#i’m just hoping my kids don’t give me too much of a hard time for the rest of the day

[elliesbelle]

belle :D what's the best thing that happened to you today? anything that made you happy, no matter how small!

oops sorry for taking forever to answer this ask!

well, today’s been a bit stressful (most of my days are tbh), but while i was on my break just now at work, one of my best friends (she’s the therapist of one of my students) and i went for a brief drive (she drives a really nice sports car so we just went vroom vroom for a bit, temporarily cured my depression), and then we sat in the car and had a nice little vent session about work and our love lives and mental health. we both really needed it and it’s definitely gonna help me get through the rest of the day today 🤍

[sungstars]

slut me out | njm x fem!reader

i.e you needed to give your situationship the time of his life after seeing his instagram story.

word count: 2.8k (not proof read)

content warning: situationship, open ending, smut lol, oral (m. rec.), fingering (f. rec.), explicit sex, unprotected sex(no!), creampie, lmk if i missed anything thanks!

author's note: two fics in one day! can we believe this LOL. would you guys be surprised if i said that i have a mark one that i'm hoping to finish and it'll be queued up for tomorrow morning/afternoon. i hope you all enjoy this fic and as always, dedicated to my crazy and delusional bffs. likes & reblogs are appreciated as always. requests are open till october 5th! i'm still working on my jay fic, and hoping to have that out by tuesday!!

“you’re fucking crazy,” you said once the phone picked up after the first ring, “you can delete that story, i saw it.”

jaemin let out a hearty laugh, “hmm? but jisungie looks so cute, what if one of my followers wants me to put them on with him?”

you jeer, fingering hovering over the red button on the screen, “you definitely could’ve posted him without making sure your shirt is unbuttoned and they can see the chain that i bought you peeking through. what if they’re crazy like me?”

“don’t worry, nobody has you beat in that department.” jaemin added quickly, “you can come over if you want.”

did you want to? absolutely. you needed to rock his world so hard that it was likely to be rated a category 9.5 earthquake.

“you can come to me,” you quipped back, “and hurry up, i dont have a lot of patience. don’t change either.”

“you’re so demanding,” jaemin whined, a glint of playfulness evident in his voice, “i have to stop at my other hoe’s house first, but i’ll be there.”

“not even funny.” you hung up the phone, rolling your eyes.

focusing back on your room, you jumped up in a panic. you needed to change and also pick up the clothes you had thrown all over the place.

realistically, you didn’t know if jaemin was kidding about seeing somebody else first, but if he wasn’t, you had about twenty minutes including traffic before he got to your place.

you shoved all the loose piece of clothing into whatever drawer or laundry basket they would fit into. doing a once over your room, you were satisfied with what you were able to do.

looking at your floor length mirror, you didn’t care too much about what you had on. a big t-shirt with snoopy playing baseball on the front.

easy access for jaemin, but you should probably change your dingy halloween panties from victoria secret into something cute.

perhaps pink? that seemed on brand for tonight’s theme.

you were digging through your underwear drawer looking for that lacey pink thong you got from the mall a few weeks ago when you heard a knock on your door.

“fuck,” you said, slamming the drawer shut to no avail and rubbing your hands down your hair to smooth out any frizz, “fuck.”

the knocking got louder, causing you to practically trip on air as you ran to grab the door.

“took your sweet time letting me in,” jaemin pouted. leaning against the doorframe when you opened it, “that mad at me?”

rolling your eyes, you pulled him in by his silky pajama shirt and closing the door behind him, “guess she wasn’t that good if you got here within the same hour of calling.”

jaemin smiled, dropping down onto your couch and sliding his shoes off, “i’d say she was pretty damn good if i got done quickly and i’m not here.”

you crossed your arms, scoffing at his comment and began to walk to your bedroom.

“you’re such a dick.”

“i heard that,” he said, jumping off the couch to chase behind you, “i'm just kidding y/n, you know it's just you."

"are you sure? cause you keep making comments about other girls, are you trynna compensate? i don't care if you see other people."

jaemin laughed at you for the nth time this evening, making you want to just slam your bedroom door in his face and lock him out, but unfortunately for you, seeing jaemin in those pink pajamas and gold chain sent you into borderline ovulation.

you grabbed jaemin by the arm, leading him to sit on your bed and standing between his legs.

"it's just you," jaemin reassured, a hand coming up to rub your hip gently, "just like driving you crazy 'cause i know you're really fucking insane."

jaemin got a whiff of your secret cloud perfume as you leaned down and kissed his neck gently.

"i'm going to turn you every way but loose tonight," you whispered into his ear, teeth grazing the shell of his ear, "and i'm gonna show you how insane i am over you."

a shiver went down jaemin's back as you kissed down his neck and to his adam's apple, making sure to suck dark marks into his skin before placing your lips on his.

his arms wrapped your waist, pulling you down into his lap as he deepened the kiss. your hands found their way entangled into his brunette locks, moaning as he slipped his tongue into your mouth.

the two of you fought for dominance over the kiss, though jaemin just wanted to put up a good fight before letting you win.

you then slipped your tongue into his mouth, removing your hands from his hair and moving them down to his shoulders.

you gently pushed him back and onto the mattress, letting your fingers skillfully undo his pajama shirt, enjoying the smooth silk under your fingertips before pulling the shirt open.

jaemin pressed his hips up, hoping to get a small bit of friction on his growing erection and moaning when you rut your own hips down.

pulling away from the kiss, your chest heaved as you did a lookover his body. his plush lips swollen and glossy with spit, dark splots decorating his skin from earlier, his own defined chest moving rapidly as he tried to catch his own breath.

"you look so pretty under me, jaem," you complimented, your fingers dancing across his exposed collarbones and down his gold chain, "a sight only i should be allowed to see."

jaemin exhaled heavily through his nose, "a sight only for you. . please, don't stop. i want you. . i need you so badly, y/n."

how could you deny such a request from a pretty boy completely at your disposal? you weren't a cruel or dumb woman, so of course you'll comply.

you leaned down to attach your lips to his collarbone, biting and sucking gently as you made your way down his chest.

moving the pink fabric away, you let your tongue teasingly flick at his nipple to elicit a whiny moan from his mouth before taking his nipple between your lips.

"fuck y/n," he groaned, "that feels so good."

smirking to yourself, you pull off and stand up. the boy's eyes widened, trying to hold back another whine because why did you pull off? and why are you standing?

"c'mon," jaemin said, voice cracking slightly, "don't be a tease."

"a tease?" you titled your head as he sat up on his elbows, "if you beg, i'll consider."

a bright red hue cascaded over jaemin's face at your request, but he couldn't get any more pathetic than he already looked.

"y/n," he pleaded, "please do something. i am so undeniably hard, and if i don't feel those pretty lips or pretty hands wrapped around my dick that i know you love, i will implode and you'll be out of a bomb dick appointment and home."

a laugh escaped, jaemin really knew what to say to make you give into him. it's why you liked him honestly. he was funny and charming, and did in fact have a great dick that drove you insane. you used to be normal before he stuck his dick in you.

jaemin reached forward, grabbing your hand and placing it over his boner. that action alone could've made you cum in your panties because pathetic jaemin was probably your favorite jaemin.

you instinctively wrapped your fingers around it the best you could while it was restrained in those silky pants, slowly jerking him off and watching a bead of precum stain the fabric.

"see how hard i am?" he asked, breathily, "all for you. all because of you."

stroking your ego was one of the many things jaemin was good at, so you decided to play nicely and give him something to relief this tension you could feel growing in his body.

"take 'em off," you said, releasing his cock from your grip, moving back to give him room, "show me that pretty dick, jaem."

if you weren't standing in front of him, you were sure he would've fell face forward onto your carpet from how fast he was trying to get his pants down and off his hips.

once they were at his thighs, you leaned forward and placed a chaste kiss on his lips before sinking down to your knees.

you were face to face with jaemin's cock, the tip an angry shade of red and precum still leaking from his slit.

spit began to pool inside your mouth the longer you looked at it, and you stuck your tongue out to swipe the precum dribbling from his cock.

jaemin moaned out, hands gripping the sheets beneath him, “stop. . put it in your mouth.”

you furrowed your eyebrows and looked up, “don’t make demands.”

the brunette’s jaw ticked, one hand coming up to your hair and the other grabbing the base of his dick.

he pushed your head back roughly, tapping the head of his cock on your lips and smearing more precum across, “don’t be a fucking tease.”

your eyes widened in surprise at the switch in jaemin's demeanor, but instead of giving him a hard time, you complied by opening your mouth for him.

without hesitation, jaemin shoved his cock into your mouth until it hit the back of your throat which caused you to gag and tears well up in your eyes.

"don't get sensitive now," he mumbled, swiping the tears from your face, "now be good and suck. show me why you're my favorite."

his favorite? you should been his fuckin' only like he said you were earlier. what is up with the inconsistency? he's gonna piss you off.

you used your tongue to lick the under part of his cock, pulling off to leave just the tip in your mouth.

jaemin's grip on your hair tightened, trying his best to let you have control, but wanting nothing more than to just fuck your throat until you're sobbing.

you pulled completely off his cock, bringing your hand to jerk him off while you used your tongue to lick a stripe on his balls and gently suck.

the brunette's eyes rolled back, a string of moans and high pitched whines leaving his throat as you continued to toy with his balls.

whenever your hand reached the tip, you would squeeze every so slightly, causing him to fuck into your hand.

jaemin was close, and you could tell by the way he was whimpering and trying to chase your hand.

you looked up at him, smiling to yourself before pulling off his dick completely, basking in his borderline sob at the loss of contact.

"why did you stop?" tears welled up in his eyes, feeling like he would explode, "you're so fuckin' mean."

cooing, you wiped tears away from his eyes like he did earlier, "cause i knew you were close, jaem."

he sniffled, grabbing you and pinning you down onto the bed in one swift motion.

sometimes, you forget how strong he can be, causing you to get even more wet if that was possible. your panties were sticking almost uncomfortably to your cunt, and you were hoping he would do something to relief that soon.

too lost in your own thoughts of pleasure, you didn't even realize jaemin was pulling your t-shirt up until the cool air hit your nipples.

he used his lithe digits to roll your perked nipples around, causing you to squeal at the contact.

"love the panties," jaemin teased, using one of his hands to snap the waistband against your skin, "so cute and so soaked. god, you really get off from anything as long as it's me, huh?"

"you fuckin' wish," you tried to bite, but it came out as a whimper when he pressed his hand against your core, allowing for some friction of pleasure.

"shhh," he said, "can't even muster an ounce of niceness when i'm about to fuck you?"

jaemin flicked your nipples, smirking at your almost pained moan before moving down to take your underwear off, eyes watching how they were sticking to your sopping cunt, "so wet for me, hm?"

you nodded your head in compliance this time, "all for you."

he swiped a finger up your slit, bringing it to his mouth and licking it clean, "taste so sweet, but act so so mean towards nana, wonder why that is?"

you huffed, hooking a heel behind his thigh and pulling him close so his cock would make some contact with your cunt, a noise escaping your throat when the tip came into rough contact with your clit.

"that needy? what was it you said earlier? beg. beg for it, dumb whore."

degrading was something you and jaemin never tried, but with how effortlessly it slipped out of his mouth, you wish he would've done it sooner.

"jaem," you grinded against his cock, "please fuck me, y'know you want to. please, i need it so badly."

jaemin just looked at you unimpressed, dragging his cock up and down your cunt, looking at how you falter when his tip catches your sensitive bundle of nerves, "beg more."

you wanted to burst into tears, he knows how much you want him, he can feel how wet you are and probably at more slickness slipping out as he teased you, "nana, please put it in. i'll stop being mean, promise. i need your cock--i need you. please fuck me."

his left hand came up to smooth your hair out, smiling all his pearls at you as he slowly pushed the fat tip of his cock into you, finally.

jaemin slowly pushed himself into your cunt, moaning at how easily you took his cock, letting his hand fall from your hair and place pressure on your clit.

"it's like you were made for me, fuck" he gritted his teeth, thrusting shallowly into you, "taking me so well every time, your cunt just fuckin' sucks me in.. ha."

all you could do was moan in response, eyes rolling back when jaemin's gold chain smacked you in the nose, "fuck, too good."

jaemin rubbed your clit roughly as he picked his pace up, hips snapping against yours as your arousal ran down your thighs and his balls, creating a wet sound between the two of you.

you clenched around jaemin's cock, letting out high pitched noises of pleasure as he fucked you harshly, the knot in your stomach tightening and traveling down your pelvis.

"fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck" you cried, placing your hand on his lower abdomen and trying to push him away, but he quickly snatched it and held it above your head, "jaem, fuck, please, it's too much."

jaemin ignored your pleas, "y'know you can take it, stop trying to run from it."

when jaemin snapped his hips harshly once more, you felt that knot in your stomach break and ecstasy overtake your senses.

you couldn't even muster the feeling of embarassment from how good you felt when liquid practically sprayed your thighs and jaemin's abdomen.

the boy tapped the head of his cock on your clit, groaning loudly as you continued to squirt before roughly showing himself back into you.

"jaemin," you squealed, back arching up, "i can't! i can't."

"you can," he said, fucking you harshly, feeling himself getting closer and closer, "and you will take this dick. you wanna whine about other people havin' it so bad, take it, slut."

with jaemin fucking you so soon after an intense orgasm, all you could do was sob and mumble his name. it wasn't going to take you long to cum again, and jaemin could tell about how you were clenching on his dick.

your fingers dug into his shoulders, creating red crescents as his chain smacked you over and over again, his orgasm approaching any second.

"i'm so close, angel." he whined, his thrusts starting to stutter and slow down, "fuck, can i come inside please?"

"o-of course," you nodded your head, your own orgasm approaching once more, "please cum in me."

one more snap of jaemin's hips and he let out a loud moan, stilling himself as white hot ropes of his cum began to fill you and create a creamy ring around his cock, "fuck, you were too good."

he began to thrust slowly to ride out your orgasms, kissing your forehead and whispering sweet praises into your ear.

once you pushed his chest away to let him know he was overstimulating you, he pulled out completely and laid next to you, chest heaving rapidly.

"y/n." he turned on his side, "i really do like you."

you smiled, grabbing his hand and intertwining your fingers, "i really like you too jaemin."

he pressed a gentle kiss to your cheek and pulled you closer to him, "it's always been just you."

end!

[vampirq]

can we imagine modern au vi whos in a band fucking reader after a show 🙈🙈

৻ꪆ content warnings : smut , hair pulling , praise , strap usage (r receiving) , slight public , smallest mention of liquor , d/s dynamic if you squint like really hard . . .

৻ꪆ word count : 1k

you watched your girlfriend on stage, her black hair and make up complimenting the rock vibe of her songs. she’s an absolute show stopper, her vocals reverberating off the walls. the drums and guitar booming throughout the venue, and the people love it. 

they’re singing every lyric proudly, not once missing a word. moving their body to the rhythm of the song, some even screaming vi’s name in hopes of being replied to. you just laugh at their attempts, one person even yelled ‘have my kids’. yeah fucking right.

as she’s finishing up her last song, you make your way over to the neon lit bar, surrounded by fans and drunks. you greet the bartender, a young woman in her early 20’s. she has piercings scattered across her face with a dark red mullet to match. “it’s nice to see you around! vi is amazing on stage.” she exclaims with a warm smile on her face. 

“i know, i’m so proud of her!” you chirp back, taking a glance at all of the bottles of liquor behind her. 

“what can i get started for you?” she asks while handing you a menu, there’s so many options but you just settle for a cup of juice. you reach out for your wallet but it’s quickly declined, she insists it’s on the house.

“being vi’s girlfriend must have it’s perks, huh?” you giggle, taking a small sip from the glass container. the two of you get lost in conversation, talking about everything and nothing all at once. it’s only when the crowd erupts into cheers loudly and the main lights flip on, you look up.

“there’s my girl,” vi says, her voice hoarse and husky from her previous performance. she wraps her long, loving arms around your waist and lean down to give you a kiss on the cheek. 

you don’t know how the crowd isn’t bombarding her with questions or photos, but you don’t think too much into it, just respecting the respect the they have for you and vi. 

“you were great up there babe,” you compliment her, bringing your hand up to caress her cheek softly. you get lost in her eyes, those light silver irises could keep you in trance forever. 

“you think so?” she asks, tilting her head, her eyes as a big as a kids’ in a candy store. she was an absolute sucker for your praise and would do anything just to hear it. “or are you just saying that ‘cause you’re my number one fan?” 

“both,” you tease, sticking out the tip of your tongue. “but seriously, you were amazing, as always.”

vi chuckles, leaning in to press a kiss to your lips, ignoring the stares from the envious fans. “come hang out backstage with me. the girls wanna say hi, and i could use a little company.” she winks, dropping her voice a little lower. you roll your eyes, completely over her little childish antics, nevertheless you comply and follow her anyway.

“lead the way, rockstar,” you giggle, taking her hand in yours as she maneuvers the two of you throughout the crowd. occasionally waving or blowing kisses to her diehard fans. 

“mmmh, fuck vi. it’s, it’s too much — can’t take it,” a string of moans leaves your lips, eyes rolling into the back of your head. being pounded from behind mercilessly and every time you think she’ll slow down, she only speeds back up.

“yeah? too much for you, pretty girl? can’t take this fuckin’ cock?” she sputters out in between thrusts, her dominant tone has your legs trembling underneath her. the only thing keep you upright is her tight grip on your waist. 

vi struggles to maintain her composure. the feeling of the base of her strap grinding against her clit has her stumbling over sentences. she reaches her hand over to toy with your clit, rubbing sloppy circles. the scene is downright pornographic, the two of you fucking like wild animals.

