen in front of you tilted his head to the side a little and looked at you with curious eyes.

“What did you ask me again? Sorry” You asked him again, clearing your throat a little, it was a little bit uncomfortable to be under someone else’s gaze, you were also letting him know that he could ask again whatever he had inquired.

“Oh yes! I was just asking how come you were living here with Agatha while she was under the spell and you were…not” He asked you carefully, he could see that whatever had happened was a touchy subject for you.

He still remembered the way Agatha had told you how she thought you had disappeared out of her life for real half an hour ago and then she just left the hall and went upstairs to do god knows what, you had been kind enough to help him untie him out of the rope and helped him to get out of the closet.

“Thank you by the way, for untying me” He said chucking, he could see you were kind and nice, and was really curious about what you were doing with Agatha.

You stopped to think about the past three years and about 7 months, the way Wanda had trapped you under her mind control, giving you the role of Agnes’ wife, you remembered everything perfectly because even from the first 4 months of just watching everything from the inside as if you were on a tv show and being controlled by Wanda’s mind, you were also conscious, living everything without actually having a chance to do something, it had been a weird experience, but what was also one of the weirdest things, was that you had not felt pain nor anything unlike the other residents of “Westview” that had claimed they were terrorized, you had not felt any type of pain during the months you were controlled, that had been what you assumed to be the first months, because one day you just woke up and what shocked you was that you actually were able to move as you wanted.

The teen cleared his throat softly and you came back to the present again, ready to answer his question.

“Well, I am not sure, I mean, one day I woke up not being able to control myself, following Wanda’s schedule, playing the role she had given to me which had been being Agnes’ wife” You felt your face getting warmer at the mention of your role.

“And then suddenly I was able to move on my own, I was able to actually went where I wanted, I don’t know. Then Agnes, or well, Agatha came to me to tell me she had released me from Wanda’s mind control and that I was in debt with her, so she “hired” me to pay my debt to her with some things, so I just stayed, I felt like I really had a debt with her, you know?” You were such a liar, you knew very well you had stayed because you liked so much the older witch that you wanted to get her approval and get her to like you, so you stayed with her to help her and do whatever she had wanted.

“Then you know, Wanda’s hex was destroyed, I am not sure how and I still don’t know, but the next day Agatha seemed to be a completely different person and claimed to be named Agnes, and well, I couldn’t let her alone, you know? She needed help, I helped her the way I could”

You brushed your shoulders trying to act nonchalant, you just hoped he believed you, because you had stayed with her because of the feelings you had developed for Agatha, and when she actually thought you were her wife and the way she actually treated you or her character “Agnes” had treated you had made you fell harder for the older woman, even though you always tried and made sure not to cross any boundaries because you were aware that was not what Agatha had wanted and you wanted to actually respect her, you never initiated any type of physical contact, she would only hug you and give you soft kisses from time to time, or more like, Agnes had given them to you, but you never actually took advantage of that, you always made sure she was fine, listening to her, to the different ideas and plots her mind had created, always making sure she was fine.

The dark-haired boy nodded slowly and seemed to be analyzing you, so in order for him to stop looking at you so weird you decided to change the subject.

“I also wanted to make sure Señor Scratchy would be fine” You told him and went towards one of the couches in the living room to take the fluffy bunny in your arms, bringing him close to the teen so he could see the bunny closer.

“He is so sweet; can I pet him?” He asked you and you sighed, relieved that he seemed to have forgotten the subject of how you knew Agatha, you nodded and passed the bunny over to him after caressing his little ears.

“He is really sweet, never bites, and he loves to snuggle against people” You proudly said remembering all the times you had spent at night on the couch hugging the bunny closer to you or the times when you had been sad and cried alone laying on the biggest couch and feeling the bunny climbing up and snuggling against your arms, you would always hug him and pet him lovingly.

“He would be an amazing service bunny” You jokingly said and the teen laughed, he was petting his ears and saying how cute the bunny was.

You heard footsteps coming from the stairs and quickly straightened yourself, brushing your hair with your hands to make sure you looked decent for Agatha, you did not notice the teen saw the way you were making sure you looked fine, and he internally laughed, he was sure you liked the older woman but would not comment about it.

Agatha came down wearing sunglasses and a hat, her style always so elegant and so beautiful, she really knew how to dress, you quickly looked back at your clothes, hoping they were enough.

“I see you made yourself useful and helped our guest here” She said to you while eying the teen, her eyes peeking from the top of her sunglasses.

You tried to ignore the comment and just nodded; the teen looked back at you with his eyebrows furrowed together.

“So, are we going to gather our coven?” The teen asked out loud and you went to take Mr.Scratchy from his arms, taking the bunny carefully and making sure the little fluffy ball knew how good he was, Agatha had put her glasses back and thought no one was watching her, so she decided to eye you while you were entertained petting the little bunny, she felt her heart skipping a beat at the sight, she had always loved the way you were so gentle not only with Mr.Scratchy but with animals in general, you were always so kind that it actually started to make her feel things, which was absurd, because how could someone like you actually make her feel something, it was obviously the fake memories Wanda had implanted on her head, there was no other explanation, she huffed and quickly went to look back at the teen.

“Yeah, whatever, let’s meet our coven” Agatha said with feigned excitement, she turned around and you quickly went to place Mr.Scratchy on the carpet, the teen turned himself around and looked at you with a smile.

“You can help me choose the music we’ll play in the car, I have a variety of songs in my playlist and I also have cd’s if you prefer them” The dark-haired boy said with excitement, and you felt happy to be included in what seemed to be really serious, you came to stand next to the teen when Agatha quickly turned herself with a frown on her face and walked back towards the two of you.

“Whoa, whoa, wait a minute, who told you she could come?” The older witch had felt suddenly a wave of worry taking over her, you were not supposed to be part of that, how would you even be safe? You were not even a witch! She pushed really hard the feeling away and again said to herself it was only the fake memories and fake feelings Wanda had planted in her.

“But I can help” You said eagerly, trying to let her know you would be useful, trying to get her approval one more time.

Agatha felt conflicted, she should not even care about you wanting to come, the more the better, if someone died on the road, no one would care! Everyone had to carry on, and continue to keep on walking down the road, but still, deep down, if something really happened to you, she was not sure what could happen, Agatha did not even want to actually think of something happening to you, but why did she care so much? You were no one to her.

“You are only going to slow us down” Agatha replied looking at you with her arms crossed on her chest, trying to see if maybe you would just agree on not going.

“No wait, I can be useful, you know? I can help you, all of you, just like I have been helping” You said hopeful, trying so hard to convince Agatha to let you join them, you saw the way she pursed her lips and suddenly you felt the same way you used to feel all those months you had passed with her again during Wanda’s hex, your mind going for a moment back to the past, the way she would say a comment that would make you feel bad or how she looked at you when you were too pushy on something, so you quickly lowered your gaze to look at the floor.

Agatha was thinking, too much, many different thoughts coming and going, if she let you go, she would be risking your life, if not many witches survived the road, what could happen to you? You could die and then, she would never get to see you again, her heart was beating so loud she was afraid the teen or you could actually hear her beating heart.

But now that the Salem seven were also behind her, she was powerless, and had no ways to actually do something if you were magically attacked, what would she be able to do?

“You are not even a witch” The way Agatha said that to you, with so much disdain, and making you feel less and not enough made you feel a pang of pain in your heart, you were not used to her mean comments anymore, sure when Wanda was still around and you were helping Agatha the comments and mean actions were common, but during those three years she had been “Agnes” you had not received any of those, so even now that you were aware and you knew she would make comments like that again, still it shocked you to hear them actually coming from her mouth, hearing them from the woman you loved so much made you want to cry.

Agatha noticed the way your shoulders tensed, and saw the way for a moment an expression full of pain and disappointment was visible on your face, you quickly went to hide and tried to compose yourself, you thought no one would notice it, but she did, you had been so many years with her that it was something she had picked up from you from the start, your small antics that made you so special, but she was not going to say anything about that.

The teen could not actually believe how even after those years that you had been there taking care of her, Agatha still could treat you like that! It was visible for him that you were head over heels for that woman and yet you tolerated the way she spoke to you, he felt bad for you but also, he did not want to intrude.

The blue-eyed witch felt like she did not know what to do, the only logical way for her to make you not go was the way she knew, the way she was used to, and that was how she was acting, but the sad look on your face and how you were not even looking at her made her for a second think twice what she was doing.

“Fine! Whatever but if you die I am not making a funeral” Agatha quickly said and rolled her eyes turning herself around to start walking to the door, she hated feeling nervous and actually worried for someone else, she had been alone for centuries, never having to look after some else, only looking after her, and then you came, with your sweet smile, kind words and actions, making sure she had what she needed and always tending for her needs, her sweet y/n, but there was no way, you had to know any of that.

Slowly you lifted your head to look at the teen and finally the two of you smiled, you tried to ignore Agatha’s comment, she always said something like that, so you tried not to take it personally, but still it hurt you to hear that.

You realized Agatha had already stepped out of the house.

“We better hurry, Agatha doesn’t like waiting for too long” You said to him and he nodded instantly, the two of you went out and you quickly locked the door, starting to walk behind the teen, following him, you saw Agatha standing next to the car looking at her reflection on the window.

The teen went quickly to open the doors and he went to enter the car to start the engine.

After making sure the three of you were already inside the car the teen smiled at you through the mirror.

“Do you want to play some music?” He inquired while turning the engine on and you were about to say yes but noticed the way Agatha was looking at you through the mirror as well, she had her eyes frowned and decided not to annoy her.

“No, uhm, it’s alright, I mean, whatever you want, don’t worry” You replied back and went to look through the window, trying to avoid their gazes, the teen did not say anything else and started to drive slowly waiting for Agatha to give instructions, but Agatha was too immersed looking at you through the mirror, she was analyzing your expression, the way you seem not to want to cause her any trouble, even going against your own wishes, how could you put her first? Your beautiful face looking at the window, looking at the street and the houses you were passing through, how could you make her feel things she had not felt in centuries?

“Where to Agatha?” The boy asked her directly and she quickly turned her head to look at him.

“Keep driving I’ll tell you when to turn and where to stop” She announced and looked at the path ahead, during the ride Agatha could not keep her eyes off you, looking at you through the mirror, and feeling her heart beat faster at the way your expression tended to change, she was still worried, how would she be able to make sure nothing happened to you?

When you were about to turn your head to look at the other side Agatha quickly turned to look at the other direction so that you would not notice she had been looking at you.

“Wait, stop! You already passed the shop!” Agatha quickly said and the teen had to abruptly stop.

“Oh my god” He said grabbing with a strong grip the steering wheel.

“Are you alright?” The teen asked while looking at you through the mirror and when Agatha saw the way he looked worried she turned her head hastily to look at you, you were grabbing your seatbelt with both of your hands and you just nodded, she sighed in relief seeing you had not hurt yourself.

“Who taught you how to drive?” Agatha said with an annoyed look on her face after the teen made sure to park where the shop was located a few meters behind and finally went to unlock the door to get out of the car.

The boy and you looked at each other still inside the car, Agatha was already outside walking towards the entrance of the building.

“Is she serious?” The dark-haired boy asked you directly and you only laughed a little bit while slowly nodding.

“Don’t mind her, she doesn’t mean it” You said to him and you proceeded to also get out of the car, the teen did the same and the two of you started to walk alongside towards the waiting older witch.

“Took you long enough” Agatha commented while accommodating her hat.

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Getting to know Lilia had been interesting to say the least, the interaction with her made you aware of how Agatha was perceived amongst the other witches, and got you thinking about her and her actions, for you it was not possible that Agatha could be really that selfish right? Could it be true every single thing that was said about her? Maybe other people did not like it, but for you she was just maybe, misunderstood, she was smart, amazing, a beautiful woman, or maybe, just maybe was your heart dictating your brain what to think.

Agatha had been carefully watching you whenever Lilia said something about her, whenever Lilia reminded her of what other witches thought about her, her past hunting her again, and the way you seemed to be so deep in thought about everything you have heard, made her heart ache with pain, she did not want you to believe all of those things, she did not want you to become afraid of her, but just as she had never actually care for someone in so much time, she didn´t know what to do.

“So, we’re at the mall, where to?” The teen asked with a smile on his face, you stopped walking and waited for Agatha to give instructions.

“Just follow me, it is not too far away” The blue-eyed witch said while starting to walk again, the boy looked at you and you only shrugged your shoulders, the two of you started to follow Agatha from behind.

After entering a shop on the second floor you frowned, where were they supposed to find a witch in there? You were about to ask the teen when you felt someone pushing you hard and losing your balance you fell to the floor, your hand colliding first on the cold floor making you wince in pain, Agatha quickly noticed that and quickly walked closer to you, she got worried thinking you had hurt yourself but when you started to get up the floor so quickly she did not get time to act as if she was not looking carefully at you, you stood up and were surprised to see Agatha standing there in front of you, frowning you sent her a questioning look and Agatha blinked several times before realizing what she was doing and without saying anything she turned herself around to look for the teen and the witch that had tackled him, her heart beating so fast against her chest, the blue-eyed witch cleared her throat and waited for the other witch to just get fired.

You did not understand what had just happened, and Agatha’s action or whatever she had done made you confused, what had just happened?

Agatha was shaken, she could not believe she had acted on impulse, but the thought of you getting hurt made her heart feel a deep feeling of pain and fear, why did she care so much? You were nothing! Not even a witch who she could drain the powers from, you were a mortal, and that was what also made her feel even more afraid, ignoring always could help, at least that’s what she thought would work.

You were not sure what the teen and Agatha were saying to the shorter woman, you were not interested if you were honest, too deep in your own thoughts, why had Agatha gotten closer to you? Did she want to make sure you were not hurt? For a second you heard jumped a bit, feeling warm at the mere thought of Agatha caring about you, but then you remembered how three years ago you had gotten hurt because she had got mad and she did not even turn herself around to take a look at you. You remembered that day very clearly and it made you shiver, she had been mad that day, mad because her plan was not working, mad because she couldn’t understand how Wanda had created everything from scratch, how she had brought her dead husband back or how she even created her two children! She was not even close to what she wanted and your only error had been to ask if she needed help.

You winced at the memory of her words, the way she had turned herself around so fast you were afraid she would hurt herself.

“How are you going to help me? You don’t even have powers, you are not even useful, you can’t get the information I have already told you to get, if you want to help, you will leave” Agatha had said to you and you had felt the way the tears started to fall down your face.

“You can’t be serious, I am the one who is stressed, you are fine here! I released you from the spell, you are not suffering, I gave you a chance to help me, and you are crying?” You could see Agatha getting angrier and the way her eyes started to grow purple made you afraid.

“Why won´t you leave? I said leave!” Agatha had yelled and the next thing you knew, you had been thrown out of the room, colliding against the wall and falling onto the hard wooden floor with a hard thud, it had hurt, but it was not a unbearable pain, you had slowly stood up groaning a little and Agatha just looked at you with her eyes widened, but quickly turned herself around and walked out of the house, leaving you alone in there, you had felt awful, you wanted to think she had not made it on purpose, you had wanted to convince yourself that she had done it without thinking twice, always listening to your heart instead of your brain, always making excuses for her, and that was what ruined you, always excusing everything she said and did, loving her was sometimes hard, but you couldn’t stop the feeling.

“Are you hungry?” A hand on your shoulder made you jump slightly taking you back to the present, you blinked several times only to realize you were on the food court of the mall, when had you gotten there?

“Not really” You answered the teen and smiled at him, he nodded and when you saw Agatha you noticed she was looking at you again with that unreadable expression on her face, she quickly lifted her hand to scratch her eyebrow slightly and turned herself around to walk towards a free table to seat there. The way you always jumped slightly whenever someone touch you out of nowhere made her also feel worried, what had happened to you? She really wanted to know but she did not have the courage to ask you out loud.

Agatha’s gaze made you feel a little bit weirded out because, she had never looked at you that way, was she analyzing you? thinking you were just a bother? You had many ideas running through your head, so many bad things that she could be thinking about you so you decided to just take your phone out to start scrolling whatever you could find.

You were trying so hard to focus on something else trying not to mind Agatha and when the teen asked what she wanted to eat and the two of them went to order their food you decided to take that little time to go to the nearest bathroom to wash your face. You still couldn’t understand why Agatha was looking at you in such a weird way, you never knew what she could be thinking or what her next move could be, so you only hoped for the best, feeling the cold water on your face relaxed you a little, you tried to lessen the tension on your shoulders and finally when you dried your face you decided it was time to go back to the two people you had come with, what you had not expecting was Agatha and the teen standing there in front of the table you had chosen and looking everywhere around the place, Agatha seemed to be tense, the way her shoulders seemed to tense just as she was speaking to the teen as if she was scolding him but you were not sure why.

Slowly you made your way to them, trying not to interrupt the conversation they were having in order not to bother Agatha, you did not want to make her angry at you.

After making sure you were centimeters away from them, you were able to hear what was the older witch and the teen talking about.

“You could have made sure she stayed here! Why couldn’t you watch where she went to?” Agatha sounded pissed but you were not understanding what was going on.

“I went with you to pay for the food! How was I supposed to know she would be leaving?” The teen had lifted his hands up in the air, not knowing what to do.

You cleared your throat to announce yourself and the two of them quickly turned themselves to look at you, when Agatha saw you, she felt relieved, she had felt her heart would stop at any minute trying to figure out where had you gone or if you had finally decided you wanted to leave her and be free, she had thought the worst, had you finally realized she was not a good person? That she was actually a wicthkiller and she was not capable of loving? She almost cried feeling desperate not knowing where you had gone, and seeing you there back again in front of her, made her feel at peace, she had wanted to hug you but again, she suppressed that feeling and only sighed.

“You know you could have said where you were going?” Agatha quickly commented while turning around to finally take a seat, she started to eat her corndog nonchalantly as if she had not just blamed the teen for losing you out if their sight and almost crying at the thought of you leaving, the teen was trying so hard not to laugh so he took the seat next to Agatha and brought the cup he had on the table to his lips, covering his grin.

You did not understand what had just happened or why she seemed so annoyed that you had left for some minutes, so deciding not to comment nor say anything you sat down on the seat in front of Agatha and the teen.

The older witch started to eat nonchalantly as if nothing had happened and the teen proceeded to do the same, you did not find anything to do so you just decided to keep doing what you had been doing on your phone, there was not much to do, you still had to wait for them to finish eating and then you had to still look for the other witches to complete the coven.

Your mind wandered back to a few hours ago, when you had heard Lilia saying random names of tarot cards, you had studied a little bit of tarot a while ago, and from what you knew, the first card Lilia had said out of nowhere had been Ace of cups, what did you remember about ace of cups? It had to do with new beginnings, right? Something about new relationships, what else? A card alone could have many different meanings, cards also have to be paired to have a more specific meaning, right? What other cards had Lilia said? Six of cups and two of cups, the meaning could also depend on the deck and also the context of course, what did you remember about the six of cups card?

It had to do with nostalgia? You tried to think harder, and yes you remembered! It also had to do with the past, in certain cases that could mean the past could come back somehow, revisiting some past memories? You were not sure, the meaning of that was the one you remembered the most, it had to do with partnership, creating a union, union of forces, could it be the coven reuniting and forming a union? You were not sure and tried not to think about it too much, you just wanted to remember what the cards could mean.

The last card Lilia had mentioned had been the lovers and that card could have just as every other tarot card a different meaning depending on the context, so it would be too risky to jump into any conclusions even though you wished deeply for that card to have a good meaning for you and a certain blue-eyed witch, Agatha noticed the way you seemed to be thinking a lot, the way you unconsciously tended to bite your lower lip while you were too focused on whatever you were thinking, it was an habit she had noticed since you started living with her when Wanda was still around, even if she never allowed herself to say it out loud, she had picked up almost all of your gestures, expressions and even antics, and could only wondered why you looked to be so worried.

The next stop all of you made was on the shop of the famous social media influencer Jennifer Kale, you felt nervous getting to be near someone as famous as her who had so many followers, the teen seemed to be excited due to his bouncy state.

“Aren´t you excited?” The boy asked you with a huge smile on his face, you nodded slightly letting him know that you were feeling the same, Agatha eyed you a little, she was walking behind you and noticed you shifting a little, showing that you were feeling nervous, it was something you used to do all the time when feeling stressed or nervous, moving your legs a little or passing your hands various times through your hair to soothe yourself, during those three years she would caress your hair a little to help you feel at ease, but right now, she could not get herself to do it .

You still did not understand why Agatha kept staring at you with such a weird look that you did not understand, so you only decided not to engage too much into their conversation with Jennifer, and only stood next to the teen.

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The way Agatha had ripped the teen´s decoration to welcome the witches made you feel a little bit bad for him, but you knew Agatha was feeling stressed, you even felt stressed because you did not know what would be waiting for you on the road, and it also made you feel scared.

“Hey” You said softly to Agatha with a frown on your face, she quickly looked back at you and felt surprised for your reaction.

“It looked nice, he did it with his own hands, I gave him the sheets of paper and the markers, it was pretty” Agatha blinked several times and when she saw the way you had stretched out for her to give her back the decoration Agatha did not think twice and handed it to you.

The teen was smirking and when Agatha saw him, she only rolled her eyes at him and walked into the other room, leaving you and him to keep on doing what you had planned.

“How did you do that?” The dark-haired boy had a big smirk on his face, and you only shrugged your shoulders not understanding what he meant, so you only gave to him back what he had made and helped him to put it back on the wall.

“That looks nice” A voice behind you commented and you turned yourself around to look at the woman who had arrived.

“He made it” You replied smiling softly at the potion´s witch and she returned the smile, even if you had not spoked with her that much, she could see you were nice.

