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lee-laurent · 5 days ago

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In Your Shadow - Luke Hughes

Summary: In which Madi Sheridan hates Luke Hughes with every bone in her body. Or in which Luke bickers constantly with the hottest girl he's ever seen.

content: angst, arguing, underage drinking, not quite smut... but close

wc: 10k

notes: enemies to lovers, he falls first! sooooo this isn't the one that got voted to come out first... but i had more inspo for this one soooooo here we are!!! enjoy!! quinn fic in progress

The whistle blew, it's sharp trill filling the air.

"Let's go, Sheridan! I want fire under those spikes!" Coach Mallory barked from the edge of the track, clipboard in hand and zero sympathy in her voice.

Madi didn't respond; her feet were already moving.

The air was cold enough to burn in her lungs, but that didn't matter. Neither did the sting in her thighs, the pounding in her ears, or the way the lane lines blurred as she hit top speed. Just the next fifty metres daring her to quit.

She didn't.

Coach yelled again, something about pushing past limits, but it faded into the background. Madi hit the finish line and slowed only when her legs threatened to buckle. Her breathing came in short, measured gasps. She folded forward, hands on knees, sweat dripping down her back.

"Good pace," Coach muttered as she passed. "But don't get cocky. You've got two more sets."

Madi just nodded, still catching her breath. She was used to the grind. Thrived on it. She didn't run for applause or Intagram likes. She ran because she had to, her scholarship depended on it. Her degree depended on it. The life she was building, the one no one could take from her, depended on it.

That was enough to keep her running.

By noon, she was two workouts deep and dead-eyed in the back of her econ lecture.

She sat in her usual seat, third row from the back, directly under the overhead vent that always blaseted Artice wind. Her laptop was open, notes scrolled in neat, bullet-pointed order. Her hair was braided tight against her scalp, hoodie sleeves pulled over her fingers, earbuds in. Not for music, but for the illusion of being unapproachable.

Next to her sat her holy trinity: a large iced coffee, a half-eaten protein bar, and an energy drink she'd already forgotten buying. Survival mode.

Professor Dawes clicked through slides at a painful speed.

"Inelastic demand curves reflect products that remain essential regardless of price fluctuations..." he droned.

Madi sipped her coffee and typed with ruthless effciency. She didn't glance at the two girls whispering in front of her or the guy on her left who kept trying to catch her eye. She wasn't in econ class to make friends. She was there to get the grades she needed to walk across a stage in two years with zero debt and multiple options.

He phone buzzed against her thigh.

Beckett: Wanna grab food after practice later?

She stared at the message for three seconds, expression flat, then locked her phone without answering.

He'd ask again.

The house smelled like eucalyptus and leftover takeout when she got home.

Maia was in the kitchen with a clay face mask on and a spoonful of peanut butter in her mouth. Izzy was curled up on the couch, buried under an anatomy textbook and a heating pad. Val's shoes were already at the door, track bag open and spilling contents like a crime scene.

"You look like you got hit by a bus," Maia said cheerfully as Madi dropped her backpack by the door.

"That's because I did," Madi muttered. "Its name was Coach Mallory."

Maia grinned, peanut butter still in hand. "Tell me she made you run the pyramid."

"Twice."

Izzy looked up with a groan. "Why are you like this?"

"I'm funded by the university to sprint in a circle like a glorified lab rat," Madi said, toeing off her sneakers. "And I'd like to keep it that way."

Val emerged from the hallway, towel around her neck, sports bra soaked. "Honestly? She was kiling us too. I thought that one lanky kid was gonna throw up on the turf."

"I wouldn't have stopped him," Madi said. "Natural selection."

Maia raised an eyebrow. "You're so mean. It's hot."

Madi shrugged, pulling her hair loose from the braid. "You either burn out or you make it out. No in-between."

"That sounds like a quote you'd find on Tumblr with a graphic of a wolf running through fire," Izzy said.

"Whatever. I'd rather die successful."

Maia dramatically clutched her peanut butter like a mic. "And there it is, folks. The thesis of Madeline Sheridan."

"I'm gonna shower before I start on my econ project," Madi said, ignoring them. "Also Beckett texted."

"Ooooooh," Val sang from the fridge. "Are we still playing that game?"

"There's no game."

"Sure," Maia said, already texting someone. "And I don't have a list of list of every cute guy I've seen on campus."

"Sher," Izzy said in a fake-Beckett voice, "you're the only girl I know who could break my heart and my legs at the same time."

Madi flipped her off without looking back.

Her phone buzzed again after dinner.

Benders + Bitches Eddy: pregame at ours tonight Nolan: 8 sharp... don't be late Maia: if i get stuck talking to that one guy who smells like axe and sweat again i'm jumping off the roof Izzy: shotgun not dealing with Luke and Madi's sexual tension this time Madi: there's no tension. he's just annoying Maia: you say that, but you're already typing again Madi: because I have to mentally prepare to be in the same room as a dude whose ego could crowd out the whole team Val: let her cook

Madi tossed her phone face down and groaned into her pillow.

Of all the people she had to tolerate on a weekly basis, Luke Hughes topped the list of "least likely to survive if she were left alone with him in a locked room." Something about him just... grated. It wasn't that he was bad at hockey--he wasn't. He was good. She'd admit that. But the golden boy status? The name? The coverage?

Overhyped. Overcelebrated. Over it.

And he knew it. That was the worst part. The smug little smile when he got chirped on campus. The way he leaned into the whole "Hughes Dynasty" thing like he didn't care, but definitely did. She'd seen enough of TikToks of him to last a lifetime.

She scrolled up in the chat.

pregame at ours tonight

Gold help her.

