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bratbarzal · 2 months ago

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Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No school? Check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserves better.

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

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

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

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

Luke Hughes loves summer.

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

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

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

He does love living with his brother.

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

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

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

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know her?”

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

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since when do you work here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes of your time?”

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

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

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

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know who you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

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

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

Us. Oh, he likes that.

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

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

“A nudge, then?”

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

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

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

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

“How profound.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fun.

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

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

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

“We could make a competition out of it.”

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

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

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t see that happening.”

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

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

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

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

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

But God, you were pretty.

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

“I’m Luke.”

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

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

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He admires when you come out wakeboarding with the group, when you let him fasten you into a vest and don’t flinch when his fingertips brush against bare skin. Watches you bite your tongue over the fact you just got your hair blow dried - a fact you have no problems relaying back to him when he drives you to work the next day, and you’re muttering in his passenger seat about lake water giving you frizz - just so you’re not dampening the mood.

And when you agree to tag along to the golf course on your day off, despite the fact it’s so close to work if could be considered triggering, and you stick by Luke’s side so that Ellie can feign some sort of incompetence until Jack takes it upon himself to correct her form.

You stand by Luke’s side, the two of you watching with mirrored expressions of almost-disgust as Jack wraps his arms around Ellie’s body, and send a shiver down his spine when you lean in for only him to hear as you say, “I’d ask if you’ve put any more thought into what you want out of our bet, but I so have this in the bag.”

The bet.

Luke hasn’t thought about it since that day in the restaurant, if he’s honest, but he had known what he wanted then.

He’s hardly going to tell you, now, though.

If he’s ever going to take you out on a date, he doesn’t really want to force your hand - not that he has a chance, he’s fallen so behind with this Jack and Ellie thing that it isn’t even funny.

He needs to up his game, if only for the fact that you’ll no doubt catch on to his lack of efforts, soon.

“I wouldn’t be so sure,” he taunts, because it’s what he does best, “I have a few tricks up my sleeve.”

“And how long do you plan on keeping them up there?” You call him out so easily, tilting your head when his eyes meet yours, mischief highlighted by the sunshine that speckles in your irises.

“Maybe I’m luring you into a false sense of security,” he shrugs, “Maybe I’m letting you do all the heavy lifting so I can swoop in when those weak arms get tired.” He pokes at your side, basking in the way you scowl like you pertain any sort of threat to him.

He has you figured out, by now.

“I didn’t have you pegged as being lazy, Hughes.”

“You spend a lot of time thinking about me, huh?”

“You wish,” you scoff, shoving when he dares to get too close, and it’s when Luke is biting back a full-blown grin that Ellie comes back over.

“This sun is crazy, I think I left the sunscreen in the locker room and Jack’s nose is going all red, would you come back with me?”

You smile sweetly at your best friend and agree, only glaring at Luke over Ellie’s shoulder when she’s distracted with saying her brief, temporary goodbyes to Jack, and once you’ve turned and made your way over to the cart, he lets his eyes linger on your figure as you retreat.

The soft sway of your ponytail, the expanse of smooth skin along your legs, he’s completely hypnotised, and he needs to pull himself together, he thinks.

He tries to regain focus as he and Jack work their way through the next couple of holes, caddying their clubs around without the cart, and chatting mindlessly until Jack sighs heavily, like he’s been waiting to bring something up.

“I want to take Ellie out on the boat tomorrow,” He states as Luke tees up, resting on his club as he squints against the sun to watch his little brother, “Just the two of us, so we can talk about stuff.”

“Sounds riveting,” the disinterest in Luke’s tone is amplified by the lack of attention he’s giving overall, looking out across the green and trying to measure his swing before he takes it. “Have fun.”

“I was thinking I’d need your help for it to work.”

“I’m not being your boat-butler again,” Luke scoffs, mind immediately going to all the times their parents would make Jack take Luke out with him and his friends, and all the times he was made to wait on his older brother hand and foot to make up for crashing his hang-outs.

“I’m not asking you to tag along,” Jack scoffs, “You third-wheeling would be the ultimate buzz-kill. I thought you could be of use elsewhere.”

“You’re making whatever it is sound so fun.”

Luke takes his swing, driving the ball and watching it soar to his desired point with a hand shielding his eyes from the sun. Jack watches too, stepping to Luke’s side to measure how far from his own ball it lands.

“Nice,” he mutters appreciatively as the two of them load their clubs into their stand bags. “I need you to keep Regina George busy, distract her or something, she’s stuck to Ellie like glue, it’s beyond annoying.”

If only he knew, Luke thinks, a worry in the back of his mind about how his brother owes more to you than he even realises.

“You worried she’s gonna make her see sense?”

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

“I’m worried she’s gonna ruin the good vibes like she usually does and I won’t be able to bite my tongue from saying something and looking like the asshole.”

Distracting you isn’t the worst thing he could be doing with his time, Luke thinks. It’s not like he has to go all out, you’ll no doubt be hanging out around the house and the two of you can hang together. All he has to do is keep you off your phone. Shouldn’t be too hard. You’ve adapted pretty well to mimicking the guys when it comes to staying off theirs.

It ticks off the box of trying to fight for a scrap of your attention. With no one else around, you’ll have no choice but to entertain his company.

And it puts him in front of your little race - lending a helping hand to Jack’s plans to talk to Ellie is surely the same as getting them together. It’s all falling so perfectly into his lap. He isn’t being lazy.

But he can’t let Jack know that, so he heaves out a sigh and offers a slow shake of his head for dramatic effect. “Fine,” he groans, “But you owe me. Big time.”

You’re starting to find it harder and harder to pretend like you don’t want to be at the Lake House.

If you’re being honest, you don’t entirely know why you’re even trying to keep up pretences, but using your disinterest as armour has become like second nature over the years, and you’re hardly going to stop now.

Even if there are already so many little things about being there that are starting to wear you down.

Quiet, early mornings, for one - birds chirping just outside your open window, sun rays pouring in through sheer curtains that flow in the slight breeze, that light feeling that blows through your chest when you’re sat out on the deck behind the house with a fresh cup of coffee, looking out over the still lake and basking in the peace of it all.

And even when it’s not so peaceful, when the kitchen is full of bodies swerving around each other to try and throw together some sort of breakfast spread - pastries and fruit, bacon and eggs, various boxes of cereal on the counter. Quinn had even made a whole batch of pancakes one morning, and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t come down every day since hoping to see him donning that same frilly apron that Cole had draped around his waist and working his magic with a pan.

You’ve never really been a part of such a full house. You had been an only child for so long - and by the time your parents split, and it was just you and your mom, on the days she wasn’t already at work when you got up - and were so ingrained in your own routine in the morning that you think you might actually need the chaos to function better. The rush of bodies, the arguments over who drank the last of the juice, the bickering over who’s turn it is to do the next grocery run - it’s a kind of entertainment you haven’t been privy to in a long time.

Being kind of disconnected from everything else isn’t as bad as you thought it would be, either. You’re not attached to your phone, checking socials to see what everyone else is doing, to see if your dad has sent any messages yet this summer, and you find yourself connecting a little more with the people around you and leaving your family stress on the back burner. You’re more focused on what’s in front of you, and your relationships with other people. With Ellie, with some of the guys in the house, with your friends at work, even.

And it’s nice to be closer to work too. You don’t have to rush around trying to make the bus - Luke has been keeping his word and driving you to the club most days, and where he can’t, either somebody else has offered, or you’ve just ridden one of the bikes in the garage that the boys said were free to use - the helmet hair is an easy fix when you have access to the locker rooms.

It’s an adjustment, for sure, getting used to being in a full house. Especially this one - with a constant revolving door of faces, friends of the brothers switching out week by week to come and stay, departing just as you’ve started getting to know them with a promise of dropping by again soon.

So far, you’re almost at double-digits for the names you’ve had to memorise. Some of them you were already familiar with, guys from Michigan who you already knew or knew of, but others were more Jack or Quinn’s friends that you’d never had the pleasure of meeting before now.

Cole Caufield being one of them.

He had arrived a couple of days after you and Ellie moved yourselves in, closer to Jack than the other two brothers, you had noticed, and was going to be staying longer than any of the other visitors - having his own designated room in the house, similar to you girls.

You like Cole - he’s good fun, can take a joke unlike his supposed best friend, and has the kind of smile that almost gives you a buzz whenever it’s flashed your way. Your first few interactions with him were seemingly pleasant, despite Jack constantly in his ear with a hardened glare pointed your way and no doubt unsavoury words uttered. Cole would just shrug him off, laugh, meet your eyes and drop a wink your way - a gesture you’d usually squirm and cringe at, but Cole kind of pulls it off.

He joins in when you chirp Luke, too - which, if your honest, is your main source of entertainment since arriving, so your interactions with him grow day by day.

You haven’t really spent any one-on-one time with Cole yet, though. You were hoping to, before he left to visit home for the weekend - for no other reason than to get the scoop on something you’d happened upon at work last week - and had planned on asking him to hang out on your day off. But with Cole now gone for a few days, Jack and Ellie off doing god knows what, Quinn and Luke working out wherever, you have no choice but to spend your free Sunday lounging around the house, trying to find something to suppress your growing boredom.

You start with your nails, painting them a summery orangey-red and doing your toes to match, then do your laundry, abiding by house rules that you rotate the loads between the machines, and fold out whoever’s clothes were last in the dryer and place them in the hamper on the side.

You’re hoping you haven’t had to fold Jack’s underwear but you decide to live in blissful ignorance - trying to identify the load based on the rest of the clothing in there is impossible when they all share, so it kind of works in your favour.

You FaceTime your mom for almost an hour, getting an update on what she’s been up to with work, and giving her updates on how your summer is going, trying to focus on your time at the club and Ellie so she doesn’t worry too much again that you’re spending your summer in a house filled with boys.

And by the time Luke and Quinn come back from their workout, you’re in the lounge, 50 pages deep into a book you really couldn’t care less about, but there’s something in you that refuses to beg one of them for company, so you suffer in silence.

Even when Luke does join you, throwing himself down onto the opposite side of the couch you’re occupying and pushing your feet off his side like it’s his sole purpose just to annoy you.

“I was comfortable there, asshat,” you frown, lifting your feet back into their previous position and using one to give him a light kick to his thigh.

“Yeah, well, I hardly want your feet all up in my business while I’m trying to relax,” he sighs, sinking into the cushions with hands clasped behind his head, biceps flexing and tightening the arms of his t-shirt in a way that momentarily catches your eye. You’re thankful for his closed eyes, chewing at the inside of your cheek as you divert your attention back to the mundane words on the pages in front of you.

“And yet here you are when there are 2 other couches.”

“Yeah, well, I know how much you like to be near me.”

You try to ignore him, pulling your feet a little closer to your body and focusing back on the book, but it’s hard when Luke has such a presence. You feel the little looks he keeps sending your way like a physical touch, and the couch shifts with every slight movement he makes, so when he constantly shuffles, you start to think he wants your attention.

Of course he wants your attention. This is Luke Hughes.

“Are you just sitting down here to annoy me?”

He lights up, like he’s just been waiting for you to ask, and shuffles in his seat to face you, fully, bouncing in place like a puppy being teased with a tennis ball.

“I’m actually trying to distract you, if you must know.”

“Bold of you to assume you have enough of my attention to be distracting in the first place,” you scoff, trying not to react to the way he smirks in your peripheral, the words in front of you all blurring together. If you were actually focused on them, you’d have lost your place, already.

“I think you pay more attention to me than you’d like to admit.”

“That’s some ego you’ve got on you, Hughes,” you narrow your eyes as you look above the edge of your book, “Is that what you spend that big NHL paycheque on, charisma classes? How to flirt for dummies?”

“Oh, is that what we’re doing? Flirting?”

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one.

Sometimes biting back at Luke comes like second nature, words first, thoughts after - and you’d be lying if you said you didn’t like it that way. It’s easy, the back and forth, and you can’t really think of an instance with him where you’ve sat in a lingering, awkward silence. You’ve really grown to hate silence, lately.

“You wish.”

“You think I’m charismatic,” he teases in a sing-song voice, knocking at your knee and wiggling his eyebrows when you glare at him.

“I think you’re an idiot.”

“You’re not gonna ask what I’m distracting you from?”

“I don’t really care,” you lie, eyes darting back down and diverting the attention he so desperately craves away from him.

“Jack wanted to take Ellie out on the boat.” He says, ignoring your attempts to ignore him - pushing your buttons like a full time job. Like an operator for your last nerve.

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

“Whoop-de-,” Luke straightens up, like a whack-a-mole with his head positioning itself over the top of your book, and you kind of wish you had one of those soft mallets right about now. It would be so satisfying to bonk at his head, you think. “What do you mean, whoop-de-doo, is this not what you agreed to be here for? To get them together?”

You scoff, flicking to the next page of the book in feigned disinterest. “He isn’t asking her out today.”

This is the exact something you had wanted to talk to Cole about - whispers in the staff lounge at work earlier in the week doing the rounds would imply otherwise, but your main source is kind of a gossip, and you’re not entirely sure of their reliability, despite the few degrees of separation to the subject at hand.

Mutterings of Jack and Cole and their little country club connections.

You can hardly ask Luke of all people if his brother is as much of a man-whore as everyone is making out. Cole was a safe bet - he’d probably just tell you straight up what they’re up to, wear his pride like a shining gold medal. He’s upfront about his promiscuity, at least. Luke is more protective. Of himself, of his family, you’re not entirely sure. There haven’t been as many whispers about him.

“How could you possibly know that?”

“Because he’s a spineless idiot,” you retort, eyes flicking up momentarily to take in his furrowed brow. “No offence,” comes out of nowhere, and you surprise yourself with the instinct to lessen the blow of your words for the first time in forever.

“None taken, he’s only my flesh and blood,” Luke huffs, “You’re just jealous I’m winning our bet.”

“Sure,” you drawl, eyes widening to emphasise the sarcasm as you make a point of angling your head to the next page, like you’ve taken a single word in for the past five minutes. “He’s been talking to one of the girls from work. There’s no way he’s doing that and asking Ellie out, unless he’s completely brain dead.”

And when you look back at Luke, that furrowed brow has shifted into a full blown frown, pouted lips and eyes cast down as if he’s trying to figure everything out in his head.

It’s probably the pout that has you cushioning your words, once more.

“Again, no offence, I doubt it’s in your DNA.”

“How do you know?”

“I’m no bio student but I don’t think there’s a genetic marker for being a fuckboy.”

“No, about him talking to one of the girls at the club. He didn’t tell me that.”

Why does he have to sound like that? Let down and unsure, quieter than you think you’ve ever heard him. It’s like the tone he carries goes straight to your fingers, clasping the book closed without marking your page - because what business do you have carrying on that charade?

“Do you guys tell each other everything?” You ask as you throw the book until it lands on the coffee table with a gentle thud, shuffling until you’re sat against the arm of the couch with knees bent in front of you, giving him your undivided attention and feeling guilty that it might not be enough.

“I thought we did,” he scratches at the back of his head, nervously, “He literally told me yesterday he was taking her out to talk about stuff, why would he make a point of asking me to keep you busy if he’s not serious about asking her out?”

“You don’t want to hear my answer to a question about your brother not being serious.”

“Who’s the girl?” He asks, ignoring your comment despite the slight ghost of a smile you see flash into the corner of his mouth.

“Jessica, she works at the pro shop, apparently they’ve been texting all summer.”

You know for a fact that since you’ve started paying attention, you’ve seen Jack on his phone a lot for a guy who chirps you for your own screen-time, and who has enforced the house rule of no phones outside your room like a prison guard yells out no touching at visitation. So it sort of checks out. You’ve tried to sneak a peak, but he’s protective of his stuff like a yappy little dog with attachment issues at the best of times, so you haven’t really put too much effort into it.

“There were a few people talking about it in the lounge at work the other day,” you shrug, “One of the girls talking about it is Jess’ best friend, so not exactly from the horse’s mouth, but I don’t think she’d be spreading lies about her friend around like that.”

“Can you find out?”

“You ask that like I haven’t been trying.” That gets a full smile, a small chuckle that lifts his shoulder, even, “I was gonna grill Caufield about it but he’s gone. But I know you guys have plans when he gets back tomorrow, so if you want to take Cole I’ll hack away at the grape vine at the club?”

“Does this mean we’re teammates?”

“No. It absolutely does not.”

Hacking away at the grapevine is really a lot more like plucking absentmindedly at an overgrown patch of grass when it comes to workplace gossip.

By the end of your shift, you’re leaving the club with a fist clutched full of loose blades, fingers stained green from the amount of information people were willing to ‘fess up.

Liam who works behind the bar had overheard a conversation where Jack had mentioned Jessica, but could only give you useless tidbits, like how he had to stop by the shop for a new putter, and Jess had been the one to ring him up.

Hardly incriminating, but you had a feeling it would be a small piece of a way larger puzzle. That, and guys are notoriously useless at gossiping, there’s definitely more to that story than Liam could even comprehend in his tiny man brain.

Cassidy who works at the front desk had seen Jack and Jess talking in the main lobby last week, definitely flirting, she had said - with hair flips and giggles galore - and way too familiar to be new.

Much better.

Paola who has the alternative shifts in the pro shop was more than willing to take up ten minutes of your time ranting how Jess’ work is never fully done when it comes to a handover, and she spends half her time on her phone. Kiran, who works the bev cart every Monday, said Jack is always one of the most charming in their golfing group, so it’s no surprise if he is exchanging texts with girls from the club.

You get dirt from most corners of the place, and it leads you all the way back to your station, to reservations set for the restaurant, where tonight’s list - unfortunately a shift you’re not set to work, although you very much question the serendipity of that - has Jack’s name down at 7pm. A table for 2 in the back corner, shielded from prying eyes and intimate.

And if it weren’t for the fact you’ve already worked a full shift, you would consider staying just to get the full scoop.

You know Ellie isn’t going to be the one sat across from him, she’s been sending you pictures all day of her various hauls for her quiet night in. New paints and pencils, a sketchpad, some candles - she has all intentions of working on her watercolour technique.

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

Imagine his face, you think, picturing wide, panicked eyes as you roam up to his table to take his order. He’d actually crap his pants.

But, it’s another set of eyes that you picture when you start to enjoy the scheming a little too much. The sad, teary eyes of your best friend, when she finds out the guy she’s been hung up on for half her life, who she has all but convinced herself isn’t interested, and is - absurdly - ‘far too good’ for her - yeah, right - is dating other girls while taking her out on not-so-platonic boat dates only the day before. A boat date that she had come back to your room, flung herself onto her belly on the bed, and kicked her feet as she gushed all about it.

So you make your way back to the house after a long day, and resign yourself to the fact that you’re going to have to, yet again, get all your information on Jack’s date second hand.

You primed Cara, your colleague in the restaurant, to keep an eye out, and she promised to send updates on her breaks, and you have been holed up in yours and Ellie’s shared bedroom trying to keep her busy when there is a persistent knock at the door, and a mop of soft, curly brown hair pokes in before his eyes meet yours.

“Hey, Luke!” Ellie chimes, cheery and all too blissfully unaware of the potentially horrific circumstances you’ve stumbled upon. “You need to borrow my conditioner again?”

You scoff from your position on the bed, watching a slight pink hue flush up Luke’s neck.

“What? No,” he denies, running a hand through his hair and seemingly frowning a little at the way it feels. “I’m going to the store, wondered if either of you needed anything?”

“Nah, thanks, we’re good,” Ellie smiles, attention diverting straight back to where she’s drawing in her sketchbook, missing the way Luke widens his eyes and tilts his head as if to encourage you to take him up on his offer.

“Can I come with?” You shuffle from your position on the bed, swinging your legs out from beneath you and over the side as Ellie looks back at you.

“Sorry, I didn’t realise you wanted something.”

“Someone’s got to show the poor guy what’s what on the haircare aisle, El.”

And you’re thankful that Ellie has settled herself in for the evening already by 6:45, showered, pyjamas on, otherwise she might have tried to tag along, too, just for something to do.

You swipe her phone before she can notice and hide it under your pillow before you leave, thinking it might reduce the risk of her getting bored and texting Jack, or, worse, checking his location.

A trip out gives you the chance for you and Luke to debrief each other on your findings of the day - or, as it turns out, just you, because Luke Hughes might be the worst information-gatherer on planet Earth.

Finding his life’s niche in hockey is fortunate, because he definitely wouldn’t cut it as an investigator.

“He just said he didn’t know anything,” Luke shrugs of his earlier encounter with Cole, and you try not to gape at him in disbelief as he fiddles with the screen in his BMW, scrolling through the interface in search of the nearest store.

You swat his hand away with a scoff, typing in a destination, “And you believed him?”

“Was I not supposed to?”

“You’re about as useless as a chocolate teapot, Hughes. What is it with guys and gossip, are you all really that dumb?”

“That’s the address for the club,” he points out, ignoring your jibe as he starts driving.

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

“Because, thankfully, one of us is a good detective.” You snark, “Jack’s there.”

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

“No he isn’t,” Luke frowns, attention momentarily taken from the road as he looks over at you. “I’ve been with him all afternoon, he would have told me if he had a date, tonight.”

“Oh yeah? Where’d he say he was going when he left, earlier?”

He hadn’t been home when you got back from work, but that had been around an hour ago. You figured if he was sneaky enough to book into the restaurant when you’re not working, he’d have his wits about him to avoid you, entirely. Whenever the two of you cross paths, you can’t help but try get on his last nerve, and he’s hardly going to want to start his evening in a foul mood.

“To get his hair cut.”

Jesus Christ, you think, he’s so lucky he’s cute.

“You’re so clueless. He’s at the lounge with Jessica, the girl I told you about yesterday.”

“And what are we supposed to do about that?”

“We’re gonna supervise. And maybe interfere, if necessary.”

You don’t really have a plan, but it seems like the right thing to at least get a look in as to what the hell Jack thinks he’s doing, especially if you’re going to carry on with this whole plan of getting him and Ellie together. If he’s seriously entertaining other girls while making out to Luke that he only has eyes for Ellie, your plans might have to change. You’re not sure if Luke will be on board with the new path you’re willing to take, but you’ll be happy to kill his brother on your own.

“Interfere?” Luke’s eyes are wide, but he keeps them on the road, fingers flexing against the wheel. “I just came out for chips to make nachos, not play spies!”

“Cara’s working tonight, she said she’d keep an eye on them for me. I bet if I cover her hosting shift on Friday she’d sabotage their date. We’d just have to sit back and watch.”

“Oh,” Luke’s brows furrow, as if it’s taking any consideration at all to mess with his brother. “You really are an evil genius.”

You try not to think too hard about who’s been spewing that rhetoric already in his ear, and instead you smile when he casts his eyes your way, proud and pleased.

“Thank you.”

It takes another 15 minutes to get to the club, considering Luke’s best Driving Miss Daisy impression, so their date is already underway by the time Cara is ushering you to a booth in the far corner, where you can see Jack’s table, but he shouldn’t be able to see yours, and agreeing to play along.

“Can I get you guys any drinks?” She asks as she hands over two menus, and you’re too interested in trying to gauge the vibe at the other table while Luke looks over his.

“Two diet cokes, shaved ice, no lemon,” he says, and you can’t help but frown at the way the specificity of that order rolls so easily off his tongue. That’s your order.

“Any food?”

“Could we just get some nachos, please?” You ask, sliding your menu across the table without even looking, not wanting to give Luke too much of a chance to peruse his own out of fear you’ll be here all night. “And extra picante on the side.”

“Extra guac, too,” Luke adds as Cara scribbles the instructions on her notepad, “And some of those chicken tenders, and extra ranch. And maybe some fries. Yeah, chilli fries. And breadsticks.”

You level him with a glare, already proven right in your decision not to give him too much time to think about what he wanted. He’ll order every appetiser on the menu, if given half the chance.

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

“Sure thing, should be around fifteen minutes. They only just ordered,” she points her pen back to Jack’s table, where Jess is leaning onto the table and Jack is leaning back in his seat - heavy on the distance but even heavier on the eye contact. That little shit.

“Does he have any allergies?” You lean onto your own table to ask Luke, quirking a brow up when his eyes darken in response, mischief swirling in his emerald irises.

“Absolutely not,” Cara interjects, “I’m doing this so you cover my job, not make me lose it.”

“Let me guess, he ordered the steak, medium-rare?” Luke asks, and she nods, hesitantly. “Char it.”

“Won’t he complain?”

“He’ll just grumble to himself about how tough it is. It’ll put him in a bad mood. That’s what we want, right?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, nodding your head to ease Cara’s worries despite what you really want is for Chef Michael to poison the cut, entirely. If Jack Hughes wants to play with your best friend’s heart, you’ll play with his gut. But you can settle for burnt meat. Luke can work some sort of magic with that, you think, convincing Jack of all people that any first date that resulted in him coming home all sour-puss and sulky should never result in a second. “Bad mood. Bingo.”

“Fine,” Cara grumbles, “But if he even thinks about asking for a manager, you’re covering my next 3 Fridays.”

She storms off to the kitchen, and you and Luke simultaneously sink into your seats, attention immediately diverted back to the table in the opposite corner of the room.

“We should have kept the menus,” Luke mutters from across the booth, “Could have hidden behind them.”

“What are we, children?” You snark, “You can’t think of any more creative ways to stay hidden?”

“I heard PDA makes people pretty uncomfortable,” he leans onto the table, dropping you a wink when you glance over out of the side of your eye, “We should make out to throw everyone off the scent.”

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

The way you can convince people to do your bidding with a mere flutter of your eyelashes or a flash of pearly teeth and a glimmer in your irises.

He has trouble, sometimes, skirting around his honesty or hiding his intentions - and he knows that’s not a bad thing, knows that being clear and truthful is an admirable trait, if anything - but the way you persuade others to bend to your whim with intricate white lies based on observations you’ve made or intel you’ve gathered is a praiseworthy level of genius.

It had taken such minimal effort for you to get Cara on side, to convince her that being a little clumsy is hardly grounds for her termination, and spilling a little of Jack’s drink close to the edge of the table - close enough that it drips onto his pants and Luke can see the steams of frustration exuding from his brother’s skin from all the way on the other side of the restaurant - or bumping her hip on the edge of their table every time she passes are really just harmless irritations, not likely to cause actual complaint.

You had used the mere tone of your voice to convince Liam from behind the bar to squeeze a little lime in Jack’s water, knowing just from observing him back at the house that he hates the taste, face curling in disgust at even the slightest hint of it, and Luke had watched your eyes gleam in delight every time Jack took a sip of his drink and tried not to spit it back out, seeking much needed reprieve to swallow down the world’s toughest steak cut.

You’d even worked your magic on him, pouting your lips when the food had arrived at the table, and he had initially declined to share his chicken tenders with you - your grumblings at him ordering enough to feed the five thousand fresh in his memory, but so easily wiped away by the soft, sad look in your eyes, and your whining of, “But I didn’t realise how hungry I’d get. Plotting and scheming is hard work, Luke.”

You ended up eating half, but he could hardly complain - you were doing the heavy lifting out of the two of you.

He was sitting back and enjoying the show - enjoying your company, if he’s honest. Enjoying the way his gangly limbs would sometimes knock into yours under the table, enjoying the way he kept getting little nuggets of information out of you while you were distracted, sipping at your coke and making little comments about yourself, about your life, without even realising you’re doing it.

And an unplanned, pseudo date ends up being the first time he thinks he’s had a glimpse at the real you.

The you who knows more about hockey than you’ve ever let on before, who comes back to his stories with contextual questions about the game, even has references to a few games of his back at Michigan, and keeps the conversation flowing despite your feigned disinterest, and a constant gaze cast his brother’s way.

That would usually drive him crazy.

He’s experienced it so often that he has come to expect it, people only entertaining his company to acquire the attention of his brothers, but that’s not what you’re doing. Not really.

You pay more attention to Luke than you’d ever let on.

You ask him about his time in Ostrava at the beginning of summer, even though he’s only mentioned being overseas once while you’ve been staying with him - an offhanded comment from Quinn at breakfast that you must have taken on. Ask him about all the food he tried while out there, when he mentions he doesn’t like picante, and you use it as a springboard to talk about what sort of spices he does like, or if he’s the type to try things or stick to what he knows.

You ask him about being the youngest sibling, and it stems from an offhanded comment Luke had grumbled about always being the last to be clued in on stuff, about how Jack had probably confided in Quinn about his extracurricular activities at the club, and didn’t trust him enough to let him in on the fact he’s going out on dates. You ask if he usually figures things out himself before he’s told them, if that’s what makes him so good at observing and analysing stuff, and he hadn’t ever realised he was particularly good at those things before you brought it up. But then you reference a day in class one time, where he had picked up on something in a textbook that you never would have figured out in a million years, and his heart leaps at the praise you don’t even realise you’re giving him.

You sandwich your perceptions in your usual snark, but he doesn’t miss the slight curve of your lips anymore when he bites straight back, knowing now that there is some part of you that feels the nip of his teeth, that acknowledges his existence beyond him being a speck of inconvenience in your peripheral.