“Thank you for coming” The boy looked at her with a big smile. Lilia arrived secondly and you greeted her happily, waving your hand at her, she did the same to you and the boy offered them a snack, you were not sure where he had gotten them, but decided not to ask, Agatha could not have given them to him, right?

“Hi” The woman with the red strands of hair arrived, she had her hands on her pockets and you smiled at her as well.

“Sorry for tackling you” Alice said to the teen and then looked at you.

“Sorry for making you fall as well” Smiling you laughed out loud.

“It´s alright, it was not that bad, don´t worry” Alice nodded and shily looked at the floor.

“What type of witch are you?” Jennifer suddenly asked you and you quickly shook your head.

“Oh, no, I am not a witch I am just here helping Agatha” You replied with a smile on your face, the three witches looked at each other with a confused look, they did not understand how could someone be happy helping Agatha, you seemed too nice to be working with her.

Before anyone could make more questions, Agatha appeared again, entering the living room dressed completely different, she really looked amazing with that coat on her.

“Alright, let´s walk the road” The new coven started to walk towards Agatha´s basement and you decided to go grab Mr. Scratchy to put him in a safe place, the teen followed you to get him back onto his large cage to get him safe, you two were too concentrated on making sure the bunny was fine that you did not get to hear the conversation about them needing a green witch, you did not even notice when Agatha left the house and came back with Mrs. Davis behind her.

“Alright, we are all set” The teen nodded and walked back to one of the couches to seat in there, you decided you would go the basement to see how else you could help Agatha with.

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“You can’t be here” Agatha quickly said to you making sure the other witches were not listening, she had guided you towards the stairs of her basement to let you know you were not allowed to be in her basement, at least not right now, she did not even know what could happen and deep down the fear was taking over her again, she feared something could really happen to you, and if you got hurt, she would never forgive herself, but how could she let you know that without making a fuss of her own emotions? Without actually saying out loud what she felt?

Your confused look made you look so pretty, why were you so kind to her even after everything she had done? You were too pure and yet you wanted to help her.

“But then how am I going to help?” You asked her, completely confused on why Agatha was telling you not be there with them, the older woman didn´t want you to get hurt, she did not even know what was going to happen and she could not risk you getting hurt.

“Listen, I know you want to help, but remember, the only ones who can open the door are witches, so, you would be more helpful if you go back and stay with the boy and wait for me to give you more instructions, alright?” She was trying so hard to convince you to go back and was hoping that you would accept quickly, she was sure you still had not even noticed about the weird entities wanting to get her, and you were also completely oblivious to the fact that her former lover had also paid her a visit, so she really needed for her and her new “coven” to get through this as fast as possible.

“Alright” You said to her and Agatha felt relieved you understood quickly.

She made sure you closed the door behind you and went back to the circle.

“What a beautiful wife and helping wife you have Agatha” Mrs. Davis commented, she remembered you and her being on Wanda´s hex and from time to time she also saw you going to the grocery store or just walking down the street during those past three years, of course the woman did not know what had happened.

All of the other witches hastily turned their heads to look at Agatha with a shocked expression on their faces, how was it possible that Agatha had a wife?

Agatha laughed nervously and tried to act as if that comment had not meant anything to her.

“How did you get her to be your wife? Do you have it under some kind of spell?” Jennifer asked with a smirk on her face, how could it be possible? Agatha pursed her lips not wanting to give explanations.

“Well Jennifer, unlike you I can actually get someone who wants to be with me, not magic involved, are you jealous?” The smirk on Agatha´s face made Jennifer feel her blood boiling and Lilia sensed the tension.

“We are not here to discuss anyone´s love life, we have a goal in common ladies” The Sicilian witch tried to reason with them, not wanting for a fight to start.

“Yeah, maybe you can give us some tips later” Alice commented while raising her eyebrows and nodding slowly, Lilia turned her head to look at her with her left eyebrow raised.

“What?” Alice did not understand the look on the curly haired witch.

Upstairs, you went back to sit next to the boy, and looked at you with a concerned expression on his face.

“Agatha told me to come wait here with you” He tilted his head and looked at you carefully.

“We can play a card game in the meantime if you want, I have the Uno game card, I mean it is only the two of us, but,-“

“Sure, I love board and card games, so let´s play” He interrupted you, he loved card games and always was eager to play one with people he liked, he was sure you and him could be great friends.

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You looked at Agatha standing herself from the water slide, the way she had not let you get cut your skin with the knife, she had taken the teen’s hand to get the blood they needed, the way she had seen so reluctant to actually cut you with the knife when you had offered yourself, the way she quickly snapped back and said no to you, or how she had taken the glass of wine out of your hands, she had not allowed you to drink from the poisoned wine, claiming only true witches were allowed to drink, but those little actions made your heart flutter with happiness, maybe she really cared about you? Maybe she actually felt something nice towards you? You were beyond happy, finally Agatha was showing something else towards you than just annoyance and that made you feel a lot better.

Agatha felt on edge, she was making sure you would not hurt yourself, but you were making it hard for her, really hard, when she saw you with the glass on your hands, her heart beat so faster that she thought it was going to get out of her ribcage, you almost drank the wine because you had been joking around the teen, she was not sure what you two were laughing about, and her heart felt warm at the sight, but when she saw you were about to take a sip, she had lost her composure for a minute, she had not cared if the others saw her, you were more important to her than anything else or what other people could think, she ran towards you and snatched the glass from your hands, everyone looked at her with wide eyes including you and she only said something mean to cover her real feelings and her beating heart.

You and Billy had only looked at each other with a confused look and just brushed what had happened off, Agatha always did something like that.

Agatha felt he heart skip a beat not long after the wine incident, you had offered your own hand to get the blood they needed, wanting to help, always willing to help whoever was in need, and again she did not understand how you were not afraid, she was not going to cut your skin, there was no way she would hurt you like that, so she quickly took the teen’s hand and cut his skin, she gave you a quick look with a weird expression you had not seen before, Agatha was stressed, how would she be able to help you and take care of you when you were putting yourself in such dangerous situations!?

Agatha felt relieved for a moment, you had gotten out of the trial without a scratch, you were safe, you were still there in front of her, until the teen and you started to explore the path a little too far away, Alice was saying something about a way to get Mrs. Davis out of the road, to keep her safe, but Agatha was not listening anymore, her eyes squinting to look at the two of you trying to take some orange leaves from the path, but when she saw the way your foot had tripped over she felt her heart skipping a beat again, her worried face showed what she was actually feeling, not daring to hide her emotions, the blue-eyed witch ran off to where you had fallen on the mud as quick as she could.

You had been trying to reach for a weird shaped leave on the path outside the actual road to show it to the teen but the next thing you knew you were fighting to walk out of the pool of mud that seemed to engulf you more and more as the seconds passed, you felt the teen grabbing you by your hands, trying to push you back over to the road, but it was not working, he was doing everything he could until he felt a body pushing him to the side, a strong pair of arms circled your waist and in less than a second, you were released from the mud, you lifted your head to see the blue-eyed woman looking worriedly at you, she took your face in her hands, checking for any type of wounds and when you were about to throw yourself at her to hug her, she quickly turned herself around to walk back towards the other witches.

You felt confused? What had just happened, so you decided to follow Agatha from behind until you reached her when she was closer to her coven, even if you were scared of her reaction, you stretched your hand out to touch her shoulder.

“Agatha?” You asked in a small voice, and Agatha turned herself around to look at you, the way her blue eyes for a minute turned purple and the way her eyebrows were furrowed aggressively, made you feel small.

“You should not even be here! You are not a witch! You are nothing!” Agatha quickly pressed her hand over her mouth, she had not wanted for that to happen, she had not meant what had come out of her mouth, she did not mean any of what she had said, but the way you had put yourself in danger already three times and being careless to get outside the path, that you had almost drowned in the mud made her feel even more powerless, she did not have her magic, she was useless! How would she be able to actually save you from a magical threat or even from the Salem seven! She had snapped out of fear and stress, but she did not actually mean what she had said.

Too late, she thought when she noticed your beautiful eyes getting glossy, and the way you looked down at the floor, her heart ached so much looking at you this way, she would have loved to pull you closer to her and hug you but she couldn’t get herself to actually do it.

You felt guilty for missing “Agnes” the way she treated you with respect, the way she made you feel seen and showered you with gifts and compliments, the way she hugged you when she noticed you were feeling under the weather.

Of course, you felt guilty because, “Agnes” was not even real, it was an illusion, something Wanda had created, only playing a role she was assigned to play along, “Agnes” had been just an illusion, a dream! A beautiful dream that you could not help but miss, it had been three years of you sharing your life with “Agnes” and even if she was under a spell, you actually saw the cracks of her actual self, her real personality, some times it was more noticeable but the only thing that actually differed from “Agnes” and Agatha was their way they treated you. Even if you knew the way “Agnes” had treated you had been just something she had to play under the spell, you could not help but wish that Agatha would treat you some day like that, hoping to get her to like you at least, you wanted her to love you the same way you loved her, why had you been doomed to love the person who did not even like you at all?

Even if you had lived three years with her, it only had felt like a short period of time, you had spent so many time loving her, waiting for her to reciprocate your feelings for real, but at this point, you knew it would never happen, and you would only love her forever even if you did not want to, because, how on earth could you actually stop loving her?

Agatha could not stand the state you were in, she had caused this, she had hurt you, again, she did not deserve you, she would never deserve you, you would only get more and more hurt with her by your side, how could you still be there with her?

You knew Agatha very well, or at least that was what you thought, but did you really?

The three years you had passed with her, you had thought you had got to know her entirely, you had let yourself think that maybe if you were patient enough with her, gave her enough space, the space she needed, the time she needed to open up, she would realize slowly that she could trust you, and then she would magically realize you loved her completely and that you would do anything for her, hoping she would return one day your feelings, but just as you still could hear her screaming at you, you felt so stupid, still holding onto a stupid daydream and feeling that would never happen,

You loved her so much it was ruining your life and even though you knew that very well, you were sure you would not stop doing it.

Lilia noticed the tension between you and her, well, everyone noticed the tension, but no one dared to move or say something, too afraid to make everything worse, the teen was mad, he could not understand why Agatha treated you the way she did, when the only thing you wanted was to help her and make sure she was fine, you had stayed with her for three years! Taking care of her making sure she would be fine! How could Agatha be so selfish? How could she not be grateful for once in her life? He couldn’t take it anymore, you were one of the kindest people he had gotten to know, and the way she treated you and said mean things to you had to change, he started to walk towards the two of you to face Agatha and help her to get some sense into that thick skull of hers, Lilia noticed the boy walking with an angry expression on his face, the way his hands had formed into fists and knew that would end up even worse, the divination witch turned her face to quickly look at Jenn and Alice and as if they had understood the two witches nodded at her and Lilia took this chance to quickly stand up and walk as fast as she could towards the fuming teen to stop him.

Lilia put her hand on his shoulder and placed herself in front of him, to stop him from going farther and looked at him straight into his eyes.

The dark-haired boy frowned, confusion all over his face, but Lilia only shook her head, as if telling him not to do what he had in mind.

“Let’s give them time, I can sense your intentions are good, but we cannot interfere, I hate the way that poor girl is treated but we cannot interfere right now” The boy nodded slowly, trying to clear his head, maybe Lilia was right, but he still hated seeing you so sad.

“I will take the girl to have a chat with her, you stay here and make sure Agatha takes back that poor woman back to her home, alright?” Lilia patted his shoulder and turned back herself to get closer to you and Agatha, you were still looking down to the floor, crying silently, Agatha was looking at you not moving, just stuck there in front of you with some tears falling from her face, Lilia came next to you and placed her left hand on your shoulder, in a slow way and making sure she made sound in order to alert you that someone was behind you and getting closer to you, she had noticed the way you tended to tense when someone got too closer too you without alerting first and when someone touched you without letting you know before, so she did not want to cause you more distress, it made her feel content, that she did not startle you.

“Let’s take a walk alright sweetheart?” You nodded and slowly turned yourself around to start walking never taking your eyes off the floor, Lilia saw the way you started to walk slowly and went back to look at Agatha.

“I’m going to make sure she’s fine, please take Sharon back to her home, we don’t need more innocent people getting hurt” Agatha nodded quickly and hastily wiped the tears off her face, Lilia gave her a soft smile before turning her body around and walked towards you, she then placed her hand again on your shoulder and gave it a soft squeeze, that action comforted you, and you made a mental note to thank her for that later. Lilia and you walked next to each other, the older and gentle woman never letting go of your shoulder, you walked in silence for some minutes, until you reached a tall tree with some tree-trunks on the floor, Lilia guided you to them and made you take a seat on one of them, she sat to your right and took your hands in hers, feeling her warm hands made you feel your eyes getting glossy again, she was comforting you and it made your heart warm.

“Oh, sweet girl, why do you keep suffering in silence?” The Sicilian witch asked you with a worried expression on her face, you didn’t dare to lift your face, keeping your eyes on the floor, too ashamed to look at her.

You felt a hand on your chin and Lilia lifted your face to look into your eyes.

“You don´t have to suffer alone, I know you don´t have magic, but that doesn´t mean you are not part of this coven, yes, it is a little messy coven, gathered on the last hour, but still a coven, and you are part of this coven, you trust in me, Alice and Jenn, I know all of us are wary of Agatha, but that doesn´t mean we feel the same towards you, you are nice, kind, and have such a pretty smile that can be contagious, I now you and Agatha are not together, and I know there is much more between you and her, I see you have a deep love for her, a love that is hurting you, so tell me, what´s going on?” Lilia spoke with such a soft tone that made you feel safe, the way she had referred to you as being part of the coven made you feel happy, you felt like you could trust in her, so you decided to do it and tell her how you had met Agatha and how you had slowly fell in love with her, Lilia never let go of your hands, caressing the back of your hands with so much delicacy that it made you feel warm on the inside.

“I still don´t know why she hates me so much, I don´t get it, I thought I would be able to make her like me at least, but she doesn´t even tolerate me, I know she doesn´t care, she always makes sure to say it out loud, but why does she have to be so mean? I know maybe I should not love her the way I do, not after everything she has done, but I cannot make myself stop the feeling, I love her and I hate the way loving her makes me feel” Lilia listened to you carefully, making sure not to interrupt you, she did not think Agatha did not care about you, she saw the way the blue-eyed witch had ran off towards you, she saw the desperate state Agatha had been when she saw you almost drowning in the mud, she saw the way she had hesitated to cut your skin, but hadn´t had any problem using the knife on the teen, Lilia was a very observant woman and was aware of how Agatha always looked at you and watched you carefully since all of you had arrived at the road.

She knew Agatha cared for you, deeply, but the way she treated you made you see the contrary and also made Lilia wondered the reason of her cold treatment towards you but the immense care she felt for you when you were not looking, Lilia was not dumb, and neither any of the other witches, even the teen noticed the way Agatha looked at you from time to time when she thought no one was looking, but her actions demonstrated the contrary, and the only one who could show you and let you know the truth to stop the pain you had in you was the same person who inflicted the pain on you, Agatha had to be the one to talk properly with you, but Lilia was not even sure if Agatha would do it, the purple witch was stubborn and sarcastic, and listened to no one but herself, so trying to talk to her would not even work.

“Listen dear, I´ve seen some things, I have lived for centuries, and I can assure you, Agatha just does not know how to express herself correctly, I am not making excuses for her, no, the way she treats you is not correct, and it makes me feel angry at her for causing pain to you, but I can also see she is in pain as well, I am not the one who needs to speak about what she feels, just give her some time, and take some time for you as well, I know it is really hard right now, because we have to help each other and we are constantly together, but take some time for you and for her, you can always come to me if you feel safe, even Alice, Jenn and the boy would be more than happy to help you and make sure you are fine, alright?” You nodded, not understanding completely everything she had said, but still having her listening to you and advising you made you feel content and kept your heart warm, she gave one last squeeze to your hands and you smiled softly at her.

“See? You have such a pretty smile, it hurts me to see you so sad sweetheart” You laughed softly and Lilia laughed as well, your smile and laugh was really contagious.

“Can I hug you?” You liked that Lilia had asked before and you quickly nodded, you really needed a hug right now, you felt her arms surrounding you and you did the same, her hug made you feel happy and kept your heart warm, Lilia was such a kind woman, with such a beautiful soul.

You heard some footsteps getting closer in a slow way, and Lilia and you separated slowly, you wiped your face again with the sleeve of your jacket and gave her another smile.

“Hey” You heard someone greeting in front of you, and turning your head to look at the owner of that voice you saw Alice walking slowly towards you, her hands stuck inside the pockets of her jacket, she was walking slowly while shuffling her feet against the leaves and dirt, she looked to the floor and then looked at you, trying not to intrude or make you feel uncomfortable, she came to stand in front of you and Lilia, noticing how Alice was moving her feet around the ground shily, and it made you chuckle slight.

“You can come sit here next to me” You patted the spot to your right and Lilia couldn´t help but smile at the interaction, Alice smiled widely and felt excited you had let her sit next to you, she took the spot right next to you making sure she did not cross any boundaries and making sure you were not uncomfortable, you noticed the way the protection witch was trying so hard not to make you feel distressed and it also warmed your heart, she even had made sure she was not touching you that much so you would not feel awkward and you smiled, you moved a little to get closer to her, your shoulders touching and Alice smiled widely at you.

“How are you?” The protection witch asked you softly and you pressed your head against her shoulder, Alice felt happy you were comfortable with her to do that, and it made her feel joyful, she really didn't like the way you seem so sad since she saw you at the mall, waiting slowly behind Agatha and the teen.

“I am feeling better, Lilia really knows how to cheer someone up” Lilia chuckled and Alice did the same, resting her head against yours, her hands still on her pockets.

Lilia pressed again her hand on your shoulder and brushed your arm slowly, comforting you, making you feel better. After some minutes had passed, you saw the teenager and Jenn walking slowly next to each other, when they saw you sitting between Alice and Lilia the smiled and started to walk a little bit faster.

The teen quickly came closer to you and took a seat on the ground in front of you, Jenn smiled at you as well and took the spot next to Lilia.

“Smiling fits you” The teen commented feeling happy you didn’t seem to be crying anymore.

“You have a really pretty smile, it makes me want to smile” Jenn said peaking her head to look at you, you seemed content and it made her feel really happy, it was a nice change, seeing you smile that way after only seeing you grimacing, confused or crying made her heart feel warm.

Agatha then appeared again, she was walking as elegant and confident as ever and when she saw you she felt happy, she felt happy seeing you smiling again, and being with the others who seemed to be supporting you made her feel happy for you, she still felt guilty but was not about to comment that, but what Agatha did not like was that you avoided looking at her while she explained they needed to summon another green witch.

All of you gathered around the spot where the area in which the ground changed colors, everyone had a flower in their hands and started to ask for the traits you wished for the new green witch you have.

You were almost at the end of the queue, Lilia to your right and Alice to your left, when your turn came, Lilia placed her hand in your back letting you know it was your turn to place the flower and wish for the trait.

“Please let the new green witch be kind”

Alice brushed her arm against you and nodded agreeing with you, Lilia gave another squeeze to your shoulder, while the teen and Jennifer smiled again at your wish.

Agatha was looking at you with a sad smile on her face, and a pang of guilty reached her heart, she had not been kind to you, what made her feel a little bit better, was the fact that the other witches have seemed to take a liking to you, she really hoped nothing happened to any of them because she wouldn´t know how you would react if you lost one of the witches who were kind enough to make sure you were alright, she feared for them and for you, a really strange feeling she was not used to.

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“Why are you so mean if you feel the same way she feels?” Rio who was asking Agatha from behind caressing her hair. Agatha quickly turned herself around to face Rio, how had she noticed? How had she figured it out? She tried to say something, something to prove that Rio was wrong, but she couldn’t, she knew she could not lie to Rio, the brown-eyed woman would notice right away, and she hated that.

Rio chuckled and proceeded to take Agatha’s hands in hers, she knew that Agatha was trying hard to ignore the feelings she had been having for you, the strong and deep love she actually had for you, the immense necessity to take care of you and make sure you were alright, Rio knew that in an attempt to try and bury her own feelings, Agatha had tried to have as much contact with her while all of you kept on walking down the road, Rio knew it very well and it was not fair for you nor her.

“I know why you suddenly want to be near me so much, and it’s not fair for her and neither for me and not even fair for you, you know it” Rio said while caressing the hands of the blue-eyed witch. Agatha started to feel guilty again and couldn’t deny that what Rio was saying was true, the brown-eyed woman knew her so well, but she wanted to make sure that Rio knew her feelings for her were not an act and she genuinely still felt love for her.

“I am not lying about the way I still feel about you” Agatha desperately said, squeezing the other woman’s hands.

Rio chuckled a little looking back at their hands intertwined and sighed deeply.

“I know, I know you still have those same feelings, we share the same feeling, but you know you are not being fair to her, I know you are saying the truth about us, but…”

Rio stopped to take a deep breath again and looked back to Agatha’s face.

“You keep denying what you feel about her and doing that and it is hurting not only her, it is also hurting you” Rio tried to get Agatha to realize how much pain she was inflicting not only to you.

“I also have to say that I don’t like the way you talk to her or treat her, she does not deserve to be treated like that Agatha, she doesn’t deserve to keep being on pain because you are too afraid of your own feelings” Rio commented again, sounding a little harsh, of course she hated seeing you in so much pain, not getting to see that beautiful smile of yours.

“I watched the two of you while you were under Wanda’s spell, you know? You treated her so beautiful, the way she deserved to be treated, I loved seeing when you came late to your house and y/n would wait for you, she always felt sleepy but she would always make sure to stay awake until you arrived, you would hug her and kiss her making her blush so much that she had to hide her face on your chest, you don’t know how happy she was…” Agatha remembered everything, she remembered doing all of that, but because of her fears and insecurities she tried to bury those memories, she was a little but surprised that Rio had watched the two of you, but she always had done something like that without her knowing.