“feel so good baby, haah — mmffhh, such a good girl,” she grabs a fistful of your hair, making your back arch completely. her thrusts are erractic and hard, chasing her own high with yours. “gon’ cum, gonna cum all over this sweet pussy.” 

vi’s grunts grow louder as her pace becomes desperate, the sight of you all fucked out for her brings her closer to the edge. “yeah, take it — take all of it, ma,” she growls through gritted teeth, slips of whines and moans escape her throat, almost harmonizing with yours.

“vi, fuck — i’m —“ your voice cuts off with a loud cry, your body trembles, nails digging into the plush of the couch in front of you. your orgasm crashes over you, waves of pleasure coursing throughout your body. vi whimpers loudly behind you, her hips stuttering as she slams down into you, riding out your high while grinding into the strap chasing her own climax.

“fuck,” she breathes, her thrusts slowing down to a stop before she pulls out completely. she leaves a trail of kisses down your spine, starting at the peak of your ass ending at your neck. “you’re so perfect love, my sweet girl,” she whispers in between kisses. the affection makes your heart jump, instantly becoming flustered from her loving words. 

you turn your head slightly to look at her, your cheeks flushed and lips parted. “you’re insane,” you mutter with a soft smile, dropping your head to rest in between your shoulders. 

vi smirks, leaning in to kiss your shoulder. “only for you, pretty girl.”

[welikeimagines-andfandoms]

Drunk Mistake- Bucky x Reader

Summary: Bucky kinda messes up when he pushes you off of him when you try to kiss him at a party

Word count: 1, 321

*want to be tagged in my next Bucky fic? Click here*

Bucky wasn’t really that close with Y/N, she was more like an acquaintance, sometimes a friend…. Oh who was he kidding! He was pretty much in love with her! Every time she talked to him, he felt like he was in heaven, and at parties like this it was even worse.

He’d been watching you laughing with your friends, dancing with the girls and ignoring the advances of fellow agents. He’s drawn to you like a moth to a flame, that his eyes can’t help but always find you in a room.

He enjoyed seeing you have so much fun, and there was no harm in keeping an eye on a friend. But once you began to dance again, Bucky knew he had to get out of there.

The way your body moved to the music was becoming too much for him. Your skin had a light layer of sweat, and the way you bit your lip and your eyes found his, he wouldn’t be able to control himself if he stuck around.

His plan seemed to be working as he sat in a quiet corner on one of the top landings, but as he saw you sauntering over to him, your shoes now missing, he knew he was in trouble.

“Hey, James,” you say with a cute drunk voice.

As you sit beside him, you swing your legs over one of his thighs, and hold his hand. Your other hand comes up to run your fingers through his hair, the alcohol in your system obviously making you more touchy than normal.

Bucky tried hard to shift his hips so you wouldn’t feel how hard you were making him, your sweet touch burning a fire in him.

“Why you hiding up here, baby?” You ask sweetly but seductively as you stroke along his cheek.

Oh god don’t call him that. The sweet pet name going straight to his hardening dick as he painfully swallows a moan.

The pet name really did get his attention, as he now properly faced you. His eyes flicker from yours to your chest, that you push out further as you become more and more brave. He licks his lips as his eyes find yours once again and you bite your lip as your touches now become even more forward.

Pushing yourself onto his lap, your fingers now dig into his hair as your face slowly comes closer to kiss him.

This is what Bucky has dreamt of, what he stays up at night fantasying about. God he wants you so badly, but he can’t, not while you’re drunk, not like this.

It takes every ounce of restraint Bucky has to push you off of him and back onto the couch. As he looks at you to explain, he sees a deep hurt in your eyes, as tears begin to well. Suddenly his words are lost, and his heart aches at your saddened state, and all he can do is walk off, leaving you there.

******

It had been a couple days since the incident at the party, and you could not have been more mortified. When you woke up the next morning you remembered everything, and ever since then you’ve been avoiding not just Bucky, but everyone.

You’d escape to the training trails around the avengers compound most days, literally running to escape your problems.

As you reach the summit of one of the hardest trails, you don’t notice that Nat had followed you up there. Catching your breath, you turn to sit down when Nat’s sudden appearance scares you half to death.

“Fuck sake, Nat! Scared the shit outta me! Were you following me?” The run seeming to give you more adrenaline than the endorphins that you hoped for.

“Okay something is definitely wrong, you’ve never yelled at me like that before. What’s wrong, sunshine?” Your friend asks, her once cocky smirk fading away.

“It’s, it’s nothing, I’m sorry for going off at you,” you try to push past her, but expectedly she didn’t let you.

“No it’s not nothing. I’m your friend, you can talk to me,” she tries to coax soothingly.

Looking into her eyes you knew you wouldn’t win. As you let out a big sigh you go back to sit on a large rock.

“It’s-it’s a little embarrassing, but um-heh. So at the party the other night, I-I tried to kiss James.”

“Finally! Wait tried to? What happened?”

“Well,” your eyes start to tear up as you remember the way he treated you, “I guess you were wrong about how he felt, because he pushed me off of his lap and left without a word.” You manage to push out, tears fully running down your face now.

Looking up you see a seething fury on your friends face.

“I’m gonna kill him,” Nat announces assertively as she runs off.

“Wait, Nat! No!” You panic as you try to run after her.

*****

By the time you make it back to the compound and find her, you’re mortified to see a troop of your female friends surrounding the poor super soldier.

“What the fuck is wrong with you?” Nat berates.

“Y/N, is hot as fuck!” Yelena defends you.

“You’d be lucky to have someone like her and you just push her away!” Wanda rages at him as a red glow begins to appear on her hands.

“Okay, okay! That’s enough! Thank you for coming to my rescue and I love you all but maybe it’s time to leave so we can talk,” you manage to calm the situation before Wanda could blow him up.

All three women look at you, then glare at Bucky before filing out of the room.

As you look into Buckys eyes you see they’re full of shame, and the embarrassment and self doubt begins to flood back.

“Hey, look, um- ignore them. You don’t have to apologise, I understand why you-“

“They’re right,” Bucky interrupts your self loathing rambling, “I would be lucky to have someone as wonderful as you and now I’ve ruined my chances with a beautiful woman.” Bucky sighs as he looks at you shamefully.

“What?” You ask, shocked and a little nervous at his confession.

Walking closer, Bucky stands before you and slowly looks into your eyes.

“I really like you and when you wanted to kiss me I got scared. You were drunk and I didn’t want to take advantage of you. I mean I wanted our first kiss to be special, as stupid as that sounds.”

Smiling up at his handsome face, your confidence returns with a fury as one of your hands holds the back of his neck, and the other squeezes his bicep. The contact makes Buckys eyes go wide as he looks at you.

“Well, would in the kitchen while I’m covered in sweat and my friends just yelled at you count as a special first kiss, or should I wait for you to dazzle me with fireworks and roses?” You cheekily ask as your face comes closer to his.

Buckys arms wrap around your waist as he chuckles.

“Just kiss me already,” he answers cheekily as his lips push heatedly against yours.

Butterflies erupt in your stomach as Bucky holds you tightly, the kiss filling you with excitement. The excitement however turning into announce as you hear your friends clapping and cheering, both Kate and Maria now joining their gang.

“Shut up and leave!” You laugh at your friends as Bucky awkwardly smiles.

“Okay but remember Tony has security cameras so no fucking in the kitchen,” Natasha sasses as the girls finally leave you both alone.

“Well there goes my plan,” Bucky cheekily and seductively whispers as he begins to kiss your neck.

“You know, James, I still need a shower.”

The idea of a shower with you causes Bucky to groan against your neck.

“Fuck, doll, you have no idea how long I’ve waited for that.”

[luveline]

Hotch request! Please sir, can I have a Hotch request? I'm trying to follow what you said about comfort but also Hotch being angry. So I get low blood sugars cause of my diabetes and I'd love if you wrote something about them being on a case and BAU!Reader is really busy trying to get stuff done, so she has a bad low blood sugar and sits down but one of the local officers thinks she's slacking off so she tries to keep going and Hotch comes in and defends her, making sure she has everything she needs and doesn't faint. Love you <3

ty for requesting!! hope this is okay <3 fem, 1.3k

“I understand.” You frown, phone pressed to your ear hard. “I totally understand, but it’s really important that I get to talk to her.” 

“She’s on heavy medication,” the nurse replies, unimpressed by your asking, “she wouldn’t be much use anyhow.” 

“I understand, but–”

“Listen, I’m sorry, but we have a lot to do here. I’m sorry we can’t help. Bye.” 

You groan in frustration, bringing your phone from your ear to see the Call Disconnected notification flash across your screen. How are you and the team ever supposed to get answers if nobody wants to help? Your head rushes. You kid yourself into believing it’s annoyance like a hot flash, you’ve been sweaty for ages, but then reality cuts through. What usually makes you sweaty and dizzy?

“Where’s my test kit?” you murmur to yourself. 

The door opens while you’re looking through your bag. 

“Agent,” Officer Debs greets, a stout, sturdy woman with sharp eyes, “any news from Georgetown Psychiatric?” 

You rummage frustratedly through your things. You should know better than to misplace your test kit. Doesn’t matter. You’ll just have to eat something quickly before you get any worse. “Uh, no, nothing they could help me with.” 

“Did you call them?” 

Your eyelids are getting heavier. You sit down on impulse, worried you’re gonna fall if you stay standing. “Yeah, I called them.” You’ve had diabetes for long enough to know what to do, but it’s always harder than it felt the last time when your blood sugar drops. It can be so sudden. 

Realising you might need help, you clear your throat, about to ask Officer Debs if she can get the glucose tablets from your bag. You should’ve grabbed them —your thoughts are starting to thicken like someone’s poured cornflour into your skull. 

“Is now the best time for a break?” Officer Debs asks. 

You focus very hard on bringing your attention into the present. “No, sorry,” you say, standing up. You open your phone and direct to the contacts page, clicking your favourite contact at the very top. 

Don’t know m where test kit is, you text clumsily. Hotch should still be in the precinct. Do u have it ? 

“I hope you’re texting someone about the case,” Officer Debs says sternly. 

You shove your phone into your pocket. “Um,” you say, getting confused now, and not wanting to be shouted at. You grab for the page of phone numbers you’d been making your way through, can’t get your hands to work. “I wasn’t. But I’m getting to it.” 

“We really don’t have time to waste.” 

“I know, but my blood sugar–”

She talks over you. “What’s the point in all our officers working day and night when you FBI agents can’t be bothered to put in the same effort?” Her voice rises. “It’s ridiculous!”

“It’s not ridiculous, we’re trying our best just like you are.”

“Clearly not!” 

“My blood sugar,” you say, more insistently. “Stop shouting at me.” 

The door opens quickly, creaking hard on its hinge. Hotch doesn’t slam it open, he never slams anything, but he doesn’t hesitate either. “I have it, you left it in the car after you tested this morning,” he says, your kit in his hand. He gives Officer Debs a surprised up and down. “Who’s shouting?” he asks, unimpressed. 

You wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. “Hotch, I need a tablet.” 

If he’s shocked at your lethargy, he doesn’t say. He ignores the officer from that point on. “Yes, I think so, too.” 

Hotch is more efficient than you were, grabbing your tube of glucose tablets and shaking one out into his hand. “Can you take it yourself?” 

“You want to chew it for me?” you ask. 

He tips it into your palm. “Very funny.” 

He opens the test kit on the desk and starts to extract the pieces. It’s quite complicated, especially for people unfamiliar with it, but you’re pretty sure Hotch learned how to use it the day he knew you had diabetes. He wipes his hands with an alcohol wipe and presses a test strip into the meter, careful not to touch the end, before wiping your finger with a new wipe, and readying the lancing stick. 

“Gonna stick you, okay?” he asks quietly.

“Mm,” you hum, the glucose tablet like chalk between your teeth. 

He sticks you. Some days it feels more painful than other days, but today it’s like a pinprick in a haze. He squeezes your finger, wipes the first drop of blood with a cotton ball, and dips the test strip into the second bead of blood, careful not to jab your cut. 

In the five seconds it takes for you to get a result on the meter, he kneels down, pressing another cotton ball to your finger to stem the flow of blood. “Good,” he murmurs to you. The meter flashes on the table. “Not so good. Fifty nine, huh? How’d that happen?” 

You shake your head slowly from one side to another. “I’ve no idea.” 

“Okay. Well, that tablet’s not gonna do it, honey. Do you have any gels?” 

“No,” you say apologetically. 

“That’s fine. I’ll get you a drink.” 

Officer Debs clears her throat. You may be foggy, but her awkwardness is palpable. “I’ll get it.”

“It has to be full sugar. Coke, if you can,” Hotch says. She nods in understanding and leaves in record time. Hotch turns back to you, his severity melting away. “She was shouting at you?”

“Tried to tell her about my blood sugar. She told me we’re not here to waste time.” You close your mouth, licking the glucose off of your teeth.

“How did you get so low?” he asks.

“Must have done something wrong this morning. Am I okay?” 

“We’ll see. I think you’ll be alright.” 

“Don’t usually get so dizzy.” 

“When was the last time you were below seventy?” 

“Don’t know,” you mumble. 

Hotch peels the cotton ball from your finger and packs your things away cleanly. “Let’s see how you feel in ten minutes. After your coke. Now… what did the Officer say to you?” 

He’s getting his facts straight. Again, you wouldn’t like to be on his bad side. You relay your conversation, Officer Debs hadn’t even been that bad, just uppity, stuck on her own assumptions rather than willing to listen when you’d needed a hand. Her lack of empathy could’ve really affected you. Low blood sugar is no joke. 

You tell him, savouring in the warmth of his hand on your leg, how uncaring he is to be kneeling in front of you on the precinct floor. He frowns at you long and hard. 

By the time Officer Debs returns, he’s on his feet again. “A word?” he asks her. 

You don’t hear all of what he’s saying through the door as you sip your coke. He doesn’t shout, but he defends you with a heavy gravity. Officer Debs speaks up and he cuts her down, something about understanding, and then a more clear telling off, “I don’t want to hear about Agent L/N’s performance from you again. She’s my agent, and if she needs a break, she’ll take one. It’s none of your concern.” 

“I understand.” 

You feel much peppier when he comes back in, though he appears less so. “You’re nasty,” you say, smiling, happy to be defended, and happier to know you’re not gonna pass out.

He crosses the room. Still frowning, he takes your face into his hands, and he leans down inch by inch, until he’s pressing a soft, soft kiss to your lips. You barely have time to close your eyes before he’s pulling away, thumb pressed into your soft cheek. “Nobody gets to shout at you. Especially over your blood sugar.” 

“It’s usually you telling me off for letting it get low,” you mumble. 

He stands up straight, leaving you wanting for another kiss you won’t get, hands stolen back from your cheeks. “You’re ageing me prematurely. Drink some more coke, please, sweetheart.” 

“What do I get in return?” 

He touches your face briefly, as much of a promise as you’re going to get. 

[yanderenightmare]

Reo Mikage & Nagi Seishiro

♡ TW: nsfw, doubt, misunderstanding

♡ FEM reader

Thinking about how, drunk one night after partying with some of your boyfriend Reo’s teammates and watching him and Nagi sing one too many karaoke songs in each other’s arms, you make a dumb joke about how if they wanted to fuck, you’d be down to watch.

He doesn’t answer, and your eyes are already closed, ready to fall asleep, so you don’t see the look he gives you—peeled eyes already picturing it.

You think nothing of it when he rolls over you a few moments later, feeling hornier than usual. You’re too drunk and tired to put much effort back into it, but Reo doesn’t seem to mind—holding you close while panting at your ear, being clingier than usual. You just blame it on the drink.

Nagi’s Reo’s best friend and roommate, so it’s not strange for them to be close. Nor is it strange for the three of you to hang out, either. It’s just… somehow, the vibe feels a little weird after that night. You’re not sure why, but every time you come over, it’s as if there’s this expectation in the air, as if they’re waiting for something.

The three of you are drinking one night not long after. And that odd feeling you’d been feeling lately quickly disappears along with the first few cans of beer. Everything feels normal. The three of you watch a movie, talk a bit, and have a few laughs, and after switching to something stronger, you all end up sitting on the floor, passing the last of the bottle around like college kids. Good ol’ times.

And then Nagi kisses you.

“What the fuck?”

You jolt back, and the empty bottle rolls across the floor.

There’s a standstill as you ask yourself what just happened, believing the question is more than clearly expressed on your face. But, instead of apologizing or explaining himself, Nagi just looks at Reo, causing you to look at him as well. And that strange feeling reappears—the one that tells you there’s something you’re missing.

“What’s going on?” you decide to break the silence since neither of them was bothering to clue you in, keeping your eyes trained on Reo, giving him a glare, demanding he explain himself.

His voice is low, a little embarrassed perhaps, and a little suggestive in the way he speaks as if hoping you’d take his meaning without further clarification, “You said you wouldn’t mind if Seishi joined us...” 

It completely stunts you, head entirely blank for a second or a few until it settles, and you backtrack to that night a week ago. 

“What?” You shake your head with an off-put and perplexed grimace. “That was a joke!”

You sit there then, feeling weird all over—seeing only one conclusion after wracking your brain.

“Oh my god!” you exclaim and get up in a hurry. “I can’t believe this—if the two of you want to fuck, get your butts out of the closet and do it already!” You storm off, flushed and mortified beyond repair, muttering loudly, “Can’t believe you’re dragging me into this. I’m going home. Never call me.”

