#jackie angst is always so good

[jackmkelly]

every so often i think about that one time newsies uk had to cut a delancey (bc that makes more sense then just canceling and giving ur cast easter off lmao weirdos) BUT because of that Snyder took jack down to the cellar….. keeps me up at night

[missqhughes]

CAN HE GET YOU LIKE THIS? | Q. HUGHES43

-> quinn hughes x jacksgf!reader

-> contains: cheating, smut with plot , SLIGHT angst, and other sexual themes, oc’s created for tha plot, intended lowercase, use of y/n

-> IN WHICH: jack almost cant seem to control himself around another woman at the lake house; and to make it worse, in front of his girlfriend. when she cries her frustrations to her boyfriends older brother, he seems to have the perfect solution to her problems.

-> my first hockey fic! i spent so much time on it, and i’m pretty proud tbh. also, i’m so excited to post on this page, and as i always say on my other blog, hope you love it as much as i do!

*fic is not proofread

18+ CONTENT BELOW THE CUT

y/n was never the jealous type.

she never needed anyone’s approval.

but god, what jack was doing was pissing her off.

for the first time, luke had brought his girlfriend april, to the lake house for the summer, and this week, y/n had the unpleasant company of aprils friend stampeding around the house for the week.

about 100% of the time, she could handle girls throwing themselves at jack at this point. she was used to it; jack was always a good boyfriend to her, and could always control himself with his endless female attention.

until today.

the july sun delivered a scorching heat down on the group as they conversed somewhere on the middle of the lake in the hughes family boat.

the typical casual conversation that y/n, jack, and his brothers had on their boat days were greatly interrupted by the ear piercing voices of april’s friends.

“jack, wanna let me drive the boat?”

“jack, the sun is too bright! can i please wear your hat?”

jack let out low chuckles at the flattery delivered to him, and y/n was doing her usual job at ignoring them.

with her dark tinted sunglasses on and her head resting on the back seat of the boat, she saw her boyfriend place his white baseball cap on one of april’s god forsaken friend.

her eyebrows furrowed; jack never fed into anything like this. the pang of anxiety lowly rested in the pit of her stomach, but she chose to ignore it.

he knew better.

“jacky, how does it look on me?”

through her dark lenses, she witnessed the ratty girl in front of her spin in front of jack, pulling the sides of her bikini up while doing so.

he made no attempt to hide his gaze on the girl in front of him, or the comment that slipped from his lips afterwards;

“looks good,” he said lowly, probably thinking that his girlfriend mere feet away from him was fast asleep from the summer heat, unaware to his tease.

the anxiety in y/n’s stomach began to surface more, a jealousy and anger she hadn’t felt in a situation like this before arising. she thought whatever of it, that she was being crazy, that she could shove this feeling down.

y/n kept her gaze straight forward, blocking out any of the chatter coming from anyone in her vicinity; her eyes locked on luke’s slow speed on the boat, conversing casually with april, unaware of the drama brewing behind them.

god, can he not drive any faster? she thought to herself, the annoyance within growing deeper and deeper.

the boat rocked along with the motion of the water beneath it, but y/n did her best to sit completely still, feeling that if she moved, the her negative emotions would swirl harder.

after a grueling 4 minute ride back to the dock, luke had secured the boat,

“everyone’s good to get off now,” he told the group, grabbing april’s hand and towel, assisting her onto the dock.

the short haired girl, the one throwing herself all over jack, the one who’s name y/n didn’t even bother to remember in their introductions, was just about to take it too far.

she stood up first, jack and y/n following behind her.

the ratty girl “dropped” her towel, allowing the perfect opportunity to bend down in front of jack,

“woops! my bad,” her voice made an embarrassing attempt to be seductive to jack, turning her head to eye him up and down.

jack let out a deep inhale, just enough to set y/n off further on her silent rage.

“all good, let me help you out.”

the girl giggled as she took jacks hand, letting it linger on his skin longer than necessary.

he paid no mind to his girlfriend behind him.

the insatiable urge to strangle the two idiots in front of y/n was barely present on her face, as she decided to take back control of the situation, and remind both of them who his significant other was.

“babe, i’m tired, do you want to come up and take a nap?”

his conversation with the short haired girl was cut with y/n’s words, he looked back at the two, contemplation in his mind, before smiling at y/n.

see? nothing to worry about-

“i uh, i think i’m gonna stay down here for a bit, don’t want to go inside yet, it’s just a really nice day y’know?”

her ears began to ring with his words, cheeks growing red as she looked over at luke and april, who shifted uncomfortably, now aware of the drama upon the dock.

“uh, yeah… yeah that’s fine.”

“i’ll be up soon, promise,” jack said as he sat down with april, luke, and her stupid friend.

y/n ignored his words, turning on her heel to walk up to the house, pace growing as soon as she was out of sight from the dock.

now that she was alone, all the feelings the thought she was suppressing were now at the forefront of her body and mind. she ran her hands through her hair, almost ready to rip it out from frustration.

y/n stormed through the house, and as she passed the living room, she was met with quinn; who was quietly reading a book with his feet kicked up on the ottoman.

before he lifted his head, his eyes went up first, gaze met with y/n’s indignant expression,

“woah, you okay, something happen on the one boat day i miss?” he said light heartedly,

“quinn, not now,”

y/n snapped at him, before slamming her bedroom door, the action echoing through the otherwise quiet house.

——————————————————————————

dinner wasn’t any better.

y/n didn’t realize how much time had gone by as she was staring at the ceiling, recounting the events of the day. jack did not keep his promise about “coming up soon” which wasn’t to the shock of y/n, considering his behavior today. he did stop in her designated room, to give her a kiss on the forehead, and to tell that dinner was ready.

and that was it.

now, she was sitting next to jack at the table, his happy chatter with his brothers, april, and company sounding like mumbles in her ears. she felt a gaze on her, hoping it was jack, but when y/n turned her head softly to confirm, he was still smiling at his continued conversation.

like nothing was wrong.

there was only one other person who wasn’t talking, and her eyesight landed right on his.

quinn.

she shifted in her seat, quickly averting their eye contact, and picked at her quarter eaten meal with her fork.

“excuse me everyone, i’m gonna go lay down,”

jack looked at y/n, giving her a half smile and no thought to her abrupt departure, before returning to his seemingly endless conversation.

y/n began to pick her plate up to take it to the sink, when quinn’s voice spoke up,

“i’ll take care of it,” the tips of his fingers pushed down lightly on the edge of her plate.

“you sure? it’s fine i don’t-”

“just go lay down.”

y/n blinked at him a few times before nodding her head, setting her plate down and shuffling to her room.

she closed the door softly this time, letting out a shaky breath as she sat on the edge of the plush bed. her head was beginning to throb, not sure if it was from lack of food or just from the complete and total anxiety jack was giving her.

——————————————————————————

y/n scrolled mindlessly on her phone, again losing the track of time with the state she was in.

1:19am.

the dryness in her throat was becoming more present as she came down from her brain fog, deciding to clear herself with a glass of water.

y/n slipped into the kitchen, only the warm dim glow from the microwave light allowing her to see. the glass cups lightly clinked together as she pulled one out, then setting it down to fill up.

the refrigerator hummed softly, barely breaking the silence through the house. then, a raspy voice spoke behind her,

“what’re you doing up?”

y/n whipped her head around, almost dropping and shattering the glass of water in her hand,

“jesus christ quinn, you scared the shit out of me!”

she set down the glass to put a hand to her chest, an attempt to slow down the spike in her heart rate.

quinn let out a small, quiet laugh, “sorry, i thought you heard me.”

“no,” she let out a huff, “i didn’t,” y/n smiled back at him gently as the beating in her chest settled.

“so, what’s wrong?”

quinn was quick to change the conversation to put her on the spot, y/n’s lips parting as she thought of her next words.

“nothing, i don’t know what you’re talking about-”

“yes you do.”

y/n scoffed, “you really have a habit of interrupting me don’t you?”

“stop avoiding the question. what’s wrong? talk to me, y/n.”

the two stared at one another, having an unspoken battle with each other,

y/n broke first.

she swallowed, knowing the words about to spill out of her mouth were going to come shaky and scattered; she didn’t want quinn, or anyone for that matter, to know the state her mind was at. y/n hopped up to sit on the kitchen counter, retelling the day to quinn.

“it was… it was jack. today. he was just letting april’s stupid fucking friend flirt with him! and-”

“alana?”

she shot him a deep scowl, “don’t interrupt me to tell me what her stupid name is!”

quinn raised his hands in defeat, “sorry, sorry, keep going,”

“he let her wear his hat, she bent over in front of him and he said nothing, and as you could tell from earlier today, he didn’t even come up to the house with me when i asked…”

her words trailed off shakily, y/n felt hot, wet tears flow down her cheeks, slightly blurring her vision, she looked down, unable to meet quinn’s gaze she felt burning into her face.

“y/n… i’m sorry. he’s a shithead for that,”

he stepped closer to her, lessening the distance between them,

“y/n.”

she hummed in response, sniffles coming from her, still refusing to look up at him,

“y/n look at me.”

y/n knew how persistent quinn was, and he definitely was not going to let her get away with not looking at him. though it felt like lifting a ton of bricks, her glossy eyes looked up to meet his.

quinn’s eyes flickered all over her face, reading her sorrow expression. he brought his hand up to meet her face, gently using his thumb to brush away any fallen tears on her tinted cheeks.

“you know, i really hate it when you cry,” he cooed softly, still wiping away the spilling tears, paying more attention to her in these mere minutes than jack had been all day.

“i’m so mad at myself, i should’ve said something, i let it all happen in front of me,” y/n said, her quiet frustrations let out only for quinn’s ears to hear.

“hey, hey, no. you shouldn’t have even been put in that position, don’t blame yourself, okay?” he placed his hands on either sides of the counter, locking her in. his voice being stern but still soft, a tough love kind of talk.

y/n’s heart beated faster as she became hyper aware of how close their bodies were, feeling the warmth radiating off of him.

she wanted to knock herself in the head for feeling this way, but her heightened distaste for jack in the moment, quinn’s messy hair combined with his beard and tired eyes made him so sinfully appealing.

“you’re right, i shouldn’t have,”

y/n felt almost awkward in this moment, especially it being her boyfriends older brother. there was no way for her to move without being even closer to him.

“god, y/n… cant believe that… if i had you… i’d never let that happen,”

quinn’s tired eyes turned lustful by the second, going up and down y/n’s body before flickering between her own eyes and lips.

“quinn,” she let out with a breath, “you cant say things like that, you know you can’t,”

y/n couldn’t help herself from matching quinn’s motion, unable to tear away from looking at his full lips.

“after the shit he pulled today, i think i’m safe to do whatever the hell i want,”

the gentle demeanor in his voice was replaced with seduction, bringing his face closer to hers, close enough for their breaths to mingle.

“say the words y/n, i wont do anything you don’t want me to do. say the words and i’ll stop.”

she was between a rock and a hard place. it’s not like jack had outright cheated in front of her, and she would feel horrible doing something like that to him. however, his actions were inexcusable, and he saw not an inch of an issue with what he was doing. and at the exact same time, quinn was ready to be all over her. hell, he’s practically admitting to wanting his little brother’s girlfriend. in this moment, he could give her anything.

fuck it.

this is what he gets, she thought to herself. it’s not like he would find out anyway. no one would.

“i want you quinn.”

the words rolled off her tongue faster than her mind let her think about the consequences, and in no time, quinn captured y/n’s lips in his, securing his hands on to her waist.

the two kissed sloppily in the kitchen, out in the open, with too much opportunity to get caught. neither of them cared.

y/n’s hands found a home in his hair, quinn emitting a low groan as she gently tugged at his waves.

she felt a heat growing between her legs, and an attempt to close them for relief was blocked by quinn pushing them back open with his hips.

y/n gasped, allowing quinn’s tongue entry, and as he explored her mouth with his, she felt him growing harder against her core, making the wetness in her shorts more difficult to ignore.

quinn panted heavily as he pulled away, still gripping at her waist, fingers hugging the bottom hem of her shirt,

“can i take this off?”

she buzzed at his words, nodding vigorously. with her consent, he raised the shirt above her body, y/n lifting her arms in assistance.

quinn wasted no time to kiss down her neck to her now exposed upper chest, sitting perfectly pretty in her bra. he sucked and nipped at the bare skin, earning quiet moans from her soft lips.

“mm—fuck quinn,” y/n threw her head back in pleasure, giving more room for quinn to litter her chest with marks. she didn’t even care if they were going to bruise tomorrow or who was going to saw. everyone else was on the back burner of her mind.

her praise only made him rougher, sucking harder into her skin, feeling himself getting more and more rowdy by the second.

his lips went up to claim hers again, tapping her thigh as a signal to wrap her legs around his waist. she listened, hooking herself around him. quinn lifted her up effortlessly, their kiss not being broken as he peeked his eyes open in a tenth of a second to see their way to his room.

with one hand tucked under y/n’s ass, he turned the knob to his bedroom door, stepping into the room before closing the door behind him with a light kick.

quinn’s legs met the edge of the bed, and he threw her down before making himself pry his lips from her’s, plump and slick from his.

“you’re still okay with his?” he asked, his thumb drawing circles on her hips.

“more than okay, please quinn. i need more.”

he nodded, taking a step back to take all of her in with his eyes.

she looked at him confused for a moment, before he talked,

“strip.”

she swallowed heavily, ready to obey his words. y/n wiggled out of her shorts, leaving her skin only covered by a black bra and panties.

“i said strip. all the way.”

her heart was about to come out of her chest, all of it was beginning to feel real, and that she was about to be naked and on display for jack’s brother.

only hearing the beating in her chest, quinn watched as y/n unhooked her bra first, tits bouncing with the action, and he thought he could cum in his pants right then and there.

y/n sat down on the bed, staring deeply into quinn’s eyes, slipping her black panties down her half parted legs, pussy wet and glistening from the moonlight shining through the window.

“fuck,” he whispered, unable to control his hand from falling to his crotch, beginning to palm himself through his shorts.

with a single hand, quinn took his shirt off, dipping his head down to kiss her naked thighs. y/n shuddered at his action, his kisses being everywhere except where she desperately needed them to be.

he hovered just above her core, “can i?”

“quinn please stop fucking asking and just do it,” y/n begged, squirming under him, desperate for his touch.

he licked a long stripe down her wet folds, y/n unable to control the guttural moan that escaped from her lips. her back arched in pleasure at the feeling of quinn’s lips sucking on her puffy clit, aching for attention.

he couldn’t stop; he was devouring her like it was his death row and she was his last meal, already addicted to the taste of her pussy on his tongue.

quinn pushed her hips down, sticking his tongue in her and his nose bumping against her clit with each motion. y/n felt knots twisting and forming in her stomach, a strong release forming, one that jack had never even came close to making her feel.

“mmph, shit quinn— gonna fucking cum, oh— my fuck,”

profanities spilled out of y/n’s mouth, but her pleasure was cut short as his dripping lips pulled away from her aching core, craving his touch.

she whined at the loss of contact, only to be met with quinn peeling off his shorts and underwear, his throbbing dick aching with desire from his tip.

“when i make you cum, i want it to be on my dick, pretty girl.”

y/n felt like she could’ve exploded right then and there, but she bit her lip, moving closer to the edge of the bed, giving quinn better access to line up with her.

he ran his dick between her wet folds a few times before inserting himself in her, the two let out gracious moans at the mutual pleasure.

quinn started slow, hips rolling back and forth, before quickening his pace to a pornographic speed.

his lips hooked onto y/n’s once again, sloppy and wet, both groaning into each others mouths with delight. in the kiss he captured both her wrists, pinning them above her head.

quinn broke the kiss to look at her with his brows furrowed, concentrated on fucking y/n senseless. her bottom lip was between her teeth, tits bouncing with the speed of his thrusts.

“fuck y/n, you feel so good on my dick, can he ever get you like this? a moaning fucked out mess? hm?”

his words barely registered in her ears, body buzzing as his dick continued to destroy her pussy.

“no, no, mm— you fuck me so much better quinn,” y/n did her best not to scream it, still aware that the other people in the house had the potential to hear them.

“gonna— cum— y/n— shit,” quinn huffed out between thrusts. she also felt the now familiar knots forming in her stomach, her release about to come.

his movements became sloppy as his release coated her walls, and at the same time, she painted his dick with her own.

they felt euphoric, quinn pulled out of her slowly, groaning as his dick came out of her.

y/n laid out on the bed panting with closed eyes, hearing the light flicker on from quinn’s connected bathroom.

she felt a wet towel meet her sensitive core, hissing at the feeling.

“sorry, just wanna clean you up first,”

y/n looked at quinn while he cleaned her with concentration, his body glistening with sweat and his messy hair slightly sticking to his forehead.

“thank you, quinn,”

y/n was breathless watching quinn go back into the bathroom, her chest still rapidly rising and falling. she felt herself grow more tired with each passing minute.

quinn came back from the bathroom with a different pair of underwear on, holding out a pair of his boxers to put on. y/n gladly accepted, slipping them up her body. she grabbed her bra from the floor, hooking it back on.

after she was partly dressed, he delivered her a sweet, soft kiss to her lips. different than any kind of kiss they had so far, this one was deep and loving; his hands gently cupping her face.

“stay with me,”

quinn’s proposition took her by surprise, thinking he was going to send her back to her room after all this, but no.

“quinn, i really shouldn’t, it’s not a good ide-”

“you and jack can figure your shit out later. as of right now, you’re mine.”

he was right and she knew it. he claimed her, and there was definitely going to be some kind of consequence for this. either way y/n and jack were going to have to figure their shit out, but to her, that was an issue for the morning.

“okay, i’ll stay.”

quinn smiled at her, planting a kiss on her forehead. he peeled away at his thick blue comforter, leaving space for the both of them to crawl inside. y/n felt herself more comfortable falling asleep with quinn than she did with jack, whatever that meant. but she didn’t care. his body was tangled with hers, falling asleep to the soft beat of his heart.

pt. 2

——————————————————————————

© missqhughes

xoxo, kaia

[peachesofteal]

Simple Math / Part Six

Simple Math masterlist

Ghost/Soap/female reader 4k words - AO3 Warnings - tags: 18+ MDNI. No smut but this fic contains mature themes. Nurse reader, hospital setting, medical inaccuracies. Reference to past domestic violence. Angst. Alcohol. Crying, anxiety, panic. Johnny in distress. Johnny is still a menace. Soft dads. POV switches. Note: Safe sleep for infants always. I do not endorse sleeping with your baby in your bed. This is a fic not real life. Simon does some digging.

“Shhh now, ye’re alright.”

Johnny coos, Penny cradled up to his chest. He’s not wearing a shirt, eyes still half sealed shut with sleep, and she squalls in his arms, screaming as loud as her little lungs will allow. “What is it, mah wee lamb? Are ye hungry? Do ye need a change?” He checks her nappy, efficiently looking for a mess or something to clean up and is nearly disappointed when he finds her still dry. If it’s not her nappy, then maybe her stomach? Could she be hungry again? He thumbs through the notes on his phone to find Simon’s last entry: 23:20 – 50 ML. 

That was only an hour ago. 

He frowns, walking in a circle, bouncing her gently, trying to settle her back to sleep. She’s so tiny, and still has grown so much in just the short time since they brought her home. It amazes him. It terrifies him. 

“What is it, sweet bairn? What’s got ye all upset?” He touches his lips to softest skin he’s ever felt, his thumb trying to swipe away the tracks of tears on her cheeks. “Please dinnae cry. I-“ 

“You okay?” Simon clears his throat behind him, and Johnny tenses. 

“We’re fine. Ye’re supposed to be sleepin’.” 

“Heard the two of you in here fussing. Thought I could help.” Simon’s trying to be supportive, trying to be a good partner, Johnny knows, but all he can feel is irritation, a defensive reaction making his hackles rise. 

It’s not fair. He’s so good at it. He’s a natural. And Johnny… Johnny feels like he’s failing his own kid, when she’s not even a month old yet. 

“I dinnae need-“ 

“Hey.” Simon touches his elbow, and then his chin, tilting his face upwards. “I know you don’t, love. You’re doing a great job. It’s not your fault she’s having a rough go.” He soothes him, fingers kneading into the top of his spine, squeezing the nape of his neck and pulling him into his arms. Penny is still crying, but softer now, a low-pitched tone of misery that makes his heart ache, and he feels so overwhelmed, so helpless, staring down at her as she tries desperately to tell him what's wrong, the only way she knows how. He rests his cheek against Simon’s chest, melting into his hold, letting him wrap his arms all way around his waist. 

“She hates me.” Johnny grumbles, and Simon presses his mouth to Johnny’s temple in short, succinct kisses. 

“She doesn’t. She’s brand new. She can’t hate anything, yet, and certainly not her Da.” He strokes her cheek. “Let’s bring her to bed, see if we can get her down and then one of us can put her back in the crib, alright?” Johnny sighs. 

“Alright.” 

“What’re you doing after this?”

“Going to bed?” What else would you be doing?

“I’m thinking about going to Jackie’s for a drink… wanna come?” Nia untucks her scrubs, pulling the top up over her head.

“Jackie’s, huh?” You chew on your lip. You shouldn’t. You really, really shouldn’t. But… Jackie’s is a dive. It’s dark, and dingy, with black walls, black floors, no window in sight. And... it’s a hospital haunt. 

“It’s my birthday.” She whispers, casting a glance around the rest of the room. “I’m not… it’s not a thing, I just want to go, have a few to celebrate.” You take a deep breath. “Please?” She tacks on at the end, and your shoulders dip down in defeat.

“Okay. One. And then I gotta go.”

“Yes!” She cheers, excitement smashing her palms together.

Nothing like a seven am beer. 

Jackie’s is a distinct place. It’s one of the only twenty-four-hour liquor licenses left in the city, or so you’ve been told, and has been frequented by hospital staff for decades. It’s dart boards and dark wood floors, cheap beer and rail vodka, a worn to hell pool table, and an old, disabled juke box that someone broke intentionally, years ago. It’s an institution, and reminds you of some old places you used to frequent, when you weren’t… who you are now. Years ago, before, you used to love a good dive bar. Didn’t mind the way the floor stuck to your feet, and you considered yourself nearly tactical at darts. It was a source of pride, the accuracy, the rate at which you could make a bullseye, even when you were a few sheets to the wind.

“Coulda been a surgeon.” You’d tease, a smirk growing across your boyfriend’s face.

“If you were a surgeon, sugar, who’d be at home waitin’ for me after work?” He’d push back, coating the warning in an adoration, giving whoever was undoubtedly watching a slick smile before snaking an arm around your waist and tugging you close. “You don’t need to be surgeon. You don’t even need to work. You have me.” 

You thought you knew, then. Knew how to handle it, how to navigate the ever-present, ever-growing threat… but you were wrong.

You were so, so wrong.

“So, heard there’s a spot opening up on days.” Nia chucks her purse at the bar top, climbing onto the stool next to you. “You’ve got the seniority… you givin’ it any thought?” The bartender walks by with a hello, and you nod at him.

“Old Speck please. And no, I like nights.” She raises an eyebrow.

“Didn’t know Americans liked Old Speck.”

“We have it in the states. I didn’t live under a rock.” You quip, and she laughs before ordering her own poison, a choice that makes your own eyebrows shoot up in question. “Vodka on the rocks?”

“I’m a straight to the point kind of girl.” She explains. “So, no days?”

“No days. You?”

“I might. Night shift is kicking my ass.” She complains. “Don’t even know what day it is half the time. My rhythm is off.”

“You need like, at least six months to fully adjust.” You put a note down in exchange for your beer, and then the bartender scuttles away, distracted by some insistent woman at the other end of the bar.

“Six months?!” You’re about to launch into your spiel about how it’s not that bad when your phone vibrates in your pocket.

>Make it home from work alright? 

>It’s Johnny, by the way :) 

The two texts are the start of a new group chat with your number, Johnny’s number and the number you put in your contacts just yesterday… Simon’s. Your head jerks back on instinct, confused.

“You okay?” Nia asks, and you nod.

“Yeah, fine just…uh-“ She peeks over your arm, and giggles.

“Is that your patient? Two sixty-eight?”

“What?”

“Your patient. The military hottie. The one that’s always lookin’ at your bum.” Your face burns, and she tsks. “Ah, don’t be embarrassed. He’s smokin’. Wish he looked at me the way he looks at you.” You’re surprised at the flare of irritation that starts up in your stomach at her, a hot streak of jealously simmering there, burning away indignantly. “Aren’t they… I mean… isn’t the scary mask guy his partner?” He’s not scary, you scowl inwardly. He’s just… protective. The butterflies in your stomach startle, and you drift back to last night, in the stairwell, in the car.

“You’re doing great, sweetheart.” 

“If you ever need anything, Johnny and I… we’re here.” 

Nia says your name, dragging you back to earth, and you shrug. “Yes… they… they’re together. It’s just been hard on them, so I think there’s a bit of an attachment growing there. You know, it’s not unusual.” She bites her lip, mouth pushing up into a smile.

“They’re quite fit. Wouldn’t mind if they formed an attachment to me.” She pauses, delicately sucking her gasoline on ice up through a straw. “Gonna text him back?”

“Nia.” You hiss, and she barks out a laugh.

“Oh, come on, just a bit of fun. I don’t mean anything by it.”

“It’s not appropriate.” You remind her, and she rolls her eyes.

“You’re such a stick in the mud sometimes. Remember when Marshall was fucking his brain cancer girl? Now that, was not appropriate.” You do remember- Marshall’s sudden absence, the whispering, the HR investigation that spanned weeks, interviews with everyone on the floor.

Your beer goes sour in your stomach.

“I gotta get home.” You wrap an arm around her shoulder with a squeeze and a whisper. “Happy Birthday.” You feel bad for abandoning her, and maybe in another life you might even consider her a friend, but you’re already too exposed here as it is, and staying any longer would be too indulgent- not to mention, incredibly stupid.

You pass another nurse on the way out and him know that Nia’s at the bar, alleviating your guilt just a tad before you hike up your hood and make a beeline for the train.

By the time you get back to your hotel room, get showered, and collapse on top of the far too big bed, it’s nearly been an hour. You plug your phone in, unlocking the screen to flick on do not disturb, and realize the group message is still open, cursor blinking, waiting for your response.

It’s fine. You can tell you got home okay, that’s not crossing any lines. 

>Yeah, just got settled for bed. See you later!

A text from Simon chimes back within a minute, and you squint at it, one eye open.

>Get some rest.  

The floor is dead silent at the beginning of your shift.

Nothing beeps or whines or cries, no noise echoes around the corner to where you’re scrolling through Johnny’s chart, getting caught up on his day, triple checking that his levels and vitals are all within normal range. He passed his follow up for the liver procedure with flying colors, and the relief you feel is not unexpected, the weight of worry lifting free from your shoulders without another thought.

He’s fine, he’s better than fine, he’s… too healthy for the ICU.

Reality hits you like a truck, and you stop short, sneakers squeaking along the floor.

He won’t be your patient anymore. 

He won’t… be your patient anymore. 

The thought twists you into a mess of complicated emotions. A snarled, tangled viper's nest of unknowns, uncertainties, things you're desperately trying to tuck back behind your heart, hide them away so no one, not even yourself, can see them.

This is a good thing. This is what you want. Stable patients, on their way to recovery. 

So, you’ll miss them, that’s okay. There’s a little bit attachment, that’s alright. 

This is the best case scenario. You’re making a mess of things. You’re getting too involved with your patient and his family. You let Simon drive you home, for fucks sake. 

They’re getting confused, because you’re the caretaker. It happens all the time. As soon as Johnny steps down, they’ll forget all about you. 

You’re risking too much. You’re risking their safety, their child’s safety, your own. 

It’s for the best. 

You put your best work smile on when you approach his room, pulling as much air into your lungs as you can manage.

Focus on your job. Your patient. You’re a professional. 

Johnny is alone. No Simon, no visitors, nobody keeping him company. It’s a strange sight, and he looks almost uncomfortable, creased brow lowered down over his eyes. That’s… odd. Worse, there’s a heaviness in his gaze, sadness pulling his mouth downwards, usual playful demeanor nowhere in sight. Even sad, he’s a marvel, and every day, he gets stronger, he gets healthier, he gets closer to leaving this room, amazing you with his tenacity, his will. 

“Hey, you on your own tonight?” You casually knock on the door frame, and then pull it shut behind you, cocking your head.

“Aye.” He’s sullen, his despair tugging you closer to the bed, an urge to try to comfort him too strong to deny. 

“How are you feeling?” You try the subtle question, hoping he'll be forthcoming, and you keep yourself composed as you wait for his answer. 

“’m alright.” You tab through his chart, glancing it over once more, if only to assuage your own anxieties, and then tap into his vitals. Everything looks good, last labs look great… so what’s going on? 

“Just alright?” His fingers flex in the blanket, tanned skin against white linen, picking at fibers and threads, unable to hold himself still. He looks like he’s going to burst open at the seams, explode inside this room, a ticking time bomb, just waiting for the end of the countdown.

A tear tracks down his cheek. “Johnny?” You step closer, close enough so your fingers graze his, trying to delicately let him know, you’re here. “Hey, hey. It’s okay. What’s going on?” The monitor beeps steadily in the silence, his chest depresses with a gust of air.

“It’s… it’s nothin’ bun. I’m jus’… I’m havin’ a bad day.”

“Want to talk about it? I hear I’m a pretty good listener.” You encourage, and his face twists.

“No, I- Ach. Aye, alright.” He shifts in the bed, and you hover in case he needs help, but he waves you away. “It’s… bein’ in here. I want to be wi’ my family. Penny turned one, before I left for this assignment. Was only supposed to be two weeks tops, but then it turned into a month, then two. And now, I’m home… but ’m not really home, and I-“ His voice cracks, raw thread of agonized emotion separating his words, and he swallows it, forcing it back. “I’m blown to bits and cannae even see my own daughter. I’m missin’ out on everything.” Oh, Johnny. Your heart is heavy, and it hurts for him, bleeds as he wipes his face. 

“You’re not blown to bits, just a little banged up.” You give him a soft smile, and when he shakes his head, your fingers find his on instinct. You don’t even stop to second guess yourself, fully sinking into the contact with a gentle squeeze. “Hey, look at me.” His lashes are wet, sticky with tears, and he sniffles. “You’re making great progress, Johnny, going to be out of here in no time. You won’t even be in the ICU much longer, and then once you’re downstairs, Penny will be able to come visit all the time. After that, it won’t be too much longer until you’re back home with them.” He nods, and you stroke your thumb across his knuckles.

“Ye think so?”

“You’re the toughest patient I’ve ever had, and I’ve had a fair amount, you know. Traumatic injury recovery takes time, it takes patience, but you’re doing a great job of it so far. You just have to take it one day at a time. Before you know it, you’ll be at home on your own couch, bossin’ Simon around all day instead of me.” He laughs at that, a throaty chuckle capable of spreading heady warmth through your veins, and then gives you one of those stupidly stunning smiles.

“Shouldnae be cryin’ in front of ye.”

“You can cry in front of me any time you want. That’s what I’m here for. Besides, it’s not the first time.” You tease and he rolls his eyes.

“Doesnae count. I was high.”

“Uh huh. Sure.” The untouched dinner tray on his side table catches your eye, and chilling worry reappears in the back of your mind. “You didn’t eat?”