“I really loved the way she has always listened so attentively to you, always listening to everything that you had to tell, I even feel jealous of her just giving all of her love and attention to you, I would love if she looked at me the way she does it when it comes to you” Rio said a little ashamed, feeling too exposed saying how she felt.

Agatha felt surprised listening to Rio’s confession and couldn’t help but feel a little bit jealous for the fact that she wanted you for her as well.

“Don’t worry, I’m not going to steal her from you” Rio winked at her playfully.

“I just, would like to keep talking with her and with you, after all this finishes, if you’d like”

Agatha liked the idea of getting to be with her and you, but now you were not even looking at her, not even meeting her gaze! You have been avoiding her since she had yelled at you.

“But she is not even looking at me anymore! She has finally realized the monster I am” Agatha couldn’t hide anymore how distressed she was feeling, the mere thought of you leaving her was making her heart break into pieces, Agatha threw herself at Rio hugging her and clinging to her clothes, sobbing hard against her chest.

“Since I entered that house in Westview, the one I took over to follow my plan, and she was there waiting for me inside what she thought was our home, she opened the door, and smiled at me with one of the most beautiful smiles I have seen ever, she was smiling at me, she called me love and said that she had made dinner for me, I knew right away she was under Wanda´s mind control, I just never thought Wanda would give me a fake wife you know, not that I minded at all” Agatha said with a soft smile even if the tears were still streaming down her face.

“I never minded her you know? Yes having her there was nice, I just thought that the way she treated me was because of Wanda´s mind control, because of the role she had been given to play, it was bad, I had started to fall slowly, it started with her usual greetings in the morning, always asking if I had a good sleep, or if I wanted something specific to eat in the morning, always waiting for me whenever I arrived late, so I decided to stop the feeling and release her from the spell, so she would leave the town, and leave me…” The blue-eyed witch was being sincere, something that was so hard to get her to do, so Rio only listened slowly to her while caressing her hair.

“I decided to just wake her up from the mind control so that she would not act like that anymore, my heart and mind could not stand the fact that I was falling for an act, I was falling for the pretty girl in my house, for the amazing and beautiful woman in my home, always attending to what I needed, always making sure I was alright, always trying to cheer me up and say how smart I was, I wanted for all of that to end because I couldn´t stand the idea of that not being real, I was going to let her go, my heart was shattering I was going to lose her, but I was not going to just stay there and fall for that, enjoying and feeling happy because of her while she was in pain as well, so I decided to wake her up one day when she was showing me what Wanda had gifted to her, she was happy, showing me the small glass piece shaped like a bunny, it was shaped like Mr.Scratchy, she was so happy she was saying that she was going to put it on our nightstand, and I couldn’t take it anymore, I quickly just placed my hand on her temple and then I just waited for the worst” Agatha recalled the way how she had waited for you to start asking where were you, who was she, and what had you been doing there, but what happened shocked her and she did not know if she had to feel relieved or even more scared.

“But the worst never came, she blinked several times, looked at her surroundings and then at the small piece of glass, then she looked at me with her beautiful eyes, there was no trace of fear nor confusion, she seemed relaxed, and you know what she said to me after that? She said thank you, I wanted to be able to move Agnes, would you let me keep Mr. Scratchy´s twin made out of glass?” Agatha chuckled bitterly, in that moment she realized you still were conscious, you remembered everything but did not seem to be angry nor agitated, you were relaxed, but she was not sure about the way you truly felt so she decided to once again, hide her true feelings.

“I just told her she owed me and she had a debt to pay to me, and you know what? She agreed happily, she said she would help me with whatever I needed that she was really happy there, with me! I thought she was only saying that because maybe she was scared and I thought that she would reveal her true self, her true feelings, that she would start acting different, but none of that happened, she still was there for me, waiting for me at night, making breakfast for the two of us, making sure I was fine, asking about anything, always praising every single thing I did, and even after every mean comment I said to her, she still stayed, I even hurt her once by accident! I threw her against the wall, I never got to say sorry, I did not even stay to check on her, I thought that day she would finally pack her things and leave, but she stayed, she has been staying all this time and I have only treated her like she is not worth anything to me, when she means the world to me, why can´t she just leave, yell or say something to me? I am a monster, even after every bad things I have done to her, she is still here” Agatha started to sob more, recalling every bad thing she had done to you made her think more and more you were not safe with her, Rio took her by her shoulders and made her look into her brown eyes.

“It is never late to say sorry, it is never late to finally let her know how you truly feel, if you want that girl to stay with you, and if you do not want to lose her nor let her go, with only an explanation, a sorry and telling her about your real feelings, she is going to understand everything, you have to stop inflicting pain in her and in you, can´t you see how much she loves you? The way she looks at you with such admiration, and I know, you showed her how you really felt during those three years you were under Wanda´s spell, or am I wrong?” The blue-eyed witch sighed and nodded slowly, there were times in which Agatha would be conscious from time to time, she would come to her senses and realized that everything was just Wanda´s magic making her believe and act in weird ways, but even during those short times, she still acted the same way towards you, taking advantage that you thought she was under the spell, it was a way in which she felt somehow safe, and she had every memory about those three years, the way you smiled when she hugged you, the way you blushed when she complimented you, for her it had been real, and she loved all the time she got to spend with you, but her pride, insecurities and fears made her act the same awful way towards you when she was released completely, and she hated herself for that.

“I know you think you don´t deserve her, that you don´t deserve her love, but you do, but if you do not let her know the real you and your real feelings, you are risking everything you can have with her, Agatha if you do not talk to her, she is going to leave, and I don´t want to lose her neither, I know you love her the same, but if you do not let her know that, how is she going to know your true feelings? If you keep acting that way towards her you would only keep ruining your life and hers, do you understand that? I know you are scared of something happening to her, but you have to show her you care, you have to show her how much you truly love her, she needs you to reaffirm and confirm all of that” Rio was speaking in a soft way, her soft voice explaining everything to Agatha who always was a mess when it came to feelings, Rio wanted to stop the suffering you and Agatha were passing through.

“Love doesn´t have to make you suffer” Rio said with a smile on her face.

“I saw the two of you during all these three years, and I saw the love you two share, I know it´s easy for you to hide your feelings, but it is hurting you more and her, you may have been under Wanda´s spell, but I know that way was easier for you to show how you truly felt, you should really talk to her and say everything to her just as you did with me, or would you like me to talk to her?” The way Rio was asking the last question made Agatha realized that this other woman also cared for you and she cared for her as well, if she could mend everything with her and you at the same time, she would be more than happy, Agatha was aware she had to be the one to talk to you and explain everything to you, she needed to do that for you, so she shook her head slowly.

“I want to talk to her, and explain everything, but, what if she doesn´t believe me and decides to leave?” Her biggest fear was you abandoning her and she was sure she would not be able to stand it, Rio chuckled slightly, how could Agatha really not see the immense love you had for her?

“She is not going to leave, she only needs to hear what you just told me, and be honest, completely honest, no more lies, no more acts, alright?” Agatha understood and felt a wave of excitement, she wanted to mend things with you, and was grateful for Rio being there to help her, the blue-eyed witch hugged the other woman and sighed deeply.

“No more lies” Agatha repeated against Rio´s chest.

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Agatha tried to get near you to have a proper talk with you, but it seemed like you were ignoring her, it was as if you did not want to talk to her, you were not even looking at her when she spoke or was asked something, the blue-eyed witch felt desperate and every time she tried to get closer to you, you always seemed to get to the other side or get to talk with the teen or with any of the other witches but her, any time that would happen she would turn to look at Rio to lift her hands and point at you to make her see you did not want to talk to her, Rio would always place her hands in the air and slowly move them downwards as a way of reminding Agatha to calm herself down and not push things too much.

Agatha was in a rush to get to talk to you properly, she felt the need to explain everything to you and tell you her true feelings but you were pushing her away, she couldn´t help but feel desperate.

You wanted to give Agatha time to calm herself, because you still thought she was annoyed, so whenever you noticed she was near you, you decided to give her some space, not knowing what she actually wanted to do, Rio wanted to interfere and get the two of you together so you would have the chance to properly speak, but right where she was about to step up and get the two of you to talk, another house appeared in front of them, and given Alice´s reactions, it was clear the next trial was hers, so all of you entered to the house, getting ready for whatever would come.

Agatha went to talk to you when she noticed the teen and you were around the piano with Alice, the three of you were laughing while Alice told you the different keys of the huge instrument.

“I would have loved to learn how to play piano or any type of instrument when I was a kid, but my parents actually didn’t care about what I liked, I remember I liked to draw with crayons and pencil colors but when I asked them to buy me some coloring books or some pencils they would always tell me it was a waste of money and time, then I just grew up and kind of lost interest in certain things” You said while touching softly the keys just softly enough to feel the cold keys without pressing hard into them to make them sound, you had not seen the way Alice and the teen shared a sad look.

“I can teach you to play when we get out of this” Alice commented while looking at you with a big smile on her face, her heart ache for you.

“That would be awesome isn’t it awesome? You can also come to my place and I can show you everything I have, I’m pretty sure you are going to like my movie collection, remember you told me you loved watching movies” The teen said after he listened to Alice’s offer, he wanted to make sure you knew that after all this finished, and all of you completed everything you still would have friends with you.

Your heart couldn’t be filled with so much more love, it felt nice to be wanted to share things with people you liked, it was nice to be felt included, it was amazing to feel wanted and cared enough for people to invite you to do things with them.

Agatha slowly got closer to you and cleared her throat not to scare you.

“Hey can you-“ She had not even finished her sentence when you quickly turned around and started to walk away.

“Yeah, I will make sure not to get in your way” You said out loud and walked towards the corner of the room leaving Agatha shocked and with her mouth open.

“That’s not what I meant” Agatha said softly looking at Alice and the teen, they didn’t say anything and then Rio appeared behind Agatha brushing her shoulders softly.

“Can you tell y/n that she doesn’t have to actually do anything? I don’t want her to get hurt” Agatha told her not minding if Alice and the teen heard what she was saying, the pair only looked at each other confused.

“Will do, don’t worry, go prepare yourself to show off, she likes your clothes by the way, she was looking at you through the mirror” Rio winked at her and walked off to meet you, her last comment made Agatha smile and took a look at her clothes.

“You know she only wants to make sure you’re safe, right?” You heard Rio talking behind you and you decided to turn yourself around to face her, taking a look at the witches in the middle of the room, Agatha was making sure the microphone was to her level, making you smile slightly.

“Sometimes it doesn’t feel like that” You replied to her looking at the floor, she shook her head and slowly put her hand on your chin, lifting your face to look thoroughly your expression.

“Agatha is a complicated woman, I used to be with her, and she has always been like this, it’s her own way to cope with things, I know it’s not the best way, but if you let her explain herself, everything will make sense, alright?” The woman in front of you sounded sincere, and the way she caressed the skin on your face comforted you in the same way Agatha had made you feel when she was under Wanda’s spell.

You leant into her touch, enjoying the feeling she was providing you; you closed your eyes enjoying the moment.

“You are so beautiful” Rio said in a whisper, you opened your eyes to look at her, feeling your face getting warmer.

“Thank you, you are really beautiful as well” Rio smiled at you making your heart leap.

You could have sworn you have seen her before, but you were not sure where or if it was possible.

“I know you love flowers; it is amazing how you care for the garden you have on Agatha’s garden, making sure they are always watered”

You were surprised, how did she even know that?

“I know it’s weird, but I hope this doesn’t scare you off, but I’ve been looking after you and Agatha, well, maybe a little bit more after you, Agatha has been having you looking after her during these past three years, I wanted to make sure you were also fine, we both know Agatha can take care of herself but is never that bad to make sure she’s fine like you have been doing, right?” Rio took your hand in hers and brought your hand to her lips to press a soft kiss to your knuckles, making you nervous.

“Careful Agatha, she��s stealing your wife” Jenn commented loud enough for her to be the only one to hear, Agatha pursed her lips together and sent you a look.

Rio was talking to you in the corner of the room, she was playing with your hair and you were playfully pushing her hand away, the two of you were laughing and even if the brown-eyed woman and her had already talked about what they wanted, which was the same thing, or the same person in this case, she couldn’t help but feel jealous, you had just met Rio hours ago and there you were touching her playfully?

What made her feel more jealous was when she saw the way Rio gave you one of the flowers hanging around her hair and gave it you, you didn’t think twice to take it in your hands.

“Rio, care to join us? We have to hurry” Agatha called out loud with her hands pointing at the instruments.

Rio winked at you and brushed slowly her hand on your hand.

“We can keep talking later love” The pet-name had made you blush and you only nodded trying to hide your smile while caressing slowly the petals of the flower Rio had given to you.

Rio came towards all of the other witches who already had an instrument in their hands and Agatha quickly took Rio’s shoulder, stopping her from walking past her.

“I told you to only let her know to stay away, not to go and flirt shamelessly with her in front of us” Agatha hissed to her, trying not to yell and Rio couldn’t help but laugh.

“Calm down, we already talked, we have to make her feel safe, that’s what I’m doing” Rio tried to reason with the blue-eyed witch.

“She’s is not only yours” Agatha said again warning the brown-eyed woman.

“Then we better hurry so you can let her know you want her to be yours as well, right?” Rio replied back with her eyes wide opened and a big smile on her face, Agatha only sighed and let her walk towards her instrument.

｡˚ ︶︶✩︶︶‌ ₊ ˚ ︶︶✩

It happened so fast that you didn’t even get the chance to cover your face or turned around, but it was too late, the next thing you knew you were being carried and you felt the hot and thick liquid coming out from several parts of your body, and the different cuts all over your face made you feel more pain.

All they had heard was the sound of something about to crack, and after they had the chance to do something the glass in front of you shattered into millions of pieces, everyone out of instinct covered themselves but when Agatha realized you had been the one too close to the glass her heart started to beat faster, turning around quickly she saw you were about to fall to the floor completely unconscious, so she ran as fast as she could catching you in the process.

“Please we need to help her, she’s bleeding so much” Agatha screamed completely terrified, she had tried to protect you and she hadn’t even been able to do that.

Yes, they had passed the trial, but that didn’t make them feel happy nor excited, everyone was completely worried about you but the way Agatha seemed to be so desperate trying to stop the bleeding and the tears falling from her face showed how scared she was.

Agatha was passing her hand through her hair nervously not knowing what to do, she felt useless, completely useless.

“Please we have to do something, she’s not responding!” Agatha yelled completely desperate looking at the other witches.

They placed you on the floor carefully, Agatha quickly started to look for any more wounds and when she saw a big spot of blood that had formed on you abdomen it made her cry harder, she carefully lifted the shirt to see the wound and what she saw made her gasp as well as the other witches who were looking horrified the scene in front of them.

“Let me try something” Jenn quickly made something with the water on the little pools on the floor, and started to say something in Latin, Agatha was trembling with fear, without her powers she was not even able to heal you.

Rio came to stand next to her to take her hand in hers to give her some kind of comfort, the brown-eyed woman was trying really hard not to shed any tears, trying to be strong for Agatha.

The teen had his hands in his head, not wanting to look at the amount of blood coming from you, he was so scared for you and started to walk in circles due to his nervousness.

Jenn came back to your body and kneeled to try and pour the water onto your wound, she carefully removed the big piece of glass stuck in your skin and Agatha couldn’t stand the sight, her eyes were completely red, her hands shaking out of fear.

“There is so much blood! Are you sure that’s going to help?!” Alice suddenly asked not sure if she should get closer or give you space, Lilia had kneeled next to you, caressing your hair and with tears in her eyes.

Agatha hoped that whatever Jen was pouring into your wound would stop the bleeding but even after the water was poured completely on you, the blood didn’t stop from coming out of the wound in your stomach.

“It’s not working! Jen why is not working!?” Agatha yelled scared and confused, she kneeled down as well trying to see if maybe her powers were back, but they had not come back to her.

“Damn it!” The blue-eyed woman didn’t know what to do, she had wanted to apply pressure into your wound but was afraid of making everything worse, she didn’t know what to do for once in her life.

“We have to do something, she’s still bleeding!” The teen came running towards you.

“Agatha, we have to do something if we don’t stop the bleeding she will die!” Everyone felt a pang of fear and pain when they heard the teen saying that.

“No, no she won’t die!” Agatha took your face into her hands, softly caressing the spots that were free off any wounds.

All of the witches were crying at this point, how could it be possible that out of all of them you had been the one to get hurt?

“Please doll, you can’t die, you can’t leave me, I don’t want you to leave, I love you, we still haven’t talked! I still have to let you know everything, I love you please you can’t leave me” The way Agatha was talking to you and pleading for you not to leave her was a shattering their hearts.

Rio couldn’t stand the sight, you were in fact dying, she removed slowly from Agatha and the blue-eyed witch panicked.

“No, no, no please, don’t take her, it’s not fair! Please I beg you not to take her, please my love you can’t take her” Rio’s heart was breaking into millions of pieces, the way Agatha was suffering, the way she would suffer even more if you died, the way Rio would also suffer from your loss, everyone here would suffer horribly if you died, Rio knew it was not fair, it was not fair that you had to die like that, an innocent, Rio knew she had a job, her job was sacred, but would she be able to break the rules for you and Agatha? She hadn’t got the time to speak properly with you, to show you how she truly cared about you, all these years looking after Agatha and you had made her fall for you as well, the way your smile was so sweet and contagious, the way you would always try to hide your face when you were feeling nervous, she couldn’t bring herself to take you with her and never see you again.

The other witches were completely confused, why was Agatha pleading to her not to take you? They were not understanding until Rio’s face showed for a second her true image making everyone gasp in fear.

“I can’t interfere Agatha, I am the natural order, I should never stop the natural order of things” Rio’s voice was deep, and Agatha’s sobs were becoming louder.

“Why is it always an innocent the one which has to pay for the bad things?” Lilia asked out loud caressing softly your hair making sure not to hurt you more.

Rio slowly pressed her hand on the deep wound on your stomach and when she took her hand off, the blood had stopped coming, the gash on your skin was not there anymore, and your breathing became normal.

“You saved her” Agatha’s eyes were full of tears, the hot streams of tears still falling down her face, but at the sight of your abdomen with no more blood coming and with no trace of the wound, she finally felt she could breathe, Rio only nodded and quickly wiped the single tear that had fallen down her face.

“I couldn’t bring myself to hurt the two women I love” She whispered.

“I will make sure nothing ever happens to her, right now we have to make sure she rests for a while, I can take care of the other small wounds that she has all over her face and hands, we have to move her to a place where she can rest” Everyone nodded when Rio finished talking, and Agatha and her made sure to take carefully your body to carry you on their arms.

The teen who has the first to compose himself to make himself useful started to gather as many leaves as he could, he started to take many with him from the ground, Alice who quickly understood what he was doing started to do the same.

“Where are you going to put her?” The teen asked when he came next to Agatha and Rio who had you in their arms.

“Over there, thank you” Rio said calmly, she knew you were safe.

Alice and the teen gathered as many leaves as they could and put them where Rio had pointed at, in a spot where the path had some different flowers and a tall tree in the middle, Alice and the teen made sure the leaves they had collected were enough and made sure if was comfortable enough, Agatha and Rio placed you on there carefully, making sure they would not hurt you more.

After they placed you on the leaves Agatha stood up and quickly took her coat off, placing it over your body and making sure you were covered, Lilia came walking to stand next to the two witches and did the same as Agatha, she carefully took her sweater off and kneeled next to you to place it over your body, making sure the two pieces of clothes that belonged to her and Agatha were covering you fully, Agatha felt very touched seeing how everyone also cared about you, and she reminded herself to thank them for that.

Alice noticed the way your head was placed in a weird way so she took her jacket off and moved closer to you, folding her jacket carefully to shape it like a pillow, but noticed the way the zipper had not been carefully hidden so it would not hurt you, Jenn came next to her.

“Let me try” Jenn stretched her hands out and Alice handed the jacket to her, Jennifer carefully folded in a way the zipper would not hurt your head, and handed it back to Alice, the protection witch carefully kneeled and Rio did the same, the green witch lifted your head slowly and Alice placed her folded jacket under your head, finally your head was not in a strange position and you seemed to be comfortable enough.

“Thank you” Agatha said looking at the witches that stood in front of you.

“Thank you for taking care of her, for making sure she´s alright, I will always be in debt with you” Agatha said again with tears forming in her eyes again.

All of the witches were surprised because this had been the first time, they were seeing Agatha being vulnerable.

“We didn´t do anything” Jenn said while looking at you, she still felt bad for not being able to actually do something to heal you.

“Your potion didn´t work, because she was not supposed to be healed, it was not you, your potion worked perfectly fine, you saved Sharon, but this was something different” Agatha said looking at Jenn straight into her eyes and then the blue eyed-witch turned her head to look at Rio, giving her a smile, Rio smiled back at her, knowing exactly that what Agatha had said was true, the potion´s witch was not able to heal you because you were not supposed to be saved.

“I mean, thank you for being with her, I know you may not have known her that much, but seeing you making sure she was fine and letting her walk next to you when she did not want to be near me, make me feel relieved that at least she had someone looking after her” Agatha said sincerely.

“That girl is a gift, a wonderful young woman who deserves every single good thing, and we are going to be with her until we can and until life allows us to” Lilia said with a soft tone all while looking at Rio, Rio nodded at her softly, as a way of thanking her.