You’re stopped before you get very far. Reo’s hand around your upper arm is not too hard but enough to make you halt despite your determined stomping. Needing to get out of there quick before the tears could come—you can’t believe you’ve been someone beard all this time. Can’t believe he’d string you along like this, use you, and you actually thought you loved–

“You got it all wrong,” he insists, pulling you back to look at him. “It’s not Seishi and me.”

“I mean, how would we? We’re both tops,” Nagi adds, only a step behind.

You bite your lip. So confused you’re sputtering when you ask, “What then? So, you want a threesome? Is that what this is about?”

Reo laughs nervously—something he never does—saying, “Not exactly...” 

You can’t say he’s being of much help. “Then what?”

“Y’know…” 

He’s blushing profusely in a manner you’ve never before seen. 

He can’t even look at you as he bows down and whispers in your ear,  “I want to watch.”

♡ MISCELLANEOUS masterlist

[wvyik]

quit pouting, winchester’ d.w. ꩜ .ᐟ

dean winchester x fem! reader

summary; dean gets all jealous over something super dumb (he’d never admit it though), and ends up pouting until you kiss him to make him stop being so ridiculous.

warnings; a hint of possessiveness, jealousy with unreasonable doubts, (duh) make out sesh, but other than that — just pure fluff, because this man is soft for you no matter how much he tries to act tough. don’t kiss and drive kids!!

notes; this is my first fic ever!! send some love. thanks so much for reading through my yap sesh. ꒰ᐢ. .ᐢ꒱

words; 1008

Dean Winchester is pouting.

And, yeah, he’d probably rather die than admit it, but it’s so obvious it’s almost embarrassing. Arms crossed, jaw tight, barely sparing you a glance as he sulks in the driver’s seat of the Impala. You’d think you just crashed Baby into a brick wall with how pissed he looks.

“De.. what is wrong with you?” you finally ask, leaning against the window to look at him.

“Nothin’,” he mutters, gripping the steering wheel like it personally offended him. Nothing, my ass.

You narrow your eyes. “Dean.”

“Nothin’, i already told you.” he repeats, this time with even less conviction.

You huff, shifting in your seat so you’re fully facing him now. “Oh my God, you are such a bad liar.”

He scoffs. “I’m a great liar, trust me.”

“Not to me.”

And, that shuts him up for a second. His fingers tighten on the wheel, his mouth pressing into that stubborn, self-righteous little frown he gets whenever he knows he’s losing but refuses to admit it.

You smirk, slowly realizing what could be the cause of his state. “Oh my God, you’re jealous.”

Dean’s head snaps toward you so fast you think he might give himself whiplash. “What?”

You lean in, grinning now. “You totally are.” you say with a soft chuckle, as if the thought of him being jealous is the most hilarious thing in the whole world.

He rolls his eyes, trying so hard to play it cool, but his ears are so red. “Pfft. Yeah, right.”

“You so are.”

Dean exhales sharply, turning his attention back to the road like the empty highway is the most interesting thing he’s ever seen. You can practically hear the gears turning in his head, trying to figure out how to dig himself out of this one.

“You’re acting all weird,” you point out, watching him squirm. “You’ve been quiet for the last hour. You barely even yelled at that dude who cut you off.”

Dean clenches his jaw. He knows you’ve got him.

“So,” you press, “what’s got your panties in a twist, huh?” As if you already don’t know.

He grumbles something under his breath. Oh, he’s embarrassed. You could tell.

You blink. “What?”

More grumbling.

“Dean.” you repeated, hoping for him to finally speak up.

He exhales roughly, hands flexing on the steering wheel. Then, finally, he mutters, “Nothin’. Just— dude was flirting with you, ‘s all.”

You blink. Then blink again. “Are you talking about the gas station cashier?” Dean says nothing. Which is an answer in itself. Oh, this is too good.

You burst out laughing. “Oh my God, Dean, he barely said two words to me.”

“Yeah? And he was lookin’ at you like a damn puppy,” Dean grumbles. “Like he had a shot.”

You shake your head, biting back a smile. “That is so stupid.”

“Yeah, well.” He shrugs, jaw still tight. “‘S stupid to you.”

And okay, yeah, now you kind of feel bad, because he’s being ridiculous, but also kind of… sad about it? Not that he’d ever admit it, but the way he’s gripping the wheel, the way his lips are pressed tight like he’s trying to keep everything in—he actually cares about this. About you.

Which means he deserves to suffer just a little longer.

You scoot closer, pressing your chin to his shoulder. “You know you’re the only one I want, right?”

Dean stays silent, but you feel the way his grip on the wheel loosens. His jaw twitches when you press a slow, lingering kiss to his cheek. You smirk. Oh, he’s melting.

So, you push further, brushing your lips along the sharp edge of his jaw, taking your sweet time. You can feel the tension in him shift— not gone, but different. Like he’s holding his breath, waiting for what you’ll do next.

He clears his throat, but his voice comes out rough. “Yeah. ‘Course.”

You hum, letting your lips trail just a little lower. “Then quit pouting.”

“I ain’t—”

You shut him up with a proper kiss.

And at first, he barely moves—like he wasn’t expecting it, like it takes him a second to catch up. But the second he does, oh, you’ve got him.

Dean exhales through his nose, tilting his head to meet you fully, and then he’s kissing you like he’s making up for lost time. His hand finally lets go of the steering wheel, landing firm and warm against your thigh, fingers flexing like he’s grounding himself.

You don’t hesitate to deepen it, shifting in your seat to turn toward him, your hand moving up to cup his jaw. He’s warm, rough with stubble, and you take your time exploring it, feeling the way his breath stutters when you scrape your nails lightly along the edge.

Dean groans— low, quiet, but wrecked— and then he’s pulling you closer, his other hand coming up to cradle the back of your neck. The Impala swerves slightly.

You pull back just enough to whisper, breathless, “Dean, focus.”

“Tryin’,” he mutters, voice low and strained. “You’re makin’ it real hard, sweetheart.”

You grin, fingers tangling in the short hair at the nape of his neck. “Ain’t that the point?..”

Dean exhales sharply, like he’s trying so hard to keep his cool, but he’s losing. And you? You’re having the time of your life watching him come undone.

You lean in again, kissing him slow and deep, dragging it out just to make him suffer. He sighs into it, fingers pressing just a little tighter into your skin, like he doesn’t want to let go.

Eventually— reluctantly— you pull back, just enough to look at him. His pupils are almost brown in this lightning, lips pink and kiss-swollen, chest rising and falling a little faster than before.

You smirk. “Told you you were pouting.”

Dean exhales, shaking his head with a grumble—but the way he looks at you? The way his thumb traces absently against your knee, like he’s memorizing the shape of you?

Yeah. You definitely won this one.

⤿ wanna be tagged in my fics?.. don't be shy! @ taglist.

tysm for reading! more works incoming @ library. ⊹₊⟡⋆

[kaiyunsim]

after the storm —

pairing : bully!ni-ki x student!reader (no pronouns used)

summary : you run into the infamous bully, nishimura riki and eventually get partnered with him as well.

warnings : fluff, enemies-to-lovers, angst if you squint hard enough, featuring boynextdoor’s myung jaehyun, aespa’s karina, jay, jake, and heeseung.

a/n : first ‘long’ fic. i hope you guys enjoy it !! i love enemies to lovers so much :] (my gift to you guys during finals season)

queueing : after the storm - kali uchis, tyler the creator, bootsy collins

— wc : 5.4k — not proof read —

you don’t mean for it to happen. really, you don’t. but monday mornings are the worst, and the crowded hallways of your school aren’t much better. your arms are weighed down with textbooks, and you’re running late to class because karina begged you to grab coffee with her before school.

the chaos of the hallway hits you like a wave as you round the corner—students yelling, slamming lockers, rushing to class. you’re too focused on navigating the crowd to notice the tall figure directly in your path until it’s too late.

your shoulder collides with someone’s arm, and there’s a sudden, sharp gasp followed by the unmistakable sound of liquid spilling. you freeze, looking down to see a large coffee stain spreading across pristine white sneakers.

"you’ve got to be kidding me," comes the irritated voice, sharp and cutting. you look up to find yourself face-to-face with nishimura riki—or ni-ki, as everyone calls him.

he’s infamous. the type of guy who can get away with murder just by flashing his signature smirk. tall, broad-shouldered, and perpetually annoying, ni-ki has a reputation for making people’s lives just a little harder than they need to be.

"what, no apology?" he snaps, glaring down at you. it felt like it was piercing a hole into you with how intimidating it felt.

"sorry," you mutter, trying to sidestep him, but he moves to block your way.

"sorry doesn’t clean my shoes," he says, lifting one foot to inspect the damage. his tone is sharp, but there’s something about the way his lips quirk up that makes it clear he’s enjoying this.

but you’re not in the mood to deal with his shit right now, "maybe if you weren’t standing in the middle of the hallway like you own the place, this wouldn’t have happened," you snap back, your irritation getting the better of you.

his smirk widens, and he tilts his head, clearly amused. "oh, so you do have a spine. didn’t think you’d bite back."

the comment makes your blood boil, but you force yourself to stay calm. "are you done? i’m late for class."

he steps aside with a mock bow, sweeping his arm dramatically. "by all means, don’t let me stop you. but maybe try walking without causing a disaster next time." he says, the last few words more teasing than the others

you glare at him, giving him a side-eye and refusing to let him get the last word. "maybe next time, you can stop being a walking inconvenience."

you don’t wait for his response, pushing past him and disappearing into the crowd. even as you walk away, you can feel his eyes on you, that smug smirk of his practically burned into your memory.

later that morning, you’re venting to jaehyun and karina at lunch.

"he’s such an ass," you complain, stabbing your fork into your salad. "he acted like i spilled coffee on him on purpose."

karina raises an eyebrow, sipping her iced tea. "ni-ki? yeah, he’s like that. he likes messing with people, especially if they react."

"and you definitely reacted," jaehyun adds with a laugh. "i mean, come on, you basically called him a walking inconvenience."

"because he is," you argue. "i swear, i don’t know how anyone puts up with him."

karina shrugs. "jake, jay, and heeseung seem to like him well enough. maybe he’s different around his friends."

you roll your eyes. "or maybe they’re just as bad as he is."

jaehyun chuckles, but karina gives you a knowing look. "just be careful. he’s the type to hold grudges, and i’ve seen him turn teasing into a full-blown hobby."

"great," you mutter, already regretting your choice to snap at him.

—

it’s the next day, and you’ve successfully avoided ni-ki all morning. you’re starting to think you’ve dodged a bullet… until english class rolls around.

you’re barely settled in your seat when the teacher announces a new group project. the groans from your classmates echo through the room as she begins listing the pairs.

"let’s see... y/n, you’ll be with nishimura riki."

you freeze, your eyes widening in disbelief. you whip your head around just in time to see ni-ki’s face light up with a smug grin.

“you’ve got to be fucking kidding with me,” you mutter quietly to yourself

"looks like we’re partners," he says, sliding into the seat next to you.

"this has to be a joke," you mutter under your breath.

"nope, pretty sure it’s fate," he says, leaning back in his chair. "guess you’ll have to get used to me."

you shoot him a glare. "you’re insufferable."

"and you’re stuck with me," he says, unbothered.

later that afternoon, you’re sitting in the library, waiting for ni-ki to show up for your first project meeting. you’re determined to keep things professional—finish the project and avoid him as much as possible.

but of course, he shows up fifteen minutes late, strolling in like he owns the place.

"you’re late," you say, not bothering to hide your annoyance.

"fashionably late," he corrects, dropping into the seat across from you. "besides, you’re so eager. it’s kind of cute."

you ignore the comment, pulling out your notes. "let’s just get this over with."

he raises an eyebrow, leaning forward. "wow, you’re really fun to work with, huh?" he says sarcastically.

"if you actually helped instead of wasting time, maybe i would be," you snap.

he laughs, shaking his head. "relax. i’ll help. what do you need me to do?"

you narrow your eyes at him, suspicious of his sudden cooperation. but you hand him a set of notes anyway, deciding to give him the benefit of the doubt… for now.

as you work, you can’t help but notice the occasional glances he throws your way, the way his smirk softens when he thinks you’re not looking. it’s almost enough to make you question your first impression of him.

keyword: almost.

—

you tell yourself you can survive this project. a few study sessions, a presentation, and then you’ll never have to deal with nishimura riki again. but as the days pass, you realize it’s not going to be that simple.

the second study session doesn’t start off any better than the first. you’re sitting at the same library table, waiting for ni-ki, who, predictably, is late again. you’ve just started debating whether or not to text him when he finally strolls in, looking completely unbothered.

"you really need to work on your time management," you say as he drops into the chair across from you.

"and you need to work on your patience," he fires back, flashing that infuriating grin.

you groan, pulling out the project materials. "can we just get this done? the sooner we finish, the sooner i can stop seeing your face."

he pretends to clutch his chest. "ouch. and here i thought we were bonding."

"bonding?" you repeat, raising an eyebrow. "you’ve done nothing but annoy me since day one."

"exactly," he says, leaning back in his chair. "it’s called building rapport."

you roll your eyes, choosing to ignore him and focus on the task at hand.

despite the rocky start, you manage to get some work done. to your surprise, ni-ki actually contributes… when he’s not cracking jokes or making sarcastic comments, anyway.

"so, about this section," he says, gesturing to the notes in front of you. "do you think we should focus more on the analysis or the context?"

you blink, caught off guard by the seriousness in his tone. for a moment, he actually seems... focused.

"uh, the analysis, probably," you say, regaining your composure. "it ties everything together better."

he nods, scribbling something down in his notebook.

you study him for a moment, curious despite yourself. "you actually care about this?"

he looks up, smirking. "what, surprised i have a brain?"

"a little," you admit, earning a laugh from him.

"guess i’ll just have to keep impressing you," he says, and while his tone is teasing, there’s something in his expression that feels almost genuine.

the cracks in his facade start showing during the third study session. it’s late, and the library is quiet except for the soft rustling of papers and the occasional sigh from ni-ki.

"you’re awfully quiet," you say, glancing at him. "what’s wrong? run out of sarcastic comments?"

he snorts, but his usual grin doesn’t reach his eyes. "just tired, i guess."

you hesitate, not used to this version of him. "long day?"

he shrugs, tapping his pen against the table. "something like that."

the mood shifts, and for a brief moment, you see past the cocky exterior. the ni-ki who’s not always so sure of himself, who might actually have a soft side buried somewhere deep.

but just as quickly as it appeared, it’s gone. he flashes you a smirk and says, "don’t worry, though. i’m still smarter than you."

"and just like that, you ruined it," you say, rolling your eyes.

he laughs, the tension broken, but the moment lingers in the back of your mind.

—

the night before the project is due, you and ni-ki are sitting in the living room of your dorm, putting the final touches on your presentation. your friends are busy, leaving just the two of you to finish everything.

"we actually make a decent team," ni-ki says, leaning back on the couch.

you glance at him, surprised. "that’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me."

"don’t get used to it," he says with a grin, but there’s a softness to his tone that makes you pause.

"why do you do that?" you ask suddenly, the question slipping out before you can stop yourself.

"do what?"

"act like... this," you say, gesturing vaguely. "like you don’t care about anything."

he blinks, clearly caught off guard. "what makes you think i don’t care?"

"because you never take anything seriously," you say. "you’re always joking or teasing people, like it’s all just a game to you."

he’s quiet for a moment, his usual smirk replaced by something more thoughtful. "maybe it’s easier that way," he says finally.

"easier than what?"

he shrugs, avoiding your gaze. "easier than letting people see the parts of you they can use against you."

his words hit you harder than you expect. you’d never considered that there might be a reason behind his behavior. that his teasing and sarcasm might be a shield instead of just his personality.

"that sounds lonely," you say softly.

he looks at you then, his eyes meeting yours in a way that feels too intense, too vulnerable. "maybe it is."

the silence stretches between you, heavy with unspoken words. for the first time, you see ni-ki not as the cocky, infuriating guy who spilled coffee on his shoes, but as someone who’s more complex than he lets on.

"you don’t have to do that with me," you say quietly, the words surprising even yourself.

he stares at you for a moment, his expression unreadable. then he smiles. small and genuine, without a hint of sarcasm. "thanks," he says, and you can tell he means it.

the next day, the two of you present your project in class. it goes off without a hitch, and for once, ni-ki actually seems serious and focused.

"we did pretty good," he says afterward as you’re packing up your things.

"we did," you agree, and for the first time, you smile at him without any sarcasm or annoyance.

he grins back, but there’s something different in the way he looks at you now—something warmer, softer.

"guess i’ll see you around," he says, slinging his bag over his shoulder.

"yeah," you say, watching as he walks away.

you’re not sure what’s changed between you, but you know one thing for certain: this is only the beginning.

—

the weekend has finally arrived, and after a long week of school, you’re more than ready for some peace and quiet. your dorm room is a sanctuary of calm, with soft lighting, cozy blankets, and a pile of books waiting to be read. jaehyun and karina are out with their own plans, leaving you alone to unwind.

you’ve just made yourself a cup of tea and are settling in with a book when you hear a soft knock on your door.

"coming!" you call, setting your tea down and pushing yourself up from the couch. you open the door, expecting to find one of your friends—or maybe a neighbor—but instead, you’re met with a familiar face.

ni-ki stands in the doorway, looking far too pleased with himself.

"ni-ki?" you say, blinking in surprise. "what are you doing here?"

"well, i was just walking by," he says casually, although you can tell by the way his eyes sparkle that he has an ulterior motive. "and i thought, hey, maybe i could hang out."

you stare at him for a moment, unsure whether to laugh or roll your eyes. "how did you even know where i live?"