And he gets a little carried away in that acknowledgement - stops paying attention himself to what is happening on the other side of the room and tries to focus on what’s in front of him; the girl he pined after his entire college career, sat sharing nachos and pretending not to know him at a level you so clearly do.

You must get carried away, too, because neither of you notice Jack’s date wrapping up until Luke catches him hand his card over to Cara.

He’s lost count of how long the two of you have been at the club, now - way longer than it takes to get chips from the store, that’s for sure - and all he does know is that if Jack catches either of you two here, after a night of mishaps, bad food, spilled drinks and Cara’s incessant clumsiness, he’ll know who’s to blame.

“We better get out of here before he sees us,” Luke sighs, not entirely wanting to wrap up his time with you but knowing he doesn’t really have a choice.

“I’ve just got to pick something up before we head back,” you reply, edging out of the booth at the same time Luke does, “I’ll meet you out front just give me two minutes?”

“Be quick,” he tells you before you scurry off, and he flags down Cara, who tells him you already put your bill on your worker tab. He tells her to switch it to his, and that he’ll drop by tomorrow to pay it off, promising to leave her a good tip for her stellar services for the evening.

He waits where you asked him to, making sure to stick to the side of the entryway where he can duck for cover if his brother makes an appearance - but you show up first, skipping out from the staff lounge with a bag of tortilla chips in hand.

“Let’s go, Lukey boy!” He follows you out like a puppy on a leash, all the way to where his car is parked, almost bumping into you when you stop and turn without warning, stretching your hand out to him. “Give me your keys.”

“Are you crazy?” He snorts, “You’re not driving my car!”

“I know a shortcut!” You reason, stepping forward and making a grabby motion with your fingers, “We gotta beat Jack home, I just paid another server $20 to spill a whole drink on him before he leaves and he’s gonna be pissed. I want to see the meltdown back at the house and you drive like a nun!”

Luke doesn’t know why he gives in so easy - it could be the proximity, the way you’re so close you have to look up at him, eyes twinkling softly under the moonlight, voice carrying over to him like a siren song, or it could just be because he’s weak - but he hands his keys over with a roll of his eyes and climbs into the passenger side, sliding the seat back with a huff to accommodate his long legs and watching as you adjust the driver’s side, cringing at the way he’s gonna have to figure out exactly how he had it before.

You drive like a maniac, to the point where Luke has to screw his eyes shut as you use some back road, can hear the squelch of mud beneath his tires and squirms at the thought of having to take it to the car wash, tomorrow.

But you make it back to the lake house much quicker than if he were driving, he’ll give you that. So quick that you feel comfortable enough to turn to him once you’ve pulled up, in no rush to unbuckle and get out to get inside before Jack gets home.

“Just so we’re clear, this is a point under my name. You’re not claiming tonight as a win.”

Luke chuckles, turning in his seat to face you, features illuminated by the dim overhead light that turns on when the engine switches off and a slight flush of exhilaration to your cheeks. There’s no pretending you haven’t enjoyed yourself, not tonight. “But the steak thing was my idea?”

“If it weren’t for me, you’d be sat watching baseball and thinking he was getting a 3 hour haircut, you can’t seriously be trying to steal this from me, I thought you athletes had integrity!”

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

If Luke’s honest, he hasn’t really thought about your whole wager all night. He’s been too wrapped up in the idea that his brother had lied to him. Twice. And now his whole plan for the two of you all summer has potentially been messed up. But hearing you mention it, hearing you talk about it like it hasn’t been flushed down the toilet by his brother’s idiocy sparks something in him - excitement, anticipation. He doesn’t want to let this go.

“I actually think we made a good team back there,” he shrugs, eyes meeting yours to gauge your reaction to the thought of doing this together.

“You’re only saying that ‘cause you’re gonna lose,” you retort, eyes sparkling with those same sentiments he had just felt.

“Probably,” he acquiesces, “Also ‘cause you kind of scare me a little after tonight, last thing I wanna do is go up against you when you have the power to turn half the country club against me.”

You smirk, and his eyes are drawn to the plush curve of your lips, watching them as they form around the softly spoken words, “God forbid you can’t go a round of golf without your caddy breaking down.”

“Exactly.” He mutters back, glad to see your gaze is still zeroed in on him when he meets it again. He can feel the thump thump thump of his pulse in his ears, and takes a deep breath before proposing, “Partners?”

He cocks a brow and holds his pinky out over the centre console, and you eye the digit, sceptically, narrowing your eyes into a glare before raising them to meet his. “Fine,” you grumble, then hook your little finger through his and tighten it to shake, a slight yelp of surprise filling the car when he tugs, your lax arm giving way until your knuckle touches his lips and he kisses it.

“Ew,” you whine, snatching your finger back as he fills the space himself with a hearty chuckle, wiping it on his hoody in disgust. “That’s gross!”

“No take backs,” he smiles, victorious, with his chest puffed out, primed for you to swat at with the flex of your hand, and the two of you are only pulled out of the moment by the sound of tyres pulling up on the gravel behind you, both of you stumbling to unbuckle yourselves and climb out of the car.

Jack is exiting his own vehicle behind, and stomps down the driveway, shouldering past you until he realises who he has passed, turning back and looking at you with suspicion cast across his features.

“Where have you twobeen?” Jack asks, glancing a curious eye between the two of you before meeting Luke’s gaze, levelling him with an inquisitive glare.

“We went to the store for chips,” Luke holds the bag up, the crinkle loud enough for Jack to hear, and he feels an insurgence rising within him, spurred on by the way his brother is looking at him like he’s the one who should be ashamed of his actions. “Nice haircut.”

Jack runs a hand through his hair, surprise crossing his features in a brief flash at the call out, like he had never even expected Luke to notice his hair looks no different to the last time he saw him mere hours ago, like he would never even need to question his alibi.

“Oh, yeah, I got the day wrong. Went out for dinner instead.”

“On your own?” You ask from beside him, your presence giving Luke the kind of back up he very much needs right now, a new target for Jack’s narrowed eyes that takes the heat off of him a little, lessens the burden of lying to his brother - despite Jack being the one who started it, it doesn’t make Luke feel any less bad, doesn’t quell the need to word vomit and admit to all the ludicrous things he had done to ruin Jack’s night. “You end up having a little accident there, bud?”

Luke tries not to outwardly laugh as his attention is diverted to the wet patch that still soaks up the front of Jack’s pants, lips quivering as he presses them together, oblivious to the steam pouring out of his brother’s ears as he immediately gets riled up.

“One of your esteemed colleagues at the club apparently lacks hand eye co-ordination. Plus, some of us like our own company,” Jack scoffs, “Some of us can go an evening without the need to annoy anybody else.”

“It’s not news to me that you’re in love with yourself, dude,” you retort back, entirely unbothered by his jibes. “Bet you’ve got all sorts of riveting thoughts swirling around that ginormous head of yours, must keep you busy for hours on end.”

“At least I have thoughts, at least I’m not some airheaded-,”

“Hey,” Luke’s tone is authoritative when he calls out, stern and demanding, “Cut it out, Jack.”

“She started it!”

“She asked you a question,” Luke frowns, disappointed with how quick his brother had taken to escalating the situation, all in an attempt to deflect the attention from his own deception. He knows you don’t need him to protect you from Jack’s sharp tongue, knows you can very much defend yourself, but he needs to vent his frustrations, somehow, without causing a bust up on the driveway. “You could have just give her a straight answer without biting her head off.”

He feels like you’re a little closer, all of a sudden, and he doesn’t know it’s the slight brush of your arm against his or if it’s something else, something less tangible - but it warms him, all the same. Steadies the static thump of his heart in his chest at the thought of starting an argument with his brother out of nowhere.

“Whatever,” Jack rolls his eyes, “I’m going to bed.”

And as Jack turns, Luke sees your lips part, ready to send him off with the last word until a large hand clamps itself over your mouth, and your wide eyes meet his over the sides of his fingers.

He’s not sure why he did it, why he all of a sudden feels comfortable enough to cross the boundaries of purposeful touch, but he doesn’t entirely regret it.

Plush lips press mid-word against his palm, and your skin is soft, cheeks warming ever so slightly beneath his hand.

“You gotta let him go, there’s no use fighting with him tonight, it’s better to drag it out. Didn’t think I’d have to teach you about the beauty of the long game,” he says, voice low as he watches his brother retreat to the house, waiting until he’s safe inside to retract his hand. “Not like this, anyway.”

“Your brother’s an asshole,” you grumble, “Full offence.”

“No arguments from me,” Luke concedes, holding his hands as if surrendering to the fact, himself. “What are you gonna tell Ellie?”

“Nothing.” You sigh, stepping a little down the drive and toward the house before turning back to him. “We’ve got a lot of work to do, partner.”

There have only been a handful of times in your life you’ve ever been thankful for work coinciding with huge plans, but when the group had decided that they wanted to go see Zach Bryan play Ford Field, you had thanked your lucky stars you had been put down to work a full shift at the restaurant and wouldn’t be able to go.

Not only for the fact that he isn’t really your thing, but for the fact that you’re finally getting a full evening to yourself.

So far, in your time at the house, most evenings have been spent with everyone else - group dinners, game nights, movie nights, even a couple of girls nights with just you and Ellie scattered in there, but nothing on your own, yet.

You can’t wait. And with an empty house, you have a full pamper night planned. You’ve been stocking up odd bits on your trips to the store over the past couple of weeks - sheet masks, aromatherapy candles, you’ve even picked up some flower petals from the spa at the club, in the hopes that you might even treat yourself to a relaxing soak in the bathtub. You can play whatever music you want, make whatever food you want, sit wherever you want in the house, out on the deck, overlooking the lake with a book in hand and no chirpy voices in your ear all night.

You can’t wait.

The only downside is not having a ride home, but you haven’t finished too late. The sun will still be up for a couple of hours, and a walk in the simmering heat back to the house doesn’t sound like the worst thing in the world.

Your feet carry you with ease down the back roads, and you even make the journey without your headphones on, taking in the scenery, the blissful peace of your surroundings, so lost in the tranquility of it all that the sight of Luke washing his car on the drive when you get home dampens your mood as quick as a torrential downpour of rain, flash floods coursing through your evening and wrecking your plans entirely.

“What the hell are you doing?” You can’t help the bite in your tone as you approach, sneakers crunching against the gravel as Luke pauses the hose, looks over at you with the sun in his eyes, and you have to remind yourself he’s just ruined the one night you have for yourself before you get distracted by the fact that he’s shirtless.

“Washing my car?” he calls back, like it’s the most obvious thing in the world.

“Aren’t you supposed to be in Detroit right now?”

Luke shrugs, and you have to will your eyeballs not to move any lower than his neck to watch his shoulders lift and drop, lest you get too caught up in the broad expanse of his chest and do something ridiculous like drool.

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

“You weren’t feeling a concert you guys haven’t shut up about for weeks, but you were feeling washing your car?”

He’s dead. When he’s finished with his car and he retreats to his room, you’re gonna smother him with a pillow and discard of his body in the lake. You’re not even gonna let him shower, first. That’s what the lake’s for.

He’s crapping all over your plans because he wasn’t feeling it?

“It needs cleaning,” he shrugs again, and you swear you’re gonna jump in and run him over with the damn thing, “In fact, you really should be helping me.”

There’s a small part of you that feels like the thoughts of violence are worryingly aggressive, but then a larger part of you realises he must have a death wish.

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

“You’re the one who drove us through a swamp,” he scoffs, a pointed hand flung toward the body of his car, where the sides are lined with a thick layer of dried dirt from the other night, “You get it dirty, you clean it up.”

“As much as I would absolutely love to fulfil your pervy car wash fantasy, I have much better things I could be doing with my time.”

Or you did, until Luke rained all over your parade of solitude.

“Like what?”

“Literally anything but this.” You gesture at the show he’s putting on. The suds dripping from the roof of the car, the hose in his hand, the buckets scattered around the perimeter. “I need to shower, I just walked from the club and I-,”

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

Luke wants you to murder him in the most gruesome, horrific way you could possibly muster - he has to, because there’s no other explanation for why he’d turn the hose on, point it straight at you, and drench the front of you, entirely.

You can feel the fabric of your t-shirt dampening and sticking to your chest, and you scrunch your eyes shut to stop droplets of water slipping into them, thankful that when they open again, his own are looking back at you, and not any lower.

You’d really have a reason to kill him, then.

“You did not just do that.” You growl, glaring back at him with a clenched jaw as the fucker beams back at you, pressing the trigger once more in a short burst that fires straight at your chest, again.

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

You drop your bag and launch for him, aiming to take the hose from his grip, but he fires it again out of sheer panic, the water spouting out from between your splayed fingers, cold and pressured, and it soaks the both of you, raining down as you grapple for the head and Luke remains unrelenting.

There are squeals and yelps called out into the misty air between the two of you, and you get to a point you can’t tell what sounds are coming from who, but you manage to wrestle the hose from his grip and point it straight at him as he jets away with a laugh that rumbles straight from his belly.

It’s the kind of laugh that elicits another, and you don’t realise until he’s circling back to you that the laughter is coming from you - giggling, even, as the two of you engage in a water fight like misbehaving children - and it isn’t long until all aggressive thoughts wash away with the suds that slip to the gravel, forgetting why you were even annoyed in the first place.

It shouldn’t be as fun as it is, but after the long day at work, and the tiring walk back, letting your guard down and engaging it a little mindless chaos seems to wake you up a little.

Your childish game gets Luke what he wanted, anyway, the two of you working together to clean his car when you realise he’s only running in front of all the parts that actually need hosing off and relying on you having bad aim to get the job done, and you figure getting your hands a little dirty is harmless when you’re already soaked through and in dire need of a shower.

And your pamper-plans of a bubble bath and self-care don’t entirely come to fruition, but Luke promises to make up for his petulance by ordering pizza and sticking a movie on, so you bite your tongue to refrain from voicing your initial complaints, and decide to just go with the flow, for once - he hasn’t exactly led you astray, yet.

You take a little longer in the shower than normal, with no one around to complain about hogging the bathroom or worry about them barging in unannounced, and you suppose that’s a small victory - one little luxury you get to cling to as you bask in the steam, letting all the tension slip from your aching muscles after being on your feet all day.

And once you’re out, hair dried just enough with a towel that it isn’t going to drip or soak your t-shirt, and you’re dressed in your pyjamas, you make your way downstairs, where Luke has already set up a plethora of snacks in the living room.

Nachos, popcorn, candy and drinks scattered across the coffee table as he relaxes on the couch, hair extra curly after his shower and an old Michigan t-shirt stretched tight across his now much-broader chest.

“Thought I’d wait for you to pick a movie,” he chimes up from where he’s sat, gesturing with a lazy point to the wall of blu-rays beside the TV.

“Did Netflix never make it to the Hughes household?” You scoff in disbelief as you take them all in properly for the first time. You’d seen them in your peripheral when you’d been hanging out down here, before, but actually looking at them up close, reading all the titles, seeing the sheer volume of how many there are, it kind of surprises you.

“We can look on Netflix if you want. They always take stuff off, though.”

You know. All your favourite movies get taken off of streaming, and you only ever find out about it when you’re really in the mood to watch them. As soon as you realise the wall is alphabetised, you know exactly where to look.

“That’s alright,” you shrug, stepping to the side as you track backwards, through M, L, K and J. “You guys are pretty analogue, I’ve noticed.”

“What do you mean?”

“The board games, the DVDs, the whole no phones around the house thing.”

“No phones around the house is common courtesy,” he chuckles, “But I guess we’re a little weird about the other stuff.”

“It’s pretty cool,” you shrug, spotting the DVD you want and sliding it out to assess the case. “It’s old school. Probably better for the brain. My little brothers can’t really function without an iPad and they’re 5, it’s freaky, like they’re haunted by the capitalist ghost of Steve Jobs or something.”

“I didn’t know you had brothers,” Luke frowns where you almost expect him to laugh, and you spin on your heel to face him. He has this look about him like he should have known that - like the two of you have ever conversed in anything other than sarcastic quips and scrunched up faces, or whatever attempts at flirting have been on his part.

“Technically they’re half brothers,” you shrug, “They live out in Philly with my dad and step mom, I don’t really get to see them much.”

“Didn’t know you were from Philly, either.”

“I’m not, my dad moved out there when him and my mom got divorced.”

It’s not something you really love talking about.

The few times you’ve tried, you’ve been shot down, patronising tones scoffing at how your biggest trauma is the separation of your parents, as if your whole world didn’t crumble down with the demise of their relationship, the demise of life as you knew and very dearly loved it.

“You don’t see him even in the summer?”

“Him and his family are on vacation in Europe for 6 weeks. England, France, Spain, Germany, the boys are into soccer so they’ll be out there until the Euros.”

You don’t miss the way Luke’s face scrunches at how you call them his family, and you’re not sure you’re ready for him to start pitying you, so you throw the DVD case toward him before you can second guess your choice.

Interstellar.

You hope he doesn’t pick up on why it might be one of your favourites. Especially not considering the topic of the conversation at hand. Something about the crippling regret Cooper has for leaving Murph behind plucks harmoniously at some unidentifiable strings deep within you, but you’re hardly about to admit that to Luke, of all people.

“I love this movie,” he smiles, almost surprised, as if he expected you to throw The Notebook his way. Maybe next time - he’d probably love that movie, too, if he gave it a chance.

“Me too. I love space movies.”

“Like Space Jam?” He asks as he pushes himself up, going toward the TV to set up the movie with the DVD in one hand and the remote control in the other.

“No, like movies about Space,” you say, throwing yourself down onto the same couch he just vacated and tucking your feet beneath you to get comfortable. “Although I guess Space Jam would technically fit into that bracket.”

“I didn’t realise that was a genre,” he chuckles.

“Not the scary ones, though, I don’t wanna be freaked out by space.”

“Is that like a thing? You just like any movie set in space?”

“I like anything about space, period. Movies, documentaries, books. Thinking about it makes me feel really insignificant.”

“Insignificant? Is that not a bad thing?” He asks as he makes his way back, settling into his side and angling his body toward yours.

“Do you ever think about how big the universe is, Hughes? It’s humongous! If I ever feel anxious or panicky I think about just how big it is and how I’m not even a speck of dust in the grand scheme of things. If I’m so tiny, how big can my problems actually be?”

“I guess that makes sense,” he seems to mull it over in his head, the thought of him even considering it and not making you feel stupid warms your chest - makes you forget just how much of yourself you’ve shared with him in the last couple of minutes alone, makes you worry less that you’re sharing too much. “I think I might be the opposite, though. Probably the youngest brother in me, I only feel better if I feel bigger.”

You think that might be why he’s always trying to one up you - sassy comments and inappropriate jokes galore. Not that you mind any of it, not really.

“What about you? What movies do you like?”

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

“Look at you, knowing me like the back of your hand.” He coos, nudging at your knee with his hand. “I’ll watch anything, though. We should take it in turns, whenever it’s just us,” he says like the thought of spending time alone with you has only just crossed his mind. “Picking a movie to show each other.”

You think there’s a lot of yourself in the media you consume. The movies you watch, the music you listen to, and sharing those things with Luke feels like giving him the only other key to a high security vault. It’s something you’ve avoided so far - letting him play his songs in the car, avoiding making any sort of pick in the group movie nights. It’s daunting, and it’s a lot of pressure, and so you don’t know why you agree with so much ease - a shrug, and a casual muttering of, “Sure, why not?”

The pieces of your dynamic slowly start to slot together, and you start to realise why you’ve been entertaining his company so often, lately. Why your mood so quickly de-escalated itself, earlier. Why you’ve found yourself curled up on the same couch as him, instead of literally anywhere else in the house, doing anything other than this. Why you’re so quick to agree to letting him access all these unseen parts of you.

And why you think he might be able to read your mind, after he asks, “Can I ask you a question?”

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

“What were you gonna do tonight, if you were on your own?”

Thank God, you think, your heart jumping at the thought of anything else he could have asked.

“I was gonna do a sheet mask and steal the bottle of wine Quinn stashed behind the laundry detergent.” You admit with a nonchalant shrug, the plans you had been looking forward to all day seeming mundane in comparison to this. “Why’d you stay behind? You love Zach Bryan.”

“I love sheet masks and stolen wine, too.”

Your lips curve up before you get the chance to huff at his non-answer, and you feel your throat go a little dry at the way his curve, too - the way his green eyes darken when they meet yours, and you feel like he’s looking straight through you.

It’s around half way through the movie that you realise how much you’re enjoying yourself - when you look over at Luke, and the light from the screen is still bouncing off the sticky white sheet plastered to his face, only just able to make out his round eyes through the little slit in the fabric.

You sip at your wine to hide your smile, and turn your attention back to the TV until Luke nudges at your feet with his, and your eyes meet over the tops of your bent knees.

“You tell anyone I did this, I’ll never speak to you again.”

Your laugh ripples through every inch of your upper body, rumbling up from your belly and manifesting itself in shaking shoulders, your smile wide and your sheet mask slipping out of place. “You can’t threaten me with a good time, Hughes.”

You spend the rest of the night trying not to think about how there might just be a tiny door in your heart, eking it’s way open for him to squeeze his gangly limbs into.

>PART TWO<

another a/n: I don't want to put a timeframe on when the next part will be posted bc as soon as I do that, my brain will revolt and it won't happen, but I'd love to know your thoughts in the meantime!!! I have a lot of the rest actually written, and what I don't have written, I have drafted, so it shouldn't be too long but!!! like I said no timeframe!! I've had a lot of fun with this dynamic, and hearing any opinions would mean a lot to me!!

this was my first time writing reader insert if you saw any instances of she/her where they shouldn't be, no you didn’t. I tried as best as I could to avoid using Y/N because it takes me out of it I don’t even remember if I put it anywhere but sometimes it's hard to get around I did my best ok!!!

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

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carolperkinsexgirlfriend · 3 months ago

Text

can you see the stars in your dreams (and do they have a lot to say about me) - Part 19

Or: a secret Admirer AU

PART 1 || PART 2 || PART 3 || PART 4 || PART 5 || PART 6 || PART 7 || PART 8 || PART 9 || PART 10 || PART 11 || PART 1 || PART 13 || PART 14 || PART 15 || PART 16 || PART 17 || PART 18

Steve makes a noise of pain, and Eddie pulls back like he’d been burned. With how hot his face feels, he might have been. Eddie holds his fingers up to his own mouth. His lips hurt enough when he touches them that Eddie’s sure it’ll go down in history as the worst kiss in Steve Harrington’s life.

“Um,” Steve says, voice high and wobbly like he’s going to cry.

Eddie’d almost rather die than have Steve see him right now, but he needs to see the look on Steve’s face to ascertain how the hell he can fix this. So, he reaches up, fumbling blindly until the van’s interior light clicks on.

He blinks, momentarily blinded by the spots sparking in his eyes with the sudden light. When he finally blinks them away and catches sight of Steve, his breath catches.

Steve’s pressed hard enough into the van’s door that it looks like he’s trying to become one with it, and his eyes are wide and panicked, fingers clenching the fabric of his jeans over his raised knees. There’s a speck of blood on his mouth and all Eddie can do is hope that it’s his own.

“I am so sorry,” Eddie rushes out, shuffling forward in his seat, hand outstretched to wipe off the blood, but when Steve flinches away, smacking his head against the window, Eddie flings himself back, palms raised in supplication. “I shouldn’t have done that!”

It’s only as something shutters beneath Steve’s wide eyes that Eddie realizes how many wrong ways Steve could be taking what he’s saying. “Not like that!” Eddie continues, words tumbling over each other in his rush to get them out. “It’s just you were saying all that shit like I don’t want to be here? And I panicked, and just sort of…did that?”

Steve doesn’t say anything in response. He just sits, frozen, eyes unfocused. Eddie really wishes he’d say something, if only so Eddie can stem the stream of bullshit flowing from his mouth.

“Only, I’ve never kissed anyone before, and you’re supposed to ask first, right?” he rambles, still panicking. “Oh my god, I just like, attacked you? I’ll take you home if you want, oh my god, why did I—”

“You want to be here?” Steve blessedly interrupts. Eddie takes gasping breaths, eyes laser focused on the little furrow between Steve’s brows. “Wait, that was your first kiss?”

Eddie feels whatever blood had drained from his face rush back as Steve squints across at him. He’s not crowded into the door, but Eddie’s not sure the way he’s leaning toward Eddie with disarming focus is actually much better.

“I mean—well, you see—I’ve just never—” Steve’s still staring at him unerringly so Eddie takes a shuddering breath and finally spits it out. “I’ve never been on a date, kissed anyone, any of that stuff.”

“Oh,” Steve whispers, a look Eddie can’t read dawning across his face.

“Yeah, oh,” Eddie replies, chuckling weakly when Steve just keeps staring. Eddie looks away, unable to hold the intensity of his gaze. “Sorry I blew it like that. I just sort of panicked, you know?”

“Oh,” Steve says again, a different intonation this time, still just as indecipherable to Eddie.

“Yeah, oh,” he mutters again, picking at a loose thread on his sleeve, unable to look at Steve.

It’s silent again—Eddie wishes it was dark, too. He wants to go home, drag his comforter back into his room and hide beneath it until he forgets any of this ever happened. He might be under there for a long, long time.

But then there’s cool fingers against his chin, and when he jerks his gaze toward him, Steve’s golden brown eyes are very, very close to his own, his lips even closer with the way his breaths are puffing against Eddie’s open mouth.

“Can I?” Steve asks, making it clear what he means as he looks down at Eddie’s lips.

Eddie gasps, body aflame with the power of his blush. “You—you want to?” he stutters out. When Steve nods, still holding Eddie’s chin, he responds, “okay, yeah, yeah, okay—” his affirmations only being cut off by the soft press of Steve’s lips.

It’s soft and dry, pressed chastely against Eddie’s own. Eddie shudders, mimicking the minute movements of Steve’s lips against his own. It’s a revelation to feel Steve’s lips on him, even more so when he feels Steve’s mouth quirk up against his own, like he’s happy to be kissing the bumbling fool Eddie’s become.

Eddie laughs, just a little against Steve’s mouth. It turns into a groan halfway up his throat as Steve threads his fingers through Eddie’s hair, using his grip on the back of his head to pull Eddie closer to himself. As Eddie gasps, Steve brushes his tongue into Eddie’s open mouth, barely delving in before pulling it back and sucking Eddie’s bottom lip.

Steve leaves his lips wet as he pulls back. Eddie tries to chase his mouth, drunk off the feeling of it, but Steve’s fingers fist in the back of his hair, holding him in place. The feeling zings through Eddie from his scalp to his palms, that gentle pull hitting him like electrocution as he gasps back to life.

When he opens his eyes, Steve’s still close, smiling smugly at Eddie. It’s all King Steve without the bite. He wants more, hopes Steve keeps him around long enough that he can see it all.

“You said stargazing?” Steve asks, eyes twinkling brighter than any star in the sky.

Eddie laughs, something bright and bubbling filling his chest as he watches Steve laugh along with him, eyes crinkling almost shut, hand still clutched in Eddie’s hair.

He hopes, ardently, desperately, that a second date is on the table, no matter how disastrously this one has gone because right now, in this moment with Steve’s buoyant laughter echoing in his skull? Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Yeah, big boy, let’s go.”

***

Steve leans against the cold metal of Eddie’s van and watches as Eddie bounces around in the light of the van’s headlights, helplessly endeared as Eddie fusses with the edges of his blanket until it finally lays wrinkle-free in an empty spot in the clearing. He rushes back to the van a few times, holding snacks and drinks behind his back like Steve won’t see them the moment he drops them to one side of the blanket.

He fusses with it all, too, making sure everything’s lined up just so. It’s so unlike Eddie that Steve might think he’s stalling if he wasn’t beaming the entire time. To finish it off, he grabs a smaller folded blanket and lays it perfectly parallel with all the snacks. Only then does he turn back to Steve.

“My lady,” he says, bowing low and gesturing down to the blanket at his feet. “Your chariot awaits.”

Steve laughs and follows his directions to the middle of the blanket, feeling absurdly guilty about his shoes on it. He drops, crossing his legs beneath him. Once he’s rushed over to the van to turn his headlights off, Eddie follows his lead, sitting close enough that their knees just barely overlap.

Steve blinks away the spots in his vision from the change in light before looking up at the sky. It’s bursting with stars, and the moon’s full enough to illuminate their clearing so that Steve can see the shadows of Eddie’s dimples as he smiles at him.

“So, I was thinking we could smoke a little?” Eddie says, pulling a joint out of the pocket of his vest with a raised brow. “But if you don’t want to, we can just relax.”

Steve grabs the joint from Eddie’s hand, letting his fingers brush against Eddie’s before plucking it free and putting it in his own mouth. Eddie stares, mouth parted, hand still held out despite now being empty.

“Well? Got a light?” Steve asks around the blunt, leaning a bit toward Eddie as he comes back to life and fumbles in his vest pocket like he’s on some sort of time crunch.

Eddie flicks his lighter and watches avidly as Steve sucks in until the cherry catches and burns. He inhales, trying for cocksure and suave, but it’s been a long time and instead he coughs a cloud of smoke right in Eddie’s face.