“Didnae have an appetite until ye showed up, pretty girl.” Okay. You can remedy this easily, if he's interested in eating. Lack of appetite is alarming, but if you can get him to eat now... 

“You hungry? I haven’t eaten yet. Want me to grab you something?” He brightens, indulging in a spectacular smile, and you take it as a yes with a small laugh. “Alright. Let me run down to the café, yeah?”

“What’s that saying, about how I hate to see ye go, but love to watch ye leav-“

“Okay!” you practically shout, cutting him off, fire racing across your skin, and he snickers, palm pressing against his heart like he’s wounded. “I’ll be right back.” You give him a serious look, and and he rubs his palm through his hair, mirth sparkling in his eyes. Holy hell. How is he so attractive? And how is it still so blinding, every time?  

You get two of the only option left this late in the evening, chicken soup and some sourdough, balancing the bowls carefully on their trays until you’re placing them down in the room, swinging the little table over Johnny’s lap and settling in beside him, perched on Simon’s recliner. The soup is warm, spiced with herbs and thick with noodles, and you're pleased that it's better than you were expecting, happy that Johnny seems to like it as well. 

"Wanted to take ye out properly for our first date, but this will have ta’ do. Simon’s gon’ be so bloody jealous.” He masterfully hums between your bites, and your eyes go wide, trying and failing to swallow your soup instead of choking on it.

“Johnny, we… this… I- this isn’t a date!” you squeak.

“Why not?” He asks, inflection innocent, and your brain rattles around inside your skull, splitting down the middle, falling apart in bewilderment. Why not? What does he mean?

“You… you have a partner. Simon? You know, your family that we were literally just talking about?” He doesn’t say anything, just stares at you with this look on his face, one you can’t interpret. “What? Why are you looking at me like that?”

“What did Simon tell ye, the other night. When he took ye home?”

“What? He… I don’t remember.” Does he know that Simon gave you his phone number? 

Of course, he knows, he started that group text. 

Does Simon know what Johnny said, about you coming into their lives? About-

“Didnae he tell ye, we’re here for ye?”

“Y-yeah.”

“We, bunny? We.”

“I don’t… I don’t understand.” He sighs. What is he trying to say? What is going on?

“We like ye. Like I said, we think ye’re really special. Simon, and I. Together, bun.”

“Wh-what?” Puzzle pieces snap together and then break apart, like a landscape jigsaw that you spent days completing once before it was promptly ruined. Does he... does he mean... Oh. Oh no. Oh no no no. You have to squash this. Now. Just explain it, he’ll get it. He’s smart. “No… no, Johnny it’s just… it’s this thing, that happens. Patients get attached to their nurses or doctors sometimes, it’s normal. You d-don’t like me, I promise. There’s nothing even to like.” He blinks, jaw grinding under stubble. If Simon’s stare feels like he’s reading your mind, then Johnny’s is like being pinned down in one place, unable to move. You’re paralyzed, and powerless, lost in the icy blue sea of his eyes, drowning with a hand sticking out above the crest of the surf, reaching for him.

“Why would ye say that? That there’s nothin’ about ye to like? Nothin’ could be farther from the truth.”

“I don’t… there’s not. It’s… I’m your nurse, Johnny. That’s all.” Sweat glosses the small of your back, slicking upwards to cover your spine, and your heart hammers, it beats, beats, beats- so loudly you’re sure the pulse point in your wrist is visible. “Johnny.” His name shakes from your lips, and he relaxes, gentle concern replacing the relentless intensity in his gaze.

“Shhh, hey. I’m sorry, I’m sorry, I didnae mean to upset ye.” You're still frozen, a statue, and he reaches for you, trying to grab onto your hand. The heat of his skin breaks you from the spell, and you force a robotic, bedside smile onto your face, scooping up your half empty bowl.

"It's okay." You need to get out of this room. Now. The walls feel too close, Johnny feels too close, everything is compounding on top of you, threatening to derail your entire life, ruin your plan. They cannot like you. They cannot care about you. They cannot show interest in you. You can’t let this happen. “I’ve gotta check on some other patients, okay? I’ll swing back your way in a bit.” You promise him, guilt eating you alive about running away, and when he gives you a sad smile, you almost lose your resolve.

“Alright, pretty girl. I’ll see ye later, then.” He murmurs, and you try not to trip over feet during your hasty exit.

Fuck. You’re so fucked. 

Simon and Johnny’s house is finally silent.  

Penny is down, safely tucked into dream world, her grainy grey-scale image flickering on the video monitor at Simon as he pours two fingers worth of bourbon into a glass.

Poor baby girl. His stomach twists. She put up such a fight tonight, hollering at the top of her lungs, standing up in her crib, working herself into an absolute state. He hates leaving her alone to cry, and on nights like this one, the only way she’ll close her eyes is if she’s being held, snuggled in Johnny's arms, or against Simon's chest. 

He’s a sucker, he knows. Doomed from the day she was born, but he can’t help it. Neither of them can. She’s their baby.

So, he doesn’t blame her for being so out of sorts. She always sleeps better when her Da is home. They both do.

His phone vibrates with a text, a short message from Johnny, and he scrolls through it, settling on the couch with his laptop, unopened email from Laswell blinking impatiently.

>She’s jumpy. Tired. Looks like she hasn’t gotten any sleep. Simon frowns.

> She manage to find a pair of panties for work today?

>Unfortunately. He can practically see the pout on Johnny’s lips, can hear the way he probably huffed and puffed when you first came into the room this evening, your hips swishing side to side, pretty smile on your face for him.

>I think I made her upset. Simon pinches the bridge of his nose. Johnny, love. Why can’t you listen? He takes a deep breath, trying to relax the worry that’s creeping up the back of his neck. 

Disagreements aren’t for text messages. They’ve learned that the hard way. 

>Take it easy for the rest of the night, then. She’s skittish. He shoots off the recommendation, and then pulls his laptop across his knee, clicking open the email from Kate.

Simon,  Your girl is a ghost. This kind of wipe work is professional level… are you sure she’s a nurse?  I’ve attached everything I could find, but it’s pretty scarce. The name you provided pulled a copy of her NHS nursing license, her taxes, an award she won at work last year, and a COVID vaccination record. No birth certificate, state identification, or public records of any kind, even after a global hand search. Nothing that even proves she exists or is an American except a sealed record from years ago in the states. It’s not accessible, even for me, which means it could be WITSEC, or a court ordered name change in relation to a domestic violence case. There are 18 states that seal those records to protect the victim, so she could be from anywhere. My gut says it’s probably the latter, which is why she doesn’t exist prior to.  You’ll notice on the vaccine record, she marked ‘unhoused’, and I couldn’t find any lease/rental agreements, sale records, or mortgages in her name.  I wish I had more for you, but she really is a bit of a puzzle. I’ll keep digging.  -K.L. 

There’s an unsettling rattle going off in the front of Simon’s skull. It’s a siren, a smattering of warning bells, and he swallows the rest of the bourbon in one go, embracing the burn that slides down the back of his throat.

Who are you, little bunny? And who are you running from? 

[ancientwastedlores]

Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

I’m a Loki girl through and through, but a recent The Boys rewatch kinda got me obsessed with Homelander, so I thought I’d write a quick little angst fic based on the Somebody Else x My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” mashup (which I have been playing non-stop by the way. My boyfriend has accepted this new way of life.)

Huge thanks to @blindmagdalena for encouraging me to write this! 

I haven’t written fiction in a while, so I hope this is good! ------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------

Homelander Only Breaks His Favorite Toys

Oh, here we go again. 

You put on a plastic smile while he holds your wrist in a death grip behind your back. 

The cameras flash incessantly, almost making your eyes water - whether that’s from the ache throbbing in your arms or the flashes, you can’t tell anymore. 

"Homelander! Are you going to cameo in A-Train’s multiverse movie!?"

"Homelander, is there a universe where you are A-Train!?" 

Homelander laughs, flashing his sharp pearly whites. He exudes charisma as he raises his hands to stop the line of questions. 

"I guess you’ll just have to catch the movie next week, boys!" 

He pulls you closer to him. "For now, the missus and I have to make it Vought for the premiere!" 

With a flourish, he flips his cape like the showman he is and then holds you as he launches, leaving the reporters in the dust. 

You feel your tears trail behind you as he whisks you to the penthouse. Normally, New York looks bejeweled from this incredible height. Tiny dots of lights up and down the massive steel and glass buildings. At this height, life is erased. Humans are erased. It’s tall shapes and big shadows, like an unfinished rendering of a video game. 

You’ve always loved flying, but you suspect you’re in for a hard time once your feet touch the marble floors in the penthouse.

------------------------------------------------------------- 

Homelander stayed silent for hours after getting home. You decided to bake him some banana bread - his favorite - and whip up a good old-fashioned chocolate milkshake. The scent of it usually makes him forget whatever he was angry about, but it doesn"t seem to be working right now. 

He paces the room, his rich red cape trailing behind him in the most dramatic way. Homelander has his theatric tendencies, and you have learned to indulge them. 

Even when the cost is high. 

"What’s wrong?" you ask despite your better judgment. 

"What could possibly be wrong? You’re the Jackie Kennedy to my John Kennedy. What could be wrong about that?" he snaps. 

"John…" 

"Why you?" he asks. "Why you and not me?" 

"Me BECAUSE of you, John; they wouldn’t care about me if I weren’t dating you!" 

He heaves, his eyes red without the aid of a laser. His chest rises and falls as his brain scrambles for a response. He is angry; no, he wants to be angry. He just wants something to rage about. 

He isn’t actually angry that the reporters swarmed the two of you and bombarded you with a hundred questions before paying attention to him. After all, the questions were about him. What’s he like as a boyfriend? What’s the cutest thing he’s done for you? Have you ever worn the cape? Would you ever be in a movie with him? 

No, there"s something else. You’ve given up trying to dig deep and find meaning in his outbursts because, more often than not, you get it wrong. Some obscure random thing might have happened 5 minutes or 5 years ago and he seethes about it before calming down. 

This is life now. 

"Are you actually mad at me?" you ask. "I won’t leave this penthouse if you don’t want me to." 

He laughs - a sarcastic, painful one. You’re all too used to this. 

Homelander looks you up and down as if scanning you. Assessing you. As if asking himself what you mean for his approval points and how you look on his arm. 

You are by no means perfect, but Homelander loved that about you. He never lied that you were the hottest one he’d been with or even the most intelligent. But he loved that you loved him. He loved that you forgave his outbursts and allowed him space to throw a tantrum or brood silently. 

He loved that you were patient with him, which is more than anybody had ever been with him. But he often tested that, too. 

"You know what, I think I'll do this premiere alone. I wouldn’t want you to feel out of place in such a big crowd." 

That stings. You’ve never been a showman or particularly extroverted, but you wanted to try. For him. And you thought you were getting pretty good at it, too. 

But you nod. There’s no use in arguing. 

Clearly, though, he isn’t done. "I mean, I know you hate putting yourself out there, and you end up a nervous wreck after these events. I don’t want to spend the night taking care of you." 

"Sure. I understand." 

Somehow, your neutral, bland response does not anger him. For some funny reason, it relieves him that he doesn't have to fight with you to get what he wants. 

He turns on his heel and exits the house without another word. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

You exit the shower and spot the dress you were going to wear for the premiere. In typical Homelander fashion, he wanted you to match his colors rather than A-Train's colors. This was A-Train's night, but he'd be damned if you wore anyone else's aesthetic on your body. 

It’s a red-white-and-blue dress with a dramatic, asymmetrical neckline and fitted bodice with sparkling red and blue sequins transitioning into a voluminous, flowing skirt. Homelander picked it and got it tailored just for you. He knew the parts you were insecure about and made the designer alter the dress to ensure you felt your best. The poofy ball gown style skirt hid your ass, which you didn’t like the shape of. The neckline softened your broad shoulders, which you always felt made you look too masculine. But Homelander made sure the neckline didn’t hide your neck and collarbones, which you loved. 

You touch the rich satin fabric, your heart aching. You were so excited to show this dress off, hanging on to his arm as he flashed his charming, boyish smile. You consider wearing it, even if it's just to clean the kitchen, but decide against it. It would hurt too much. 

You put on a clean pair of sweats and potter to the kitchen. Pouring yourself a glass of wine, you decide to just watch the live broadcast of the premiere and make do with that. 

Three hours pass - you’re asleep on the couch at this point with the TV still running. The premiere ended, and now the channel is playing clips of all mentions of the multiverse in all the past movies. You’d watch if you weren"t so emotionally exhausted. 

A click of the front door wakes you, and through blurry eyesight, you see a smudge of red-and-blue enter. You prop yourself up and rub your eyes sleepily. 

"Hey." 

He sounds like he’s in a jolly mood. 

"Hey," you say back. "How was the premiere?"

"I missed you…" he says, voice dripping with sincerity. 

"I missed you too…" you bring your arms up as if inviting him to cuddle. 

You know he had a miserable time without you. He fucks things up for himself and comes back like a baby in need of consolation. 

Sure enough, he makes his way to the couch, where you’ve created a little nest of fluffy pillows and blankets, and practically falls onto you. You wrap your arms around him as tightly as you can while he buries his nose in your neck. 

"So. Is the movie every bit as terrible as you thought?" you ask, knowing he’s in the mood to shit-talk A-Train. 

"Worse," his voice comes muffled. "Terrible. Horrible. Garbage." 

You laugh and push him lightly so you can have an audible conversation. "Tell me about it." 

"It baffles me the bullshit Vought comes up with. So pointless and bland and unnecessary. And A-Train was eating it right up. Lapping up every last bit of praise like a fucking dog."

"A-Train looked lost in the spotlight. He cannot handle it like you do," you say. "Nobody does." 

A giddy smile crosses Homelander’s face. You pinch his cheeks lightly and then run your fingers through his perfect blonde hair. "Do you want to watch something half-decent and doze off on the couch?" you ask. 

"No… I want you to put that dress on so I can fly us to dinner."

You look at him, your heart twisting painfully in your chest. His boyish grin is disarming, softening your resolve just like it always does. You want to say no. You want to tell him you’re too tired, that the emotional whiplash of his moods has wrung you out like an old sponge. 

But you know that’s not what he wants to hear.

You force a smile instead. "Sure.”

You stand, your legs unsteady, as you head to the bedroom to slip on the dress. It feels heavier now than when you first tried it on. Maybe you’re tired. Maybe it’s just your mind playing tricks. 

You catch your reflection in the mirror. The dress is stunning—perfect, even. He had it made for you, tailored to his vision of you. But when you look at yourself, you see the hollow shell of the person you used to be. You see someone who bends and folds and breaks under the weight of his love.

You hear him calling from the living room, impatient. "You ready yet? You’re gonna knock 'em dead."

You close your eyes, gripping the edge of the dresser until your knuckles turn white. No, you cannot leave him. He needs you, and he doesn"t mean to be mean. He’s trying to make up for it, isn’t he? Stop being such a sensitive, emotional baby. Get the fuck out there and let him show you how sorry he is.

You enter the living room, the satin catching the light and making you look almost ethereal. Homelander is stunned by his own creation. 

"Gorgeous. Fucking perfect." 

You smile and do a little twirl, feeling like the most beautiful girl in the world. 

He rises from the couch, his cape draped dramatically over one shoulder, and strides toward you like a man who owns the world because he does. "You’re my queen. The only one who can keep up with me."

Yes, but do you want to? Or do you want to slow down a bit? Savor the small moments and not spend your life waiting for the next attack? 

You can do nothing but kiss him. He pulls you close by the waist and almost devours you in his frenzy. Waves of emotions crash over you, voices urging you to both switch off your brain and get far away from the broken man. 

How much more of this can you take? He will make it his mission to find out.

He pulls away and flashes his pearly whites. "Ready to lift off?" 

"Abso-fucking-lutely" you smile back. 

------------------------------------------------------------- 

The restaurant is one of the most exclusive in New York—floor-to-ceiling glass windows that overlook the city, tables spaced far apart to ensure privacy, and a waitstaff so attentive it’s almost suffocating. Homelander loves it here. Not because of the food, though it’s excellent, but because everyone here knows who he is. They don’t gawk or ask for autographs, but you can feel their reverence in every stolen glance, every hushed whisper. He thrives on it.

You sit across from him, the candlelight bouncing off the sequins of your dress. He's been in an unusually good mood since you arrived, and for a moment, you let yourself believe tonight might actually be different. He's been complimenting you all night, his eyes lingering on yours in a way that makes you feel like you're the only person in the world.

“See?” he says, leaning back in his chair with a self-satisfied grin. “I knew this dress was the one. Look at them.” He gestures subtly to the other diners, some of whom are clearly trying not to stare. “They’re jealous. You’re the most beautiful woman in the room.”

You smile faintly, murmuring a soft “thank you” as you sip your wine. It’s moments like this that make staying feel worth it. But then, as always, the warmth starts to curdle.

The turning point is subtle. It always is. He starts picking at his food, his jaw tightening ever so slightly. You can tell something’s shifted. You don’t know what triggered it this time—maybe it was the waiter who smiled a little too warmly at you or the couple at the next table who didn"t acknowledge him quickly enough.

“Do you think they’re staring at me or you?” he asks suddenly, his tone sharp enough to cut glass.

You blink, taken aback. “What?”

“I mean, they’re obviously looking at me,” he continues, his voice low and dangerous. “But you’re the one soaking it up, aren"t you? Sitting there like some fucking… princess.”

The words hit like a slap. “John, what are you talking about?”

He leans forward, his eyes narrowing. “You love this, don’t you? The attention. The glamour. The fucking dress. You think it’s all for you.”

“Of course, I don’t,” you say quietly, trying to keep your voice steady. “I came here because you wanted to. I’m here for you.”

“For me,” he repeats mockingly, his lips curling into a sneer. “That’s rich. You think I don’t see the way you look at them? Like you’re just waiting for someone better to come along. Someone who doesn"t scare you.”

“That"s not true,” you whisper, but your voice sounds hollow even to your own ears. You glance around nervously, hoping no one is listening. Of course, they are. Even if they can’t hear the words, they can feel the tension radiating off him like a live wire.

Somewhere, you blame yourself for enabling this behavior. Your timidness… your eagerness to please… your avoidance of conflict… it feeds him. If it were Starlight or Stormfront or anybody else, they would stand up to him and draw a boundary. And that’s what he needs - not a timid, sniveling fool who would bend over backward to play into his fantasies. 

He laughs bitterly, almost as if he agrees with your thoughts, and leans back in his chair. “You know what"s funny? You’re so scared of me, but you’re the real monster here. You just sit there, pretending to be this sweet, innocent thing, and you judge me for every little fucking thing I do or say.”

“I don’t judge you,” you protest weakly, your hands trembling in your lap. “I—”

“Save it,” he snaps, his voice rising just enough to make heads turn. “You’re just like everyone else. You love me when I’m the hero, but the second I let my guard down, you look at me like I’m some kind of freak.”

“John, please,” you beg, your voice barely above a whisper. “Can we not do this here?”

“Why not?” he says, his smile cold and cruel. “You embarrassed me at the premiere, didn’t you? Couldn’t even be bothered to show up. Do you know how pathetic that made me look?”

“I was just respecting what you asked of me. And I thought you said you missed me,” you say softly, tears stinging your eyes. 

“Yeah, well,” he says, waving a hand dismissively. “What do I know, right?.”

The rest of the dinner passes in a blur. He doesn"t apologize. He doesn"t even look at you. You pick at your food, your appetite long gone, and force yourself to smile when the waiter comes by to clear the plates. You feel like you’re suffocating, the weight of his words pressing down on your chest like a boulder.

When the bill comes, he doesn"t even glance at it. He tosses his card onto the table and leans back in his chair, looking more like a king about to call for an execution. 

“Ready to go?” he asks casually, as if nothing happened.

You nod, your face carefully blank. “Of course.”

------------------------------------------------------------- 

He flies you back to the penthouse in silence. The city lights blur beneath you, but you barely notice. Your mind is racing, your heart pounding. You know what you have to do. You’ve known for a while now, but tonight was the final straw.

When you land, he kisses your cheek and tells you he’s going to shower. “Don’t wait up,” he says with a wink, and then he disappears down the hall.

You wait until you hear the water running before you move. You slip out of the dress and back into your sweats, your hands trembling as you pack a small bag with just the essentials. You don’t know where you’re going yet—maybe a hotel, maybe a friend"s place—but you know you can’t stay here.

As you zip up the bag, you glance around the penthouse one last time. It feels empty, like a stage set after the actors have gone home. You think of all the times you convinced yourself this was enough. That he was enough. That you could fix him if you just loved him hard enough. And he would love once you fixed whatever was wrong with you. 

But you can’t. You know that now. He needs someone stronger. 

Braver. 

You leave the dress draped over the back of the couch, a silent goodbye. Then you slip out the door, the sound of the water still echoing in the distance.

For the first time in what feels like forever, you don’t look back.

------------------------------------------------------------- 

It happens on the fourth night. 

You"re staying at a hotel under an alias, the type of place he wouldn"t normally stoop to visiting. You"ve been trying to keep your head down, trying to breathe for the first time in what feels like years. But deep down, you knew it wouldn"t last.

When the knock comes at the door—sharp, insistent—you freeze. Your heart hammers in your chest. You don’t have to check; you already know it’s him. You’ve been bracing for this moment since the night you left. And honestly, he took longer than you expected. 

Still, when you open the door and see him standing there, you’re not prepared. He looks almost unhinged, his hair slightly mussed, his eyes blazing with something between fury and heartbreak. His red cape is gone, but the suit clings to him like a second skin. 

“I found you,” he says, his voice soft, almost tender, but there’s a dangerous edge underneath it. “Of course I did.”

You step back instinctively, your hands gripping the edge of the door. “How did you—”

“Don’t.” He pushes the door open with ease, stepping inside like he owns the place. “Don’t ask me stupid questions. You really thought you could hide from me? Me?” He laughs, but there’s no humor in it. “Come on, sweetheart. Give me more credit than that.”

“John…” you start, but he cuts you off, pacing the room like a caged animal.

“You left,” he says, his voice rising. “You just walked out. No note, no call, nothing. Do you know what that did to me? Do you have any idea?”

Your chest tightens. “I needed to.”

“Bullshit.” He spins to face you, his expression twisting with anger. “You didn"t need to do anything. You chose this. You chose to hurt me. After I rescued you from a pitiful existence and made something of you. Little Y/N wanted to be a writer but had no time. I rescued you from your shabby little apartment and gave you everything. Time. Money. Luxury. And this is what I get.” 

“I wasn’t trying to hurt you,” you say quietly, but your words only seem to inflame him further.

“No?” He stalks closer, his voice dripping with venom. “Then what do you call this? Running off in the middle of the night like a fucking coward? Hiding in some fucking run-down rat-shit hotel like you’re afraid of me?”

“I AM afraid of you,” you admit, the words tumbling out before you can stop them. His face freezes, a flicker of something almost like pain crossing his features before the anger returns.

“You’re afraid of me?” he repeats, his tone incredulous. “I’ve protected you. I’ve given you everything. Everything you asked and didn’t ask for. You sound so fucking ungrateful. I loved you.” 

The words hit like a slap. You take a step back, shaking your head. “That's not love, John. That's control.”

“Don’t,” he snarls, his voice trembling with fury. “Don’t you fucking psychoanalyze me right now. I loved you. I still love you. And you—” he can’t stop his maniacal laughter. He wags his finger at you. “You!” 

Tears well in your eyes, but you refuse to let them fall. “I just think this isn’t meant to be.”

“Oh, you’re a fortune teller now?”

“John…” 

“Such a fucking saint, aren't you, saving us all from unhappiness. Or…” he smiles. A dangerous smile. “There’s someone else!”

The question knocks the breath out of you. “What?”

“You heard me,” he says, his voice low and deadly. “There’s someone else, isn’t there? Is that why you left? Did you find someone who makes you feel all warm and fuzzy inside? Someone who doesn"t scare you?”

“No,” you say, your voice breaking. “There’s no one else.”

“Then why?” he demands, his voice rising again. “Why did you leave me? Why did you—”

“Because it’s not love!” you scream. The first real, raw emotion you allow yourself to feel in forever. 

Homelander almost looks proud of you for it. 

“You keep being cruel to me. You keep saying horrible things, and I get it; I'm not intelligent or gorgeous or fucking V'd up like your other girlfriends, but GOD. Why are you with me if you hate me so much?” 

For the first time, you see Homelander shocked. “What? I don’t… I don’t hate you; what the fuck are you talking about?” 

You laugh in resignation and wipe your tears with the neck of your sweater. “Homelander, I’m not the one for you. I’m done.”

“You’re done? YOU are leaving ME?” 

He stares at you, his chest heaving, his hands clenched into fists at his sides. For a moment, neither of you speak. The silence is deafening. He’s confused that you think he hates you and cannot fathom why you would believe that. He gave you everything. In what universe is that hate? 

“I gave you everything,” he says, more to convince himself now, his voice raw. “I’m the best thing that ever happened to you.”

“I’m sorry,” you say again. Part of you wants to desperately say you want to be back together when things are better. When you are stronger, and he is kinder. You want to believe that once you fix you, he will miss you. He will return and be so much nicer. Softer. 

But you know that time may never come. 

Just at this moment, Homelander wishes his powers had allowed him to read minds, too. Your face inscrutable, he has nothing to latch on to. He looks at you like you’ve just plunged a knife into his chest. For a moment, you think he might lash out, that he might destroy the entire block in a fit of rage. 

But instead, he takes a step back, his expression crumbling.

“You’ll regret this,” he says, his voice barely above a whisper. “You’ll miss me. You’ll see.”

You nod, tears streaming down your face. “Maybe I will.”

He stands there for a moment longer, his fists clenching and unclenching, his jaw tight. Then, without another word, he turns and leaves, the door slamming shut behind him.

You collapse onto the bed, your entire body shaking. The weight of the confrontation crashes over you. Hot tears finally gush out as you clutch your pillow and sob quietly, knowing Homelander can still hear you. 

This isn’t over. Not yet. He will forever stalk the edges of your life, watching. Waiting for you to need him. 

You know Homelander well enough to know he doesn't let go of his toys without a fight.

------------------------------------------------------------- 

[lovecla]

IF YOU LOVE ME, LET ME KNOW | jack hughes.

chapter four:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ warnings: angst, jealousy, insecurities

➴ word count: 3.9k

➴ author’s note: this is a mess, soph and jack are a mess, quinn’s a sweetheart, grace’s funny af and i’ve reached 100 followers today. can’t even describe how happy i am with the attention IYLM,LMK is getting. i adore u all so much and i hope u stick with me for a while. prepare your seatbelts because shit is about to hit the fan. :,)

SOMETHING changed between you and Jack that day at the Skims set, a week ago.

You finally realized that you are, very much, in love with Jack Hughes. Which was something that you never, in a million years, would’ve guessed. Because, what; you told yourself you’d never get your heart shattered again, yet here you were, walking straight (and worse: willingly) into a trap, falling in love with the man whore of the Devils team.

Despite all of the mean things your mind wanted to tell you, you just forced yourself to remember that not every man is like your cheater ex boyfriend and that not every man would completely crush your heart and tear it apart.

And even though you wouldn't put your hand on the fire and say that he felt the same way as you, if he didn’t, that man was good at pretending. Because no way in hell he’d take all of his fuck buddies to their family lake cabin to throw a Halloween party.

“This is crazy, Jack, you are in the middle of the season, and I’m in the middle of releasing something…” you started, watching as the car took a turn. “Also, how the fuck did you manage to organise a party in, like, thirty minutes?”

“Uh. I’m literally a NHL player. What did you expect?” He scoffed, so full of himself it was almost impossible to stand. You rolled your eyes. “And it’s just a night. I’m not screwing everything up for having fun for one night only, baby, and neither is you.”

“I guess you’re right.” You mumbled, answering some texts messages on your phone.

“I’m always right.” You rolled your eyes again, watching as he drove with ease. “What are you wearing tonight?”

“My fans have been dying for me to dress up as Rapunzel, so I might as well please them.” You shrugged, locking your phone and putting it on your pocket.

“I don’t know about them but I am definitely pleased with the idea.” He smirked.

“You’re just horny, Hughes. Happens to the best of us.”

“Or you’re just pretty. Happens to some of us.”

You laughed, cheeks warm and heart beating fast. “You’re a flirt, Jack Hughes. I missed that. Is it always this crazy during the season?”

“Like you can’t even imagine. My life is just games, working out, eating plain shit and practice for seven months straight.”

“And you love every second of it, don’t you?”

He smiled, white teeth making the view seem a whole lot brighter. “I do, yes. It’s like… the only thing that makes me feel truly alive.”

“Yeah, I know what it feels like,” you whispered. “I feel like that when I’m on the stage too. It’s just… I don’t know. Makes me feel good.”

“I like seeing you on stage,” he nodded and you raised your brow. “What? I do, really. That concert I went to with Nico was fun. Besides, watching you dance with those little dresses of yours is something else.”

“Boo, you’re just an idiot!” You laughed. “But thank you, Jackie bear.”

“Sophia, Jesus, do not call me that,” he whined, but the smile was still on his lips. “Gross.”

“Okay, Jackie bear, whatever you want, honeypot.”

“Sophia!”

— ♡

THE cabin was packed with people, and you were amazed with how fast people arrived, even with the short notice.

You were waiting for Grace to finish getting ready— she would be wearing a Tiana costume, matching your Rapunzel one— so you both could go downstairs and enjoy the party.

“Jack’s going to have a heart attack when he sees you with that little skirt,” Grace said, while applying lip gloss on her plump lips.

“Yeah, about that… I might need to talk to you about something.” You started, crossing your legs.

She stared at you through the mirror, raising her eyebrows. “Go on, Pinky Pie.”

“I thought we’d established that I’m Twilight and you’re my Mordecai?” You giggled, making Grace laugh too.

“I guess we can pretend that airplanes in the night sky are like shooting stars…” she sighed. “Go on, then, baby. We don’t have all night.”

“So. I may or may have a thing for Jack. Actually, maybe more than just a thing. Think I’m in love, to be honest,” you waited to see her reaction, not expecting her to jump out of the vanity and start twirling around the room, making you laugh. “What are you doing?”

“Are you joking?” She looked at you like you’d grown a second head. “I just won two hundred bucks!”

Confusion took over your face. “What do you mean?”

“I told Nico that you’d be in love with Jack by the end of October and he said you’d be in love with him by the end of November, and since you confessed it now— perfect timing, by the way— I get my two hundred bucks!” She started dancing and jumping, like she wasn’t a nepo baby.

“Grace! What the hell, this is serious!” You raised your arms.

She sat back on the bed.

“Girl, no it isn’t. Just go to him and say: hey, buddy, here’s a secret not so secret: I’m in love with you.” She shrugged. “Just don’t sing the Airplanes song, please. That’s, like, our thing.”

“Grace, I— I can’t even— what the hell,” you wanted to run your hands through your hair, but you remembered that you were wearing extensions and a tiara. So you stick with biting your nails instead. “First of all, why the fuck would you and Nico bet on something like this? That doesn’t even make sense. Second, I can’t just go over there, call him and tell him I like him. That’s not how it works.”

“Well, Nico was the one who proposed the idea of betting so that’s on him!” She raised a finger. “And yes, that is literally how it works.”