"oh, that was easy," he says, grinning. "i just asked karina for your address."

you can’t help but stare at him. "you bribed karina for my address?"

"not bribed," he says, feigning innocence. "i just asked really nicely."

"she gave it to you?" you ask, incredulous.

"yeah," he shrugs. "she said it was no big deal. something about ‘you two are friends now,’ i don’t know."

you lean against the doorframe, still processing. she probably just decided to give it to annoy you, "and you thought i’d just let you in?"

"well, yeah," he says, flashing you that signature cocky smile. "why not? i’m charming."

"you’re insufferable," you mutter, but you step aside anyway, gesturing for him to come in.

"thanks," he says, stepping into your room and looking around as if he owns the place. "this is nice. much cozier than i expected."

you can’t help but chuckle. "yeah, well, i like it simple."

"simple, huh?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "i thought you’d have some crazy expensive decor or something."

"i’m not exactly the ‘luxury’ type," you reply dryly.

"good to know," he says, sitting on your couch without asking. "so, what are we doing today?"

you blink, caught off guard by the question. "what do you mean ‘what are we doing’? i was planning on having a relaxing day. just me, my book, and my tea."

"boring," he says, groaning as he flops back into the cushions. "you need to live a little."

"i’m living just fine," you reply, rolling your eyes. "now get off my couch."

"come on, just for a little while," he says, grinning up at you. "let me hang out. i swear i’ll be quiet."

you stare at him, considering for a moment. "you’re not exactly known for being quiet."

he shrugs, looking unbothered. "fine, i’ll be your idea of ‘peaceful.’"

you sigh, sitting back down on the other side of the couch. despite yourself, you can’t help but feel a little amused. ni-ki’s presence is annoying, sure, but there’s something oddly comfortable about it too.

—

it’s around late afternoon when you start to hear the telltale sound of your phone buzzing on the coffee table. you reach over and glance at the screen, seeing a text from jaehyun.

jaehyun: "hey, you up for dinner tonight? karina and i were thinking of grabbing some food."

you frown, glancing over at ni-ki. "i already had plans with jaehyun and karina," you explain. "we were going to grab dinner."

ni-ki raises an eyebrow, his usual grin appears. "let me go with you"

you stare at ni-ki in disbelief. he stands there with that cocky grin of his, arms crossed, as if he’s just asked the most casual thing in the world.

"invite you to dinner with jaehyun and karina?" you repeat slowly, as though you can’t quite process what he’s saying.

"yeah, why not?" he shrugs nonchalantly, a playful glint in his eyes. "i’m not doing anything anyway, and it’d be more fun with me there."

you raise an eyebrow, considering the idea. "you want to crash our dinner plans? you’re really bold, you know that?"

"hey, it’s not crashing if you invite me," he says with a smirk, stepping closer. "besides, i’m fun. i’ll make it interesting."

you glance at your phone, seeing jaehyun’s text still sitting there. ‘are you coming or what?’

you look back at ni-ki. "i don’t know..."

"come on," he insists, giving you a look that makes you feel like you’re being peer-pressured in the most annoying but strangely convincing way possible. "it’ll be fun. jaehyun and karina will love me."

you frown. "do you even know how to act in front of my friends? they don’t exactly have the best impressions of you” you admit.

"how hard can it be?" he grins. "besides, it’s jaehyun and karina. they’ll get me. and if they don’t, i’ll just charm them."

you’re about to protest, but then you realize he’s not going to back down. and, for whatever reason, the thought of spending time with ni-ki, jaehyun, and karina all together suddenly seems oddly appealing.

you sigh, giving in. "fine, but don’t make it weird."

ni-ki beams. "deal. i’m going to be the perfect guest."

when you arrive at the restaurant with ni-ki in tow, jaehyun and karina are already waiting by the entrance. the look on jaehyun’s face when he spots you, and then ni-ki, could only be described as a mix of surprise and mild confusion.

"uh, what’s going on here?" jaehyun asks, blinking rapidly as he looks between you and ni-ki.

"what, you didn’t think i could bring my new ‘friend’ along?" you ask, feigning innocence. "he’s harmless."

"new friend?" karina raises an eyebrow. "that’s ni-ki, right?"

"yep, that’s the one," you say, nudging ni-ki with your elbow. "don’t let the attitude fool you, he’s alright."

ni-ki smirks and waves at them nonchalantly. "hey, guys. don’t mind me. just here to steal your food."

"you’re going to steal our food?" jaehyun asks, laughing as he steps forward to greet you both. "i should’ve known. ni-ki’s always up to something."

"i’m really not," ni-ki says, shrugging casually. "but i might steal your fries if you’re not careful."

karina eyes him with mild amusement. "alright, let’s just sit down before you scare us off."

the four of you sit down, with ni-ki taking the seat next to you, of course. jaehyun and karina sit across from you both, watching the dynamic between you and ni-ki with growing curiosity.

"so," karina starts after a few moments of awkward silence, "what exactly made you invite ni-ki to dinner?"

you glance at ni-ki, who looks entirely too pleased with himself. "he insisted," you say dryly. "he wouldn’t let up about it."

jaehyun chuckles. "that sounds about right. ni-ki can be pretty persistent."

"persistent, huh?" ni-ki smirks, clearly enjoying the attention. "i like to think of it as… persuasive."

"persuasive?" karina repeats, raising an eyebrow. "are we talking about the same ni-ki here? the one who bullies everyone he meets?"

ni-ki looks over at her and grins. "bullying? me? i prefer to call it ‘challenging.’"

you can’t help but laugh at his confident response. "yeah, he definitely challenges everyone. whether they want to or not."

jaehyun laughs. "i think we’re going to get along just fine tonight."

as the dinner progresses, it’s clear that the initial tension has dissipated. ni-ki’s usual teasing doesn’t feel as sharp when he’s around jaehyun and karina. he’s surprisingly… well, charming, in his own way. he cracks jokes, makes sarcastic remarks, and even joins in on the conversation when karina and jaehyun talk about their plans for the upcoming break.

you find yourself watching him more than you intend to, surprised by how easily he fits into the dynamic. there’s no tension between him and your friends, just a playful back-and-forth that somehow feels natural.

"so," jaehyun says, after a long stretch of conversation, "ni-ki, what’s your deal? you don’t really seem like the type to hang out with this lot." he gestures toward you and karina, giving you both a teasing smile.

"hey," you protest, "we’re cool."

"oh, i know," ni-ki says, grinning at jaehyun. "i just like to make things interesting. gotta keep them on their toes."

karina laughs. "that much is obvious. i’m surprised you didn’t try to make everyone do push-ups or something."

"who says i didn’t?" ni-ki winks, clearly enjoying himself.

you roll your eyes. "i’m going to regret this, aren’t i?"

"probably," karina says with a knowing grin. "but i have to admit, i wasn’t expecting him to be so… entertaining."

the rest of the dinner passes by in a blur of laughter, playful banter, and way too much food. by the time the check arrives, you’re not sure whether you’ve just had a fun night with your friends, or a chaotic, slightly ridiculous one.

as you step outside the restaurant with jaehyun, karina, and ni-ki, you feel an unexpected sense of contentment. ni-ki might have started as your enemy, but somewhere along the way, he’s shifted into something else. and now, with him standing next to you, joking around with your friends, you’re not so sure what to make of it all.

"thanks for inviting me," ni-ki says, glancing at you as you all walk to the parking lot. "i had a good time."

you glance over at him and shrug. "you weren’t as unbearable as usual."

he grins, a genuine, soft smile tugging at his lips. "i’ll take that as a compliment."

"you should," you say with a smile of your own. "because it’s the nicest thing i’ll say to you all week."

he chuckles, the sound warm and easy. "fair enough. i’ll take what i can get."

as you make your way home, you can’t help but think that this unexpected dinner with ni-ki might be one of the most fun nights you’ve had in a while.

—

you’re sprawled out on karina’s bed, watching as she types furiously on her laptop. jaehyun is sitting cross-legged on the floor, flipping through his notes from last week’s lecture, though he’s clearly not paying attention. it’s one of those easy afternoons where nothing seems particularly urgent, except for the thoughts swirling in your head.

you’d been trying to ignore them all day, hoping they’d go away on their own. but every time you close your eyes or let your mind wander, ni-ki’s face pops up, that stupid grin of his haunting your thoughts.

"alright," jaehyun says, breaking the silence. "spill."

"spill what?" you ask, trying to sound casual.

"whatever’s going on with you," he says, gesturing vaguely at you. "you’ve been weirdly quiet today. it’s creeping me out."

karina glances up from her laptop, narrowing her eyes. "yeah, now that he mentions it… you’ve been off. something on your mind?"

you groan, sitting up and burying your face in your hands. "why do you guys have to be so observant?"

"because we’re your friends," karina says simply, closing her laptop. "now, out with it. what’s going on?"

you hesitate, chewing on your lip as you try to figure out how to phrase it. "it’s… it’s about ni-ki."

jaehyun lets out a low whistle. "oh, this should be good."

karina leans forward, her expression instantly intrigued. "what about him? did he do something?"

"no," you say quickly, shaking your head. "he didn’t do anything. it’s just… he’s been hanging around a lot lately, and… i don’t know."

"you don’t know?" jaehyun repeats, raising an eyebrow. "that’s not very convincing."

you groan again, flopping back onto the bed. "okay, fine. i think… i think i might have feelings for him."

karina gasps, clapping her hands together like she’s just uncovered the juiciest piece of gossip ever. "i knew it!"

"you knew nothing," you mutter, covering your face with a pillow.

"are you kidding me?" she says, yanking the pillow away. "it was so obvious! the way you look at him, the way he teases you… i’ve been waiting for this moment."

jaehyun nods, smirking. "yeah, i kind of saw it coming too. you two have this weird energy whenever you’re together."

"weird energy?" you repeat, sitting up. "what does that even mean?"

"it means," jaehyun says, "that you two act like you’re in a rom-com. all the banter, the teasing, the lingering looks. it’s textbook ‘we’re pretending to hate each other but actually we’re into each other’ vibes."

karina nods enthusiastically. "exactly! and ni-ki? oh, he’s so into you."

"he’s not into me," you say quickly, shaking your head.

"he absolutely is," karina insists. "the way he looks at you? please. he’s head over heels, even if he’s too proud to admit it."

you frown, playing with the hem of your sleeve. "i don’t know… what if you’re wrong? what if he’s just messing around, and i’m reading too much into it?"

"we’re not wrong," jaehyun says confidently. "trust us. if ni-ki didn’t like you, he wouldn’t be spending all his free time with you."

"he literally shows up at your dorm uninvited," karina adds. "that’s not just friendly behavior. that’s ‘i like you and don’t know how to say it’ behavior."

you let their words sink in, your heart racing as you try to make sense of your feelings. maybe they’re right. maybe ni-ki’s teasing and constant presence mean something more.

but the thought of confronting those feelings, of admitting them to yourself, let alone to ni-ki, feels terrifying.

"what if i just… ignore it?" you suggest weakly.

karina groans. "you’re impossible. just talk to him, okay? or better yet, wait for him to confess. he’s bound to crack eventually."

jaehyun smirks. "and when he does, we’re going to say ‘we told you so.’"

you roll your eyes but can’t help the small smile tugging at your lips.

—

it’s a typical afternoon after school, and you’re sitting on the low wall near the campus courtyard, scrolling through your phone as you wait for karina and jaehyun to finish up their club activities. the sun hangs lazily in the sky, and most students have already scattered to their dorms or headed home. the courtyard is unusually quiet, except for the faint rustle of leaves and the occasional distant laugh.

you’re about to text karina and ask how long she’ll be when you hear footsteps approaching. without even looking up, you know who it is.

"what are you still doing here?" ni-ki’s familiar voice cuts through the silence, his tone casual, almost bored.

you glance up to see him standing a few feet away, his bag slung over one shoulder and his hands stuffed into his pockets. his hair’s a little messy, probably from running his fingers through it all day, and there’s that usual smirk on his face, the one that makes you want to roll your eyes.

"waiting for karina and jaehyun," you reply, tucking your phone into your pocket. "what about you? i thought you left already."

he shrugs, stepping closer and dropping his bag onto the ground next to you. "thought i’d stick around and see what you were up to."

"oh, how generous of you," you say dryly, swinging your legs idly as you look at him. "and here i was thinking you had better things to do."

"believe it or not," he says, plopping down on the wall beside you, "you’re pretty entertaining."

you snort. "wow. i’m honored."

he grins, leaning back on his hands as he looks up at the sky. for a moment, neither of you says anything, the comfortable silence settling between you. it’s strange how natural it feels to be around ni-ki now, how his teasing doesn’t grate on you the way it used to.

"you’ve been hanging out with me a lot lately," you say, breaking the silence. "what’s up with that?"

"what, you don’t enjoy my company?" he quips, glancing at you out of the corner of his eye.

"not what i said," you reply, giving him a look. "i’m just curious."

he shrugs again, a nonchalant gesture that seems almost rehearsed. "maybe i just like spending time with you."

your heart skips a beat at his words, but you brush it off, chalking it up to his usual teasing. "you’re terrible at answering questions, you know that?"

"i know," he says, smirking. "but you still put up with me, so i must be doing something right."

you roll your eyes, but a small smile tugs at your lips. before you can retort, ni-ki speaks again, his voice softer this time.

"it’s because i like you."

the words slip out so casually, so easily, that it takes a second for you to register them. when you do, you freeze, your brain scrambling to process what he just said.

"what?" you ask, turning to look at him.

he blinks, like he didn’t even realize he said it out loud, and for the first time, you see a flicker of uncertainty in his expression. "uh…"

"did you just say you like me?" you press, your heart pounding.

he scratches the back of his neck, looking anywhere but at you. "maybe."

"maybe?" you repeat, staring at him in disbelief. "ni-ki, you just said you like me. like, like me like me."

he sighs, finally meeting your gaze. "okay, fine. yeah, i said it. i like you. happy now?"

you’re not sure how to respond. your mind is a whirlwind of emotions. shock, confusion, and, if you’re being honest with yourself, a little bit of excitement.

"you’re kidding," you say after a moment, your voice barely above a whisper.

"do i look like i’m kidding?" he says, raising an eyebrow. "look, i wasn’t planning to say anything, but it kind of just… slipped out. so there you go. now you know."

you stare at him, trying to gauge if he’s being serious. but the way he’s looking at you, half-defiant, half-nervous, makes it clear that he’s not joking.

"why didn’t you say anything before?" you ask, your voice softer now.

"because," he says, running a hand through his hair, "i didn’t want to make things weird. we have this… thing, you know? the teasing, the banter. i didn’t want to mess it up."

"but you like me," you say again, like you’re trying to make sense of the words.

"yeah," he says simply, leaning back on his hands again. "i do. and it’s fine if you don’t feel the same way. i just… figured you should know."

you’re quiet for a moment, your thoughts racing. you think about all the times ni-ki’s teased you, all the times he’s gone out of his way to spend time with you. maybe he’s been trying to tell you this all along, in his own roundabout way.

"you’re such an idiot," you finally say, shaking your head.

his eyes widen, and he sits up straight. "wait, what? why am i an idiot?"

"because," you say, a smile tugging at your lips, "you could’ve just told me instead of being all weird about it."

he frowns. "i wasn’t being weird."

"you’ve been weird," you insist, laughing softly.

"okay, fine," he admits, rubbing the back of his neck. "maybe i’ve been a little weird."

"just a little," you tease, your smile growing.

he looks at you then, his expression softer, more open than you’ve ever seen it. "so… what now?"

"well," you say, pretending to think, "i guess you’ll just have to deal with the fact that i like you too."

his eyes widen again, and for a moment, he looks genuinely surprised. "wait, you do?"

"yeah," you say, laughing at the look on his face. "what, did you think i was going to reject you?"

"maybe," he admits, his lips curving into a sheepish grin. "i mean, you’re kind of out of my league."

"don’t push it," you say, swatting at his arm.

he laughs, the sound light and carefree, and you can’t help but join in. for once, there’s no teasing, no pretense. just the two of you, being honest with each other.

in the distance, you hear a loud whistle, followed by familiar voices calling out.

"oh my god, did they just confess?"

you whip your head around to see jake, jay, and heeseung standing a few feet away, clearly having eavesdropped on the entire conversation.

"i told you it was going to happen today," jay says, nudging jake.

"this is better than a drama," jake adds, grinning from ear to ear.

ni-ki groans, burying his face in his hands. "can you guys not?"

"what? we’re just here to support you," heeseung says, giving him a thumbs-up.

you laugh, the sound bubbling out of you uncontrollably, and ni-ki glances at you, his own smile breaking through despite his embarrassment.

"i hate them," he mutters, but there’s no real malice in his voice.

"you love them," you say, nudging him playfully.

"yeah, yeah," he grumbles, but he’s still smiling.

and for the first time, everything feels exactly as it should be.

[dollzites]

⏦ﾟ♡︎ “DON’T YOU WANT A FAMILY WITH ME?”

୨ৎ pairing: husband!junho x fem reader

୨ৎ genre: angst. major angst that’s slightly emotional.

୨ৎ summary: 5 months into marriage you thought it was time to bring up kids and how big of a family you both wanted but.. things didn’t seem to work out when you brought it up to him and your world slowly started to crumble.