Steve rolls his eyes as Eddie throws his head back and laughs. “Yeah, yeah, yuck it up,” he says around each little, sputtering cough.

“Sorry,” Eddie replies, but he’s still laughing as he plucks the joint from Steve’s fingers and takes a much smoother drag, using his free hand to pat Steve on the back like he’s burping a baby. “Been a while, Stevie?”

Steve’s eyes are streaming, but he feels light enough that he could float away on the smoke as Eddie smiles across at him, joint still in his mouth.

“A bit,” Steve replies, cheeks heating as Eddie’s fingers brush against his lips as he puts the joint back into Steve’s own mouth, tip now wet with Eddie’s spit.

“Nice and easy, now,” Eddie says. Steve follows his instructions, taking a small, shallow breath in, fighting against the spasming of his lungs as he lets the smoke leave his mouth and float up into the night’s sky. He’s rewarded with Eddie’s quiet murmur of, “good boy.”

Then the asshole takes the joint back, raising his eyebrows tauntingly as Steve shudders.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters, no heat behind the words as he flops back on the blanket and looks up at the stars. “Now show me some constellations, Munson.”

Eddie laughs, dropping down so their sides are pressed together, heads close enough that Eddie’s hair tickles Steve’s neck. Eddie takes one more drag before offering it back to Steve. Steve’s enough of a lightweight now, that the few hits he took have him floating a few feet above his body, so he shakes his head. Eddie reaches over to stub it out in the grass without complaint.

“Okay, see those three stars?” Eddie asks, pointing up into the sky. Steve squints, nodding when he finally locates three stars that seem brighter than the ones around them, forming a wonky sort of triangle. “Well, that constellation’s called, How The Fuck Should I Know?”

A barking laugh bursts out of Steve as he turns to stare at Eddie, incredulous. “You planned a stargazing date and don’t know anything about stars?”

“Well, I thought it would be romantic!” Eddie cries, gesturing wildly enough that one of his hands smacks into Steve’s chest lightly.

Steve rolls his eyes. “Doesn’t even know anything about stars,” he repeats teasingly.

“Well!” Eddie sputters, wrapping his arm around Steve’s shoulders and shaking him around on the blanket as he laughs. “Wayne thought it was a good idea.”

Steve stops laughing, unease curdling in his gut as he asks, “you told your uncle about me?”

Eddie sits up, wriggling his arm from beneath Steve suddenly enough that he flops bonelessly onto the blanket as Eddie peers down at him, eyes wide and manic beneath the moonlight. He latches both hands onto Steve’s shoulders like he’s trying to keep Steve stationary.

“I didn’t mean to!” he blurts out before biting his lip. “It’s just, I tell him everything, and he knew I was upset, and asked what was wrong, and it just spilled out!” One of Eddie’s hands lets go of Steve’s shoulder so he can gesture wildly, like they’re playing charades and he’s depicting a clown pulling a ribbon from his sleeve. “And then he told me that he thought I was gay, can you believe that?”

And honestly? Steve can. But Eddie looks riled enough, and Steve just wants to go back to the calm intimacy of minutes before, so he grabs the hand still propping Eddie up with his own shoulder and yanks it out from under him.

Eddie goes sprawling, landing half on Steve’s chest where he wriggles around like a worm until Steve wraps his arms around him and holds Eddie tight to his own chest. Eddie shutters, then slumps, tucking his head beneath Steve’s chin with a groan.

“First Chrissy, then Jeff, and Robin, now your uncle?” Steve mutters, tightening his hold on Eddie when his words start him squirming again. “Who’s next, the pope?”

“Robin knows?” Eddie asks, breaths puffing against Steve’s sensitive neck. “That explains so much.”

“Hey, Rob’s great,” Steve defends, unsure what Eddie’s weird tone means. “I’m going to spend the rest of my life with her.”

Eddie snorts, but burrows his face further into Steve’s neck, planting a little kiss on the skin there. “You’re so weird.”

“Coming from you?”

“Oh, baby, you had me beat like three deranged decisions ago,” Eddie teases, but Steve barely hears him, too busy replaying baby, baby, baby, over and over again in his head like a cheap record.

“Shut up,” Steve mutters.

Eddie fights against Steve’s restricting arms until he’s propped up, smirking down at him, his curly hair curtained around them. “I’m serious! First, you write secret letters? And to me of all people?” Eddie crows. Steve wishes desperately that he could think of a way to shut him up before this gets even more embarrassing. “And the Chrissy of it all, Stevie, what the hell were you—mph!”

Eddie goes blessedly silent as Steve plants one on him, opening his mouth just enough to hear Eddie make that delightful groaning noise again. Steve wraps his arms around Eddie’s waist, pulling Eddie down until his full weight is atop Steve, anchoring his stoned brain back into his body.

Steve bites at Eddie’s lip, once, twice, before soothing it with his tongue and pulling back, high again off the pitiful groan Eddie lets out.

“I finally found a way to shut you up,” he says softly, but he’s smiling and running his hands up and down Eddie’s back as he pants.

Eddie groans, flopping off Steve, body still pressed up against his side. “You’re evil Harrington,” he mutters, reaching out to take Steve’s hand and squeeze.

Steve reaches for Eddie’s chin again, this time pointing it back up to the sky.

“You see those stars there?” he asks, pointing up and to the left of them. “It looks sort of like a weird rectangle with legs and a swirly neck?”

Eddie squints up, gaze unerringly facing the way Steve’s pointing. Steve watches close enough that he sees the moment recognition lights up his eyes. “That’s Leo.”

At that, Eddie whips his head around to stare at Steve suddenly enough that he breaks Steve’s hold on his chin. “Are you kidding?” Eddie demands, but he’s grinning now. “You gave me all that shit, and you ‘know the stars?’” He throws quotations around his words, making it clear that he’s mocking Steve.

For his part, Steve shrugs, still lying down and grinning right back as he replies, “I learned all the star signs to impress girls. And boys, now.”

As Steve reaches out to tuck a dangling lock behind Eddie’s ear, Eddie stares back at him, no longer grinning. “I’m a Leo.”

“I know.”

Eddie whines, “you’re going to kill me,” and drops back to the blanket, curling into Steve’s side.

“Nah,” Steve replies, uprooting Eddie just enough to reach over and grab the folded blanket to drape over the pair of them, cutting the chill in the air by halves. After all, they’ve got a high to wear off before Eddie can drive him home like the gentleman he promised to be. “What fun would that be?”

***

Steve’s asleep—Eddie can tell by the steady rise and fall of his chest beneath Eddie’s head and the way his breath whistles out of his nose. Eddie doesn’t wake him up. This moment feels too precious, this feeling bubbling up in his chest too new to disturb it, especially after the disaster that was the beginning of the night.

It’s just, Eddie’s never been on a date before, and he hadn’t accounted for the way the popcorn would make his hand too slippery with butter to even imagine reaching across the distance between them. And Steve had been very clear: he wanted to hold hands. And it’d all spiraled out of control from there.

He’s never buying popcorn again.

But, now he’s resting against Steve’s side, head propped up on Steve’s chest, hand clutched in his even though it leaves his arm at an awkward angle. And he’s contending with feelings he’s never experienced before.

It’s like there’s moths attacking his heart and lungs before fluttering down into his stomach, tickling his insides, making his whole being damn-near squirm with the foreign feeling.

He feels almost sick with it—is this what everyone means by lovesick? It’s awful, it’s spectacular. He wants to wake Steve up and tell him about the moths and their fluttering, see if he feels it, too.

But, Steve sighs, and even in his sleep, his arms reflexively pull Eddie tighter against himself, and Eddie lets himself bask in the warmth of his embrace until he falls asleep.

He wakes, his entire body cold and shivering convulsively.

It takes another shake to his shoulder to remember where he is and who he’s with. He opens his eyes to Steve’s face hovering over him, his hand shaking Eddie’s shoulder.

“Wha’s it?” Eddie murmurs, reaching up to rub clumsily at his eyes.

“We fell asleep,” Steve replies, voice gravely in a way that hits Eddie right in the gut. “Come on, man. It’s freezing out here.”

Eddie groans, but dutifully drops his hand from his face to grab Steve’s, letting the other boy pull him upright. It takes him a minute to reorient himself with the concept of standing upright.

By the time he’s upright, Steve’s stacked the uneaten snacks back into the bag Eddie’d brought them in, and is halfway through folding up Eddie’s blanket.

“Is it morning?” Eddie asks, squinting up at the sky accusingly as dawn’s light filters through the trees.

Steve laughs. “You’re cute when you first wake up.” Eddie stands there, brain now fully offline, cheeks heating even in the cold. “Now, come on! It’s cold as hell out here.”

The sound of his van’s passenger door slamming as Steve climbs inside sends him running; he climbs into his freezing van and turns the key in the ignition.

“The, uh, heat’s on the fritz,” Eddie mutters, embarrassed, as the van sputters to life. “Sorry.”

“It’s fine,” Steve replies, and when Eddie glances at him, he’s smiling over at Eddie even as he wraps his arms around himself.

It’s a quiet drive, more out of sleepiness this time rather than the awkward journey of the night before. Steve reaches out to play whatever’s in the tape deck—Metallica this time, and he bops his head along to the beat while Eddie taps the steering wheel.

He pulls into the Harrington’s driveway, and puts the van in park and lets the engine idle.

“Well, I had fun,” Steve says, smiling as he unbuckles his seatbelt. “Thanks for the ride.”

Steve’s already out of the car and walking up to his front door by the time Eddie’s tired brain catches up. He’s out of the van in a shot, forcing his cold legs to move fast as he calls, “wait!”

Steve pauses, hand still on the doorknob, halfway through the door. But he turns around, and waits as Eddie rushes up to him, already breathless from his short dash.

“A gentleman always walks his date to the door,” Eddie says quietly, conscious of listening ears, even this early in the morning.

Steve beams, clearly ready to play along as he curtsies like one of the fine ladies in the movies and replies, “well, you’ve done your gentlemanly duty.”

Eddie shuffles his feet, anxious now about all the other things that usually follow the end of a date. “Uhh—well—can I—?”

Steve waits indulgently while Eddie sputters over all the things he wants, all the things he can’t figure out how to say. It’s okay, Eddie planned for this, so he reaches into his vest’s pocket, and pulls out a folded piece of paper, passing it to Steve like they’re in class.

Steve looks down at it, smile growing as he asks, “what’s this?”

“Open it,” Eddie replies, but he already is, smile only growing as he reads what’s on it.

Second Date? Yes ☐ No ☐

First Kiss? Yes ☐ No ☐

“I, uh, didn’t think we’d have already done the whole first kiss thing?” Eddie rambles, the longer Steve spends just staring down at it. “But, it’s customary at the end of a first date, right? I mean not that I have any experience. But, in the movies—”

“I probably have morning breath,” Steve graciously interrupts, holding a hand over his mouth like he’ll be able to contain the stench. But he’s smiling down at the note, Eddie can see the edges of his upturned lips between the gaps in his fingers.

And that’s decidedly not a no, so Eddie crowds Steve until he stumbles through his open front door. Eddie takes a precious moment to close the door to obscure them from view before he cups Steve’s cheeks in the palms of his hands.

“I can’t tell you how much I don’t give a shit about that, Harrington,” Eddie murmurs right before he presses his lips against Steve’s, gently this time because say what you want about Eddie, but he can learn from his mistakes.

It’s slow this time, languid. They’re both tired, and cold, and this date has gone on hours longer than it was ever supposed to. But it’s just as good as their second first kiss. Eddie’s mind goes blank—there’s nothing past the heat of Steve’s lips, and the way those foreign moths squirm within him as arms wrap around his waist.

Eddie pulls away first this time, pecking Steve’s lips once, twice, thrice, when he groans a complaint. “Now, now, I’m trying to be a gentleman,” Eddie replies, hoping Steve doesn’t notice how breathless he sounds.

Steve pouts, but pulls back, Eddie’s note still clutched in his hand. Eddie stares at it, gut churning much more unpleasantly as he asks, “uh, and the other question?”

“Hold that thought,” Steve replies, and then he just—walks away.

Eddie stands at the threshold of the Harrington’s big, empty house as Steve disappears from view. Luckily for the health of Eddie’s heart, he reappears a few moments later, the cap of a pen in his mouth as he scribbles quickly on the page before handing it back to Eddie.

Eddie looks down at it, smile blooming as he sees the little X’s Steve had written in next to the Yes’s of both questions.

“But it’s my turn to plan the next one,” Steve mutters, and when Eddie tears his gaze away from the note, Steve’s cheeks are dusted with a light pink blush that Eddie has to resist the urge to lick.

“I can live with that,” he replies, damn-near buzzing with excitement.

“I’m going to knock your date out of the park, Munson, just you wait.” Steve’s got a cocky eyebrow raised like he’s challenging Eddie to a competition and knows he’s going to win.

He’s such a bitch; Eddie’s obsessed with him.

“Good luck, Harrington. We both know I knocked this one out of the park.” Steve laughs as Eddie mimes hitting a baseball with a bat with the best form he can manage, trying to appeal to Steve’s jock sensibilities.

“You brought it back around,” Steve concedes.

“But, hey,” Eddie starts, finally breaking eye contact with Steve so he can slip the ring off his finger and hold it out to Steve. “It’s no letterman jacket, but something to remind you of me until our next date?”

Steve’s eyes are wide as he looks down at the ring cradled in Eddie’s palm, and his fingers tremble slightly as he scoops it up. Still, he doesn’t hesitate in trying out fingers until he finds one that fits—the blue gem shines brighter affixed to Steve’s thumb than it ever did on Eddie’s hand.

Steve’s cheeks are darker now; Eddie wants to reach out and see if he can feel the heat through his skin.

Steve swallows, Adam’s apple bobbing as he looks down at the ring on his finger with what looks like wonder. “Thank you,” he murmurs quietly before finally looking up and meeting Eddie’s eyes. “Good luck getting my letterman back from Chrissy, though. She’s obsessed with it. I swear I even saw Jeff wearing it the other day.”

“I’ll fight her for it,” Eddie replies, mostly joking as he throws a couple half-hearted punches just to make Steve laugh again.

“You do that,” Steve says, still smiling as he leans forward to peck Eddie’s lips one more time before ushering him out the door. Eddie’s lips tingle the whole drive home.

When he walks through the trailer, Wayne’s on the couch, watching a game of sportsball on the TV, a mug of coffee clutched in his hand. He looks up when Eddie enters, smirking as he catches sight of whatever look is on Eddie’s face.

“Still straight, Ed?” Wayne asks, before taking a sip of his coffee like the meddlesome bastard he is.

“Shut up, old man,” Eddie replies, walking past his laughing uncle to fall into his bed for a few more hours of much-needed sleep.

PART 20

#koko's steddie secret admirer au #steddie #my fic #and the cute to go with all the awkwardness of the part berfore #the stargazing scene here is what helped me settle on the title of the fic <3<3<3

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haetrack · 11 months ago

Note

here bc of ur recent post to request soft dom mark smut!!! maybe like morning sex idk i’m not good at requesting and being super specific😭

req 4: mark lee x f!reader

wc: 2.5k

warnings: reader gets off in front of mark, fingering, morning sex, missionary, light overstimulation, pretty tame actually, softdom!mark, sub!reader

a/n: i am crazy but free. u gave me too much freedom to write what i wanted and now i realize just how much i want mark. mark please answer my calls

- ☁︎

when you wake up, you can feel the heat between your legs as you squeeze them together.

mark came home late last night, practice keeping him longer than he was expecting. you know it’s not easy for him, shaking your head when he tries to apologize to you. it didn’t matter how needy you felt, your boyfriend’s health mattered more to you than anything. he says he’ll make it up to you soon, but you hush him as you both lay down.

his arms wrap around your waist, his head nuzzling against your shoulder as he falls asleep. it’s easy for him, but his warm breath on your skin causes you to squirm around. you tell yourself to calm down, you’ll live if you don’t get fucked now, and try hard to go to sleep.

and you do, except that your dream involves mark fucking you into the sheets, whispering praises in your ear as he does so. when you wake up, it’s almost too much for you to handle. you can feel how drenched your panties are, how your cheeks are warm from how real the dream felt.

you’re not sure what you should do. you know mark is still sleeping, and you know you don’t really want to wake him up this early. he deserves his rest, but you can’t help the need building inside of you. you can only squeeze your thighs together, trying to fight off how badly you need him.

would it be so bad if you got off in front of him? you could sneak off to the restroom, but it’s warm under the blanket, mark’s scent surrounding you. your hand slips under your sleeping shorts and panties, fingers slowly circling around your clit. your hand slaps over your mouth, stopping a moan from coming out.

you know mark’s fingers would feel better than yours, but you have to make do with what you have. your fingers dip down to your entrance, two fingers sliding in easily with how wet you are. your mind drifts to mark catching you like this, wondering how he’d react to the sight of you like this.

you have to bite down on your tongue when your fingers move in and out of you, your palm digging into your clit. it’s too much and not enough, and if you could just wake up mark, you’d have everything you want. you fight against it, your hazy mind falling into how good you’re feeling.

when your fingers manage to hit the spot inside of you, you moan out louder than you mean to. even with your hand over your mouth, you know it might’ve been a little too loud. your ministrations still, your fingers inside you as you hear mark inhale deeply behind you. he groans a bit before he stretches a bit, his arm moving back across your waist.

his morning voice makes you clench around your fingers, “morning, baby. slept so good knowing you were at my side.”

you don’t know if he knows that you were getting yourself off, quietly clearing your throat before you speak, “good morning, mark. i’m glad you slept good.”

he pulls you close to him, head falling to the junction of your neck, inhaling your scent. you can feel him smile against your skin, touchy from the comfort of the morning. you’d call him cute, but your fingers are still inside you, walls clenching tightly just from mark being so close.

it’s quiet for a few moments, subtly shifting your hips to try to get your fingers in a little deeper. it’s not ideal, not when your boyfriend is right there, but what can you do.

“hey…” he starts, murmuring against you, “you feel a little hot, you okay?”

your cheeks heat up in embarrassment. do you tell him that you were just getting yourself off to the thought of him. is it too early to really do anything about this? he calls you again, this time his morning voice calling you baby.

you can’t help the whine that comes out of your mouth, slipping your fingers out of you as you turn to face him. he looks so good, and it’s still morning. his eyes look a little concerned, watching your face for any signs of discomfort. he realizes when you grab his hand to put it over your heat.

his fingers twitch, feeling how wet your panties are, mouth opening in shock. his eyes meet yours, and although they look tired, you can see desperation shine in them. he licks his lips, pupils dilating as he presses his palm against your clothed clit. “baby… do you- do you want me that badly?”

you quickly nod, grinding down onto his palm, trying to get any type of friction from him. he chuckles at the sight, “i kept you waiting too long, hmm? you needed me so much, and i kept you waiting, baby.”

he lays you onto your back as moves to sit in front of you. he slowly peels off your shorts and panties, not wanting to rush despite your hushed pleas. he shushes you softly, his thumb meeting your clit as his fingers prod at your entrance, “what’s gotten you so worked up?”

you answer quickly, “you. i dreamt about you, you fucked me so good, couldn’t help it.”

you can hear him suck in a breath at your words, his fingers sliding into you, satisfied with your answer. he doesn’t try teasing you, realizing just how badly you need him. you watch how his cock twitches in the confines of his shorts, feeling your walls clench around his fingers. “do you want my cock, baby? want me to fuck you?”

“please, mark. need you so bad, been needing you since last night.”

he watches as your hips chase his touch, trying to get his fingers deep inside. his hooded eyes meet yours again, “i’ll give you anything you want, want you to feel so good.”

a whimper escapes you as his fingers scissor inside you, opening you up for his cock. you can hear the lewd squelch of his fingers inside of you, your slick spilling out of you. his thumb circles around your clit, quickly trying to get you off. you can feel tightening in your stomach, your hands gripping onto the sheets.

before you can cum, you call out to him, “w-wait, mark. don’t wanna cum just yet, wanna cum on your cock, please.”

he shudders at your words, feels how his cock presses against the front of his shorts. “i k-know baby, i just… i might cum too fast, want you to cum now.”

at his words, his fingers press into your sweet spots, triggering your orgasm. his cock throbs when he feels your walls tighten around his digits, watching you moan out, curling into the sheets under you. he finds you so pretty like this, prettiest thing he’s ever seen.

he helps you ride out your orgasm, moving his fingers inside of you. he slowly pulls them out, watching them slowly as they slip out. his fingers are covered in your arousal, slowly bringing them up to his mouth to lick it all up. he moans around them, “tastes so sweet, my girl tastes so fuckin’ sweet.”

“please hurry, mark. wanna feel you in me already, wanna make you feel good now.”

he quickly slips off his shorts, not bothering to take them off all the way. his cock slaps against his stomach, precum at tip, begging for your touch. he watches you try to reach for his cock, but quickly swats your hands away. you pout at him, and he just sends you an embarrassed smile, “wanna make this about my girl, i know how much you need me.”

you nod at him, not trusting your voice with him so close to you. he pushes his hips against yours, pressing his length against your cunt. he rubs it against your slit, feeling how your slick wets his cock. his tip presses against your clit, causing you both to moan at the same time. you can tell mark is getting lost in the feeling, leaning towards you as he glides against your pussy.

he doesn’t realize how much he’s teasing you. you clench around nothing, wanting nothing more than his cock to fill you up. you try calling out to him, failing when all that comes out is a moan of his name when his tip presses against your entrance. you look at him expectantly, hoping he’ll slide in.

he doesn’t, his mouth falling open as he continues grinding against you. you can feel frustration build up in you, your boyfriend unintentionally keeping your orgasm from you. you stop him once you hear a deep groan fall from his lips, you whisper-shouting his name, breaking him away from the feeling of your warmth.

his eyes shoot towards yours, a light blush painting his cheeks as he lets out a shy laugh. “sorry, baby. just felt so good, didn’t mean to keep you waiting again.”

you reach for his hand, intertwining yours with his. he smiles at the action, lining up his tip at your entrance. he slowly slides in, biting down on his bottom lip to try to conceal any noise, but fails. a deep groan falls from him, “fuck, baby,” his hips slightly stutter against yours, “feel so good in the morning, sucking me in.”

small whimpers fall from your lips, moaning his name once he bottoms out. you can feel him twitch inside you, getting used to the feeling of your warm walls around him. he reaches out to your swollen clit, “been so long, forgot how tight my girl is.”

you nod, your eyes closed shut as you adjust to his cock. he calls out your name, your bleary eyes looking at him. “want you to look at me, baby. want you to see how good i make you feel.”

your hands make it to his shoulders, nails digging into your skin as he starts moving. his thrusts are slow but sharp, wanting to take his time with you so early in the morning. his eyes watch how his cock disappears inside you, watching how his hips press against yours. he can’t get enough of your pussy, can’t ever get enough of you. he’s missed this.

you pull him down to kiss you, lips pressing against each other as he thrusts into you. it’s slow, but it helps with your aching cunt, feeling so full with his cock inside you. between kisses, you speak out a confession, “mark, making me feel so good,” a moan cuts you off, “i was- i was touching myself before you woke up.”

his eyes shoot straight to yours, waiting for you to continue. “just need you so bad, didn’t wanna wake you up.”

“t-that’s so hot. fuck, you’re so hot.”

he pulls you into a kiss, slowing down his movements. his thrusts are deep and slow, letting yourself feel his cock against your walls. you moan into his mouth, his hand reaching under your shirt to grope at your chest. he tweaks a nipple between his fingers, a satisfied groan leaving his lips as you arch up to his touch.

he can feel your walls begin clenching around him, watches how you throw your head back against the pillows as you moan at his name. even through the haze in his mind, he thinks you’re the prettiest like this. he leans down to your ear, “are you gonna cum for me? is my needy baby gonna cum all over my cock?”

you let out a small yes, stray tears falling from your eyes as he wipes them away with his thumb. at the sweet action of your boyfriend, still caring for you so early in the morning, you cum. his thumb quickly rubs circles against your clit when he feels your walls clench around him.

he has to physically stop himself from cumming too fast, his hips stilling as your walls suck him in deeper, trying to milk his cock of all his cum. he’s not sure how he can hold back when you feel so good, when you call his name so sweetly, or how pretty you look cumming under him.

he calls out to you with a shaky voice, his head falling to your shoulder with a groan of your name. with a few quick thrusts, he cums inside of you, filling you up with his cum. you pull him close to you, and he can feel your hard nipples press against his chest. he’s letting out moans, pressing kisses against your skin as he rides out his orgasm.

“you’re so fucking tight, missed your pussy- missed you so much.” he grinds into you, feeling how your walls clench from overstimulation, “you were made for my cock, we were made for each other.”

he can’t help the sounds coming out of him, not when you clench around him so nicely. he moans in your ear, babbles of how good you feel and how much he’s misses this can only be heard. you can feel his thighs shake against you as it gets too much for him, causing him to still as his cock begs for him to slow down.

he takes a few breaths before he pulls out. he lazily sits back, watching your twitching cunt drip with his cum. he has to stop himself from pushing his cum back into you, fingers twitching at his side as he watches your cum slip down to your sheets. you kick him a little, a shy whine coming from you, embarrassed from how hard he was staring.

he laughs at you, joining you at your side. the sun fills the room, the warmth of your bodies together. he cuddles into your side, taking a deep breath, inhaling your scent. he takes a quick look at your face, thinks you look even prettier after you’ve cum in the morning. he smiles to himself, pressing a kiss to your shoulder.

“think i might have to make you cum every morning if it means i get to see you like this.”

you shove lightly at his shoulder, “you’re so weird-” he laughs hard at your whining, “can’t you just say i look nice and go?”

“can’t be normal around my girl, you make me go crazy.”

his head falls to your shoulder, fingers dancing across your skin, goosebumps raising at the feeling. your hand makes it to his hair, pushing it back as you press a kiss to his forehead. it’s quiet for a few moments more, your heartbeats syncing up from how close you are to each other. you could fall asleep like this.

mark realizes how heavy your breaths get, watching your covered chest rise and fall. he looks at you, so close he can count all the eyelashes on your face. he presses a kiss to your cheek before cuddling up next to you. he follows you back to sleep, a dream of you next to him playing in his mind.

#asks #reqs #nct smut #nct 127 smut #nct dream smut #mark lee fic #mark lee smut #mark lee x reader #mark lee scenarios

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tender-rosiey · 2 years ago

Text

hinting — gojo satoru x f!reader

a/n: thank @callmemirro for the bby fever idea but the video of the baby is what fueled the fire even more

you have a feeling that something has been plaguing your husband’s mind. it’s not a bad thing—like that way too expensive pea-sized handbag he wanted to get just to clown it.

it’s actually good and adorable especially with the way it gets him all smiley and bubbly.

you also started to notice when exactly he gets into these moods or rather regarding what.

for example, you were browsing the store once for new clothes. you and satoru agreed to split to search on a wider scale for discounts.

so when he came back, all smiley and excited, you expected a 50% sale or something. instead, you got surprised with possibly the cutest baby pajama ever.

“what do you think, babe? it’s so cute especially the little smiling duck in the middle!”

you take it from him, examining it up close. truthfully, the material is pretty good and it is soft on the skin. there is only one problem though.

you look up to your husband with a smile, “but, honey, we don’t have a baby.”

satoru deflates for a single second before standing up straight, proud, “hey, now! we can always get it for future plans,” he ogles you, but you quickly pinch his nose.

“haha, very funny.” you start pushing the cart towards that one outfit you liked with satoru following close by.

“y/n, I am serious!” he whines as his hand finds home on your waist.

“and I am a dinosaur in disguise.”

he gasps, “really?!”

“no.”

and that happened more than once.

another thing is that satoru has been obsessed with baby videos.

you remember that one time you were chilling on your beloved couch when he came stumbling into the room, clutching his phone and almost dying of laughter, “y/n! y/n! look at this baby!”

satoru is wheezing as he replays the video over and over again. his uncontrollable laughter is music to your ears, but you feel that you’re going to have to take him to a therapist or a mental hospital.

he laughs loudly for sure, but he has been like this for 4 hours, showing you a baby video every minute or so.

you look at him with sympathy as he cackles, “it was so ready to square up too—huh, what’re you doing?”

you pull him into your embrace and he immediately melts, arms wrapping around you in an instant.

you gently rub his back and press a kiss to the top of his head, “my poor baby,” you coo and gojo lights up: have you finally understood what he has been hinting at?

you cup his face and kiss his cheeks, “work must’ve taken quite a toll on you; we can go to the hosp—“

“hey! that’s just mean!”

he huffs moving away and giving you his back, but then he looks back at you, “but the baby was cute, right?”

you laugh, resting your chin on his shoulder, “yeah, in a way, it reminded me of megumi.”