“You’re forgetting that this is Jack Hughes. A guy who, apparently, can’t stay a week without a pussy and fucked every Jerseywoman who walked on God’s green earth.”

“Ew, don’t say that! You know my mom’s New Jersian…” she sighed, making a disgusted face. You smiled, apologetically. “Okay. I know that Jack’s past may not be the ideal background you want for your baby daddy but hear me out!”

“Baby daddy? What—”

“Jack hasn’t touched anyone else since you guys started… well. Fucking.” She blushes, like she wasn’t calling him your baby daddy not even a minute ago. “And he’s a great, great person. I’ve seen how he looks at you and if that man isn’t in love, then I’m white as a sheet of paper.”

“I don’t know,” you mumbled, feeling frustrated. “Harris also seemed like a great guy, and when we got together, everything changed. I don’t want to go through that ever again.”

“I know it hurt, and God knows I’d rather mop the entire ocean than to see you like that again,” she scooched closer, grabbed your hands and pressed her lips together, the REM Beauty lip gloss making her lips look magical. “But you have to give yourself that chance again. It’s been more than a year, and I’ve seen you and Jack together.”

“I know that, but—”

Grace clicked her tongue, a tsc reverberating on the bedroom walls.

“I’m telling you this as someone who isn’t inside that little head of yours,” she whispered, holding your hands tighter. “You and Jack together? Girl, that’s meant to be. That’s like Achilles and Patroclus, Romeo and Juliet, Hazel and Gus—”

“Girl, what the hell, can’t you find a couple who at least one of them is still alive?” You scoffed.

“Sorry, I just love depressing stories…” she apologized before starting talking again. “That’s not the point, anyway, Miss Girl and you know it! Fuck whatever your head is telling you, Soph: you deserve to be loved and you deserve to love.”

“I didn’t say I love h—” she put a hand over your mouth, interrupting you.

“You don’t have to. I know you, Soph, and the look you get on your face whenever you talk to him, or even better, talk about him, is enough for me,” she kissed your cheek, quickly wiping the lip gloss stain on your face. “And let me tell you a secret, honeybun, he has the same look on his face.”

You smiled, cheeks carmesim and heart full. Thanking Grace for saying all of this wasn’t enough, you needed to buy her a house on the beach with a very naked Nico Hischier inside of it. Maybe that’s what you were going to do.

If only you knew how to convince Nico to be naked at a beach house, you’d certainly—

Someone knocked on the door, and you both got up, surprisingly fast, remembering that you were not alone and that there was a whole party happening downstairs.

Opening the door, you faced Jack who looked way too hot with his own jersey. Of course he’d be wearing a Jack Hughes, NHL Player costume. Of fucking course.

“You were taking too long up here so I came to check on you but maybe we’ll be here for a bit longer.” He smirked, hands finding your corset-covered waist instantly.

“Hum—”

“Excuse me, Mr. I-can’t-keep-myself-in-my-pants, I’m still here.” Grace yelled behind you, and you watched as his entire face showed his annoyance.

“Yeah, I can see. Feel free to leave, though,” he rolled his eyes, holding your right hand and twirling you around. “You look so pretty, baby.”

Your entire face felt like a fireplace but you still smiled nonetheless. “Thank you.”

“You both are disgusting, excuse me,” Grace walked past the both of you, mumbling something about checking in with her husband.

“Let’s go.” He offered you his hands, which you promptly held.

Going downstairs, you were surprised with how full the house was. Like, there were at least fifty people there, which seemed insane for a cabin, no matter how large it was.

Jack dragged you around, saying “hi” to every person you walked by, true to his NHL playboy persona. To your amusement, some people also acknowledged you. Mostly some girls and a few guys. It was nice.

“Sophia!” You heard a shout and immediately knew who it was. Trevor Zegras, wearing a pirate costume, which was just an excuse for him to be shirtless, really. One of the most annoying people you’ve ever met. Truthfully. “Damn, I’d climb that tower for you.”

You rolled your eyes. “I’d push you down that shit, Zegras, fuck off.”

Jack laughed softly beside you, moving until you were both sitting on the couch. Quinn, Luke, Nico, Grace and Zegras were all there, talking with a few people you didn't know the name of.

“You can't say you don’t like me without trying me first.” Trevor suggested, looking directly at your face. You showed him your middle finger.

“No one wants to try you, Zegras, now fuck off,” Jack stated before sipping on the beer he stole from Luke, who was dressed as a cooking chef. Or at least that’s what it looked like.

“See, this is why Quinn’s my favorite Hughes,” he mumbled, smiling at Quinn. “Anyway, Soph knows where the heat’s at.” Pointing at himself, Zegras moved on to the girl on his right, who seemed awfully pleased to be his second option.

“Asshole.” You heard Jack mutter under his breath and you giggled, amused.

“Be nice. He’s just… in heat, I guess,” you shrugged, already used to Zegras’ comments. Every time you saw him, he had something new to add to the list. Usually, you’d tell him to fuck off, and he would.

“He’s a pain in my ass, that’s what he is.” Jack bickered, pouting like a ten-year-old child. You found it cute.

“Poor Jackie, huh?”

“Shut up, Soph.” He smiled, blue eyes bright and kind.

Now that you knew what those backflips your heart did every time you saw him smile meant, it was much harder to control them.

Confessing to Jack would break the no-strings-attached arrangement that you both had silently made. It would meant either dating him and having your happily ever after (even if you hardly believed in those) or having your heart broken (again) by a really nice guy who just wanted to fuck you.

Besides that, you were both well-known people, especially you. You remember all too well when you were at home, chilling after a concert, and you got several texts from your friends and family, regarding a bunch of pictures of Harris kissing another girl at a bus stop station. A fucking bus stop station.

The situation dragged on for months, every time you’d post something, people would mention the fact that your ex was a cheater, you had been cheated on and that somehow you deserved to get cheated on; because of the things you sang, because of the clothes you were. Just a shit show with an even shittier audience.

“Hey,” you heard Jack’s voice beside you, and you turned your head around, looking at him. “Where'd you go?”

“Nowhere,” you smiled; it didn’t reach your eyes. Jack seemed to be ready to talk back when a girl— brunette with the greenest eyes you’ve ever seen— threw herself at his lap.

“Jackieeee.” She whined, kissing his cheek. “I missed you.”

You could tell she was a little tipsy, but even so, it made your stomach ache anyway. That ugly, shattering feeling of feeling like less than less came back, and it was as if you could feel the narrator of your story preparing himself to repeat the same shit again. Here’s Sophia again, the girl who likes to mistake butterflies for cardiac arrests.

“Hi…” Jack sounded unsure, something he rarely did. You looked at Grace, and she looked right back at you. Only then you realized that basically everyone was staring at you.

“You don’t remember me?” The girl sounded like she was pouting and you cringed. She was so close to you, sitting on his lap, that her left thigh was brushing against your arm. “That’s fine. I’ll make sure to be unforgettable this time, baby.”

“Wow, I think that’s it for me,” you muttered, getting up from the couch, moving to the kitchen without looking back. You knew that you’d throw up if you did; not because of Jack and Mrs. Unforgettable, but because of the pity stares you knew people were giving you. It sucked.

You also knew that if you stayed inside the house for too long, you’d end up drunk and pissed off. And you didn’t want that. So you did the only thing that you knew would put your mind in the right place again: going to the lake.

You walked outside, feeling the cold breeze hit your face and legs and arms and— everywhere, really. You should have worn a sweatshirt, but now it was too late to go back. You’d rather turn into a popsicle than to go back there and watch that again.

Sitting on the dock, you watched the lake in front of you, listening to the sounds of insects and trees moving. It was a nice view, but probably nicer in the summer. Right now it just looked like a Criminal Minds crime scene.

Lost in thoughts, you didn’t hear the steps coming from behind you. “You’re gonna get sick.”

Letting out a scream, you turned around, facing Quinn, who was wearing a pilot costume, with a scowl on your face.

“Sweet Jesus, Quinn, what the hell,” you put your hand on your barely covered chest, taking a deep breath. “Don’t you know how to, I don’t know, make noise while you walk?”

“I did that, actually, you just didn’t hear it,” he sat down beside you, handing you a Canucks sweatshirt. “Thought you’d get cold.”

You smiled, thanking him and putting it on, trying not to ruin your hair and makeup.

“Thank you, Quinn. That’s nice. Go Canucks!” You raised your hand, making a fist bump, hearing his soft chuckle beside you. You sighed. “I don’t know if you’re here to try to make me feel better or anything like that, but you don’t have to. I’m fine, really.”

“I’m just here because you needed a sweater and because it’s kinda creepy to be here alone. Nothing else, I promise.”

You looked at him, once again surprised with the Hughes men. But then, they were raised by Ellen, so you shouldn’t really be surprised.

You nodded, choosing not to say anything, just feeling the breeze on your face, a million thoughts in your head.

Now what? What would you even say to Jack? Hey, yeah, I know that when we started this we said that we didn’t want to fall in love but guess what! I’m in love with you.

And what would he even say to you? It wasn’t his fault he didn’t like you back. He’d probably say something like yeah, you fucked up our arrangement now I’ll have to find someone else to fuck every week. You were fun, though! and move on with his life.

And you’d move on with yours, just like you did before. The thing is, you didn’t want to move on again. You spent five years into your twenties trying to move on from things and it was tiring as hell. Moving on from broken friendships? Tiring. Moving on from toxic people? Tiring. Moving on from your cheater boyfriend? Tiring and humiliating.

You were pulled from your thoughts by Quinn throwing rocks at the lake, laughing when he couldn’t make them float like he intended to. He looked at you with that tired expression of his, and smiled back.

“Great album, by the way,” he blurted out of nowhere.

You frowned. “Thank you, I guess. Did someone leak it?”

“No,” he laughed, shortly. “Jack talked about it in our family group chat a while ago. Ma asked about you and he went on rambling about it, which was really funny. He was like, putting on his uniform before practice and recording a voice note at the same time, which he never does. And then he went full rambling about all of the songs and how shitty your ex was. Sorry about that,”

You looked at Quinn like he had grown two more heads, four more arms and five more legs. You had no idea Jack talked about your songs with his family. At all.

You wanted to ask more about it to Quinn so bad but you were kinda scared about what you were going to hear in response. Does Jack talk about me?

About you? Yeah, and a lot of other girls too.

“Sure,” you mumbled. “Yeah, Harris was a dick,”

“I liked some of his movies but now he’s banned from my watchlist forever.” Quinn announced like the statement didn’t make your heart break and mend at the same time, his tone calm and distant. “It’s good that you found something to channel your pain though. I do that a lot during my games.”

“Singing for me is like breathing. I’ve done it since I was, like, eight or even younger,” you nodded to yourself, looking at the stars above you. “This album means a lot to me, in a lot of ways. So thank you for telling me this.” You smiled, not sure if he could see it. He was also looking at the stars.

“Don’t need to say ‘thank you’. You have a gift, Sophia. I hope you know that,” he stretched himself, yawning and wrapping his arms around his middle. “I wish I could write songs but I suck at that.”

“Why do you sound like you’ve tried that already?” You smirked, fucking with him.

Or at least you thought you were, because Quinn went quiet, which confirmed your suspicions.

“What!” You looked at him, throwing your arms up. “Have you written songs before?”

“I was thirteen, okay? I just thought that maybe if I didn’t make it to the NHL, I could at least be a rapper or something.” He shrugged, again, which only made you start laughing. “I know, it’s funny. Thankfully, I made it to the NHL.”

“I don’t know, it’d be great to make a song with you,” you said, playfully, before realising something. “Oh my God, Quinn. That’s what I need!”

“What?” He smirked. “Make a song with me? I don’t think that’s a great idea—”

“No, not a song with you. Just a song. I need to write,” You nodded to yourself, getting up and fixing your skirt with your hands. “Do you think I could get a cab here? I came with Jack and I think he’s…” you bit your lip. Focus. Write the song; it will all be better. “Busy. And Grace needs to have her fun, too. She’s been working nonstop.”

“A cab? Soph, it’s like midnight,” he got up, too, standing in front of you. “I can take you home. It’s no biggie.”

“What? No! Enjoy the party! I’ll just try to catch an Uber or something.” You went to grab your phone, just to remember that you left it at the cabin. “Ugh, fuck, I need to go inside again.”

“I will take you home, no need for Ubers or anything like that. Just tell me where your things are and I’ll pick them up for you. I’ll talk to Grace on my way there.” He affirmed, walking with you towards the cabin, the loud music slowly filling up your ears again.

“That’s… so nice,” you breathed, more grateful than you’d like to admit. “Thank you, Quinn, seriously. I owe you.”

“It’s fine,” he replied, hands in his pockets. “Wait a second here, please.”

You did, and it wasn’t long until he showed up with your backpack, your phone and a very worried Grace beside him.

“Girl, what the hell?” She yelled, probably not even realizing how loud she sounded. “I’ve been looking for you like crazy and out of nowhere Quinn shows up with your stuff, saying he will get you home.”

“I have to write a song.” You reasoned, raising your shoulders.

Grace stared at you for what felt like forever, until she pressed her lips on your forehead and sighed. “Alright. I’m not even going to ask. Be safe, please, and remember that I’m only a phone call away.”

“Thank you, I love you.” You kissed her back, following Quinn on the way to his car, not bothering to look back.

Jack was probably busy anyway.

— ♡

HANDS around the guitar, you replayed the same melody you’ve been playing for five hours straight now.

You arrived home at one thirty in the morning, and even though you were awfully tired, you had to get the lyrics, the feelings, the emotions out of you. Fuck sleeping.

You offered your guest room for Quinn but he just shook his head, saying that he’d crash at his parents’. You made him call you when he arrived there so you knew he was safe, which he promptly did.

After that, you made yourself tea and sat in your home studio, writing obsessively. It had been a long time since the last time you had a song practically written in your head, and honestly, you couldn’t tell if that was good or not.

What you knew, though, is that now, five hours later, seven a.m. in the morning, you had a song. Bad for Business. You sent it to your producer and Grace before laying on your bed and drifting away immediately, the exhaustion taking over you.

[damiansgoodgirll]

hi girly i love your writing honestly i get so excited when i see you posted!

Can you do a damian priest x reader where reader goes for a night out with rhea and gets to drunk and damian comes to “save” her and is all protective. like reader asks “why do you care?” and damian is like “because i love you”

damian priest x reader (romantic) / rhea ripley x reader (platonic)

likes, comments and reblogs are always appreciated!!

‼️drunk reader, feels, a little angst and lot of fluff

monday night

“should we go right after the interviews?” rhea asked as you were finishing retouching your make up.

“absolutely” you smiled back “i think i’ll be done in thirty minutes, what about you?”

she looked at the clock and thought for a moment “probably twenty minutes, i have to finish some interviews with damian and then i’ll change…”

before you could reply, damian entered rhea’s locker room, definitely not expecting you there “rhea are you done? oh - hi y/n” he awkwardly smiled, making you chuckle.

“hi…” you blushed under his gaze.

you’ve always had a crush on him but you knew he saw you just as a friend. you tried to give him hints but he never seemed to understand or maybe he did but wasn’t interested. you couldn’t tell but either way, you got tired of waiting for him so even if it hurt, you were okay with being just friends with him.

“yes i’m done” rhea replied to damian “thirty minutes y/n, okay?”

“perfect, see ya!” you quickly excused yourself and met jackie for a quick interview.

rhea smirked seeing how damian reacted being in your presence and she couldn’t help but wonder when he was going to confess to you.

“what you girls doing in thirty minutes?” he asked, curiosity getting the best of him.

“oh, nothing, y/n wanted to try this club she saw on her way here and i’m going with her? you wanna come?”

he was honestly shocked. you weren’t for clubs. you always hated them and he knew so he didn’t understand why all of sudden you wanted to try a a club in a city you didn’t even know.

“no thanks…i’m going straight to the hotel after we finish our interview” he thought for a moment “plus, who goes to a club on monday night? it’s gonna be so boring…”

rhea scoffed “people who wanna have fun and not be bothered by too many people”

the older man laughed “okay, fair, let’s get this done so you can get ready and have fun with her…”

somehow, he was jealous of the close bond between you and rhea. you were amazing friends and it was thanks to her if he got the opportunity to meet you. he tried to spend as much time he could with you but it wasn’t enough. rhea was with you almost of the time so there wasn’t much time for him to spend with you alone.

rhea saw the side eye damian gave her and she knew she had to act quick because you were both two idiots in love and she couldn’t stand the glances and flirts you gave each other without realising that you both had feelings.

once you finished your interview, you ran back to your changing room and put on some clothes you brought for the club. nothing too excessive but you felt comfortable in that short dress you got. it was one of your favourites and you always looked for an occasion to wear it. pairing it with matching heels, you were done, ready for rhea who was taking longer - as usual.

as you walked towards her changing room, your eyes met with damian. shyly smiling, you waved at him.

you were breathtaking, the most beautiful person he’s ever seen “the dress looks good on you” he complimented you. he was genuine, you could tell it from his smile “rhea’s almost done, sorry we took so long with the interviews”

“thank you…” your face was heating up, not used to being complimented so often and especially not by the man you had a crush on “and no problem with that, i get, interviews can be long sometimes” as you were both speaking you saw rhea making her way out of her room.

wearing a black top and a black pair of jeans, boots and a black purse, she was more than ready.

“ready girl?” she smirked at you, making you nod your head.

“have fun girls” damian smiled - or at least, he tried. he walked with you to the parking lot before getting into rental and driving away, back to the hotel.

of course rhea had to pick metal music for the ride but you didn’t mind it as your mind was thinking of the latin man. you wished you had a closer bond with him, like him and rhea, or maybe even more but in your mind he was way out of your league. you saw the women he was interested in and none of them looked like you. those were models, tall and beautiful, and you were just, well, you. you knew that damian would never think of you like that but sometimes you wondered how it would feel like being loved by him.

you saw it with rhea. how caring he was towards her. how he cared for her, always making sure she was okay - especially since the judgement day broke apart - how he always texted her if she was okay or if she needed anything. you thought about the woman he would fall in love with one day and how lucky she was would be.

“…earth to y/n…” rhea snapped her fingers in front of your face trying to wake you up from your thoughts “are you here?”

“oh sorry, i was thinking…are we arrived?” you asked and she nodded.

seeing the parking lot loaded with cars, maybe this club was full seven days a week, you thought. making your way into the place, you were both met with the flashing neon lights and the disco music echoing inside.

a lot of people dancing and some at the bar, but it was nice and cool, no drunk men dancing and trying to catch girls attention, bodyguards securing the area. it wasn’t bad at all.

“i need a drink first” you laughed as rhea followed you to the bar as you both ordered some cocktails. rhea decided to stay light with her drink, knowing that she would have to drive you back to the hotel while you tried a vodka and tequila mixed cocktail. it was strong but not enough for you. you never really liked alcohol but tonight you were testing yourself.

“is it good?” rhea asked seeing how quickly you drank that.

“yup” you giggled “i’m gonna get another one and then we can dance?” you weren’t really waiting for an answer from rhea but she wasn’t expecting to see you getting a second drink in less than ten minutes.

once your glass was full again, rhea dragged you to the dance floor. maybe it was the music mixed with the taste of alcohol burning in your mouth but everything was spinning and you loved that sensation.

you couldn’t even tell how much time passed but your legs were feeling heavy. you needed to sit for a bit. rhea agreed and she pointed out a small booth at the end of the club.

“my feet are killing me” you laughed, exhaling trying to let go of your pain.

“i told you multiple times to not wear heels when you’re dancing…but you never listen” smirking, she pointed out at your red feet.

“yeah i know…” as you were both joking, a barista came to your both and offered you two shots of tequila.

“it’s on the house” she gently said before leaving.

“oh i can’t drink that or i’m not gonna be able to drive back” rhea said but she didn’t mind. she wasn’t a fan of alcohol, in fact she always tried to avoid it. you took both glasses and shoved them down your throat. feeling the burning sensation, not helping your head who was still spinning from before “okay girl, take my glass too, i guess” rhea laughed.

two shots and two cocktails later, you were now sipping wine as rhea blurted out how happy she was with jey.

your head was spinning, laughing from time to time.

“girl, you still with me?” rhea asked waiting for a reply but all that came out from your lips was a drunk laugh “y/n?”

“i’m okay…” you whispered.

not sounding so sure, rhea rolled her eyes “stop drinking that wine”

“i rather drink than face my problems…” you said looking everywhere but rhea.

“what problems?” she laughed. of course she knew anyone had problems but you never mentioned anything with her so she was pretty surprised to hear those words coming from your mouth.

you took a deep breath “damian…he’s my problem…i think i love him” you were sure you loved him.

rhea then got a big idea “stay here, and don’t drink your wine, i’ll go to the bathroom real quick”and in fact, she went to the bathroom, sending a quick text message to damian, knowing that if you needed help, he would be on his feet in less than ten seconds.

hey dam! i hope you’re still awake. y/n is drunk and i don’t think i’ll be able to bring her back to the hotel. can you come here and help me please?

as damian saw that text, he took less than five minutes to wear a pair of shoes and texting rhea for the address. rhea always told him how you weren’t much of a drinker so he got worried, fearing someone tried to get their way with you.

“where did you go?” you asked rhea with a disapproval look “you left me alone so i started talking about my problems with the barista…she offered me another shot” you pointed out at the empty glass in front of you.

rhea breathed “i called back up…we’re going back to the hotel…” she next to you.

only fifteen minutes away rhea spotted damian inside the building. waving at him she showed him where you were both sitting.

“rhea, what is he doing here?” you drunkly asked.

“you two need to figure out what you feel for each other…he’s gonna take care of you” she whispered as she saw damian approaching the two of you.

before you could contest her words, damian saw how lost your look was and eyed rhea, asking for questions but she simply shook her head.

“i called back up” she laughed seeing damian “thanks for coming” she greeted him as he nodded his head “he’s gonna help you…i’m gonna get back to the hotel”

damian was shocked with rhea’s words “wait what…you’re leaving?”

“yeah…that’s why i called you…you two, figure it out” she said before leaving.

as you both watched her leaving the club, you were wondering what did you have to figure out with damian. he was there just to help a friend - rhea, because she called him - and that was. nothing more.

he softly smiled at you “let’s get you into the car” as he gently helped you on your feet and guided you back to his car.

he made sure tu buckle your seat belt and he start driving. it was clear to anyone that you were drunk and he tried to drive cautiously, not wanting to make you sick.

“why are you here?” you asked, your eyes looking outside the window.

“rhea texted me…she was worried about you. you usually don’t drink and seeing you soo…drunk made her worry and honestly i worried too…” he spoke, his eyes still on the road.

“worried? you? worried about me?” you chuckled “why? it’s not like you care about me…we don’t even know each other that well…” you didn’t want to be so rude but your drunk thoughts were coming out and you didn’t know how to stop them.

damian was hurt by your words, but he knew that you were drunk and you didn’t mean what you actually said “i care about you…more than what you think” he whispered low just enough for you to hear it.

you heard his words, you just didn’t know what to say. you pretended nothing happened and he kept driving towards the hotel. once you arrived at the building, damian walked you through the long halls and reached for the elevator. you didn’t even notice that he pushed the bottom for his floor and not yours. you realised it only when you reached his room and you met with the welcoming feeling of his perfume and cologne.

“damian this isn’t my room…” you whispered as he sat you down on his bed.

“i know…i’m not leaving you alone tonight. you’re too drunk and if you get sick at least i’ll be here to help you” he said while throwing his shoes somewhere in the room.

was he serious? no - maybe he was just pitying you. he was doing this because rhea asked him, not because he really wanted. that was all your mind kept telling you while in reality damian wanted to take care of you. wanted to have you in his arms, cuddle you and making you feel safe. hell, he was going to hold your hair up in case you needed to throw up. and he never done that for anyone.

he sensed your hesitation “i meant it…what i say before, in the car, i meant every single word i said…” he said sitting next to you.

“but why?” your mind told you to stop asking him stupid questions and and savour the moment but your heart needed to know all the truth on my he was so caring with you. because, maybe, there was going to be a chance for you.

he gently cupped your face in his warm big hands and he smiled “because i have feelings for you. i love you and i always will…i care so much about you. and the fact that we are not even so close kills me because i never know if you’re okay or if you need help, if you’re happy or sad…i wanna be part of your life and i wanna be a part with being more than friends” his soft fingers stroked your cheeks making you lean into his touch.

“that’s all i’ve been waiting to hear…” you whispered. your confession surprising him. sure, you were drunk but not that drunk to say stupid things “i always liked you but i never thought you would like someone like me…”

“someone like you it’s all i want…you, it’s all i want…” he smiled, looking up at your eyes, searching for any sign of discomfort but when he saw none, he leaned his lips over yours “i wanna kiss you”

“i might smell like alcohol but i wanna kiss you damian…please” you almost begged, making him laugh.

you felt his hot breath over your lips, gazing and teasing before he gently lowered his head down and finally kissed you. he was soft with you, his hands moving from your face to your hips, holding you closer as your hands lost in his long hair.

you both separated to catch breath and as you were staring in each other’s eyes you realised how stupid you were. two idiots in love - as rhea often said - that couldn’t understand that they both had feelings for the other.

“stay here tonight and let me take care of you…” damian whispered making you nod your head “i told rhea that monday nights at the club can be boring…i can’t believe you got that drunk” he smirked making you chuckle.

“it’s gonna be a long night, my head is about to explode” you joked, throwing yourself back into the bed.

it was a long night indeed. you complaining how bad your head hurt and being nauseous all the time but damian had you safe in his arms - and your hair safe in his hands as you threw up in the bathroom - you knew that you were going to be fine.

[r6s6r]

constellations

cole walter x reader

warnings : angst, 18+, swearing, kinda long, mentions of anxiety and anxiety attacks.

i have been obsessing over MLWTWB recently so i am currently trying to make myself chill out so i am making this

——————————————————————

y/n had met alex at school and they instantly became bestfriends. they bonded over their love of video games and books

it went on like that for years. they were attached at the hip and she became like a part of the family

she was always around that they never even questions when she doesn’t go home some nights

of course they made sure she slept in a different room, which she always curled up on the recliner in the living room so danny could make his way down to watch his movies, careful not to wake her up. even if he did, she didn’t mind. she would be lulled back to sleep by the sound of the tv.

that was until jackie came to live with the walters

she didn’t mind jackie, she actually liked having a girl around but all of a sudden alex was in a trance over the olive skinned girl.

she felt pushed to the side.

forgotten.

———

she stood against the counter while alex stared at jackie, her heart broke a little bit.

she didn’t feel jealous, she hadn’t seen alex that way whatsoever. he was her bestfriend but he was distracted and that made y/ns mind spiral.

she had always had a problem with that. her mind never ending and always telling her she would be forgotten. she wasn’t good enough. she’s replaceable.

her mind then spiraled and she felt lightheaded. she needed air right then or she would burst into flames

she pushed herself from the counter and started towards the front door

“hey! you okay?” jackie smiled at her

“ye-yeah i’m okay, jackie. i’m just gonna go take a walk.” the tears were coming and she knew it

“do you want me to come with?” jackie offered warmly, almost like she knew the look on y/ns features

“oh no, jacks that’s okay”

“okay…” she looked at y/n to analyze her, jackie looked over to alex and saw him with his book to his face and then looked at y/n who was already out of the door and sighed.

y/n made her way down the steps as fast as she could.

her heart was pounding so loud she couldn’t hear anything going on around her. she just kept walking

she couldn’t think of anything else to do, her feet taking her to god knows where

until she ran right into him.

cole walter.

her coley poley.

she grabbed his arm and pushed herself up to keep upright, her whole body was shaking. she prayed he hadn’t noticed but cole knowing her like the back of his hand

he knew something was very wrong

“hey, doll. what’s going on?” he grabbed onto her to keep her steady.

“c-cole. i’m sorry, i didn’t mean to run into you. i’m sorry. i just needed some air. i’m sorry” the apologies just kept coming and the tears were on the brink of spilling

she could barely hear her own words over her speeding heart.

“hey. hey, it’s okay. talk to me, y/n/n” she looked at him, seeing his eyes for the first time since running into him

they looked helpless

she saw pain and sadness behind them

but the way the sun hit them just right, she saw hope. she saw a little cole running through the fields of the ranch with her, she saw life in his green orbs

they reminded her of the fields here in spring. the different patterns that swirled in the color of his eyes.

she took a deep breath and tried to tell him

but she choked and started to panic again.

he grabbed her face in his hands “look at me y/n/n” and she did

he talked to her slowly but nothing made it to her conscious brain. she just focused on the way he was taking breaths and the golden color his eyes had become

she tried to mimic his breaths, slow and deep.

“will you walk with me, coley poley?” she basically begged and he smiled and nodded at her.

so they did, they walked for what felt like forever before she finally calmed down enough to discuss why she had panicked.

“i just feel replaceable. since jackie got here alex has been, well, distant and we haven’t been hanging out as much. i’ve just been wandering around the house and the ranch with no real place to be anymore. without alex, where is my place here? is he gonna forget about me?” she looked at cole and his expression softened

“well, truly you are unforgettable. none of us would have you anywhere else. we all love you, you know that right, y/n/n? plus, she’s without. if you were my best friend, i would make sure you knew that.” he sighed looking off in the distance then back at her

“you would?” “i would”

“cmon, i wanna show you something” he stood up and offered his hand to her which she took and he brought her up with ease.

he turned his back to her “get on”

“what?” she questioned

“a princess does not get to walk to a secret location” he smiled at her over his shoulder and with a sighed she hoisted herself onto his back.

“giddy up cowboy.” she smiled at him

“yes ma’am.” he winked with a fake southern accent

and he began to make his way towards their destination.

when they made it, her eyes lit up. their destination was at the pond that had hundreds of flowers growing around it, it was truly beautiful around this time of year.

she jumped down and raced towards the pond, to a group of flowers and she laid right down. she closed her eyes and took in the scent of the air around her

cole made his way to her and smiled down at her.

“lay down with me coley poley”

“you gotta stop calling me that. the girls will never let me get close to them if you don’t”

“oh like you need anymore girls flocking your way. you basically have all of them worshipping the ground you walk on” she rolled her eyes and elbowed him as he sat down with a strained face

she knew it was hard for him since the incident with his leg.

she could never imagine how hard it must really be

“not all of them” he mumbled looking right at her

she made eye contact with him once again, his green eyes staring hard into her e/c ones.

she started counting the light freckles on his face and she began to speak “well i can’t be taken down by the cole effect. i am too strong” she smiled and flex her arms like she was the worlds strongest man

he laughed at her “i swear i’ll never hear the end of ‘the cole effect’ i don’t get it”

she scoffed at this “you don’t get it? okay let me try it on you. give you a little bit of the ‘y/n effect’ i would like to call it”

“okay give it to me y/l/n”

she peered out to the water where the sun was shining and leaned towards cole real close, close enough to smell her strawberry scented perfume and lotion.

she pointed to the water and gently touched his back “you see how the sun just shines on the water, coley poley?” she started, keeping her voice low and smooth

she rubbed a circle on his back which made cole shiver but she ignored it

“it shines right into your eyes, you know? makes them look so,”

he looked at her

“so green and gold. they sparkle, i could just look at them all day. they remind me of a meadow right as the sun is about to set”

her hand continued to rub his back

he looked like he had never been told this before

almost like it wasn’t the truth, y/n had just made it more seductive and sensual.