୨ৎ from myeong: hello!! here we are! my first ever angst fic and I hope you can enjoy it!! I feel as if I’m the best at this (since I’ve practiced writing angst so much in my notes app lol) let’s see how it turns out! x

staring at the ticking clock for what had seemed like hours now eyes burning from how long you went without blinking, a sigh left your glossed over lips holding onto the small pair of shoes you came across after leaving work one night. passing by a cute baby shop that held just about everything from clothing items to toys and strollers, your body filled up with this excitement that couldn’t be explained. it had finally been time to talk about a family with junho and the nerves only worsened as each minute went by. of course he wasn’t home yet junho was late almost every night. work was slowly getting to him turning him into a man that you weren’t too familiar with which only hurt more. he’d come home and rant about needing to find something that he just wouldn’t tell you and you never asked him what it was. were you scared to ask him?

“junho..” his name slipped from your lips the second the door opened and you stood from your seat on the couch. his eyes that you adored so much widened seeing the small pair of shoes that you held onto getting all the wrong ideas. awkwardly laughing and shaking your head, “oh.. these? no not at all. I picked them up at the baby shop nearby after work and.. well, just thought they were the cutest little things I’ve ever seen. I thought that maybe one day our little one could wear them.. what do you think?” all the fears that flooded your mind came back that moment seeing the look on his face it almost made you sick to your stomach. “my love, you already know what my answers going to be, hm? work is just too much for me right now. I think we’ll have to wait just a bit longer.” the large and warm hands that made you feel the safest and most comfortable gently grabbed ahold of your own and pulled you closer to him but you didn’t budge. feet staying in place and eyes staring at the floor beneath you it was hard to form words after hearing such an excuse. forcing him would make you feel like the most piece of shit wife in the universe but the both of you weren’t getting any younger and it had always been a dream of yours to have a child early so you could slowly grow with the child and be close with them but junho was stopping you and it was only making things worse in the marriage. many would say to enjoy marriage and wait for kids but you knew that junho would be the most loving, caring, and supportive father in the world. did you sound selfish for wanting to see it so badly? “how long do we have to wait..?”

it was his turn to sigh especially since he pulled you towards him again and you stayed put in the same place you were in when he walked through the door. “just a few more months, yeah? maybe one more year. give me another year and I can finally give you what you want.” a year..? did this man really just say give him a year? slowly looking up from the floor to look at him, a tear rolled down your cheek. why weren’t you able to understand this? it wasn’t rocket science junho was so involved in his work and you had knew that from the beginning but what you weren’t expecting is it to get in the way of the marriage and the topic of wanting kids with him. “don’t you want a family with me?” what a dumb question to ask but it was still asked as a few more tears rolled down your wet and warm cheeks.

“what? of course I want a family with you. why would you ask such a thing? I married you for a reason didn’t I? I love you. I love you so much and you’re so precious to me that’s why I need you to wait just a bit longer.” junho watched the tears roll down your cheeks in pure agony. not being able to communicate with you about his job killed him every day in ways that he didn’t want. as he met up with gihun and spoke about plans he would find himself zoning out thinking about you and how happy he was now being married to you. how much he wanted a child with you and who would that child look more like? his thoughts were clear from the start that he wanted, needed, and adored you. having a family is at the top of his list and he just doesn’t understand why his life had to turn out this way. hiding so many secrets from his precious wife and not knowing if you were safe or not with him during these months of needing to find his brother and the island.

allowing him to pull you into his broad chest a few sobs left you while his arms wrapped around your waist keeping you close to him even when you your best to pull away from him. “let me go junho.” voice stern even if it was weak from the crying you’d done. junho shook his head his grip around you only tightening feeling like the worst husband in the world watching you suffer. “I can make this better. please trust me? we can have a baby soon, alright? I just need a month—maybe two. I hate seeing you like this. you know how important my work is sweetheart.” work. it never failed for him to bring up work even after seeing you cry and feel so worthless like this. using the last bit of strength you had left and pushing away from him reaching to pick up the small pair of shoes and walk past him into your shared bedroom. “if work is that important then you should’ve never married me junho and I mean it! all you do is talk about work and how much it stresses you out but you won’t quit! I’ve told you countless times before to quit and find something more family oriented but you won’t. you’re home late every single night. I hear the phone calls you pick up during the early hours of the morning when you’re supposed to be sleeping. junho I can’t take any more of this. I love you because you’re my husband but I absolutely despise your work.”

junho was left alone in front of the bedroom door after hearing everything you had to say about how you truly felt about him and his work. he moved towards the wall and slid down it letting his hands run through his styled hair messing it up and rubbing the gel off. he had to make things right somehow and someway with you while still trying to find his brother. how? how was he going to do such a thing because at the end of the day he was keeping the most secrets from you, his innocent and loving wife that he absolutely adored. it felt so wrong but not at all wrong at the same time which had been the weirdest feeling for him. you or his job and brother? what kind of question was that? there was no way he could decide so easily without sounding like a heartless prick but.. it was time for him to decide.

[cvnt4him]

Emergency request bc I’m literally struggling so bad and feeling neglected as shit rn

ofc if you’re up to it pooks ik ur alr stressing over stuff and I don’t want to make it worse :(

Maybe some iida or monoma x reader that try’s hard to do stuff but always gets neglected? Thanks pooks 💕

I hope I got to this in enough time for you, I'm sorry for whatever you're going through n trust you're not making my situation any worse, you're actually helping me get rid of writers block so ty for this n I hope this reaches you well and is what you hoped for🫶🏽🫶🏽

mha boys x reader.

Included; izuku midoriya, kirishima ejirou, bakugou katsuki, tenya iida, monoma neito, denki kaminari.

Not in order.

Genre: angst? comfort/feel-good/fluff.

Izuku midoriya is none other than a saint. He helps everyone around him and he strives to keep his good boy/golden boy title. You admire him for that and you know others do, you also know one day he'll not only be yours but belong to the world. It gets to you but you try so hard to not let it.

When you two started dating no one knew at first, but izuku couldn't just stand by and let people not know that you were his. That he finally had a girlfriend who thought he was worthy of love. You truly felt that he deserved to be loved and he felt so seen with you, more than anyone else had ever made him feel.

Sooner or later after people found out, people began giving you such disgusting looks. Mostly girls you noticed. They would whisper about you when you were alone and look at you with mean and disgusted looks and they would laugh at you while you walked. No matter what you did you always had eyes on you. People laughing at the way you ate or spoke or dressed, it was draining.

You knew why it was happening and you tried so hard not to let it get to you. But none of that could even begin to compare to once your friends found out the two of you were dating.

You walked into the girls locker room to see all of the girls standing in a circle, you had already heard through the door they were having a conversation however you didn't exactly try to make out what they were saying. They all turned to look at you before slowly looking away to continue dressing, the silence had gotten rather too loud for your liking. They were just having a conversation before, why stop now that you were there? It bugged you the wrong way but you didn't want to make a commotion.

"so you and midoriya?"

Mina questions looking you up and down with a pointed look. She was one of your best friends, why was she looking at you like you're being investigated in a murder?

"uh.. yeah! We're dating."

You confirmed turning away to finish undressing. She hummed sucking her teeth and crossing her arms.

"you're dating him.. whilst knowing ochako liked him the whole time?"

She instigates, trying to get you to admit something. What the hell? Why would she say this? It's not your fault ochako didn't confess to izuku in enough time. It's not your fault he agreed to date you. It's not your fault he wanted everyone to know, so why was she trying to grill you like it was?

"look. I don't know what you're trying to get out of me, but--"

"just that you're a backstabbing bitch."

Silence filled the room once more as you scoffed clearly offended. She and the other girls stared at you with such disgusted and disappointed looks. You look around the room to see everyone staring at you with hatred and spite.

"are you fucking kidding me?!"

You ask around looking at all of them, there was no way they all hated you this much because you liked a boy.

"I mean.. you did kind of steal him off from under her.."

"you knew she liked him. Kind of bitchy."

"what about girl code, dude"

All the girls began saying their own opinions ganging up on you and practically eating you alive. They all shared their own fair share of mean words and side eyes before you finished getting dressed and slammed your locker shut making them all quiet down.

"fuck all of you."

You spat out while flipping them all off and leaving the room. You couldn't believe they're trying to decapitate you because ochako didn't have the balls to do what you did. Why does that make you a bad person.

The week started getting harder and harder as everyone, even some of the boys who knew ochako liked deku, started distancing themselves from you, al because of what mina would whisper in their ears, feeding them whatever she could pin in her web. And like the idiot fools they were, they believed her.

You were being neglected by your friends, all because you liked a boy. It began to be too much for you. Putting up this front for everyone who didn't even bother to see it or even your side of the story. You can't be happy with someone who has all these people liking them and making you feel shitty for also liking them. Maybe you'd have to break up with izuku.

When you came to him with this information he was furious. But not even with ochako or mine. With everything. The fact you'd been feeling shitty and didn't tell him and the fact you didn't tell him these people were bothering you. Izuku loves you more than he does himself and he isn't afraid to show that. He also loves his friends but he isn't going to let these people sit here and make you feel like shit because you're together.

He held you close that night, assuring you he wouldn't let this stand any longer. He was going to confront everyone for whatever they said to you and he wouldn't give a single shit about it. You were his and he loves you.

"I'm sorry for the way you've been feeling, love. I'm sorry that people have been treating you shitty and neglecting you because of our relationship. But you don't need any of them as long as you have me."

Tenya iida, one of the most compassionate hard working and caring people anyone has ever been graced to know. He is strong resilient and brave. He cares so much about everyone and it's so admirable. Some people see him as a wack job robot who just yells and screams or dotes too hard but to you he's perfect. An angel sent from the heavens above.

You've been working hard on something for a really long time. You hadn't told anyone about it because when you planned on it you wanted to also tell them the good news that would come with it. However that good news nevwr came. What you were doing wasn't good enough and it effectsd you deeply. Your grades fell, you started getting rather sluggish with your movements and you jardlt had the energy for anhone kr anyrhing.

Not getting the good news for what you've done was draining. It drained you to the point you wanted to break down and cry, yet nothing would come out. When people told you what you worked hard on, for so long, wasn't enough. It broke you, scarred you deeper than you could even begin to imagine. But tenya seen, he seen how you began to act, how you began to look more and more dead, how you'd began neglecting yourself. It was all too much for him to bear or watch you go through alone. He couldn't sit by and watch the love of his life perish.

Tenya held you in your dorm and let you cry on his shoulder for as long as you needed, having tissues on standby and rubbing your head gently. Placing kisses on top of your forehead and shushing you lightly as you both cuddled, he would be patient with you. He would wait until you were ready to talk or open up about what you were going through, but for now he wanted you to know you were loved and that he was proud of you.

"I love you, y/n. So much more than you could possibly fathom. I see you, and I am so incredibly proud of you. You are worthy and deserve someone who would move heaven and earth for you, I hope I am adequate enough for you."

Dating bakugou katsuki was hard. Not because he was an angry fiery shit head, but because he had such a burning passion for what he did. He never stopped striving and fighting to get what he wanted. He knew what he wanted and grasped at it and held onto it tight. It was nothing less than admirable.

The fact he could come back to you and tell you he loves you was admirable. He loved you and that meant so much to you. You loved him just as much and tried so hard to show up and be there for him. Through thick and thin, lows and highs, you wanted to be by his side regardless. He loved you for that reason alone, but he'd give you so many other reasons why he loves you.

He seen how hard you were working, how hard you were trying, how no one dared to even glance at you. He seen a faller bird that had potential and was worthy. Bakugou katsuki seen you. He wanted you and promised you he'd love you.

But for fucks sake, it always angered him to watch you get in such moods. To watch you neglect yourself and struggle with bad things. To put yourself under so much pressure and stress for no reason. When you'd cry your eyes out alone because you were tired.

He wanted to do so many things to you in that moment, but all his body could do was rush to you and hold you. He held you tightly, his fingers digging into the side of your hip. He buried his face in your neck and inhaled your sweet scent that always made him go feral.

You were his and he wouldn't dare let you sit here and feel shitty over whatever it was that was making you feel this way. He pushed and poked at every corner he could to get you to talk. Once you did he told you to shut the fuck up. You wanted to cry even more but you were sure he had reason to it.

And boy did he, he had such caring words laced with such menas things that were all wrapped in the cutest bow. He was emotionally constipated and had a hard time making people feel better. But watching him slightly struggle to find nice words to make you feel better while holding you close in his arms makes you feel so much better. Giggling at how he stammered over his words and how he tried to uphold a gentle voice to match the gentle strokes of his fingers on your side.

"look.. just. sigh. You're great okay. I love you and I'm not gonna just sit here n' let you whine n' shit for nothin'. Don't let whatever stupid shit is bothering you get t'ya. Or I'll beat yer' fuckin' ass."

Being kirishima eijirou's girlfriend was nothing other than a pure utter blessing. To be blessed with such an amazing caring and helpful boyfriend like him was genuinely a gift from the god above. He treated you like a queen who deserved to be worshipped.

It didn't take long for him to notice how hard you were struggling with things. He made sure before you got back to his dorm that it was all cozy and comfortable for you. One of the most romantic gestures he could have ever done for you. The way he had his laptop on his bed with so many plushies and comfortable pillows, and the fluffy cover he has and all the snacks you could ever imagine. He was nothing more than a blessing.

He held you tight and let you watch whatever you wanted, kirishima doesn't care about weight or anything like that, [yes I had to add this bit, bite me.] He loves training and working out with you, sure but he would never force you to do those things. He wants you to be nothing but comfortable with him and your body, so he would never shame you for how much you are or how you are in front of him. He loves you, all of you and he made sure you knew that. He kissed you and told you he loved you so many times. You fell asleep in his arms while he whispered sweet nothings in your ear.

"I love you.. I hope this could make you feel better. I will always be here for you."

Denki kaminari. Where to even begin with him. He was such a funny guy that it was hard to tell when he was joking or being serious about committing arson. He always made sure you knew that he loved you. He always hung by you and stayed by your side. He wouldn't ever tell you but he was a bit insecure. There were some things about himself he wished he could change for you, some things he wished he could do for you. He never intended to bring himself down but sometimes he thought you were this super cool goddess who was worthy of something more than a tiny little pebble like him. He felt like he was gum beneath your shoe.

Denki knew he wasn't good at a lot of things, he knew he could be dumb or even useless at times but when he seen how short you were feeling and how you would start crying because of how stressed you were he couldn't just sit by and let you feel this way.

He let you vent to him like you laid in his arms. He let you out face masks on him and let you do his hair or paint his nails or draw on him and just let your rant to him about all of your worries and woes. He wanted you to feel the way you made him feel so he tried hard to keep his mouth shut and listen. Whenever he'd notice you quieting down because you thought he was getting tired of listening he'd ask you "why'd you stop?" It'd make you feel so happy to have someone like him.

Finally after you were finished he decided to carefully pick and close his words to make himself sound just a bit smarter and more cool for you.

"hey...I'm sorry that you're going through this.. I wish there was something a bit more that I could uhm.. do? I don't want you to feel like I'm a burden but I promise you I'm here for you, if you ever want to vent like this again or just have someone to talk to, or-- or even just sit in silence with someone.. I'm here."

Neito monoma, he's quite the distinguished fellow. He always hated class 1A and he seemed to make his whole personality about just that. Or so you thought. You two getting together was not on your 2024 bingo. But he knew how to make you feel things.

He gave you butterflies by just smiling. His laugh was loud and carefree. He wasn't afraid to boast and brag about anything you did, he even did it in front of you. It was hard to feel insecure with him around. He wanted the world to know you were better than them, especially class 1A.

He would give you flowers or cute bows or just things he felt you'd like. He learned you and your every move well. He'd even practice certain conversations before the two of you have them. He felt you were rather predictable in an exciting way. A way that could never make him unlove you.

You being in a bad mood angered him, he confronted you about it and was so ready to beat someone's ass. With his words. But once you assured him why you were feeling this way his gaze softened. He grabbed you by your shoulders and pulled you into a hug. One that felt like it could last an eternity. One that you hoped would.

He sighed and just held you for a while and took it to his bed which led to a cuddle sesh. He rubbed your shoulder while you buried your face in his chest, he felt the way your breath fanned all over him and it made a shiver go down his spine.

You listen to his heartbeat and breathe in as much of him as you could, you were afraid if you didn't take all of him in right now he might disappear. Every time he kissed your forehead lightly or peppered kisses over your ear snapped you back into reality and helped you realize this was real, that he was real and was with you. That he loved you and would do anything for you.

"I love you darling and I hope you know just how much I do. I'm rather angry that you hadn't told me how you were feeling but I suppose I can let it go for now.. get some rest, my love."

AN: so I decided to make it a to character thing n don't even mind that I basically made a whole story for izukus... We all know how I feel ab him..

Also off topic and not that anyone cares but I'm thinking ab updating my masterlist yk? Js make it more aesthetically pleasing to myself. Also I wrote this all in one go, this took ab maybe two hours?????

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No school? Check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserves better. 

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

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

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

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

Luke Hughes loves summer.

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

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

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

He does love living with his brother.

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

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

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

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know her?”

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

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since when do you work here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes of your time?”

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

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

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

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know who you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

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

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

Us. Oh, he likes that.

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

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

“A nudge, then?”

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

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

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

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

“How profound.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fun. 

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

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

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

“We could make a competition out of it.”

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

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

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t see that happening.”

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

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

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

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

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

But God, you were pretty. 

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

“I’m Luke.”

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

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

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has you figured out, by now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

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

“You wish.”

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

“I think you’re an idiot.”

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

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

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

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How could you possibly know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you find out?”

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

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

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

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

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

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

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

Much better.

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

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

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

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

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was I not supposed to?”

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

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

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

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

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

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

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

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

“To get his hair cut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Any food?”