“you’re so right! even as a first-grader, he was so ready to fight anyone.”

another memorable incident happened when you were in a park, taking a walk with your darling husband.

it was peaceful, accompanied by the squeals of children, the coolness of the ice cream, and the comfort of your husband’s presence. speaking of which, where’s that guy?

you look around, searching for a very prominent walking paintbrush. you blink once, twice, and he is finally in front of you with a huge grin, “y/n, look at this cutie pie I just met!”

you soften at the sight of the giggling baby in his arms. the little baby girl reaches out for you and you cradle her in your arms.

cooing at her, you rock gently while making silly faces and it makes her laugh a laugh from her belly. it also makes a certain someone sport the most lovesick smile known to existence.

smiling, you look at your husband, “where did you find her? was she lost?”

your husband sweatdrops and looks to the side, glasses showing off his bright blue eyes, “about that—“

“there he is, officer! he took my baby!”

so yeah, something is up with your husband, and you have had enough with him hiding it from you. god is on your side today as you’re finally able to back him into a corner and finally interrogate him.

“satoru, is there something you want to tell me?” you ask the man, breathless after running around the school for a couple of hours.

silence occupies the room before your husband finally gives in.

he takes a deep breath and hugs you, resting his head on your shoulder, “I want…” he mumbles, “I want a baby, please?”

you are silent for a moment then you make him look you in the eyes, “really?”

“really,” he says, voice unwavering, “I know that it might be scary, but we have experience with tsumiki and megumi, and they turned out just fine!” he starts rambling, “except for megumi, he can be bratty sometimes, but point is!” he holds your hands in his, “I want to start a family with you, but if you don’t want—“

“okay.”

“—to I completely understand and…wait—did you just say okay?”

“yeah,” you beam, “let’s have a baby. you could’ve said that right away, silly.”

he stares at you for a bit, “do you have any idea how LONG I HAVE BEEN—“

taglist: @magenta-cat-drawings @pompompurin1028 @scul-pted @dazaisdeathwish @requiem626k @nameless-shrimp @shinys-bsd-world-1 @sonder-paradise @ravenina14 @jessbeinme15s-notebook @todorokichills @ginneko @missrown @shrynkk @simplyxsinned @beautiful-is-boring @starlostlaiba @izukus-gf @irethepotato @thekaylahub @dazaisbloodybandages @aeanya @sweetcloudsimp @moon-catto @the-midnightskies @pianopuppygirl @gojosblackqueen @kryscent @kunikida-simp @whoami-72 @fiona782 @kisakitwister @imjustasimpxd @psychopotatomeme @dreamcastgirl99 @watyousayin @doobiebochana @laylasbunbunny @hojicha-expresso @4sat0ruu @nineooooo @chuuyasboots @alekssashka7 @rieejjyubi02 @wemma67 @nothisispatrick300 @fallencrescentmoon @etheviese @ho34gojo @mx-0-child @that-mom-friend-dot-com

do not copy or plagiarize or you will be reported

#gojo x reader #gojo satoru x reader #gojo imagine #jjk imagines #gojou satoru x reader #jjk x reader #jjk x you #gojo x you #gojo satoru #jjk gojo x reader #gojo x y/n #jjk gojo x you #gojo satoru fluff #gojo satoru imagine #gojo satoru x you #gojo satoru x y/n #satoru gojo fluff #gojo fluff

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clockwayswrites · 4 months ago

Text

Cozytober Day 4: "Thank you for putting up with me."

masterpost

“Walls?” Danny prompted after another few sips. “Filtering?”

“Oh, sure. Stay upright for a moment,” Jason ordered.

He leaned forward enough to snag his work bag and rifle around for his tablet. Danny gamely stayed upright, but slumped back against Jason as soon as he could. To his credit, Jason juggled Danny, his own hot chocolate, and the table with ease.

Soon the wall’s specs were pulled up on the screen and Jason was chatting away about everything that worked and didn’t work with the current construction of the walls. There was no denying that Gotham had particular needs with freak weather changes, temperamental plants, and poisonous gases. But it was good to see Jason so excited about this start.

By the time that the mugs were long empty and Jason as running out of steam, Danny took a deep breath and it came easily. There were no more words or worries or frustrations clogging up his throat. There was just him. He closed his eyes and let out the breath slowly.

Jason stopped talking and pressed a light kiss to Danny’s temple. “Hey there.”

“Hey,” Danny said with a soft smile. “Sorry about the silent invasion. I know I didn’t exactly give you a heads up.”

“Coming home to find you in my bed is never a bad thing,” Jason said. He leaned forward to set his things on the coffee table before taking Danny’s empty mug too. “Besides, I didn’t add you to my door code for you not to visit. You’re always welcome here, boo.”

“A dangerous offer,” Danny said.

“I know what I’m getting into,” Jason replied. He pressed another kiss to Danny’s forehead before he took the mugs to the kitchen.

Danny stretched slowly. “Lies. I am a man of mystery!”

“Danny,” Jason said, giving a dry look from over the kitchen island. “You spilled being a Meta two weeks into us knowing each other.”

“I’m not a Meta, it’s a medical condition, and besides, you were so worried about me getting randomly killed on the streets of Gotham. I had to do something to reassure you!” Danny made himself get off the couch. He grabbed Jason’s work bag and took it over to where it normally hung by the door. He fished the folder out of the front pocket—work Jason would insist on doing over the weekend—and took it to the desk that sat in front of one massive window bays.

“Not a man of mystery.”

“I could have secrets! I could have lots of secrets.”

“Yeah, and what’s one of them.”

“I,” Danny started as he made his way to Jason, “would kill for your hot chocolate.”

Jason laughed and wrapped his arms around Danny’s waist. “Not a secret, and please don’t. I would be forced to cover up the murder and then various members of my family would give me that disappointed look.”

“Your family always sounds so interesting.”

“You could meet them yourself at dinner tomorrow.”

Danny froze. Danny froze and he knew Jason felt it by the the way his brows drew together and his mouth twitched almost into a frown.

“I’m sorry—” Danny started at the same time as Jason tried to say, “Forget I said anything.”

They both closed their mouths with a snap.

Danny broke the silence with a sigh. “I just… soon, okay? I just want to be… better.”

“You don’t have to be better, Danny. They’d love you just like this.”

Danny shook his head. “I just… can’t. I know you want me to meet them, but I just can’t yet. I know it’s… I know that… just…”

Jason quieted Danny with a kiss. “It’s okay Danny, when you’re ready.”

“Thanks for putting up with me.”

“I’m not ‘putting up with you’, Danny,” Jason said. “Giving you room isn’t putting up with you. I like who you are. And I know you aren’t ready, but my family would too. We’re all fuck ups, we’ve got no room to judge anyone.”

Danny gave a little startled snort of laughter. “You’re all Waynes.”

“And the Waynes are fucked up. We’ve been in Gotham too long, fucked up is part of the DNA.”

“You’re adopted.”

“Semantics.”

--- AN: Danny, poking at Jason's hyperfixation to have some calming chatter.

Gods I've missed writing these two ;-;

#dp x dc #dead on main #danny/jason #cozy dead #cozytober2024

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456-is-the-way · 1 month ago

Note

Hi! I was wondering if you if you could do a smutty In-ho x fem! Reader x Gi-Hun. Something along the line of they are both pining and see each other go to talk to reader alone and decide to wait. In-ho talks to her during lights out and Gi-hun talks to her doing mingle. In the final fight, she goes with either in-ho or Gi-hun and the stand of at the end, ends with them deciding to truce for a moment and share reader.

A/n: OMG A smutty story with both the hottest daddies!? Yet people keep the requests coming because I have many more to write! I hope to post at least 3 stories a week only because I am returning to my job after my holiday vacation! ALSO regarding the TAGLIST IDK why it won't let me add people like some it won't bring their name up SO I am not sure how to fix that RIP Im sorry y'all!!! ALSO, late tonight or tomorrow my part 1 of my 4-part Gi-Hun story is coming out!! (Hints of In-ho x reader) will also be in the story! Next week I'll have 3 more requests stories done!

Trigger warning: SMUT

Squid Game Masterlist

In-ho x Reader x Gi-hun

Love and War

Being in the games was the last thing (Y/n) was expecting, or at least in a life-or-death situation. She took a breath, looking over the group she was lucky enough to be in. Gi-hun did not hide the looks in her direction. Her (e/c) orbs meet his. (Y/n) could feel her cheeks warm up as Gi-hun winked. She turned away, looking at the ground quickly. How could two people be so obvious in their lustful looks? Their group quickly picked up on their subtle hints, flirtatious works, mindful touches, and lustful gazes. However, it sparked a rivalry between Gi-hun and his newfound friendship with Young-Il. The other gentleman also expressed his feelings towards (Y/n), which did not go unnoticed. (Y/n) happily reciprocated the attention she received from both of these handsome bachelors. It was lights out, and as normal, their group gathered in one spot, taking turns on night shift duty. Many thought of them as one of the strongest teams for now. In-ho sighed deeply as he was woken by Jung-bae. “Your turn.” He whispered. In-ho only responded with a grunt getting up to take his place by (Y/n). In-ho looked over her figure. It honestly pained him to lie to (Y/n) of all people. While scouting for participants, he would collect all their data and reasoning for poor financial situations. He never showed favor or pity towards anyone until now. Why did it have to be her of all people?

“I can take watch by myself if you need me to. I want you to have all the rest. Especially for the next challenge… I am nervous to find out what it may be.” In-ho whispered. She gave him such a warm and loving smile. In-ho had not felt butterflies like this in his stomach in so long the feeling was almost foreign. The way her eyes would almost sparkle while gazing into his. In-ho felt his breath be taken away every time.

“No, I won't allow you to not have a partner. We agreed on pairs of two. I am going to be fine. I could say the same for you, Young-Il.” She gazed into his eyes and before anything else could be said In-ho leaned in kissing her deeply. (Y/n) gasped but did not pull back once his warm lips dominated hers. In-ho cupped her cheek before letting his hand trail down squeezing her beast. “W-Wait.” Her voice seemed weak from the desire but quickly In-ho stopped all his advances.

“Fuck (Y/n) I am so sorry if I hurt you.” His eyes showed nothing but absolute worry.

“Young-Il, you didn’t hurt me. I just. We cant I-”

“You love Gi-hun. Don’t you?” He asked.

She looked away rubbing her temples. “I am unsure who I like. I have feelings for you both but if we act out on them… If you or him dies I would never be able to get over your death, or is..” She leans against In-ho resting on his shoulder.

“I understand…I love you.”

“I… I love you as well.” (Y/n) whispered cuddling into him.

….

After the night the next game had started early that morning, and (Y/n) had not been expecting what was to come. As the game commenced it felt very intense making sure the groups had the correct amount of people in each room. They even teamed up with new players they clicked with instantly. As it began getting lower in numbers for each door (Y/n) became nervous. She felt Gi-hun grab her hand gently. “I got you.” He whispered. Once the merry-go-round stopped and the number was ‘2’ he instantly took off with her ultimately forgetting about any of the others. Even shamelessly (Y/n) did not even look back for In-ho. Once in the room the door instantly shut. The female leaned against the wall as Gi-hun was breathing heavily on the other side of the room, “Gi-hun, are you okay?”

Gi-hun did not bother to answer before walking over to (Y/n) and kissing her deeply. The female lets a shaken moan out as their bodies are pressed against each other. His hands hold her waist before lowering down her backside and cupping her ass. “G…Gi-hun, babe, we cant.” Her body was on fire for this handsome older man.

“You love me… I know you do.” He let you go resting his forehead against yours.

“I…I do love you. I have since the moment I laid eyes on you. I can’t be with you Gi-hun. I wont risk getting attached-”

“Is it because of Young-Il? Is that the true reason? I heard you both talking last night. I know you have feelings for him of some kind… I want to know if he-”

“No, my love it's not because of Young-Il… I care for you both but if I got too attached and lost either of you I… I wouldn't be able to ever move on.” When the doors unlocked she took his hand, “Talk later okay?”

Gi-hun nods walking out as their hand in hand. In-ho instantly noticed and sent a glare at Gi-hun who met his gaze with a stronger one.

…

(Y/n) was soaked in her friend's blood as she was on her knees. Gi-hun and Jung-Bae beside her on their knees. In front of them stood a man who organized the games. With a quick hand motion from the man in the black mask, Jung-Bae was pulled away. Gi-hun went to help but a gun was quickly pulled out.

“Don’t” (Y/n) begged, tearing up. Her eyes widen as the gun slowly is lowered.

“I love you (Y/n).” The Front Man whispered she glared into his eyes.

“I hate you.” She glared. In-ho took a moment before removing his mask. Both (Y/n) and Gi-hun gave his a look showing all their bundled up emotions. “You… are the Frontman. HOW COULD YOU!” (Y/n) cried loudly .

In-ho leans down, “My real name is In-ho, I joined yes, but I never expected to fall in love with you! Please… Let me have you before anything else happens… Gi-hun.” He turned to his friend who reluctantly nodded they both desired you and that over powered all current feeling. The triangle guard let Gi-hun free before leaving.

“Please lets forget about all of this. For a few moments.” Gi-hun adds agreeing with In-ho. What felt like eternity she agrees.

Gi-hun instantly pulled her against his frame smashing their lips together. In-ho kneels down pressing against her back side kissing up (Y/n)’s neck. The female moaned loudly into the kiss as her body is sandwiched between theirs. “Fuck.” She gasped as Gi-hun trailed down to the other side of her neck. In-ho proceeded to slides his large hands under her shirt cupping her bare breasts. Her nipples already were hard. “Ngh! (Y/n) whined as he pinch them roughly pulling her buds harshly.

“Take her shirt off.” In-ho growled.

“Slide her pants down.” Gi-hun adds. (Y/n) had no time to react before her shirt was being lifted and sweatpants pulled down swiftly. Once practically naked she puts a hand on their bulges rubbing both men. They let out a shaken groan each, Gi-hun’s voice held a submissive tone while In-ho growled dominantly. Their already hardening cocks were at full attention. Gi-hun’s leaking precum at the tip. In-ho leans his forhead against (Y/n)’s shoulder cock twitching as she worked both touch starved men.

“F-Fuck I’m close.” Gi-hun whined.

In-ho chuckled,” Baby slow down before he blows a load in your hands. Let us inside of you.”

“MMmm… But will b-both fit?” She asked inhaling as Gi-hun reached down feeling her soaking wet panties.

“Fuck you are soaked honey. Did jerking us off turn you on that much?.. Yes dear we will both fit.”

(Y/n) nods and spreads her legs, In-ho nods to Gi-hun, She arches, feeling both their cocks brushing her entrance. “AHH FUCK Gi-hun. In-ho!~” (Y/n) was held up by the men who began roughly thrusting into her tight and warm pussy.

“Fuck baby you are tight.” “Your pussy was made for your us.” “Going to fill you up.”

Both of their praises made the knot tighten inside of her. “FUCK!” She cried out as their cock meet the perfect rythem until she felt the euphoria hit all at once. Her pussy clams down making both men cum deep inside. The three now lay there panting in pleasure. (Y/n) closed her eyes.

“I love you both.” Her voice is strained. Gi-hun instantly responsed with a quick ‘I love you back’ .

In-ho sighed deeply kissing her cheek knowing nothing would be the same after this. He loved her too much.

#squid game x reader #player 456 #seong gi hun #seong gi hun x reader #squid game fanfiction #squid game smut #in ho x reader #gihun x inho #gihun x frontman #squid game fanfic #seong gihun smut #in ho smut #455 #001 squid game #001 x 456 #smut #Jung-Bae #gihunxreaderxinho

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onebadassunicorn · 4 days ago

Text

Love Lies

pairing: Azriel x Reader

content warnings: pining, angst, talk of death

word count: 1.9k

Taglist @motheroffae @tele86 @sinfully-yoursss @kathren1sky-blog @demon-master-zero @sillyfreakfanparty @phoenix666stuff @ quiet-because-it-is-a-secret @i-am-infinite

Chapter 1

Chapter 2

Chapter 3

Chapter 4

Chapter 5

Chapter 6

Chapter 7

Chapter 8

Chapter 9

Image of Alatar owned by Velocity Visual Media.

********

Chapter 10

The moon hung heavy over Hewn City, its dim light barely breaking through the thick layer of shadows curling through the streets.

Everything had to go perfectly.

There was no room for mistakes.

Rhysand’s voice was calm but firm as he stood before them in the alleyway, going over the plan one last time.

“Azriel,” Rhys said, his violet eyes sharp, commanding, “once you have her, take her to the cabin. Get her as far from Hewn City as possible.”

Azriel nodded, his chest tightening painfully at the mention of their cabin—the place that had once been their sanctuary, the place he hadn’t set foot in since he had let her slip through his fingers.

“Cassian and Lucien,” Rhys continued, shifting his gaze between them, “as soon as I drop the wards, Az moves in. I’ll hold them until I know he has her, then I’ll winnow to your location to ensure you get away from Alatar unscathed.”

Cassian gave a firm nod, rolling his shoulders, his battle instincts kicking in.

Lucien let out a tense breath, his face a mask of pure determination. “He’s going to want my power,” he murmured, flexing his fingers as fire sparked between them. “He won’t be able to resist.”

Rhys’s power hummed through the alley, dark and unforgiving. “That’s the only reason this will work.”

Azriel shifted restlessly, his shadows slithering along his arms, their agitation mirroring his own. His heart was pounding, his hands itching to move. He had waited long enough.

Rhys’s gaze snapped to him, as if reading his thoughts. “As soon as you have her, you winnow. Don’t look back. Don’t wait for us. Just go.”

Azriel nodded tightly, swallowing the thick knot of emotion in his throat.

And then, with a final glance between them—

The mission began.

*****

Lucien and the spy moved swiftly through the darkened streets, their steps silent as they approached Alatar’s estate.

The spy turned to Lucien, his face grim. “You sure about this?”

“Just do it.” Lucien exhaled sharply before winnowing to the alley.

The spy nodded and bolted for the warlock’s home, banging his fist against the grand, blackened doors.

Alatar’s shadowy figure appeared almost instantly, his cold, calculating eyes flickering with annoyance. “What?”

“High Lord Beron’s son,” the spy panted, feigning desperation. “He’s been beaten within an inch of his life. He’s bleeding out in an alleyway near the pleasure district. If you hurry, you can save him.”

Alatar stilled.

A moment of silence.

Then—his lips curled into a slow, predatory grin.

Beron’s son?

A prince of the Autumn Court?

A chance to absorb the raw, molten fire magic of a High Lord’s heir?

Alatar disappeared in a flash of darkness, heading straight for the alley.

Lucien laid in the alley, motionless, his pulse thundering in his ears.

Then—Cassian’s voice through his link with Rhys.

“Alatar’s moving. Now.”

*****

The moment the words left Cassian’s lips, Rhys brought the wards down.

Azriel winnowed into the house, his heart slamming against his ribs, his shadows curling around him, sensing you before he even saw you.

And then—

There you were.

Lying on a grand four-poster bed, your face soft, peaceful, your breathing even—

But something was wrong.

Azriel’s gut twisted violently.

You weren’t just asleep.

His shadows crawled toward you, sensing the residual traces of sleeping tonics in your system.

His blood boiled.

Alatar had kept you sedated, had kept you drugged, so you wouldn’t resist when the time came.

Azriel rushed forward, dropping to his knees beside the bed.

His hands hovered above your skin, hesitant, afraid to touch you. Afraid that if he did, you would vanish.

“Y/N,” he whispered, voice hoarse, breaking.

Your lashes fluttered, a soft murmur escaping your lips.

Azriel’s breath caught.

He leaned closer, pressing his forehead against yours. “Wake up, please, wake up.”

Your eyes fluttered open.

And when you saw him—

You smiled.

A sleepy, hazy smile, as if you thought he was just a dream.

“I missed you,” you whispered, your voice soft, fragile. “I missed you so much, Az.”

Azriel’s throat closed, his chest aching.

You reached up, your trembling fingers brushing along his jaw. “Why did you choose her?”

Azriel froze.

Your eyes filled with tears, your lips quivering.

“You were supposed to be mine forever,” you breathed, your voice cracking.

Azriel’s heart shattered.

His hand cupped your cheek, his thumb stroking softly over your skin.

“I was always yours,” he whispered, his voice wrecked. “Always.”

You blinked slowly, your body still heavy from the tonics, and Azriel knew you weren’t fully lucid.

He couldn’t explain everything now.

Couldn’t tell you how wrong he had been.

How he had been poisoned, manipulated. How he had spent the last few weeks tearing apart this city to find you.

He couldn’t tell you how much he hated himself for not seeing it sooner.

So instead, he whispered the only truth he knew.

“I love you,” he breathed, his voice shaking, pressing a soft kiss to your forehead. “And I’m taking you home.”

You murmured something incoherent, your body already slipping back into sleep, and Azriel gently gathered you in his arms.

His wings flared, and with one last look around the dark, sinister room—

He winnowed.

*****

The alley was dark and silent, the air thick with the smell of damp stone and stale blood. A chill ran through the night, a stillness settling over the space as if the very shadows were holding their breath.

Alatar strode forward, his robes billowing behind him, his sharp, calculating gaze locked on the motionless body sprawled across the cobblestone.

Lucien.

Beron’s heir.

A golden opportunity waiting to be claimed.

Alatar grinned, his hands flexing with anticipation. To absorb the fire magic of the Autumn heir—to take power that had been in Beron’s bloodline for centuries—it was an opportunity too good to pass up.

He knelt beside Lucien, reaching out to roll him over—

And then darkness erupted around him.

Alatar froze, his instincts screaming at him, but before he could react, a cold, invisible force locked around his body, paralyzing him where he knelt.

His breath hitched.

Rhysand stepped from the shadows, his violet eyes blazing with death and night.

“Going somewhere?” Rhys purred, his voice dangerous, smooth as silk laced with poison.

Alatar snarled, his magic flaring outward, tendrils of raw power snapping through the air—

But Rhys barely blinked.

With a flick of his wrist, Alatar’s magic snapped back onto him, the force of Rhys’s power pressing hard into his body, locking him down tighter.

Alatar gritted his teeth, straining against it. “You fool,” he spat. “You think you can restrain me?”

“I don’t think, warlock.” Rhysand’s voice was a blade in the dark. “I know.”

Alatar tried again—tried to summon the magic of the hundreds he had stolen from over the centuries—but he made one critical mistake.

He had never absorbed power from the Night Court.

And now, he was facing the most powerful High Lord in history.

Rhys’s magic crushed him, dark tendrils coiling around his limbs, pressing him further into the stone.

Alatar let out a choked, strangled sound, his limbs twitching violently, his face twisted in pure fury.

Cassian emerged from the other end of the alley, his steps calm, his Siphons glowing, his expression utterly unbothered.

Lucien groaned, rolling onto his side and sitting up, rubbing his temple. “Well, that was unpleasant.” He looked at Alatar, smirking. “You really thought you were about to steal my power?”

Alatar bared his teeth at him. “I should have killed you when I had the chance.”

Lucien just grinned, his golden eye burning with satisfaction. “Well. Too late now.”

Rhysand crouched beside Alatar, his smile mocking, slow, amused. “Did you really think we’d let you keep her?”

Alatar’s eyes narrowed, pure rage burning in his dark gaze.

“She’s gone,” Rhys continued, voice soft but lethal. “And you will never see her again.”

Alatar shook with fury, his muscles straining against the invisible force binding him.

“You have no idea what you’ve done,” he hissed, his voice low and venomous.

“Oh, I think I do,” Rhys countered smoothly. “You tried to steal from me. You tried to take what isn’t yours. And now, you’re left with nothing.”

Alatar’s entire body trembled with rage. “This isn’t over.”

Rhys’s brows lifted in mock amusement. “Oh?”

Alatar’s voice darkened, becoming something twisted and cruel. “I will have my vengeance,” he spat, his lips curling into a vicious snarl. “On the Shadowsinger, for taking what was mine. On you, High Lord, for interfering. And on that lying Autumn bastard, for tricking me.”

Lucien scoffed, crossing his arms. “You’re just mad you lost.”

Alatar’s face twisted in a sneer. “Enjoy your victory while you can,” he said softly, a terrible promise laced in every syllable.

Rhys sighed, standing up, dusting off his tunic as if bored. “Yes, yes, evil threats, vengeance, blah blah blah.” He flicked a hand. “I’ll be sure to add you to my ever-growing list of people who want me dead.”

Rhys released the magic holding Alatar still with another pulse of power—but before the warlock could even move, Cassian stepped forward and slammed a brutal punch into his jaw, sending him sprawling into the filth of the alleyway.

With a snap of his fingers, Rhysand winnowed all three of them away.

*****

They arrived in the House of Wind with a rush of cold air and darkness, appearing in the grand sitting room where the Inner Circle had been waiting.

Amren was lounging in her usual chair, her silver eyes flicking up casually, as if she had been expecting them.

Feyre, Mor, and Nesta were gathered near the fireplace, their faces filled with tension and unease.

When the three males appeared, Mor’s lips curled.

“Well, well,” she mused, standing. “Look what the storm dragged in.”

Cassian rolled his shoulders, sighing dramatically. “That went well.”

Rhys spoke through the bond.

Azriel.

A long pause.

Then—Azriel’s voice, strained, raw.

We’re here. She’s safe.

Rhys exhaled, tension easing from his shoulders.

He turned to the rest of the group, finally relaxing just enough to say, “It’s done.”

The room exhaled collectively, a weight lifting from their chests.

Lucien, still standing near Cassian, exhaled heavily, rubbing the back of his neck. His eye flickered toward Feyre before he finally asked:

“What about Elain?”

The question stilled the room.

Rhys turned to him, his expression unreadable. “She has been exiled.”

Lucien didn’t react. He merely stared at the floor, his face unreadable.

Feyre, though, sighed softly. “I still keep up with her,” she admitted. “If you want to see her, I can tell you where she is.”

Lucien’s jaw tightened. He didn’t answer for a long moment.

Then—

“No.”

“I would, however,” Lucien continued, his voice quieter now, “like to talk about my bond with her.”

Rhys and Feyre exchanged a look, then Rhys nodded once.

“Come,” he said, leading the way to his private study. “Let’s talk.”

Lucien followed, his shoulders tense, his mind whirling with what he was about to do.

He had held onto hope for too long.

But now, after everything that had happened, he knew—

It was time to let her go.

Chapter 11

#acotar #acotar fanfiction #azriel acotar #azriel shadowsinger #azriel spymaster #azriel x reader #azriel fanfic #azriel fanfiction #azriel #azriel x you #azriel fic #azriel x y/n #azriel angst #azriel x female!reader

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formulafics · 1 year ago

Text

★ DO I WANNA KNOW? | JB22

Scenario: in which a series of unexpected events, starting with being stuck in the same hotel room with a single bed, takes teammates yn ln and jenson button from major rivals to lovers.

Pairing: jenson button x fem!reader

A/N: no one asked for this but LAWD I LOVE JENSON BUTTON. i had to do something about it 😔 shoutout to @renarots for supplying memes and 4 am brain rot that contributed to the making of this fic and most of my other ones too

NOTE: yn and jenson drive for mercedes (i had to do this for my own sanity)

racing_news

liked by buttonnation, sebrrari, and 12,432 others

racing_news jenson button responds to questions about his relationship with teammate yn ln following this weekends rumors.

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formulawrld idec about the rumors jenson looks so fine bro

formulavettel i bet seb knows all the tea about them. sebastian please spill

webbersebberf1 🤨 surely they could have just gotten another room? they have the money for it. idk, me thinks they’re dating and trying to keep it secret

⤷ ferrarilvr LITERALLY. you genuinely cannot convince me that they aren’t dating after this

⤷ shumione you genuinely thing they’re together even with how much they clearly don’t like each other?

⤷ ferrarilvr 🤷🏻‍♀️ things change and honestly i feel like they’ve had feelings for each other and just didn’t want to admit it

It had been three months since the “hotel incident”. Finally, you texted him. You weren’t sure what to expect from him, but you were ultimately relieved by his response, and didn’t wast a single moment on making your way to him.

With each step you take, a small splash sounds beneath your feet. Rain patters on the ground, and you pull your jacket closed in an attempt to shield yourself from the cold gust of wind that blows through the night. Each stride is powerful and determined - the truth is, you like Jenson. What once was a deep disdain for the man has somehow formed into a blossoming adoration for him. Miscommunications and mistakes lead you down the wrong path with him, but ever since the night of the “hotel incident” — as you, Jenson, and your team call it — you haven’t been able to see him in a bad light.

“Look, i’m sorry,” Jenson says, his expression softer than it had ever been towards you. You were almost offended, thinking he was about to try and make you feel bad, but that wasn’t the case. “You’re more than welcome to go - actually, i’ll pay for your hotel room if you want to leave, but if you’re choosing to stay, i’ll give you your space.” It was unlike him, at least, the him that you knew. He seemed remorseful and genuine, like you and him were anything but rivals. It made your heart beat just a little faster in your chest, and you couldn’t deny how strangely right it felt to be in the same bed with him. Even sharing the room was almost natural.

You turned away from each other to change, but both of you were guilty of peeking over your shoulder. Your eyes lingered for longer than you’d ever admit, but the same went for him. Neither of you could muster the courage to say anything, to address the tension between you both, and despite what should have been an awkward atmosphere, you both found yourselves comfortable in each others presence, even with the weight of your forbidden thoughts.