“it’s just like that, huh?” he whispered

“it’s just like that.” y/n pulled away but he grabbed her wrist quickly

“y/n”

“coley poley”

“y/n.”

“cole”

“did you mean it?” he leaned closer to her

“every word.” she smiled at him and leaned with him

“y/n!” she heard alex’s voice and the gallops of feet. her and coke scrambled up quickly and saw alex and jackie riding together

jackie must have said something to alex and he immediately came to find me, not noticing something was off until of course jackie said something.

jackie must of been good at reading people, y/n hated that. she hated being seen through like glass.

cole was standing behind her, pulling the leaves out of her hair and brushing off the back of her shirt.

alex looked at cole with a hard look. knowing what happened between them was rough but they were all still like family.

“what are you guys doing out here?” alex questioned them

“i just needed a walk and cole tagged along. i needed the company” y/n sneered back.

he was acting like she did something wrong

their problems weren’t hers, she needed someone by her side and alex obviously wasn’t gonna be there drooling over jackie.

“why didn’t you ask me?” his eyebrows furrowed when asking

“because you were busy, alex. come on, cole.”she answered perplexed, as if he didn’t know why.

she put her hand out towards cole and he took it. they started walking back to the ranch and whatever alex and jackie did wasn’t on her mind.

they made it back to the ranch

“thank you, coley poley. i really needed that” she smiled facing him

he pushed a strand of hair behind her ear, “of course, doll. anytime you need me, i’m only a shout away.”

y/n made her way into the house to see isaac and lee playing mortal kombat on the couch so she plopped herself in between them and called the next round

————

y/n had fallen asleep in the recliner but woke up to the house of the front door closing. she adjusted her nightgown and threw on a jacket by the front door and made her way outside. she saw the lights on in the barn where cole worked on his truck

she knew it had to have been him. she stood outside and enjoyed the breeze for a moment before walking out to the doors. her hand reached for the handle and she took a deep breath before opening it.

“coley poley?” she questioned as she closed the doors, she heard light music in the back.

she never pegged cole to listen to this type of music

lights are turned off

music is on

minds are unlocked

this feeling is amazing

“hey doll. did i wake you?”

“kind of but that’s okay. you weren’t loud, i’m just a light sleeper.”

he looked around the hood and started to lower it down before closing it completely

he was wearing a white tank top and his hair was messy around his forehead

she walked over to him and smiled at her “no scary monsters that need scaring away, right princess?”

“why no, of course not my knight. only you” she snickered at him

he feigned hurt “i could never hurt my princess. even if i am a monster”

“you’re no monster, cole walter.” she stepped closer to him

“what if i am? would you run?” he stepped even closer to her

“never.” she whispered, face to face with him.

when i hit the spot you know i hit it perfectly

and you taste so sweet

leave me wanting more soon

as we get out the sheets

he reached up and cupped her cheek his hand hands

he caressed her cheek with his thumb and she leaned more into it

she reached her hand up to his and held on to it, scared it would disappear if she didn’t.

she closed her eyes and sighed at the warmth of him.

he then pulled her to him and closed the gap between them.

he swayed them back and forth with the music.

lights are turned off

music is on

minds are unlocked

this feeling is amazing

hands on your waist

liquor is all that we taste

your freckles lead the way

i trace your constellations

she looked up at him and he was already looking at her big e/c eyes.

his eyes were that beautiful gold that they got at certain points when looking at her

all he could think was how ethereal she looked.

the dim light shining on her face, making her eyes sparkle and shine.

she lips plump and pink and her lashes looked long and wispy

she embodied natural beauty.

he didn’t feel himself leaning into her

but she was leaning in too.

he stopped himself thinking about how alex would really feel about this.

cole questioned himself for a second before y/n cupped his face to look at her and the look in her eyes threw every thought of doubt out of the window.

he grabbed her face and their lips finally met.

sparks had never been a thing for cole, he just did it to make other girls happy but this was different for him

it was for her too

now isaac had been her first kiss when they were young and of course Dylan, coles friend taking her virginity at a party after they had both had too much to drink. she never told anyone and she was sure he didn’t either, cole would’ve killed him.

this was different like it was what was missing from her life.

like she was waiting for the perfect moment and this was it.

cole knew this was different.

they pulled away and looked at each other for a split second before he started backing her against the front bumper of his truck

“cole..”

“y/n” he whispered, putting his forehead against hers.

before their lips met once again. more urgency behind this one

her wraps wrapped in the hair at the base of his neck and his hands made her way to her neck

her skin felt like it was on fire

he lifted her to wrap around his waist making her gasp as his lips trailed down her neck and to her collarbone.

she pulled at his hair to bring his lips back to hers and he groaned at the tug of his hair.

alex is gonna be so mad if he ever finds out what happened in the barn that night

i trace your constellations

[alottiegoingon]

who's afraid of virginia woolf?

jackie taylor x fem!reader

summary: the one where you and jackie secretly love each other while struggling with your sexuality.

warnings: jackie and reader are best friends, everyone is 21+, alcohol, heavy mentions of r and j dealing with their sexuality, homophobia mentions?, lesbians in denial, angst but fluff and happy ending, not proofread, slightly based on good luck, babe by chappell roan!!

making plans of going to college together became a regular thing when you and jackie entered high school. it was only natural that the two of you shared the typical teenager dream of living with your best friend and being roomates in uni, ditching classes and getting drunk instead of studying for exams.

"hey, don't worry." jackie tried to comfort you when you got a terrible score at your finals in senior year. she was fidgeting with the heart necklace she wore on her neck, gently spinning it around between her fingers.

regardless her impressive and actually sad capacity to pretend to be just a silly popular girl with pretty face and shiny hair, jackie was actually smart. you knew that all that effort to act all clueless and giggly around weird teenage boys in high school was fake. you never saw jackie studying during the weekends but, somehow, she would always get the perfect grade but would be the first one to hide it from boys. everyone knew that being too smart was bad. boys would easily get intimidated and that wasn't good for jackie taylor.

"we are gonna get through this together. i promise. i'll help you." jackie gives you that same old sweet looking smile that always get you freaking out inside while putting on your best show to act casual.

one more thing about jackie taylor; she had your heart in the palm of her hands since you two met. you weren't certain about how your friendship actually started, but you were sure that it was almost instantly.

jackie was actually quite popular by the age of eleven. she had the charisma of those late night show hosts you used to watch on tv with your parents, the prettiest and softest hair ever and a sweet perfume that would ling around for days.

jackie was also a natural leader. if any kid needed to complain about a classmate stealing their favorite glitter pen or their favorite sticker, jackie would be in charge of comforting them and helping them with whatever they needed. it wasn't rare for the teachers to have a talk with her after class to compliment her for being such a role model. everyone loved jackie.

you loved jackie, maybe too much.

it didn’t take long for you to realize that. you had the worst time of your life every single day while having lunch in the cafeteria with jackie and other girls from your class. you felt like ripping your ears off when all they could talk about was boys. they weren't even being discreet about it, you thought at yourself as you watched them stare at a couple of losers that were treated like gods with their weird stiff hair full of gel and a mustache that consisted on a tiny clump of facial hair.

while every girl at your table was so mesmerized by them, dreaming about how their lives would be so perfect if they ever liked them back, you were captivated by someone else; jackie.

you could watch her for hours, even if she was too busy looking at boys. you would think that her hazel eyes were even prettier that day, but that was a daily thing. you loved to hear her voice and to see her big beautiful smile adorning her face when she was excited about something and, with her, you didn't mind hearing about boys.

eventually, you and jackie got to live the dream. sharing a small bedroom with your best friend would sound like heaven to any girl but to you, it could be scary as well.

not only you were going to see her face every second at the day but it would also be hard to hear her constant speech about how you had to be more friendly and outgoing and stop studying so much. in another words, she wanted you to date guys.

that was a common debate between you two in high school. her persistent need to find the perfect boyfriend for you even though you were always ready to deny it. maybe she was trying to get rid of you?

"come onnn! all you do is study. remember last year when i had to drag you to mari's birthday party and you spent the whole night hidden in the corner?" jackie made fun of you during your first night together while doing her usual skin care routine.

even with her hair pulled back by a headband and with her face covered in cream, she looked fucking stunning.

"i wasn't hiding! i was just watching everyone from a safe distance..."

"that's actually worse." she giggled. you watch her leave the bathroom with a face mask and wearing nothing but a soft robe that had you on your knees.

“i’m not telling you to go crazy. all i’m saying is that you need to relax, okay?”

you weren’t exactly proud of it but you had to admit that is was too hard to focus on anything else besides her. it was impossible to deny her anything anyway but now? you were in tight shoes.

you could already feel your face heating up while you stood there like a coward with eyes growing wide and fighting for your life to not drool over your straight best friend.

“so? what do you think?” she insists, giving you an impatient glance.

“yes.” you immediately said the first thing that popped into your head.

“what?” you watch jackie’s eyebrows knitting.

“i-i mean, yes! i agree. i should relax more.” you trip over your own words but, thankfully, jackie didn’t seem to notice. maybe you were just stressed with the entire change of routine.

“great! we can start tomorrow!” she clapped her hands excitedly as her smile grew from one ear to another, probably surprised and relieved that you didn’t disagree this time.

[📚]

the first weeks weren’t nearly as good as you thought they would be. you managed to make some friends and actually met nice people, but so did jackie.

every friday night was a new suffocating experience. after a long week, jackie would drag you to the closest bar that most of the students would go to and, for the first half of the night, her duty was to play the matchmaker.

ever since you had agreed with her that night, you would force yourself to look happy in front of jackie at every god damn time she introduced you to a guy.

“i think you have so much in common!” she would say to all of the men before giving you a wink and leaving you two alone in a noisy bar, disappearing into the drunk pool of people.

it was always awkward and uncomfortable, of course. some of the guys ended up being actually acceptable and some were even sweet. but no matter how hard you tried to focus on the conversation, you would eventually find yourself looking for jackie in the crowd just to get your heart shattered by the view of a drunk jackie taylor with her pretty dress, messy hair, and with one of her hands tightly wrapped around the heart shaped necklace, eagerly kissing a stranger.

seeing this at pretty much every friday night didn’t make your daily need to fight against your feelings the easiest. you were drowning so deeply into your own thoughts that, one day, you woke up decided to forget about it.

maybe all of that was just a phase. you didn’t have feelings for your best friend and you definitely didn’t feel like throwing up every time you saw a boy since you were a kid. and, obviously, you wouldn’t fail biology or calculus on purpose just to be tutored by jackie so you could spend even more time with her and listen to her voice.

and absolutely, without a doubt, you weren’t scared of the big bad wolf called truth banging on your door and calling you a wimpy liar.

fuck.

[📚]

everyone know that famous saying “you are what you eat”, but what about you are what you desire?

jackie stopped complaining about you being stuck on your dorm studying on a friday night or during the weekends cause you stopped doing it. now, she wasn’t the only one to frequently visit the closest bar.

most of the time, you were the one to invite her first and at that point, it became a tradition.

you and jackie had different classes during the day and would barely spend any time together until you two met again at night. you, too scared to even look at her, would find an excuse to sleep early or spend the night at some random guy’s dorm that you met the other night. spoiler alert; you didn’t even remember his name.

you noticed the visible disappointment in jackie’s eyes and how deeply hurt she seemed every time you left, too desperate to silence your own thoughts and numb your feelings with good old alcohol.

during the bar nights that you two shared, jackie wasn’t as energetic as before. sometimes, while feeling like you were kissing a fish as your lips awkwardly melded with some other guy’s, you would open your eyes right in the middle of it to find jackie on the other side of the bar, sitting by herself with a filled glass of something strong.

you felt sick to your stomach at the idea of being touched by anyone else except for her, especially a man. but it was worth it if it meant that you could forget her entire existence for the night and wake up at someone else’s bed in the morning (and probably be late for class).

the year was flying by and everything stayed the same, except that the two of you didn’t share a word for the past few months and you avoided each other at all costs.

“i was wondering that, maybe now that finals are over, we could-“

“sorry, i got plans with travis. i’ll see you later!” jackie said while rushing to the door of your shared dormitory. you were a liar but so was she. you knew that “later” was a synonym to “tomorrow if you’re lucky”.

and just like that, everyday was the day to hear a different name. kevin, josh, steve, randy, sam. you even thought about making a list with all those names. you tried to leave the dorm during that nights as well but you were too worried about her safety. it would be much better to just wait for her and pretend to be asleep when the door opens.

you couldn’t blame her, you were the one who started it.

[📚]

in a typical night at the bar, you feel a stranger’s arm wrapped around your waist. you were already dizzy thanks to the couple of shots you took and could barely feel your mouth attached to his. however, you were kind of thankful for that.

jackie wasn’t in a very different situation but she knew how to be pettier than you. she knew you and how you were acting for the past months. how you would look for her with the corner of your eyes just to make sure that she was okay or not too drunk.

you weren’t the most cautious person, jackie perceived your multiple stares and she would make the best of it. while having your attention, she was hiding behind her best mask and flirting with the first man she saw. it was the performance of her life, consisting of a fake smile followed by a loud and high pitched giggle and an exaggerated hair twirling.

you, watching from across the room, felt your blood boil as your hands curl into fists. how dare jackie to do this right in front of you? didn’t she know how badly you wanted her?

retaliating her behavior, you would mimic her actions just to get under her skin. until it worked too well.

you carefully watched jackie leave the bar in quick steps and your first idea was to ignore her. she started the entire jealous thing and she was being childish. but so were you.

you immediately ditched the person who you were talking to and placed the shot glass on the wooden table so you could follow her.

you immediately stopped walking as soon as you put your feet outside, finding her sitting on the sidewalk. you would usually approach her in seconds, ready to go for a hug, but neither of you were in proper speaking terms now.

cautiously, you get closer. she doesn’t look up to meet you but you know that she can feel you there. you sit by her side and hug your legs. the silence gets so loud that you would be able to hear crickets if it wasn’t for the muffled noise coming from the bar.

“what happened to us?” jackie’s breathy and insecure voice finally breaks through the silence after a while.

you finally feel brave enough to look at her. not just look, to see her. to acknowledge her presence. to not ignore her.

“i don’t know.” you whisper. but you did.

“are we even friends?”

“we used to be best friends.” she looks at you and, for the first time in what felt like forever, you could see all of the details in her face again. of course, she was prettier than you could remember.

“you remember when you gave me this?” jackie grabs the shiny heart pendant, rubbing it between her fingertips. there was a small hint of a smile trying to make its way to her lips.

“yeah. you were scared to try for the soccer team.”

“scared? i was terrified.” she adds and you let a whispery chuckle out. “i couldn’t sleep for days, thinking if i would be good enough to even make it to the bench.”

“you gave me this before the first trial and said that if i was feeling too scared, i could squeeze it and it would be just like holding your hand.”

“i guess it worked, right?” you try to lighten the mood, lips curling up into a subtle smirk. jackie ended up being part of the team and, over time, the team captain.

she nods in silence.

“i didn’t even like soccer.”

“what? but you were so good. why did you join the team?” your eyes narrow as you speak and your heart starts to beat faster when jackie takes longer to say something.

“you were part of the team. i wanted to be around you.”

you find yourself looking away from her to hide the sudden heat and the pinkish tone of your cheeks. jackie went through a stressful week that year, practicing and learning the basics without actually liking it just because of you.

the sound of your voices is replaced by a loud nothing once again. the air was growing thicker and even the slightest touch of your shoulders accidentally brushing against each other was a reason to make you unconsciously hold your breath.

“i think i’m a lesbian.” your feel yourself getting struck by a sharp surge of disbelief and in a blink of an eye, she has your attention again. you feel the palm of your hands getting sweaty, going against the cold weather.

“what? why?” you manage to say a few words and, if it wasn’t for the delicate moment, jackie would have laughed at your frantic gaze.

“because.” jackie sighs, not being able to stop playing with the heart hanging on her neck. “i felt absolutely nothing when i had to pretend to care about boys in middle school but i felt the entire world when you were looking at me.”

not only she knew that you were always staring at her in the cafeteria but she liked it. she liked having your attention.

“you were never good at hiding it, by the way.” she snorts but you were sure that she was just as nervous as you.

“i thought i was pretty good…” you whisper, grinning. she was absolutely right, though.

“really? i found a biology test of yours hidden under your bed once. you were even better than me but you said that you were failing it and needed help.” the red color on your face gets more intense as you share a loud laugh. your hands momentarily cover your face.

“i think i just wanted to be around you.” you shrug, defending yourself by echoing her words.

“you still do?” jackie asks and, slowly, the lighthearted smile fades away from your face.

your gaze was lingering on her eyes and wouldn’t dare to leave. not even when you gently leaned closer and your fingers fixed her hair by carefully hiding a small section behind her ear. the entire world felt like it had stopped and you could hear a feather hitting the ground. it was quite adorable how jackie was the one to held her breath now just before swallowing the lump on her throat.

“i think i’ll always want to be around you.” you whisper. there was nothing but love and adoration inside your eyes as you felt completely hypnotized by her. you allowed your gaze to drift down to meet her lips and the hand that was hanging around her ear just a second ago found its way to her face. the palm of your hand fit perfectly on her cheek and you took the opportunity to guide her closer to you.

the first thing you feel the second after closing your eyes is jackie’s soft lips touching yours and how tenderly they were dancing together. it was almost like you and jackie were made of glass and you didn’t want to break each other.

jackie’s hand imitated yours but she used her thumb to caress your cheek. you feel her pulling away from your lips and you feel faint when your eyes open and she is smiling like she had just won the lottery.

“fuck. you are so pretty.” you groan in a dramatic way. with watery eyes and rosy cheeks, jackie nestle her face into your neck and gives your skin a small kiss, causing you to shiver and hug her body tightly, closer to you.

maybe the big bad wolf on your door wasn’t so scary now.

[siriusly-parker]

—more. [isaac garcia, mlwtwb]

“Lowly knights and mighty kings, they all want more”

tags. [fluff, angst, bonfire party, childhood best friends to lovers, jealousy, drunken confessions]

author’s note. [thank you for all of the requests!! i got a TON, so i tried to mix a few ideas into one fic, so i could get it out to you guys as fast as possible! ꩜ i siriusly love you <3]

wc. [4k]

—fic under the cut!

‧˚ʚ ⋆ ꜝꜞ

Aside from her predicament with the Walter boys, Y/n did really like Jackie. Who she didn’t get along with where her newfound friendships. Skyler and Grace where gossipers. Y/n knew they just enjoyed being close to the center of it all. Skyler was just annoying, and she didn’t enjoy the way he treated Nathan at all, but she could get past that and tolerate his presence. Grace though… she was just a bitch. She hated Grace, “Gracie” as she used to call her. They actually used to be good friends, until high school made the girl even more of a newsmonger. The slight whiff of a scandal and she’d come running like a dog, even to the detriment of the people around her. She gets carried away, forgets it’s real people and not a movie. Maybe she gets a high out of the attention she gets from sharing the information she dishonestly collects. People only come to see her to know all about other’s lives. Gracie’s own is incredibly boring, she’s sheltered. So, gossiping is her only way of living some sort of excitement, through others, of course. Y/n pities her, in a way. But she mostly, mostly hates her guts.

At the annual bonfire party, after an insane amount of begging from her best friend, Y/n took a ride with the Walter’s. Cole got them there, but Danny was, as per usual, the designated driver. Y/n didn’t enjoy drinking either, but she didn’t have her permit yet, postponing her lessons every chance she got. She liked driving with the boys, she even had her own designated seat. Being their neighbour meant they’d get her to school too, and that Isaac would practice his own driving on his uncle’s truck with her. He was good, she felt safe.

When they got there, Jackie immediately jumped to Gracie, while Nathan ran to see Skyler, who didn’t truly seem to be as excited. Y/n rolled her eyes so hard, she’d probably get a headache from it. “Careful, you’ll get stuck like that.” Laughed Cole as he closed the door and threw the keys to his twin brother. “I can’t help myself!” She pleads in annoyance as she turns to her best friend for support. When she looks at Isaac, he’s looking over at the fire, not listening to their conversation at all.

He had been mostly quiet the whole ride, which she didn’t necessarily mind. They're used to comfortable silence, understanding each other beyond words. Even before him and Lee went to live with their cousins, they often came to visit. Y/n came to know that truck by heart, always sneakily asking her parents if she could go play with the neighbour boys when she saw it drive past.

Isaac actually had a stutter as a child. He wasn’t always as confident as he seemed now. Ashamed, he often stayed quiet. At first, Lee talked for him most of the time, but as their friendship grew, they learned to communicate without much words early on. The banter came later, when puberty hit and he became popular with the ladies. Sometimes though, when they’re alone, his quiet side shines through. Maybe tonight he just didn’t feel like talking much. That would be fine, but she knew there was something more.

“Hey,” It’s spoken softly. Hearing her voice, he shook himself out of his trance and noticed everyone was gone to exactly where he was looking. He was too bewitched by the fire to notice the people around it. “you’re quiet.” She chuckles. She says it as a fact, as something she noticed, but he knows she means it as a question that needed answering. He rubs the back of his neck, not sure of what to say. “Oh… uh~ yeah.” A giggle escapes her lips at that. “Recompose yourself, Garcia. You have a reputation to uphold.” He knows she’s teasing, but before he can answer, her hand leaves his forearm and she’s headed towards the party, like everyone else.

People wave at her, Cole screams something, Danny laughs. All he sees is fire. As if she’s walking right into it. She looks beautiful. The lack of her touch is more noticeable now. It feels wrong. He didn’t even notice she was touching him. It’s not unusual per say, but you’d think he would notice. Maybe it wasn’t her voice that drew his attention, maybe it was the familiarity of her touch. She knew that sometimes he was so inside his head that only a gentle squeeze could do the job that words couldn’t. But the fact she kept it, and he allowed it, like it didn’t matter, was what perplexed him. He’d usually be thrilled, but he was too tense to even feel it. Maybe that’s what made him stutter again. She had that effect on him, even though she helped him through it the most. He couldn’t get the idea of her out of his head, but he didn’t know how to tell her.

“Buddy, c’mon.” Danny’s voice pulled him out of his haze. “It’ll just come out naturally when you talk to her, don’t stress about it.” It comes out so casual, as if it was obvious between the two boys. “What are you talking about, dude? I’m just kinda tired. Didn’t even wanna come to this trash party.” He scoffs unconvincingly to his older cousin. “Yeah okay. You were the most excited. You dragged Y/n here, when you know she doesn’t even like parties. Look, if you have something to say to her, just do. It doesn’t have to be special, or a big deal, or even tonight. Now let’s go. She’s all alone in a party she didn’t wanna go to, with people she can’t stand.” Isaac laughs at that, knowing she’s probably poking at Cole’s last nerves or teasing Alex and Lee. He also knew that, sadly, the company of her friends didn’t compensate for breathing the same air as some deeply annoying people. “Well, to be fair, Gracie is a pain in the ass. Girl can’t mind her own business.” Danny pushes his back harder as he holds his shoulders, guiding him towards their friends. “You know she likes you right?” Danny questions, but Isaac just rolls his eyes. “Right, she likes anything that looks in her direction.” The Walter boy nods enthusiastically, as if it was all evident. “Right, yeah. And, you don’t care—obviously- cause you like Y/n, anyway!” Isaac’s head turns sharp at that, but he relaxes at Danny’s unconcerned smirk. He couldn’t get anything past the boy. His feelings were hiding behind a glass window to everyone, but her. Finally giving up the act, he shakes Danny’s hands off him and walks the final few steps towards the crowd on his own. “Shut up…”

When Isaac finally joins the party, he’s immediately swarmed by a raid of girls. Y/n watched from far away, lightly laughing at the absurdity of it all. But, a part of her is jealous. She doesn’t want him to spend time with these girls, he’s supposed to be her best friend. She’s the one supposed to have all of his attention… and more. Before she can shut down that too recurring thought, she feels someone walk up beside her.

“Isaac Garcia, honorary Walter, and breaker of hearts! Why don’t you join the fan club?” The boy teases in a theatrical manner. She recognized him, Matthew, from the football team. “I didn’t have time to sign up, sadly. But I don’t think there’s any more place to join, now.” She mimicked his dramaturgic expression. “King Garcia has a big heart, thou shall not worry! The more the merrier.” She laughs at that. He’s being ridiculous, but it’s getting a reaction out of her. Matthew did not mind being ridiculed if it meant she would be the one laughing. After the laughter quieted down, she answered honestly. “Not for me, I don’t think so.” But she kept their act going, finding it fun. “I have come to accept this sad reality a long time ago, My Knight! When I was still only a small peasant girl.” He smiles, before dropping the Shakespearean accent. “I am glad.” “You are?” She suspiciously questions. “Of course. That means you can join my club. As the face of it, of course. The Y/n appreciation club.” The play is back on, and so are the theatrics. “Oh, I’d be delighted, My Knight. Not many members I suppose?” “Only me, for now, My Queen. But not by lack of trying from others. It’s just that…” His face drops forward comically, pressing her to ask, “That what, My Kight?” Dramatically, he sighs. “They have to fight to the death to join… and I’m a very good duelist. Very motivated… to be the sole member of this club.” “How so?” She truly wonders. “It would mean that I would have your undivided attention, My Queen. That would be a great prize, indeed.” He says, slowly coming back to his true self. Y/n actually didn’t expect that. Most boys don’t give her the time of day, let alone display their affection so clearly. “Oh…” “Oh.” He teases, and she giggles at the realization.

Through the sea of undesirable faces surrounding him, Isaac sees the interaction. Why is she laughing? What could he be saying that’s so incredibly funny? He should be the one making her laugh like that. But, that’s not really fair, though, is it? He didn’t even come up to her since he left the side of the car. She’d be alone if it wasn’t for the footballer. He’s glad she has company, he just wishes it was him instead. Not keeping his eyes off the girl, he distractedly excuses himself from the herd. Slightly pushing people out of his way, he goes directly towards the new pair of friends. Y/n is laughing and twirling her hair. She never twirls her hair. Her dress is pretty. Short. She was wearing a dress? Is it new? He’s never seen it before. Did she wear it for him? For Matthew? Did they talk before tonight? Why is he so pressed about this? Why does he care so badly? Heart beating louder than the music, his hands reach to another random drink. Suddenly, his legs start to walk on their own towards the girl he can’t help but love.

As he comes up behind her, Y/n sees Matthew’s expression change. “Well, time is up, My Lady.” He theatrically bows down to her as Isaac puts his arms around her shoulders. Y/n’s confused at his sudden change of behaviour. “I’ll see you later, Princess.” He winks and walks away while Isaac stands confused. Did he just call her Princess? What a player… What even was their dynamic? He didn’t actually plan on interrupting anything, but now that he did, he wasn’t sure how to proceed. Lost in thought again, he only notices her expression when she yells out the other boy’s name and moves towards him, making Isaac’s drunken arm drop. Matthew turns around and softly smiles at her. He motions for her to come closer and whispers something in her ear. That secret makes her blush, and Isaac is furious, not knowing what was said. Why did he have that effect on her? As Matthew leaves Y/n with a pat on the head, she sheepishly comes back to where her best friend was standing. The closer she got, the warmer he cheeks felt, and apparently looked. Isaac noticed, but didn’t truly understand he was the source of it.

“So? What did cocky all-American football star Matthew want to do with you?” Isaac says matter-of-factly. His words start to slur. Nothing makes much sense, except the thought that she may be in love with someone else. She takes a step back. He suddenly went from quiet to mean. What happened in that pit of girls? Was he tired of breaking hearts? Was yours the only one left? “He’s not cocky, he’s actually very nice…” She tries to add, but it comes out hushed, shy. The words hurt more than she cared to admit. Her biggest insecurities highlighted by the one she cared for most. “And- I’m sorry if it’s too hard for you to imagine… that someone could actually like… me,” It comes out slow, as if she was carefully choosing her words and not only trying not to cry. “but there’s no need to be so rude…” Her last words are barely louder than a whisper. With the ringing in his ear and the loud music, he’s scared he simply imagined it. But her eyes tell him that even if she didn’t say it, that’s how she felt. He was deliberately rude and knowingly mean and he felt absolutely awful.

“Y/n… you know that’s not what I meant…” “I don’t know that…” She avoids his gaze, kicking the sand beneath her feet. “I just-” “You what?” “He’s a jock! He must have bad intentions!” She scoffs at that. “Or maybe! Just maybe! Someone likes me! Crazy, I know! But not that impossible…” “I don’t doubt that anyone could like you, Y/n. You’re-” When she finally looks at him, demanding an explanation, his mind goes silent. How could he tell her how deeply amazing he truly thought she was? “It’s just that- He’s a football star! They’re dicks!” That’s the excuse he comes up with. “Ok? Cole was a football star?” “And he’s a dick! I love him… but look at Erin…” She nods sarcastically. “Well, I’m glad you’re concerned, but I won’t follow him around like a puppy, waiting for attention. I’ve done that enough actually…” She mumbles, but he hears. He always hears her. “Y/n…” She dismisses him with a wave. “Go back to your little fan club, Isaac…” As Y/n walks away she blinks back a few tears that were threatening to spill. Isaac watched her sit down by the fire besides Matthew, hugging her knees. He’s making her laugh, and everything gets more real. He was the asshole, and he hated himself for it. Before going to apologize, he just needed another drink.

As he turns his back to the fire, he bumps into Grace, who didn’t seem this shocked. “God! I didn’t see you!” She feigns innocence, as she offers him a new red plastic cup. Isaac takes it without much thought, constantly looking back at where Y/n and Matthew were sitting. He’s too distracted to care about Grace and too buzzed to even understand what she’s saying. He nods at whatever she’s saying before noticing her hand on his shoulder. “Ew, get off, Grace.” The intoxication in his voice is clear, but he’ll never be wasted enough to want her, or anyone other than the girl he couldn’t keep his eyes off of. Gracie doesn’t seem to take a hint, putting her other hand on his free shoulder. By the time Isaac turns back to look at her, Y/n is already on her feet marching towards them. “Oh no… she’s coming to ruin our fun…” Grace pouts, but Isaac doesn’t hear, too mesmerized by the girl stomping her way to them. “Get off, Grace.” Y/n pushes her off and instinctively checks on Isaac. Taking his drink from him and buttoning his jacket back on, she says, “Ok, it’s time to go, pretty boy.” She softly smiles at him, knowing he doesn’t need a lecture right now. After she puts his hair back into place, she turns to a whining Grace and tells her matter-of-factly, “Also.. Gracie… eat shit and die.” She scoffs and flips her hair like in the movies. At least, that’s how Isaac sees it. His savior in slow motion, he thinks and laughs. He looks stupid and drunk, and so so so in love with her. It’s time to go home.

“Y/n, that was not nice…” Jackie comes up to her, but Y/n ignores her, fully knowing the point of her words were to be mean. She could be the devil when she wanted. And Grace was always a free pass for being bitchy. The amount of times that Y/n had to defend Isaac as a child, she knew how to take care of the boy. This came naturally to her.