“We will leave you to take care of her, we are sure you have too many things to talk about and talk to her when she wakes up, we will be waiting for you to come back with her, alright?” Lilia commented again and Alice, Jenn and the teen nodded, the Sicilian witch was right, they needed to leave the three of you alone and give you time to talk, Alice and the teen were the first ones to start walking back to the spot where the door had been, the two of them smiled at Rio and Agatha, Jenn was the second to leave, sighing deeply and Lilia stopped next to Agatha to grab her hand in hers.

“Make sure she recovers well, and Agatha please stop making her suffer, I know you are suffering as well, so I hope when she wakes up, you will talk to he properly and I hope you say sorry to her” Lilia was looking straight at the blue-eyed witch and Agatha nodded.

“I will do it, thank you for talking to her, she seemed more relaxed after your talk, so I am really grateful for that” Lillia´s face softened and she patted Agatha´s shoulder, she knew Agatha would do the right thing, so she left to join the rest of the coven where they had left, leaving Agatha and Rio standing next to each other.

Rio took Agatha´s hand in hers and the two of them sat net to you on the ground, the blue-eyed witch took your hand in hers caressing the back of your hand and Rio caressed your forehead softly, healing the wounds you had and making sure they all disappeared.

They were not sure how much time had passed but they felt you started to move slowly and Rio and Agatha quickly went to help you to sit down on the spot you had been placed.

“How are you feeling doll?” Agatha asked you while she quickly went to grab your face with her hands, there was no trace of blood nor any wounds on your beautiful place, and she felt relieved that you seemed to be relaxed and not in pain, seeing you with your eyes opened was the most beautiful thing, she had been so scared to lose you, she would never forget how much she had feared for your life, she would go absolutely mad if she lost you for real.

Your first reaction was to blink several times, were you dreaming? Why did Agatha look so worried? And most important why was she touching your face with so much softness? Rio noticed your confused expression and giggled gently, she came to sit next to you, her shoulder touching yours and one of her hands went to hugged you by your waist, making you feel your face getting warmer.

Agatha couldn´t help herself and quickly leant to pressed a soft and quick kiss to your lips, it had been so out of nowhere and of course you had not expected her to do that, but it made your heart beat so fast, that it made you afraid it was going to get out of your ribcage with the force it was beating.

“You almost died, I almost lost you, we almost lost you darling!” Agatha´s eyes started to fill with tears again, the memory making her body tremble again and of course you worried, you took her hands from your face and brought them to your chest.

“But I am here” You said softly trying to give her some comfort.

Agatha and Rio couldn´t believe how sweet you were, you were trying to comfort the blue-eyed witch even though you had just passed through something as traumatic as almost dying.

Agatha chuckled softly and brought your hands to her lips, giving a kiss to the back of your hands, and placing them close to her face to feel the warmth emanating from your soft hands, she was so happy to know you were fine, to know you were there alive and that she was able to feel you.

“I am so happy that you´re here, and it is because of Rio, she saved you, she was the only one who was able to heal you and made you stay here with us, oh love, there was so much blood, seeing you with your eyes completely closed and not responding almost made my heart stop, I was not able to do anything, I don´t have powers, I was not able to protect you, I was so scared since the moment I heard you were coming with us, I didn´t want that anything happened to you, I tried to protect you and none of it worked, you ended up getting hurt” Agatha was crying, the tears were falling from her face and you quickly wiped the tears of her face, you hugged her and she returned the hug, her arms embraced your waist softly and Rio´s hand started to caress your back up and down.

After some minutes that you were sure Agatha had calmed down a little you separated yourself from her and looked straight into her eyes.

“It´s alright Agatha, I really appreciate that you are being finally honest with me, that you let me see this part of you, that you are letting me see the real you, I love you, and I have loved you since I started to share my life with you playing your “wife”” Agatha felt her face getting warmer and you laughed at her blushing face, Agatha really liked when it was mentioned you were her “wife” she had in mind to actually get you to be her real wife but first she wanted to mend things and pass more time with you before finally popping the question, she also was aware of the fact that Rio would start passing more and more time with you and her, so she wanted to talk properly about that with the brown-eyed witch.

“I love you so much as well, everything I have done, every lie I have told you, every mean action and comment I have done to you has been awful, I will never forgive myself for al the time I have treated you like that, I am so sorry for yelling at you, you didn´t deserve any of that, you deserve to have everything, to be treated like a queen, because that is what you are to me, please I hope you can forgive for what I have done, I don´t want to lose you, I want you to stay with me, because I love you, I know there is no excuse for everything I made you pass through, but I was scared, I was scared of my own feelings, every time I looked at you and the way you always smile, it made me fear and doubt my own feelings, you made me feel what I had not felt in centuries, and I was scared to actually face my true feelings towards you, but please, if you give me a chance I will make it up to you, I will never hurt you again” You were so touched by her words, she was being honest, and the best part was that she returned your feelings, this day could not be better, the woman you had fallen for was saying to you that she also loved you!

You had started to cry and felt another hand caressing you back as well, you gave another soft kiss to Agatha and smiled at her after separating a little from her.

“Thank you, Agatha, you really make me happy, I forgive you for everything I really love you so deeply, and I don´t hold any type of grudges against you, it makes me happy to know you feel the same way I do, so of course I will stay with you, I am not going anywhere” Agatha had a huge smile on her face, her heart was full of love for you, and she would make sure this time she show you how she truly felt about you.

You slowly turned your face to look at Rio and saw the loving expression she had on your face, Agatha patted you softly and pushed you gently to turn yourself around to face Rio.

The brown-eyed witch took your hands in hers and started to caress the palm of your hands, tickling you a little.

“Thank you, Rio, for saving my life, I will always have a debt with you, how can I show you how grateful I am?” You said to her with a soft tone, giving her a big smile and feeling your heart leaping, Rio looked at you without saying anything for a couple of minutes, her right hand with her long black fingernails came to your face to caress your cheek and then she placed her hand on your neck, caressing your skin slowly.

“If you give me as many kisses for as long as I live, you will never own me anything” Rio responded with a flirty tone, her eyes watching your lips for a second.

“Don´t worry about Agatha, we already talked, she is not the only one who will have you all to herself” Rio winked at you and Agatha rolled her eyes playfully, of course she would say something like that.

“You can start paying me now” Rio whispered, her face getting closer to you, you leant into her and pressed your lips on hers, it started as nice gentle kiss and Rio took the opportunity to deepen the kiss, Agatha noticed that and pursed her lips a little, did she really have to do it now that you were having a deep talk with them? Deep down she felt a little bit jealous, she had also wanted to kiss you like that.

“Hey, hey, that´s too much, c´mon ladies” Agatha said out loud and you separated yourself slowly from Rio´s lips, your face completely red, Rio had a satisfied look on her face, the brown-eyed witch looked at Agatha and on purpose licked her lips, making Agatha shook her head.

The blue-eyed witch got closer to you, sitting right behind you, she passed her arms around your waist pulling you closer to her and pressing her chin on your shoulder after giving a soft kiss to your temple, feeling content for having you there with her, Rio took your hands again in hers and gave them a squeeze, she also couldn’t hide how happy she was feeling, after all, she was finally able to touch you and look at you closer, it had been what she had wanted to do during those three years of only watching you from afar.

You were happy, you not only had the woman whom you had fallen in love first hugging you with her strong grip around you, listening to her breathing, you also had an amazing woman in front of you who also took your breath away, her flirty nature made her so confident, apart from the fact that she was as beautiful as Agatha and had a deadly stare, you felt happy, even if you almost died, everything had been worth it, you didn’t feel as if loving her was ruining your life anymore, it was making you feel finally complete, you felt loved and that was what mattered, not only you had two women who cared for you romantically, but you also finally had found your coven even if you were not a witch, they had treated you like if you had been really important to them, and couldn´t wait to see them again to thank them for that.

Agatha knew Rio had been right, love didn’t have to make any one of you suffer, not even her, and was grateful that Rio had made her re-think what she was doing, thanks to her, she was right there, hugging you, feeling you close, and Agatha couldn´t be happier, she knew she would have time to spend it with you and also with Rio of course, nothing would take her happiness away, and she would make sure to protect you for real and always have you close to her.

Rio was happy, more than happy, she wouldn´t let anything happen to you, and of course would make sure Agatha would be fine, she would make sure to have an eye on you, and would make sure that Agatha didn´t repeat the same mistakes, Rio wouldn´t let that anything happen to you, she would still have to explain to you why sometimes she had to disappear from time to time, and would explain to you who she really was, she would make sure not to scare you, she know it was something really important to talk about, but right now, she felt content, caressing your hair and putting flowers to decorate your beautiful hair, many different back flowers were adorning your soft hair, Rio was making sure that they would not fall, she was going to enjoy you as much as she could right now, she would have more time to speak properly to you later, right now, she knew she had to make sure nothing happen to any of you to get you safe and out of this place.

#agatha harkness #agatha harkness imagine #agatha harkness x reader #agatha harkness x fem!reader #mcu imagine #mcu x reader #agatha all along #agatha x reader #agatha harkness x you #rio x agatha #rio vidal x reader #agatha harkness x rio vidal #rio vidal #agatha x rio #rio vidal x y/n #rio vidal x agatha harkness

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andavs · 1 month ago

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I’m just going to vent about the Eddie and Chris storyline real quick:

So the show’s kind of treating it as if Eddie was a neglectful parent and his parents had to take his son away until he could prove he could be a father. But to make that happen they’re writing Chris as if he’s an oblivious seven year old who just wanted to be with his dad all along and didn’t understand why he was gone??

The whole reason they're in Texas is because Chris took off and iced Eddie out for months, and we still don’t know why he stayed away! Or why he let his dad completely uproot his life to follow him when he apparently wasn't having that great a time anyway. Eddie told him he was giving up his job and their home to buy a house and move to Texas, and Chris presumably said, “Yeah, cool, see you when you get here.”

Chris is old enough to know that’s a huge deal!

So does he genuinely like living in Texas? Does he want to be close to his grandparents, and his dad being there now is the cherry on top of his ideal life? Is he avoiding their house in LA because of Kim? Did he just not know how to admit that he wanted to come home and now it’s all snowballed so much that he doesn’t know how to bring it up?

Like where is he at right now? Why don’t we know what’s going on in his head? Why is the fact that he hates chess the only thing he’s said for himself?

The way they’ve written this storyline, I don’t think a single line of dialogue would have to change if he were still seven because he barely got a say in anything. It was all handled between the adults and he was just along for the ride.

I know it was a different showrunner, and Maddie and Chimney were gone so they had more time to fill, but we got to see so much of what Harry went through after he was kidnapped in 5a. We got to see the messy emotions and the confusion and internal conflicts about who to be mad at and who to blame. And we got to see it through Harry's eyes and in his own words, not Athena’s.

Gavin's availability is different, yeah, but I feel like we could've gotten a scene or two of him alone or with his grandparents where we see what he’s actually feeling about everything. If there’s friction, then show the friction. Show him backing down because he doesn’t want to upset them, or show him wanting to call his dad to leave but he can’t quite do it. Show whatever his grandparents said to him to make him believe his dad—who’s always loved him and made sure Chris knew that—suddenly doesn’t want to be his dad anymore?? In just a few months??

Like…I know Chris is fourteen, and the responsibility for all of this lands on Eddie as the adult and the parent. But he’s been reading cues from Chris that he doesn’t want his dad there. And Chris didn’t decide to come home, Eddie had to uproot his entire life to go get him. So why won’t they show us what’s going on in Chris’ head? Is he going to learn anything through this experience, or does this whole saga only exist for Eddie to relearn everything he already knew before Kim showed up?

And for fuck’s sake, even if Tim absolutely cannot bring himself to acknowledge the existence of Kim, at least acknowledge Shannon!

Since they started s7 with Chris talking about how much it hurt that she left them, I was hoping they’d bring that back and he’d say something like he didn’t know how to admit he wanted to come home—just like his mom. Really lean into that very obvious parallel that’s just sitting there. Have Eddie explain more of what happened back then so Chris can understand that she didn’t leave because she didn’t love him, because he still loves his dad even though he needed space, but because she had her own messy emotional shit going on just like he does. And maybe Eddie could realize that too through talking to Chris about it.

Maybe they could have a conversation about how neither of them handled the situation very well, and they need to always be talking to each other because they’re a team and they always have been. Talking openly has always been one of their strengths. Because this wasn’t just Eddie’s actions driving this storyline, Chris was half of it. Chris is a main character and should be getting some development out of this too, but right now he’s more like a trophy Eddie wins back through completing tasks than a full character with thoughts and feelings of his own.

Anyway, I’m annoyed that this has dragged on for a year and has only managed to superficially fix problems that didn’t exist before this long-ass storyline started.

Yeah, I know they could address any of this before the season's over, but it's been a fucking year. Look alive, Tim!

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crheativity · 7 months ago

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Hello! I saw your writing about track club members, spell drive members, basketball members getting kissed on the cheek after playing a game, so could I request the same, but after a show for the pop music club people?

SUMMARY: After a successful club meet, you give them a kiss on the cheek! How do they react?

WARNINGS: Might be slightly out of character (particularly Kalim and Cater) but I have Opinions about those two. Also, Sebek yells at you.

COMMENTS: Hey! Sorry this took me a while to get to hehe. I love this idea! I don’t write for these characters enough hehe. Also, hope you don’t mind but I added the Equestrian club too because I felt like it :) If you'd like to read part 1 with the track club, spell drive club and basketball club members, click here.

This could go a couple different ways, depending on the setting. On the one hand, he’s ecstatic that you kissed him! That means you like him, right? On the other hand, you just kissed him. His heart is pounding and he wants to hide in his room, especially if others saw it. He likes you a lot, but a kiss implies a whole lot of things he isn’t fully certain he’s ready for. If you look for him afterwards - after the kiss, the people have all gone, hiding in his room - he might just show you a new side to himself. A new reflection of the diamond - one that’s imperfect, but dedicated to you.

Ohhh wow, you just kissed him, huh? He’s been kissed by his family and stuff before but this feels… different. In a good way! He’s never kissed a homie before, he wonders if it’s a cultural thing where you’re from. Definitely unrelated but this adrenaline from the show is lasting much longer than anticipated. It was fading after the show, but now it’s back, haha. He wonders why? Maybe he’ll go talk to Jamil about it. Although, maybe - if it’s not insensitive or something - you could give him another kiss first?

Awwh, aren’t you a cutie! Fufufu, he might just have to sneak you into more of his shows from now on! Lilia is thoroughly delighted and amused. It’s so adorably sweet that you thought to kiss him - exactly why he likes you! He’s another one that would demand your presence for every concert he performs in from now on. Often before you find him after the show, he’ll tap you on the shoulder and kiss you on the cheek before you can kiss him. He vanishes into the crowd again afterwards though - a little game of hide and seek never hurt anyone, right~?

WHAT. What did you just do-?! That was a rhetorical question, he knows what you just did, but- but wHY. His mind is racing, trying to figure out why you’d do such a thing, if it was against the rules, if there was a way he was “supposed” to react. But that’s very hard to do when his stupid brain keeps replaying the- the action in his head repeatedly. Congratulations, you’ve broken him. All he knows now is that he really wants you to come to the next meet, and the next, until you both graduate. Good luck getting him to admit that or tell you when they are, though!

He is now wide awake. Externally, he looks relatively composed, but internally he’s going ??? Did he dream that??? Was that real or fake? Gosh, he hopes it was real. He’s extra kind to you for the rest of the day, but as soon as he’s back at Diasomnia he’s asking Lilia if that really happened. Lilia is in astonishment that his son can’t remember if you actually kissed him, but the idea that Silver likes you so much that he can’t tell if a kiss from you is a perfect dream or a shocking reality is adorable to him! He’s setting you two up now. Be prepared for more Lilia (and Silver) in your life.

He is CAUSING a SCENE. That has to be against some kind of rule! He’s certain you’re trying to distract him from his training, or— or from protecting Malleus! Yes! That must be it! You are a HAZARD to the cause— why are you grinning. THIS ISN’T FUNNY. HE IS NOT BLUSHING. HE IS ANGRY. (you can absolutely tell the difference, he’s bright pink). Sebek is convinced you’re causing a scene - but he’s the one who stopped in the middle of the celebration just to yell at you. Everyone there thinks it’s really funny (barring Riddle who’s just about done with this whole scenario and Silver who fell asleep).

♥Thank you for reading!! I hope you enjoyed it!!♥

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daeniradraconis · 2 months ago

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Unexpected Overtime - Q. Hughes

Hey Lovelies! 💖

Sooo, here’s Quinn’s story in The Hughes Effect Saga. You can read this one on its own, but trust me—it’ll make way more sense if you check out Luke & Jack’s stories first!

I LOVED writing this one, but ngl, I also kinda hated it —I just wasn’t sure if I fully nailed Quinn’s personality. But hey, I gave it my best shot, and I really hope you enjoy it! Summary: Quinn Hughes is injured, spiralling, and sinking into a darkness he can’t escape. But the worst part? He’s in love with his best friend—and he doesn’t even realize it yet.

Warnings: Mention of rape! I included Olivia & their past relationship in the story, but it’s pure fiction! I don’t know anything about what actually happened, so this is just my imagination running wild. Also, this story is 18+ because... well, the ending speaks for itself. 🔥

Happy reading! For more fun: masterlist

--- Being friends with Quinn Hughes was a test of patience, persistence, and an alarming amount of forced conversations.

Blanca still remembered the first time they met—at Brock Boeser's girlfriend Bella's birthday party. She and Bella had hit it off months earlier in a Pilates class, bonding over their shared love of overpriced smoothies and their mutual inability to take life too seriously. Through Bella, she met Brock a couple of times, but the rest of the team? Completely new territory.

She felt like an outsider, and that annoyed the hell out of her. But in hindsight, maybe it was the luckiest thing of the night, because Quinn Hughes felt the same way.

Unlike the other guys, who were comfortable and relaxed, Quinn hovered near the edge of the party, practically trying to blend into the wallpaper. He was the team’s rookie, still adjusting, still figuring out his place. Awkward and reserved, he kept attempting to join conversations but never quite sank into them. Every now and then, he’d let out a short laugh at something one of the guys said, but Blanca could tell it wasn’t real—just a filler response to keep people from noticing how uncomfortable he felt.

It was written all over his face. What the hell am I doing here?

He looked like he wanted to bolt.

Blanca knew that feeling all too well. And she hated standing alone and awkward. So, she did what she thought was her best option for the night—she forced her presence on Quinn Hughes.

Without hesitation, she plopped down next to him on the couch, drink in hand.

"You have the face of a man plotting his escape," she noted, taking a sip.

Quinn blinked. “Huh?”

“I mean, unless this is just your natural resting broody face, in which case—my bad.”

For a second, he just stared at her. Then, to her surprise, he let out a short laugh. “I don’t brood.”

"Mmm, debatable. The way you're sitting here all tense, barely talking to anyone, looking like you're regretting every life choice that led you to this exact moment? Kinda broody."

Quinn shook his head, amused. "I'm just… not really a party guy."

"Not shocking," Blanca teased. "You seem more like a ‘watch highlights and stress about the next game’ kind of guy."

His eyebrows lifted. "You got that from watching me sit here for five minutes?"

She grinned. "I'm very observant. Also, you're wearing your stress on your face, buddy."

Quinn exhaled through his nose, shaking his head again, but the tension in his shoulders eased just slightly. Blanca took that as a win.

"So, how do you know Bella?" he asked after a beat.

"Pilates class. We bonded over our shared suffering."

Quinn gave her a skeptical look. "You willingly do Pilates?"

"Listen, don't judge me. I like pain."

He smirked. "That explains why you're talking to me."

Blanca gasped dramatically. "Oh my god, you do have a sense of humor. I was worried."

Quinn chuckled, shaking his head again. "You're a lot."

"And yet, you haven't told me to go away."

He didn't have an answer for that—just took a sip of his drink, the ghost of a smile lingering on his lips. Blanca knew then that she had cracked something, even if just slightly.

By the end of the night, she had done most of the talking while Quinn just sat there, listening, watching, occasionally throwing in a sarcastic remark that only encouraged her more. She found him difficult—hard to read, stubbornly reserved—but also fascinating. Quinn, for his part, seemed amused by her relentless energy.

In a lot of ways, Blanca reminded him of his younger brother, Luke—clumsy, chatty, and filled with an almost annoying amount of enthusiasm. But somehow, instead of feeling overwhelmed, he found it… oddly comforting.

And that was how their friendship started. Or, as Blanca would put it, how she forced her friendship on Quinn Hughes.

Because as much as Quinn would later act like she had been an inconvenience that night, she knew—knew—that he had been grateful. He wasn’t the best with words, but Blanca had a knack for reading between the lines.

Which was exactly how she knew Quinn was pissed right now.

“Jesus Christ, Hughes. You could drive a saint to swearing.”

“Sorry, Blan, but I don’t need you to baby me.”

"Quinn." She folded her arms, standing her ground. "I know you hate being injured. I know you hate that you can’t play. I know you bottle things up and don’t want to talk about it. But this is why I moved in with you. You can't deny that you need help."

She pointed at his arm, frustration bubbling over. “You can’t even lift a goddamn fork, Quinny.”

His jaw tightened as he glared at her. She stared right back.

Yeah, Quinn Hughes was stubborn as hell.

Good thing Blanca had never been the type to walk away from a challenge.

"Open your mouth, Hughes." She dangled a tortilla chip loaded with guacamole in front of his face.

Quinn sat at the table, leaning back in his chair as if the mere suggestion of it was an insult. "No."

Blanca rolled her eyes. "Quinn."

"I can feed myself."

"Really? Barely."

"I'm not a child."

"You sure? Because you’ve spilled salsa on your hoodie twice in the last ten minutes."

Quinn scowled, glancing at the small red stain near his ribs. "It’s not my fault. My left hand is useless."

"Exactly." Blanca pushed the chip closer. "So stop being a pain and eat."