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

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

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

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

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

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

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

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

“Won’t he complain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would usually drive him crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She started it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

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

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

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

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

Interstellar. 

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

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

“Me too. I love space movies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

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

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

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

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

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

>PART TWO<

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

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

[f0point5]

i NEED jealous Max. Please 🥺🥺🥺 I love jealous/possessive guys haha the feminism just leaves my body

Me too! GOD. Me, too.

It took me ages to decide how to go about this because I had soooo many ideas but I hope you like it!

✨set during the Miami GP weekend 2022✨

Everybody wants you, but I don’t like a gold rush

Max glances down at his watch. 17 minutes. 17 minutes you’ve been standing in the gallery area of the garage, fanning yourself with a magazine - with Max’s face on the front of it, no less - in the Miami heat, talking to some freakishly tall guy in a Louis Vuitton denim jacket and aviator sunglasses. He’s so painfully American that Max wonders what you even have to talk about for…eighteen minutes.

You tighten your high ponytail while Paul Bunyon talks, his mouth wide with every word. Max studies your face for any sign that you’re bored. He’s bored of watching this, but he knows from experience that not looking isn’t a real option. You haven’t looked over at him once in those eighteen minutes, in fact you haven’t even been distracted by the mechanics moving around or the noise of drilling and clattering tools.

This guy must be really fucking interesting.

You smile at something Captain America says and Max feels his jaw clenched so hard he thinks a tooth is going to crack.

It’s like he’s thirteen again, watching you stand in the middle of the makeshift paddock at the karting track, swarmed by every one of his competitors, their parents packing up their stuff as they vie for your attention. He was the only one who stayed away, following his dad’s instructions on how to properly dismantle and store things while sneaking glimpses at the show you were running. He would win every race and still go home feeling like a loser.

It’s different now, of course. He doesn’t take your gregarious nature so personally now, and he can admit he understands what men see in you now, even if he doesn’t feel it. But he’d be lying if he said it doesn’t trigger something in him to see the way men react to you. It might irritate him less if you enjoyed it, but you’ve long since grown out of that. Now, you expect it so much that you ignore it, and Max has no choice to but to notice it, the same way you’d notice a rusty knife embedded in your side.

“You’re not listening to me, are you?” GP says, which snaps Max out of his calculations.

“I’m listening,” Max says, fiddling with the brim of his cap. “Drive fast, win race, I got it,”

GP frowns at his dismissive tone, and Max makes a point of looking at his water bottle, lest GP realise what actually had his attention. “Max, you need to focus. What are you even-“ It’s the sound of your laugh - high pitched over the deep bass of the music - that makes GP look across the garage. His features twist in disapproval as he turns back to Max. “You’ve got to be kidding me,”

Max looks down at his shoes, moving his foot as he inspects them. “What?”

Above him, GP groans. “I’m not going to say anything about the situation as a whole, because it’s waste of my time. But specifically now, she’s right there, she’s not going anywhere. Can we please just go through this once and then you can carry on staring?”

Max rolls his eyes, steeling his face as a cameraman enters the garage. He’s wearing a Red Bull shirt so Max doesn’t mind too much, but he can’t be captured looking as morose as he feels. The cameraman pans past him and onto you and the guest. Max watches you cringe as the guy throws up some hand sign to the camera, clearly at home with the media attention.

“Who even is that?” Max asks, unable to hide his rancour. He’s probably going to be forced to take a picture with Popeye later.

“I don’t know, some American football player?” GP says with a shrug, giving Max a helpless look. GP couldn’t give less of a shit about the celebrity guests touted around the gargae, and normally Max is his ally. “Are we done?”

Max nods, but not even a second later he’s looking again. It gets worse the more you talk, he can see this guy becoming more enchanted by the second. He wonders what kind of steroids they take in American sports leagues because the meathead is acting like a dog in heat. He leans towards you at an angle that is wholly unnecessary, his eyes fixated on your mouth, nodding too emphatically at everything you say.

“My God, why doesn’t he just lick her face,” Max says incredulously, more to himself than anything.

“Max,” GP sighs.

“Come on,” Max implores with a scoff, stopping himself from outright gesturing in your direction. “Look at him. That’s embarrassing,”

GP fixes Max with a deadpan expression. “Right, but you being sulky and jealous is the height of cool?”

“I’m not jealous.”

And he isn’t. Because Joe DiMaggio over there doesn’t have anything he wants. He’s not going to waste time being jealous of a guy getting half an hour with you when he has cats, and a home, and a life with you.

Finally, you look in his direction, but only because GP calls your name. “Can you come here?”

You give GP a thumbs up and excuse yourself, trotting over to Max without a second thought. Wannabe Tom Brady brazenly enjoys the view, and Max swears he hasn’t been that close to punching someone since Monza last year.

“What’s up?” You ask, slotting yourself between the two men as you lean back against the shelf.

GP hands you his phone. “Beat this Candy Crush level for me, would you? Been stuck for days,”

You look at him skeptically, but years of being filmed up close by cameras on the pit wall have given GP a hell of a poker face; he just stares back at you, and you give up with a huff.

“Men are hopeless,” you say with a roll of your eyes.

“Couldn’t agree more,” GP says, his eyes pointedly on Max, who can’t even defend himself.

Desperate to avoid GP’s scrutiny, he glances over at the gallery, only to find the Yank looking at him. Well, not him, you. He’s got that curious expression as he assesses you fiddling with GP’s phone, one that says he’s trying to understand if he has something to be worried about. He doesn’t. You’re not his to worry about.

“Here,” Max says, pulling off his cap. You barely look up at him before he puts his cap firmly on your head, holding it steady with one hand while pulling your ponytail through the hole at the back with the other.

The brim of the hat obscures half your face, and Max turns so that half your body is shielded by his, which he tells himself is in case a camera comes by.

“It’s sunny,” Max shrugs in his own defence, when he notices you looking at him with a raised eyebrow.

You adjust the cap on your head but don’t take it off. “Why don’t you just give me your letterman jacket?”

“My what?”

“Never mind,” you chuckle, shaking your head at him as you pat his chest with an indulgent smile.

He takes the opportunity at the sound of a large wheel gun to glance over at the gallery, only to meet the eyes of the guy you were talking to. Now that you’re no longer next to him, Max does sort of recognise him. He plays for some team named after an animal. Max just looks at him - he’ll do this all day if he has to - until the guy shoves his hands in his pockets and pulls out his phone, starting to tap away. Yeah, go back to Raya.

Good riddance, Max thinks to himself as he turns back to you, only to find that you already looking at him. He wonders for how long.

He can tell by your smirk that he’s been caught. If he’s honest with himself you caught him five years ago, this was just one of the few moments he let you know it. And you know it. How could you not know?

He thinks for a second that you’re going to tease him, but you don’t. You shift on your feet so that some of your weight rests against his arm, and go back to playing on GP’s phone.

“Go on, GP,” he says, fighting a smile at the large number 1 on the brim of what is now your hat.

He knows from the way GP is looking at him that he’ll get an earful about this later, but right now, he just clears his throat.

“Right, so,”

[lovecla]

TEACH ME (HOW TO MAKE HIM COME) | jack hughes.

nhl masterlist, nsfw, @lovecla’s kinktober collection, chapter four:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: oral sex (f. receiving), fingering, softdom jack, p in v, no protection (don’t do this kids!), praise kink and degradation if you squint, dirty talk, wet n messy!, subspace kinda, dacryphilia.

➴ word count: 3.4k

💌 from me to you: can we talk about how they completely forgot about the whole teaching thing and just straight up fucked each other? wild! also, will sarah and jackie wake up with trevor almost yanking jack’s door like morgan from criminal minds? maybe. have a nice reading loves!

𖧷

IF YOU had to describe what you were feeling, you’d have to say you are…

Well. Horny.

Being late to everything in your romantic life, you had never felt aroused towards a man before. Of course, you have had crushes on boys and you’d love if things went further than that, but besides Zack, you had never really intended on having sex with any of them.

Even with that guy back in high school, you only did it because you felt pressured to. You didn’t really like him, and you can only guess that he didn’t really like you either.

Until Jack.

You were sitting on the bench near the lake at your brother’s house, the bonfire near you is almost completely extinguished and you’re staring at the dark, lowkey scary lake in front of you.

It was late at night, everyone Trev had invited to his little lake party had already left, Jack included.

“Hey,” Jack’s honeyed voice reaches your ear, as you finish putting on your sweater. Everyone was inside already, and you could hear Trevor’s nonstop talk. “What’s up with the pouty lips, pretty?”

“I’m not pouting…”

He leans closer, chuckling. “Yes, you are, baby. What’s going on?”

“I just…” you sigh, hoping the darkness around you both hides the blush in your cheeks. “Can’t we move on to the next lesson?” Whispering, you look down to your feet.

Jack’s laugh makes you frown even more.

“It’s not funny, Jack.”

“Sorry, sorry,” he whispers. “It’s hard, baby. Trevor’s already complaining about you sneaking out at night and only coming back in the morning.”

“He would never connect the dots, Jack.”

“Baby—”

“Besides that, I’m twenty!” You raise your voice, only to lower it again. “I’m twenty, Jack. If I want you to f-fuck me, it’s my business.”

“You want me to fuck you?”

Jack had a playful, yet amused smile on his face, and you wanted to kiss him really badly.

“I mean, y-yes?”

He leans closer, briefly pecking your lips before stepping back. “Believe me, I want that too, baby. But we can’t right now, so be patient okay? I don’t want Z to give you too much trouble,” he sighs, putting his hands inside his front pocket. “Get inside soon, alright? Don’t want you to get cold. Text me if you need anything, pretty.”

You nod, watching as he smiles at you before leaving.

And you’re still outside, an hour later, with your mind working nonstop. The thought of laying underneath Jack, with his dick inside of you, in and out, while you’re nothing but a whimpering mess under him made you so fucking horny it isn’t one bit funny.

Before, when your friends or even Kiara would talk about wanting to fuck someone, you thought they were just exaggerating to make you want to do the same, and after your first time going awfully terrible, you started to believe that, but now, as you get up and head inside to pack your things, you realise they weren’t kidding.

“Where are you going?” Trevor asks, sounding tipsy as fuck. “Saraah.”

“I’m— I’m going to a guy’s house,” you blurt out, zipping up your bag. “I’ll be back tomorrow morning.”

“What?” He gets up, suddenly looking a whole lot sober, walking in your direction. “What do you mean? No!”

“What do you mean ‘no’?” You scoff, suddenly brave. “I’m twenty and last time I checked, I’m free to do whatever I want. And if what I want is to go to a guy’s house,” And fuck him until I can no longer speak. “Then I’ll do it. Good night.”

“What— Sarah!”

Trevor keeps shouting your name, but at this point, you’ve had enough of his protective bullshit. He’s been fucking girls since he was seventeen years old, so what’s the big deal anyway?

You call for an Uber and put on Jack’s address.

It was now or never.

𖧷

“I’M PLEASED yet scared to ask what you’re doing here, or how you even got here in the first place,” Jack laughs as he lets you inside his house. You look around, seeing the TV on with some random hockey game playing, and a bag of chips opened on the coffee table. “Does Z know?”

“No, but this time he’ll probably figure it out by himself.” You roll your eyes.

“Do I have to worry about him showing up at my door tomorrow?” He raised his eyebrows and crosses his arms in front of his chest.

“Maybe,” you shrug. “I don’t care.”

Jack stays quiet for a while, walking towards you with a mischievous expression on his face.

“Are you this desperate, baby?” He whispers. “Are you so needy for something inside that greedy, little pussy of yours that you’ll run from your brother at midnight just to have my dick inside you?”

“Jack,” is all you manage to say, dropping your things on the floor and ending the distance between your bodies.

“Answer me, baby.”

“You already know the answer to that,” you close your eyes, holding the hem of your sweatshirt tightly. “Stop being mean.”

“I’m not being mean, baby. I just want to hear you say,” he grins. “Tell me, baby.”

“I’m— I am desperate. I want you so bad I think—” you breathe, opening your eyes to stare at his. “I think I’m going insane.”

“Are you?” He tilts his head. “How so, pretty?”

“I think about you all the time,” you start, pushing your embarrassment aside. “I wake up w-wet, after dreaming about you all night. Everyday before I get up I have to t-touch myself, pretending it’s your hand instead of mine down there.”

Jack leans closer and kisses your neck, inhaling your perfume right after, before squeezing your waist, hard. “Is that so, baby?”

“Mhm.”

“Then you’re not the only one going insane,” he mumbles against your lips. “Because I think about you all the fucking time too. I’ve always cared for you, and you know this, baby, but you grew up and suddenly you’re not Z’s little sister anymore, you’re a fucking woman. And I want you so fucking bad, Sarah.”

You can feel his dick hardening beneath his pants and you try to get closer, even if it’s physically impossible.

“You drive me fucking crazy when you wear those little things that you call skirts, or when you wear those bikinis so fucking tight your tits look edible,” he chuckles. “When you asked me to teach you how to fuck? Sarah, you gave me everything I’ve ever wanted on a silver platter. All I could think about was fucking you.”

“Then do it,” you whisper. “Fuck me, Jack.”

“Sarah—”

“Don’t think about anything else,” you continue, running your fingers through his chest. “Just fuck me, please.”

“Fine,” he smirks. “I’ll give you what you want.”

𖧷

JACK IS absolutely gorgeous and you’re just one single step away from losing your mind. You had imagined Jack fully naked before, and even seen his dick and all of that, but once again, the entire thing did nothing to the real thing;

Jack has a tanned, toned body, abs that you wanted to wrap your hands around and squeeze— his thighs were toned and probably illegal in, like, forty-six countries at least. His dick was flushed and red, rock hard too, and his lips were slightly parted as he stood naked in the middle of the room.

“You’re such a pretty thing, aren’t you?” He smiles at you, who’s also naked, dangerous and so, so lustful.

You smile and look at him with begging, doe eyes, before mumbling a small thank you— you remembered right before your first “lesson” started, Jack said that consent is sexy, and so is being talkative inside the bedroom. No humming, no nodding; just using your words and, if things got too much, saying “stop” would work just fine.

“Here’s what we’re gonna do tonight, sweetheart,” Jack started, shamelessly jerking off his dick in front of you. “You’re gonna come three times. Once on my tongue, once in my fingers and, finally, once on my cock. Are we clear?”

You whimpered, before whispering a faint “Yes.”

“Very well, baby,” his cocky accent crawled out of his mouth, accentuating the last word. “On the bed, hands and knees," Jack instructed, his voice dripping with dominance.

You scrambled onto the bed, positioning yourself on all fours, your heart pounding with anticipation. You felt vulnerable yet incredibly aroused, your pussy probably leaking against the sheets.

Even with the dim lighting, Jack could probably see how red— everywhere really; your ears, your cheeks, your nose, your knees— and how needy you are. Your pussy was practically dripping, drenched. Jack looked like he wished he could eat you out until you turned into sand in his hands.

And to him, you’re a fucking vision. Face sweaty and anxious, and he could probably tell how much you wanted to move or just do anything, but you were being good and letting Jack dictate what was best for you and oh.

Jack stepped closer to your pliant body on the gigantic bed and caressed it, his fingers tracing a path on your skin; while all you could do was just squirm in place.

“You’re just like a doll,” Jack said, softly but loud enough to make you fucking moan. “So pliant and needy. So easy to play with, even easier to break.”

“Jack.” You whispered, lips wet and shiny.

“You like that, don’t you? Knowing that I can do whatever I want with you, with your body— I’ll mark you up, and then everyone will know how good you are for me and what you let me do with you.”

You shivered under Jack’s touch. He decided to be kind and move his fingers a little bit further down, until he was touching your clenching hole. He heard you hold your breath and he chuckled, finding it cute.

He leaned down on the bed, placing his knees on the floor, and kissing your thighs gently— he slowly made his way to your dripping pussy, his tongue licking all the way from your folds to your hole, making you moan loudly. It had been brief, just a light touch, but your knees got weak just the same.

“Hold yourself tight, baby.” Jack ordered, before diving completely into your hole.

And he ate well. He ate you out like a starved man who hadn’t eat in days as he licked and fucked you with his tongue, leaving you trashing under him— you weren’t even in all fours anymore, your knees had given up a minute or two after Jack inserted his tongue inside you. He was sloppy and messy, his spit practically dripping out his mouth.

“Jack, mhhmm, J-Jack, please.” You whispered, and it’d only encourage him to sink further, deeper inside you.

His hands were holding you roughly, and you knew it would look fucking amazing to see his handprints on your ass later. Oh, you’d ascend.

“‘m gonna… Jack, please, can I—”

“Come for me, pretty,” He said, getting his tongue out of you for just a moment, before diving completely again. You were trashing and whimpering, your eyes were in the back of your head, your mouth was open and there was so much wetness in your lips and. “Come for me like the good girl you are, baby. Come on, make me proud.”

“‘M gonna make you proud, I’m—” You were just a step away from actually yelling, with how loud you were sounding. But then. “Jack, oh.”

Jack stepped away, looking at the mess he’d made: you were flushed, sweaty, your hands holding the sheets for dear life, your hair stuck to your forehead. Your lips were red and wet, saliva running down your chin and your eyes were closed, eyebrows furrowed. Your pussy throbbed between the sheets and your thighs were covered with your cum.

“Baby,” Jack breathed. “You did so well, sweetheart. Look at you, coming like a good girl. Aren’t you my good girl?”

“Y-yes, Jack, yes.” You stated, a small smile on your face, eyes still closed.

“How are you, pretty?”

“Fine. So fucking fine.”