“You do not want to feel the wrath of the neighbor girl, Jackie.” Cole laughs as he pats her shoulders and goes past her towards the car. Danny joins him, keys in hand. “She’s his fiercest defender, don’t try her. She’d burn the world for him, I’m pretty sure.” He warns, mumbling the last part. “Walter family! In the car! Now!” Y/n demands, holding Isaac up. “Yes ma’am!” Cole winks at Jackie, who’s slowly understing the dynamics of the family. “No one is safe if he’s the one in danger. No matter how much you think she loves you, there’s no one on earth she cares more about than him.” He whispers in her ear as he sits down considerably close to her. “She’s crazy mad, guys! Get in the car!” Danny yells for the others to come. Lee and Nathan run up to the car, fully knowing who’s boss.

When they finally get home, Y/n walks right past everyone with Isaac to put him to bed. No one says a word, knowing it’d be better not to test her in times like these.

Isaac starts laughing when they go past his door. “Y/n! Are you crazy?” She shushes him for being too loud. “Are you crazyyy?” He tries again in a loud whisper. “What are you talking about?” She can’t help but laugh a little too. “You can’t come into my roooooooom. Not at this hour! No girls over. Aunt Katherine is gonna be piiiiiiiissed.” “I’m just putting you to bed, Isaac. You’re drunk.” She chuckles, pushing him towards his bed so he can sit down. “Oh…” He’s quite obvious in his disappointment. As she chooses clothes for him to sleep in, she tries to reassure him. “Katherine said I could stay tonight, ok? Because of the party. I’ll sleep on the couch.” His excitement is brought back by that piece of information. “Oh! We can watch a movieeeeee, and-” “No, Isaac. We sleep. You don’t want to be visibly hangover in the morning. Then, Katherine would kill you.” She turns away from his dresser and puts his clothes beside him on the bed. “Here. Your pjs. Put them on, I’ll put mine on, and then we’ll go brush our teeth, ok?” “Ok…” His eyes wander to her dress. It’s pretty. It’s short. He wants to tell her it’s pretty. Instinctively, his hands wander to the hem of the dress. His thumb strokes the fabric, it's nice. There’s a silence between them. Y/n doesn’t actually leave the room, like she had planned. “Pretty… it’s-“ “Thanks.” She quickly interrupts. In his daze, his hands move from her skirt to her thigh. The touch is soft, feather-like. He’s scared she’ll break otherwise. Y/n holds her breath, but before she can say anything, he lifts his arms up. “Help.” He simply says like a child who can’t undress themselves. It takes a while for her to process his request, but she doesn’t decline.

When she first touches the bottom of his shirt, and her hand accidentally brushes over his skin, she can’t help but feel her heart skip. It’s not as if she had never seen him shirtless before. Countless summers at the Walter household gave her many opportunities to gawk. But this felt different. The two of them, alone in his room. It’s as if, in her anger at Grace, she had forgotten their own fight.

Matthew had abs too, even more, probably. A football star boyfriend would be great, she tried to convince herself. But the thought didn’t persuade her, as it didn’t give her the butterflies that Isaac’s simple smile easily could.

As she lifts his shirt up, she can’t help but think back at what Matthew whispered to her back at the bonfire party. “Go to your King. Do not settle for a lowly knight like me.” She later tried to explain to him she didn’t feel as though he was “lowly”, but he saw through her makeshift walls right to where she hid her feelings for the older Garcia boy. She didn’t know why he acted the way he did that night, so quiet, and then so rude, but she pushed it all away, they’d talk about it tomorrow.

When she finally took off his shirt, she couldn’t help but stare a little. She quickly shook it off and put his old band shirt on. There were a few holes in it, but with his grey hoodie on top, it didn’t really matter. Looking at his neatly folded red checkered pyjama pants, he got up and said, in the same way as before, “Help.” She chuckled, and turned away to leave. “You can do that part on your own, I’m sure.” She could feel his smirk burning at the back of her head.

In the bathroom, she put her own pyjama set on and started her nightly routine. Hearing a knock at the door, she swiftly opened, knowing it must be Isaac coming to brush his teeth.

They brush their teeth together and Isaac sits on top of the counter, waiting for her to finish taking off her makeup and doing all of her skincare. “You’re so pretty…” The sudden break in the comfortable silence shocks her. Of all the things he could’ve said, she didn’t expect this. Seeing she didn’t answer, he kept going. “And smart too. You’re more than your looks of course, but you are very pretty. I know I make fun of you for your thousand steps routine, but I actually do enjoy it. Gives me more time to just look at you…” “Isaac…” She tried to cut in on his rant. “And- And I didn’t mean that… At the bonfire. I know people like you. How could they not… I just- i just don’t want you to like them…” He was drunk, he’d regret it in the morning. She feels as though she’s reading someone’s secret diary. He’s drunk and an open book for her to skim through. “Isaac…” She warns again, but he shakes his head. “I guess I was just jealous… ‘cause you were laughing… so much with Matthew. What were you even laughing at? He can’t be that funny. I’m funny. I want you to like me…” He groans, hiding his face in his hands. “I do like you…” Y/n tries to reassure him. “Well then… I want you to love me.” She takes his hand, making him look at her fully. “I love you, Isaac. A lot.” He smiles. “You’re my best friend.” It drops. “No…” That was wrong. That’s not what he wanted. “No?” She questions. “I don’t want you to love me like a best friend… I want you to love me as… more.” “More?” “More.” He says it as a pledge. “Will your answer stay the same in the morning?” There’s a smile on her face. She can’t help but dwell on the possibility of what could be. “I promise.” He’s sure of himself. “Ok, then we’ll talk about it when you’re well-rested.” She laughs. “Now get down, sleepyhead. It’s time for bed.” Isaac didn’t argue, knowing full well that in the morning, he’d be telling her the same thing. Over and over again if that’s what she wished to hear.

ꕀ

‎𐦂 hope you enjoyed it!! comment what you think! and please don’t forget to reblog!!! ◡̈

ʚ masterlist + resquests!

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[husbandhoshi]

TO GROW LOVE (AND EAT IT TO THE CORE)

pairing: mingyu x gn!reader wc: 8.1k summary: your whole life, you've only wanted one thing. then you meet mingyu. suddenly you want too much, and you wish the summer never ended. notes: farmer!au, established relationship, angst/hurt/a little comfort

this is a birthday fic for my one and only cat @wuahae ! yes this is about half a year late but what can i say. all good things come with time. thank you for being so kind, funny, and thoughtful (and patient)! not a day goes by where i’m not thankful for our friendship :)

and a million thanks to hana @wqnwoos and jackie @97-liners for helping me with edits. literally you guys are insane writers and i will never stop looking up to you.

i. strawberries (the summer we were young)

When a strawberry is ripe, the seeds push out from the heart of the fruit, as if it's bursting from the inside out.

This is one of the few and only things you've learned by living in Seogwipo, where strawberry season comes like a supernova. The May sun, full and heavy, peels into summer, and the roadside farms open their doors, trying to catch stray vacationers from Jeju City on the other side of the island.

That being said, there are approximately two things to do here. One of them is farm. The other is pretend like you have a life, which is your childhood friend Yizhuo's favorite thing to do when she's back from university on summer break.

Today, this involved convincing her ritzy, too-good Seoul friends that they're missing out on this side of Jeju. (Missing out on what? You're not sure. Perhaps the chipped paint of the mural walls, or the endless flat-topped stretches of seagrass. Yizhuo isn't fooling anyone, but you've always liked stretching your legs out in the bed of her pick-up, even on the long drive to nowhere.)

Unsurprisingly, her friends quickly came to the same conclusion. Just one look at your local strawberry patch, with none of the glamour of the bloated tourist traps in the city, and they decided they'd rather spend the afternoon at the beach.

It was then, between the fragaria blooms, when you met Mingyu. He asked for your name, and the rest was history. Yizhuo and co. scattered like the grasping hands of an overripe dandelion and you learned that he was, one, the newly-graduated son of a pair of local farmers, and two, very, very attractive. Almost too much so, especially for a place like this.

Now he holds up a berry, a bright red murder between his fingers, and tells you to try it.

"You must be delusional if you think i'm taking food from a stranger," you laugh, perched on the fence bordering the field. It sprawls before you, melon stripes on the sunbaked ground.

"No, my name is Mingyu," he replies. "No idea who delusional is." His smile, all bright lip and snaggletooth, tears into the scarlet belly of a newly picked strawberry.

"We all know what happened to Persephone."

"Well, if the underworld was a strawberry patch, I wouldn't mind being stuck there for all of eternity."

"What're you picking all these for, anyway?" you ask, watching Mingyu struggle with his too-big straw hat between the vines. His woven basket bleeds over with little berries.

"Jam. I make it on the very first day of every summer."

"Why?"

"You ask a lot of questions for someone who trespassed on my farm. You're cute, but I won't let you off easy."

He laughs at how you balk, clearly red-handed. You're not sure how to tell him you don't think you were supposed to be here either. You don't do things like sit in the back of trucks, trespass, or talk to pretty farmer boys who take a fancy to you, but it's the summer before you graduate and you're not even sure how long you'll have to continue making bad decisions.

"Are you gonna take my first-born now?" you joke instead. The daylight runs down the rim of Mingyu's hat, trickles down his brow, and you wish you could pour the image of him into a jar and keep it forever.

"No, but I will invite you in for some fresh jam on toast. I baked a loaf this morning." and when you say nothing, he continues. "The strawberries are only good once a year. It's the best you'll ever have. Promise."

It's a whine and a half, and somehow you convince yourself this will be the last bad decision you'll make. You've been here long enough to know that good things don't come twice in Seogwipo, and he is unlikely to be an exception.

Yizhuo blows up your phone, you tie the gingham apron around Mingyu's tiny waist, and the basket turns to blood in the saucepan.

Mingyu is right. Love comes to you in that kitchen, high and red like the sun, and the jam never tastes as good as it does that summer.

ii. watermelon (hollowed out, like a magic trick)

"A good watermelon sounds like a heartbeat."

You watch Mingyu heave the fruit, small and striped, out of his grocery bag. It joins the array of egg sandwiches and banana milks you picked up from the store together earlier. (There should have been chocolate Pepero too, but you split the box on the walk).

You're on a picnic, sprawled out on the outcropping overlooking the water. The path up is basically right behind your house, but you had never cared to visit. It had always been the local makeout spot, a schlocky teen crawl for those with nothing better to do, and yet, with Mingyu stretched out beside you, it seems newer. More exciting.

You're still just friends, or at least that's what you told Yizhuo. But ever since you sat on Mingyu's kitchen counter and ate from his jam-covered spatula, you don't think you've gone a week without seeing him. It's been almost two months, which seems so long and yet not long enough—he makes it easy to be greedy.

"See?" He thumps the watermelon with the heel of his palm. "Try it."

You already went through this entire charade at the grocery store, right in front of all the local aunties, but you indulge him. There's little point to triple checking if it's still ripe, but you think he just likes hitting it.

"It sounds good," you say. "But how are we even gonna eat it? We don't have a knife."

"Watch this." Mingyu procures a coin from his pocket. "You didn't learn this in elementary school? I feel like everyone was doing it."

"Here?" you ask, incredulous.

"Yeah, here. I grew up here too, you know."

He holds the edge of the coin to the skin and slams his palm into it once more, so that it lodges itself into the rind, and begins dragging it around the fruit. You start to wonder if he bought the watermelon just to show you a party trick—not that you mind, though. The strain of his biceps peeks through his rolled up white tee, and you remember why he was able to stop you with just one look back when you first met.

"No way." The watermelon is so ripe, it bleeds around the incision. "I feel like I know everyone here. And I definitely would have remembered you."

"I was probably, like, two grades above you," he replies. "And my parents shipped me off to live with my cousins after elementary school. They said I should get out of Seogwipo and experience the real world."

"Good call. There's nothing here." You watch Mingyu spin the melon over to cut through the other side. The coin catches the sunlight, and it looks like gold. "I wish I left for university. The one here is so small."

"Really?" He pauses to show you his handiwork. The two melon halves roll over on their backs, their cut edge cruel and jagged. "Cool, huh?"

"Impressive," you say. "Honestly. I really didn't think that would work."

"I didn't either when I first saw someone do it. But I’ll try anything once," he replies, ripping open the packaging of the plastic spoon from the bag. "I can't believe you don't like it here."

"You do?"

"Yeah. A lot." He shoves the spoon in his mouth, and you watch the watermelon juice pool around his lips. "I missed home. The trees and the tall grass and the ocean. All the fruits. Everything. I learned to ride a bike, right down there by the water."

"Hm." He passes you the spoon. You don't want to hog it, so you carve out a piece bigger than you need. "Are you gonna work at the farm?"

"Maybe. Haven't decided yet," he says. "I think I want to be here, though. Maybe do something with food, but I want to be home."

"That's funny, because I think I’ve always wanted to live a different life. Or at least one somewhere else."

"You want to go to law school, right?"

"Yeah." Mingyu is right. The watermelon is all sugar, and you would almost feel guilty for eating it if it wasn't technically good for you. "I’ve always wanted to be a lawyer. It's something about the people watching, I think."

"That’s really cool," Mingyu says, mouth full but no less sincere. It's then that you notice your shoulders are almost touching, and your heart crawls back up to your mouth. "You know what you want. I admire that."

He makes it sound like a compliment, but you're sure it's a curse.

You think of your parents. There's a permanent wrinkle ironed into their foreheads, the paper crease of expectations and high standards. It's not that they didn't care, but their kind of care was a humbled sort, made heavy by a hard life. It didn't help that your big sister Seohyun went straight from Yonsei to work a big tech job in San Francisco and never once looked back.

But you can't blame any of them—wanting has always been a hereditary failing. Sometimes Yizhuo will catch you frowning at nothing, and then you remember that life isn't a performance and every day ends at the same time no matter how hard you work. But you don't know how to tell her that the only thing you can do sometimes is want, because otherwise you wouldn't really have much at all.

It seems like the exact opposite of how Mingyu lives—everything about him seems to pass like the seasons. Maybe that's why you can't seem to get enough of each other.

"Thank you. Really." You dig the spoon into your half of the melon. There isn't much left. "You're way too nice to me."

"It’s not hard to be," he laughs. "Maybe you're just too hard on yourself."

You're losing track of the distance between the two of you. You can almost feel the heat playing off his skin.

"Maybe."

It's then, under the veil of summer, where you meet Mingyu's gaze and, finally, things seem close to simple.

All you know are his eyes, heavy with sun, and then the slow, slow move of his lips against yours. He tastes like August, long and sweet, and for once you know what it's like to not only want, but to have, and to have again.

The ocean sings on the horizon, and the watermelon bellies weep.

iii. adzuki beans (or, the blood of a headless taiyaki)

Mingyu eats taiyaki headfirst because he says it hurts less.

"That makes no sense," you tell him, your pinkies linked. You never really liked holding hands, but yours fits so perfectly in Mingyu's and there's some girlish, childlike shine to it when you watch his finger search for yours after just a moment separated.

"What do you mean."

He breaks your gaze to eye a red bean taiyaki, like an unwilling predator sizing up their prey. It's the lamest, most embarrassing iteration of National Geographic you've ever seen, and yet you cannot find any fiber within yourself not deeply in love with the lion.

Fall is a forgiving place for your relationship to settle. You're now a senior at university and he's started his gap year. Gap implies he's in the middle of something, but in true Mingyu fashion, he leaves it up to fate, or chance, or something not nearly as kind (whim).

"Taiyaki isn't alive. And why would you want to pretend it is? Eating gummy bears would become an extinction event."

"It kind of is." He holds out the tail end of the taiyaki, the pastry almost explicitly flayed open, in front of you to eat. "Why does the Haribo bear have a face? Why do the gummy bears live in a gummy forest?"

"Great, so now I can’t even enjoy gummy bears without feeling like a serial killer?"

You dig your pointer into his shoulders, broad from all the time he spends on the farm. To think that his hands, big and weathered, were made to pick berries (and now wrap around your pinky finger) is bruising, if not ridiculously funny.

"It's a crime of passion. Gummy passion. Prosecute that."

He kisses your cheek and your heart almost squeezes into two.

The terrible thing about being with Mingyu is how seemingly endless his affection is. Now he's feeding you in public and buying the two of you matching socks (cat and dog, to be exact), although you'll admit it's a little charming, even if the neighbors do gossip.

He's sweet, too sweet, and his kisses stick to the back of your throat.

But you can't be fooled. There's an unsaid violence to the way Mingyu loves. (The meticulous spiral of the peel he carves when you ask for him to cut you an apple. The grind, decisive and cruel, of a knife against a cutting board. A pair of canines against your neck, your jaw.)

Even now, he bites the head off another unwitting taiyaki before stuffing it back in the bag.

"We're still splitsing, right?" he says, with perhaps 1% of his mouth available for speaking and the other 99% murder machine.

Splits, he always says before you share food. You never had the heart to tell him that it's in the same family as mines or sharesies or takebacks—silly childhood relics, ones that no one uses anymore because they don't mean anything.

This time, you don't hear him because you're thinking about the law school fair you went to before Mingyu picked you up. The future is so close, it scares you. A year from now, what ground would you be standing on? Would it smell like this—the peat, the thread-spool fields, the balm of the ocean? Would you still have Mingyu's finger wrapped round yours?

"Have you decided if you're staying at the farm?" you ask.

"Not really." He uses the back of his hand to wipe off his chin. "If my sister decides to take over, I’m actually kinda thinking of going to pastry school instead of getting a masters."

Mingyu had been toying with the idea for some time after you had talked about it on the outlook. It started off as a joke (September; a galette), then a what if (October; green tea mochi), and now it sits at a kinda.

"Kinda?"

The word gathers speed in the pachinko machine of your mind. You never liked being a kinda person. For Mingyu, it seems like a luxury of a word, but for you, it's really just another thing to hide behind. Kinda talented, kinda ambitious, kinda just there. You're always one foot in, one foot out of something better.

"Yeah, kinda. Why?"

"I dunno. What if we both end up leaving?"

"Maybe. You still want to, right?"

You would be lying if you said you didn't—it's what you always wanted. Seogwipo has been a sun-rot, too-small crutch for you, but you would also be lying if you said you weren't terrified that you'd eventually come back, limping like some doomed Icarus, unable to truly make it in the real world.

Then you think of the pockmarked farmland beside your home, lacy with the fall harvest. Even now, you can trace the endless blue of the coastline all the way there, cut through all the maybes and just let the sound of the ocean fold you into sleep like you were a child again. You wonder if Seohyun, all the way on the other side of the world, ever misses it.

"I’m not sure," you say, because, as much as you don't like it, it's the only answer you have.

"It's ok. You'll figure it out. You always do." He squeezes your cheeks together between his thumb and index, laughing at how they pillow out underneath his fingers. "Screw pastry school. I could come with you. Who else would keep you fed?"

Mingyu's complete and unfounded belief in you makes you feel something close to betrayal. How could he say any of that? With what proof? Only someone like Mingyu would be able to hold the wrinkled fruit of your unremarkable life between his palms and see something better than that. Maybe it's because he grew up on a farm. Either that, or he already cares for you too much, too painfully.

Secrets are easy to keep when they look like yours. At least here, in the pit of your stomach, you can keep count, take attendance of them, all your tittering, small anxieties. Some days it feels like your ribs are pressing out, but it's better than cutting everything loose to spill out over what little you do have control over.

You can handle a little pressure. You have to.

What concerns you is the hand Mingyu's got across your chest. With one look, he just might gut you. A twist of the heart-knife, and all those carefully wound insides carved out in an instant—maybe he'd pity you, but worse than that, he'd likely be disappointed.

For you, expectation has always stood taller than shame, and the idea that he sees something past you makes you want to run away.

"I could be a house husband," he says as easily as ever. "You'll be off saving the world, arguing with whoever, and I'll be there to run you a bath afterwards."

"Let's not get too ahead of ourselves," you reply, binding up the strange, hollow feeling in your stomach with a laugh.

There's a scared little girl hiding inside you, and whether Mingyu sees her or not hurts the same. A spade is a spade. You can only pretend so long.

You look at the taiyaki floating in their wax paper bag, blinded and wrought open by the same grin that now peels you down, and you're not hungry anymore.

iv. winter pears (rotten, outside your parents' house)

Mingyu's family loves Christmas.

You think it's because of the pear trees they have in the front yard. They stand bravely before the house, all emerald ash and wisdom in the December freeze. Run your palms over the knobs and it's like you can see into a sleepy visage of simpler days past. (Below its heart, carved: 1982, the year the farm was bought. Along the tangle of the roots: gyu waz here, in an unsure, childish scrawl.)  

Winter comes to the countryside crawling on its hands and knees. On days it doesn't snow, there's a mist, boggy and clingy. You've come to realize the cold is more of a threat than a promise, and so the pear trees still bear fruit; the silvery branches hang heavy, faithful.

The first day of December, Mingyu's parents had tasked the two of you with decorating the farmhouse, a duty you took very seriously. You wrapped Mingyu up in string lights and watched him blink in and out like your own personal firefly.

It wasn't until you watched the rafters, the barn doors, the joyous vault of the ceiling all glow, like a spectacular firework, that you finally started to understand why Mingyu was so into the holidays.

It was in the yellow blush of the string lights that you had your first pear from the tree, which Mingyu insisted was a holiday tradition. We make poached pears, he said, mid-bite. You simmer the pear in syrup until it gets so soft, you can cut into it with a fork. Just like butter.

That same night, he kissed you, mouth hot and trembling and tasting of honey, and pressed you against the bark so hard, you could feel the grit of its veins against your skin.

You think December became your favorite month, and pears your favorite fruit.

So much so, that for the entire month, you try to put away your worries about law school applications to celebrate with Mingyu and his family.

You learn his mom makes the best hot chocolate (a cinnamon stick and a dogged devotion to the whisk), and that Mingyu has no clue on God's green earth how to ice skate. (He careens right into your chest the first time. You spend the next hour with him attached to you like a backpack—he manages to find the most impractical ways to do anything, which you somehow admire the most). On Sundays, Yizhuo ditches her Seoul friends and instead accompanies you to the mall two towns over, where she watches you compare different ties and watches and collagen creams as you decide on gifts for his family. (Lilac is so last year, she'd say, stirring the straw of a watered-down milk tea.)

It's not until the weekend before Christmas when you realize just how serious things have gotten. Your feet understand the meander of the dirt path to the farmhouse, your bones the scent of the yellow-skinned apple, the faded wildflowers. Your palms crave the plush of the rug they have in front of the fireplace. Hell, you can't even eat soondubu without thinking of the kind Mingyu's dad makes, with extra anchovies and green onion.

You don't think about what this means. There are ten days left in December and love poured from a full cup never seems to run out.

"Please let me carry some of those," Mingyu wheedles. "Oh my god. I'm like the worst boyfriend in the world."

"No, you are not." you make your way up to his doorstep, taking care to one-two step over the stray roots of one of the pear trees. It's second nature to you by now. "The moment I hand you a box, you are gonna start trying to figure out what it is."

He harumphs and plucks the big one off the top anyway, the one he knows you can't reach. "I didn't even know you were getting us gifts. You didn't have to."

"It's the least I could do. Who shows up to a holiday dinner emptyhanded?" You stop at the front door. "And stop shaking it," you laugh, using the tip of your boot to nudge his shin.

"Okay. Okay," he says, saccharine, adoring, before grabbing the doorknob. "Ready? Are you nervous? You shouldn't be nervous, right? It's not fancy or anything, if you were worried about that."

And that's the thing that wedges itself between your ribs. Mingyu and his whole family are like this. They love and worry and love again; it presses deep into you, fills you, and overflows.

So here you are, standing in your nicest dress and balancing a stack of gifts you hope will amount to something, never enough but something, to repay the people who you feel have loved you more than you deserve. It's all you really have. You do your best, and yet you know when that door opens, it'll all be washed away in a high-tide flurry of hugs and laughter and the familiar press of Bobpul's wet nose against your leg. They're just those kinds of people—they would be just as happy if you didn't bring anything at all, and somehow that makes you feel even more guilty.

"No, no," you wave him off. "I’m fine. Excited."

When Mingyu opens the door, everything goes just as you expected. His sister takes your coat, your gifts are whisked away to the tree (Aji has already figured out which one is his), and his parents descend upon you in a choking swell of warmth and charity.

We baked some fresh bread for your parents (—Thank you so much, but you really shouldn't have.). You look so beautiful in that color (—No, no, you flatter me too much.). Mingyu better be taking good care of you (—He is. He really, really is.).

The kitchen is gauzy with cinnamon, anise. They must be making their famous poached pears, which Mingyu remarks on, just like clockwork.

Dinner passes the same way. It bubbles over with affection, and you feel swallowed by an impossible yearning. This—a full table and a hand to hold underneath it—did you deserve this? And could you keep it?

For an instant, you picture yourself, years later, at this same seat. Mingyu would be fussing over the rice cakes, his apron still gingham because it reminds him of the day you two met. His parents, grayer but no less happy, bickering over the shade of tinsel on the tree. And the dogs, coiled at your feet like they are now. The vision laps at your bones like you're a raft in a storm.

You're pulled back into the moment when Mingyu squeezes your hand, grounding and insistent. "Mom asked how school was going. I told her I think you're basically the smartest person I know, and I’m pretty sure you're getting into whatever law school you want."

Mingyu's parents laugh, and they cut through their pears.

"Oh, sorry," you say. "Um."

Clink. Knife meets flesh, meets porcelain. Your cheeks are hot. You wanted to talk about anything other than yourself tonight. Clink.

"The top programs are a reach, but it'd be nice." clink. "I just want to get in somewhere."

"They’re all so far away," Mingyu's mom remarks. "So grown up. Any school will be lucky to have you. You'll get into all of them."

Clink.

"Or maybe you can stay here." You watch the prongs of Mingyu's father's fork disappear into the pear. "Keep us old folk company."

"No, no, I think Mingyu should take notes and get off his lazy ass," his sister says, teasing. "Going back to the city will be good for him."

"So you can, what, burn down the kitchen again?" Mingyu grumbles, and the whole table seems to boil over with laughter.

"We’re kidding," his mom tells you. "No matter where you go, I’m sure you'll do great. We can even throw you a party at the end of the year. For graduating."

Clink. Clink.

There's a horrible uneasiness writhing around in your stomach. It's pear and syrup and clove and a blackness, an anxious, selfish one that sucks up all the generosity of the evening and turns it into shame.

Mingyu's mom is talking about throwing you a graduation party, something you didn't even think to do for yourself, and here you are, thinking about the shaking moment you open your rejection letters and the lonely path you'll draw on your way back home.

It's ok. They missed out, Mingyu would say, pouring you a consolation drink, and then it would be over. You'd go home and sit on your bed and the trifold piece of paper would go round and round your head like it was in a washing machine.

Your heart, an inventory of tasks and goals and tally marks. Things you've taken and things you've owed. It's a soft, boneless excuse. Be grateful. Give them that, at least.

Clink.

Dessert ends before you can tell his family not to get their hopes up. Mingyu's mom sends you off with your loaf of bread and a kiss on the cheek, and the moment is gone.

"Gyu," you call out on the steps in front of the house.

There are words at the seam of your lips. You want to tell him you're sorry for worrying so much. For making the whole dinner about you and then very possibly having nothing to show for it when it matters. For the heaviness in your chest. Your cowardice. But none of it comes out.

Instead you watch Mingyu pull at the leaves of a pear tree, watching the frost-filigree they get at the end of the season. He looks over his shoulder and smiles at you, as if he's on the hazy cover of a magazine. His eyes bend so wonderfully at the corners when he looks at you, and it breaks your heart.

"You had fun, right?" he asks. "My parents like you a lot, you know. I think they really do."

But that's the problem, you want to say. You all do, and I have no idea why.

Some of the pears are beginning to rot now. You watch one drop off the vine, and it caves to the pavement like it was made of nothing at all.

v. wild barley (grows like weeds)

In March, you play house.

Your parents leave on a two week trip to see relatives, and Mingyu takes it upon himself to make sure you survive.

It's a kind, blinding charade.

(7 am, breakfast. You usually don't even eat breakfast, but you wake up to doenjang and a smile, one that presses itself to yours until you're wearing it on the long walk to school.)

(4 pm, the stretch between lunch and dinner. You're muddling through another useless club meeting when Mingyu sends you a picture of him in your mom's apron, making kimchi. Kiss the chef, he texts you. You promise to, over and over and over.)

It's good until it isn't.

That isn't to say that it's Mingyu's fault. In fact, it's never really Mingyu's fault, and that's the worst thing about your relationship. Sometimes you wish he was worse just so there was someone else to blame.

(1 am, a fridge-cold glass of water and a hand on the column of your spine. Can't sleep? He asks. Just had a weird dream, you say.

It's a lie. You're a liar.

You miss your parents and the first wave of acceptance letters comes out in two days. You're not like him. Sleep has never been a cure for the exhaustion you're feeling, and you have no way of telling him that however warm the bed is won't fix that.)

It's on a Thursday afternoon when you open your mailbox and see the tiny, thin envelope that you've been expecting for the past week. You don't need to open it to know what it says, and yet you do it anyway.

The sun is white, a ghost in the spring sky. The ocean bleeds into the overcast, the curly barley stands tall around your feet, and you let the worst letter you've gotten in your life fall upon your shoulders, word by terrible word.

Then you close it, pinching the seam shut, and draw up your brave face. Nothing left to do but be brave. You're convinced you've used up all the sadness in your relationship—spend in pennies and the well still runs dry. Mingyu will cup your cheek and call you darling, pouring into your emptying basin, holey and broken.

You see him now through the kitchen window, Venus in his clamshell of a kitchen. Galbijjim day, he had said this morning. Now, he waves at you, glittery with recognition.

Your throat feels like crumpled paper.

Mingyu smiles at you, hazy through the glass. Your cheeks hurt and your mouth is paper mache, but you smile back anyway.

///

The letters come one after another.

You know what the envelopes hold and yet you keep opening them. The little folder you keep stashed in your bottom drawer gets fatter every passing day because you can't help but revisit your misery, almost as if you need to remind yourself it exists.

Mingyu is none the wiser. Today he decides he'll put off pastry school for one more year. "It doesn't feel like the right time," he says, rolling a log of burdock kimbap up. "You know what I mean?"

No, you don't. You never really do.

You do know, however, that it would feel really fucking bad that, come the end of the year, to have nothing. All your friends would be going somewhere—even Yizhuo opened her acceptance to an MFA program in Shanghai yesterday—and you would be here, still, feet firmly planted in the muddy Jeju dirt like they always had been.

"Hey, don't look so disappointed." he jokes. "Don't tell me you're already trying to get rid of me."

You're not, you really aren't. But part of you wonders if it's just a race to the bottom. If you got rid of him before he decided he wanted to get rid of you, maybe it would hurt a lot less. One less letter for the folder.

"Never. But imagine if you picked up a French accent at pastry school. Then I’d consider it. Maybe."

You watch his knife rock back and forth on the cutting board as he cuts the kimbap.

"Some for you. And more for me," he says, in what you can only describe as someone attempting to speak French when they've never heard it before. "Unless you want more, mon cherie."

He brings the plates to the table, his grin nothing short of dizzying.

"I’m irresistible, huh? Still wanna leave me now?"

"You're gonna have to try a little harder than that, I think."

The words roll off your tongue, easily, traitorously.

You watch the kimbap disappear off of Mingyu's plate.

Going, going, gone.