His jaw clenched, but after a beat, he snatched the chip from her hand, awkwardly gripping it with his left fingers, trying not to drop it. He shoved it into his mouth, chewing angrily.

Blanca smirked. "See? That wasn’t so hard."

Quinn muttered something under his breath and reached for his glass of water, but his hand fumbled against the rim, almost knocking it over. Blanca caught it just in time, sighing dramatically as she steadied the cup.

"Wow," she said. "Super graceful."

Quinn exhaled sharply, frustration bubbling up. It wasn’t just about the injury—and she knew it. Blanca could see the weight of it all in his eyes. The endless mess that was Quinn Hughes’ life, and how tired he was of trying to hold it together. His team was struggling, the locker room was tense, and he felt like he was holding it all together with duct tape and a prayer. The JT trade was supposed to be a breath of fresh air, but the chemistry was poisoned, and the vibe in the locker room only got worse. As captain, he felt responsible for the disaster, even though he knew it wasn’t his fault.

Blanca noticed the change in his mood, and to distract him, she shifted the conversation. "How are your brothers doing? I heard you talking to them this morning."

Quinn ran a hand through his hair, relieved for the change in topic. "Luke and Thea are apartment hunting."

Blanca raised an eyebrow. "Oh?"

"Yeah. With Jack’s girlfriend around, four people in one place was too much."

Blanca laughed, tossing her long hair over her shoulder. "Took them long enough to figure that out."

Quinn huffed. "Seriously." He hesitated, then added, "And I think Luke's gonna propose."

Blanca nearly dropped the wooden spoon she was using. "Shut up."

"I’m serious."

"Luke Hughes? The baby of the family?"

"He’s twenty-one, Blan."

She snorted. "Yeah, well, that still makes him a baby. But damn, Thea must be special."

"She is," Quinn admitted, leaning back in his chair. "Luke's different with her. More mature. It's… weird."

Blanca smiled as she flipped a tortilla on the stove. "Weird in a good way?"

"Yeah." Quinn’s voice was thoughtful, almost surprised. "It’s good. He’s happy, really happy."

Blanca stole a glance at him. He was staring at the counter, his fingers tapping absentmindedly against the marble table, lost in thought. His expression was distant, like he was a million miles away. Blanca knew exactly what was going through his mind. He wanted what his brother had—the love, the stability, the certainty. And it frustrated him to no end that he wasn’t even close to having something like that.

"And Jack?" she asked, keeping her tone light. "How’s he handling having a girlfriend?"

Quinn let out a low chuckle. "Honestly? Better than I thought. I didn’t think Anja would stick around, but she has. I mean, it's Jack."

"You mean Jack ‘manwhore’ Hughes?" Blanca teased.

Quinn smirked again. "Yeah. But he changed a lot. He is more… grounded, I guess. I don't know how to explain it. He's still Jack, but... toned down."

Blanca flipped another tortilla, nodding. "Miracles do happen, Quinny. Here’s the proof." Then, before she could stop herself, she added, "Maybe you should take notes."

Quinn's head snapped up. "What?"

Blanca shrugged, feigning innocence. "I mean, if Jack can leave his hookup phase behind, maybe you should think about it too."

His jaw clenched. "I don’t know what you’re talking about." His gray eyes darkened.

Blanca gave him a knowing look. "Quinn..."

His expression hardened, defensive. "Drop it."

So she did. For now. But worry lingered, heavy in her chest.

Because she knew exactly what she was talking about.

Quinn had never been like this. Even when he was younger, he was never the typical NHL player—the one who used fame to collect one-night stands. Sure, hockey had always been his life, but Quinn was also a hopeless romantic. He might not have been great with words, but his actions spoke volumes. He was the kind of guy who remembered the little things—how someone took their coffee, the way they fidgeted when they were nervous, the songs they liked but never admitted to. He cared deeply, even if he didn’t say it out loud. And he wanted to be a father more than anything. They’d talked about it before. He really wanted a family.

Blanca and Quinn had been friends for seven years now. They’d been through a lot together. Quinn had been there for her when she’d dealt with her trauma caused by her sexually abusive stepfather, when her first love broke her heart, and when she wrecked her car in the middle of a snowstorm and needed him to pick her up in the dead of night. She had always been there for him too. But with Quinn, it was harder. She knew his desires, his dreams, but he hated sharing his burdens. When things went wrong, he shut down, bottling everything up until it exploded. She wished he would let her in. She knew how bad his coping mechanisms were. She understood, because she’d done the same, and she’d nearly lost herself in depression. She knew firsthand how damaging this could be.

Quinn was cold, detached. He hooked up with random girls like it didn’t matter. Like they didn’t matter. And Blanca knew why. She knew who had broken him.

Olivia.

The girl who had shattered him, made him question everything, and turned him into someone who didn’t believe in love anymore.

Quinn wouldn’t talk about it. He avoided the subject like the plague. But Blanca wasn’t stupid. She saw the way he moved through life now—jaded, disillusioned, cynical. She was there when things went south with Olivia. She knew things had ended badly, but Quinn refused to share the details. He claimed hockey was his priority and that he needed to make a decision, but that was only part of the whole story. Everyone knew it—his mom, his dad, his brothers, and his friends. He wasn’t ready to share more. But it had been a year now, and he was still closed off.

And Blanca was afraid.

Afraid that if he kept this up, he would lose something in himself. Something he wouldn’t be able to get back.

She swallowed hard, pushing the lump in her throat down as she slid a plate of tacos in front of him.

"Eat," she ordered.

Quinn didn’t argue. He picked up a taco—with his left hand, struggled, cursed under his breath, and took a bite.

Blanca almost smiled. Almost.

But the worry didn’t go away.

Because Quinn Hughes was spiraling.

And she had no idea how to stop it.

—

Blanca clinked her glass against Bella’s, the sound of laughter and conversation buzzing around them in the crowded pub. The atmosphere was warm, filled with the hum of Friday night energy. She leaned back against the bar, letting the buzz of excitement settle in, though a quiet unease lingered beneath her skin.

“So, what do you think about that guy over there?” Bella gestured toward a group of men at a nearby table, one of them flashing a grin in their direction.

Blanca smiled faintly, her gaze drifting over to the group. The guy Bella pointed out had messy hair, a confident smile, and an easy charm about him. He looked good, but even as she saw him, a wall rose up inside her, the same wall she couldn’t seem to break down, no matter how hard she tried.

“The one with the messy hair?” Blanca asked, her voice light, though she could feel the hesitation bubbling up in her chest.

Bella nodded, a grin spreading on her face. “Yeah. He’s been eyeing you for a while.”

Blanca glanced back at him. He was cute, definitely her type—tall, with that rugged, effortless charm. But as she met his gaze and saw the way he looked at her, a familiar ache twisted in her stomach. She couldn’t do it—not tonight.

“Hmm,” Blanca murmured, raising her glass to her lips. “Maybe, but I’m not really feeling it tonight.”

Bella raised an eyebrow. "You sure? You’ve been working hard on yourself, Blan. You’re allowed to have some fun."

Blanca’s fingers traced the rim of her glass, trying to push down the weight in her chest. “I know. But... I don’t know. It’s just—sometimes it feels easier to keep people at arm's length, you know?”

Bella’s gaze softened, the understanding clear in her eyes. She didn’t need any further explanation—she knew about Blanca’s past. She knew about her stepfather, the abuse, the aftermath. And, more than anyone, she understood the pain of trying to rebuild after something like that. Blanca had been through years of therapy, working through the trauma, and she had made incredible progress. But some days, like tonight, the scars still felt raw.

"I get it," Bella said quietly, leaning in a little. "But you’re in a good place now, right? You’ve come so far. You deserve to let someone in. You’re allowed to feel worthy of love."

Blanca’s lips pressed together, a bittersweet smile tugging at her mouth. “Yeah, I’m okay. As okay as I can be." She paused, her fingers still tracing the rim of her glass, the quiet reminder of her past lingering in her thoughts. "It’s just hard sometimes. I want to feel… normal. But…then…it’s like I forget how to even let someone close.”

Bella gave her a sympathetic look but didn’t press. “It’s a process. But you’re getting there.”

Blanca nodded, grateful for her friend’s patience. “Thanks. Really.”

Bella shrugged, as if brushing off the deep conversation. "No biggie. Now, what about that guy with the plaid shirt? He’s been eyeing you all night.”

Blanca chuckled, pushing herself to be more present in the moment. “You’re really persistent, aren’t you?”

Bella winked. “A girl’s gotta look out for her best friend.” She then raised her drink and gave a mischievous smile. “You know, if you're not going to make a move, I'll just ask for his number for my sister."

Blanca laughed, shaking her head. "Go ahead. I’m not stopping you."

They continued their teasing and lighthearted chatter for a while, the pub’s lively hum almost drowning out the more complicated thoughts swirling in Blanca’s mind. It was easy to get lost in the fun, in the banter, in the sense of normalcy.

As they shared another round, Bella pulled out her phone, her eyes scanning the screen. Blanca didn't think much of it at first, until Bella’s expression shifted. Her fingers froze mid-scroll, and she lifted her gaze, a quiet frown forming on her face.

“What’s up?” Blanca asked, a little concerned.

Bella didn’t say anything at first, but her eyes told a different story. Finally, she spoke, her voice tinged with that familiar note of understanding. “It’s Olivia.”

Blanca tried to keep her tone light, though she could feel her insides twisting. “What about her?”

Bella’s voice dropped a little. “She just posted a picture. With her new boyfriend.”

The words hit her like a blow to the chest. It was like a jolt of electricity shot through her body. The weight of it all—the reminder of Quinn’s heartbreak, the way Olivia had left him behind without a second thought—it all came rushing back.

Blanca’s hand tightened around her glass. She could already picture Quinn, alone, staring at his phone, the pain in his eyes growing darker with each passing minute.

She looked at Bella, her expression shifting. “I have to go.”

Bella immediately understood. “Blanca... you don’t have to—”

“I do,” she interrupted, standing up quickly. “Quinn’s going to see that and—he’s not going to handle it well. I can’t just leave him like that.”

Bella nodded, her expression softening with concern. “Go. I get it.”

Blanca shot her a tight smile and grabbed her purse, throwing a few bills down on the table. "I’ll check in with you later. Thanks for tonight, B."

Bella didn’t say anything more, just gave her a quiet nod, watching her leave. As Blanca made her way out of the pub, the chill of the night air hit her skin, but inside, the warmth of the crowd and the music faded into the background. She could already feel the familiar weight of worry settle on her shoulders.

Quinn had been struggling, and tonight, it was about to get worse. She needed to get to him before he spiraled completely. She couldn’t just let him shut down again.

Her breath was shallow as she pulled her phone from her bag, quickly typing out a message to Quinn: I’m going back. Don’t do anything stupid.

She didn’t wait for a cab to pull up in front of the pub; instead, she hailed the first one she saw and climbed in without hesitation.

The taxi rolled to a stop outside their building, and Blanca could feel her heart pounding in her chest as she rushed up the stairs, her mind only on Quinn. The elevator felt like it would take too long, so she took the stairs two at a time, her breath shallow as she pushed through the door into the apartment.

She didn’t need to see much to know that Quinn was in a bad place. The dark living room was only dimly lit by the soft glow of the TV, and there he was, sprawled across the couch, eyes red, face drawn. His jaw was clenched tight, fists occasionally twitching like he was fighting against himself.

Blanca hesitated for a moment, standing in the doorway. She could see it in his posture—the way he held himself tight, like he was trying to keep something from spilling out. The anger, the sadness, the frustration.

“Quinn…” Her voice was soft, unsure how he would react.

He didn’t look up, but he scoffed. “I’m fine. I don’t need anyone right now.”

Blanca’s stomach twisted, the words cutting through her like they always did when he shut her out. She stepped forward slowly, placing her purse down on the table. “Quinn,” she said again, firmer this time, her voice carrying the weight of everything she needed to say. “You’re not fine. And you’re not going to shut me out this time.”

He finally glanced up, his eyes wild, almost defiant. “I’m not in the mood for your pity.”

“I’m not pitying you,” she shot back, moving closer, refusing to back down. “I’m here because I care. You’ve been there for me, you’ve held me when I thought I couldn’t stand anymore. And now it’s my turn to do the same for you.”

Quinn let out a bitter laugh, shaking his head. “What’s the point? You don’t get it. You’ve got your life together. You’ve got—” He cut himself off, his voice lowering, and he looked away, staring out the window into the night.

Blanca stood there for a moment, her chest tight with emotion. She knew better than anyone what it felt like to be stuck, to be at the mercy of your own mind. But Quinn’s pain was different. He was drowning in it, and no matter how much he tried to convince everyone—including himself—that he was fine, it was clear he wasn’t.

“Quinn,” she began, her voice softer now. "I get it, I really do. I know what it feels like to fall apart, to have your entire world crumble and not know how to fix it. And you know that because you were there for me through it all.”

And that was it. Quinn finally broke down, the tears that had been building up spilling over, his sobs raw and unrestrained. He buried his face in his hands, his entire body trembling.

Blanca didn't say anything. She just sat down next to him, letting him cry, her heart breaking for him, for everything he was carrying, and for everything he felt he had lost.

Quinn’s shoulders shook with each breath, his sobs raw, like the sound of someone unraveling piece by piece. His fists clenched and unclenched in his lap as if he were trying to hold onto something, anything, to keep himself together. But nothing could hold the pieces back any longer. Not when the weight of everything was pressing down on him with such unbearable force.

Blanca held him as he broke apart, and her heart cracked for him. But she knew this moment wasn’t just about comforting him—it was about letting him speak, to let him be seen in all his brokenness, something he rarely allowed himself.

Finally, after what felt like an eternity, his sobs started to quiet down, though he still trembled under her touch. He didn’t pull away. He didn’t want to. His voice, hoarse and broken, barely came out in a whisper.

“I didn’t plan for this. I didn’t plan for any of this,” he muttered, his words barely audible. His eyes, red and bloodshot, stared at the floor as though looking at the mess of his life, but unable to find a way to fix it.

Blanca didn’t speak, knowing that he wasn’t done, that this was only the beginning of the avalanche that was about to pour out.

Quinn rubbed a hand over his face, dragging it down slowly, the exhaustion from everything he was carrying weighing heavily on him. “I’m twenty-five, Blanca. Twenty-five. And I feel like I’m falling behind. I should have more. I should be… I should be someone by now. Not just a fucking captain who can’t keep his team together. Not just a guy who spends his nights alone in this apartment.”

He looked at her then, his gaze empty, almost pleading. “I thought I’d have it figured out by now. I thought by the time I was in my mid twenties, I would have the house. The job. The family. I would be set, you know? I’d have a plan, I’d have a life.”

His hands clenched at his sides again, his nails digging into his palms like it would somehow ground him in this sea of uncertainty. “But I don’t have any of that. Nothing. Just a failing career, a broken relationship, and—” he paused, swallowing hard. His chest tightened as if the words were caught in his throat, too painful to say. “And I’m just... so fucking tired of watching everyone else live the life I thought I would have. My teammates, my friends, even Jack—who never even wanted a girlfriend. He has everything.”

Blanca felt her heart ache at the raw honesty in his words. He’d never expressed it like this before. He had always been the one who held it all together, the one everyone looked to for strength, for leadership.

He shook his head, looking lost. “Luke’s getting married soon. Conor’s got a kid now. Hell, even fucking Elias is settling down. It feels like everyone is out there getting what they want—what they deserve—except me. And I thought... I thought I could handle it. But... I’m not handling it. I’m just sitting here, alone in this apartment, and I can’t even look at my own career without feeling like I’m failing. I’m so fucking lonely Blan.”

Blanca could feel her throat tightening as she watched him struggle, his pain radiating off him in waves. He was a man who had built up this image of himself, this strong, capable leader. But now he was torn apart in front of her, vulnerable and uncertain.

“I know I fucked up with Olivia,” he said, his voice bitter as he leaned forward, his elbows on his knees. "I put hockey first. I always did. It’s my fault. And now she’s gone, and part of me is happy she’s found someone, but a selfish part of me hates it. I know we weren’t healthy for each other. I know… I just believed…"

Blanca’s heart clenched at the rawness in his voice. This was the first time Quinn had opened up about Olivia, and the weight of his words hit her harder than she expected. "I thought she would understand," he continued, voice shaking slightly. "I knew it wasn’t fair to expect her to give up her life in New York. I asked her to move in with me, and when she said no, my ego got bruised. She wanted to take things slow, but I... I wanted everything right away. So, I pushed harder with hockey. But all it did was make me more miserable. I was putting everything into the team, but we were still failing. And in the process, I lost her."

Quinn ran a shaky hand through his hair, eyes wide with frustration. "I wanted it all, Blanca. The career, the family, the love. But now... now I feel like I can’t even balance being captain. I’m not holding the team together like I should. Maybe I was never good enough. Maybe I’ll never figure out how to make all this work. And that... that fucking kills me."

Blanca’s breath caught as she saw the sheer depth of his self-doubt. He was looking for validation, for some sign that he wasn’t completely broken. But he wasn’t asking for sympathy. He wasn’t asking her to fix him.

He was simply looking for someone who understood.

“I don’t know how to fix this,” he continued, his voice quivering. “I don’t know how to make it all work. The media only makes everything worse, and I can’t quiet the dark thoughts in my head.

Maybe I’m just not meant to have it all. I don’t have that… balance. That ability to chase what I want without falling apart. I thought I could handle it, but I can’t.”

He paused, swallowing hard. The sadness in his eyes was raw, as if admitting it to someone else made it feel even more real. “I want a family, Blanca. I’ve told you before, but I need you to understand—it’s not just about having kids. It’s about finding something real. Something... home.”

He looked down for a moment, then back up at her, the weight of his words hanging in the air. “I want someone who’s there when I come home from a road trip. A smile on their face like they’ve missed me. I want to walk into an apartment that feels warm, where I can just collapse and know I’m not alone.”

A distant look crossed his face, and he spoke softer now, almost as if he were thinking aloud. “I want weekends spent doing nothing but lying on the couch, cuddling. I want to wake up next to someone. I want to feel like I’m part of something that’s mine. And yeah... I want the crying baby, the sleepless nights, the chaos. Because I’m so tired of the emptiness, the silence that fills the space around me. I want to feel like I belong somewhere. To someone.”

His gaze drifted, softening as a faint, faraway smile tugged at the corner of his lips. But it didn’t reach his eyes. “Right now, I don’t feel like I belong. Not in my career. Not in my relationships. Not in my life.”

Blanca reached out, her hand trembling as she placed it gently on his arm, but he didn’t pull away.

“I miss my family... so much,” he said quietly. “But I can’t just go back to them. They have their own lives now. And all I have here is me.” He paused, his words lingering. “I don’t even know if I like who I’ve become… I don’t know if I like...” He hesitated, as if admitting something he wasn’t ready to say. “…me.”

He let out a long sigh, slumping back into the couch, looking defeated. “I don’t know what I’m supposed to do anymore. I don’t know if I’ll ever get this right. I don’t know if I’m strong enough to carry all of this. And I don’t even know if anyone’s gonna be around to help me when I fall apart.”

Blanca’s chest tightened as she saw how lost he truly was, how much he was carrying, and how alone he felt. But there was one thing she needed him to understand—one thing that she needed to make clear.

“Quinn,” she said softly, her voice steady despite the ache in her heart. “You don’t have to be strong all the time. You don’t have to carry this alone. You’re not a failure. And you’re not broken. You’re just... human. And you’re allowed to not have all the answers right now. You’re allowed to not have it all figured out.”

His eyes met hers, and for the first time in what felt like forever, he seemed to soften. The rawness of his pain was still there, but the weight of it seemed to ease, if only for a moment.

Blanca squeezed his arm gently. “You’ve been there for me when I was at my lowest. I’m here for you now. I’m not going anywhere.”

Quinn didn’t respond immediately, but she could see the flicker of something in his eyes—hope, maybe. Or at least, the first inkling of it. His breathing slowed, his shoulders sagging as some of the tension drained out of him.

They sat there for a moment in silence, the weight of everything still lingering in the air, but it felt… lighter somehow. Like finally letting the words out had loosened the tight grip around his chest.

Then, Blanca exhaled, clapped her hands together, and announced, “Alright. Now that we’ve had our big, dramatic breakthrough moment—I’m sending your ass to therapy.”

Quinn groaned, dragging his hands over his face. “Oh, come on.”

“I’m serious.” She crossed her arms. “You just hit rock bottom on your living room couch, and I am not doing this every week. I’m putting you in professional hands.”

Quinn gave her a flat look. “I am not going to therapy.”

Blanca raised an eyebrow. “Oh really? Because I distinctly remember a certain someone forcing me to go when I was a complete disaster. Ring any bells?”

“That was different,” he muttered, but he refused to meet her eyes.

“Oh, it was so different,” she mocked, rolling her eyes. “I was spiraling, you were worried, you made me go, and—shockingly—it actually helped.” She nudged him. “I’m just returning the favor.”

Quinn groaned again, flopping back against the couch. “I hate you.”

Blanca grinned. “Love you too, buddy. Now, I’m gonna find you a good therapist, and if you try to fight me on it, I will drag you there myself.”

He sighed, shaking his head. “You’re the worst.”

“And yet, here I am, saving your life.” She stood, stretching her arms above her head. “Now, do you want to order takeout or do I have to force you to eat something, too?”

Quinn huffed out something that almost sounded like a laugh, rubbing his eyes. “Jesus, you’re relentless.”

Blanca smirked. “Damn right.”

For the first time that night, there was something close to a smile on Quinn’s face. Maybe he wasn’t completely okay yet—maybe he was still drowning in all of it—but at least he wasn’t alone in it. And, for now, that was enough.