Not much happened after that, truthfully. Things did change though. Suddenly, his presence didn’t irk you, and you could never get on his nerves. You worked together more willingly, almost volunteered, and through those minor changes, you both came to realize how wrong you’d been about the other. Sure, Jenson had his moments, but he was sweet, a genuine and polite guy. You weren’t entitled the way Jenson thought - in fact, you were humble, kind…and how could he ever not see just how beautiful you are?

He doesn’t know the answer to that, but now, knowing that you’re moments away, he finds himself anxious. In a good way. He’s excited to see you, and he laughs to himself about how ironic that is given how he used to dread seeing you. A knock on his door draws him back to reality, and he knows it’s you. Outside of the hotel room, you wait impatiently, and breathe a sigh of relief when he finally opens the door. Instanly, like an instinct, you step forward and wrap your arms around him, nuzzling into his warmth. His reaction is just as instinctive, and he wraps his arms around you, guiding you into the privacy of his room.

For the first time, you talked. Not yelled, not argued, just spoke to one another. It was a completely different experience for the two of you, one that you never thought would come of your relationship, but it came to you naturally. The warm touch of his hand holding yours, the somehow assuring and slightly intimidating way he looked at you as you spoke, the way he didn’t just listen to you, he heard you. And, you did the same for him. Though he didn’t have much to say, you listened and heard, and soon, you felt as though you’d only just met him, yet known him for years. Not the rival Jenson, but a Jenson you could get used to, one that you didn’t back away from when he leaned in.

It was a small, sealing kiss that he placed on your lips. One to really ensure that all of this was happening, that things were changing between the both of you, and you both accepted it, with a weight lifting off of your shoulders.

mercedesamgf1

liked by the.ynln, jensonbutton, and 265,672 others

mercedesamgf1 last time in Abu Dhabi…

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hereforbutton okay but are jenson and yn dating? PLEASE TELL US

formulaobsessed ARE YOUR DRIVERS DATING? YES OR NO?

⤷ mercedesamgf1 🤭

⤷ hereforbutton okay so what the fuck does that mean

formulayn we do NOT care about jenson rn where is my wife

mercamgfan maybe this time don’t prioritize the inferior driver 🙏🏻 yn deserves her wdc

hereforyn i’m so scared that this race is gonna send yn and jenson back into their rival arc

⤷ jensonbuttonlvr NO WHY WOULD YOU SAY THAT. i cant handle them going back to rivals now

⤷ ynsgirlie i know. now that we have them being nice, i can’t imagine going back to what they used to be

mercedesamgf1

liked by the.ynln, jensonbutton, nicorosberg, and 346,789 others

mercedesamgf1 OUR WORLD CHAMPION ❤️ an exceptional performance from yn today, and a well deserved win. thank you for another amazing year, @/the.ynln

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the.ynln i’m gonna cry 💔 thank you guys so much.

formulayn THATS MY FUCKING WIFE IM SO PROUD OF HER

buttonynamg MY BABIES P1-P2 IN WDC IM SO PROUD RIGHT NOW

formulaobssesed who’s here after the post race interview? 🤭

⤷ markwebba I KNEW THEY WERE GONNA FALL IN LOVE

⤷ jensonsbutton bro jenson was heart eyes for her in the whole interview and the way he kissed her cheek when she started talking about their relationship 💔 he was so gentle

⤷ hereforbutton what got me was her getting emotional about the win and him hugging her like :( i was always hoping they’d start getting along but i did not expect them to become like this

🏷️: general taglist | @renarots @jsjcue @illicitverstappen @lovstappen @minkyungseokie @treehouse-mouse

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wolvietxt · 3 months ago

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unexpected confession prompts!

moments when the truth slips out before they can stop it, and everything feels suddenly different

🌀 it’s the middle of a heated argument, voices raised, hands gesturing wildly. suddenly, they stop mid-sentence, chest heaving. “you’re all i ever think about,” they blurt out, the anger draining from their face as if they only just realized it themselves.

🌀 you’re teasing them relentlessly, fingers brushing their arm, lips curved into a playful smile. they grab your wrist, pulling you closer until you’re practically nose to nose. “keep it up,” they murmur, voice low and rough, “and i’ll show you just how much i’ve been wanting this.”

🌀 you’re both stuck in an elevator, tense silence filling the small space. out of nowhere, they nervously start rambling about their day but end up confessing, “…and then i realized i’m in love with you.” you both stare at each other, wide-eyed, as the elevator dings and the doors open.

🌀 it's your birthday party, and they’re giving a heartfelt toast. “you’ve always been my favorite,” they say, looking directly at you with a softness in their eyes that wasn’t there before. the room goes silent, the confession hanging in the air like an electric charge.

🌀 you’re casually scrolling through old photos together, laughing at the memories. then they point to one, saying, “this was the moment i knew i loved you,” their voice soft, barely above a whisper. your heart skips a beat as you realize they’ve been holding this in for years.

🌀 it’s 4 am, and you’re both delirious with exhaustion, trying to assemble a piece of flat-pack furniture. between the chaos and laughter, they suddenly say, “i love you more than i hate this stupid shelf.” it takes you a moment to realize they’re completely serious.

🌀 the confession slips out in the middle of a mundane conversation, like they just can’t hold it back anymore. you’re discussing grocery lists and laundry detergent when they casually say, “by the way, i think i’m in love with you,” before going back to debating the merits of fabric softener.

🌀 you’re stuck in traffic together, both of you getting increasingly annoyed. without thinking, they hit the steering wheel in frustration and yell, “i hate this! …but not as much as i hate pretending i don’t love you.” it’s a confession wrapped in irritation, as raw as it gets.

🌀 it happens during a game of truth or dare, the lights dimmed, everyone gathered in a circle. someone asks them the most dreaded question: “who do you like?” there’s a long pause before they finally look directly at you, eyes unflinching, and say your name.

🌀 you’re working together late into the night, the room lit only by your laptop screens. the silence is broken when they absentmindedly say, “if i die first, just know i’ve been in love with you.” they brush it off as a joke, but there’s a flicker of truth in their eyes.

🌀 it’s raining, and you’re both huddled under a shared umbrella, racing to get home. as you laugh about being soaked, they suddenly stop in the middle of the street and pull you closer, “i don’t want this to just be friendship anymore.”

🌀 you’re playfully wrestling over the last slice of pizza, both of you laughing breathlessly. they pin you down, faces inches apart, and suddenly their laughter fades. “god, i want you,” they whisper, voice husky and eyes dark, like they’ve been holding it in forever.

🌀 you’re both tipsy at a wedding, swaying to the music. they lean in, voice almost drowned out by the noise, “i’ve been in love with you since that one time you spilled coffee on me.” you laugh it off, thinking it’s a joke, only to find them staring at you with a seriousness that steals your breath away.

🌀 it’s a text sent by mistake - meant for someone else, but sent to you. “i can’t keep pretending i don’t have feelings for them anymore. they’re everything i’ve ever wanted.” when you confront them, they go pale, realizing the confession was about you all along.

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lilmisssona · 1 month ago

Text

*ੈ✩Sorry Bestie, I love you *ੈ✩

*ੈ✩Pairing - Han Jisung × Fem Reader

*ੈ✩Plot - After being stood up for the fifth time this year, you've had enough of serial date ghosting. Just when you were about to leave, your best friend Han, whom you vented to , texts back saying to wait because he's coming to meet you. But Han left for another city eight years ago and when he shows up, you're shocked to see your quirky best has turned into someone undeniably hot!

*ੈ✩Genre - Angst, comedy, fluff

*ੈ✩Warnings - Dramatic comedic duo, non idol au, best friends to lovers au, angst, hurt to comfort

*ੈ✩Word Count - 10.7 K *ੈ✩Screenshot Count - 4

*ੈ✩A/N - Episode 5 of Staymas is here! This best friends-to-lovers tale will have you laughing, crying, and dreaming. Dive into this heartwarming and classic tale, albeit a little cliché! you won’t want to miss it! ( This is just slightly proofread so apologies for any mistakes 🙂‍↕️ )

*ੈ✩ SKZ Masterlist *ੈ✩ STAYMAS Masterlist

The candle flickers, the breeze teasing its flame. You try not to look at the empty chair across from you, but it’s impossible to ignore. Five times this year. A record, really. Maybe it’s time to quit dating altogether.

You grab your bag to leave, but your phone buzzes on the table. Glancing at the screen, you see his name....

You frown at the screen. Typical Jisung...cryptic, over-the-top, dramatic. Your fingers hover over the keyboard, debating whether to humor him. But something about his insistence makes you hesitate.

After waiting 20 minutes you were about to respond when the café door swings open. The sound barely registers...it’s a busy place, after all...but then you see him.

And for a moment, your brain stalls.

There he is: Han Jisung.

But not the Jisung you remember - the nerdy kid with mismatched socks and perpetually broken earbuds. No, this version of Jisung looks… different. Sharper. His jawline catches the soft glow of the café lights, and his tailored jacket makes him look almost regal.

When his eyes meet yours, he grins, the same mischievous spark lighting his face. “Hey,” he says, sliding into the seat across from you. “Sorry I’m late.”

“Jisung,” you manage, your voice barely above a whisper. “What are you doing here? You live miles away in Busan!”

“I moved back to Seoul months ago,” he says casually, leaning back. “Didn’t I tell you?”

“No!”

“Oops,” he says unapologetically. “Anyway, I couldn’t let you sit here alone. You deserve better than some no-show loser.”

You stare at him, still trying to process. “You’re unbelievable.”

“I know. That’s why you love me.”

You roll your eyes, but your lips twitch upward despite yourself. “You’re insufferable.”

“And yet, here I am,” he replies, his tone light but his gaze warm.

“Why, Ji? You didn’t teleport just to crash my pity party.”

Jisung leans forward, a smirk playing on his lips. “When my best friend texts saying their night sucks, I can’t not show up. Besides,” he adds with a mock whisper, “it’s been too long since I’ve played knight in shining armor.”

You snort, trying to ignore the way your heart skips at his words. “If you’re the knight, I’m doomed. What’s your grand plan? Order dessert and roast my date?”

“First, dessert is mandatory. Second, roasting is a given. But I was thinking bigger.”

You arch a brow. “Bigger? Like what?”

He rubs his chin in mock contemplation. “Storm their workplace and give them a lecture on human decency? Or better yet, I’ll write a diss track. Something like, ‘Ghosted Five Times, but I’m Still Fine.’”

You burst out laughing. “Please don’t. The world doesn’t need a breakup anthem about my tragic love life.”

“Too late,” he says, pretending to take notes. “Verse one: ‘Left her at the rooftop café, but she’s too hot for your games anyway.’ Instant hit.”

“Ridiculous,” you say, still laughing.

“And yet, you’re smiling,” he points out, grinning wider.

You shake your head, but the heaviness you felt earlier is fading, replaced by Jisung’s familiar warmth.

“Okay, fine,” you say, gesturing to the menu. “If you’re the hero, you’re buying dessert.”

“Done,” he says, scanning the menu. “But we’re sharing.”

“Deal. But I’m ordering the biggest slice.”

“Bold of you to assume I’d expect less.”

As the waiter approaches, you realize something...this moment, sitting here with Jisung, feels better than any date you’ve had in years.

And that thought terrifies you.

----------------------------------------------------------

The waiter sets down the slice of tiramisu, its rich layers of cream and coffee-soaked cake practically glowing under the café lights. Jisung doesn’t even wait for the plate to settle before scooping up a massive bite.

“Hey!” you protest, swatting at his hand with your fork. “We agreed to share, not for you to inhale the whole thing!”

“Sharing is caring,” he says through a mouthful, utterly unrepentant. “Besides, you said you wanted the biggest slice, not the biggest bite. Details matter.”

You roll your eyes but can’t suppress the laugh that escapes. “You’re impossible.”

“And yet, you’ve kept me around all these years.” He winks, his cheek now smudged with a bit of whipped cream.

“You’ve got something on your face, genius,” you say, pointing vaguely at his cheek.

“Here?” He swipes at the wrong side.

“No, the other side.”

“Here?” He misses again, managing to smear the whipped cream further.

“Give me that.” You grab a napkin and lean across the table to clean his cheek.

Jisung freezes, his playful grin fading as you get closer. Your hand pauses, and for a brief moment, you’re hyper-aware of how near you are. His gaze locks with yours, the teasing light in his eyes softening. The sounds of the café blur into a quiet hum, leaving only the weight of the moment.

Then, just as suddenly, it’s gone.

“There,” you say, sitting back and tossing the napkin onto the table. “Crisis averted.”

“Thanks, Mom,” he teases, but his voice is gentler now, his smile smaller yet no less warm.

You look away, focusing on your fork as you take a bite of the tiramisu. The sweetness melts on your tongue, but the lingering heat of his gaze lingers heavier than the dessert.

“So,” you say, eager to steer the conversation back to safer ground, “are you going to tell me why you didn’t mention moving back to Seoul? Or were you planning to keep it a secret forever?”

He shrugs, casually taking another bite. “I wanted it to be a surprise. You know me...I live for dramatic entrances.”

“Mission accomplished,” you mutter. “I still can’t believe you’re here.”

“Believe it,” he says, leaning back and crossing his arms. “I’m not going anywhere this time.”

His words hang in the air, heavier than you expect. You glance at him, and for a moment, you see the boy he used to be...the one who chased you through the hallways, who promised nothing would ever come between you....

----------------------------------------------------------

It was a rainy Monday morning. The kind that begged you to stay under the covers and forget the world existed. But skipping class wasn’t an option when you were already on the brink of being dropped for "excessive tardiness." So, there you were, sprinting through the maze of your university’s sprawling campus, clutching your bag to your chest and praying you’d slip into the lecture hall unnoticed.

As you rounded a corner, moving far too quickly for the slippery tile floor, disaster struck. You slammed straight into something— or someone. The impact sent you staggering, and before you could process what had happened, books, papers, and color-coded notes exploded into the air, raining down like confetti in a very unfortunate parade.

“Oh my God! I’m so sorry!” you blurted, dropping to your knees to gather the mess. Your heart was pounding from the sprint...and now from the mortification. So much for keeping a low profile.

“It’s fine,” came a calm, slightly irritated voice.

Looking up, you froze. Of all people, it had to be Han Jisung, the department’s golden boy. His reputation as a straight-A student was almost mythical, the kind of person who turned in assignments early and still managed to ace everything. Even now, in the chaos, he looked annoyingly put together. His navy sweater was pristine, his hair somehow immune to the rain outside, and his expression was a mix of disbelief and mild exasperation.

“Maybe,” he said, crouching down to gather his notes, “you should slow down next time.”

“Right. Slow down. Got it,” you muttered, cheeks burning as you handed him a stack of papers. “I wasn’t looking where I was going. Sorry again.”

His eyebrows lifted slightly, his gaze flicking to yours. “Thanks. Wait… do I know you?”

“You should,” you said before you could stop yourself. “I’m the one who almost blew up the chemistry lab during first-year practicals.”

Recognition flickered in his eyes, followed by amusement. “Oh. You’re that person.”

You grinned sheepishly. “The one and only. In my defense, the safety instructions were... vague.”

“That’s a generous interpretation,” he said, the corner of his mouth twitching upward as he resumed organizing his notes with practiced precision.

“And you’re Han Jisung,” you added, as though it wasn’t obvious. “Everyone knows you. You’re basically the poster child for academic perfection.”

“And you’re the one who thought shaking the vending machine would make it dispense two drinks at once,” he countered, his tone dry but laced with humor.

“That worked,” you retorted, smiling. “It just wasn’t worth the bruises.”

To your surprise, he laughed, an unguarded, genuine laugh that softened his polished exterior. For a moment, the intimidating image of Han Jisung melted away, replaced by someone far more approachable.

“Here,” he said, standing and offering you his hand. His grip was steady as he pulled you to your feet. “Are you okay?”

“Yeah, just my pride’s a little bruised,” you admitted, brushing off your jeans.

“Well,” he said, smirking, “maybe next time, your pride should walk a little slower.”

You laughed, the last of your embarrassment fading. “Duly noted, Han Jisung.”

He tilted his head, his curiosity evident. “You didn’t tell me your name.”

“Y/N,” you said, holding out your hand, which he shook with a small, genuine smile.

“Nice to meet you, Y/N. Try to stay out of trouble, okay?”

“Where’s the fun in that?” you quipped, grinning as you slung your bag over your shoulder.

He shook his head, an amused glint in his eye as he collected his books and turned to leave. “See you around,” he said over his shoulder.

And as you watched him walk away - posture perfect, demeanor unshaken despite the chaos...you couldn’t help but smile. Something told you this wouldn’t be the last time your paths crossed.

You had no idea then just how much he’d come to mean to you...or how much trouble the two of you would get into together.

----------------------------------------------------------

The first time Han Jisung saved you, you were knee-deep in a mess entirely of your own making. It had started innocently enough - just another one of your “brilliant” ideas. You’d overheard someone mention that the campus auditorium boasted the best sound system in the city, and naturally, your curiosity had gotten the better of you. The only hitch? You decided to “borrow” a key from the janitor’s office to test the claim.

Your plan seemed foolproof: sneak in, connect your playlist, and revel in the sheer glory of bass that could rattle the walls. What could possibly go wrong? Well, as it turned out, everything.

Barely ten minutes into your impromptu concert, the auditorium doors swung open, revealing a very unimpressed campus security officer.

“Who gave you permission to be here?” the officer demanded, his glare sharp enough to slice through steel.

Panic flooded your chest as you fumbled for an explanation. “I, uh… I was just...”

“Just what? Trespassing and breaking into campus property?”

The scolding was bad enough, but the real horror was the thought of being reported. With your already shaky academic record, one more misstep could mean suspension, or worse. As your mind raced for an excuse, a calm, steady voice cut through the tension.

“Actually, it was my fault,” said Han Jisung, striding into the room with a confidence you didn’t know he possessed.

You blinked at him in shock. Jisung, of all people? What was he doing here?

“And who are you?” the officer asked, narrowing his eyes.

“Han Jisung,” he said smoothly, as if his name alone carried authority. “I’m a student council representative. I was supposed to meet Y/N here to help set up the sound system for a presentation.”

Your jaw practically hit the floor. Presentation? Meeting? What on earth was Jisung talking about?

The officer frowned, unconvinced. “This doesn’t look like a presentation.”

“We were testing the system before the meeting,” Jisung explained with unnerving ease. His tone was so measured, so convincing, that even you almost believed him. “I take full responsibility for not getting prior approval from the administration. It won’t happen again.”

The officer eyed him for a moment longer, then sighed. “Fine. But if I catch either of you here without permission again, there will be consequences.”

“Yes, sir. Understood,” Jisung said, bowing slightly as the officer turned and left.

As soon as the door clicked shut, you turned to him, still reeling. “What the hell was that?”

“I could ask you the same thing,” Jisung retorted, arms crossed. “Breaking into the auditorium? Really?”

“I wasn’t breaking in! I just… borrowed the key,” you mumbled defensively.

“And you thought no one would notice?” He raised an eyebrow, unimpressed.

You opened your mouth to argue but quickly shut it. He wasn’t wrong. “Fine. It was stupid. But why’d you cover for me?”

Jisung let out a sigh, running a hand through his hair. “Because I didn’t want you to get in trouble. Again. Do you have any idea how close you are to being put on academic probation?”

Your eyes widened. “Wait! you keep track of my academic record?”

“It’s hard not to when you’re constantly finding new ways to get into trouble,” he muttered, though his tone was more exasperated than angry. “Seriously, Y/N, you need to be more careful.”

A strange mix of gratitude and embarrassment settled in your chest. “Thanks,” you said softly, looking at him with newfound appreciation.

“Don’t mention it,” he replied, his expression softening. “Just… maybe think things through next time?”

You grinned despite yourself. “What, and miss out on all the fun?”

Jisung groaned, shaking his head. “You’re impossible.”

“Maybe,” you teased, nudging him lightly. “But admit it...you wouldn’t have me any other way.”

He didn’t answer right away, but the faint smile tugging at his lips said more than words ever could.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was like an unpredictable storm meeting a steady anchor. Where you brought chaos, wild and unapologetic, he brought calm and quiet resilience. Yet somehow, the two of you balanced each other, your mismatched escapades weaving an unlikely but unshakable bond.

----------------------------------------------------------

Take the time you convinced Han Jisung to sneak into the art department’s studio with you. Rumor had it that the seniors had painted a massive mural on the back wall, and you just had to see it before the official unveiling.

“This is such a bad idea,” Jisung muttered, trailing behind you through the dimly lit hallway.

“You say that every time,” you whispered back, stifling a grin as you jiggled the door handle. “And yet, here you are.”

“Only because someone has to make sure you don’t get caught,” he shot back, crossing his arms.

“Relax, it’s just a mural. No one’s going to....”

The sound of footsteps echoed down the hallway, cutting off your reassurance. Your heart leaped into your throat as you instinctively grabbed Jisung’s arm and dragged him behind a stack of easels. The two of you crouched low, pressed shoulder to shoulder, holding your breath.

“I hate this,” he hissed, his voice barely audible.

“You love this,” you whispered, unable to suppress the mischievous smile spreading across your face.

When the footsteps finally receded, leaving the hallway silent once more, you turned toward Jisung, your faces just inches apart. For a brief moment, the world seemed to hold its breath. You could feel the warmth of his skin, the rise and fall of his chest, and the way his eyes searched yours, as if questioning what on earth he was doing here with you.

“Let’s just go,” he muttered, breaking the spell as he stood up and dusted himself off.

The mural, when you finally laid eyes on it, was breathtaking: a kaleidoscope of colors and intricate details that left you momentarily speechless. But the real highlight of the night wasn’t the art. It was Jisung’s deadpan commentary as he gestured toward the wall with exaggerated disbelief.

“You risked getting us expelled for this?” he asked, his tone dripping with mock indignation.

“It’s called appreciating art,” you replied, snapping a photo with your phone. “You should try it sometime.”

“Next time, let’s just visit a museum like normal people,” he said, shaking his head. But the small smile tugging at the corners of his lips betrayed him.

Your friendship with Han Jisung was a rollercoaster of shenanigans and shared moments that made life vibrant and unpredictable. The two of you were a duo nobody quite understood — him, the straight-laced, diligent student with his color-coded notes and perfectly maintained schedule, and you, the chaotic whirlwind who somehow managed to stumble your way through life with charm and luck.

Whether it was sneaking into the art department to see hidden murals or convincing him to ditch a study session for a midnight run to the nearest convenience store, you were always dragging Jisung into your world of playful mayhem.

And the most surprising part? He let you. He’d complain endlessly...“Y/N, this is the last time I’m letting you drag me into one of your dumb plans...,” But he’d always follow.

But your fun and games came to a crashing halt one fateful afternoon when reality smacked you in the face.

It started innocently enough. You and Jisung were sitting on the grass in the quad, eating snacks after one of your shared classes. He had a notebook balanced on his knee, going over notes while you dramatically recounted your latest “battle” with your statistics professor.

“Y/N, you can’t keep ignoring deadlines,” Jisung said, laughing as he stole one of your chips. “At some point, it’s going to catch up with you.”

“It’s fine,” you said breezily, leaning back and looking at the sky. “I always figure it out in the end.”

But you didn’t.

The next week, the results of your midterm exams came out, and the sinking feeling in your stomach as you saw your grades was undeniable. You were failing. And not just in one class;several.

You didn’t want to tell Jisung. Admitting it felt like admitting defeat, like proving to him that you were the chaotic mess everyone thought you were. But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things slide.

When he saw you sitting alone in the library, looking dejected, he plopped down across from you with his usual confident grin. “Alright, what’s up? And don’t even think about saying ‘nothing.’”

You sighed, burying your face in your hands. “I’m failing, Jisung.”

He blinked, momentarily surprised. “Failing what?”

“Exams,” you mumbled.

“Right, you're failing. I know."

"You know?" you asked, shocked.

"You bombed the last three quizzes, skipped half the study sessions, and I saw you playing games on your laptop during class last week,” he interrupted, his tone leaving no room for argument. “If you keep this up, you’re not going to pass the finals.”

You scoffed, running a hand through your hair. “Rubbing salt in the wound, much? Okay, I get it. I'm a horrible person… I don’t know how to fix it.”

“That’s what I’m here for,” he said, his expression softening. “We’re going to fix this. Together.”

And just like that, he took charge. Over the next few months, Jisung practically became your shadow. He made you a study schedule, sat with you during every session, and patiently explained concepts you didn’t understand.

“Focus, Y/N,” he’d say when he caught you doodling in the margins of your notes.

“You’re like an annoying older brother,” you grumbled one evening as he forced you to redo a particularly difficult essay for the fifth time.

“Older?” he repeated, raising an eyebrow. “I’m literally younger than you.”

“Then stop acting like my dad,” you shot back, sticking your tongue out at him.

“You’re lucky I don’t charge for all this,” he’d mutter, shaking his head but unable to hide his fond smile.

Despite the grueling sessions, you couldn’t deny that it was working. And as the exams approached, you felt something you hadn’t felt in a long time: hope.

The day the results were posted, you practically sprinted to the bulletin board, your heart pounding in your chest. Jisung followed behind, a calm presence as always.

When you saw your grades, you let out a gasp. “I passed!”

Jisung grinned, clapping you on the back. “See? I told you you could do it.”

You turned to him, your eyes shining. “I couldn’t have done it without you, Jisung. Seriously, thank you.”

He shrugged, but the smile on his face was genuine. “What are best friends for?”

And that was the moment you realized, once again, just how much he meant to you. He wasn’t just your partner in crime or your study buddy. He was your anchor, your constant, your safe place in the chaos of life.

----------------------------------------------------------

Next semester arrived before you knew it, sweeping you into a whirlwind of assignments, deadlines, and late-night cramming sessions. Somewhere amid the chaos of library study marathons and the steady comfort of early-morning pep talks, it hit you...you were falling for Han Jisung. It wasn’t the kind of love that blindsided you in a single moment, the way romance novels and movies often describe. No, this was different. It was a quiet realization, like the way dawn gradually paints the sky with soft, golden hues. Subtle, unassuming, but impossible to ignore once you noticed it.

You found yourself searching for his laugh in crowded rooms, a sound so infectious it felt like sunlight breaking through the darkest clouds. The way his eyes crinkled at the corners when he smiled became something you looked forward to, a little beacon of joy in your long, exhausting days. Then there was the way he pushed his hair back when he was concentrating, his brow furrowing slightly as if he were trying to solve the mysteries of the universe. It was such a small thing, but it made your heart skip every time.

And it wasn’t just the way he made you feel; it was the way he cared for you, in a way no one else ever had. He had this way of noticing things about you...things you didn’t even realize you were doing. Like how he’d remind you to eat when you got too caught up in your work or how he’d send you a text late at night, a simple “You’ve got this” that somehow made everything feel a little more manageable. His care wasn’t loud or overbearing; it was steady and unshakable, like a constant undercurrent that you could always count on.

You didn’t know exactly when it started...when his presence began to mean more than just friendship. Maybe it was during one of those late-night library sessions when he stayed up with you until dawn, helping you with a paper even though he didn’t have to. Maybe it was the way he looked at you, his gaze soft and full of something you couldn’t quite name. Or maybe it was simply everything...every moment, every laugh, every small, thoughtful gesture adding up until your heart couldn’t hold it all anymore.

But falling for him was as terrifying as it was beautiful. Because as much as you wanted to believe there was something more between you, you couldn’t ignore the fear—the fear that acknowledging your feelings would change everything, that crossing that line might mean losing him entirely. So you kept it to yourself, letting your feelings grow quietly in the corners of your heart, where they were safe but painfully unspoken.

Instead of confessing, you did what you thought would save you from heartbreak: burying your feelings and making a choice that felt like the only escape at the time. You started dating someone else.

At first, it seemed like a solution, a distraction from the ache that tightened your chest every time Jisung’s warm smile was directed at you. Your new relationship kept you busy, giving you something else to focus on. But it didn’t take long for cracks to appear, tiny fractures that grew wider with every passing day. Your partner turned out to be toxic: controlling, dismissive, and quick to belittle you for things you couldn’t control. Every disagreement became a battle, every moment together felt like walking on eggshells.

And, of course, Jisung noticed. He always noticed.

“Y/N,” he said softly one evening, his voice cutting through the suffocating silence of your apartment. He was sitting beside you on the couch after you’d had yet another argument with your partner, your eyes red and tired from holding back tears. “You don’t have to put up with this.”

You shrugged, keeping your gaze fixed on your hands. “It’s not as bad as it seems.”

His hand reached out, brushing against yours as his voice took on a firmness that was rare for him. “It is that bad. You deserve better than this. So much better.”

You looked up at him then, his expression both gentle and resolute, and something in your chest cracked open. His words felt like a lifeline, a reminder of the person you used to be....the person you wanted to be again. Still, you didn’t act immediately. Breaking up was messy, painful, and terrifying. But Jisung’s unwavering support gave you strength.