///

Seogwipo is always dark at night, only kept alive by the glow of the moonlit sea.

You can't sleep. Again. And so you sit out on the steps in front of your house, letting the twilight wrap around you like a blanket.

You got your last letter back earlier today. You held your breath and tore it open like you would a birthday card with money in it.

Waitlisted.

It was surely better than a rejection, but some naive, child-eyed part of you thought that if you had just closed your eyes and hoped hard enough, things would work out the way you had planned. Tragically, it wasn't enough this time. You wanted and wanted and you thought maybe that would mean you'd come close to deserving it.

Your parents called today. After managing to sideline the issue of basically the rest of your entire life, they had finally cut through your sad little charade. No good news yet, huh?

No, but—

It was always like that with you. No, but it's not as bad as you think. No, but give me a chance. No, but I’m trying. I've been trying.

You wish things didn't come out of you so complicated. That you could be like Seohyun, who could go through school with her eyes closed and still graduate at the top of her class. Instead, you parade around your little failures, trying to convince people it all could mean something only if they squinted. See? It isn't so bad.

You think you're past the point of crying about it. Your stomach hurts, you're cold, and most of all, you just want to go back to bed. Plus, although Mingyu sleeps like a log, you think he's developed a sixth sense for whenever you get up too early.

Time to be brave, you've been telling yourself, although you don't know who you're pretending for anymore.

So you nudge the front door open—it's so old, it wails if you come at it with any more force—and, to your surprise, see the light above the kitchen sink turned on.

It's not very bright, but it's enough to make out Mingyu's broad silhouette, back turned to you as he makes a cup of tea. He's humming one of his made-up songs.

"Mingyu?"

"There you are," he says, turning around. "Just came out to check on you. And make you some tea."

The kettle whizzes. Your gut twists.

You still haven't said anything to Mingyu. To manage your own disappointment was one thing—you don't think you could handle another person's. And yet when he stands there, Pororo mug between his huge hands, you feel as if you are holding a knife, big and guilty and bloody.

"I-I'm fine, Gyu. Honest." you watch his expression flicker, unreadable in the persimmon lamplight. "Sorry you had to come out. It's chilly out here."

"You know, you can tell me what's going on. I won't judge."

No, no, no. This is the last conversation you wanted to have, with the last person you wanted to have it with.

You feel feverish. You think your hands are shaking.

"Mingyu, I swear—"

"Whatever it is, we can fix it. I know we can."

That almost makes you want to laugh if you didn't want to cry so bad. Of fucking course he would say that. Mingyu, who treats life like it's the watermelon trick he showed you on the outlook, wants to put a bandaid on this whole thing, as if that could come close to fixing it.

He'd tell you to curl up on the couch with a bad movie while he orders takeout. Kiss you on the top of the head. It's ok, baby. Just another bad day for the person who has the worst luck in the world. Another lump of problems for him to try and make better. If he isn't sick of you now, he sure would be soon enough.

"It’s okay," you say, steeling your voice. "It really isn't a big deal. Let's just go back to sleep."

You try to walk away, but the hardness in Mingyu's eyes roots you down to the tile.

"Stop doing that."

"Doing what?"

"Pushing me away," he swallows. "Like you always do. I know something's going on."

"I’m not, i just—"

"You just what? You can't help it?"

"No, I—"

"Because you like to know that you can? That you can say whatever and then watch me come back?" A fragmented, heavy silence thrums between you. He's looking at you like he's daring you to say something, anything. His gaze is black. "What am I good for if you can't tell me anything?"

There's that familiar, stinging pressure behind your eyes. You think you're crying, but you're not sure. Maybe you've been crying this whole time.

"Fine," you bite. Your blood feels like hot metal. "You really wanna know? I didn't get into law school. There. Happy now?"

Mingyu looks stung.

"W-why didn't you tell me?"

Because I thought you would stop loving me. I thought you would have finally had enough.

"Because it's not all about you, Mingyu."

The words, selfish and damning, burn your tongue. Mingyu is right. This is what you always do. You fuck up and then make everyone else hurt for it.

"I'm sorry," Mingyu says. His voice doesn't sound like his. Instead, the words seem to hang in the air, trembling and holding their breath, waiting for an apology you can't give yet. "I shouldn't have—"

"It's ok." You swallow hard, and it hurts. "Let's just go back to bed."

It's getting colder and colder. You think there's a little hole in your sock, right above the cat's whiskers.

Mingyu doesn't reach for you as he passes to get to the hallway. Maybe he doesn't know how to anymore.

The Pororo cup is left abandoned on the counter. You walk over and read the label on the tea bag—barley, because you have class tomorrow morning.

You pick it up, let the ceramic buzz between your hands with whatever warmth it has left, and hold it to your lips.

It's cold now, but all you can think to do is drink it. Erase all the evidence that tonight ever happened, and maybe it'll be nothing more than a bad dream in the morning.

There's honey at the bottom of the cup. It sears the back of your throat, but you drink until there's nothing left.

vi. the peach blossoms (without fail, bloom every August. I miss you.)

You broke up the next day.

Even now, you remember what happened. You had woken up early that morning to make your own breakfast because you couldn't allow Mingyu to give you any more of himself. Your hands could only hold, shatter, so much.

"Mingyu, I think we should...." You looked at the zigzags of jam on your toast, angry and uneven. "I think we should stop seeing each other. For now," you had added, as if that made anything better at all.

Somehow that seemed more merciful at the time. Really, you think it just showed your cowardice. If you were going to break his heart, you might as well have gone all the way the first time.

Maybe it was a good thing that Mingyu saw right through you. He always did.

"So that's it, huh? You're just gonna give up on us?"

"No, I just...need some time."

"How long?" he asked. "Be honest with me. Because you know I’ll wait."

"I don't know." You couldn't meet his gaze. His eyes reached and reached over that kitchen table and you denied him even that.

"Don't you always know?" he asked, pitifully, desperately. "Don't you want this to work?"

And you did. In fact, you don't think you had ever wanted anything more, and it was that that scared you. You had already lost law school—you couldn't let the only other thing in your life let you go. So you pulled the trigger first.

"We should just end things. I'm sorry. I can't give you what you need."

He packed his bag within the hour, and you think everything, from then on, froze inside you. You didn't move from your seat until your parents came home from the airport later that day and asked why there were two plates of toast still on the table.

You think you knew, someplace, inevitably, this would happen. You, who only knew hunger, had reached deep inside Mingyu and rooted out a love you didn't think you were worthy of having. And yet you still ate from the vine, bite after guilty bite, until you couldn't take any more. The only time he asked you for anything at all, you couldn't give it to him—such was the irony of your relationship.

Maybe you were doomed the moment the first strawberry hit your tongue, just like you had said, all that time ago.

About a month later, you got another letter in the mail. Chungnam National University Law School, it read. This one was fat, in one of those brown envelopes lined with bubble wrap. Somehow, miraculously, that position on the waitlist had turned into an acceptance. You held the package to your chest and cried, loud and with abandon, as if taking a deep breath after almost drowning.

Ironically, the first person you wanted to tell was Mingyu. But the good news you needed to save your relationship came too little, too late. Perhaps that meant it had no legs to stand on in the first place, but that didn't stop you from missing it. Instead, you told Yizhuo, and she drove you to Jeju City and treated you to dinner. "You should just call him," she had said. "Hey, don't look at me like that. He'd probably pick up on the first ring."

The city is swathed in August's crimson summer—peach season. The narrow streets are lined with peach trees, the fruits glowing like fat drops of sunlight. All you do these days is plan for your eventual move to Daejeon and the start of a life that seems newer and shinier than your own. But surrounded by the cicada song, the velvet treeline, the rain-soaked asphalt, somehow you think you're going to miss Seogwipo more than you think.

(Fickle, fickle heart. You always needed things to be taken away to really be able to appreciate them. Somehow, all that wanting had boiled down to something more satisfying, more filling.)

You wonder how Mingyu is. Now that you think about it, he seems just as much a part of Seogwipo as the farm he lives on. It was only last summer when you had first met him in the field, set on fire by the strawberry harvest. You think about him now, peddling around that ridiculous wicker basket to make jam. Maybe talking to another pretty girl, someone as naive, cruel as you had been.

Not long ago, you considered calling him to apologize, but that'd just be another thing to be selfish about. A little time and some warm weather, and I’m calling to finally wash my hands of you. That's what it would sound like, no matter what you said. Still, it didn't stop you from thinking of him, every flower, every season.

"You know, I always wanted to grow peach trees. But I think we've always been a pear kind of family."

Mingyu. If a voice could cut through air, it'd be his.

You whip around, half-believing you're hearing things. Certainly that would be easier, but you're learning that there are some things you can't run from.

And like a picture, Mingyu stands tall, golden, framed by the peach blossoms. Not a thing about him has changed. Not even the way he looks at you.

"Mingyu," you breathe. Unfortunately, none of the times you replayed your last conversation with him help you come up with something to say, because in none of them did you anticipate him coming back. "W-what are you doing here?"

"I live here, silly."

"No way," you reply, scrambling. "Crazy, because I live here too."

You both laugh nervously, a silly, bubbly thing, but you feel like you're going to throw up. It's only now that you realize you're kind of on the walk to his place. Seogwipo has never had places to hide.

"I...um." You try and disentangle the guilt from the nostalgia from the scent of the peaches and the warmth on his face. They all look the same. You missed him. "I got into law school. In Daejeon."

"I heard," he says. "Not surprised at all. I always knew you would."

"Thank you. I mean it." The cicadas buzz around you, as if they know they have an important silence to fill. "You're staying in town, right?"

"Actually, I decided to apply to culinary school. It finally felt right, you know? I'm leaving at the end of the summer, but it's just in Jeju City. I couldn't leave the island."

"Thank goodness. I don't know if you could tell, but I kind of always hoped you would. I don't think I’ve ever eaten better food." Your voice wobbles, but it gets there. "You'll do amazing."

Then time stretches and forces you to recognize, reckon with, the moment you're in. You wonder if he feels the same way you do—bruised, overripe. If there's still a space in his heart for you.

Deep breath. Life only gives you so many chances.

"Mingyu, I’m sorry. I'm sorry I couldn't make us work. You deserved better." Saying it feels like peeling the skin of your heart back. There's still a palpable distance between the two of you—you think that had always been there—but it feels more comfortable in a way it never did before.

"Don’t apologize," he says, easily, as he always does. Everything seems to flow off him like water, and you think that's the part of him you loved the most because it was the one thing you couldn't touch. "We loved each other. I think that much was true."

A jasmine breeze curls through the trees, sending the blossoms fluttering around you like ink in water. The very first time you met Mingyu, you thought the image of him, haloed with the sunset, was the one you wanted to keep forever. And yet, somehow, you don't think you'll ever forget the way he looks right now.

"Will you ever come back to Seogwipo?" you ask.

"I was gonna ask you the same thing—you were always the one who wanted to get out of here." He grins, ear to ear. "Of course I'm coming back. There's nowhere I'd rather be."

"Yeah. I think I know what you mean."

The sea, the clay dirt, Mingyu. Even yourself, clumsy and care-worn. You think, somewhere along the line, you forgot how to love. But you're learning—one step at a time.

"Friends," you say. "Let's be friends. If you'll let me."

"Thought you would never ask. Gladly. Always." The space between you seizes, like it's holding in a breath. Maybe one day, you'll think of closing it once more, but you like where you stand now. You can admire him better from a distance, without your fingerprints all over him. He stuffs his hands in his pockets, something he does before he gets ready to leave. But before he does—"I'll see you soon, okay? You better come back. Promise me."

For the first time, you see the honesty in his eyes and you really, truly believe him.

"Promise."

The Seogwipo sun is high and red in the sky when you wave Mingyu goodbye. It feels like you're coming to an end of a long summer, but you're not afraid. You watch the wind dance through the peach blossoms, their branches never searching, never wanting, and you finally feel as if you've arrived home.

[coolprettyleo]

truth, dare, spin bottle - jack hughes

wc: 2.1k

tw: parties, slight angst, falling, drinking alc, cringe games, hs friends

jack hughes x oc

so highschool au

☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆☆

jack watched as marley sat at the corner of the rink fiddling with her camera. it had been two weeks since she started working with the usantdp boys and he was making no progress in the plan of how to get the girl.

he had only managed to awkwardly flirt with her while she stared at him clueless. he was pretty sure she didn't even realize he was flirting.

"you like taking pictures?" he asked the girl as she nodded.

"yeah, it's pretty cool" she mumbled

"you going to the party on friday?" he asked, trying to desperately hold a conversation with the girl.

the thing about marley, though, is that she's never been romantically involved with anyone, ever. so anytime a guy tried to flirt with the girl she would shut down.

"i don't like parties," she said

"have you ever even been to a party?" he asked teasingly as she blushed embarrassed

"i never have time. plus i have a football game that day-"

"it's going to be after, obviously,"

"sorry i rather sleep, to be honest," she said a bit dryly coming across as a bit bitchy but that only made jack want to pursue the girl ten times more,

"well think about it, i'll be there" he said with a charming smile before walking away.

leaving the girl to sit with her own thoughts. she had never been interested in attending any party that consisted of drunk teenagers, but something was screaming at her to go, and she wondered if it had anything to do with the blue-eyed hockey player.

___

marley and her friends sat around the lunch table on friday as brady talked about driving arrangements. usually, the girl would sit quietly and eat her lunch at times like these; her friends knew the girl wouldn't go, but she had considered going.

"where is it at?" she asked curiosuly as her whole table shut up.

"by lowes. why? do you want to go?" oliver said excitedly.

"oh my gosh. it's happening," as her best friends squealed.

"i have a shirt that will make your boobs look awesome"

"i'll bring you some seltzers"

"please let me curl your hair"

"you can come in our car"

her friends let out excitdly. they had been begging the girl to go to a party since they started, and she always shut down any ideas, so when planning to go out, they knew not to ask the girl. so today was a big day for the friend group. their baby was finally growing up in their eyes.

"GUYS!" she raised her voice at her overly excited friends

"i was just wondering," she said as she put a fry in her mouth as they all eyed her suspiciously.

"you never just wonder," oliver pressed.

"one of the hockey guys told me to go-" she said before being cut off by squeals and the guys letting out 'no ways' and snickers. all surprised in their goody tissues friend.

"that makes a lot more sense now," her friend jackie said.

"which one" mary nosily asked looking behind them at the table where the hockey players sat.

"don't make it obvious," she groaned at her friends, who all turned.

"we just need to make sure he's good for you marls" brady told the girl as they let out snickers.

"if I tell you guys, you can't say anything or even look their way," she said as they all put up pinkies.

"I think his name is jack," she said as the girls squealed and the guy's eyes went wide.

"dude your set for life if you get with him"

"he's cute!!"

"he's projected to go number one"

"you have to go tonight"

her friends all flooded her with thoughts she hadn't even thought about. he wasn't inviting her to get with her, right?

"It's not like that. he was just being nice." she calmed her friends down as they all looked at her like she had three heads.

"oh sweet innocent marls, you have so much to learn" marnie said wrapping her arms around marley as the friend group snickered and nodded at the girl.

___

marley walked out of the football game with no intentions of going to that party.

"marley!" she heard and turned to see brady jogging up to her with oliver and garrett in tow.

"we're meeting the girls at jackies to pregame, you're coming with us," garret said

"hell no. my leg hurts so bad, I landed from my toe touch awkwardly," she complained as they rolled their eyes.

"i don't care. you're going tonight." oliver smirked as he gave the guys the go. garret reached for her cheer bag before oliver threw the girl over his shoulder. brady with keys in hand.

"guys don't be annoying" she squealed

"if you don't have fun tonight, we'll never make you go to a party again," brady said as she groaned.

"at least make sure my ass isnt out" she said feeling inscure knowing there was people most likely watching them.

she felt oliver flip her skirt down and hold it as they walked to the car, not knowing the certain boys that were watching.

"are they a thing?" cole asked as jack watched like a kicked puppy

"i didn't think so," he said as trevor patted his back

"that would explain why she wasn't really flirting back with you," he said as jack slightly glared.

"let's just go," he said before driving away.

___

marley walked into the party a bit tipsy. she was already two drinks in with a seltzer in hand as she looked around. it was a shock for the girl to see people she thought she knew making out, hitting vapes, and feeling up on each other at every corner.

she followed her friends deeper into the party as her eyes roamed the party, hoping to find the hockey player who had told her to go. she soon found him surrounded by his friends with a beer in hand, looking as handsome as ever.

instead of going up to him and making her presence known like she thought she would, she hid behind oliver.

"what are you doing?" he laughed at the girl as he followed her line of sight; he truly did see her as a younger sister, and the fact she was so nervous about a boy was so funny to him.

"I'm feeling insecure about being here," she told the boy as he frowned.

"you shouldn't, you're one of the hottest girls in school it's no surprise he has a thing for you," he said as she looked at him odd

"how do you know he has a thing for me?" she pressed as oliver threw his head back and laughed.

"I'm a guy, marls," he said as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. she rolled her eyes and took another sip as she went to dance with the girls.

meanwhile, jack was watching the two with a glare,

"do you want me to ask garret if there a thing?" alex asked as he followed his gaze to marley. he was friends with the lacrosse player and he knew he would tell him if he asked.

"i don't think they are" cole said before jack could even respond.

"it's fine guys-"

he was cut off when the guy in question came to dab alex up, going around the group to be polite.

"hey, question, which of the girls in your group is single," he said as he looked at the dancing girls.

"aside from marnie, all of them. except I know jackies seeing one of the football players"

"oh," alex said as jack allowed himself to relax again

"why do you ask?" he said

"thought they were cute," alex tried to to play it off. jack could have sworn he saw garret look at him.

"we're getting bored; we were planning to play spin the bottle upstairs in a bit; you should bring the girls," alex said nonchalantly.

"I'll let them know," garret said before walking off.

___

the upstairs bedroom reeked with beer as marley stood in the corner. when garret asked if they'd be down to play games with the hockey players, her friends were quick to jump at the opportunity.

"whoever the bottle lands on, you have to choose between truth or dare," trevor said, putting the bottle in the middle and spinning it, for it to land on mary.

"truth," she said

"who was your first kiss" trevor smirked.

"austin logan" she said. marley blushed because if she got that question, she would have to voice the fact she's never kissed anyone.

mary spinned the bottle for it to land on the one and only, jack hughes. the girl looked at marley and smirked. as jack mumbled 'truth'.

"whose the hottest girl in this room," she asked the boy who only smirked while looking at marley

"marley love" he said without skipping a beat holding eye contact with the girl as the boys clapped him on the back and let out 'whoops'. the girl blushed crimson red not knowing how to react.

"i'm gonna go refill my drink," she mumbled to her friends before basically speeding out of the room.

leaving everyone to stare at each other. jack felt horrible after seeing the embarrassed look on her face, so when marnie stood up to chase after her, he told her he had it and went after the girl.

"marley!" he said over the music as the girl turned around.

"oh hi jack" she said a bit chirpy

"I'm sorry if I embarrassed you. I do really think you're the hottest girl," he explained as she kept a straight face

"thanks, you are too- well not the hottest girl; but like your cute too not that you arent hot, because you are. but I'm not calling you a girl or anything" she finished with a gulp as he smiled down at the girl. she was tipsy and he could clearly see that.

"yeah?" he said hoping she'd keep rambling. he loved her voice and could listen to it for hours.

"mmhm," she said, looking at his lips, an act that didn't get noticed by jack.

"you wanna go back? or we could go somewhere quieter-" he said hoping this was his moment to make progress.

"actually, if you're not drinking, you think you could take me home?" she asked, feeling like going home.

"completely sober, yeah," he said, flashing the girl his keys as she smiled and went to bid her friends goodbye.

___

the two entered jack's car with an uncomfortable silence.

"so how was your first party," he asked the girl as he drove.

"everything I thought it would be, to be honest," she said as he smiled.

"i'm glad you had fun-"

"oh my gosh! can we stop for tacos!" she said as he drove by a whole bunch of taco trucks.

"you have a curfew?" he asked a bit skeptically, knowing the girl wouldn't normally be out this late.

"no, my grandmas asleep. I should be fine," she said as jack pulled over and wondered why she lived with her grandma. he just wanted to know her.

"don't open the door," he said as he saw her reach for the door

"what?" she giggled at the boy as he ran around the car and opened the door for her.

"I'm being a gentleman," he said smugly.

"someone has a crush," she sang as he rolled his eyes.

"as if i haven't made that obvious" he sassily told the girl as she laughed

"well, i never knew! you're not as good a flirter as you think you are" she told him as he gasped

"I mean, you're here," he quipped back as she let out another laugh. Jack felt a rush of adrenaline, knowing he had caused that.

"I- you have a point," she said, accepting her defeat.

the girl ordered, and as she reached to pull out her card, jack was already handing the cashier his card.

"jack-"

"it's on me" he said as he smiled.

"i feel bad, i made you drive me and now you're buying me food-"

"you can repay me with a date," he told the girl as her eyebrows raised.

"you're serious," she said, looking for any form of jokiness, and all she saw was a hopeful look.

"why you barely even know me"

"I want to know you," he said, and the girl could squeal. He knew all the perfect things to say, and she was finally getting why all these girls would jump headfirst into a guy.

she smiled at the boy before outstretching her hand,

"deal"

[rhiannonsknife]

Okay okay so hear me out.

Imagine the Yellowjackets are actually at the nationals instead of the plane crashing. And Jackie desperately tries to avoid r BUT the coach puts them in the same room for whatever reason, maybe shauna and jackie were playing around too much so as punishment shauna had to switch with r.

Now that they’re both forced to be closer than usual Jackie is genuinely losing her mind and her emotions are ALL around. Maybe they hook up, maybe not. Or they have a GENUINE conversation for once, which surprises Jackie..

You can do whatever you want with that idea, it’s totally up to you

— summary: secretly hooking up with jackie taylor. part 1. part 2.

— warnings: implied internalized homophobia & cheating. angst. hurt/no comfort because this is how things are done here. fem!reader. nsfw content. mdni.

— a/n: enough with the jackie taylor fluff, back to the filthy lesbian sex + angst. you’re welcome.

the hallway of the hotel buzzes with the usual pre-competition chaos: teammates of various different schools all across the states scurrying between rooms, the sound of laughter and last-minute pep talks echoing off the walls. nationals. the peak of everything the yellowjackets had worked for all season. your last chance to win the thing as a team before most of you graduate.

obviously, jackie should feel excited, focused, and ready to step onto that court and lead her team to victory one final time.

instead, her stomach churns, and it has absolutely nothing to do with the pressure of the next couple of days.

“switching rooms is a terrible idea,” she reasons, arms crossed tightly over her chest as she glares at coach martinez.

“this is not a debate, taylor,” he replies, voice clipped. “this isn’t summer camp. you’re here to win, not distract your teammates with shipman. now get your stuff and make the swap. it’s only a weekend”

jackie glances sideways, catching your eye from where you stand a little further down the hall. you’re leaning casually against the wall, trying to act like you’re not paying attention, but she knows better. you’ve always been good at reading her, too good for her comfort. what you’re not so good at is pretending.

she can see the way you’re watching the exchange, trying to hide the obvious amusement in your gaze as jackie tries to reason with the coach.

she’s been doing her absolute best to keep her distance, to keep things simple and clean. nationals are stressful enough without throwing whatever this is into the mix. but now, thanks to shauna’s antics, the universe has decided to test her self-control all over again.

with a resigned sigh and not another look back at coach martinez, jackie grabs her bag and stalks toward her new room.

you’re barely done setting your things down when she barges past you and into the space

“hello to you too, roomie” you mutter as you close the door on your own way in.

she shoots you a look, tossing her bag onto the other bed with more force than necessary. “don’t get too comfortable,” she mutters. “this isn’t permanent”

“oh?” you say, raising an eyebrow. “didn’t realize you had the power to override coach’s orders all of a sudden”

jackie’s jaw tightens, her posture stiffening as she stands by the bed. “i don’t,” she snaps, her voice sharp. “but i’ll talk to him tomorrow and get it fixed. until then, just…stay on your side of the room”

you scoff, setting your bag down with a little more force than necessary. “stay on my side of the room? what are we? fucking twelve?”

jackie glares at you. “i’m serious,” she says, brushing past you to grab her toiletries from her bag. “i don’t want any trouble”

“trouble?” you repeat, your voice rising slightly. truthfully, you don’t mean to. but ever since you started whatever this is between you, jackie has been doing the same thing over and over: pushing you away, pretending like you don’t exist at all. she won’t even look at you in school. all you can do is watch when she’s with jeff instead, holding his hands or kissing him in the hall, for once not afraid of the affection

“you’re the one acting like this is the end of the world. it’s just one night, jackie. maybe try not making it weird for once”

jackie freezes mid-motion, her hand gripping the zipper of her duffel bag. when she turns to face you, there’s a familiar edge in her expression. “i’m making it weird?” she shoots back. “you think i want to be stuck here with you?”

the words hit harder than they should, but you refuse to let her see the sting. of course jackie taylor wouldn’t want to be caught in the same room with you if you’re not knuckle deep inside her simultaneously.

“right,” you say flatly, crossing your arms. “because it’s so awful being in the same room as me, huh? god forbid we have to actually talk like normal people”

jackie flinches at the unexpected bitterness in your tone, but she doesn’t back down either. “i’m just saying,” she starts. “this is nationals. it’s a big deal. we should be focusing on the game, not…whatever”

“whatever,” you echo, narrowing your eyes. “right. because that’s all this is to you. just some ‘whatever’”

her cheeks flush, and she glances away, busying herself with folding a stray sweatshirt. “i didn’t say that,” she mutters.

“you didn’t have to,” you reply, your voice slightly quieter now, but no less tense. “you know, for someone who’s so concerned about ‘trouble,’ you’re pretty good at creating it”

jackie’s hands still, her knuckles whitening as she grips the shirt tightly. for a moment, it looks like she might say something, but then she exhales sharply and shoves the sweatshirt away. a part of you would prefer it if she actually did. if she, for once, recognizes what you two have, rather than keeping it something shameful. something unspoken. it shouldn’t surprise you that she doesn’t.

“i’m going to take a shower,” jackie announces instead. “just…stay out of my way”

she doesn’t wait for a response before grabbing her things and heading for the door, leaving you alone in the too-quiet room. the door slams shut behind her, and you sink onto the edge of your bed, rubbing a hand over your face.

this wasn’t what you had envisioned for the nationals. you didn’t ask to be thrown into a room with jackie, but now that you are, you can’t help the frustration bubbling beneath the surface. why do you have to be punished, just because she and shauna can’t behave?

jackie has been keeping you at arm’s length for months now, barely acknowledging you outside of stolen moments behind closed doors that she won’t talk about. and now, trapped in this tiny room together, all the tension and unspoken words feel like they’re pressing down on you, endlessly heavy and suffocating.

when she finally returns, her hair damp and her face scrubbed clean, the air between you is no less charged.

she moves stiffly, avoiding your gaze as she sets her toiletries down and climbs into bed without a word. you briefly consider saying something to break the silence, but the memory of her earlier words

you think I want to be stuck here with you?

holds you back. instead, you turn off the bedside lamp and lie down on your back, the too-small room plunging into darkness.

a long time passes by in the familiar silence. it’s all it ever is with jackie: radio silence until it’s not an inconvenience for her to want you. then, you’ll have her for a couple of hours, before things go back to how they were before.

the other bed creaks softly beside you as jackie shifts, her back to you. for a second, you think she’s fallen asleep already. then you hear her sigh, low and almost inaudible.

despite everything, her sharp words, her cold demeanor, you know jackie, for better or for worse. you know she’s scared, for reasons beyond you, and conflicted. she’s trying so desperately to pretend to be something she’s not. and she would've been able to succeed with it, had it not been for you.

the silence stretches on, thick and heavy. at some point, you roll onto your side, your back to hers too, determined to get some sleep, yet to no avail. you hear it before she speaks: the faintest shift of the mattress as jackie turns.

“are you awake?” she murmurs, her voice hesitant.

you don’t answer right away, torn between wanting to keep your distance and the part of you that aches to close the gap between you. finally, you whisper, “yeah”

she falls silent for a moment, and you can almost sense her weighing whether or not to say more.

you hear movement in the dark, and you’re about to turn when the mattress dips by your legs where jackie has sat. ”i didn’t mean what i said earlier. about not wanting to be here“

you swallow hard, your heart thudding in your chest. you don’t dare to turn and look at her. “then why say it?”

jackie hesitates. you can feel her shift closer, the warmth of her body radiating against your back. a part of you wants to push her away. another, stronger and more determined part wants her endlessly closer. “because it’s easier,” she admits quietly. you force yourself to fight against the shiver that threatens to run down your back when she curls up against you, her breath warm on your shoulder blade. “it’s easier to push you away than…than deal with any of this”

her words hang in the air, and you find yourself turning to face her. the darkness between you doing nothing to hide the vulnerability in her expression from this close. this, you realize as you take in jackie’s features, is the most vulnerable she’s ever been around you.

“how do you feel?” you ask, your voice barely above a whisper.

jackie’s gaze drops, her fingers curling into the edge of the blanket between you. “i don’t know,” she says, but the tremble in her voice betrays her. “i just know that when i’m with you, everything gets so…complicated”

you reach out, your hand brushing against hers. “it doesn’t have to be”

jackie doesn’t move, her eyes locked on yours. then, slowly, tentatively, she closes the distance between you, her lips brushing yours in a kiss that’s equal parts hesitation and longing.

when she finally pulls away, her forehead rests against yours, and she exhales shakily. “this doesn’t change anything,” she whispers. there she is again. the jackie you know. the jackie you will despise again in the morning. the jackie you have, unfortunately, fallen in love with months ago, long before she decided that you were worth to keep around for some occasional hook ups.

you don’t respond verbally. if this is all of her that you’ll get tonight, you will still very much take it.

jackie’s fingertips trace your cheeks as your mouths move together. you’re not even sure who has leaned in first this time, only that you’re kissing her again and that she’s kissing you back just as eagerly.

her lips are so soft against yours it’s unfair, yet they’re demanding and hungry, ravishing your mouth in a way you never dared to imagine. simultaneously, her hands are running all over you, wherever jackie can reach. frustrated with how restrictive these blankets are, she grunts and pushes them aside.

with the newfound space, she smoothly slides on top of you, your legs tangling together on the plain bedsheets.

“come here” she murmurs, closing the distance between you again. you part your lips almost immediately, giving in to all that stupid, pent-up hunger.

it’s not long after, that you try bucking your hips upward, chasing after a pressure she is not yet providing. jackie has never been one to give. you can remember the one single time where she’s actually shoved her hand down your pants. it’d been in the back of your car, from a slightly awkward angle and without much aftercare to it. but it had been, to this day, one of your best orgasms simply because it was jackie taylor’s hand that had been touching you that night. to this day, it is what you think back to when you’re alone in your room.

now, she seems oddly eager to touch you. except this time, you realize, you have time. there are no parents anywhere nearby, no jeff that could catch or overhear you. just the two of you, in the middle of the night.

maybe coach martinez had, unknowingly done you the biggest favor of your lifetime.

you bite your lip when jackie leans back to look down at you. her hair is a mess, her chest heaving with how hard she’s panting.

one tug is all it takes before she’s all over you again, caging you in between her forearms on either side of your head. you bury your hands in her hair and allow yourself to pretend that any of this is normal.

her shirt comes off first, tossed off the bed carelessly. you sit before her, hands roaming her sides, eyes glued to her chest. yours is next and jackie seems almost impatient to peel it off of you. once you’re both topless, she pushes you back into the mattress and straddles your hips.

you moan into her mouth when her bare breasts slide up against yours. eager to feel more of this, for as long as she lets you, you arch your back up against jackie. she groans softly into your mouth, the noise shooting straight between your legs.