“Good.”

He didn’t give time for you to recover, not really, manhandling you further up the bed. You whimpered but complied, too tired to do anything else; besides, you would do whatever Jack asked you to— too cock drunk to think of anything else. You simply wanted Jack to be satisfied, proud.

Without another word, Jack got up and captured your lips in a slow, ardent kiss. Your mouths moved together gently at first, then more urgently as he deepened the kiss. You melted into the touch, your hands coming up to grip Jack’s shoulders. You moaned softly as you tasted yourself on Jack’s tongue.

He pulled away momentarily, a thread of saliva connecting your lips. "Keep making those sounds and I swear to God, Sarah, you’re not leaving this bedroom today," he breathed, before claiming your mouth once more, kissing you hard, his hand tightening on your waist.

You whimpered into the kiss, your body thrumming with desire. You wanted more, needed more. Breaking the kiss, Jack trailed hot, open-mouthed kisses along your jaw and down your neck, nipping at the sensitive skin with his teeth. You tilted your head back, giving Jack better access, your hands moving up to thread through his silky hair.

Sucking and biting his way down your neck, Jack left a trail of wet, purpled marks, marking you as his. You squirmed under the sensation, a keening whine escaping your throat. "Jack... please," you begged, not sure exactly what you were asking for, but knowing you needed something.

Jack stepped away for a moment, touching your pussy with cold, firm fingers, spreading your slick all over it.

"Shh, I've got you," Jack murmured, continuing his onslaught on your skin.

Jack said nothing as he inserted one finger inside your hotness, a fuck leaving his lips because, fuck, you were tight. He rubbed your clit, side to side, until it mixed with the remains of his saliva, getting it all wet and messy. He inserts another one, making you clench around his index and middle finger.

“You need to relax for me, baby,” Jack whispered, voice gentle once again.

“I’m, I’m— ah,” You moan, voice raspy and soft.

“Come on, pretty.”

You try your hardest— and you hope Jack can tell— and relax, making it easier for both of you. Jack fucks his two fingers inside you, curling them and searching for the thing that’ll have you whimpering under him like a slut.

He finds it after a second or two, making your body move up and up, trying to get away from Jack’s touch and he understands— you had told him it’d been a while (years) since you had sex for the last time and you had just came pretty hard so it was pretty easy for you to get overwhelmed.

Jack wouldn’t have any of it though. “Take it, pretty. If you fucking move again you’re going to take care of yourself alone because I won’t tolerate any fucking brats,” he breathed, watching as you gripped the sheets harder and— tears coming out of your eyes.

“No, no, Jack, please—” you begged and moaned at the same time because, fuck. Jack had just inserted his third finger in you and fuckfuckfuck. “‘m good. I promise. I-I’m good, y-you said it, I’m good, I’ll come, just— Christ, I’m gonna.”

It’s too early for you to be orgasming again, you’re both are aware of it, but; you’re coming and shouting and trashing, your cum coming out of you like you’re fucking squirting. Jack takes his fingers out of you, wiping them in the dark sheets, just to take a good look at you.

“Baby,” Jack whispered, knowing that you were probably deep inside subspace and everything could be too much. “Can you give me one more? Mhm?”

“I-I can’t.”

“How are you feeling, doll?”

“Good,” you whispered, like you were telling Jack a secret.

“Then you can, and you will,” you could hear the smile in his voice, even though you couldn’t see; you had his eyes closed once again. He manhandled you again, arranging you on the bed so your head was laying against the fluffy pillows and your back was on the bed. “You’ll give me one more, baby, and then you can rest. How does that sound, hmm?”

You nodded and just when Jack was about to remind you about your little rule, you opened your eyes and stared so deeply into Jack’s that he forgot about everything for a second. Jack knew he should always get a verbal answer and that he was probably being irresponsible but you seemed to be speaking with him with just a stare and Jack was weak, so, so weak that he just mirrored your action and nodded too.

He lined the tip of his cock with your hole, pushing forward and moaning because even with preparation you were still tight and squeezing his dick and fuck. He sank deeper and deeper until his crotch touched your bottom making you both moan at the same time. Tears were falling from your eyes and your lips were opened, sinful sounds making their way out.

“Fuck,” Jack moaned, resting his forehead on your shoulder. “You’re taking me so well, princess. You were made for me, weren’t you?”

“Ngh—” your eyes were full of tears and you felt his dick twitch inside you. God, he needed to fuck the shit out of you before you exploded.

“I’m gonna fuck you now, baby, okay?” He warned, even though you were like a putty in his arms and he knew it was going to be hard for you to be verbal at that moment; you would need to discuss ways of communicating when you couldn’t properly speak but for now, you’d just try your hardest and hope for the best.

If there is a next time… right?

He put his arms behind yours, locking you up and he then really fucked you. His pace was fast and his thrusts were strong and accurate, hitting your sweet spot every time. You had tears all over your face, saliva all over your mouth and chin, looking like the cheapest fucking whore Jack could ever find. Whining to the point of making Jack’s own head dizzy.

“Ah, ngh, mmgh,” was all you would say, hands almost yanking all of Jack’s hair but he didn’t mind, no, of course not— not when you sounded like a bitch in heat, moans so sweet and delicious that felt like the syrup he liked to add to his breakfast pancakes sometimes. “T-too much, too— mmhmm.”

“Take it, sweetheart,” Jack was thrusting you like your lives depended on it. “Take it like the perfect fucking doll you are, baby, come on, pretty.”

You actually screamed when you came for the third time, almost no cum coming out at all, but your clit felt more sensitive than ever, it was too much and Jack was still hitting your spot like a maniac and Christ—

“You came all over yourself, yeah? Good—” a thrust. “Fucking—” another. “Girl—” another.

Jack kept chasing after his own release and when he felt like he couldn’t hold it anymore, he left your inside just to cum on your tummy. You were fully crying now, sobbing quietly.

Jack looked at you, fondly, feeling his heart beating faster than it ever did. He knew you needed him but he couldn’t leave you dirty, so he lifted himself briefly, just enough to reach his shirt on the nightstand, which he used to wipe the cum, sweat and saliva on your— now— fucked body.

“Shh, baby, I’m here,” Jack whispered, not wanting to overwhelm you even more. He laid down beside you, wrapping your body gently in his arms and laying your head on his chest, covering you both completely with the duvet— that thankfully hadn’t gotten dirty nor wet. “I got you, sweetheart.”

“Was I g-good?” You whispered after a while, voice small and hoarse. Jack chuckled, combing his fingers through your locks.

“Yeah, baby,” he whispered back, placing a gentle kiss on the younger’s forehead, making you lean in closer. “So fucking good.”

You heard a soft hum and it made you smile. There, with your head on his chest, and the warmth of his body close to his, you realised something: you were utterly fucked because you liked Jack Hughes so fucking much.

You started all of this because you wanted to date Zack, and prove to yourself that you can please him in bed, like any other girl.

But in fact, you don’t want to do that anymore.

Phase four of getting Zack to like you. Phase one of getting Jack to like you…?

[oldsoul007]

not a lot, just forever

joel miller x reader

summary: joel keeps grieving about what could’ve been of you two had kids…

a/n: angsty but also fluffy

joel miller masterlist

Joel leaned against the weathered railing of the porch, the cool evening breeze ruffling his shirt as he watched y/n through the open door. She was inside the house, cradling Tommy and Maria’s baby in her arms, her soft laughter mingling with the gentle cooing of the infant.

The sight hit him harder than he expected.

He had seen y/n with children before—she was great with them, always patient, always so gentle. But seeing her hold that tiny, perfect little thing, with a look on her face that could only be described as tender longing, made something shift deep in Joel’s chest. It was a quiet ache, one that had been there for years but had never been so sharp before.

He knew that look. He had seen it in the way she held Sarah when she was younger, the way she’d always cared for the people around her. But now, watching her with Tommy and Maria’s baby, he realized something he’d never allowed himself to think too deeply about: the family she might’ve wanted—the life they could’ve had—was a dream that had been stolen from both of them by the outbreak.

Joel clenched his jaw, trying to swallow down the lump in his throat.

It wasn’t fair.

Not to y/n. Not to anyone, really. They had lost so much, so much that words couldn’t even begin to explain. But when he saw her, holding that baby, a different kind of loss settled over him, one that felt heavier than the weight of everything else.

He could never give her that. He could never be the man who could offer her the kind of future she deserved. He had tried, in the early days, to imagine a life beyond survival. But he knew better now. Every time he let his guard down, every time he allowed himself to hope for something, the world seemed to take it all away again. And this… this was one thing he could never give her—something simple, something pure: a family. A child of their own.

He pushed himself off the railing and took a deep breath. The ache in his chest was still there, gnawing at him, but he wouldn’t let it show. Not now. Not when y/n was happy, not when she was in a moment that brought her peace. She didn’t need him to carry that weight for her.

Stepping inside, he paused in the doorway, watching her with the baby in her arms. She was smiling down at the infant, her eyes soft with a mixture of affection and something Joel couldn’t quite name. She looked up and caught his gaze, her smile widening in that way that always made his chest tighten, even in moments like this.

“Hey,” I said softly, my voice warm and inviting. “Come on in. Maria said we could keep her for a little while longer.”

Joel nodded, his throat tight. He didn’t trust himself to say much, not with the lump still lodged there. Instead, he stepped closer, his footsteps quiet on the wooden floor.

He reached out, brushing a lock of hair from my face. I tilted my head slightly, my smile turning into something softer, understanding.

“I know,” I said quietly, reading him in a way only I could. “I know what you’re thinking.”

Joel gave a small shake of his head. “I don’t know what you mean.”

I didn’t push, just offered him a look that was equal parts sadness and understanding. “It’s okay, Joel,” I murmured, my hand reaching out to rest on his. “I’m okay. We’re okay. It’s just… a moment.”

He swallowed hard, his hand trembling slightly as he placed it over hers. “I should’ve been able to give you that,” he said before he could stop himself, the words spilling out before he could rein them in.

I was silent for a moment, my gaze flicking to the baby in my arms before meeting his eyes again. “You gave me so much more than that,” I replied, my voice steady but full of emotion. “You gave me your trust. Your love. And you gave me the chance to live again, to be here. That’s all I’ve ever needed, Joel.”

The words settled over him like a balm, soothing the raw ache that had been gnawing at him. He let out a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding, and for the first time in what felt like forever, the heaviness lifted, even if just a little.

He looked at her, really looked at her—the woman who had stayed by his side through the worst of it all. And in that moment, he realized that he didn’t need to give her the things he’d lost. What mattered was the life they had now, the one they were building together, despite everything that had come before.

He took the baby from my arms, his hands steady as he held the tiny life against his chest. She smiled softly at him, the love in her eyes undeniable.

And for once, Joel allowed himself to believe that maybe this—just this—was enough.

I sit on the couch, staring out the window at the setting sun, trying to settle the mix of emotions swirling in my chest. I know Joel’s been brooding; I could feel it even before he walked into the room. His footsteps are soft but heavy, his presence unmistakable as he steps inside

He doesn’t say anything right away, just stands there in the doorway. I can feel his eyes on me, on the empty bassinet where the baby had been sleeping earlier.

I don’t look at him. Instead, I say, “You’ve been quiet all day.”

He lets out a low sigh, stepping further into the room. “Just been thinkin’.”

I nod, knowing what’s coming but not sure I want to hear it.

“She is… somethin’ else, wasn’t she?” he says after a moment, his voice soft. “You looked good with her, y/n. Real good.”

I finally turn to look at him, leaning back into the couch. “She’s a sweet baby. But you know it’s not about her, Joel. Just say what you’re thinking.”

He hesitates, his eyes drifting back to the bassinet. “I can’t help it,” he finally says, his voice thick with emotion. “Holdin’ her, watchin’ you with her… I keep thinkin’ about what could’ve been. If the world hadn’t fallen apart. If we’d had a chance to…” He trails off, his voice catching. “To have a family of our own.”

My stomach twists, and I take a steadying breath. “Joel…”

He shakes his head, looking down at the floor. “I think about Sarah, about how things might’ve been different. I think about Ellie. And then I see you with that baby, and all I can think is… we never got the chance.”

I sit up, folding my hands in my lap. I know this pain. I feel it too, but I’ve had years to reckon with it, to make peace with what life took from us. “What do you want me to say, Joel?” I ask softly. “That I wish we could’ve had kids together? Of course I do. There was a time when I wanted that more than anything.”

He looks at me then, his face a mix of regret and longing, his hands still shoved deep into his pockets.

“But that’s not how life worked out,” I continue, my voice steady even as my heart aches. “And it’s okay to feel the loss of what could’ve been. But Joel, you’re all I need. You always have been.”

He stares at me for a long moment, his jaw tight, his eyes searching mine. “You mean that?”

I nod, giving him a small, sad smile. “I do. We’ve been through hell and back, Joel. And I wouldn’t trade what we have for anything. I just need you. That’s enough for me.”

Joel exhales slowly, like he’s been holding his breath. “I’m sorry, y/n,” he says quietly. “For not seein’ it sooner. For… not bein’ enough.”

I reach out, taking his hand in mine, squeezing it gently. “You are enough. You’ve always been enough. We’re here now, Joel. That’s what matters.”

The room falls quiet again, but the tension has eased. Joel sits down beside me on the couch, his shoulder brushing against mine. He doesn’t say anything else, and neither do I.

The bassinet is empty, but the space between us feels full—of love, of pain, of all the things we’ve lost and found together. And as the sun dips below the horizon, I lean into him, letting the silence say everything that words can’t.

“She’s lucky to have you watchin’ over her,” he says, his voice lighter now.

“And she’s lucky to have you around too,” I reply, a small smile tugging at my lips. “Uncle Joel has a nice ring to it.”

He chuckles, the faintest hint of a smile on his face. “Guess it does.”

We stand there for a moment, the weight of the past still there but just a little easier to carry. For now, that’s enough.

[saintsanddevils]

Never Alone - pt 2

Aaric Graycastle x Fem!Reader

Summary: You’re called to the Fourth Wing, much to Aaric’s annoyance.

Warnings: Iron Flame spoilers, ANGST, yearning, slow burn friends-to-lovers, dual POV (Reader & Aaric)

Word Count: 2.5K

Part One | Part Three

————

-Rider’s Quadrant-

(Reader POV)

My thighs are burning and my feet ache from climbing those damn stairs when I finally reach the top. The line of recruits is going by faster now. I’m hoping this means it’s almost over. Or maybe more people are falling to their deaths on the parapet.

Shit, this is such a bad idea.

I close my eyes to calm my breathing, counting backwards from 100 before I can feel the nerves slowly dissipate. I try to tap into that earlier anger and frustration. Remembering when I found Cam’s room empty and barren, a half-ass letter about touring the country twisting my gut. He’d never do such a frivolous thing. Halden would, but not Cam. Besides, he would’ve invited me to go with him. The fact that he didn’t was his first mistake.

Now, I’m sweaty, tired, and grumpy and about to strangle the life out of a Prince of Navarre.

I’m next in line when I freeze. Violet Sorrengail stares at me in horror. I’ve known her for far too long that I recognize the waves of shock, worry, and sorrow flit through her hazel eyes.

It’s Dain who speaks first, startling me by his presence.

“You’ve got to be fucking kidding me,” he mutters low enough so only the three of us can hear. “You too?”

I steel my spine, pinching my nails into my palms to keep myself from bolting. If Cam wants to get himself caught up in a war, I’m going to make sure he doesn’t die.

“Y/N… Thorne,” I wince, knowing I just used my mother’s maiden name. Hopefully, no one will see the connection. It’s too late now.

Both Violet and Dain stare openly, the latter looking as though he’ll crack a tooth from grinding his teeth so hard. Violet looks more understanding with the way her face begins to soften.

“I know why you’re here,” she says. “But I don’t think anyone can stop him.”

I narrow my gaze. “I know, that’s why I’ve come to make sure he doesn’t break that pretty neck of his.”

Violet’s mouth almost curves into a smile while Dain shakes his head in obvious annoyance.

“Let’s just invite the entire palace, while we’re at it,” he murmurs to himself.

“Y/N Thorne,” I repeat.

Violet nods, motioning to the woman next to her to write it down.

I turn away from them only to stop when Violet whispers, “Don’t die, Y/L/N.”

I smirk before stepping onto the parapet. “Promise, Sorrengail.”

——————————————

“Aaric Graycastle to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.”

Aaric Graycastle. I scoff. He must’ve made that last name up. I recognize his middle name, and I promise myself not to give in and tell him how much it suits him. He has enough arrogance as it is.

I don’t take my eyes off his sandy-brown hair as he makes his way to stand in the first row of the Fourth Wing, a few feet away from Violet in the second row. He stands perfectly straight as he waits next to a girl who looks like she might puke at any second.

The crowd of cadets thins the longer we stand here until the woman on the dais draws my attention away from Aaric. “Y/N Thorne to Second Squad, Flame Section, Second Wing—“

Dain stops her, speaking quickly before she nods, and he steps away, meeting my gaze.

“Correction,” she continues. “Y/N Thorne to Second Squad, Flame Section, Fourth Wing.”

I give Dain a nod of appreciation as I make my way over to Aaric’s and Violet’s wing. Violet gives me a look of relief, but as I look for Aaric, he’s glaring up at Dain on the dais.

“Miss me?” I mutter as I walk by him.

His tight fists are white by the time I find a spot in line. I’m two people away from him, but there could practically be no one around with the way I’m entirely too aware of his presence. He’s taller than all the first years, broader too, making it easy to see him in my peripheral.