When the breakup finally happened, it unraveled everything. The aftermath was raw, leaving you emotionally drained and questioning everything. You called Jisung in the middle of the night, your voice shaking as you choked out his name. And, like always, he showed up. No questions, no hesitation. He simply came.

He didn’t try to fix you or tell you to move on. He just sat with you, his arms wrapped around you as you cried, his presence grounding you in a way no one else’s could. His quiet reassurances weren’t grand declarations, but they were exactly what you needed: I’m here. You’re not alone.

And that was when you knew. You couldn’t keep pretending anymore. You couldn’t keep denying that he wasn’t just your best friend. That every time he laughed, your heart skipped. That he wasn’t the person you wanted beside you...not just in moments of crisis, but always.

It was terrifying to think about confessing. But the thought of losing him? That was even worse. So you made up your mind. You would tell him how you felt, even if it risked everything.

But reality always has other plans....

----------------------------------------------------------

“Earth to Y/N,” Jisung’s voice pulled you out of your spiraling thoughts. His hand waved in front of your face, his tone laced with gentle teasing. “Are you okay?”

You blinked, your surroundings coming back into focus. His face was mere inches from yours, his brows furrowed with concern. He looked at you the way he always did, as though he could see every unspoken thought you were too afraid to share.

“Yeah,” you lied, your voice coming out shaky. “I’m fine. Just… thinking.”

“Thinking about what?” His curiosity was genuine, his head tilting slightly as he studied you.

Your fingers tightened around your coffee cup, your heart hammering in your chest. What could you say? That you were thinking about how much you missed him? About how every moment with him only made it harder to keep your feelings hidden? About how terrifying it was to sit across from him, knowing your heart was an open wound he couldn’t see?

“Just... reminiscing,” you said finally, forcing a smile that you hoped hid the turmoil inside. “About how you’ve always had my back. You’ve saved me more times than I can count.”

He grinned, the corners of his eyes crinkling in that way that never failed to make your stomach flip. “What can I say? Someone’s gotta keep you out of trouble.”

You laughed, but it felt hollow, the weight of your unsaid confession pressing down on you. You couldn’t help but notice the way the evening light softened his features, the way he looked at you like you were the only person in the world who mattered. And yet, you couldn’t bring yourself to say what you really wanted to.

As the conversation drifted to lighter topics, you found yourself stealing glances at him, memorizing every detail of his face, every inflection of his voice. The thought that you might never be brave enough to tell him how you felt was unbearable.

And when he walked you home that night, his presence warm and steady beside you, you almost stopped him. Almost turned to him and let the words tumble out. But fear held you back...the fear of ruining what you already had, the fear that he didn’t feel the same.

As you stood outside your apartment building, Jisung smiled softly, his hands buried in his coat pockets. “Goodnight, Y/N.”

“Goodnight,” you whispered, watching him walk away.

You stayed there long after he was gone, the city’s lights blurring in your vision as tears pricked your eyes. Because no matter how much you told yourself it was better this way, your heart knew the truth.

You closed the door behind you, the sound of it slamming shut echoing in the otherwise silent apartment. Leaning against the door, you let out a breath, one you hadn’t even realized you’d been holding. Your chest still felt tight, and your heart raced uncontrollably,not from the cold night air that still clung to you, but from everything that had just transpired.

Best friends

That’s all you were to him, and that’s all you’d ever be. The bitter thought made your stomach twist as you dropped your bag carelessly onto the floor.

With each step that led you to your bedroom, the weight of it all pressed down on you. You peeled off your jacket, tossing it onto the chair in the corner, not bothering to hang it up. The soft glow from the city lights filtered through your curtains, casting delicate, fleeting patterns on the walls. You climbed into bed, the comforter enveloping you like a fragile shield. But no amount of warmth could ease the ache that gnawed at your heart.

Your mind, however, had other plans. It dragged you back, back to that cold Valentine’s Day years ago, when you’d finally decided to take the plunge, to confess, to reveal the feelings you’d kept hidden for far too long.

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been one of those early February mornings, the kind where your breath hung in the air in little clouds of mist, and the campus pathways were slick from the melting frost. You’d spent weeks wrestling with the idea, turning it over in your mind like a stone you couldn’t get rid of. Every shared laugh, every teasing nudge from Jisung, every late-night text that made your heart flutter, each small moment had added weight to the growing realization that you couldn’t ignore your feelings anymore.

Today’s the day, you told yourself. The words echoed in your mind like a mantra, but they didn’t feel as comforting as they should have. You couldn’t keep pretending to be his best friend, not when your heart longed for something more.

You had prepared for this moment, rehearsing your confession in front of the mirror over and over. It wasn’t going to be grand or dramatic, just honest, just the truth of how much he meant to you. It was going to be simple: "Jisung, I need to tell you something. I think I’m in love with you."

But just as you’d gathered the courage to leave your dorm, your phone buzzed. A call from Nari, a friend of yours since freshman year.

"Hey, can we talk? Meet me at the campus café around noon. It’s important."

Your heart skipped a beat. What could Nari possibly want to talk about? You didn’t think much of it at first. Nari was the kind of person who always seemed to know when something was off, and she had a way of making you feel like everything would be okay, even when it wasn’t. Maybe she’d guessed how you felt about Jisung and wanted to give you some advice—something to help ease the burden you’d carried for so long.

You agreed to meet her, nervous energy coursing through you. You picked out a small rose for Jisung, the perfect shade of red, and made your way to the café. When you arrived, Nari was already there, absentmindedly stirring a cup of tea. She looked up when she saw you, offering a smile, but it was the kind of smile that didn’t quite reach her eyes.

"Hey," she greeted, her voice light but hesitant. "Thanks for meeting me."

"Of course," you replied, trying to sound steady despite the nervous flutter in your chest. "What’s up?"

Nari hesitated, her gaze flickering to the rose in your hand before meeting your eyes again. She took a deep breath, and you could tell something was weighing heavily on her.

"I wanted to talk to you about something... something important," she said, her voice quieter now, more serious.

Your stomach tightened with unease. "Okay?"

She fiddled with the edge of her sleeve, taking a moment before continuing. "I know how close you and Jisung are. And... I’ve noticed how you look at him."

Your cheeks flushed with heat, a wave of panic crashing over you. "W-What do you mean?" you stammered, unsure of what she was getting at.

"You like him, don’t you?" she asked gently, her voice almost apologetic, as if she already knew the answer.

You froze. There was no point denying it. Not when she’d already seen straight through you. The truth hung in the air between you, heavy and undeniable. You nodded slowly, the grip on the rose tightening as you spoke. "Yeah. I do."

Nari bit her lip, her expression softening with sympathy. "I figured. That’s why I thought I should tell you before you... before you do anything." She trailed off, clearly struggling to find the right words.

Your heart dropped into your stomach. "What about you and Jisung?" you asked, your voice barely more than a whisper.

Nari shifted in her seat, her eyes avoiding yours for a moment. Then, slowly, she met your gaze again, her expression filled with something that looked like guilt.

"We’ve been seeing each other," she said, her voice small but resolute. "For a little while now."

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the wind out of you. You blinked, trying to process what she had just said. This couldn’t be real. Jisung hadn’t said anything...nothing about her, nothing about being with anyone.

"You’re... together?" you asked, barely able to form the words.

Nari nodded, her face etched with a kind of remorse. "It’s still new," she said quietly, "but I thought it was better to tell you now. I didn’t want you to find out in a way that would hurt more."

Hurt. The irony of her words felt like salt in the wound. You couldn’t breathe, couldn’t think. The rose in your hand suddenly felt like a cruel joke, its vibrant petals mocking you. The confession you’d been building up for so long, the one you’d been so certain of, had just become meaningless.

"I’m sorry," Nari said softly, her voice laced with sincerity. "I didn’t mean for this to happen. But... I really care about him."

You swallowed, forcing yourself to smile, even though it felt like it would tear you apart. "It’s fine," you said, though the words felt hollow. "Really."

But it wasn’t fine. Not at all.

The rest of the conversation blurred as she went on about how happy Jisung made her, about how she never expected this to happen, but how she had to be honest with you. Every word felt like a knife twisting deeper, but you held it together, nodding at the right times, forcing yourself to listen.

When you finally left the café, you didn’t even look back. The rose you’d clutched in your hand found its way into the nearest trash can, the delicate petals crushed under your trembling fingers, a symbol of everything you could never have.

---------------------------------------------------------

A few weeks after Valentine’s Day, life had settled into an uneasy rhythm. You buried your feelings deeper than ever, convincing yourself that it was better this way. You were still Jisung’s best friend, the one he turned to when he needed to laugh, vent, or just be himself. But each moment spent with him was a bittersweet reminder of what you could never have, an ache that lingered, stubborn and relentless.

Then, one evening, your phone buzzed with a call from him, Jisung.

“Hey, can we talk? There’s something I need to tell you.”

Your stomach flipped, unease settling over you like a heavy weight. His tone was more serious than usual, sending a chill through your body. Was he about to bring up what you had been trying so hard to bury? You hesitated, but finally replied, your heart pounding.

“Of course. What’s up?”

“Let’s meet on the rooftop of campus. I’ll be there in 20.”

A knot tightened in your stomach as you agreed.

The rooftop -yours and his safe place. It was the space where you had shared confessions, secrets, things that shouldn’t be seen by the world. You both had always come here to escape, to be yourselves away from prying eyes.

You arrived early, anxiety crawling up your spine with every step. The campus was eerily quiet at night, and you slipped through the building’s doors, heading up to the rooftop. The familiar view of the city lights was comforting, but tonight, it couldn’t settle your nerves.

When Jisung arrived, he was different. His playful grin was absent, replaced by a serious expression. His eyes, usually filled with warmth and mischief, held a weight you hadn’t seen before. Your chest tightened at the sight.

“Hey,” you greeted, forcing a smile that felt like a mask, as you turned to face him.

“Hey,” he replied, his voice unusually soft. He didn’t meet your gaze immediately, instead fiddling nervously with the hem of his hoodie sleeves...a habit you knew well.

“Everything okay?” you asked, trying to keep your tone light, even though your heart felt like it was going to explode.

He took a deep breath before lifting his gaze to meet yours. His eyes were steady, but there was something burdened in them, something he hadn’t said yet.

“I’ve been thinking about this for a while, and... I didn’t know how to tell you. But I have to.”

Your heart sank, the weight of his words sinking in before you could even process them. What was ge about to tell you ? That he and Nari were becoming serious? That he didn’t want to stay friends anymore?

“I’m leaving Seoul,” he said, his voice quiet but firm.

The words hit you like a physical blow, knocking the air from your lungs. “What?”

“I got accepted into a music program in Busan,” he explained, his hands clenching into fists. “It’s an incredible opportunity, like a dream come true. But it means... I have to leave.”

Your mind went blank, your body feeling like it was trapped in quicksand. Jisung had always talked about his passion for music, about creating something that meant something. You were proud of him, truly, but the thought of him leaving, of him being so far away, was unbearable.

“When?” you managed to ask, your voice barely a whisper.

“In a week,” he said, his eyes searching yours, looking for understanding. “I didn’t want to tell you until everything was finalized. I just... I couldn’t leave without saying goodbye.”

Your chest tightened as tears pricked at the corners of your eyes. You looked away, staring blankly at the city below. “A week? That’s... so soon.”

“I know,” he said, his voice tinged with regret. “But it’s something I have to do. You understand that, right?”

You nodded, forcing the lump in your throat down, even though your heart was breaking. “Yeah, of course. It’s your dream. You’d be crazy not to go.”

The rest of the evening passed in a blur. Jisung talked about the program, his excitement and nervousness spilling over as he shared every detail. You listened, offered words of encouragement, even joked with him to lighten the mood. But as soon as you were alone, everything you had been holding back came crashing down.

----------------------------------------------------------

The week passed in a blur, each day bringing you closer to the inevitable. And then, it was the day of his departure.

You met him at the train station, your chest heavy with the weight of goodbye. He was standing there, his suitcases at his feet, hoodie pulled up against the chill of the early morning. The finality of the moment was suffocating, the space between you growing with each passing second.

“Hey,” he said softly, his voice low as you approached.

“Hey,” you replied, forcing a smile that felt like it might shatter any second.

Neither of you spoke right away, the sound of the bustling station drowning out the silence that hung between you. Neither of you could find the words that needed to be said.

“This isn’t goodbye,” he said finally, his voice resolute, though there was a tremor of uncertainty in his eyes. “I’ll text you every day. I’ll call. We’ll stay in touch, okay?”

You nodded, the tears that had been threatening to fall finally escaping. “Yeah. We will.”

“Hey,” he said gently, stepping closer and pulling you into a hug. His arms were warm, steady, and for a brief moment, you allowed yourself to forget everything else. You breathed in deeply, memorizing the way he felt, the way his heartbeat synced with yours.

“You’re going to be okay,” he whispered, his chin resting on top of your head. “I promise.”

You didn’t trust yourself to speak, so you simply clung to him, unwilling to let go, as though by holding on just a little longer, you could freeze this moment in time.

When the announcement for his train came over the speakers, he pulled away, his hands lingering on your shoulders. “I’ll see you soon, okay?”

“Okay,” you whispered, wiping the tears from your cheeks.

He gave you one last smile: a small, sincere smile, before grabbing his bags and heading toward the platform. You watched him walk away, your heart breaking with every step, every inch between you and him.

As the train began to pull away, you told yourself it wasn’t the end. That you’d see him again. That things would go back to the way they were.

But deep down, you knew better. Something had changed, something unspoken, something that couldn’t be undone. And though you didn’t know what the future held, you knew one thing for sure,it could never be the same again....

---------------------------------------------------------

The sunlight poured through your window, bright and uninvited, cutting through the darkness of the room. You groaned, burying your face deeper into the pillow, desperate to escape the sharp ring of the alarm that sliced through the silence. The day ahead already felt heavy, as if the weight of the world had settled on your shoulders before it even began. The memories that had resurfaced the night before, memories you had buried for years...still clung to your mind, unrelenting and vivid. Jisung was back in your life, but the gap of eight years between you was an insurmountable distance...those unanswered questions, the unspoken truths, and the silent wishes hung between you like an invisible wall that neither of you could breach.

You dragged yourself out of bed, the grogginess still clinging to you like a second skin, your body protesting against the demands of the day. The kitchen greeted you with the comforting aroma of freshly brewed coffee, the scent wrapping around you like a brief respite from the chaos swirling inside your mind. You leaned against the counter, staring blankly out the window, watching the familiar morning rush of Seoul. People hurried past, weaving in and out of the crowded streets with practiced precision, their steps as frantic as your thoughts. The city felt different now, with Jisung back in it. Or maybe it was you who felt different...changed by the weight of the years that had passed and the memories that refused to stay buried.

It had been weeks since that fateful café meeting....the first time you had seen him again after so many years of silence. Since then, you and Jisung had slipped into an almost familiar rhythm, as though time had somehow softened the sharp edges of the past. Late-night texts, spontaneous meetups, shared laughter, it all seemed to flow with ease, as though no time had passed at all. But beneath the surface of every smile, every joke, every touch, there was something deeper—a shadow of the past, a lingering ache, a question that neither of you dared to ask. The years apart, the buried feelings, and the uncertainty of where you stood now,all of it hovered between you, a constant presence neither of you could escape.

You had resolved, at least for the time being, to keep things light. To avoid venturing into territory that might reopen old wounds. After all, wasn't it better to just be his friend than risk losing him altogether? The logic made sense, the choice seemed rational. But your heart, stubborn as always, refused to follow any kind of logic. It ached for him in ways you couldn’t control, pulling you in directions you weren’t ready to go. No matter how hard you tried to push the feelings down, to suppress the memories that wanted to flood back to the surface, they remained, relentless, unyielding, impossible to ignore.

And so, you stood there, staring out at the city that felt both familiar and foreign, wondering if the past was something you could ever truly outrun...

----------------------------------------------------------

That afternoon, you found yourself standing in front of the same café where everything had started—where you’d seen Jisung for the first time in eight long years. But today, it wasn’t a chance encounter. This meeting had a purpose, planned and initiated by him.

Jisung’s call from the morning had been simple and vague, yet it had thrown you off balance:

“Let’s grab lunch? I’ve got a surprise for you.”

A surprise. With Jisung, that could mean anything...something small and silly, or something that could shift the ground beneath your feet. Either way, your heart had been racing ever since.

Pushing open the door to the café, the familiar chime of the bell above welcomed you. Your eyes scanned the room until they landed on him. He was already at your usual table by the window, waving at you with that familiar boyish grin. His hair was slightly messy, the sleeves of his shirt rolled up casually, and he looked so at ease, so natural, that it was almost enough to lull you into believing nothing had changed.

“Hey, you’re early,” you said as you slid into the seat across from him, feigning nonchalance to hide the way your pulse quickened at the sight of him.

“Rare moment of responsibility,” he quipped, setting his phone down on the table. “Don’t get used to it.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “I wasn’t planning to.”

As the waitress came to take your order, you couldn’t help but sneak glances at him, trying to read the mood. There was a sparkle in his eyes, an almost childlike excitement, and you couldn’t help but feel curious and maybe a little nervous.

“So,” you started once the waitress left, “are you going to tell me what this surprise is, or are you just going to keep me guessing?”

Jisung leaned back in his chair, his grin widening. “Patience. Let’s eat first.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but played along. Lunch passed in a blur of conversation and laughter. He told you about his time in Busan, the struggles of chasing his dreams, the doubts that crept in on sleepless nights, and the small moments of triumph that kept him going. You shared stories of Seoul, talking about everything from the daily grind to the little changes in the city he used to know so well.

There was something comforting about it all, like slipping into a well-worn rhythm. But beneath the surface of your laughter and casual conversation was the unspoken truth, the questions, the what-ifs, the emotions that threatened to rise to the surface with every shared glance.

As the meal drew to a close, your patience finally snapped.

“Alright, spill it,” you said, leaning forward, your curiosity getting the better of you. “What’s the big surprise?”

Jisung’s grin turned sheepish as he reached into his bag, pulling out a small, neatly wrapped package. He held it out to you with an almost nervous energy.

“It’s nothing huge,” he said, his voice softening. “But I saw this and thought of you.”

You blinked, staring at the package in his hands. “You didn’t have to....”

“Just open it,” he interrupted, his eyes alight with anticipation.

You hesitated only for a moment before carefully peeling away the wrapping. What you revealed made your breath catch. It was a leather-bound notebook, beautifully embossed with intricate designs. But it wasn’t just the notebook that made your heart stumble.

As you opened it, the first few pages revealed doodles, small, playful sketches that were unmistakably his. Interspersed with the doodles were notes, scribbled in his familiar handwriting, filled with inside jokes and tiny fragments of your shared past. Flipping further, you found photos tucked between pages, memories you had long forgotten brought back to life in vivid detail.

“Is this…?” you murmured, your voice trailing off as your fingers skimmed over the pages, taking in every detail.

“It’s kind of like a scrapbook,” Jisung explained, rubbing the back of his neck. “I found some of our old stuff while unpacking and thought... I don’t know, you might like it. I started putting it together, and… yeah.”

Your fingers trembled slightly as you traced the edge of a photo - a candid shot of the two of you from college, your younger selves caught mid-laughter.

“Jisung, this is…” You looked up at him, your voice catching in your throat. “It’s amazing. Thank you.”

He smiled, the shyness in his expression softening into something warmer. “I figured it’s about time we started filling in the gaps, you know? From all those years apart.”

You nodded, unable to speak past the lump in your throat. “Yeah. It’s perfect.”

But as you stared down at the notebook again, a bittersweet ache filled your chest. Every page, every sketch, every photo spoke of a connection you cherished. Yet they also served as a reminder of everything you couldn’t have. For all the love and care that had gone into this gift, for all the memories it brought back, there was one truth that hung in the air, unspoken and unchangeable.

Jisung didn’t feel the same way about you.

And no amount of shared nostalgia could rewrite that fact...

Later, as he walked you home, the air between you was filled with the kind of easy conversation that came naturally with him, light-hearted jokes, shared laughter, and fleeting glances that felt like secrets. It was almost as if the years apart hadn’t happened, as if the weight of the past had somehow dissolved in the rhythm of your steps. For a fleeting moment, it felt like old times.

His presence beside you was a quiet comfort, grounding you in a way you hadn’t realized you’d missed. The sound of his sneakers scuffing lightly against the pavement, the soft hum of the city around you, it all felt familiar, like slipping into a favorite old sweater that had been tucked away for too long.

“Thanks again for the notebook,” you said as you reached your building, clutching the gift tightly against your chest. “Seriously, it’s the best thing I’ve gotten in… well, years.”

He turned to you, his grin widening as he shoved his hands deeper into his pockets. “You’re welcome. I’m glad you liked it.”

There was something about the way he looked at you just then, a flicker in his eyes, warm and unguarded, that made your pulse stutter. The city lights reflected faintly in his gaze, and for one impossible second, you thought you saw something there. Something deeper. Something more.

But just as quickly as it appeared, it was gone, replaced by his usual boyish charm. He smiled and took a playful step backward, rocking on his heels. “Goodnight, bestie.”

Your laugh came out soft and a little strained, the word bestie stinging in a way you hadn’t expected. It was a reminder of the line he had drawn between you, one he didn’t seem to realize you were desperate to cross.

“Goodnight, Jisung,” you replied, your voice barely above a whisper.

You stood there, watching as he walked away, his figure growing smaller with each step until he was just a shadow against the glow of the streetlights. Your chest felt heavy, the ache of unspoken words pressing against your ribs.

For a moment, the urge to stop him surged within you, stronger than ever. To call out his name, to tell him everything...

But you stopped yourself. And for the first time in years, you let yourself wonder: maybe it wasn’t about what you said or didn’t say. Maybe it was about what he felt or didn’t feel in return ?

---------------------------------------------------------

The days turned into weeks, and before you knew it, Jisung’s return to your life had started to take its toll. Spending time with him felt like walking a tightrope, balanced precariously between joy and heartache. Every laugh you shared, every inside joke that came rushing back, every moment spent together,it was everything you’d ever wanted. But it was also a cruel reminder of everything you couldn’t have.

The little things were the hardest to bear. The way his laughter still made your heart skip, the way he instinctively remembered your favorite snacks or noticed the smallest changes in your mood. The way his voice softened when he said your name, as if it was a word meant to be spoken with care. Every interaction felt like it was pulling you deeper into an emotional quicksand. No matter how much you told yourself to keep things casual, to not overthink, the feelings you’d buried years ago rose to the surface, stronger and more relentless than ever.

It was exhausting. The constant battle within yourself...the longing to be close to him and the fear of being hurt again. The more time you spent with Jisung, the clearer it became: your heart wasn’t built to endure this. Not again.

So, you did the only thing you thought might save you. You started to pull away.

At first, it was subtle. A missed text here, a vague excuse there.

When he asked to hang out, you’d claim you were busy with work or that you weren’t feeling well. You convinced yourself it was temporary, that a little distance would give you the time and space you needed to get your emotions under control.

He didn’t question it at first. When you started skipping out on coffee dates or responding to his texts hours late with apologetic emojis and half-hearted excuses, Jisung didn’t push. He let it slide, brushing it off as you being busy or caught up with work. “It happens,” he’d say with a grin, his tone light and understanding. That was just who he was, always patient, always willing to give you the space you needed.

But as the days stretched into weeks, the excuses piled up, and the distance between you became impossible to ignore. Every invitation was met with, “Maybe next time,” or, “I’ve got a lot on my plate right now.” You stopped lingering over late-night texts, stopped sharing the small details of your day that you used to send him without a second thought.

And every time you turned him down, every time you chose silence over connection, you felt the guilt clawing at you. It was suffocating, that constant push and pull between wanting to protect yourself and not wanting to hurt him. But in your mind, this was the only way. Keeping your heart intact meant keeping your distance.

Except, it wasn’t working.

Avoiding Jisung didn’t dull your feelings, it only made them sharper. Every time you ignored his text, you’d find yourself staring at your phone minutes later, wondering if he was thinking of you. Every time you saw something that reminded you of him.... a song you both loved, a stupid meme he’d laugh at, you had to fight the urge to send it to him. The more you tried to pull away, the more you missed him.

And it didn’t take long for Jisung to notice.

At first, it was subtle, small, hesitant comments when you did see him. “You’ve been really busy lately, huh?” he’d say, his tone casual but his eyes searching. You’d nod and mumble something about work, trying to avoid the way his gaze lingered on you, as if he was trying to read between the lines.

But Jisung wasn’t the type to let things go for long. One day, after you’d bailed on plans for the third time that week, he called and said something that stopped you in your tracks....

“Did I do something wrong?”

You stared at the screen, your chest tightening. The words were simple, but they carried the weight of everything you’d been trying to avoid.

“If I messed up, just tell me. I don’t want things to get weird between us.”

Weird. That’s what he thought this was, a misunderstanding, a bump in the road. He didn’t know how hard you were trying to keep your feelings buried, how every moment with him felt like walking a tightrope between happiness and heartbreak.

Your fingers hovered over the mute button, a dozen responses swirling in your mind. You wanted to tell him the truth, to spill everything you’d been holding back. But the thought of losing him, of ruining what you still had, froze you in place.

Finally, you answered back “It’s not you. I’ve just been overwhelmed with work. I’m sorry if I made you feel otherwise.”

He replied almost instantly.

“Okay. Just let me know if you need anything, yeah? I’m here.”

You let out a breath you hadn’t realized you were holding, but the relief was short-lived. Because as much as you wanted to believe that he’d buy your excuse, you could feel the doubt in his words.

And you knew, deep down, that you couldn’t keep this up forever....

----------------------------------------------------------

It had been over a month since you’d last seen him when Jisung finally confronted you. The day had been long, and you were heading home, headphones on, the city noise muffled by a soothing playlist. The sun was setting, painting the sky in soft hues of gold and pink, and you were thankful for the solitude. That was until your name cut through the air, sharp and unmistakable.

“Y/N!”

You froze, your heart sinking as you recognized his voice. Turning, you saw Jisung jogging toward you, his expression a mix of determination and something you couldn’t quite place,anger, maybe? Concern?

“Jisung,” you said, pulling out your headphones, your voice tinged with guilt.

“What’s going on?” he demanded, his tone firm but not unkind.

“What do you mean?” you replied, feigning confusion as you shifted your weight nervously.

“Don’t do that,” he said, stepping closer, his gaze piercing. “Don’t pretend like you don’t know what I’m talking about. You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. For weeks. And I want to know why."

“I haven’t been avoiding you,” you lied weakly, looking anywhere but at him.

“Really?” he said, crossing his arms. “Because it feels like I’ve been chasing a ghost. You barely respond to my texts, you cancel plans left and right and when I try to call, it goes straight to voicemail. So, tell me....what’s really going on?”

Your chest tightened, and you could feel your carefully constructed walls cracking. “I’ve been busy,” you mumbled, knowing how hollow the excuse sounded.

“Busy?” he repeated, his frustration evident. “Too busy to even say hi? Too busy to talk to someone you called your best friend?”

The word “best friend” stung, and you flinched visibly.

Jisung noticed. “What is it?” he asked, his tone softening. “Did I do something wrong?”

“No,” you said quickly, the words spilling out before you could stop them. “It’s not you. It’s...”

“Don’t,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “Don’t say it’s you, because we both know that’s not true.”

You sighed deeply, your shoulders slumping. “Can we not do this here?”

He hesitated, then gestured toward a nearby bench under a line of cherry blossom trees that had already begun to bloom, their petals swirling gently in the breeze. “Fine. Let’s talk.”

The walk to the bench felt like an eternity, and when you finally sat down, you couldn’t bring yourself to look at him.

“I can’t do this anymore,” you said at last, your voice trembling.

“Do what?” he asked, leaning closer, his brows furrowing in confusion.

“Pretend,” you whispered. “Pretend like I’m okay just being your friend when I’m not.”

He blinked, clearly taken aback. “What are you saying?”

“I’m saying…” You swallowed hard, your heart racing. “I’m saying I’ve been in love with you for years, Jisung. Since college. And I didn’t tell you because I didn’t want to ruin what we had. But then Nari...”

“Nari?” he interrupted, his confusion stark.

“Yeah, Nari,” you said, bitterness creeping into your voice. “The girl you were dating. The one who told me you weren’t interested in me, that you only saw me as a friend.”

His face shifted from confusion to disbelief. “Y/N, I don’t know who Nari is.”

Your heart skipped a beat. “What do you mean you don’t know her? She told me...”

“I don’t care what she told you,” he said, his voice firm. “It wasn’t true. I never said that. And for the record, I’ve never dated anyone named Nari.”

You stared at him, the ground beneath you seeming to shift. “But she…”

“Y/N,” he said, his voice soft but resolute, “if you’re talking about that random girl who used to hang out at our college meetups, she wasn’t even my type. She was just… there.”

Your mind reeled, the memory of Nari’s smug smile flashing in your mind. “She lied?”

“Looks like it,” he said, his tone laced with frustration. “But that’s not what matters right now.”

“What does?” you asked, your voice barely a whisper.

“You,” he said simply. “And the fact that I’ve been in love with you since college, too.”