–

Blanca was laying on the couch, lazily flipping through her phone while Quinn sat on the other end, his leg still propped up on a pillow. It had been a few weeks since his breakdown, and though things weren’t magically perfect, she could see a difference. Therapy was helping—not that he’d ever admit it—but she saw it in the way he actually talked to her now instead of shutting down. The way he put in effort.

And apparently, the way he now had homework from his therapist.

“So,” Quinn said, clicking his pen open. “I need a hobby.”

Blanca raised an eyebrow. “You don’t already have one?”

“Reading doesn’t count, apparently.” He rolled his eyes. “I need to do something outside of my apartment.”

She smirked. “That’s rough, buddy.”

Quinn shot her a look before flipping open the notebook on his lap. “Anyway. I have to pick five hobbies to try. And since you’re the reason I’m in therapy, I’ve decided you’re doing them with me.”

Blanca blinked and sat up quickly. “Excuse me?”

He leaned back against the couch, smirking. “Payback.”

“That’s not how this works.”She groaned.

“That’s exactly how this works.”

She squinted at him. “So what, I just have to go along with whatever you pick?”

“Yup.” He grinned as he wrote Hobby List at the top of the page.

Blanca sighed dramatically. “Fine. But if you make me do something ridiculous like…I don’t know, bird watching, I’m out.”

Quinn snorted but ignored her as he tapped the pen against his chin. “Alright. First up… bowling.”

She made a face. “Bowling?”

“It’s easy and I can still do it one-handed.” He lifted his injured hand slightly. “Therapist approved.”

She hummed. “Okay, I guess that makes sense. What’s next?”

Quinn scribbled down another one. “Dancing.”

Blanca grinned. “Oh my God. You’re serious?”

“Yes.” He exhaled. “I suck at it, and every time I get invited to a wedding or some fancy event, I just stand there like an idiot while everyone else has fun.”

Blanca smirked at his discomfort. “So you want to learn?”

“Yes.” He shot her a look. “But only if you suffer through it with me.”

She shook her head, laughing. “This might be the most shocking thing I’ve ever learned about you.”

“Glad I can keep things interesting,” he said with a flat voice without looking up from his notebook.

Still grinning, Blanca watched as he moved on to the third hobby.

“Okay… number three… biking.”

She narrowed her eyes. “You do realize you have an injury, right?”

“Yeah, yeah. But my legs work fine. And my therapist said low-impact cardio would be good.”

She hummed. “Alright, I’ll allow it.”

Quinn shook his head, smiling as he scribbled down the fourth one.

“Pottery.”

Blanca blinked. “Wait, like… pottery pottery?”

“Yup.”

She stared at him. “You, Mr. Captain Serious, want to play with clay?”

He shrugged. “Could be fun.” Then he glanced up at her, a slow, almost teasing smile tugging at his lips. “Plus, I wouldn't mind getting my hands a little dirty.”

Blanca’s brain short-circuited.

For a second, she wasn’t sure she heard him right. Quinn never flirted. At least, not like that. His version of charm had always been quiet, subtle—more awkward than smooth. But this? This was dangerously close to an actual line.

She squinted at him. “Okay. Who are you?”

He grinned, all smug and amused. “What?”

“You just—you never flirt. Like, ever.”

Quinn leaned back, tapping the pen against his chin. “Maybe therapy’s helping me relax a little.”

Blanca huffed, crossing her arms. “Great. Now I’ve got to deal with flirty Quinn?”

“Maybe.”

She groaned. “I take back everything. You can quit therapy.”

He laughed, shaking his head as he wrote down the last hobby.

“Okay, last one… rock collecting.”

Blanca let out a loud laugh, dramatically placing a hand to her forehead. “You were doing so well.”

“This is gonna be fun! We can do it while we hike!”

Blanca shot him a disbelieving look. “I should’ve known this was a trap. I should’ve just kept my mouth shut that night at Bella’s birthday. And now, look where that’s got me.”

“But it’s too late now, Blan. You can’t just unfriend me after seven years.” He said with a grin—enjoying himself far too much for Blanca’s liking.

"Ughhh..." Blanca groaned, flopping back onto the couch, already regretting every life choice that led to this moment.

But despite her complaints, she couldn’t help but smile. Quinn was trying. He was pushing himself, even if it meant dragging her along for the ride.

And, as much as she hated to admit it… maybe this wouldn’t be so bad.

—

The car hummed softly as it rolled down the dimly lit streets, the evening air just crisp enough to make Quinn turn up the heat a little. He kept one hand on the steering wheel, the other drumming lazily against his thigh. Blanca sat in the passenger seat, her legs tucked up slightly, scrolling through her phone while the soft tunes of whatever playlist Quinn had thrown on played in the background.

Blanca smirked, glancing over at him. “I still can’t believe you actually went through with this whole dance lesson thing.”

Quinn scoffed, eyes fixed on the road. “Psychologist’s orders.”

“I mean, I get it,” she continued, “but out of all the hobbies in the world, waltzing still feels like a stretch for you.”

Blanca already knew the real reason behind Quinn’s decision, but she never imagined he’d actually go through with booking a dance lesson. Still, she could see why he’d choose this. Quinn was a maximalist—and a terrible dancer. Quiet, awkward, and never fully comfortable in big social settings, especially at weddings where he always felt out of place. He hated looking stupid and dreaded being the guy just standing there while everyone else had fun. So, naturally, when it came to picking a hobby, he had to choose something that would make him better. Always about improving, even in the most unexpected ways. Classic pro athlete with an ego to match.

“Listen,” he sighed, adjusting his grip on the wheel, which somehow caught Blanca’s attention. Did he always have such long, nice fingers?! “I’ve been to, like, five weddings in the past year, and I have two more coming up. Ever seen a guy just standing awkwardly by the dance floor, sipping whiskey and nodding to the music? That’s me, Blan!”

She laughed. “So what, you’re learning to dance to become the life of the party now? Planning to sweep some ladies off their feet with those killer moves of yours?”

Quinn rolled his eyes. “No, I just don’t want to look like an idiot. And if I ever have a wedding of my own, I should probably know how to dance, right?”

“Ohh, now we are talking,” Blanca sing-songed, shifting in her seat. “Tell me, what’s the dream Hughes wedding looking like?”

Quinn hesitated, but there was a small smile tugging at his lips. “I mean, obviously, Luke and Jack would be there. Probably causing some kind of disaster.”

“Oh, without a doubt,” Blanca said. “I give them ten minutes before one of them spills something on the bride.”

“Five minutes,” Quinn corrected. “And that’s being generous.”

Blanca cackled, throwing her head back. “Okay, what else?”

Quinn paused, thinking for a moment. “I don’t know. Something simple. Family, close friends. Good food, good music. No gimmicks. Just… nice. And probably in Michigan.”

Blanca hummed in thought, staring out the window. “That sounds nice.”

Quinn glanced at her quickly before focusing back on the road. “What about you?”

She shrugged, twirling a strand of hair around her finger. “Something similar. I don’t really have family to invite… just friends, I guess. After everything that happened, I don’t really keep in touch with them anymore.”

Quinn’s grip tightened on the wheel for just a moment. He recognized that tone—the quiet sadness she tried to mask with a casual shrug.

"Yeah, that’s true," he replied softly, his voice light but carrying an unspoken understanding. "But obviously, I’ll be there!"

Blanca shot him a teasing grin, brushing off the sadness as though it had never been there. "Oh? You’re assuming you’ll be invited?"

"Blanca, I’ve survived hours of The Vampire Diaries, Gossip Girl, and Pretty Little Liars—all because you forced me to. After enduring that emotional chaos with you, you better invite me to your wedding, or I swear I’ll show up uninvited like one of those dramatic plot twists you love so much."

She laughed, shaking her head. "Fine, fine, you’re in. But only if you promise not to let Jack and Luke ruin everything."

Quinn huffed a quiet laugh. "Yeah, that’s impossible. But I’ll try."

They sat in comfortable silence for a moment before Blanca sighed dramatically. "God, imagine us at our weddings, actually dancing like we know what we’re doing."

"Miracles do happen," Quinn deadpanned.

Blanca elbowed him, giggling. "Shut up. You’re going to be so sappy at your wedding, I just know it."

Quinn smirked. "And you’re gonna cry. Like, full-on ugly cry."

"Obviously," she said without hesitation. "That’s a given."

Blanca glanced at Quinn, and they both erupted into laughter. After a beat, Quinn casually added, "If I ever get married, though... I still have no idea who I’d pick for my best man."

Blanca blinked, surprised. "What? Why not?"

Quinn sighed, shaking his head. "It’s not that simple. Luke and Jack have been fighting over it for years. And it’s been more than a year since I had a girlfriend, Blan. But they’re still at it, like it’s some weird competition, and I’m just stuck in the middle."

Blanca raised an eyebrow, her smile shifting to something more knowing. "That sounds like a nightmare."

"It really does," Quinn muttered. "I just don’t know how I’m supposed to pick."

Blanca drummed her fingers on her thighs, pretending to be deep in thought. "Well, if you’re stuck, I think you should just name me your best woman."

Quinn blinked, caught off guard. "Wait... what?"

"Seriously," she said, a mischievous gleam in her eye. "Who else has stuck by your side since you moved here? Who stayed by you when you were grumpy after bad games? Who tolerated your terrible taste in books? Plus, I’m the only one who can keep Luke and Jack from burning the place down."

Quinn stared at her for a beat, then chuckled. "You know what? You’ve got a point. You’d probably be the only one who can handle those two when they are together. But my taste in books is amazing, just so you know."

Blanca rolled her eyes, letting his last comment slide. "Then it’s settled. I’ll be your best woman."

Quinn grinned, shaking his head. "Alright, alright. You’re officially my best woman. But you better keep my brothers in check."

Blanca gave a mock salute. "Oh, I’ve got this. Don’t worry about it. I know them well enough to blackmail them into submission."

Quinn was taken aback for a moment, then snapped his head back and laughed heartily. "Sometimes even I’m afraid of you. You crazy latina," he said with a grin. "Although, I’ll need one more favor..."

"Oh, what now?" she teased.

"You have to let me play my sad country playlist at my wedding," he said, completely serious.

Blanca stared at him in disbelief. "What? No way, Quintin! You can’t be serious."

"Those are my favorite songs, Blanca," he said with a slight pout.

"Nope," she shot back firmly. "You’re not subjecting people to that. Your wedding isn’t a sad country song marathon."

Quinn groaned, but there was a grin on his face. "Fine. You win. But I’m still playing one country song."

"Deal," Blanca said, holding up a finger. "One country song. The rest of your playlist better be happy!"

They grinned at each other as Quinn pulled into the parking lot of the dance studio, the warm glow of the building’s lights spilling onto the pavement. He killed the engine and turned to look at her with a lazy smirk.

"Ready to make fools of ourselves?"

Blanca grinned. "Always."

And with that, they stepped out into the chilly evening, side by side, just as they always had been.

—

The sleek, modern apartment felt unusually quiet when Blanca returned home from her first week back at work. The hum of her computer screen, the soft click of her mouse, and the occasional buzz of her phone were constant reminders that life had to go on. But the first week back after an extended break, especially one spent by Quinn’s side during his recovery, had been draining. It didn’t help her mood that she was still sore from their dance lesson last week. Her legs were killing her, and her job was a pain in the ass.

Her graphic design clients were patient but demanding, and the pace at the office felt overwhelming after so many weeks of focusing solely on Quinn. Now, though, he was getting better. And she found herself overwhelmed with the weight of the world outside their little bubble.

Blanca shut the door behind her as she entered the apartment. The cool marble floors, the expansive floor-to-ceiling windows, and the soft lighting all seemed to create the same polished sense of calm. Quinn was on the couch, propped up with a cushion, his hand still in a brace but his mood lighter than it had been in weeks.

He was scrolling through his phone when she walked in, looking up with a smile as he noticed her tired expression.

“How was your week?” he asked, pushing himself up a little to sit straighter.

Blanca let out a long, exhausted sigh and tossed her bag onto the side chair. “Crazy. I didn’t think I’d miss the quiet of this apartment so much until I went back to work. I swear, I don’t remember my clients being that demanding.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow. “But you're good at what you do, right?”

“I am, but it’s the pace,” she muttered, shaking her head. “It’s not like when I could just...take a break and work on other things. I’ve been caught up in designs for days, and the deadlines are starting to stack.” She threw herself onto the couch beside him. “I didn’t realize how much I needed time away from all of it.”

Quinn shifted, turning his phone face down. He’d always been someone who showed his appreciation through actions—whether it was doing something for her or offering little gestures of thanks. But today, he felt like he needed to put things into words, something he rarely did. And for some reason, now seemed like the right time.

“I get it,” he said softly, giving her a sympathetic look. “But listen, you’ve been carrying a lot lately, haven’t you?”

Blanca paused, turning her head toward him. There was something in his voice—something different—that made her pause. Normally, Quinn would have given a teasing remark or distracted her with a joke. But today, his tone was serious, sincere.

“I’ve been carrying a lot of things for a while,” she admitted quietly. “And this week felt like a reminder of how hard it can be sometimes.”

Quinn smiled, but it wasn’t the teasing smile she was used to. This was soft, almost apologetic. “I know it’s not easy…And hey, I’ve been doing better, right?” He paused, then added, his words measured, “I thought we could take the weekend and get out of here for a bit. Go hiking.”

Blanca blinked, surprised. “Hiking?” she said, her voice full of disbelief. “You’re seriously asking me to go hiking?”

“Why not?” He shrugged, trying to sound casual, but the underlying sincerity in his voice was clear. “You’ve been working hard all week, and I’ve been stuck in this apartment. You could use a change of scenery.” His eyes held a mischievous twinkle, but there was something more genuine beneath it now. “Besides, I think you owe me. You’ve been forcing me to go to therapy and actually do the things on the hobby list. I deserve a little payback.”

Blanca stared at him, a mix of disbelief and curiosity. “You're trying to get me out of the apartment to go on a hike as payback for forcing you to go to therapy?”

Quinn’s grin softened, and he leaned back into the couch, giving her a more open, vulnerable look. “Exactly. But, honestly, it’s also a way for me to thank you.”

She tilted her head, surprised by the shift in his tone. “Thank me? For what?”

He met her gaze, his eyes holding hers for a beat too long. “For being here. For everything you’ve done. You didn’t have to take all that time off to be with me. You could’ve stayed at work, kept your routine, but instead, you were here, making sure I didn’t lose it completely. I know it wasn’t easy. I know I was snappy at times. And I don’t say it enough, but I’m grateful. More than you’ll ever know, Blanca.”

Blanca felt her breath catch in her throat. She hadn’t expected him to say anything like that. Quinn was the type of guy who showed his appreciation through small, silent gestures rather than words. But here he was, actually saying it—being vulnerable in a way she hadn’t seen before. It caught her off guard, and for a moment, she was unsure of how to respond. The sincerity in his voice made the air feel thick with something unspoken between them.

Her heart fluttered, and she quickly averted her gaze. “Quinn…” she started, her voice soft. “You didn’t have to—”

But he cut her off gently, his hand moving to rest on her shoulder as he gave her a small, reassuring squeeze. “I wanted to. I know I’m not great at talking about this stuff, but I appreciate you. I really do.”

Blanca’s pulse quickened, the unexpected tenderness in his voice making her feel something she wasn’t prepared for. She had always seen Quinn as her friend—her best friend, even—but there was something in the way he was looking at her now, something deeper, that made her pause.

To deflect the unexpected intensity of the moment, she chuckled, trying to lighten the mood. “Well, if this whole hockey thing doesn’t work out, you could always become a therapist. You’ve got the touch.”

Quinn’s lips curved into a teasing smile, but there was still that warmth in his gaze. “I’ll take that as a compliment. But seriously,” he continued, his voice dropping slightly, “I mean it, Blan. You’ve been a real lifesaver.”

Blanca swallowed, her heart still racing. She tried to shake off the strange new feeling creeping up on her, but when Quinn's hand shifted slightly, massaging her shoulders with his good hand, she froze for a moment. The warmth of his touch made her pulse quicken, and she instinctively tensed before forcing herself to relax.

It was nothing like the drunken kiss they’d shared years ago, that awkward, sibling-like kiss after the Vancouver Chucks Christmas party, where they’d both laughed it off as a mistake. No, this felt different. More…real. As if the tension between them had shifted into something else entirely.

His hand was gentle, massaging the stress from her shoulders, but his touch felt heavier somehow. She caught her breath, feeling a flutter of heat run through her veins, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond.

“Okay, okay, you’re good at this,” she finally said, her voice a little breathless, trying to ignore the heat creeping up her neck. “I didn’t think you had it in you, Quinn.”

Quinn smirked but kept his touch gentle. “What can I say? I’m full of surprises.”

But something in his eyes held her there, and Blanca, despite herself, couldn’t look away..

—

Blanca adjusted the straps of her backpack and exhaled, glaring at the uneven dirt path ahead. The towering evergreens were picturesque, the crisp mountain air refreshing, and the sunlight filtering through the branches was nothing short of beautiful. If it weren’t for the possibility of bugs crawling on her at this very moment, she might have admitted that this wasn’t completely terrible.

But there was something else making this hike harder than expected.

Or rather, someone.

Quinn walked ahead of her. His dark curls peeked out from under his cap, slightly damp from exertion, and the snug fit of his t-shirt did nothing to hide the solid muscles beneath it. His broad shoulders, strong back, and those damn thighs—thick and powerful, flexing with every step—were unfairly distracting.

Blanca swallowed.

Since when was she noticing Quinn’s thighs?

She had seen him in workout gear a million times before. Hell, he practically lived in compression shorts during the season. But out here, in the middle of the forest, in his fitted hiking gear and the sun highlighting the veins running down his strong forearms, he looked… different.

Focus, Blanca!

She shook off the thought, but the heat creeping up her neck betrayed her. This was Quinn. Her best friend! The same guy who used to steal the last slice of pizza just to mess with her. The same guy who once kissed her at a Christmas party years ago and immediately made a face like he’d just licked a lemon, declaring they had zero chemistry.

So why the hell was she looking at him now?

Blanca gritted her teeth and picked up her pace, determined to push the thought away.

Quinn glanced back at her and smirked. “What’s with the face? You look like you’re contemplating murder.”

“Because I might be,” she shot back.

He chuckled, waiting for her to catch up. “Come on, admit it. This isn’t that bad.”

She narrowed her eyes. “Give me five minutes. I guarantee I’ll have at least two mosquito bites, and then we’ll talk.”

His smirk deepened. “I’ll personally carry you back down the mountain if that happens.”

Blanca crossed her arms. “With what? One good arm?”

Quinn grinned. “Fine. I’ll leave you for the bears.”

She rolled her eyes but couldn’t stop the small smile pulling at her lips. He looked lighter today—more like his old self. And despite her initial complaints, she had to admit… it was nice to be out here.

They walked in silence for a while, the only sound being their footsteps on the trail and the occasional rustle of leaves in the breeze. Blanca was just starting to enjoy the quiet when Quinn let out a slow breath.

“Therapy’s been…interesting.”

Blanca glanced over at him. He wasn’t looking at her—his gaze was focused straight ahead, his expression unreadable. It wasn’t like him to bring this up on his own.

“Yeah?” she said carefully.

He nodded, running his good hand through his hair. “I fought it at first. You know that. But…” He hesitated, letting out a quiet chuckle. “Turns out, talking about your problems doesn’t make them disappear, but it does help make them feel a little less… impossible.”

Blanca softened. “That’s progress.”

Quinn shrugged, stepping over a tree root. “I guess I didn’t realize how much pressure I put on myself. How much of my life I’ve spent thinking ten steps ahead, stressing about where I’ll be in five, ten years. Whether I’ll still have a career, whether I’ll have done enough, whether I’ll—” He stopped, shaking his head as if frustrated with himself.

Blanca frowned. “Whether you’ll be enough?” she finished quietly.

Quinn halted mid-step.

For a second, he didn’t say anything. Then he turned to her, something raw and vulnerable flickering in his expression.

“Yeah,” he admitted, voice lower. “Something like that.”

Blanca exhaled, her chest tightening. “What does your therapist say about it?”

Quinn smirked, though there was no humor in it. “That I need to stop trying to control everything. That life isn’t a game where I have to plan ten plays ahead just to survive.” He let out a slow breath. “That if I keep living that way, I’m going to wake up one day and realize I never actually lived at all.”

Blanca’s stomach twisted.

“That’s… really good advice,” she said softly.

“Yeah,” Quinn muttered. “Easier said than done, though.”

They walked a little further, the silence between them heavy but not uncomfortable. Then Quinn turned toward her again, tilting his head slightly.

“What about you?” he asked.

Blanca blinked. “What about me?”

He smirked. “How’s the boyfriend hunt going?”

Blanca groaned. “Jesus, Quinn.”

“What?” He laughed, nudging her with his shoulder. “You told me months ago you were finally ready to start dating. That you were past all the—” He hesitated, his voice softening. “—the stuff with your stepdad. And you wanted to find someone.”

Blanca sighed, rubbing the back of her neck. “I’m trying. I went on a couple of dates, but I don’t know. It’s hard.”

Quinn watched her carefully. “Hard how?”

She exhaled. “Hard to trust. Hard to open up. Hard to even want to put myself out there like that.”

She hesitated, then, before forcing herself to admit the real truth. “And honestly? I can’t even think about sex.”

She expected him to joke, to tease, but he didn’t. Instead, he just studied her, like he was actually listening.

“That makes sense,” he said simply. “You went through a lot, Blanca.”

She swallowed. It wasn’t often that people really acknowledged it.

“I just…” She hugged her arms around herself. “I don’t know how to move past it. How to be normal about it.”

Quinn’s gaze softened. “You are normal.”