Time moves quickly as speeches are made and when the dragons land heavily on the roof of the courtyard, panic grips me by the throat. Screams fill the air as they assess us like prey. They’re huge. This isn’t the first time I’ve seen a dragon, but it’s still just as terrifying. Survival instincts rise up and I feel myself begin to take a step back. A large hand suddenly grips my wrist, stopping me.

“Don’t move.”

Aaric is now beside me, holding me from bolting from the courtyard. With how quick he is in a fight, I’m not shocked he was able to maneuver his way next to me before the dragons could take notice.

His fingers tighten before slowly moving down my wrist to my palm, over the small scar, to the tips of my fingers. Warmth rushes through me from his touch, calming the rising panic. He slips his hand around mine and squeezes until they’re bound tightly together.

I count my breaths as he holds on to me, never letting go for a second. Not even as the new recruits around us scream and run for the parapet behind us.

Aaric suddenly stiffens as a one-eyed Orange Daggertail swivels its head towards them. And we’re directly in the way.

The dragon opens its massive jaw.

“Get down!” I hear Violet shout behind us just as Aaric lunges, tackling me to the gravel. He covers my body with his as fire blazes above us, close enough that the heat is practically suffocating. I curl to touch my forehead to the ground, holding back tears as a wave of overwhelming fear crashes over me.

I will not die.

I will not die.

I will. Not. Die.

I begin to count backwards from 100, breathing in and out, slowly. The crescendo of screams slowly begins to die down the longer we lie here, but the smell of burning flesh intensifies.

“You’re okay,” Aaric whispers in my ear. His breath tickles the skin of my neck. “Stay still. Keep counting, that’s it. In and out.”

I don’t acknowledge how I must be muttering the numbers aloud. I keep counting, as he instructed. My body trembles beneath his as I feel him slide his hands into mine. He tightens his fingers, grounding me.

I’m reminded of a time when I nearly drowned in the frozen lake near Cam’s winter home. We were reckless and young, and I remember him pulling me from the ice as he screamed for his guards. He was so scared as he held me on the shore, panicking over my lips turning blue. The way he held my hands, his warmth burrowing deep inside my bones as he wrapped around me, is similar to the way he holds me now. It’s achingly familiar.

As quickly as it came, the fire dies. Sulfur and burning flesh still fill the air.

And Aaric hasn’t let go of me.

His body cages me, his chest to my back. His breathing matching mine as I slowly rise out of the fog of fear. It lingers, but I’m more clear-headed now. And I’m now more aware of Aaric’s closeness. It’s been years since we were this close to each other, and the thought sends blistering heat up my body into my cheeks.

Now is not the time.

Aaric slowly rises, his weight lifting from me as he continues to hold my hand to help me scramble to stand next to him.

My heart swells with the idea of him protecting me, keeping me safe, but anxiety rushes over me as the smell of burning still lingers around us.

I look him up and down. “Are you hurt?”

He’s doing the same thing to me as he shakes his head. “No, I’m fine. Thank, Malek.” His hand squeezes mine, lingering before reluctantly releasing. He drops it back to his side quickly. “Are you?”

I shake my head, staring up into those concerned green eyes of his as everyone around us tries to get back into formation.

“Thank you,” I whisper.

Aaric visibly swallows before he nods and shifts to stand facing the dais. I catch sight of Violet over his shoulder, and besides her smoldering jacket, she seems okay. Her wide eyes meet mine, and she nods towards the line.

Right.

I turn away from Aaric and stand with my back straight, trying to keep still as Lyron Panchek yells from the dais to get everyone in order.

The trembling has settled now that I know I’m still breathing. In its place, guilt has settled like lead in my stomach. The gravity of what I’m doing is startlingly clear now. I could die any day at any moment. All because of my unwavering loyalty to the one man I’ve ever… I swallow that emotion down before it escalates any further.

I need to stay focused.

I would’ve been dead moments ago if it weren’t for Aaric. And because of me, he almost got hurt or worse. I can’t let that happen. Even if we’re in the one place guaranteeing we’ll die with even one misstep, I need to keep him alive.

No matter the cost.

————

(Aaric POV)

Aaric is waiting in the shadows outside of the girls’ dormitory when Y/N finally steps out. With the night cloaking him, he quickly grabs her from behind. She turns in time to throw her elbow into his stomach on instinct. Aaric drops his hands from her, holding his torso as pain racks up his ribs.

“Good shot,” he coughs.

Her eyes widen before she pushes him back into the corner he was hiding in.

“What the hell, Ca-“ she catches herself before continuing at a lower volume. “What the hell, Aaric?”

He leans against the stone, breathing deeply as he holds his stomach. “Well, I was hoping you and I could talk, but clearly you’d rather beat me up first.”

She rolls her eyes at him. “It’s your own fault for creeping around in the dark. You’re far too comfortable kidnapping me, it seems.”

Aaric can’t help the laugh that barks its way out of his mouth, causing pulses of pain from his newly bruised rib.

She visibly softens at the sound, her mouth twitching before she looks away to hide her smile. Aaric clenches his hand to resist the urge of grabbing her by the chin so he can see it.

“Well,” she leans against the opposite wall, giving each other ample space. Space Aaric really doesn’t want to give her, but he doesn’t move from his spot. “What is it? Curfew is in a few minutes.”

Aaric nods. “That won’t matter much longer because I found you a way out of here.”

She startles. “What?”

“Don’t worry, Dain will take you. He’ll escort you back home, and you can—“

In the next blink, she’s suddenly before him. Just as he steps back, hitting the wall, her hand reaches up to wrap around the collar of his leathers.

“Don’t make me slap you again,” she says slowly, menacingly. “Because I won’t hesitate.”

Aaric doesn’t doubt it. The tenderness of his cheek reminds him that she didn’t hesitate earlier.

“You listen to me, because I guess I wasn’t clear enough before,” she leans forward, her eyes blazing as she pulls him down by the collar so he’s inches from her face. “If you’re staying, I’m staying. You’re getting a dragon? I’ll get myself a damn dragon—”

“And what?!” He stops her, his voice gaining volume as the last of his patience wears thin, making him cling to desperation. “I jump, you jump, I die, you die? Is that what this is?” He shakes his head. Over his dead body would he let her die because of him. “I’m not going to let that happen, Y/N. You’re going home.”

“It’s not up to you,” she shakes her head before letting him go and stepping away as if he burned her. “You’re so concerned for me? Then stay alive. I’m not going anywhere.”

She tries to move past him to the door, but he crowds her against the wall, holding her hostage. Fury lights her eyes as she bears her teeth at him like a caged animal.

“Let me go, Cam.”

Aaric gives her a smirk as sharp as a blade. “Sorry, I don’t know who you’re talking about.”

She scoffs. “You’re being ridiculous.”

“And you’re being unnecessarily difficult.”

She glares up at him, and it’s only when the flames from a distant torch light her eyes that he softens his hold. He feels her chest brushing his, breathing heavily against him. Her skin pulses against his fingers as he holds her wrists to the wall. His thigh between hers to keep her from kicking.

This close, her scent is intoxicating, making his head swim with indecision. If this were an entirely different situation, he’d be trying to hold himself back from finally leaning down and capturing her soft lips with his—

He steps away, setting her free. Grinding his teeth, he watches her face contort from annoyance to confusion. He thanks every god he can think of for the darkness of the corridor.

“You can’t stay,” he chokes out. This plan went to hell, and now he has nothing left but to beg. “Please… Please don’t stay here.”

She tries to reclaim the space they lost by stepping forward, but he steps back. It’s better this way, or else he’ll never let her go.

“As long as you’re here, I’m staying.” Her voice is soft, calm. A part of him wishes she was yelling at him instead. It’d be easier that way.

Can’t she see how scared he is? How terrified he’s been since that deranged dragon tried to burn her to ash? He knows it’ll haunt him. He can’t live with himself if she ends up on that gods-forsaken death roll one morning.

Guilt creates a hole in his chest as she turns away, heading back to her dorm.

“Tell Dain if he’s going to take me back, I’m going down fighting. And if you ask him to do this for you ever again,” she gives him a cold, dead stare. “I’ll tell every single person who you are and find a way to ensure your father knows exactly where to find you.”

The threat stings, but he knew she’d use it. She held every card the second she stepped off the parapet. If only she knew how close he’d come to leaving when he saw tears in her eyes after the dragon’s fire.

“I can’t-“ he swallows, closing his eyes to compose himself. “I can’t watch you die.”

She doesn’t look back as she twists open the door. “Then don’t look.”

[themissinghand]

Hello..I hope you have a wonderful day..I'm glad to see you..Can I ask Sung Jinwoo x cheerful female reader..Reader met Jinwoo for the first time when he was still E rank..Reader fell in love with him first ..She is always by Jinwoo's side when Jinwoo is always looked down upon by others.She also helps Jinwoo financially because she want to help him as much as possible.And the Reader meets Jinwoo's younger sister, Jinah and straight up says 'please let me marry your brother'..(Surely the situation will be lively with the behavior of both of them .(⁠≧⁠▽⁠≦⁠)..)..Jinah like aa okay??...Reader must be surprised when they see Jinwoo's new look.Reader be like: 'Where is my baby boy!!!.. As far as I know about he, he doesn't have a twin!!” dramatically…

Okay... Thank you... Take care of yourself(⁠◕⁠ᴗ⁠◕⁠✿⁠).. Hope you are not stressed by my request.. Bye-bye(⁠θ⁠‿⁠θ⁠)..

Solo Leveling: Little King, Big King

Summary: In which Jinwoo will always be your little king, even if puberty hits him hard.

Pairing: Sung Jinwoo x cheerful F! Reader

Note: Such a cute request! As well, thanks for your patience, sorry that I took so long! 

Warning: None! 

★・・・・・・★

“What is a kid doing here?”

Jinwoo perks up when he hears someone approach him. He turns around, seeing a taller girl staring at him with a cheeky smile. 

“Heya! Are you okay? Are you lost? How old are you?” She bombarded him with questions, and Jinwoo felt overwhelmed by her curiosity. Were she from another team? Probably, he had never met her before. 

“Hold on. You’re hurt.” She pulls out a potion, and without giving Jinwoo time to react, she immediately gave it to him. 

“Drink little guy. Next time, don’t wander into a dungeon by yourself alright? It’s dangerous.” 

“I’m 16.” Jinwoo deadpanned, and she gasped dramatically. 

“No way, me too!” She cheered, and Jinwoo sweatdropped at her cheerful personality. 

“Hold on, drink first. Then I’ll take you with me! You’re from the other team right? They abandoned you here? What a crazy bunch of adults!” Her words spew out of her easily, making Jinwoo a bit flustered in keeping up with her speed. Instead, he only nodded absentmindly, staring at the potion in his hand.

“Drink up little guy. What are you waiting for? Big sister will help you.” She grinned, and waited for him. 

Big sister? We're literally the same age.

Seeing her insistence, he drank the potion anyway, feeling his injuries and fatigue wash away.

“Now you look better! Come on, I’ll help you get back to your family.” She extended her hand that was also full of calluses. Was she also working like him?

“My name is (L/N) (Y/N)! What’s your name?” 

“...Sung Jinwoo.” He accepted her hand, and she shakes his hand firmly. 

“I finally met someone my age in the dungeons!” She then started leading the way, leading him away from his team who had already abandoned him, and toward another group of people. 

“I’m a gunslinger by the way, so I use guns. I’m only a C-rank though, but I have good eyes like a scout! What about you?” He flinches when she asked, and he felt ashamed of his own weakness. 

“I’m an E-rank hunter.” Jinwoo pull apart, feeling the embarrassment settle in, and he didn’t dare to look up at (Y/N), after all, she probably is disappointed-

“Okay, do you want to come with me?” Despite it all, your cheerful expression did not falter. 

Well, it’s better than here. 

Jinwoo took your hand without looking back.

Jinwoo was used to the judging eyes and disapproving looks. 

So he was bewildered to see you blissfully walk past them without a single care in the world. 

Were you just simply ignorant? 

“Ignore them. They’re always gonna judge others and put us down.” Jinwoo felt a squeeze.

“I know how you feel.” Jinwoo wondered what expression you have now, and when you turned around, you had a gentle smile on your face. 

“Come on, I’ll treat you to some convenient store food. I’m starving and I earned enough.” 

Jinwoo followed her into the store, and watched her skip and twirl until she stopped in front of instant ramen. Then, she shoved it towards him. 

Before Jinwoo could say anything, she patted his shoulder. 

“At times like this, we have to stick together! Just because we poor, doesn’t mean we’re a doormat!” 

Jinwoo blinked, but he couldn’t hold back his laugh. 

“Aww, you’re so cute when you laugh! Like a teddy bear!” Her compliment made him blush and hide away, but she didn’t stop pestering him about it until they finally got their ramen ready to eat.

“Hey, add my number, you’re in a tough spot right?” Jinwoo flinches, feeling shame, but seeing your concerned face, he felt relieved. 

“I’ll help you, and when you grow up, you can pay me back! Promise?” Sticking out your pinky like a child, you grinned brightly. 

Jinwoo could only smile gratefully, before locking pinkies. 

There and then, a promise was made.

“Mom! Jinwoo-oppa got fried chicken for us! And he brought a friend over!” 

It’s been a couple of months since that promise, and to his surprise, you didn't break the promise. In fact, you supported him...a lot.

“Oh dear, you didn’t have to.” 

“Nice to meet you Auntie, my name is (L/N) (Y/N), and this one's on me. Don’t worry!” 

“You’re too sweet, but we can’t-” 

“It’s okay! Jinwoo helped me a lot, so this is me paying him back!” 

JInwoo watched as you debated with his mom, going back and forth until his mom gave in with a smile. 

Before he knew it, everyone gathered around the table and began digging in. Soon, Jinah began bombarding you with questions, such as how you met, and-

“Do you like my oppa?” 

“Of course I do! I’ll marry him when I grow up!” 

Jinwoo froze in embarrassment, while his mom was simply a little bit surprised, before a cheeky and playful look replaced it quickly, just like his little sister. 

“Really?” 

“Yep! He’s the cutest boy I’ve ever met! He’s so sweet and cuddly like a teddy bear-” Jinwoo slaps a hand over your mouth while his face remains bright red. 

He felt your lips move still, as if joking or teasing him. 

He felt questioning and teasing stares from his family, and he knew that they would never let this go. 

One meal turned into multiple, until your presence became a norm at his little home. 

“Auntie! I got you and Jinah some skincare! You have to try this!” And your relationship with his mom and sister has grown a lot. 

A little too much. 

“Aigoo, you didn’t have to buy something so expensive for us.” 

“It’s okay Auntie! You always make me delicious food!” 

“Oppa.” Dazed, it took Jinwoo a moment to direct his attention to his sister, who had her arms crossed.

“When are you going to marry (Y/N)-unnie?” 

“W-What?!” She rolled her eyes at him. 

“You better marry her soon or else someone is gonna steal her away!” His sister gives him a little pat of encourage before she runs off towards you and his mom and joining in on the skincare talk. 

He watches as you turn towards him and gave a cheeky little grin before you were tackled into a hug by Jinah. 

Can you really ask you for marriage? Does he have the right to ask you when he’s still this weak? He still needs to rely on you to survive. 

He can’t, at least not now. 

When he grows up, Jinwoo promises to pay you back and protect you. 

He just hopes that day will come soon. 

“Jinwoo!”

He can’t die now. 

Even if his vision is blurred by blood or if hope is nothing but a bitter dream. 

He won’t die here. 

“Jinwoo?” 

Just as surprised as you were, Jinwoo noticed that he was much taller than you now. He chuckled, noticing how you seemed very confused as you peaked around him, as if analyzing and trying to figure out what is going on. 

“Jinwoo doesn’t have a twin right…?”

“(Y/N), it’s me.” 

It took a moment for you to process before you held his arms as your eyes turned glossy. Jinwoo panicked as he saw you were going to cry, until you suddenly squeeze his cheeks. 

“Where did my cute teddy bear go! I mean you’re still handsome but...my little king!” He felt a harsh tug and he stumbled forward into your arms. 

“How did puberty hit you this hard!? Was it because you were cursed and then after you woke up from a coma, you finally were able to grow?” 

What is this? Some cliche manhwa plot? 

Jinwoo pull you apart easily, shocking you again, but instead he pulls you into a hug. 

“Don’t worry, I’m still your teddy bear.” 

“But you’re too big for me to spoon you now!” Jinwoo bursts out laughing at your pouting face which is full of disappointment. 

“(Y/N), I’ll spoon you.” Before you could say another word, he holds your hand tightly. 

“(Y/N), remember our promise long ago?” You nod slowly, clearly missing his old self. 

“I’ll protect you, and pay you back for everything you did for me and my family.” 

“You don’t have to-” 

“It’s a promise, and we pinky promised it.” 

“Not fair! How come your puppy eyes are still the same even when you’re big!” You playfully cross your arms, before a cheeky grin appeared on your lips. 

“Fine, treat me to fried chicken okay?” 

“Anything you want.” 

“Let me spoon you?” Jinwoo laughs. 

“If you can.” He ruffles your hair, making you jump and punch him playfully. 

“Jinwoo! This is why I like your little version better! At least he was cute and he listens to me-” Jinwoo pulls you closer by the waist, making you yelp by instinct. 

“Am I still not cute?” You push him away. 

“You’re handsome, not cute. There’s a difference.” Jinwoo smirks when he sees you turn away with a blush on your cheeks. 

“Unnie, you can just marry him and then when you have children, there will be mini-versions of him again!” 

“Jinah!” 

JInwoo laughs, that actually doesn’t sound too bad.