Your eyes widened, and you felt your heart stop. “What?”

“I’m serious,” he said, leaning closer. “I thought I was being obvious back then. I always made excuses to be around you, to make you laugh, to sit next to you in every class. But you never seemed interested, so I… I let it go.”

Tears welled up in your eyes, the weight of years of misunderstandings crashing down on you. “I thought you didn’t care,” you said, your voice breaking.

And I thought you didn’t,” he replied, his hand reaching out to cover yours. “But I’m done assuming.”

He leaned closer, his gaze searching yours. “Tell me I’m not too late.”

You shook your head, tears spilling over as a laugh bubbled out of you. “You’re not too late.”

His smile was soft, tentative, as if he couldn’t quite believe this was happening. And then, slowly, he leaned in, his hand cupping your cheek as his lips met yours.

The world seemed to still, the noise of the city fading into nothing. His kiss was gentle but sure, as though he’d been waiting for this moment as long as you had. Your hands found their way to his shoulders, gripping him like he might disappear if you let go.

When he finally pulled back, his forehead rested against yours, and he let out a shaky breath. “You have no idea how long I’ve wanted to do that.”

You laughed softly, your heart feeling lighter than it had in years. “Maybe I do.”

A loud meow broke the moment, and both of you turned to see a stray cat sitting by Jisung’s feet, its wide eyes fixed on him as if demanding attention.

Jisung groaned, though his smile never wavered. “Even the cats can’t leave me alone.”

You laughed, wiping at your tears. “Maybe it’s a sign.”

“A sign of what?” he asked, his grin turning playful.

“That you’re stuck with me now,” you teased, squeezing his hand.

“Good,” he said, his voice warm and certain. “Because I wouldn’t want it any other way.”

As the two of you walked home hand in hand, the stray cat trailing behind like a self-appointed chaperone companion, you couldn’t help but smile. For the first time in a long time, everything felt right....

*ੈ✩Tags - @atinyniki @writingforstraykids @yangbbokari @theo4eve @livelovelaughmiko @silverstarburst @galaxycatdrawz @skzoologist @shua-f4lmings @iknowyouknowminho @krisstheidiot @hyunjinhoexxx @gho-ster @ezlynkisses @elmoslungcancer @b1nn1e-1s-cut3 @seungseung-minmin @cuddlylonelyperson @jeonginsleftcheek @oreoqueen @freekyfangirl

Comment your @ If you wish to be added or removed from this list ⸜(｡˃ ᵕ ˂ )⸝♡

*ੈ✩ENDNOTE - Everything Here is a work of fiction and my own imagination. This does not represent the real life characteristics of Stray Kids. Make sure to like, reblog comment, and follow me for new updates!

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tojipie · 1 year ago

Note

I'm a huge fan of your work and I would love to see a dilf!toji fan fiction where you accidentally walk in on him changing and it goes a bit further while megumi's home��🙏🙏

part 1 here

shaking crying and throwing up as the kids say

warnings: dilf!toji x reader, nsfw, almost getting caught, age gap

────────────────────────

“think that’s it for tonight.” megumi mumbles, turning the newly painted mound of clay to the side to gauge your shared work.

it goes without saying that you and your closest friend had spent the weeks leading up to the deadline planning, but not actually doing your final sculpting project, leading to an equally desperate and passive aggressive all-nighter.

you both of you were absolutely caked in paint, but the satisfaction of finally being done was well worth it. you stand up for the first time in over 4 hours, hissing at they way your back protests.

your feet tingle as blood rushes down to your legs, the aches in your body becoming more apartment.

“god, what is it— like 11?” you ask, massaging your neck with the back of your hand.

megumi grabs his phone to look at the time, scratching off a smear of dried pain with a scoff.

“it’s 1 am.” he laughs, tucking the device into his pocket with a sigh. “you ubering home or do you want my dad to take you?”

you perk up at the second option, gathering yourself before you respond.

“i mean yeah i feel like that’d be a lot safer.” you say, only half lying. “is he still up?” you knew he was up, in fact you knew if you hadn’t been practically right outside his bedroom for the past 4 hours he’d be texting you right now.

your sculpting partner motions to the kitchen door with a nod of his head, wordlessly gathering his materials up. “go check, i’m going to bed.”

you laugh, gathering your things and padding out into the hall.

“nite gumi.” you tell him, hoping it wasn’t too late in the night for the both of you to get a decent nights sleep.

———

you secretly hope toji is waiting for you as you fix your makeup in the mirror, leaning down to meticulously washing the paint from your hands and arms in an attempt to look presentable.

megumi hadn’t noticed it was you in his father’s bed the last time you snuck over, taking toji’s sly suggestion to “drive his little friend home” as an ill intended joke.

he opted to drive himself to the concert instead, accepting the ridiculous $100 venue parking fee in exchange for his peace of mind.

you, on the other hand, had gotten the opportunity to wail your lungs out as loud as you needed once the house was empty, going round-for-round with the massive wall of muscle that was your best friend’s dad.

and now, here you were in his bathroom, washing up in the sink as quickly as you could before feeding yourself to the lion.

you slip into the dark hallway as quietly as you can manage, cringing at the stale creak of the bathroom door.

the house is barely lit with the dim light from the kitchen gone. you figure megumi had shut it off before going to bed, thinking you and toji had already left.

you feel your way down the corridor of rooms, silently opening the door to your destination before stopping cold in your tracks.

“you should knock ya’know.” a deep voice crones.

you yelp as you’re pulled into his bedroom, the sound muffled by a solid hand over your mouth.

“shhhhh.” toji chuckles, caging you against the door. the older man leans down to mouth at your neck, feeling you up as you catch your breath.

“you have a real volume problem, pretty girl.” he teases.

you laugh, cradling his head as it settles in the curve of your neck. his shirt is half off already, bunched around his shoulders. you must’ve caught him changing.

“what, were you waiting on me?”

“men have needs don’t they?” he says quietly, leaning in to kiss you.

thick hands settle around the curve of your waist just under your breasts and pull you backwards, leading you towards the bed.

“was—fuck—gonna text you.” toji whispers between kisses, palming your chest underneath your shirt. the older man pulls you into his lap from where he sits on the edge of the mattress, rucking your shirt above your head to mouth at the top of your breasts.

“yeah? why didn’t you?”

“knew you’d come find me.”

your cheeks burn at his admission. he was right, as embarrassing as it was you both knew how often you found yourself under him on nights like these.

and whether or not you’d begun hanging out at megumi’s just to see his dad was a question you didn’t want to address, and one that toji already knew the answer to.

you say nothing, opting to palm the man below you through his boxers while he finally undresses his top half. toned abs clench tight as you squeeze his cock through the fabric, guided only by the small sliver of moonlight bleeding from his curtains.

“harder.” he groans, bucking into your hand.

“miss me?”

“always miss you.” toji mumbles, motioning for you to stand so he can strip you of your bottoms.

you’re pulled on top of him as soon as your shorts hit the floor, leaning in to kiss him again. the older man licks into your mouth with fervor, toying with the waistline of your thin panties.

toji breaks the kiss, snapping the elastic against your hip. you flinch at the sharp sting, whimpering into his neck as he grips your ass

“you wear these for me?” he asks.

you nod, letting him slip them off. he gives them a once over, smiling as he reaches to throw them onto the night stand.

“keeping em.” he laughs, pulling himself free from the confines of his bottoms.

he’s throbbing, steadily leaking onto his own thigh with every passing second. you lean down to accept him into your mouth, pausing when he pulls you back up to him.

“just get on top of me.” he begs, grabbing hold of the backs of your thighs and reclining into the pillows.

“need it that bad?” you ask, genuinely curious. you watch as he grabs hold of his cock, lining it up with ease—practically muscle memory.

“wouldn’t need it this bad—oh fuck— if you hadn’t been busy the entire night.” he groans, complaint interrupted by the feeling of you sinking down onto him.

“could fuck me when the sun’s out, you wouldn’t have to wait all day that way.” you suggest, only half serious.

“the only thing stopping me from doing that is work, pretty girl.” toji mumbles. you gasp as he twitches inside you, sinking down all the way to watch what little composure he still has crumble.

your knees protest as you bounce on the older man’s cock, body still sore from the workload you’d dealt with earlier.

“you could’ve just—fuck— came out and said hi.” you add, noticing the way the scar on his lip contorts when he smiles.

“can’t really walk around with a hard-on.” he admits with a sleazy grin, taking one of your breasts into his mouths for good measure.

your shared moans grow louder with every thrust, the sound of skin-on-skin becoming unmistakable.

“fuck is that noise?” a sleepy voice yells from the hallway.

you freeze. pulling away from toji to gauge his reaction.

“fuck, get underneath.” he chuckles, practically pulling you off of his cock with how easily he manhandles you, making space for you to crawl into the sheets.

you’re struck with what feels like another heart attack as a knock at the door pierces the air.

“do you have another girl over?” megumi scoffs pacing behind the doorway.

“you sleepwalking or something?” toji lies, clearly not considering the consequences of getting caught.

you feel him pull the sheets over your head with a soft laugh. warm hands rubbing over your sides through the thin fabric, a sweet attempt at calming you down.

“i’m not stupid.” his son replies, kicking the foot of the door for good measure. “did you even drive my friend home?”

“she ubered, kid.” toji lies again, groping your breast over the thin sheet. you yelp at the sudden contact, earning a teasing “shhhh” from the man above you.

“fucking knew you brought someone over.” megumi sighs, trudging down the hallway with vague threats of “you’re paying for my dorm room next year.” and “can’t keep it down.”

you emerge from the covers, arms snaking around toji’s shoulders with a sigh of relief.

“what’d i tell you about that volume problem?” he laughs, lowering you onto his still hard cock with a breathy groan.

“fuck, did you get wetter or somethin?” he asks, clearly in disbelief.

“course not!” you mouth, stifling a whimper as he begins to thrust.

“i know honey.” he teases, biting the curve of your shoulder to stifle a groan. “i’m just fuckin’ with you.”

#adah’s asks #fushiguro toji #toji x reader #jujutsu kaisen #toji fluff #toji drabbles #toji hcs #toji x reader fluff #toji x fem reader #dilf toji #dilf toji x reader #dilf!toji x reader #jjk #dilf toji x reader fluff #dilf!toji #toji x reader smut #toji x fem reader smut #toji smut

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ikkyfics · 1 month ago

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This is my first time requesting so I'm a little nervous!

Could you maybe write for Dave with a partner that has insomnia and really struggles with sleeping?

For example he would sometimes wake up at like 4 am and just see her on her phone wide awake?

Thank you if you decide to write this! Also please don't push yourself and take care! :)

Until You Sleep

Dave Lizewski x f!reader

Summary: When he entered, the steaming cup in his hand, you looked up at him, surprised. “Dave, you didn’t have to...” “I did, actually,” he interrupted with a soft smile. “Here. There’s nothing better than lavender tea to help you relax. Trust me, I researched everything about this.”

Warnings: none!

A/N: dear, i really hope you like this <333 it was a really cute request to write, please also take care

Masterlist

Dave had noticed you. It wasn’t that he hadn’t been paying attention before, but in the past few weeks, something felt different. You had been quieter, your eyes a little glazed, as if they were constantly tired. There were faint, but persistent dark circles that he had noticed while you bent over your college books or during the rare mornings when he woke up before you. It was as if insomnia had stolen some of the sparkle he loved so much about you, and that worried him more than he could express.

That night, Dave woke up suddenly. He wasn’t even sure what had woken him, but he instinctively turned to your side of the bed. You were there, still lying down, but something was wrong. Your silhouette, lit only by the faint blue light from your phone, was still, except for the soft movement of your fingers on the screen.

He blinked a few times, his messy dark curls falling over his forehead as he propped himself up on an elbow to get a better look. The first thing he noticed was the loose shirt you were wearing – one of his, navy blue, with the sleeves rolled up at your wrists. It was a sight that usually made his heart race with happiness, but now it only made him more aware of the fact that something was wrong.

“Hey,” he called, his voice still rough from sleep, but full of a sweetness he reserved only for you. “You couldn’t sleep, huh?”

You froze for a moment, as if you didn’t want him to know, but then sighed and lowered your phone. “I didn’t want to wake you...” your voice came out low, almost apologetic.

Dave leaned in closer, now lying on his side to face you. His blue eyes, even in the dark, had an intensity that made it seem like he could see much more than just your tired face. He reached out a hand to you, his warm fingers brushing against the cool skin of your arm. The touch was gentle, a silent request for you to look at him.

“You’ve seemed so tired lately. I’m worried,” the sincerity in his voice was enough to make you finally meet his gaze.

He slid his fingers down your arm until he was holding your hand, squeezing it lightly. “I know you’re trying to handle this on your own, but... let me help. I don’t like seeing you like this.”

There was something in his tone – a mix of determination and affection – that was so typically Dave. He wasn’t just awake; he was present. Completely focused on you, as if nothing else in the world mattered at that moment.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were feeling like this?” he asked, his other hand gently brushing a strand of hair from your face.

You hesitated for a moment, averting your gaze to the phone still in your hand. Dave’s fingers, warm and firm, traced a gentle pattern on your arm, as if he were trying to convey calm through touch. His question echoed in your mind, simple yet full of meaning. He wasn’t just curious; he wanted to understand, wanted to know how he could help.

“I... didn’t want to bother you,” you murmured, finally responding. Your voice sounded fragile, almost a whisper. “You have so much going on with college, with assignments... It didn’t seem fair.”

Dave shook his head almost immediately, his messy curls moving with him. “That’s not how it works, you know? We’re in this together. If you’re not okay, then I’m not okay. That’s what being together means.”

He squeezed your hand a little tighter, leaning in closer. His eyes were soft, but there was determination in them, a quiet strength that made you want to believe every word he said. “You’ll never be alone in this, okay? No matter what.”

A brief, shy smile appeared at the corner of your lips, but you still seemed hesitant. Dave noticed. He always noticed. Without letting go of your hand, he leaned in closer and placed a soft, lingering kiss on your cheek, just below your eye. It was such a simple gesture, but full of affection that made your chest warm.

“Wait for me here,” he said, his voice low, almost a secret shared between you two. “I’ll be right back.”

Before you could ask what he was doing, he got up. Dave was just in sweatpants, the muscles in his back moving smoothly as he walked to the kitchen. You followed his movement, his messy curls and broad shoulders a reminder of how he had changed since high school. He was stronger now, but still the same Dave – kind, caring, always willing to put you first.

In the kitchen, he moved with careful quietness, trying not to make noise. He opened the small cabinet where you kept the teas and scanned the packages. He had bought those flavors specifically for you, after a long night researching about insomnia. The promises of relaxation and calm were printed on the packages in soft fonts, almost as if they were the solution to everything.

“Chamomile... or maybe lavender?” he murmured to himself, holding both packets for a moment before choosing the lavender one.

While the water heated up, Dave rested his hands on the counter and glanced down the hallway, where he could see the faint light from the lamp illuminating the bedroom. He wanted to do more. He wanted to find a way to lift the weight that seemed to have settled on you, even if it was an invisible weight.

When the kettle whistled, he quickly made the tea, adding a small spoon of honey – just the right amount of sweetness. He made sure it was the right temperature before heading back to the bedroom.

You were still lying there, the phone now resting beside you. When he entered, the steaming cup in his hand, you looked up at him, surprised.

“Dave, you didn’t have to...”

“I did, actually,” he interrupted with a soft smile. He sat down beside you on the bed, holding the cup carefully to avoid spilling it. “Here. There’s nothing better than lavender tea to help you relax. Trust me, I researched everything about this.”

You took the cup, your fingers brushing his for a moment. The warmth of the porcelain matched his expression – so warm, so full of affection.

“You really researched it?”

“Of course I did.” He seemed genuinely proud of himself, the smile on his face growing wider. “And you wouldn’t believe how many forums I read about what works to help someone sleep. Seriously, some people even suggest smelling soaps.”

You chuckled softly, the first time in days, and Dave looked at you as if he had just won the biggest prize in the world.

“That’s so silly,” you said, but you were still smiling.

“It might be, but if it works, I’ll do it.” He leaned in closer, his eyes sparkling with that intensity so typical of him. “Anything to see you feel better.”

The silence settled back in, but this time it was different. There was no discomfort, only his presence, solid and comforting, like a safe harbor for the storms brewing in your mind.

Dave watched as you held the cup with both hands, blowing gently on the tea before taking a sip. He didn’t take his eyes off you for a second, as if every small movement you made deserved his full attention. It was that kind of thing that made him special – the way he was completely present, even in the simplest moments.

“Is it good?” he asked, his blue eyes fixed on yours.

You nodded, a small smile forming at the corner of your lips. “It’s perfect. Lavender with honey... you really pay attention to everything.”

“Of course I do,” he responded immediately, with a smile that made your heart warm. “I’m your boyfriend. It’s like... my mission to know what makes you feel good.”

The way he said it was so genuine, so full of affection, that you couldn’t help but smile even wider. He seemed satisfied to see it, as if that small gesture was confirmation that he was on the right path.

While you finished making the tea, Dave adjusted himself beside you on the bed, leaning back against the headboard with the pillow folded behind him. He was closer now, and you could feel the warmth radiating from his body, strong and secure.

“You know,” he started, his voice low, as if sharing a secret, “some people say that ambient sounds help with sleep. Like... rain noises, ocean waves... things like that.”

You tilted your head, curious, as you placed the empty cup on the nightstand. “Did you find that in your late-night research?”

“I did,” he admitted, laughing at himself. “I read a bunch of reports. There are even apps for that, you know? I thought about downloading one, but then I started wondering... what would I do if you said you preferred the sound of a waterfall or something impossible to replicate?”

You laughed softly, and he smiled along with you, as if the sound of your laughter was the answer to all his questions. He extended an arm, gently pulling you closer until your head rested on his chest.

“Well,” you began, your voice slightly muffled, the words vibrating against the firm skin of his chest, “I think I don’t need rain or waterfall sounds.”

“Oh, you don’t?” he asked, lowering his gaze to you.

You shook your head, a near-childlike gesture, as you slipped one arm around his waist, snuggling in closer. “I think I prefer listening to your heartbeat. It’s the most relaxing sound I know.”

Dave was silent for a moment, clearly surprised by your response. Then, his smile widened, lighting up his face in a way that made your chest tighten. He tilted his head slightly, pressing a lingering kiss to the top of your head, while his hand began gently caressing your back.

“You’re unbearably cute, you know that?” he said, his voice almost a whisper.

“You like it,” you replied, with a mischievous smile he didn’t need to see to know it was there.

“I love it,” he corrected, without hesitation. “And I love you. Far more than I can explain.”

Your face was pressed against his chest, and you could hear the steady, constant sound of Dave’s heartbeat. It was a rhythm that brought an almost immediate sense of security, as if the outside world could wait while the two of you remained like this, together.

“It’s beating fast,” you murmured, your voice soft and sleepy, as if it was more of a stray thought than something that needed to be said.

Dave laughed softly, a sound that reverberated through his body and reached you. “It’s your fault, you know?”

“My fault?” You lifted your face just enough to look at him, your brow slightly arched in confusion.

“Of course,” he replied, his blue eyes shining with amusement and something deeper, something more intimate. “You’re here, all cute, wearing my shirt... saying things that make my heart almost jump out of my chest. How do you expect it to stay calm?”

A shy smile appeared on your face, and you looked away, pressing your cheek back against his chest. Before fully resting, you left a delicate kiss there, right where you could feel the accelerated beats. It was such a small gesture, but it carried so much affection that Dave sighed, wrapping his arms around you and pulling you closer, as if wanting to protect you from anything that might disturb you.

“You’re so silly,” he said, but there was a clear smile in his voice. “But, my God, I love this so much.”

You didn’t answer immediately, letting the comfortable silence fill the space between you. It was the kind of silence that didn’t need to be broken because it was full of meaning. The sound of your breaths blended together, and the warmth of his body beside you seemed to dissipate any trace of tension that might still have lingered.

After a few minutes, Dave spoke again, his voice low and soft, as if afraid to break the moment. “I’ll stay awake until you fall asleep.”

“You don’t need to do that,” you replied, your voice slightly muffled against his chest.

“Of course I do,” he said, as if it were obvious. “You’re the most important person in my life. If you can’t sleep, I can’t just ignore that.”

There was a pause, and he took the time to run his fingers through your hair, the movements slow and meticulous. It was a touch you knew he did on purpose because he knew how much it helped relax you.

“Dave...” you began, but your voice faltered slightly.

“Hmm?” He continued with his fingers in your hair, but tilted his head slightly to look at you.

“You make everything feel... easier,” you admitted, your eyes beginning to close as the fatigue finally started to take over. “Even when it feels impossible to sleep... with you, I feel like I can. I love you.”

Dave didn’t answer immediately but left a soft kiss on the top of your head, his warm breath against your hair. “It’s because you don’t have to do anything alone,” he whispered, as if it were a promise. “I’ll always be here, okay? Always.”

The sound of his heartbeat remained steady, and the arms around you were firm and comforting. For the first time in weeks, you felt your eyelids growing heavy for real, and before you could even realize it, sleep finally began to pull you under.

And Dave, as promised, stayed awake, watching you with a soft smile on his lips, as if taking care of you was the only thing in the world that truly mattered.

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beholdthebangs · 2 months ago

Text

Perseverance

Sebastian x F!Reader

~ 18+ ~

Synopsis: Smut - You spend far too much time thinking about Sebastian only for him to keep you at arms length for months. Conversations always turn to arguments but one night, arguments turn into something entirely new.

Word count: 8.1k

Warnings: dirty talk, vaginal sex, unprotected sex, creampie, semi-rough sex, praise, lowkey brat!reader, jealousy, arguing, smoking, drinking

A/n: I don’t have a good summary for this, I just wanted to write about Sebastian so I did ☺️

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Waking up with the rise of the sun every day is certainly not a lifestyle everyone can get behind, but it’s the one you chose the day you left your corporate work life behind to take over your late grandfather’s farm. The days are often long, but you love the occasional short ones where your list of tasks is short enough to crawl into bed by sunset, body aching nonetheless, hoping that maybe the extra time spent resting will heal you this time. Because of your somewhat unique schedule, you frequently run into the same residents of Pelican Town. Alex often crosses paths with you on his morning run. Sometimes his grandmother, Evelyn, is in the town’s centre watering the flowerbeds as you hurry to Pierre’s to pick up seeds. Shane is often on his way to work and you greet him cheerfully in exchange for a tired grunt.

In turn, there are many people you hardly get the chance to see. You can never seem to track down Marnie for one reason or another. Sam is often so wrapped up in practicing his skateboarding tricks or rehearsals for his band that it’s difficult to get a sentence out of him. Gus is a rare sight, almost always locked away in his saloon which you sometimes pass longingly on busy days, wishing you could afford to slow things down for a moment but never having the luxury.

There’s also the night owl of the town: Sebastian. Tucked away in the mountains, typing away at the computer in the basement room he so frequently occupies, and you’d wondered if he ever left the confines of it. A short while into your time in Pelican Town, you finally get your answer.

The night had slipped away from you as you descended into the mines. You eventually throw in the towel and hurry out into the cool summer night breeze as the clock hits midnight, hoping to get just enough sleep to regain your energy tomorrow. As you hustle across the wooden bridge near the mine entrance, you notice a small glow from across the lake. Curiosity getting the better of you, you approach it slowly. Only a few feet away now, a shuffle is heard and a figure moves out from behind the thick trunk of a pine tree, a small yelp pulling from your throat. It twitches, moving quickly to look at you.

“Y/n?” it says. You recognize the raspy voice as Sebastian’s, the moon’s light finally helping you fill in the dark image before you.

“Sebastian, what are you doing out here?”

He holds up his cigarette between his two fingers before bringing it back to his lips, the cherry at the end lighting up orange and red, resembling that subtle glow that had pulled you in.

“I didn’t know you smoked.”

“Yep,” he replies, taking his eyes off you and looking back out over the lake that sits before him.

“Do you get lectured a lot?” you wonder. He looks back, tilting his head in confusion. “You seem a little defensive.”

Sebastian shrugs. “Yeah, I guess. My mom isn’t particularly happy about it but she’s always telling me to get out of my room.” He gestures vaguely to the nature surrounding him. You let out a small laugh.

“I’ll let you get back to it.” He doesn’t answer, just nodding as he turns himself back to the lake, leaning against the trunk of the tree behind him. With that, you head back home, barely making it into bed before 2 am and getting your bare-minimum 4 hours of sleep for the night.

Since then, you’ve felt an urge to go back to the mines in the afternoons. While you’re nearing the bottom levels, you know that your motivation doesn’t lie with the desire of reaching whatever awaits you underground. Once the time passes 7 pm, you want to quit and head back home. You want to leave the mines and look across the lake for that glowing cherry of Sebastian’s cigarette. To have a conversation so barebones that it’s a stretch to consider it a conversation. For some reason, you spend far too much time going over all the things you could say to him only to have a surface-level chat each time you manage to catch him before scurrying off as soon as the silence is too thick to break through.

This goes on for months, until the end of winter. It’s the last time you’ll be able to go to the mines for a while as you anticipate a busy spring. Your finances are in a good position with the gems you’d found in the mines over the cold season, and you have the gold to invest in a few hundred seeds this time around. The time and energy it’ll take to tend to your crops means you’ll likely only be able to go to the mines on rainy days, in which you’d noticed Sebastian wouldn’t be hanging around at night like he usually was.

When you call it quits in the mines tonight, it’s just past 11 pm. You can’t help but smile seeing the smoke blowing over the lake as you leave the cave, restraining yourself just enough to not skip over. “Hey,” you say, drawing his attention and he glances over his shoulder.

“Hey,” he replies quickly.

You stand to his side, just out of sight as he’s turned away from you. With a hesitant look over his shoulder once again, you make eye contact. He shuffles awkwardly, turning his body toward you as if confused to why you’re still standing there, staring at him.

“Do you mind if I have some of that?” you ask, gesturing toward his cigarette when he doesn’t move.

“You want to slut off it?” he asks. Your eyes widen, lips pursed at his words. He rushes out, “It’s a saying—“ and clears his throat as if to cut himself off. “Sorry. Here.”

Sebastian holds out his hand, cigarette between his index and middle finger for you to grab. You take it carefully, praying to Yoba that you don’t look as dumb as you feel fumbling with it. You grip it between your thumb and index finger, holding it up to your mouth and taking a quick puff, eyes flickering from the tip up to his eyes. He stares at you instead of breaking any eye contact like he usually does, studying you. While the taste of overwhelmingly bitter smoke is obvious, the paper of the cigarette holds the slightest bit of mint and you wonder if this is what Sebastian’s mouth would taste like. You hold the smoke in for a moment then breathe it out, his face fuzzy for a moment as the smoke spreads between you before being carried away with the wind. It takes everything in you not to choke with the feeling in your lungs, but you manage. Sebastian’s eyes still on you, you hand the stick back.

“How was your Feast of the Winter Star?” you ask as he brings it back to his mouth. You can’t help but wonder, watching him, if he’s thinking about your lips lingering there just moments ago just as you had.

“Good.” He hesitates. “How was yours?”

“Good! Who was your secret gift giver?”

“Clint. He gave me obsidian. You?”

“Cool,” you nod, making a mental note at the lack of disdain in his voice and jumping to the conclusion that it was a good gift for him. “Alex was mine. He got me a gold bar.”

Sebastian raises an eyebrow, looking back over at the lake and shutting a part of himself off from you once again. “You don’t have enough of those yet? You’re in the mines every day.”

“Every bit helps,” you shrug.

“Where’d he get the money for that?”

“I didn’t ask.”

“You must be close if he’s shelling out that much money on a gift for you.”

“Close is an overstatement.” He doesn’t seem to believe you, only taking a long drag in response. “You seem to really care about this,” you comment.

He scoffs. “Yep, it’s all I care about.”

“It’s just strange how you can hardly keep a conversation going, and now you’re asking me all these questions about Alex.”

“Maybe I don’t have an interest in holding up conversations,” he retorts. The way he says it cuts you deeper than you’d like to admit. You had subconsciously changed your routine to run into him, mind constantly running over your previous chats and future ones. To hear that he can’t relate to that at all, and in fact may even dread seeing you stroll over in the dark of the night, hurts.

“I thought you may take some enjoyment from it,” you mutter, looking to your shoes.

Sebastian rolls his eyes. He takes one last hit from his cigarette, then throws it in the patch of dirt at his feet, smothering it with his foot. “I’ll stop with the mixed signals, then. Goodnight, Y/n.” With that, he retreats back to his house, the remnants of smoke drifting off behind him as he exhales, leaving you with the smell of it as you watch him walk away in your peripheral.

Three weeks have gone by since that last conversation. If you’d thought Sebastian occupied too many of your thoughts before, it had gotten increasingly bad since. While you hadn’t seen him after that night, you would think of him when you saw Alex, Clint, or even gold. In fact, there wasn’t much that didn’t draw your attention to the darkened demeanor of the mysterious boy in the mountains. The switch in him hadn’t left you, and it continued to confuse and wound you no matter how long you thought about it.