She huffed a quiet laugh. “You know what I mean.”

They stood there for a long moment. Then Quinn did something unexpected.

He reached out and, with his good hand, squeezed her shoulder gently—just enough to ground her. Just enough to remind her that he was here.

And Blanca felt it.

The warmth of his palm. The slow, comforting pressure. The way his fingers lingered for just a second too long before he pulled away.

She swallowed, her pulse skittering in her throat.

Since when did this feel different?

Since when did Quinn touching her feel like… something?

“Maybe you don’t have to force it,” Quinn murmured. “Maybe it’s not about trying to be ready all at once. Maybe it’s just about… letting things happen when they’re meant to.”

Blanca stared at him.

There was something in his voice—something careful. Something unspoken.

And suddenly, she wasn’t just noticing his thighs or his arms anymore. She was noticing the way his dark eyes softened when he looked at her. The way his lips curved ever so slightly, like he was waiting for her to say something.

She swallowed hard.

“Since when do you give such good advice?” she asked, voice a little unsteady.

Quinn smirked. “Since therapy.”

Blanca forced a laugh, but her pulse was still racing.

This was Quinn—her best friend.

So why the hell did it suddenly feel like so much more?

–

Blanca paced back and forth in Quinn’s luxury apartment, phone pressed to her ear, her heart still racing from the hike earlier. She needed answers. She needed help.

The line barely rang twice before Bella picked up.

“Hey, what’s up?”

Blanca didn’t even bother with pleasantries. “I think I’m going insane.”

There was a pause. “…Okay, but like, is this a normal Blanca ‘I hate humans’ kind of insane or an ‘I just committed a crime’ kind of insane? Because I need context before I react appropriately.”

Blanca groaned. “Neither! It’s—” She stopped, dragging a hand through her hair. “It’s Quinn.”

Bella’s pause was even longer this time.

Then, like the absolute menace she was, she let out a loud, exaggerated gasp. “Oh my god.”

Blanca winced. “No. Don’t ‘oh my god’ me. That’s not—”

“You like him.” Bella’s voice was smug.

“I do not!” Blanca snapped, immediately defensive.

Bella burst out laughing. “Babe. You called me two seconds into a crisis because of him. If that’s not liking him, then what is?”

Blanca groaned again, flopping down on her bed and covering her face with a pillow. “This is bad. This is so bad.”

“What’s bad about it?” Bella asked, way too delighted by this. “Quinn’s hot. He’s smart. He treats you better than any other man in this city. Oh, and let’s not forget—you’ve literally been living with him.”

Blanca groaned louder. “That’s the problem. We’ve been friends for so long, and now suddenly, I’m—” She waved her hand wildly in the air, despite the fact that Bella couldn’t see her. “Noticing things.”

Bella snorted. “Like what?”

Blanca sat up, gripping the pillow. “Like how his arms are stupidly big. Or how his thighs are just—rude. Or how he looks way too good in a freaking hiking outfit. And worst of all?”

Bella gasped dramatically. “There’s worse?”

“Yes!” Blanca hissed. “I felt something when he touched me today. And not in a ‘we’re best friends, this is totally normal’ way. In a ‘holy shit, I might be attracted to Quinn Hughes’ way.”

Bella screamed.

Blanca immediately pulled the phone away from her ear. “Jesus, Bella, calm down!”

“I KNEW IT!” Bella howled. “I CALLED THIS YEARS AGO! BROCK! BROCK, GET OVER HERE!”

Blanca’s eyes widened in horror. “NO—DO NOT INVOLVE BROCK!”

Too late. She could already hear Bella yelling at her boyfriend, Brock Boeser, in the background.

“BABE! GUESS WHAT? BLANCA FINALLY REALIZED SHE’S IN LOVE WITH QUINN!”

“I AM NOT IN LOVE WITH QUINN!” Blanca shrieked.

Brock’s amused voice rang through the speaker. “Took her long enough.”

Blanca wanted to die.

“Bella, I swear to God,” she hissed. “If you don’t shut up, I will personally fly to your house and strangle you.”

Bella was still cackling. “Oh, babe. You know I can’t keep a secret. Why are you even telling me this?”

Blanca groaned, flopping back against the couch. “Because I thought you’d be a supportive friend and help me figure out how to stop this before it ruins everything!”

Bella’s laughter softened into something a little more sincere. “B, listen to me. There’s no stopping this. You and Quinn? It was always gonna happen.”

Blanca frowned. “That’s ridiculous.”

“No, what’s ridiculous is that every single person in our friend group knew before you did,” Bella said smugly. “There were bets, Blanca.”

Blanca nearly choked. “WHAT?!”

“Oh yeah. Jack bet it would happen last year, but I said it would take you at least another hockey season. I knew you two were blind, but damn, I didn’t think it would take this long.”

Blanca was going to pass out. Or maybe throw herself off the nearest balcony.

“Bella,” she said through gritted teeth, “I need you to promise me you won’t tell anyone else.”

“…Define promise.”

Blanca screamed.

—

Quinn had always loved Blanca.

Not in the way people assumed, though.

Not in a way that ever made him question things before.

It was just… Blanca. His best friend. His person. The one who had been in his life for over seven years, through every high and low, through every moment of absolute chaos and quiet. He loved her the way you love the person who knows your worst days and stays anyway. The way you love the person who never lets you drown alone.

But now?

Now, sitting next to her in this pottery class, watching the way she tucked her hair behind her ear, the way her brows pulled together in focus, the way her lips curled in satisfaction when her hands worked the clay into a vase—he was realizing with something close to panic that he might be starting to love her in a very, very different way.

And Quinn had no idea what to do with that.

Because this wasn’t how it was supposed to go.

Blanca was his Blanca. She was the one who dragged him to therapy and made him take his healing seriously. The one who moved in with him after his injury without hesitation. The one who stood by his side even when he was at his absolute lowest. She had always been strong—so strong that sometimes Quinn felt like she carried the weight of the world, even when she didn’t have to. And he adored that about her. He adored her.

But now?

Now he was noticing things he shouldn’t be noticing.

Like the way her hair caught the light, strands shining under the warm glow of the studio.

Or how the curve of her smile made something tighten in his chest.

Or how her laugh—soft, genuine, so completely Blanca—made his entire body warm in a way he did not want to analyze.

Quinn forced himself to focus on the sad excuse for a clay bowl in front of him, trying to shove down the realization clawing its way to the surface.

Nope. Not happening. This was fine. He just needed to get through this class without doing something stupid.

Blanca, completely unaware of his spiraling, glanced over at his clay with an amused look. “Are you murdering it or shaping it?”

Quinn scowled. “It’s clay. How the hell am I supposed to know?”

She smirked, hands moving effortlessly over her own piece. “You have to be patient. You can’t just force it.”

Quinn shot her a dry look. “That sounds like my therapist's advice.”

Blanca laughed, bumping her shoulder into his. “Maybe because it is.”

And Quinn?

Yeah. He was screwed.

Because he’d never had trouble being this close to her before. Never had a problem with the way she nudged him or leaned into him when they joked around. Never once thought twice about the way she invaded his space like she belonged there.

But suddenly, all of it was different.

Suddenly, his entire body was hyper aware of her.

And when she turned to him, smiling like she always did, something inside Quinn tilted.

She must have noticed something off in his expression because her smile softened, her voice quieter when she asked, “You okay?”

Quinn swallowed hard, forcing himself to nod. “Yeah.”

It wasn’t a lie.

But it wasn’t the full truth, either.

Because Quinn had always loved Blanca.

But now?

Now he was falling.

And for the first time in their friendship, he wasn’t sure he could stop himself.

—

Quinn was losing it.

He wasn’t the type to freak out.He played in front of thousands of people. He led a team. He had dealt with injuries, losses, and the crushing weight of expectations.

But this?

This was Blanca.

And he was freaking the hell out.

He didn’t even think—he just grabbed his phone and called the one group chat he usually muted unless absolutely necessary.

Jack 💀, Luke 🦦, Quinn 🙄

The FaceTime rang twice before Luke’s face popped up first, slightly confused but not overly concerned. “Hey, what’s up?”

Then Jack’s face joined, looking like he had just woken up from a nap, his hair a mess. “This better be good, man. I was having a dream where I won the Hart Trophy, and I swear—”

“Guys,” Quinn cut him off, voice urgent. “I think I’m in love with Blanca, and I’m going to die.”

There was silence.

Then—

“Oh, finally,” Luke said with a knowing sigh, rubbing his face.

Jack, on the other hand, howled with laughter. “Oh my God. Oh my God. This is so good.”

Quinn scowled. “How is this good? I’m spiraling! This is bad! This is—this is the worst possible—”

Jack ignored him completely, grinning as he turned to someone off-screen. “Anja, babe, get over here! Quinn’s having a crisis about Blanca.”

A muffled laugh came from Jack’s side before a voice—Anja’s, Quinn assumed—responded, “Oh, this I need to hear.”

Quinn groaned. “This is not a joke. This is—”

“You’re in love with your best friend and don’t know what to do about it?” Luke finished, unimpressed.

“Yes! Because it’s Blanca! We’ve been friends for seven years. And I—I can’t lose her over this.”

Jack smirked. “Or maybe you just finally pulled your head out of your ass and realized what literally everyone else knew would happen.”

Quinn blinked. “What?”

Luke sighed again, shaking his head. “Dude, we all knew. Our entire family knew. Her friends knew. My girlfriend knew. Hell, even Jack’s dumb ass knew—”

“Hey!” Jack cut in, offended.

Luke ignored him. “—you and Blanca were always going to end up here.”

Quinn felt his stomach drop. “No. No, that’s—”

“Yes,” Jack interrupted. “Yes, it is. You’ve been obsessed with her since, like, forever. You just convinced yourself it was some kind of special friendship love, when really, you’ve been down bad since the moment you met her.”

Quinn opened his mouth to argue, then closed it, realizing he had nothing to argue with.

Because… maybe Jack wasn’t entirely wrong.

Luke leaned forward, eyes serious. “Quinny, listen. What’s actually freaking you out?”

Quinn let out a breath, rubbing a hand over his face. “I just—I don’t want to screw this up. I don’t want to lose her. Blanca… she deserves everything. Someone who can show her love in every way possible. She’s been through so much, and she deserves to be cherished. And I—” He exhaled sharply. “I don’t know if I can be enough.”

For once, Jack wasn’t smirking. He was quiet, watching him closely.

Luke, the annoyingly wise youngest brother, spoke first. “Quinn. The fact that you’re even thinking like that? That’s why you are enough.”

Jack nodded, a rare moment of sincerity in his expression. “Dude, you’re the best guy she could ever find. And let’s be real, you already show her love in every way. You just didn’t realize it.”

Quinn swallowed. “But what if—”

“Quinny,” Luke interrupted. “You love her. She loves you. You guys are just stupid.”

Jack grinned. “Exactly. And honestly? This is way more fun for me than watching Luke be disgustingly in love with Thea.”

From Luke’s side, a voice—Thea’s—called out, “I heard that, Jack!”

Jack only cackled.

Quinn sighed, shaking his head. “So, what do I do?”

Jack leaned back, looking smug. “Oh, you’re sooo far gone, dude. Just accept it.”

Luke smiled, softer this time. “And stop thinking about what she deserves and start realizing you already give it to her.”

Quinn barely had a second to process his brothers’ words before another voice chimed in from the background—Thea’s, calm and knowing.

"Once, a wise man told me: if you start believing you only deserve love and kindness if you prove it every day, it’ll eat you alive. Maybe you should listen to this."

Quinn’s stomach dropped. Because he had said that.

To Thea.

Around a year ago, when she was struggling with self-doubt, convinced that because she was older than Luke, because she had baggage, because she wasn’t perfect, she somehow had to earn the love Luke gave her so freely. Quinn had told her those words because, to him, it was so obvious.

Now?

Hearing them said to him felt like getting hit in the chest.

The call went quiet for a second. Even Jack didn’t say anything—he just watched, eyebrow raised, like he was waiting for Quinn to get it.

Luke, leaned forward. “You got this Quinn.”

Quinn exhaled sharply. His head was spinning.

Thea spoke again, softer this time. “You told me that, because you saw my worth so clearly, Quinn. Why is it so hard to see your own?”

Quinn opened his mouth, then shut it.

Because it was different when it was him. Because Blanca deserved so much, and he—

Oh.

Maybe… maybe they had a point.

Maybe he had been doing to himself exactly what Thea had done back then—convincing himself that love had to be something he earned instead of something he just deserved.

Maybe Blanca already knew who he was and still chose to be here, just like Luke had chosen Thea, not because she had to prove anything, but because he wanted to.

Jack clapped his hands together, shattering the silence. “Well. I think that’s enough wisdom for one night. Now, Quinn, stop panicking. And if you’re still freaking out, go make out with Blanca and deal with it later.”

Jack barely had time to smirk before there was a loud thwack from his side of the call.

“OW! Anja!”

Anja’s voice came through, unimpressed. “That’s what you get for being an idiot.”

Luke snorted. Thea chuckled under her breath. Quinn just sighed, dragging a hand down his face.

Jack grumbled, “You guys are so ungrateful for my genius advice.”

“Jack, I will personally hit you again if you open your mouth one more time,” Thea deadpanned.

Jack scoffed. “Oh, shut up, Miss. Old Enough to be His MILF.” But then he seemed to reconsider. Pretty quickly. “…Actually, you know what? I will shut up. You’re in the next room with Luke, which is way too close for comfort. And you’re on your period, which means you’re even more bloodthirsty than usual.”

There was a beat of silence. Then—

Thwack.

“OW! Seriously?!” Jack yelped.

Luke sighed dramatically. “Dude, you had that one coming.”

Thea’s voice was flat. “Let’s see if you still have something to say after I really hit you.”

Quinn exhaled, shaking his head, but for the first time since making this call, he wasn’t completely spiraling. His brothers were annoying as hell. His family was loud, chaotic, and absolutely relentless.

But maybe… that was exactly what he needed.

—

The kitchen was filled with the comforting aroma of Molho de Carne, the savory Portuguese beef stew that Quinn had once taught Blanca to make, and now, it was her turn to prepare it for him. Quinn stood at the counter, his hand in a brace, leaning against it with his weight shifted slightly forward, his body still restless. Blanca moved around him, her movements fluid and practiced as she worked with a quiet focus, but Quinn couldn’t help but watch her. It was hard to ignore the shift that had happened between them these past few weeks—the quiet, unspoken change that lingered after each day they spent together.

“So,” Quinn began, his voice light but laced with that dry humor they both loved, “how’s the stew looking this time? You’re not planning to ruin it again, are you?”

Blanca shot him a playful, sideways grin. “It’ll be perfect this time,” she replied, but the teasing glint in her eyes matched his. “Unlike your ‘amazing’ attempt last time. Remember that?”

Quinn scoffed, the corner of his mouth twitching upward. “That was your fault, not mine. You distracted me with all your... fangirling over Matt Rempe. The New York Rangers, Blan. Really?”

Blanca snorted, rolling her eyes dramatically. “Oh, please. I can’t help that the only thing I enjoy in hockey is hot guys.” She flashed him a teasing grin before continuing. “And I know you’re not that guy, Quinn. But even you have to admit—Matt Rempe is eye candy.”

Quinn let out a short laugh, his shoulders shaking slightly. He’d be lying if he said a bit of jealousy didn’t flicker through him, but deep down, he knew Blanca was just messing with him. “Yeah, that’s why you love being at every home game, right? Who are you watching there?”

His voice was casual, but there was a hint of challenge in it. He knew he was pushing the limits a bit, hoping for something, maybe a reaction. A glimpse of how much she cared—or didn’t.

Blanca’s grin faltered just for a moment, but she recovered quickly, her lips curling into a sly smile. “Oh, you know, just the hockey players,” she said with a shrug, but there was a teasing twinkle in her eyes. “They’re all pretty easy on the eyes, don’t you think? I just get lost in their talent... mostly.”

Quinn raised an eyebrow, leaning a little closer as he crossed his arms. “Talent, huh? Or is it something else you’re getting lost in?”

Blanca’s eyes flickered to his, and the playful energy between them shifted, crackling in the air. She could feel the change, that thin line between friendship and something... more. Something neither of them had fully explored before.

She took a step back, trying to maintain the banter, but her heart was racing. “I’m just saying, I’m all about appreciating good looks and skill. What’s the harm?”

“Well, for one,” Quinn said, stepping closer, “I’ve been pretty patient with you, watching you gawk over every ‘hot’ player in the league. But now? I’m starting to think maybe I’ve been the one you should be watching.”

Blanca let out a quiet laugh, though her pulse picked up. “Oh? You think you’re the one who should be the focus of my attention now?”

“Maybe. I’m just saying—I deserve a little more of your attention than some guy who’s three years younger than you.”

Blanca’s breath caught in her throat, surprised by his sudden boldness, but she couldn’t deny the flutter in her chest. She tilted her head, meeting his gaze with a playful challenge. “You think you deserve my attention, huh? What’s so special about you?”

Quinn smirked, his eyes darkening slightly as he took another step closer. “Well, for one, I’m the one who taught you how to make this stew. So maybe you should appreciate that, too.”

Blanca’s eyes sparkled with mischief as she crossed her arms, leaning just a bit into him. “Hmm, you might be right,” she said, voice soft but laced with flirtation. “But I’m also thinking that I’ve learned a lot from you in other areas. Like... how to handle your ‘world-class’ attitude.”

Quinn’s lips twitched, a mix of amusement and something more dangerous in his gaze. “World-class, huh? Maybe I’ll show you what else I can handle.”

Before she could respond, he was there, stepping so close that there was barely an inch of space between them. His breath was warm against her skin, and she could feel the tension between them rise, a pulse of electricity in the air.

Blanca swallowed, suddenly aware of how much she didn’t want to pull away. Her heart raced, her body instinctively leaning into him. The playful teasing had been fun, but this? This felt like something else entirely.

“Quinn—” she started, but her words faltered when he leaned in, his lips brushing against hers in a soft, tentative kiss.

It was brief, just a taste, but it sent a shock through her, and before she could think, her hands were already at his chest, pulling him closer. The kiss deepened, his lips more insistent now, and in an instant, all the unsaid things between them—the years of friendship, the quiet nights, and the fleeting touches—collapsed into this one moment. Despite the brace, his injured hand found its way to her waist, gripping her with a need that matched her own, as if he couldn’t quite control the surge of heat between them.

Blanca didn’t fight it. Her hands slid to the back of his neck, fingers tangling in the dark, tousled mess of his hair. He smelled like pine and something deeper, a hint of his cologne mixed with the faint scent of fresh air from their earlier walk they did together in the park. His body was solid against hers, the broadness of his shoulders and the lean muscle beneath his T-shirt undeniable. She could feel his pulse beneath her fingertips as their kiss grew more desperate, more urgent. His lips were soft but insistent, moving against hers with a hunger that startled her—he wasn’t holding back, not now.

Blanca let out a soft gasp when his lips left hers, his breath harsh in the space between them. He was leaning in again, his eyes dark, his expression a mixture of need and disbelief at what they’d both let slip past the point of no return.

“Fuck it,” he muttered, more to himself than to her, before pulling her into another kiss, this time with even more intensity, more urgency. It was as if he couldn’t get enough—like he was starved for this, for her. His lips were demanding and unrelenting, pulling her deeper into the storm they’d started.

Blanca lost herself in it, her hands gripping his shirt, her body pressing into him with the same desperate energy.

—

The air in the kitchen was still thick with the remnants of their kiss, but both Quinn and Blanca knew they needed a break. They pulled apart, a silent agreement passing between them as they finished the rest of their dinner, the conversation light and awkward, avoiding what had just happened.

After they cleared the table, neither of them spoke about what they’d just shared. But the tension between them was undeniable—like an electric current that ran just under the surface.

Blanca had barely set foot in the living room when Quinn reached for her again, his fingers grazing her wrist gently but insistently, pulling her back toward him. The kiss was immediate, their mouths finding each other with an intensity that had been building for months, maybe longer. She melted into it, her body responding in ways she didn’t understand, but neither of them pulled back this time.

Without thinking, they moved together—Blanca letting Quinn lead her toward his bedroom, his hands never leaving her as he guided her. They stumbled inside, a breathless mess of urgency and anticipation. The door clicked shut behind them, the room suddenly feeling too small, the space between them shrinking with every kiss, every touch.

“Blanca,” he murmured, his voice low and steady, though his heart was racing. “We don’t have to… I mean, if you’re not ready, we can stop. I’d never—” He swallowed, searching her face. “I just want you to feel safe.”

Blanca’s eyes softened, her fingers curling into the fabric of his shirt, holding on as if trying to ground herself in the moment. For a moment, she didn’t speak, her gaze tracing the lines of his face—the familiar curve of his jaw, the concern etched into his brow. He was so careful with her, always had been. And that was exactly why this felt different.

“Quinn,” she said finally, her voice quiet but firm. “You’re not that man. You’ve never been that man in my life.” She lifted a hand to his cheek, her thumb brushing against his skin. “What happened… it’s still there, yeah. It probably always will be. But you? You’re the one who’s made me believe I can let someone in. That I want to.”

His breath hitched, relief and something deeper flooding through him. He leaned into her touch, his forehead resting against hers. “I just need to know you’re sure,” he whispered. “Because I want you, but only if it’s right for you.”

Blanca smiled, a small, real thing that broke through the tension. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice gaining strength. “With you, I’m sure.”

“Before we… I need to know. Are there lines for you? Things you don’t want, or—” He paused, brushing a strand of hair from her face, his thumb lingering on her cheek. “I’d never hurt you. You know that. But I need to hear it from you.”