“jackie” you manage. your fingers have, without you even noticing, wrapped around her forearms in a silent plea for her to stay this close. you only let go when she puts her mouth to the side of your neck and sucks.

well, this is new, you briefly think. jackie, for obvious reasons, never lets you mark her up at all. but you didn’t think of her as one to be into leaving hickeys. how you’ll cover them in the morning is a problem for your future self. for now, you just don’t want her to stop. whatever has gotten into her tonight, you want more of it.

“jackie” you sigh again, more urgency in your voice this time. “touch me”

she leans back from where she had her face buried in the crook of your neck. for a moment, as your hand slides from the back of her head, you think you’ve messed it all up. you’d been playing with fire from the start. and now you’ve pushed her too far, asked for too much. then, an unfamiliar determination flickers over jackie’s face, and her fingers drop down to your shorts.

“holy shit” you can’t help but mutter when she, unlike what you expected, doesn’t immediately shove her hand down past the waistline. instead, jackie pushes them all the way down your legs with your help, leaving you in your underwear. she watches as you kick them off, then turns back to face you. you do notice that she’s purposefully not looking right at you, but you don’t mind it all that much when she settles down beside you and runs her flat palm down your body.

her fingers briefly brush over your nipples but don’t waste any time to get to where you both want them the most. you’ve learned to love jackie in the quiet, stolen moments in between. you can’t miss anything you’ve never had and only the comfort of a bed and a room all to yourselves seems too luxurious to be true. you’re not going to ruin this for yourself by getting caught up in the lack of proper foreplay.

you involuntarily spread your legs wider for jackie when she reaches your underwear and you can feel her smile against the side of your neck, where she’s resting her head.

when her index finger runs over the fabric there, her mouth falls open. she must feel the wet patch of your arousal.

“you’re so-“ she gasps, just barely managing to cut herself off in time. jackie taylor doesn’t speak to you while she gets you off. she clears her throat and makes up by finally pushing your underwear aside.

you have to slam a hand over your mouth so your next-door neighbors won’t hear the sound you make when jackie circles your clit for the first time. she’s deliberate, her wrist moving in firm, clockwise circular motions.

the blankets rustle quietly as she adjusts, propping her weight down on one hand as she lingers above you and watches, then presses down harder.

your head falls back into the pillows and your jaw goes slack. to your surprise, jackie’s expression is a reflection of your own: her mouth hangs open as though she’s the one who’s getting touched, and her eyes are heavy as they study your reactions. just by the way she’s touching you, you wouldn’t know that this is only her second time doing this. she must've been attentive to the way you've been touching her during all of your past hook-ups.

you can feel how wet you’re getting -embarrassingly fast. her fingers slide over you in no time whatsoever, gathering your arousal on them before pushing it up and over your clit.

a shuddered breath falls from your lips. jackie is still watching you, alternating between your face (yet never your eyes) and where her hand is moving between your legs.

she keeps this up until you can feel her in every single nerve ending. whether jackie knows this or not, though something tells you that she does, this is not quite enough to make you cum. it’s merely enough to get you towards that edge, toeing it, yet never falling over. the pressure isn’t hard enough, the sensation too brief.

in spite of yourself, you begin to rock your hips into her hand. at this point, you’re so wet it’s dripping through your underwear. there’s no reason to hide your own desperation anymore when she can feel it herself.

“jackie-“ you gasp. it’s tortuously good.

the first time she looks into your eyes that night is when she dips her soaked finger lower and pushes it inside. the moan that you let out at this is definitely too loud for a packed hotel, but she makes no attempt to hush you.

you can feel the place where jackie's pebbled nipples press against you, every inch of exposed skin curled up with your own, and her breath fans against your earlobe. you’re half convinced you’re only imagining it when she whispers: “you like this?”

you hardly hear the words at all, drowned out by your own, mindless gasps and the sounds coming from where jackie is pounding into you; the obscenely slick noises.

she’s deep. she’s so deep inside of you, her delicate fingers pressing deeper than she’s ever been before. it’s the first time you actually feel her there and that alone is enough for your eyes to roll back in your head.

“yeah” you manage just so.

“yeah?” jackie pouts, almost mockingly, forcing them inside some more.

“oh my god” is all you can say to that.

usually, it would be you touching her. this is one of those rare occasions where the roles are reversed. where jackie gets to touch you. to fuck you, really: she's pressing her hips against you from where she’s lingering on top, draws them back as she does the same with her hand, then snaps them back immediately the moment she pumps her fingers into you. like she’s really fucking you, you think.

it briefly occurs to you that maybe, if jackie is so eager for this, you’ll have to invest in a strap so that you can fill each other up properly. then again, it would probably be too much to bring this idea up to her. you’ll consider yourself lucky if she so much as looks at you after tonight.

as soon as jackie’s third finger slips into you, you no longer bother to even try and hold your head up. she’s never fucked you like that and you’ll spend the rest of your life wishing for this feeling back.

she’s steadily pressing, curling, and exploring with three of her fingers and all you can do is chant cries of her name as you try to ride her hand.

your head falls to the side, into the pillows. a necessary but pointless try to stifle your moans.

“jackie please”

you can hear her mumbling words of “that’s it” and “take it” against your temple but it’s white noise to what you feel when her thumb finds your clit, rubbing in fast circles that match the brutal pace she’s set. even jackie is panting now. her wrists must be aching, at this rate, but she’s not stopping. you wonder if she’s as wet for you as you are for her. you know how easy it is to get her wet. so she must be, it wouldn’t surprise you if she’s stained your bed.

in the end, these aren’t the thoughts that push you over the edge. it’s jackie’s voice urging you to “cum” to “please cum for me”.

the rest of the world blurs in and out of focus and, for as long as your orgasm lasts, there’s nothing but the pleasure that explodes in your abdomen and leaves you shaking on the mattress.

you choke out a moan as it washes over you. jackie is watching you, her mouth hanging open like it only dawns upon her now that she's got this kind of effect on you.

even as the pleasure starts to fade, your thighs are still shaking. jackie is almost hesitant about lifting her hand from between your legs, though she makes a point of not looking down at your arousal on her before she wipes it off on the mattress.

“holy shit” you mutter, staring at the ceiling above and dropping the weight of your head back onto the pillows. your whole body feels ten times lighter than it did mere minutes ago.

reality sinks in soon enough though.

after another deep breath, you turn to jackie. she's still sitting on your mattress, but her bare back is turned to you. stupidly enough, you try to reach out. she senses the movement and shoots you a sharp glance, so your hand freezes mid-air, never reaching her.

“don't” the sharpness in her voice has no right to sting the way it does. you pull your hand back, uselessly dropping it onto the mattress.

“jackie...”

“i said don't" she snaps all over again. "it's better this way”

better for who? you wonder. the question burns but you force yourself to bite it back. there's no point in trying to push her further. you watch jackie reach for her discarded clothes on the floor. her movements are hurried as she pulls her shirt back over her head. like if she's frantic enough about it, it'll all go away.

“was it something i-” “no,” she immediately interrupts. with her shirt back on, she stands. “don’t make this into something it’s not”

“jackie you don’t have to-“

“this didn’t mean anything” she interjects all over again. “we shouldn’t have…it was a mistake, okay? it won’t happen again”

“a mistake?”

it’s not the first time jackie calls it that. for a ‘mistake’ she’s been coming back a surprising amount of times. yet it always comes down to this.

“i don’t want to talk about it,” she snaps, her arms cross defensively over her chest as she turns toward her bed. “we have nationals tomorrow. we need to focus”

“are you serious right now?” your voice rises slightly. “jackie, you can’t just-“

“i can,” she says firmly. “and i am”

you sit there, half naked and stunned into silence as jackie climbs into her own bed and pulls the covers up to her chin, facing the wall so you can’t see her expression. her breathing is shaky, though, and you can tell she’s trying hard to steady it.

“fine,” you say stubbornly when you realize she’s actually serious. “pretend it didn’t happen. pretend it didn’t mean anything to you”

jackie doesn’t respond.

you sit in the stillness for what feels like an eternity. as you finally settle under the covers, your back turned to her, you hear jackie’s voice:

“stay away from me. for the rest of this trip”

you swallow hard, blinking back the sting in your eyes. “got it,” you whisper.

then, you just lay there, staring at the ceiling and listening to the sound of her breathing. jackie doesn’t move, and neither do you. whatever you’d hoped might come from tonight has slipped right through your fingers.

eventually, jackie’s breathing evens out, and you wonder if she’s actually asleep or just pretending. either way, you close your eyes, trying to make the hurt fade.

[thenightshadowqueen]

Top ten SFTH character couples

(in my biased opinion)

Okay, first of all I’m so sorry to anyone who followed me for anything other than Shoot from the Hip content; I swear I’ll put in more variety. Someday. (Also go check out Shoot from the Hip.) Second of all, I did not join Tumblr with the intention of making a bunch of lists, but they’re fun to write and people seem to enjoy them, so here goes.

10. Justin x the Beetroots MC (headcanon)

Listen, I do NOT condone the whole “if they’re bullying you, that means they like you” bullshit. That being said, years and years later, after both of them have grown as people, I think they could have a really sweet relationship, at least after they work through everything.

9. André Beetroot x Xavier (canon, somehow)

I kind of ship this in a joking way, but also kind of not? They make sense together in a really weird, fucked-up way, and I’m so here for it. (I cannot believe that they’ve canonically hooked up. Multiple times. I love AJ so much for giving us this.)

8. Andrew x Nigel (headcanon)

It’s so toxic. It’s so toxic, and I know that, and it would never be okay in real life, but some dark part of me is really fascinated by the possibilities. (I cannot emphasise enough how much I am intrigued by this in FICTION ONLY.)

7. Jack and Jackie (canon)

Complete turnaround from the last two, but these two are genuinely so sweet. I honestly don’t even have much to say about them, but I love them. So much.

6. François x Mimi (canon)

They are so toxic. They’re horrible people, and they only make each other worse. And I love it. (You know, making this list did make me worry about my mental health slightly. Just slightly.)

5. Toby x the meth wife (canon)

First of all, this is the gayest straight-presenting relationship I’ve ever seen, and I love it. (I totally headcanon them both as bi/pan/queer/etc., but that’s not the point of this post.) And honestly, they’re so supportive of each other. They’re, like, genuinely a healthy couple (in a SFTH play? Can you imagine?). They have so much love for each other, and I could talk about them all day, but I’m fairly sure no one needs that, so I’ll stop.

4. Andrews x Betruva (headcanon)

Listen, I might be a little biased because they’re new, but they kind of have everything I look for in a ship. They have millennia of history, which is always a good start. They’re ancient nemeses. They founded a church named after them both???? Honestly how much more gay can you get?

3. Esmerelda x the vampire slayer (canon)

I like to imagine that Esmeralda survived, and they fall in love, and they have to work through the trauma of the slayer (I think I saw the fanon name Samantha? But I’m not sure) trying to kill Esmeralda. There’s just so much angst potential, and oh, now I want to write a fanfic.

2. Bubba x Jeramiah (canon)

They’re a fucking classic, okay, and they’re a classic for a reason. They are the best gay cowboys, and I love them so much. I know I should have more to say, but I feel like it would just be incoherent screaming.

1. Derek x Titch (canon)

Listen, who else could it be? They are so fundamentally amazing. It’s a classic case of “he fell first, he fell harder” (even if we don’t get to see a lot of the “he fell harder” part, I believe it with all my heart). I love Titch working though his issues and learning to open up, and I love Derek being so helplessly in love with him. I love them so much, and they deserve the top spot.

[thefallennightmare]

One Night-Valentine's Day special

*gif created by me. feel free to use, simply give credit*

Pairings: Noah Sebastian x Reader

Warnings: lots of smut(mask play, spit play, bondage, anal, fingering, oral(m/f receiving), choking, unprotected sex), swearing, angst, fluff.

Summary: Nothing like a little Valentines Day smut for these two love birds!

Authors Note: Since this takes place during this universe, every thing that happened between Noah and Reader is still the same! Just a little pop in to see how they've been doing! Happy Valentines Day my lovelies! I hope you enjoy this little blurb!

Tags: @thescarlettvvitch @sammyjoeee @shilohrosechicken @malice-ov-mercy @thebadchic @niicoleleigh @lma1986 @dsireland86 @bellaboo967 @cookiesupplier @whenthesummerdies @bngurngheart @laurpartyprogram @thisbicc @lyinginbetween @princessmarshmallowx @loeytuan98 @cncohshit @lacktoesandtoddlerants @notingridslurkaccount @calleyx13 @jessiskyee @mrscevans @spicywhenspeaking @myownthoughts12 @br0kenangel23 @flowery-mess @lizzieseveride @illmakeyousaywow @burning-outx @xhedonistolisx @sinnamongirl @jilliemiw86 @shayzillaaaa @dream-machine-love

“Hi, who can I make this out to?” I smiled up at the person in front of me. 

The young blonde smiled wide. “Uh, Jennifer.” 

I picked up on her nerves but decided not to dwell on it like I’d done with the other 50 people before her. I opened the book Jennifer lay in front of me and wrote the same message I’d been writing all day.

Jennifer, 

Thank you so much for the support. 

XO

Y/N. 

“Thank you so much for coming out”, I said while sliding the book back to Jennifer. 

Jennifer shook her head while clutching the book close to her chest. “No, thank you, Y/N! I absolutely loved One Night. So when you were promoting Always Pretending, I knew I would have another book to add to my TBR list. Needless to say, it’s my favorite book ever.” 

My cheeks flushed. “Oh wow. Thank you so much for that, Jennifer. Truly, your praise means a lot.” 

With a wave, I continued the same thing for the next long while, signing book after book for my fans. This was the last day in a two-week-long book tour across the United States and to say I was exhausted was an understatement. Not to mention, I had a four-hour flight back home to Los Angeles as soon as I left this bookshop. Jackie, my assistant, knew how badly I wanted to get back home so she booked the earliest flight she could. 

It has been like this for the last year ever since I published One Night and now Always Pretending; both books on the bestseller list. While I was thankful for that, I wasn’t thankful for being away from home for so long. 

Away from Noah.

Our schedules didn’t seem to match up as of late. While I was away on my book signing tour, he was home resting because a week after I got back home, Bad Omens would be leaving for a round of festivals overseas. Noah wanted me to join him since I hadn’t been in a long time. We’d been dating for almost two years now and I had to miss out on the last two tours because of my own career. 

I had every intention of joining Noah now but needed to talk to Jackie about it first. She worked tirelessly to keep my schedule busy and jam-packed to promote my books but in my eyes, they didn't need any more promotion. I’d been working almost nonstop with these book tours, interviews, and not to mention trying to work on my third book. 

I needed a fucking break. 

I didn’t want it to seem to people that I was complaining because I was thankful for where I ended up. If you had told the girl two years ago who sat on that tour bus wondering if her first book would be good enough to become a best-selling author, she’d laugh in your face. 

Noticing that we were dwindling to the last few people, I powered through with a plastered smile even though my eyes were drowning in exhaustion. My phone lay on the table next to me, screen down but kept buzzing against the wood. Jackie went to reach for it but I shot her a look in between signing books. 

“I thought you’d want me to respond for you,” she tried to smile. 

I bit my tongue, not wanting to snap at the older woman because she was simply doing her job but I knew who was texting me and didn’t want her to see those messages. 

“It’s fine, thank you,” I muttered. 

Finally, after a two-hour signing, I was finished and shook out the cramps in my right hand while letting out a deep breath. It was almost 2 in the afternoon and my flight left in 3 hours which meant I had to rush across town to make it in time. 

“So, I was thinking,” Jackie started as I began to gather my things. “The local news channel would love to have you on their morning report tomorrow. I think it would be great publicity.” 

I raised a brow. “You seemed to forget that I have a flight in three hours, Jackie.” 

“I know,” she nodded. “But we can move some things around and-.” 

For the first time since she took over as my assistant, I said the word that I never wanted to because I knew how important the publicity side of my career was. 

“No.” 

Jackie blinked. “What?” 

I sighed while running a hand through my hair. “Look Jackie, while I appreciate everything you’ve done for me these past few months, I need a break. I’ve been going nonstop since One Night was published. I miss my life back in Los Angeles. I miss my quiet little apartment. I miss my boyfriend.” 

Noah’s smile flashed in my mind and my heart yearned to be back with him. About three months ago, he moved in with me but with how busy both of us had been it felt as if we didn’t have time to actually revel in living together. 

Not to mention, being away from him for two weeks made me horny as hell. Facetime sex paled in comparison to seeing and feeling the real thing. 

“But-.” 

I held up my hand to silence Jackie. “You deserve a break as well, Jackie. Take some time off, do things you love. When I’m ready to talk about book three, I’ll give you a call, alright?” 

Reluctantly, she nodded while tucking a piece of graying hair behind her ear. 

Bidding her goodbye, I threw my bag over my shoulder and then dragged my suitcase behind me to exit the bookstore only to immediately sit in the backseat of the black town car that had been waiting to take me to the airport. Once we were gliding along the road, I finally peered at my phone for the first time in a few hours. 

Noah: Angel, I’m so proud of everything you’ve done. Seeing how successful your book tour has been makes me smile. I can’t wait till you’re back home and we can celebrate. I love you so much. 

Noah: So, are you going to sign a copy of Always Pretending for me? Since you know, I was your muse for it. 

I rolled my eyes with a giggle before replying to Noah. 

Me: Oh please, you know I’d sign a book for my biggest fan. Also, I love you too. 

As I browsed through my phone, checking my social media and responding to emails, Noah texted back. 

Noah: So, we have a problem. I can’t pick you up from the airport because I forgot I had my therapy appointment at six.

My heart sunk to the depths of my stomach. All day I’d been looking forward to seeing Noah’s face as I stepped through the doors of the airport. But I knew that he couldn’t miss therapy. It was more important than picking me up. 

Me: It’s okay, love. I can order an uber. I should be back home by 8. Maybe we can have a late dinner together? 

Noah: Already taken care of, angel. 

With a yawn, I adjusted my glasses as I stepped through the gate doors of the airport, dragging my bags behind me. There was a delay in taking off at the last airport which meant I was now arriving in Los Angeles at 9 p.m rather than 7 p.m. I had to buy wifi on the plane so I could message Noah to let him know about the delay. 

Thank the gods I changed out of my professional attire at the last airport and opted to wear my Bad Omens joggers and Noah’s yellow hoodie; his smell still lingering. With my phone in one hand, I was about to order an Uber when my feet skidded to a halt at the sight in front of me. 

What a cheeky little…

Noah smirked as he held a bouquet of black daisies. 

“Hi, angel,” he mused. 

I reached for the flowers and brought them to my nose, inhaling their scent, and then peered up at Noah. 

“I thought you couldn’t pick me up.” 

Noah brushed away a loose strand of hair from my face. “I sort of lied. I had plans to pick you up then take you out to dinner for Valentine's day but when your flight got delayed, I had to switch things up.” 

“So you’ve been waiting here for two hours?” I asked. 

“Worth it.” 

He shrugged before wrapping his fingers behind my neck to bring our lips together in a long overdue kiss. His tongue immediately molded against mine and I moaned into it, my hand sprawling over his chest. The material of his Hereditary sweater felt warm underneath my palm and I let myself fall into him when his hands grasped my hips. 

“I missed you, Y/N,” Noah’s teeth grazed over my bottom lip. 

“I missed you too, love.” 

With his arm wrapped around my shoulder and other hand holding my bags, Noah led me out of the airport and towards his car parked in the parking lot. Once we were settled, he began the drive back home. I nestled into the passenger seat and let out a content sigh. 

“Tired?” Noah questioned with one hand on the wheel and the other resting on my thigh. 

“No, surprisingly. I thought I would be but I’m just happy to be back home.” 

He brought my hand to his lips to kiss along my knuckles. “I’m glad you’re back too, angel.” 

For the rest of the drive home, I told him how the book tour went while he told me what he did the last few weeks. Since it was down time for Bad Omens, Noah spent it either in the gym with Ash or in the studio with the guys. 

As we walked down the long hallway to our apartment, another yawn slipped through my lips and I nearly stumbled. Noah chuckled as he wrapped an arm around me to pull me into his chest. 

“You should get some sleep, angel.” 

I frowned while burying myself into his sweater. "I'm not tired."

His lips brushed along my forehead as we stopped in front of our door and he unlocked it. The darkness of our home escaped into the hallway as I stepped through the threshold and when I clicked on the lights, a gasp fell from my lips. 

Matching the daisies bouquet I had clutched in my arms, our entire apartment was littered. Music played softly as I noticed the steaming dinner plated on our kitchen island, candles lit and spread throughout. 

Turning on my heels, I gaped at Noah who leaned against the door with a smug smile. 

“What is this?” I asked, doing my best not to cry. 

“Happy Valentine's Day, angel. I had Jolly set this up for me while we were on our way home. He had to warm up the dinner I cooked earlier but I promise it’s still good,” he said. 

My eyes widened. “Oh, I forgot it’s Valentine's day! I was so busy with everything I didn’t get you anything.” 

Noah pushed himself off the door and immediately cupped my face so I could look up at him. The hood of his sweater was still pulled over his eyes, chocolate tendrils falling into his face. 

“You know I don’t need anything. Just you, angel. But I wanted to do something special for you because you deserve it.” 

I left a firm but quick kiss on his lips, muttering against them. “Thank you, Noah.” 

He smiled while motioning behind me. “Come on, let's eat.” 

“Fuck, Noah,” I moaned when his tongue licked up the patch of skin his teeth grazed. 

My nails dragged down his bare chest, leaving red marks along his tattoos, as he continued to slam his cock into me, the couch beneath us scraping along the wood floors. 

“So tight. I missed you,” he groaned into the crook of my neck as his hips stilled. 

I knew he was close but also knew that he didn’t want it to end yet. What started as a nice romantic dinner turned into a heavy make out session on the couch. Neither of us could wait any longer and needed to be connected once again. 

His fingers brushed along the folds of my pussy and I shook with the feeling as he slowly dragged his cock all the way out, only leaving the tip inside. 

“Noah,” I whined while raising my hips. “Please.” 

His teeth dragged along my nipples. “Please what?” 

I raked my nails through his hair and yanked back causing Noah to let out a loud hiss. “Fuck, angel.” 

“Stop teasing me and fuck me, Noah. Please.” 

My screams echoed throughout the apartment when he buried his cock deep witin me again, his pace becoming ruthless. But our position on the couch wasn’t the greatest, I needed to be able to feel him even deeper. We couldn’t make it to the bedroom when we first started and there was no way I was going to stop this now. 

Noah could tell I needed something different because with one strong arm, he lifted me from the couch to carry me over to the kitchen table. I squealed in delight as I writhed in his embrace. 

“What are you doing?” I asked as he made me lean back. 

He brushed back the sweat slicked hair from his forehead and licked his lips. “I need a taste of you.” 

With a tight grip on my thighs, he spread my legs wide apart before he knelt between them. The warmth of his tongue sent shockwaves to my entire system as he lapped up the remnants of my previous orgasm he gave me on the couch and I arched off the table when he began sucking on my clit. 

“Shit, Noah. I’m going to-.” 

With two fingers spearing me wide open before pumping in fast succession and his mouth sucking on my sensitive nub, I let the shock of my orgasm tear through me with such a force that it nearly took my breath away. 

“Such a good girl,” Noah mused while laying a kiss on the inside of my thigh. “I missed the way you taste.” 

I only had a few minutes to breath before he was yanking me off the table to now stand on my feet. He patted my ass. 

“Lean your hands against the window,” he nodded towards the patio door. 

“What-?” I shuffled on my feet. 

Noah’s lips attacked mine in a ravenous kiss and when he pulled away, he brushed my arousal off of his lips with his thumb. His bracelet and necklace glinted in the light from the lamppost outside. 

“Be a good girl, Y/N, and do what I say,” his voice was as dark as his eyes. 

Not wanting to disappoint, I quickly made my way over to the patio door that led out to our balcony and rested my psalm against the glass.Thankfully we shut off all but one of the lights so no one would be able to peer up into our apartment and see what we were doing.

"Keep your hands on the window," he demanded and then yanked my hips back to him so I was bent over. 

Nodding furiously, I spread my hands against the window of the patio door when his cocked slipped inside of me again, his name falling off my lips in a prayer. 

“That’s right, pray to your king,” Noah rasped as he bit down on my shoulder. 

One tattooed arm wrapped around my stomach while the other tightened around my throat to bring my chest against his back, this new angle making my vision blurry. It felt so good, the burn, and Noah knew how bad I needed it to hurt. 

 He squeezed until I felt the air being ripped away from me, his cock slamming into me with no sign of stopping. He never held back and I never wanted him too.  I needed it to hurt, needed it to burn, that I wouldn't be able to walk tomorrow.

When I felt the darkness creeping to the corners of my eyelids due to how tight he was gripping my throat, I let out a choked moan. 

“Safe word?” he muttered into my ear before kissing the skin behind there. 

Although his voice was soft and concerning, the way he fucked me was completley different. 

I did my best to shake my head with his tight grip around my throat. “Keep. Going. So. Close.” 

Noah eased his grip a bit so I could take a deep breath before he tightened it again. My orgasm was so close, I just needed a little something to have it wash over me. As my hand moved to my clit, Noah smacked my ass, the sound echoing through our apartment. Instead, his thumb pressed circles against my clit and that was exactly what I needed to let my orgasm finally release from the tightness of my body. I came with such vigor on Noah’s cock he groaned into my hairline. 

“Such a good girl,” he praised while letting go of the vice grip around my throat. 

Gulping for hair, I nodded. “Yes.” 

Nails dug into the skin of my hips as Noah’s pace became even more frantic, him chasing his own release, and I was so far gone in my post orgasmic haze that I nearly didn’t hear the two words he said. 

“Wh-what?” I stuttered. 

Noah’s hips stilled for a beat before he let out a deep, guttural groan when he spilled his warm release into me. 

“Marry me.” 

Before my body could fall into a heap to the ground, Noah lifted me to sit me on the edge of our kitchen island. His large hand cupped my cheek so I had no choice but to gaze upon him. His pupils were blown wide due to our actions and his chest rose and fell as he did his best to catch his breath. His warm cum dripped down my legs onto the cold marble beneath me but I didn’t dare think about the mess. I only thought about those two words. 

“What did you say?” I asked, still breathless. 

“Marry me,” Noah said again without an ounce of hesitation. 

Everything around us seemed to fall away, the eerie quiet of the apartment now ringing loudly in my ears. My heart beat loudly in my chest that I could feel it in my throat when I realized how sincere Noah was. This wasn’t a joke, he meant those words. 

As if he thought I was doubting him, he ripped open our junk drawer in the kitchen to pull out a small velvet box and my breath caught in my throat. 

“Fuck, you’re serious?” I choked out. 

Noah smiled wickedly as he opened the box, the light above the kitchen sink catching the diamond almost instantly. The gold band was thin but the oval shape of the diamond almost sat perfectly against it. 

“With you, Y/N. I’ve never been more serious about anything,” he said. 

My throat burned in the best way. Never in this lifetime did I ever expect to have such a romantic Valentine's Day. Guys in my past never gave a shit, especially Jacob, so to have Noah go all out was something I wasn't used too but knowing he loved me so much made my heart swell. 

I began to nod wildly. “Fuck yes!” 

With a laugh, Noah collided our lips together in a fever kiss before reluctantly pulling away to slide the ring onto my finger. 

“I didn’t mean to have a cliche proposal on Valentine's day. I planned on asking you if you came overseas but I couldn’t risk not asking you before,” Noah explained. 

I wrapped my legs around his naked form to bring him closer to me and I hung my arms around his neck. We were still naked and the cool air from the open window brushed along our heated skin. 

“I’m coming with you.” 

Noah’s eyes lit up. “You are?” 

“Yeah, I need a break and now that we’re engaged, I think we need to celebrate,” I waved the hand with the ring in front of his face playfully. 

He grasped it to leave a kiss upon the ring. “Say no more, angel.” 

My squeals bounced off the walls of our home as Noah carried me into our bedroom to start our engagement celebrations.

[lovecla]

TAKE YOUR PAIN AWAY | quinn hughes.

chapter nine:

<last chapter> <next chapter>

➴ chapter warnings: mentions of toxic family, angst.

➴ word count: 3.8k

💌 from me to you: took my sweet time before publishing this because now my non hockey best friend follows me (i love u lily) here and i feel ashamed lmfao also ive been deep into ballroom hair tutorial videos on tiktok so im sorry for the delay. love u all though! (p.s. be patient with maddie yall)

౨ৎ

2024, MAY.

YOU STARED at the two piece set you chose for Jack’s birthday dinner and sighed, wondering if it was a good option or not.

After that wonderful weekend with Quinn at the cabin he had rented for you both, you decided to give it a shot and call Luke and Jack once, to know how they were doing; turns out Quinn was right, and they missed you just as much— or at least that's what they said when you explained that you were calling because you wanted to know how they were doing and that you missed them.

Luke talked with you for a good thirty minutes, while Jack exceeded himself and made it to the one hour mark. Even with the time difference, he managed to speak with you for a long time, and didn’t end the call until he was absolutely sure that you would come to his birthday dinner in Newark.

“You can come with Quinn, if you want. He’s coming too,” he said, and you wondered if you should tell him that you and Quinn now were some sort of friends with benefits.

Not that you didn’t want people to know. In fact, people probably already knew— or at least they suspected. It wasn’t like you and Quinn had been trying to be subtle, and your Instagram posts didn’t leave room for imagination. It was clear that you were with someone, and the chances of that someone being Quinn Hughes were very high.

All your life you tried to distance yourself from the Hughes brothers as much as you could. When you were younger, people asked if you knew them, and even though you didn’t understand why, you always told them no. After you grew up and made your own name, not mentioning Quinn, Luke or Jack felt like the right choice, so you just kept it that way.

And now, it was May 14th, and you were on your way to Jack’s house, with Quinn by your side. You had rented a hotel room for the weekend, even after Jack (and Luke) complained about how there was no need for that and how you could stay with them, you thought it was better this way. You didn’t want to intrude in their lives and sharing a hotel bedroom with Quinn wasn’t exactly the worst thing that could happen to you. And thankfully, Quinn didn’t complain about it either.

“Are you ready, baby?” Quinn stood by the bathroom door, looking at you through the mirror.

You picked your red lipstick up, opening it. “Just the last thing and then yeah.” You say before applying it, smearing the lipstick on your lips. “What do you think?” You ask, giving him a twirl.

“You’re unreal, Madison,” he eyes your body, up and down, before getting closer and kissing your forehead. “We might not leave this room tonight.”

You roll your eyes playfully.

“Come on, let’s go,” you say, taping him on his shoulder. “Did you grab Jacky’s gift? It was in my bag.”

“I did, yeah,” he says, leaving the bathroom after you. “Wanna tell me why you bought him a pop music album called ‘Make Me Yours’? A bit suggestive, don’t you think?”