The day of the flower dance finally arrives and as you shower, you think about what you might say to Sebastian. While it’s not his scene, you can be almost sure that he’ll be present regardless—if Abigail is forced to go, she’ll force Sebastian along with her. Part of you wonders if he would accept a request to dance with you, and you can’t help but laugh as you picture it. A man who couldn’t care less about talking to you certainly wouldn’t want to stare at you in a frilly dress and claim you as his partner, even if only for a minute.

After drying your hair and pulling on the formal dress all the girls wear for the occasion, you head south of your farm, through the shortcut into the woods. As you approach, classical music grows louder and you finally cross the bridge over to Pierre’s stand.

You begin greeting your neighbors, making rounds. You head the opposite direction of Sebastian, making eye contact over the back of Sam’s shoulder who seems to be going on about something that Sebastian is uninterested in. You take your time chatting with the others until, inevitably, you complete the loop with Sam, Abigail, and Sebastian.

“Hey guys!” you muster up your most energetic voice, waving as you approach their circle.

“Y/n! You look so good!” Abigail exclaims.

“You do too!”

Sam clears his throat obnoxiously, the others’ eyes drawn to him. “You look great too, Sam,” you add, throwing an over-exaggerated wink his way.

“At least someone noticed,” he grins.

You finally turn your attention to Sebastian. “How are you?” you offer, in large part because you miss the frivolous pleasantries you used to exchange, but also because Sam and Abigail would be rather suspicious if you said nothing in his direction.

“Good,” he responds rather roughly.

You look at him for a few seconds as he refuses to meet your gaze. You take full opportunity to scan over him in his blue suit. Though he wears an outfit identical to Sam’s, his tall stature and dark tattoos peaking from his neckline and sleeves give it a much different vibe. You force yourself away, taking a quick breath in and turning to the other two. “Well, I should get going. Enjoy the dance!” Abigail and Sam mutter their goodbyes as they glance between you and their friend, and you don’t bother looking back at Sebastian as you walk away.

You’d originally planned to sit this dance out like you had last year, but the way Sebastian refused to acknowledge you has caused something within you to break. You had toiled over your last conversation for cumulative hours each day and for him to not even bother asking you how you are? Even just for appearances’ sake?

Your gaze is set on Alex and your feet are carrying you toward him before you can register the decision. He smiles at you as you get closer, pulling his attention from Haley who circles the field as if stretching her body for the dance. “Hey Y/n, looking good.”

“Hey Alex,” you sigh as you stop a foot in front of him. “Will you dance with me?”

His eyes widen, flickering between you and Haley. She doesn’t seem to notice what’s going on, and Alex chews on his bottom lip as he debates his options. After a few seconds, he gives in. “Yeah, sure. That would be fun, thanks Y/n.”

You smile, nodding as if to confirm to yourself his answer before leaving to give Lewis the go-ahead.

The young men line up in the middle of the field, their counterparts facing them a few feet apart as music begins to play. It’s your second flower dance, but your first time participating. Being so new to the valley last year made it difficult to find a partner and you’d decided to sit it out and watch in hopes you could participate in the future. Now, you’re racking your brain to recall the steps.

Though you fall slightly out of sync with the girls who have done this dance for years, you manage to keep up, letting out quiet giggles with Alex whose expression is filled with amusement as he watches you. Sam stands next to him, Sebastian at the end, and you can’t help but steal a couple glances during the course of the song. He looks substantially less happy than the two boys closer to you, and you can’t help but wonder if the reason is more complex than his distaste for the festival.

As the music ends, Alex closes the gap and holds your arm for a moment. “You did great!”

“Thanks for being my partner,” you respond, smiling graciously.

“Any time.” He lowers his voice, leaning closer to your ear. “Haley’s great, but she takes this stuff really seriously. It was nice to just have some fun with it.”

The crowd disperses shortly after with the main event concluding. Sebastian, with Abigail and Sam on his heels, leads the charge as he practically storms away from the open field and back toward the town. You spend a few minutes mingling before heading back to your farm for the night.

Two days later, you find yourself nearing the end of a long week and in desperate need of food and alcohol. You sit at the bartop of the saloon, having finished a plate of crab cakes and your second beer of the night when Sam enters. He greets you as he passes, heading toward the pool table in the other room.

Your eyes are trained on his back, weighing your options for the rest of the night. You could either head back home and toss and turn in bed, or you could take this opportunity to bond and have some fun. You pause for just a moment before rising to your feet, hurrying after Sam. He’s already setting up a game when you enter. “When does your partner arrive?” you ask.

“Seb?” Sam checks his watch. “Hopefully within the next half hour. He’s not the most punctual.”

“Want to play a round?” you ask, gesturing to the table.

He seems taken aback, but quickly agrees. “That sounds fun. You want to break?” Sam offers up a cue and you take it, crossing the distance to the other side of the table. It had been a while since you’d played, so you had no strategy, but having seen Sam play against Sebastian for the past year, it seemed like it could be a fair fight.

You lean over, positioning the pool cue over your fingers and hit the cue ball hard. As it strikes the others, they fly across the table. You pocket a couple solids in the motion and you grin as you watch them roll in, happy to have had some luck. Sam groans as he leans against the wall behind him, cue vertical in his hands, resting on the floor between his feet.

You manage to sink another ball before missing the pocket, and Sam takes over. He pockets one as you’d accidentally left the perfect setup, but he fails to get anything more. As you work to line up your next shot, you hear him yell out a greeting. Glancing up, Sebastian has just entered. He quirks his head up curtly at Sam in response but his movements stutter as his eyes scan over to you. Before you can muster up any words, he looks away and takes a spot on the couch, eyes trained on his phone screen.

“Y/n and I are just playing a quick round,” Sam explains. “You don’t mind, right?” Sebastian grunts in response as if to dismiss him. Sam chuckles to himself.

You attempt to focus back on your shot, feeling an extra pressure with Sebastian here. Not only is he good at pool, but you have a desire to impress him. You take a deep breath while leaned over the table before pulling back and sinking your fourth solid.

“Killing me,” Sam mutters and you laugh. Sneaking a peak to the couch on your right, Sebastian has his gaze trained on the table. You locate your next shot on the left side and lean down facing the moody man, biting your lip as you try to position the pool cue perfectly. The shot is good, but your next one isn’t hard enough to sink the ball, though it’s in the perfect position only a few inches from the corner pocket.

Sam manages to hit a couple, celebrating loudly after each. When your turn comes back around, you have to circle the table to face the corner, your back to Sebastian. It gives you some comfort to know his view is blocked and if you miss the softball of a shot you’re about to take, he won’t be able to see it as clearly. You lean over, trying to ignore the weird expressions shooting across Sam’s face directed behind you, and pocket it.

One more lucky hit later, you call your shot for the 8-ball and, likely much to Sebastian’s relief as he’s stuck spectating, win the game. You cheer, waving the pool cue in the air as you jump excitedly. Sam congratulates you begrudgingly, crossing his arms.

“All yours, Seb,” you announce, laying the stick down on the table with a look of pride still clear on your face. You turn to look at the man on the couch as he fidgets.

Rising to his feet, he stuffs his hands in the front pockets of his jeans. “I’m going to have a smoke, I’ll be back in a minute.”

“I’ll go with,” you say. Unsurprisingly, your self invite doesn’t excite him l but you don’t let it stop you.

You follow his lead through the crowded saloon and out the door. The sun has set and you realize just how warm it was inside, feeling your skin tighten in response to the chill in the air despite being just around the corner from summer.

Sebastian pulls a cigarette out, putting one end in his mouth and flicking the lighter, holding it to the other end. He shields the flame from the wind, the motion reflecting the light of the flame to his face moreso than before. Once it ignites, he stuffs the lighter back in his jeans pocket and buries his hands in the pockets of his hoodie, seemingly feeling the effects of the cold air as well.

You pull the thin fabric of your long sleeve shirt further over your hands, crossing your arms around the bottom of your ribcage in an attempt to combat the cold. Sebastian blows out a puff of smoke, finally looking over at you. His eyes flicker down, almost as if to look at your chest, but they meet your eye before the motion can register. “You seem cold.” You realize the indents of your now-hardened nipples are prevalent in your top and you move your arms further up, trying to brush it off as a natural response.

“I’m fine,” you reply. “We don’t need to talk, since you hate it so much.”

“Then why follow me out here?” he interrogates.

“Crowded in there,” you answer with a shrug. He clearly doesn’t believe you, but you add nothing else in your defense. Silence stretches on, and you fight back all the things you’d been dying to say to him since the end of winter. To your surprise, his voice pulls you out of your thoughts.

“Looked good with Alex the other day.” You don’t reply. “Make it official yet?”

“Make what official?”

“You two,” he says, pointing between you and the Mullner household just around the corner from the saloon.

“There’s nothing to make official.”

“Got rejected?”

“No,” you snap. “Nothing to reject, either.” He says nothing. “What is it with him?”

“You tell me.”

“Really, Sebastian. You get so weird about Alex. Are you jealous of him or something?” He scoffs, taking another deep drag from his cigarette.

You study him from the corner of your eye. He’s shutting down, not about to give you any real answer and there’s nothing you can do about it but go about the next few days or weeks until your paths cross and you corner him into a conversation. Before you can think too much about it, you reach over and grab the cigarette from his mouth, putting it between your own lips and sucking in dark smoke.

After exhaling, you hold it between you to offer it back. When Sebastian doesn’t take it, you finally look over and his mouth is hanging open slightly, eyebrows furrowed, but he doesn’t necessarily look pissed. A moment of silence passes and you groan, taking the initiative to place the cig back between his lips. He closes around it, taking a small puff before pulling it back out and holding it between his index and middle finger, still waiting for some sort of explanation.

“I don’t know what your deal is with Alex.”

“You want to know what my deal is?” he challenges.

“Yes! Dear Yoba, yes!” you exclaim.

He turns to look at you, his torso still pressed against the exterior wall. “I hate the things Alex has. I hate that he has them, and that I don’t.”

“What does he have? Muscles?”

“I have muscles,” Sebastian retorts. You raise an eyebrow skeptically, lips twisted in a half-smile. “But no. He has money to buy you fancy gifts and people that really care about him. He has the boldness to talk to you whenever he wants, however he wants, and he has the charisma to make you like it.”

“I’d argue that you do that, too.” Sebastian rolls his eyes. “You give me the silent treatment for days at a time. I have to grovel with you to have a conversation, and I have to adjust my schedule to catch you outside your room, away from your work. You bitch at me for whatever’s got you in a mood that day and I take it and I sit with it until the next time I get to talk to you. You tell me you have no interest in talking to me and I spend so much time wondering how to change that. So yeah, I think you get away with a lot more than he does.”

“That’s because you’re annoyingly outgoing, not because you care any more about me than you do anyone else.”

“That’s not true,” you snap. “You’d know that if you’d bother to ask, or even just think critically for a few seconds.”

“You’d know that I don’t hate talking to you most of the time if you did the same.”

“You told me you don’t care to talk to me. You want me to ask clarifying questions after that?”

“What more do you need from me? I’m not going to get on my knees and beg you for your time,” Sebastian sneers.

“Do you think that’s what I’m asking for?”

He shrugs. “I let you hit my cigarettes, I don’t actively avoid you… what more is there?”

“Oh, I don’t know,” you fein confusion. “Telling me how you feel instead of —apparently— lying to me? Even just talking to me like a normal person once in a while? ‘Hey Y/n.’ ‘How are you, Y/n?’ ‘You look good today, Y/n.’”

“You do look good today,” Sebastian mumbles begrudgingly, taking another puff of his cigarette.

“And you look good every fucking day! But I never get the chance to tell you because you ignore me or you bring up Alex and talk about how annoyed you are that he pays me even a shred of attention.”

“Because it’s annoying that he does that.”

“So you want me to do what exactly? Rely on you to give me any and all conversation? I’ll go stir crazy if I only speak to someone twice a month while twisting their arm to do so.”

“I’d be happy to talk to you more if you stop bringing him up,” Sebastian snips at you. “Until you get over him, I don’t see that happening.”

You glare at the tall, brooding man. “I’m not under him.”

“As much as you wish you were,” he says under his breath. It’s not quiet enough, the valley’s silence after sunset too encapsulating for him to get away with his dig.

“If I wanted to be, I would.”

Sebastian hums around his cigarette. “So what’s stopping you?”

“I don’t think about Alex the same way I think about you. Alex is a friend and that’s all I want him to be.”

His fidgeting come to a halt for a moment, turning to face you. “Then how do you think about me?” His voice is low, speaking barely above a whisper.

You match him, your body pointed in his direction. “I think about you all the time. When I wake up, when I’m in the mines, when I go home. When I get into bed…”

Sebastian steps closer, only a few inches from you now. “Mhmm… and what do you do when you think about me?”

You look up at him through your eyelashes. The way he phrases his words implores you to open up to him and bare it all. Maybe it’s liquid courage or the adrenaline of raising your voice or finally speaking your mind. “It depends.”

“Yeah?”

“Sometimes I scream into a pillow at how frustrating you are.” Sebastian cracks a smile. “Sometimes I scream into a pillow at the thought of how good you could make me feel.”

“You think about it too, hmm?” he says, free hand moving up to place his fingers under your chin, keeping your gaze locked on him. Despite the cool spring breeze, your cheeks are red with heat.

“Yeah,” you breathe. Your fingers grab at the front of his hoodie, lacing with the fabric to bring him closer to you. The scent of cigarette smoke grows stronger, but so does the remnants of his spearmint gum. The two work together to create something that feels intoxicating to you, and all you want is to finally taste it.

Sebastian must notice how your eyes are trained on his soft lips. He puts his hands on either side of your face, cigarette still barely tucked between his left fingers, and pulls you to him, ducking down to close the gap your heights leave. Your lips touch, and you let out a small breath of relief, of desire. It spurs him on, right hand moving to the small of your back and pressing you to him as if no space between your bodies is still too much space. Your arms wrap around his neck, keeping him at your level. When his tongue swipes across your bottom lip, you don’t hesitate to allow him entrance, basking in his taste as your tongues meet.

“Think we should leave,” he mumbles between kisses, not making any move to let you go.

You nod against him.

“Gotta tell Sam.”

“Tell him what?” you whine, breathless.

“So much,” Sebastian groans. “But,” he finally pulls away, keeping you in his arms but standing straight so he falls just out of reach, your arms shifting down around his waist. “I gotta tell him I’m leaving.”

Before you can object, he slips out of your grasp, stomping on his cigarette butt and heading inside, leaving you to catch your breath as you lean against the brick siding of the saloon. Maybe thirty seconds later, he’s back out with Sam at his heels who watches you two in disbelief.

“Have fun, you crazy kids!” the blonde calls out as Sebastian wraps his arm around your waist and steers you toward your farm.

You walk in silence, the side of your body pressed to his. You can’t think of anything to interrupt the noise of chirping crickets around you, and certainly nothing to build the tension between you that doesn’t feel embarrassing to say out loud even in the darkness of the dirt walk home. “Second thoughts?” you finally ask as minutes elapse with nothing exchanged between the two of you.

“Fuck no,” Sebastian snarls. “Trying not to look at you or think about you… I want to last long enough to at least make it inside.”

You giggle, pulling him closer and slipping your fingers under his hoodie, nails pressed into his side.

After unlocking your farmhouse, he steps in and immediately spins you against the barely-closed front door. His lips are on yours for a moment before moving down your jaw to your neck, nimble fingers scrambling to tug your shirt past your stomach. He takes a moment to feel your delicate skin, running along your ribcage and the bottoms of your breasts before parting to pull your shirt over your head. “Bold move skipping a bra in this weather.” He stands back, admiring your exposed chest, nipples still hard from the cool air and the arousal he’s provided you in the last few minutes.

“Your turn,” you prompt, moving closer to tug at his hoodie. He pulls it off in one swift motion, and you help take off his t-shirt. He hadn’t lied when he said he had muscles—Robin must put him to work once in a while. His torso is lean, stomach harder to the touch than you’d imagined. The black-inked tattoos that lie hidden on his chest accentuate the divots formed by labor. His arms are understated, but as he reaches forward to grab you, the motion brings out a defined strain below his skin. Sebastian pulls you to him with ease, connecting your lips as your warmed skin meets. The way he writhes against you, uses his whole torso to break your kisses, creates friction that electrifies you, stemming from your sensitive nipples. You moan against his mouth, and his hands quickly wander to your ass, feeling it while he pulls you closer, finally achieving the perfect angle to thrust his clothed length against your core.

“Seb,” you cry, fingers tangled in the hair at the back of his head.

“C’mere, princess,” he mumbles, hands fastening tightly under your ass as he pushes you up against the door, pulling your thighs around his waist and settling you around him. Once he secures you, he moves you to your bed, setting you on your back with his thighs holding your legs up around him. He grinds into you as his tongue slips back between your lips, meeting your own.

Your hands feel down his chest, down his stomach, using the dark hair forming a line from his belly button down to his jeans to find the button before fumbling with it. “So greedy,” Sebastian comments, slowing his movements to allow you easier work.

“I want you so bad,” you groan. Even if he was inside of you in the next second, it would still be far too long of a wait.

Seb steps onto the cold wooden floor of your bedroom to finish pulling off his black skinny jeans, kicking them away as they pool around his ankles. He uses the opportunity to tug off your own jeans, smiling as he eyes your black panties with a tiny bow placed in the middle of the waistband just below your belly button. “Were you expecting me, baby?”

“Just hoping,” you admit, happy to find him content with your underwear choice.

He pats your hip. “Turn around, let me see the back.”

You follow his instructions, flipping over with your elbows rested on your pillows, arching your back as you allow him to see your ass in your black panties, pulled tight to the curves of it. Seb groans, placing a hand tightly on the flesh before slapping it harshly, making you jump. “So cute,” he purrs.

His hand slides down, thumb pressing against your core to feel the dampness gathering between your legs through the thin fabric. “Do you get this wet every time you think about me at night?”

You shake your head. “Reality is much better than my imagination.”

“I’m glad, princess, but I haven’t even gotten started with you.” Pulling his hand back, he prompts you to sit up, legs on either side of him as he stands next to your bed. He carefully slides his fingers under your panties, pulling them off as you hold your hips up to help him, arms stretched out behind you. “So beautiful,” he sighs to himself as he takes in your naked body stretched out before him, legs still parted and allowing him full view of your pussy.

“I wanna see you too,” you tell him, reaching forward to his black boxers. The bulge in the fabric of them is apparent, stretching down a decent portion of his thigh.

“Take ‘em off then,” Seb grins, giving you permission to strip him of the last of his clothing. You take your time, slowly revealing his length until all that’s left is the tip. With one final pull, his cock springs out, hot pink tip extended toward you. You pull your bottom lip into your mouth as you take it all in, the knot in your stomach tightening. The lack of friction between your legs is growing increasingly irritating, and your thighs close together in a desperate attempt to relieve some of the ache. “What do you think?” If you hadn’t been looking at one of the most appealing dicks you’d ever seen before, you might think he sounded nervous.

“So fucking hot.”

Sebastian smirks. “All big for you.”

He sits at the head of the bed, propped up by pillows. Patting his chest, he motions for you to lay between his legs. You do so slowly, feeling him press into the small of your back and a groan escapes his throat, bucking his hips involuntarily as you settle against him. Seb pulls your hair behind your back, sinking his teeth into the side of your neck and soothing it over with his tongue. His left hand sneaks around to play with your nipple while his right slowly travels down your stomach, stroking your inner thighs as he sucks bruises into your delicate skin. You arch your back against him, reaching a hand into his hair and tugging at it as he toys with your breasts.

“Sebbb,” you cry, pressing your thighs together as if trying to slide his hand up to your heat.

He lets out a guttural chuckle, loud against your ear. The sound shoots directly down to your core. “Use your words, baby.”

“Touch me, please.”

“Where?”

“Here!” you whimper, removing your hand from his hair and reaching to your dripping cunt.

“Mm-mmm,” he scolds, shaking his head. “Words, princess.” His hand releases your nipple, gripping your wrist tightly to stop you from touching yourself.

“You’re just as exasperating in bed as you are outside of it.”

“I know. You’re surprised?” he asks, feigning shock.

You wiggle, trying to get your hand free from his tight grasp. Giving up, you reach down with your other hand, but he uses the one on your thigh to block you. “Words,” he barks, low in your ear, nipping at the tender spot he just sucked into your neck and refraining from taking away the sting with his mouth. “Do you think I’m joking? Do you think I won’t leave right now to get rope to tie you up with?” You lean into him, giving up the fight. “All you have to do is tell me what you want and I’ll give it to you. Not that hard, princess.”

“Touch my pussy,” you finally plead. And Sebastian is true to his word; he releases your wrists and snakes his fingers down, dipping his middle finger into your cunt knuckle-deep, collecting your wetness and spreading it up to your clit. Even that motion after all the teasing is enough to elicit a moan, and this spurs on the man to slide his finger easily inside you, thumb rubbing tight circles on your sensitive bud as he thrusts.

“Ready for another?” he asks, to which you squeak out a confirmation. He tucks his ring finger inside, joining his middle, fucking in and out of you as you clench around him. “So wet,” Seb mumbles, leaning to latch onto the other side of your neck with his lips. His other hand returns to your breasts, pinching at your nipples as you lean into him. “Can you take one more?”

“Yes,” you answer, moving your hips in time with his fingers. He adds his index into you, stretching out your hole in preparation for his thick cock. The tips tilt upward, rubbing against the spongy spot inside you. You buck your hips involuntarily, feeling him so deep inside you. While Sebastian’s fingers are long, his cock is nearly twice the length and you quiver at the thought of it inside you. His length twitches, poking against your back as if to remind you of what’s to come.

“Think you’re ready, baby?” he asks. “Wanna be inside you so bad. You feel so tight on my fingers.”

“I’m ready, Seb.”

He pulls out, leaving your cunt feeling incredibly empty. “On your knees, sweetheart. Wanna watch you fuck yourself on my cock right now.”

You bring your legs into your body, tucking your knees below you and spreading them to stabilize yourself on either side of Sebastian. You watch him stroke himself beneath your pussy, hovering over and waiting for him to position his length. He drags his tip from your clit to your hole, spreading his precum mixed with your slick along his length. Once his strokes sound wet and dirty below you, he pokes his tip at your entrance and you tighten at the anticipation. Sebastian reaches around your hip with his other hand to rub your clit as you begin to sit, taking him in slowly.

While he’s making you feel so good, you can tell that he’s distracted now, eyes trained at his groin as he watches himself disappear inside you. When his tip is fully tucked inside, he groans, letting go of his cock and squeezing the fat of your ass, spreading it aside to better see his cock entering you. “So fucking sexy,” he praises. “Such a good girl.”

With his thick tip inside, the rest of his cock is easier to manage though the length building inside you is intense as the backs of your thighs finally meet his hips. You let out the breath you’d been holding, finally feeling his entirety buried inside your cunt. Seb grabs at your hips, holding you down on him as he grinds into you, his tip poking your insides in such a way that you have to grip onto the sheets in front of you for dear life.

He breaks the silence, finally letting out his own deep breath. “Y/n, holy fucking shit.”

“Mm-hmm,” you agree, unable to manage any real words yet.

“Dear Yoba, please,” he whines, “please.”

“Please what?” you inquire, smirking to yourself.

His palm meets your ass with a swift smack. “Don’t be a brat.”

“Use your words,” you tease mockingly.

Sebastian easily lifts your hips, nearly pulling you all the way off his cock before pulling them back down abruptly and you fight off a yelp, coming out instead as a pornographic moan. “Don’t be a brat,” he repeats, emphasizing each word with quick shallow thrusts. You take over, moving yourself up and down his length as he watches, clingy fingers digging into your ass and prodding at your hole sliding along his cock, wetness dripping out as he fills up all the space in your cunt with each thrust.

You roll your hips as you bounce on top of Sebastian, positioning him to hit your g-spot each time you sink down. You squeeze your breasts and rub at your clit as you fuck yourself, head rolling back. Seb reaches up, gripping onto your hair cascading down your body to keep you in place, back arched as his hips meet yours. They roam you with abandon, taking the opportunity to grope you in all the ways the man can think of. As your moans get louder, he attempts to take more control until he finally pulls you off him.

He presses a firm hand between your shoulder blades, pushing you down to your elbows. As he kneels behind you, his cock begs entrance to your soaked pussy and he pushes in with ease. Though you’d gotten used to his girth, even a few seconds of emptiness had nearly reset you and you have to readjust to him. He barely gives you enough time before picking up the pace and burying your face into the blankets below you. You tilt your head to the side, cheek pressed harshly onto the bed as you admire Seb fucking you from behind.

His dark hair is pushed back, revealing most of his face for a change. The studs in his ears reflect the moonlight filtering in through the window near the bed, muscles glistening similarly in sweat. His face is twisted in concentration and pleasure, focused on keeping up the rapid thrusting of his hips and pleasuring you while holding back his own orgasm. You suck in a breath, biting on your lip as you take in the beautiful man bringing you closer and closer to the edge, his fingers leaving bruises on your hips.

Seb notices you staring and he can’t fight back the smile that tugs at the corners of his lips. “Hi baby,” he purrs, giving your lower back a soft stroke. “Feel good?”

“Yeah-h,” you manage.

“Me too, so fucking good. Fucking tight and wet, all for me, yeah?”

You nod fervently. “All for you. Y’r cock s’fucking big.”

“Taking it so good.” Sebastian’s thrusts have slowed into harsh, deep ones that fill you entirely. You grip the blankets in your fists, knuckles turning white. “Getting close?” You nod again, pathetically, starting to melt into him. All you can think of is the pleasure he’s giving you and you’ll do anything to feel it and ride out your orgasm with it.

“G’nna cum f’r me?” he asks again, leaning down to rub harshly at your clit. “Cum all over mm’ cock?”

“Yes, Seb!” you cry.

“Wanna feel you soak me, princess,” he commands, lips sprinkling wet kisses along your spine. “Pussy g’nna be so filled with our cum soon, yeah? ‘M gonna watch it drip out, kay?”

The knot growing in your stomach since the moment he kissed you reaches its height and you feel it snap all at once, a moment of serenity before your orgasm floods over you. You arch your back and let out strangled cries, letting all the words in your brain come tumbling out from your lips in a slurred mess. “Sebbyyy!” you groan as his fingers press into your hips tighter. “Y’make me feel s’fucking good, fuck! Please fill me Sebby.”

He groans, leaning further down against your back as he releases, whimpering mixes of your name and sweet pet names as he unloads into your cunt. His grunts turn to moans and whimpers in your ear as he finishes, hips gradually coming to a stop as you both come down from your highs. “Holy fuck,” he finally sighs, his body weight fully on you now.

“Fuck,” you sniffle, breathing labored.

You two lie on the bed for a minute, only focused on catching your breath as your sweaty bodies stick to one another. You can feel Sebastian’s dick slowly shrink inside you, blood flow directing back to his brain. Finally, he carefully peels himself away, pulling himself out of you. Seb ushers you back up on your knees, earning a groan but reluctant compliance. He sits back and admires the mess left on his cock, admires it dripping out of your used pussy. He uses two fingers to swipe the wet, then reaches around and rests it against your bottom lip. “Have a taste, hmm?”

You open your mouth and he wastes no time resting his fingers against your tongue. Your lips close around him, sucking the mix of your cum from him and humming at the sweet and saltiness. It tastes like pure desire and dirtiness, a final reminder of your time together as his half-hard length rests against your ass before he pulls away.

Your legs shaky, you finally roll over and collapse on your back, Seb following your lead and lying next to you. “Second thoughts?” he asks, looking over at you.

“Fuck no,” you grin. “You?”

“Fuck no.” He wraps a lazy arm around you. “If I could, I’d do it again right now.”

You nod, turning to nuzzle your face against the side of his neck as your eyelids flutter closed. “Staying?” you mumble.

“Have to go home,” Seb groans. “You need your sleep and I don’t think I can accommodate that for very long.” You wrap your arms around him in protest, but he easily breaks through as he sits up, looking down at your spent, naked body. “I think I’ll see you tomorrow though, yeah?”

You smile, gathering the willpower to gaze up at him. One side of his face is covered in the shadows, but the other is illuminated by the moonlight sneaking through the window and you wish you could stay in this moment a little longer and just look at him. The sharp bones over his eyes and along his jaw, toned arms holding himself up, scattered hairs along his torso pointing to the object of your desire as it drapes over his inner thigh.

“Yeah,” you belatedly agree.

“Call me in the morning. Let me know if you need any help covering this up.” Seb reaches down and gently strokes a tender spot on your neck, realizing it must be bruising from the force of his teeth and lips earlier. “I can probably ask Abi for some advice.”

Sebastian begins picking up piles of clothing from the floor, pulling on his boxers, jeans, and hoodie before sliding his sneakers back on. Holding a dark black t-shirt in his hand, he offers it to you. “Put this on so you don’t freeze tonight.” You take it gingerly. Leaning down to pepper your lips with soft kisses, Seb finally makes his exit with a quiet goodbye and you drift to sleep, surrounded by his scent.

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