Blanca’s breath caught, her fingers tightening on his shoulders. For a second, the past flickered behind her eyes—her stepfather’s shadow, the years of locking herself away from trust, from touch. But Quinn wasn’t him. Quinn was the one who’d sat with her through nightmares, who’d waited patiently until she was ready to let him closer. She exhaled, steadying herself, and met his gaze.

“No hardcore stuff,” she said, her voice clear despite the flush on her cheeks. “Nothing too rough—none of that choking shit. That’s… that’s a no-go for me.” She swallowed, then softened, her lips curving into a small, almost shy smile. “But I—” She hesitated, glancing away for a beat before looking back at him, a spark of heat in her eyes. “I actually like a little dominance. A little… push, you know? When it’s you, it feels good. Safe.”

Quinn’s eyebrows lifted slightly, surprise flickering across his face before it melted into something warmer, more intent. “Yeah?” he asked, his voice dropping lower, testing the waters. “You want me to take the lead?”

Blanca nodded, her fingers sliding up to tangle in his hair. “Yeah. I never thought I’d feel that way after everything. I thought I’d always be too scared to let go, to want someone to… to lead, you know? But with you—” She leaned closer, her lips brushing his as she spoke. “With you, it’s okay. I trust you. So if you want to, you can. I want you to.”

That was all the permission he needed. Something shifted in Quinn’s eyes—respect still there, but now laced with a hunger he’d kept reined in for too long. He surged forward, capturing her mouth in a kiss that was deeper, fiercer, his hands sliding up her back to pull her flush against him. She gasped into it, her body arching instinctively, and he took the cue, guiding her backward until her knees hit the edge of the bed.

“Tell me if it’s too much,” he murmured against her lips, his tone a mix of command and care as he pressed her down onto the mattress. His hands were firm but not forceful, one sliding under her shirt to grip her waist while the other braced beside her head. “You say stop, we stop. Always.”

“I know,” she breathed, her hands tugging at his shirt, pulling it up and off in one fluid motion. “But don’t stop yet.”

The room hummed with tension, the kind that had been simmering between them for years, now boiling over. Quinn stood just inches from Blanca, towering over her with a presence that seemed to fill the space between them. His tall frame loomed, his jaw tight, his eyes dark as they held hers, searching for any trace of hesitation. He reached out, his hand firm under her chin, tilting her face up to meet his gaze. The air felt thick, charged, as if the very world was holding its breath.

“You’re sure?” he asked, his voice low and gravelly, laden with a quiet command that sent a shiver through her. His thumb brushed her lips, tracing the outline of her mouth in a way that made her pulse race.

Blanca swallowed, the words barely a whisper as she met his gaze. “Completely.”

That was all he needed. His control slipped away, replaced by a raw hunger that surged between them. He closed the distance, crashing his mouth to hers in a kiss that was all heat and fire. His lips moved hard and deliberate, as if he couldn’t get close enough, couldn’t claim her fast enough. His tongue swept in, tasting her, savoring her, and she melted into the kiss, her hands fisting in his shirt as she kissed him back just as fiercely.

The world around them seemed to vanish—there was nothing but the feel of his body against hers, the burn of his kiss, the heat building between them like a slow storm. His groan rumbled into her mouth, sending a shiver down her spine. He deepened the kiss, tilting her head to take more, his teeth grazing her lower lip before soothing it with a slow, wet press that had her gasping against him.

Minutes passed in a haze of kissing—hard, then soft, then hard again—until Blanca’s lips were swollen, breath coming in short, ragged gasps. She pulled back, her chest rising and falling with every shaky breath, and Quinn’s eyes darkened, his expression filled with a fierce desire that only intensified the heat pooling in her core.

“This needs to go,” he muttered, his voice rough, each word filled with urgency as his hands slid to the hem of her sweater. He yanked it over her head in one swift motion, tossing it aside like it was nothing, and then his hands slid down the sides of her body, pausing at the clasp of her bra. With a quick flick of his fingers, he released it, and the garment fell away. Her breasts spilled free, and for a moment, Quinn just stared, his gaze devouring her as his chest rose and fell with the effort to stay in control. A low growl rumbled in his chest.

“Fuck, you’re perfect,” he muttered, his voice hoarse with desire. He cupped her breasts, his thumbs brushing over her nipples, sending a wave of heat through her that made her arch into his touch. The sensation was almost too much, yet she craved more. He squeezed gently, then firmer, rolling one of her nipples between his fingers, watching her face, savoring the way her breath hitched. His mouth followed the path of his hands, trailing kisses from her mouth to her jaw, then down her neck. He kissed and sucked at her collarbone, and then lower, pausing just above her breast to look at her with a teasing smirk before taking her nipple into his mouth.

Blanca moaned, her hands threading into his hair, pulling him closer, needing more. Quinn switched to the other side, giving it the same attention, nipping and sucking until she was squirming beneath him, her body trembling with need.

“Your turn,” she panted, her voice husky, her breath ragged as she pushed at his chest.

Quinn hesitated, letting her take control for just a moment, standing back as she reached for his shirt with eager hands. Her fingers were shaking slightly, betraying her nerves, but her eyes were filled with determination as she yanked it off, revealing his broad chest, the muscled lines of his abdomen, and the faint scars that told of battles fought and won on the ice. Her fingers traced over his chest, the heat of his skin sending sparks of desire shooting through her. She ran them over his abs, feeling the taut muscles flex beneath her touch before they dipped lower, her fingers halting at his jeans.

She hesitated there, but Quinn gave a slight nod, his voice a low rasp. “Go ahead.”

Her fingers moved with growing confidence, undoing the button of his jeans and sliding the zipper down. His cock sprang free, hard and thick, and her breath caught in her throat. She let her gaze travel over him for a moment, taking him in, her lips parting as a sly smile curved her mouth.

She wrapped her hand around him slowly, stroking him with tentative, deliberate movements, testing the weight of him in her palm. Quinn’s head tipped back with a rough exhale, his jaw clenched as he groaned, his hands covering hers to guide her pace, tightening her grip as he hissed in pleasure.

For a moment, he let her play, savoring the feel of her hands on him, but then he pulled her hand away, his mouth crashing down on hers in a kiss that was filled with urgency. His body pressed her back toward the bed, and she complied, lying down as Quinn climbed over her, his weight sinking onto her, keeping her pinned beneath him.

He didn’t strip her jeans off just yet—he was in no rush. Instead, he pressed himself between her thighs, still clad in denim, and ground his hips against hers, the rough fabric creating a friction that sent shocks of pleasure racing through her. She gasped, her legs instinctively wrapping around him, pulling him closer, desperate for more. Quinn smirked against her mouth, his movements deliberate and slow, grinding his hips harder against hers, teasing them both with the sweet, slow burn of desire.

“Gonna take these off now,” he murmured, his breath warm against her ear before he kissed her again—deep, sloppy, his tongue sweeping into her mouth as he sat back slightly, his hands sliding down to peel her jeans and underwear down her legs, leaving her bare beneath him.

Blanca’s body was on fire, every nerve ending alive with anticipation. Quinn settled back between her thighs, skin on skin now, and he slid a hand down her stomach, pausing just above where she wanted him. His eyes never left hers, dark with desire as he hovered just above the place she ached for him most.

“Tell me what you need,” he growled, his voice a low rumble.

She gasped, her hips bucking toward his hand, desperate. “Touch me,” she pleaded, her voice strained, raw with need.

Without hesitation, he obeyed. His fingers slid lower, circling her clit with slow, deliberate circles, the pressure firm but tender, each stroke sending a spark of heat racing through her. She was already wet, and Quinn groaned at the feeling, slipping one finger inside her, then two, curling them deep as his thumb kept working her.

“Fuck, Quinn—” she moaned, her back arching, her hands clutching his shoulders as her body shook with the overwhelming pleasure he was giving her. He didn’t stop, increasing the pace, thrusting his fingers in and out, deeper and harder, his eyes locked on her face as she unraveled beneath him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his voice thick with pride, kissing her again as she gasped and moaned against him. “Let me feel you.”

Quinn’s lips lingered just above hers, his breath hot and uneven as he kissed her again, deep and consuming, his tongue tangling with hers in a way that left her dizzy. His fingers were still inside her, two thick digits pumping steadily, curling just right to hit that spot that made her toes curl. Blanca’s hips rocked against his hand, chasing the pressure, and he smirked against her mouth, pulling back to watch her writhe beneath him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he growled, voice low and rough with approval, his free hand sliding up her body to cup her breast again. He squeezed, thumb flicking her nipple, then pinched it lightly, rolling it between his fingers as she gasped, the dual sensation of his hand between her legs and on her chest lighting her up. “You like that, don’t you?”

“Yes—God, yes,” she moaned, her head tipping back into the pillow, hands gripping his shoulders as he worked her higher. His fingers thrust deeper, faster, the slick sound of her arousal filling the room, and then he added a third, stretching her just enough to make her breath catch. His thumb pressed harder on her clit, rubbing tight, relentless circles, and she shuddered, her thighs clamping around his wrist.

“Stay still,” he ordered, his tone firm as his other hand left her breast to grip her hip, pinning her to the mattress. He leaned down, kissing her neck, sucking hard enough to leave a mark before trailing his lips lower. His mouth found her breast again, tongue swirling around her nipple, then closing over it with a firm suck that sent a jolt straight to her core. He grazed it with his teeth, teasing, and she whimpered, her body arching despite his hold.

“Quinn—fuck, I’m close,” she panted, her voice breaking as the heat coiled tighter inside her. He didn’t let up—his fingers curled harder, thrusting with a rhythm that was almost punishing, his thumb relentless on her clit. His mouth moved to her other breast, lavishing it with the same attention, licking and sucking until her moans turned desperate, her nails digging into his skin.

“Look at me,” he commanded, lifting his head to meet her gaze, his eyes dark and piercing. “I want to see you when you come.” His voice was a low rumble, masculine and unyielding, and it pushed her closer, the weight of his stare as intense as his touch. He shifted his hand, angling his fingers deeper, pressing his palm against her clit now, grinding it with every thrust, and she couldn’t hold back.

“Quinn—” Her cry broke off as her climax hit, a sharp, overwhelming wave that had her shaking, her walls clenching tight around his fingers. Her vision blurred, body bowing off the bed as pleasure ripped through her, and he kept going, drawing it out, his hand steady and unyielding until she was gasping, oversensitive and trembling beneath him.

“That’s it,” he murmured, his tone softening as he slowed his movements, easing his fingers out of her with a gentleness that contrasted the intensity of moments before. He kissed her lips, soft and lingering, then her forehead, his hand sliding up to cradle her face as she caught her breath. “So fucking beautiful,” he whispered, brushing his thumb along her cheek, his touch tender now, grounding her as she came down.

Blanca’s chest heaved, her body still buzzing as she looked up at him, a dazed smile tugging at her lips. “You’re… really good at that,” she managed, voice shaky, and he chuckled, low and warm, pressing another kiss to her mouth before resting his forehead against hers.

Quinn’s breathing was still heavy, his hand resting lightly on Blanca’s hip as he watched her come down from her high, her cheeks flushed and eyes hazy. He brushed a strand of hair from her face, his touch tender, and leaned in to kiss her softly, a quiet check-in after the intensity. Pulling back, he met her gaze, his voice low and steady. “You ready for more?”

Blanca nodded, her lips parting as she caught her breath. “Yes,” she said, then hesitated, a flicker of nervousness crossing her face. “But… I want to try something first.” She shifted, sitting up slightly, her hands fidgeting in her lap as she looked at him, vulnerable but determined.

“Anything,” Quinn said, his tone warm, encouraging, though his brow furrowed slightly with curiosity. “What is it?”

She swallowed, glancing away for a moment before meeting his eyes again. “I’ve never… I want to suck you,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper. “But I don’t really know how. I—I’ve never done it, not really. Not by choice.” Her words faltered, and she took a shaky breath. “My stepfather… when he—when he hurt me, he forced me to. I hated it. It’s why I’ve never tried since. But with you… I want to. I just need you to show me.”

Quinn’s jaw tightened, a flash of anger darkening his eyes, and Blanca saw it—the way his fists clenched briefly, the muscle ticking in his cheek. She knew that look; it wasn’t aimed at her, but at the man who’d stolen so much from her. For a second, she thought he might say something, let that fury spill out, but he didn’t. He exhaled sharply, reining it in, his focus shifting back to her. This wasn’t about him—it was about her, about giving her what she needed. He reached out, cupping her face gently, his thumb stroking her cheek.

“You can tell me anything, Blanca,” he said, voice firm but soft, grounding her. “Anything you want to share, I’m here. And if you want this, I’ll make it good for you. I’ll show you—step by step. It’s your choice, always.” He paused, searching her face. “You sure?”

She nodded, a small, nervous smile tugging at her lips. “Yeah. I trust you.”

“Okay,” he said, a hint of warmth breaking through the intensity in his eyes. He shifted, sitting back against the headboard, legs spread slightly, his cock still hard and waiting. “Come here,” he beckoned, patting the space between his thighs, his tone taking on that commanding edge she liked. She crawled over, settling in front of him, and he reached for her hand, guiding it to wrap around his base. “Start slow. Just get used to it. Touch me first.”

Blanca’s fingers tightened around him, stroking tentatively, and he let out a low hum of approval. “Like that,” he said, his hand resting over hers, showing her the rhythm. “Now, when you’re ready, use your mouth. Lips first—just the tip. No rush.” His voice was steady, patient, though the heat in it betrayed how much he wanted this.

She leaned in, hesitating only a second before pressing her lips to him, soft and experimental. He groaned quietly, encouraging her, and she grew bolder, taking the head into her mouth, her tongue brushing against him. “Fuck, that’s good,” he rasped, his hand sliding into her hair, not pushing, just resting there. “Suck a little—yeah, like that. Use your tongue too.”

Blanca followed his lead, hollowing her cheeks as she sucked, her tongue swirling around him, tasting him. It was clumsy at first, unsure, but his low moans and the way his fingers tightened in her hair spurred her on. “You’re doing so fucking well,” he praised, voice rough with restraint. “Take more if you want—just what feels right. Breathe through your nose.”

She did, sliding down further, her lips stretching around him, and he guided her gently, his hand steadying her head. “Good girl,” he murmured, hips twitching slightly as she found a rhythm, bobbing slowly, her hand working what she couldn’t fit. The power of it—the way he responded, the way she controlled his pleasure—started to feel good, reclaiming something she’d thought was lost forever.

But Quinn’s breathing grew ragged, his control slipping, and he tightened his grip in her hair, voice firm. “Okay, Blanca—stop now.” She pulled back instantly, lips wet and eyes wide, and he exhaled hard, steadying himself. “I want to finish inside you,” he said, his tone leaving no room for argument but still soft with care. “This was perfect—better than perfect. You don’t know what you do to me. But I need you now.”

She nodded, a flush of pride mixing with anticipation as she wiped her mouth, meeting his gaze. “I liked it,” she admitted quietly, and he smiled, pulling her up to kiss her deeply, tasting himself on her lips without hesitation.

“You’re fucking incredible,” he murmured against her mouth, his hands sliding to her hips. “Ready for me?”

Quinn’s grip was iron on Blanca’s hips as he maneuvered her into position, pulling her astride him with a rough tug that left no room for hesitation. His broad frame dominated the space beneath her, muscles taut, his cock hard and pressing against her as he held her there, suspended just above him. His eyes—dark, commanding—locked onto hers, a smirk tugging at his lips. “You’re mine right now,” he said, voice low and gravelly, a statement, not a question. “Tell me you want it.”

“I want it,” Blanca breathed, her hands braced on his chest, fingers curling into the solid muscle there. His smirk widened, a flash of masculine satisfaction, and he didn’t wait—he yanked her down, impaling her onto him in one swift, deep thrust that stole her breath. She gasped, her body stretching to take him, and he growled, a primal sound of approval as he filled her completely.

“Eyes on me,” he ordered, his tone sharp, hands clamping tighter on her hips as he started to move. He thrust up hard, setting a rhythm that was slow but forceful, each roll of his hips deliberate, claiming. “Don’t look away.” She obeyed, caught in his stare, the intensity of it pinning her as much as his hands did. His fingers dug into her skin, guiding her to ride him, lifting and dropping her with a strength that left her no choice but to follow.

“Fuck, you feel good,” he rasped, his voice thick with emotions as he watched her, taking in the way her lips parted, the flush spreading across her chest. He shifted one hand, gripping her ass to angle her just right, driving deeper, hitting that spot that made her whimper. “Move with me,” he commanded, and when she faltered, he slapped her thigh lightly—not hard, just enough to sharpen her focus. “Like that. Harder.”

Blanca moaned, her hips rocking to match his pace, and he rewarded her with a rough groan, his other hand sliding up to her breast. He squeezed, firm and possessive, thumb and finger pinching her nipple until she arched into him, a soft cry escaping her. “That’s it,” he said, voice dripping with control as he thrust up again, relentless, his gaze never wavering. “Take it. Show me you can handle me.”

Her breaths came in pants, her body trembling under his guidance, and he slid his hand between them, fingers finding her clit with precision. “You don’t come ‘til I say,” he warned, rubbing tight, slow circles that made her thighs quake, his thrusts growing harder, more insistent. She squirmed, overwhelmed, but he held her steady, his grip unyielding. “Stay with me, Blanca. Look at me.”

“Please—” she gasped, her voice breaking, and he smirked again, a glint of triumph in his eyes as he felt her tighten around him, teetering on the edge. “Not yet,” he growled, slowing his fingers just enough to keep her there, dangling, his hips snapping up with a force that shook the bed. “Beg for it.”

“Please, Quinn—let me—” she pleaded, her nails digging into his shoulders, and he relented, his tone shifting to a rough command. “Now. Come for me.” His fingers pressed harder, his thrusts deepened, and she shattered, her climax hitting with a sharp cry, her body clenching around him as she shook, eyes still locked on his.

He didn’t hold back—watching her fall apart pushed him over. With a guttural sound, he gripped her hips bruisingly tight, slamming up into her once, twice, then burying himself deep as he came, spilling inside her with a low, possessive groan. His eyes stayed on hers, fierce and unblinking, claiming her in that moment completely.

When it was over, he didn’t soften immediately—he pulled her down onto his chest, still inside her, his arms wrapping around her with a firm hold. “You did so good, Blan,” he murmured, voice quieter now but still filled with raw emotions, as he pressed a hard kiss to her forehead. His hands loosened, stroking her back once, twice, a gentleness breaking through as he let her settle against him, their breaths syncing in the stillness.

The air settled around them. His breathing was slowing, his hands shifting from their earlier firmness to a softer touch, one arm wrapping securely around her waist while the other traced lazy circles along her spine. He pressed a lingering kiss to her forehead, his lips brushing her sweat-damp skin, and she nestled closer, her cheek resting over the steady thud of his heartbeat.

For a moment, they just lay there, the silence comfortable but charged with unspoken words. Quinn shifted slightly, tilting her face up with a gentle hand under her chin, his eyes searching hers—soft now, but still carrying that quiet strength she’d always known.

“You okay?” he asked, voice low and warm, a thread of concern woven through it. “Everything we did… was it alright? Did I overstep anywhere?”

Blanca’s lips curled into a soft, satisfied smile as her fingers traced lightly over his chest. She met his gaze, shaking her head. “No,” she murmured. “You didn’t overstep. It was perfect.”

She hesitated, her breath hitching as she searched for the right words. Then, with quiet certainty, she leaned up and kissed him—slow and tender, pouring everything she felt into it. When she pulled back, her voice was softer, more vulnerable.

“I was so afraid to admit this, but I love you, Quinn. I’ve never felt this way before—like I can just… let go and be safe. With you guiding me, making me beg… I love it. I want to be good for you.”

His eyes widened slightly, surprise flickering before something deeper, warmer took its place. He exhaled, a soft sound of relief and adoration, then pulled her closer, his fingers threading through her hair as he cradled the back of her head.

“Fuck, Blanca,” he murmured, his voice rough with emotion as he kissed her again, slow and unhurried, like he wanted to memorize the feel of her. “I love you too. More than you know.” He let out a shaky breath, his forehead resting against hers. “And that’s what scared me. You’re my best friend. The most important person in my life. I was so fucking afraid of losing you, of screwing this up. But I can’t pretend anymore. I don’t just want you in my life—I want this. Us.”

His thumb brushed along her cheek, wiping away a tear she hadn’t even realized had fallen. She smiled, a little shy now, and burrowed into the crook of his neck, breathing him in—the familiar scent of him wrapping around her like a safety net.

“I’ve never wanted this with anyone else,” she admitted, her voice muffled against his skin. “Never thought I could. But with you… it feels right. I like when you take control. It’s… freeing.”

Quinn exhaled softly, his grip on her tightening. “Good,” he murmured. “Because I love guiding you. Watching you let go, knowing you trust me that much—it’s insanely hot.” He adjusted slightly, pulling the blanket higher over them, tucking her securely against his chest. “We’ll figure everything out tomorrow, I promise. But for now, just let me hold you.”

She nodded, sinking into him as his hand settled on her hip, grounding them both.

“Rest now,” he whispered, his fingers combing through her hair. “I’ve got you.”

And as she drifted off, wrapped in his arms, she knew—deep in her bones—that he truly did.

#quinn hughes fic #quinn hughes #quinn hughes imagine #quinn hughes fanfiction #quinn hughes x oc #nhl fanfic #quinn hughes smut #hockey fanfic

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bratbarzal · 1 month ago

Text

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.

#luke hughes #luke hughes x reader #luke hughes imagine #luke hughes fanfiction #nhl imagine #nhl fanfiction #luke hughes fluff #luke hughes angst #*writing #shoutout to megs dolls they’re gonna need a good 30 minutes of privacy #I dread to think what sort of shapes they’ve been smushed into

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