You laugh, throwing your head back at Quinn’s furrowed brows.

“I was just listening to this album the other day and I don’t know why, but I thought he might like it.”

“Alright. I thought you wanted to be his.” He smirks, grabbing your purse for you and opening the bedroom door.

“Meh. He’s not the Hughes I’m interested in.” Quinn laughs, nodding with his head.

The drive to Jack’s place wasn’t long, fifteen minutes inside the car Quinn rented was all you needed to get to Jack’s house. You took advantage of the time inside the car to check on the photos the hotel Bella was staying in had sent you during your flight, smiling when you remembered how Quinn also got worried about her well being.

You were looking at Bella, trying your hardest not to let your eyes fill up with tears as she distanced herself from you to play with the other dogs there.

“Are you sure she’ll be okay?” You ask Ryan, the owner of the five star dog hotel you reserved for Bella so you and Quinn could travel together.

“Yes, Mrs. Carter, I can assure you that.” He smiles politely, holding his hands together.

“I need you to send me pictures of her hourly so I can see if she’s fine,” you demand, shaking your head. “If there’s anything wrong, call me. No matter what time it is, you will call me, do you understand?” You squinted, trying to look scary.

It probably worked, because soon you felt Quinn’s hand circling your waist, pulling you closer. You stared at him as he smiled at you. “I think Ryan understood everything perfectly, baby. Bella will be fine.”

“Yes, Mr. Hughes, Bella will be well taken care of.”

“Of course she is. Otherwise we’ll make sure this place is shut down.” Quinn says with the friendliest tone you ever heard coming out of his mouth, making you smile at him.

Ryan’s eyes twitched for a second before he managed to let out a scared laugh, excusing himself and leaving the two of you alone.

“Do you think we scared him enough?” Quinn asks as you both leave the fancy room.

You smirk. “I hope so. Otherwise this will be the only time I use my name for something.”

You and Quinn parked the car after a few minutes looking for a spot— the street was packed with cars, so you could only imagine what Jack’s house was going to look like— and you grabbed his gift before moving back to Quinn’s side and walking to Jack’s door.

Quinn rang the doorbell and a few minutes later, a very excited and happy Jack opened the door, holding a can of beer in his left hand.

“Huggy bear!” He hugged Quinn and pulled him inside the place. “Guys, Huggy Bear is here!”

You could hear the shouts coming from the living room and you smiled, watching as Quinn’s face turned into a cute shade of red and he looked at his brother like he wanted to murder him.

“Hey, Jacky, happy birthday. I love you,” Quinn mumbles, embarrassment coming out of his pores.

“Thank you,” he kisses Quinn on the cheek, clearly a bit tipsy and moves on to you. “You’re actually here.”

You smile. “I am. Happy birthday, Rowdy.”

He hugs you tight, holding your waist with both of his arms, his left hand feeling colder because of his beer. You kiss him on the cheek, making sure there were no lipstick marks left, and hand him his gift.

“This is for you.”

“Can we talk about how the actual gift here is you being here? With Quinn?” He smiles, closing the door behind you and Quinn. Your smile grows, feeling happy to see him this happy. “Thank you.”

“How many people did you invite?” Quinn asks beside you, sounding surprised.

“Just the fellas,” Jack shrugs. “And maybe some girls too.”

“There’s like thirty cars parked outside.” Quinn complains, and you squeeze his shoulder, involuntarily. Jack eyes your hand there for a second before rolling his eyes at Quinn.

“Stop being boring. Come on.”

Jack probably didn’t understand the concept of a small birthday dinner, which was what he said when he invited you to his birthday. You imagined that there would be ten people tops, but the twenty-three NJ Devils players were there, and their respective significant others as well. Not to mention the at least ten women and men who weren’t players nor girlfriends but were there as well.

While Quinn greeted some of the people he knew, you found Luke sitting on the couch, talking to a random girl.

“Mads? Jesus, you actually came.” he sounded as surprised as Jack did, and you raised your eyebrow, giving him a forehead kiss.

“Why are you so surprised? You know I wouldn’t miss the chance of taking pictures of Jack’s drunk face,” you joke, sitting on the couch beside him and smiling at the girl who was talking to Luke before. “Hi, I’m Madison.”

“I’m Jessica, nice to meet you,” she smiles, and you can tell she’s timid.

“Been a while since the last time I saw you. How’s life in Vancouver, M?” Luke asks, sipping on a beer he should not be drinking. You squint your eyes at him. “Don’t even start.”

You lift your hands in surrender. “I like living there.”

“I heard they have amazing lakes there,” the girl from before, Jessica, says, smiling and crossing her legs.

“Oh, yeah, they do.” you agree, smiling.

“You and Quinn visited one last week, didn’t you?” Luke asks, staring at you weirdly. You could tell he wanted to ask you something else, blue eyes full of questions, but he was content with the simple nod you gave him.

“I’m actually in the mood for a drink. Sorry for interrupting you both,” you say before getting up, watching as Luke smirked at you, probably happy because you didn’t cut his chances of getting laid that night, while Jessica shyly smiled at you, waving with her hand.

Finding Jack’s kitchen wasn’t hard, since the majority of the people were staked in the living room. You took the liberty of opening his fridge, smiling when you found your favorite beer brand inside it.

You grabbed a can, closing the door right after it. You opened it, taking a sip after.

“Oh, wow,” you hear a voice behind you, loud enough to be heard over the music playing in the background, making you turn, still with the can around your lips. A blond man stood by the kitchen door with his hands inside his pockets. “It’s not every day we see a lady like you drinking directly from the source.”

You chuckle, putting the can down. “That was the dumbest thing I’ve ever heard.”

The man smiles and shrugs.

“I probably have to work on my pick up lines a little bit more.”

“That was a pick up line?” you scoff. “I’m scared.”

“I’m Jesper Bratt,” he laughs, extending his hand, which you promptly grab. “Never seen you around Jack’s parties before.”

“Madison Carter,” you introduce yourself, letting go of his hand. “I’m an old friend of Jack’s. And I live in Vancouver, I’m just here to celebrate Jacky’s birthday.”

Bratt whistles. “Damn. And I thought that the twenty minute drive here was long. You flew a whole country for him.”

You smile and lift your shoulders, feeling shy suddenly.

“It’s no big deal, I’ve known him for years. Are you one of his teammates?”

“Yes, actually,” he rests his elbow on one of the counters, staring at you with fierce eyes. “So, Madison Carter. Tell me about yourself.”

“Is this a job interview?” you laugh, finishing the rest of your beer in one go.

“It might as well be,” he smirks, moving until he was in front of the fridge, opening so he could get another beer for you. You thanked him, before speaking again.

“And for what position am I applying for?” you ask, only realizing what your sentence implied after Bratt’s laugh.

“I hope it’s for missionary.” he cocks his head to the side, a flirty smile decorating his lips.

You rolled your eyes, sipping on your beer again.

Jesper wasn’t a bad looking man. And usually, you’d feel flattered that a man as handsome as he would be interested in you, but this was when you realized that you were fucked.

Because no matter how much Bratt flirted with you, or how seductive he sounded, it didn’t matter— he isn’t him.

You were sixteen years old when you realized that that infatuation you felt for Quinn in reality meant that you were in love with him. Maybe if you were anyone else, you would’ve realized sooner, since the signs were as clear as Algarve’s beach sea, but coming from someone who knew little to nothing about love, it took you way longer.

You came to the conclusion that it wasn’t normal for you to compare all of the boys your age to Quinn. It wasn’t normal for you to cry after your first kiss because you wanted Quinn to be the one who kissed you first. Same thing with your first time having sex or giving a guy a blowjob.

You were in love with Quinn Hughes, and probably had always been.

But then you grew up, moved to Los Angeles and tried your hardest to be normal and not feed your teenage delusions about marrying Quinn and carrying his children. You forced yourself to believe that what you felt for him wasn’t anything more than a crush. A teenage crush.

And it was easy to believe that, since you hadn’t seen him for years. It was easy to pretend you were happy with Richard, or with any of the guys who flirted with you.

But when you saw Quinn for the first time after all those years, looking as handsome as you knew him to be, you realized that your silly infatuation for him wasn’t just that. No. Twenty-two year old Madison Carter felt the same things sixteen year old Madison did.

And now, standing in the middle of Jack’s kitchen, you realized something worse: it wasn’t just a crush. It was a wardrobe full of feelings, it was a gray sky packed with heavy clouds. You were in love with him.

And people are right when they say that owning something is probably the most hurtful way of loving. Because you loved Quinn, you owned him right now— you know he isn’t seeing anyone else— and yet, he wasn’t yours to keep.

The months were passing by, and soon it’d be September again and you’d have to move back to Los Angeles, and leave him and what you wanted so bad to call yours behind.

“Earth to Madison.”

You smiled at Jesper, feeling bad for zoning out on him like this.

“Sorry, I’m still a little bit jet lagged,” you explain, leaving your still full can on top of the counter and excusing yourself. “I think I need to use the bathroom, sorry.”

“No worries. The night’s still young.” He smiles at you one last time before you leave the kitchen, looking for Jack’s back door, and leaving the house.

Thankfully, no one had had the same idea as you, so Jack’s backyard was empty and with no one around to watch you freak out over your realization.

Or at least that’s what you thought.

“I knew something was up with you, but now I need to know what.” Luke’s voice reached your ears, making you smile and turn your head around, looking at the man who was sitting on one of Jack’s couches,

You walked in his direction, sitting beside him, resting your chin on your knees. “Just tired.” You mumble, closing your eyes.

“Maybe Jack would fall for that but me?” He scoffs. “Hell no. Spill it.”

“Why are you talking like a seventeen year old girl?”

“Don’t try to change the subject, little lady. I’m waiting.”

“I’m still older than you, y’know.”

“And I’m taller, so I don’t care,” he coughs, poking your cheek with his freezing cold finger. “Come on, M. Is it Quinn?”

You lift your head fast, frowning “Why are you talking about him?”

“It’s obvious that something’s going on between the two of you and you just confirmed it,” he chuckles. “What happened?”

“I don’t even know where to start,” you sigh, putting your head against your knees again.

“I think that starting from the beginning is a great choice.”

“You think you’re so funny,” you roll your eyes, playful. “You’re not. And I don’t know if I want to talk about my relationship with your brother with you.”

“Look, it already feels weird because you’re literally a sister to me, so it feels like I’m watching something very unholy and sinful happening but I want to help you, so just get it out of the way.”

You stay quiet for a while, debating with yourself if you should talk with him or not.

“I’m in love with your brother,” you whisper, saying the truth out loud for the first time ever. “And I’ve been in love with him for a long time now.”

Luke doesn’t say anything, so you keep going.

“We’ve recently started to… well, explore each other in other ways.”

“Oh, Jesus Christ, I knew it’d be bad but fuck me sideways this is disgusting,” he groans, making you laugh.

“You were the one who asked me to talk to you!” you laugh at his disgusted face.

“Yeah, but I regret it now. Leave all of the romantic parts aside, please.”

You roll your eyes, but do as he says. “And the truth is I don’t know what to do. I’m only staying in Vancouver for four more months and I don’t want to start something with him knowing that I won’t be able to keep it.”

Not to mention that once Quinn got to see you for what you truly are, he’d want to run away from you as soon as possible, just like your family did, making you leave your house as soon as you turned eighteen.

“Why can’t you just tell him this?” Luke stares at you, licking his lips.

“Why are you even asking me this?” You raise your eyebrow. “Why would I tell him about loving him but not being able to be with him?”

Luke stays silent for a while, making you stop staring at him and stare at the sky above you— the moon shining bright and the stars decorating the space around her.

“D’you know what I think?” he finally says, and you hum, waiting for his answer. “I think that you’re scared.”

You frown. “Scared? Why would I be scared?”

“Because you know Quinn, and you know he would do absolutely everything to be with you. He would fly to Vancouver every week if he had to, just to stay in LA with you.”

“I can’t let him do that,” you whisper, feeling terrible just by the thought of it. “I would never ask him to do something like that.”

“I’m not saying you would, I’m just saying that he’s willing to do something like that for you, and it scares you. It scares you to think that he probably loves you enough to do something like that.”

“We don’t know if he actually l–loves me.” You stutter, the word making your mouth feel bitter.

Luke sighs, moving his body around until he is facing you.

“Maddie, look,” he starts, his tone barely recognizable with how serious he sounded. “We’ve never said anything because it wasn’t our place, and maybe it still isn’t, but—” he breathes deep, his eyes never leaving yours. “The way your family treats you isn’t normal.”

“Luke—”

“I know, hell, we know that love isn’t exactly something you have experience with in your life and it’s fine. But you need to learn to accept the love people are willing to give you.”

“I do accept it,” you bite back, defensive.

“When was the last time you said ‘I love you’ to anyone?” Luke asks, and you can feel all of the walls you worked so hard to build starting to crack. And it scared you to death.

You got up fast, startling Luke. “Don’t talk about shit you don’t know.”

He also gets up, reaching out for you, making you step back immediately. He pulls his hands back, frowning. “Madison.”

“No, you— you can’t just say shit like that, Luke.” You could feel your heart racing inside your chest, your head pounding with unwelcome thoughts, but now you’d already started and— “I know what love is.”

“I’m not saying you don’t, M, I’m just saying you don’t know how to accept it!” He yells and raises his arms, pretty face portraying a deep shade of red underneath the moonlight. “Jack, Mom, Dad, me and Quinn have loved you for years and you can’t even acknowledge it!”

You both turn your head around as you hear the back door opening, and Quinn’s worried voice reaching your ears. “Luke, Maddie. Is everything okay here?”

“Madison’s—” Luke starts talking, and you angrily press your index finger against his muscled chest.

“Don’t you fucking dare, Luke,” you whisper, watching as he looks down at you, his sad, blue eyes grabbing a piece of your heart and keeping it.

You knew you were all over the place and you knew Luke had the greatest of all intentions, but he was right. You were scared. You had never been so scared before, not even when you moved to a whole other country by yourself, with no one to rely on.

You knew you were hurting him, just like you knew you were going to hurt Quinn, and maybe even Jack. Because that’s what you did to people, you hurt them.

Luke steps back, then he’s walking towards the door where Quinn stood, getting inside without saying a word.

You took a deep breath, thankful for all of the times you wanted to cry at work but couldn’t because you were surrounded by people. Now you know how to push your tears back whenever you need to.

“Maddie?” You hear Quinn’s soft whisper beside you, only then realizing he had gotten closer, and was now holding you by your waist. “What happened, sweetheart?”

You, you think. You happened, Quinn. You and your brothers and your parents.

You try to smile, knowing it wouldn’t reach your eyes. “Luke and I were just talking, it’s fine.”

“You look like you’ve seen a ghost and Lukey looked like he had just lost a game by 10-0,” he stares at you, worried. “Tell me what happened.”

“Nothing happened, I swear,” you lie through your teeth, knowing he would see right through it. “Let’s go back to the party.”

“We’re not going back there with you like this,” he frowns. “Let’s go back to the hotel.”

You shake your head, already letting go of him. “No. We came all the way here to see Jack and that’s what we’re going to do.”

“But—”

You kiss his lips gently, briefly touching them.

“Please? I’m fine, I swear.”

He stares at you for a while, his eyes searching for an answer in yours, but whatever he found made him give up, briefly nodding before kissing your forehead and walking you back to Jack’s party.

And just like that, you had your confirmation.

Even though you’re one hundred percent sure that you were meant to be his, Quinn Hughes wasn’t meant to be yours.

taglist: @hischierswhore @ru-kru @alwaysclassyeagle @he6rtshaker @nope-i-am-done @nngkay 🤎

[justsomerandomfanfic]

Dreaming Of You - Tenth Doctor X GN Reader

Title: Dreaming Of You

Tenth Doctor X GN Reader

Additional Characters: Reader's parents (Mentioned), Actual doctors (Mentioned), Charlotte (Mentioned), Lucie (Mentioned), Rose Tyler (Mentioned), Martha (Mentioned), Donna (Mentioned), Jackie (Mentioned), and some popular Doctor Who aliens (Mentioned)

WC: 3,501

Warnings: Reader's parents to have been mentioned sending the Reader to a therapist/psychologist, brief mention of Rose and the Doctor's separation, it's a small bit sad, but only for a second, first meeting, not a lot of dialogue, past mini angst parental-wise, and fluff

Ever since you were a child, around seven or eight, you would have vivid dreams about one person. Though, that person seemed to change every couple of years. You had seen so many faces, but in your dreams, they were all the same man; or whom you had thought was a man at the time. 

Your dreams always consisted of him, in a strange room with blinking buttons and metal levers... And a strange blue police box. Sometimes you would see others, but they never lasted long in your dreams. They always... Faded out. You had no idea why.

Soon after your first couple of dreams, you would begin drawing him and the many adventures that he seemed to go on. You had even gone to your parents at some point with your drawings. You had thought that they would be interested in your designs and works, asking you questions with curiosity and intrigue... When in reality, they looked at you with worry, especially since most of your drawings - other than the strange man with many faces - were of horrific alien-like creatures. Instead of compliments and questions, they sent you to a child therapist... And psychologists in later years.

None of the many therapists and psychologists that you had gone to knew exactly what you were - quote on quote - suffering from. Some said that you just had an overactive imagination, while some said that you were possibly stressed or anxious. You didn't like going to the appointments. When explaining your dreams and showing off some of your drawings, they would all just act so concerned and confused. That just made you feel more and more uncomfortable as time went by. None of them really took you seriously.

It got to the point that you lied to your parents and said that your dreams had stopped. The dreams didn't stop, but you stopped showing your parents your drawings and stopped letting them read in your dream journal... And soon enough, they got off your back and you didn't have to see those doctors anymore. 

This all didn't stop you from continuing to draw and write about your dreams though. You kept writing and you kept drawing. At this point, having moved out of your parents' home, and having your own place to live, you had more than three dozen drawing sketchbooks filled to the brim with sketches; the same goes for those dream journals. It took around two cardboard boxes just to pack them all away when moving. 

And even into adulthood, you had thought that at some point the dreams were going to fade away, but they didn't. In fact, you could argue that they only got more vivid, and more detailed as time went on. The drawings also became more and more realistic. And you couldn't help but wonder if it was because of how often you drew him. All the dreams, all the drawing, all that practice made you a pretty good artist if you had to say so yourself. 

But you had questions that didn't have answers, and you wanted those answers. Why were your dreams so vivid, realistic, and detailed? Was there any truth behind them? You were sure that there was, but you had no way of proving it. You weren't sure if you even wanted proof some days. The dreams were a part of who you were now, and they were not easy to ignore. It even came to a point where they were talking...

When you were a kid, the dreams were silent. No one said anything. You would just watch as this man traveled around the strange room, pushing buttons and so on. More often than not, you'd watch as he and a friend would travel to strange and astounding new worlds, meeting equally strange and astounding beings. But as their lips and mouths moved, you never heard a sound. It was almost like a silent-picture movie.

Only a couple of months after you turned seventeen, did you begin to hear things in those said dreams. It was as if someone was turning up the volume on the radio really, really slow. By the tenth or so dream, you could hear them clearly as if you were right beside them. You heard their conversations, their secrets, dreams, worries, fears... Everything. You found out what the man with the many faces was called; The Doctor, and that he was a Time Lord from a planet that no longer existed. As well the names of his prior companions and the planets and galaxies that they traveled to in space and time. 

For years, every night, you had seen them and got to know them. You grew attached to them. The first one that you could remember was named Ace. There was even a Charlotte, and Lucie, and many others. But, then came Rose Tyler. Now, you remembered her name and face very well. You had grown very fond of her until she faded out of your dreams as well. It was a bit silly, but when you saw roses for sale, you bought them. You always had roses in your blue vase in your kitchen by the window. And only somewhat recently - in the past year or so - had you seen two new people with the Doctor; Martha and Donna. Martha was gone, long faded a couple of months ago, but Donna had stayed and was still in your dreams as of last night. 

And though, having these dreams was, in fact, very intriguing and thought-inducing, they weren't always so grand. In addition to seeing all the marvelous places that the Doctor and his companions went to, there were the horrors that came with it. You had seen so many beings, so many creatures. And though some were quite peaceful, your mind was somewhat plagued by the evil ones. Though you had once thought Daleks were cool, design-wise, you began to fear them. Especially after what your dreams had said about them, had shown you. You feared the Clockwork Droids and the Sycorax. Not to mention the Abzorbaloff and the Racnoss. And you found the Ood quite interesting, despite their somewhat frightening appearance.

It was around eight in the morning when you woke up, your alarm blaring. You quickly grabbed your dream journal, writing down your latest dream involving the Doctor and Donna Noble before getting to work with a sketch. Swapping your dream journal, you grabbed your sketchbook and pencils. For the next hour or so, you sketched what you remember most about your dream. This dream was a bit different than most of the others that you had had, this one featuring less running for their lives and more enjoying their lives. They had traveled to this planet that the Doctor found extraordinary. It was purple. The ground was purple, and the grass and vegetation were purple. And the large trees, reminding you of Giant Sequoias, were orange and red. You liked the red ones best. You loved it when the Doctor stood in front of one of those orange trees, admiring the colors as the sun rose. You wondered what it might have felt like to have been there. What did the planet smell like? Sound like?

Before you knew it, your mind had wandered, and you snapped out of your memories of your recent dream. Looking down at the two pages that you practically filled with sketches from the said dream, you sighed. Like most days, you had filled the page with him. Mostly. The page on the left had a sketch of the large, towering trees, the silhouettes of the Doctor and Donna standing before them, looking so small. On the same page, you had even drawn some of the plants that the Doctor had pointed out to Donna with such infatuation and excitement. Then, turning to the page on the right, it was filled to the brim with just the Doctor. A collage of his many different expressions; joy, excitement, calm, and content. 

Some were of him from his side profile, while others were of his full frontal view; brown suit and dirty Converse. He had a goofy grin, in what was the middle of a bright laugh, his hands on his hips as if he was proud of himself. His hair was very messy, with dark strands sticking up everywhere, unable to be captured and secured by the gel in his hair. He looked so carefree. Other sketches showed just his eyes, the dark orbs seemed to stare at you through the page; in addition to some of just his nose, hands, or that smile of his. In the bottom right corner of the collage, you had a drawing of him crouching in front of one of the many plants, arms resting on his knees as he stared down at it thoughtfully. 

You found him beautiful. 

That was something that you had noticed in the many, many years of seeing the spaceman in your dreams. He was handsome, caring, and thoughtful. Very handsome indeed, although you wouldn't admit it to anyone. Most people would probably think that you were crazy if you had told them that you were crushing on a man that you had seen every night in your dreams for years upon years. And that's why you never told anyone. Not even your closest friends knew about your dreams, your journals, or your drawings. 

Sighing, you snapped out of your thoughts once more before writing the date and time - ‘March 21st, 2024, 8:53 AM’ - in the corner of the left side page in fine print. Then, right below, you wrote, 'Day 8,432.' Setting your pencil down, you stared at the finished two pages for a moment before closing the sketchbook slightly. You would have to go and buy a new sketchbook soon, you were almost out of room; running out of pages.

Checking the time, you figured you had enough time to look at the previous dreams. Flipping towards the front of the sketchbook, you reminisced over the dreams you had seen throughout the year. The first page of the sketchbook was of the last couple of dreams with Rose. 

Fighting off or running from different types of aliens. Her and the Doctor holding hands, smiling at each other. Staring up at falling snow… Having tea with Jackie… Fighting the Daleks… The tears streamed down their cheeks. The Doctor… Hand and cheek pressed against a white wall, unable to do anything, helpless. And Rose, stuck in another dimension; in agony, heartbroken.

You bit your bottom lip as you flipped through the pages and the memories, you stumbled past the ten pages of Martha before landing back to Donna. 

You had often wondered whether your dreams truly meant anything. You had thought that there had to be some way that they did. Your mind would think rationally, telling you that you just had an overactive imagination like all those doctors had told you. But, your heart wished and yearned for something more. The thought that something more was out there. That there were beings and creatures out in the far-off places of the galaxy that you and everyone else hadn't yet seen. The whole thought was fascinating and you only wished that it was true. You had always wished for there to be something more out there.

Shutting your sketchbook, you quickly got ready for the day; getting dressed, brushing your hair, teeth, and so on. After eating breakfast, you grabbed your messenger bag and stuffed your pencil case, sketchbook, wallet, phone, and whatever else you needed for work before leaving your home. 

The walk to work was a bit too quick for your liking, but time seemed to fly and before you knew it, it was your lunch break. Walking down the sidewalk, you were minding your own business, somewhat lost in your thoughts. Headphones over your head, you listened to your playlist as you headed towards your favorite cafe where you always had lunch; their sandwiches were to die for.

But before you could decide on whether or not to get a coffee or indulge yourself in a milkshake, you felt a tap on your shoulder. You stopped, turned, and then froze. Your eyes widened, your jaw dropping slightly as you stared at the man before you. Dressed in a brown suit with a white button-up and brown detailed tie; complete with a brown, long overcoat and off-white Converse. He had very familiar brown, sticky-uppy hair and striking brown eyes... His gaze, intense, stared right back at you. As handsome as ever. His eyebrows were slowly but surely furrowing as the corners of his lips twitched into a confused frown. 

You were literally speechless, your shaky hands moving your headphones to rest around your neck. He was actually here. Standing right in front of you. After a few moments of silence of staring at each other - but what felt like hours for you - his mouth opened, his voice sounding just like how you remembered it, just like in your dreams, only clearer. "Hello." He said simply, tilting his head to the side and raising his hand to reveal the pencil he held within it. "I think you dropped this."

You looked from him to your pencil, and back, and finally, you could breathe. "O-Oh... Uh, thank you." You took your pencil from him before daring to look back up at him. 

He continued to stare at you, obviously confused that you could practically see the gears turning in that head of his. "Do I know you?" He asked, stuffing his hands into the large pockets of his brown overcoat. He raked through his mind, trying to figure out if he had ever met you or run into you before when he visited Earth, but he was left empty-handed. He was sure that he would’ve remembered you if he had met you. “You seem to know me…”

You let out a breath, blinking rapidly, still shocked out of your mind that the literal man of your dreams was standing right in front of you. It couldn't and shouldn't have been possible. 

"No... I don't think you know me..." You muttered, swallowing thickly, unable to break your gaze from his hazelnut brown eyes. "But... But I do know you." That only seemed to confuse him more. Quickly looking away, you checked your watch on your wrist before looking back up at him, "I can explain everything somewhat if you have the time- nevermind," You shook your head - as if what you had said was ridiculous, which it was in his case - and waved your hand dismissively, "Time is relative... Ball of wibbly-wobbly, timey-wimey stuff." You muttered the last couple of lines, mostly to yourself, but he heard you; only spiking his immense curiosity. "Uh, just follow me." 

The man - The Doctor - followed you without a second thought, a step or two behind you as you led him to the park across the street. Finding a park bench somewhat away from the main path, you took a seat. As the Doctor sat down beside you, you took your messenger bag into your lap, opening it. The Doctor watched intently as you grabbed your sketchbook and passed it to him.

He noted your name on the cover before he opened it to the first page and froze. Though as quickly as he froze, he unfroze, quickly but carefully flipping through the many pages of your sketchbook; his, and many of his past and current companions' faces staring up at him.

Martha and Donna… And Rose…

Along with objects and aliens from his prior adventures; the TARDIS - inside and exterior - his Sonic Screwdriver, Oods, and Daleks…

And in the first couple of pages, he even saw one of his past faces. 

He saw little scenes, moments of his life and the adventures he had been on with his companions. He saw a sketch of himself, standing before the Clockwork Droids in the ballroom when they had wanted to harvest Madame de Pompadour’s brain for the ship. Turning a couple of pages, he saw a sketch of when he and Martha were in the hospital she worked at when it was transported to the moon. And flipping a couple of more pages, he saw when he saved Donna from the Empress of the Racnoss on her wedding day.

Once he got to the last and recent page, he looked up at you. And what you had thought was going to be a look of confusion and shock, you were surprised to find that instead, he had a wide grin on his face; eyes wide in excitement and curiosity. "This is incredible!" Your eyes widened.

"What?"

"Your drawings of course!" He answered, gesturing to your sketchbook with a hand, "I must know, can you see the future or into the past? Or do these just come to you? In all my years of traveling through space and time, I have never seen anything like this, to this extent!"

You blinked, "Uh... I don't really know much or how this works... I'm still a bit shocked you're even real, in front of me." You rubbed your cheek, glancing away, "Ever since I was a kid, I've had dreams about you every night." You inwardly cringed when you said that aloud, "They're so vivid, so... Real. They feel so real!" You paused, thinking about it. Looking back up at him, you continued, "I've seen everything you and your companions had gone through. Daleks, cybermen, everything. Well, not everything. But, I've seen a lot of it." You looked down at your lap, "I have always wondered whether or not those dreams really meant something if they were as real as they seemed to be. Or if I was just crazy… For years, I have always wondered if there was really life beyond Earth, beyond the solar system... If there was something bigger, better out there in the vastness of space." You closed your eyes, taking a deep breath. Opening them again, you looked up at him; watching as the Doctor stared at you in wonder. His eyes sparkled, filled with emotion. He was clearly fascinated.

And he was fascinated. He was so incredibly captivated by everything about this human who sat before him. "So you know who I am?" He passed back your sketchbook.

You nodded. "Of course. You're the Doctor." You answered simply.

You then watched as he then wordlessly grabbed the Sonic Screwdriver from the inside pocket of his overcoat before scanning you. You blinked again, the somewhat bright, blue light blinding you momentarily as the Doctor stared down at the object with a thoughtful frown. "Well, you're human all right. Nothing out of the ordinary there." He was silent for a long moment before suddenly looking up at you with a small grin, eyes still bright. "Come with me."

Your eyes widened, "What?"

He stood from the bench and offered you his hand, grinning at your bewildered expression. "Come with me. The TARDIS brought me to you for a reason. See the great dying stars of the Berugawa galaxy, see new worlds, and new beings, and see amazing planets beyond your wildest imagination!”

Your eyes widened. The sight of him, the way his warm chocolate eyes gleamed, and the way his face lit up made your heart flutter; the charm. There was always something that drew you to him, something about his aura that made your heart beat faster and your chest tighten; a sort of gravitational pull that seemed to pull you closer to him; like the planets that orbited around the sun. 

You could finally see all the things that you had seen in your dreams. You could live the life that you so wished that you could live. One of adventure and discovery; one of being able to go anywhere and see anything. To learn anything you could, to experience everything possible. And you could even possibly find out why you’ve been having those dreams in the first place. The possibilities were endless...

And then you saw him - the Doctor - your dream come true, standing right in front of you; his open hand waiting for yours.

A smile slowly stretched across your lips as you took his hand, standing up. Hands interlocked at your sides, you followed the Doctor to the TARDIS, which sat parked on the curb, waiting patiently for its passengers. You felt excitement bubble within your stomach as he opened the door, your smile widening at the sight. 

The Doctor watched you with his own grin as he led you inside. You slowly dropped his hand as you slowly spun around you, looking at the lights and the console in the middle of the room; unable to stop smiling; the awe on your face made his grin widen. "I know you hear this a lot, but..." You began, turning around to look up at him, your grin matching his. "It's bigger on the inside."