Because she'd be there. Of course she'd be there. Everyone would be.

And if Luke opened his mouth one more time, she was absolutely going to break the no-fighting-inside-the-hockey-house rule.

Pregame? More like party.

The house was LOUD by the time the Madi and the girls rolled up.

The living room smelled like Febreeze. Someone had dimmed the lights just enough to make the mess less obvious. Beer pong cups stacked on the table, bluetooth speaker fighting to be heard, at least three-finished Natty Lights laying around.

Madi took it in with the same energy she approached everything: calculated.

Val beelined for the pong table. Maia started chatting up a guy in a Michigan hoodie she'd definitely ghosted two months ago. Izzy wandered off to hunt down tequila. Madi found a spot in the corner, wedged between the arm of the couch and a shelf stacked with empty bottles.

She nursed her cooler, eyes scanning the room, already clocking how chaotic the night would be.

"Sheridan," Ethan called as he passed, giving her a little salute with his beer. "You looked thrilled to be here."

"I'm about to set this place on fire."

Nolan walked by next and clapped her on the shoulder like they were teammates. "Try not to kill anyone until after beer pong."

"No promises."

She didn't hate the hockey guys... most of them, anyway. They were loud, sure, and always smelled vaguely of Gatorade and testosterone, but they were fun. And, to their credit, they hadn't treated her and her friends like groupies when they met during frosh week. They were just... their friends. Madi knew how to handle them. She liked how easy it was. The mutual respect they all had for each other.

Except for Luke.

Luke was a different breed of infuriating.

And as if right on cue, the front creaked open.

He walked in with Luca and Mark, nodding at a few people, eyes sweeping the room, completely relaxed in his own skin. That whole effortlessly cool thing? It would've worked on her, if she hadn't already built a mental firewall to block it.

Madi raised her can.

"Well, well. The prodigal son has returned," she said loud enough for him to hear. "Did you trip over your ego on the way here?"

Luke didn't even blink. "Still faster than you."

There it was.

A few heads turned. A couple of laughs bubbled up from nearby. Madi's smirk sharpened.

"Bold talk for someone who spends most of the game glued to the bench," she said.

He shrugged, completely unbothered. "I only need one shift to make it count. You wouldn't know anything about that."

"Oh," Madi said, stepping forward, "if I had your PR team, I'd be on a fucking Wheaties box by now."

Luke smiled, and not the friendly kind. The "I could fight you or fuck you and I'm not sure which is worse" kind.

"Keep dreaming, Sheridan."

She rolled her eyes and turned away, pulse annoyingly elevated. He always did that. Always got the last word, like it was competition only he knew the rules to. And she always let him.

Twenty minutes and a vodka soda later, Madi had settled into a buzz. The music got louder, the bodies packed tighter, and the familiar haze of house party chaos started to dull her irritation.

Maia came up beside her, cheeks flushed. "Okay, hot take: that guy I was talking to definitely cried during The Notebook."

"He looks like he owns a guitar he only knows how to play Wonderwall on," Madi muttered.

Izzy reappeared. "Okay, mean girls. Chill."

"No mean," Madi said. "Accurate."

"Speaking of accuracy," Val said, sliding in from the kitchen, "Eddy just told me he thinks Luke and Madi are gonna hook up before the semester ends."

Madi nearly choked on her drink.

"Absolutely the fuck not," she said, coughing. "That man gives me hives."

"Sexy hives," Maia offered.

"Stress hives," Madi shot back.

Izzy raised her eyebrows. "He's hot though."

"Statistically? Maybe. Personally? He's a walking migraine."

Maia leaned in close. "Yet somehow, he still gets under your skin faster than Beckett."

The name didn't hit her the way it used to. That was... interesting.

"Speaking of," Izzy said, glancing toward the door, "look who just walked in."

Madi turned her head, and there he was. Beckett, all tan and grins, shoulders draped in a windbreaker like he was in a Nike ad. His blond hair was messier than usual. He spotted her instantly.

"Sher," he called, moving through the sea of bodies.

He wrapped an arm around her shoulders like it was second nature. Madi didn't push him off, but she didn't lean in, either.

"Hey," she said, her tone neutral.

"You look good," he said, pressing a kiss to the side of her temple. "Missed you at the game last week."

She shrugged. "Coach had us running circuits."

He nodded, not bothered. That was the thing about Beckett... he never got bothered. Never asked too many questions. Never pushed too hard. He was safe, predictable, easy.

She let him stay there, arm draped casually, while her eye flicked across the room.

Luke was at the kitchen counter, half-listening to Nolan talk, red solo cup in hand. His jaw was set, shoulders tight. He hadn't looked over once.

But Madi knew he'd seen.

Ten minutes passed. Beckett was off catching up with someone from the soccer team. Madi stayed where she was, a new cup in hand, cheeks flushed from the heat.

Luke walked by, brushing past her without a word.

She didn't even know she'd been waiting for something until he gave her nothing.

It irritated her more than it should have.

She turned to find Maia already watching her.

"What?"

Maia tilted her head, voice low. "He gets so weird when Beckett's around."

Val nodded. "Jealousy looks good on Hughes."

Madi scoffed. "Please. He's not jealous. He's just mad I'm not impressed."

Maia smirked. "You sure you're not?"

"Positive."

But her stomach was doing something weird, unsettled. She hated it because she didn't like Luke. Not even a little...

Right?

The locker room was quiet. Not silent though, it was never silent.

Luke sat in his stall, elbow resting on his knee, towel drapped over his shoulders, curls wet. Practice had been fine. A little sloppy. He wasn't in his zone. Coach hadn't mentioned it, but Luke could feel it in his movements.

He knew why, he just didn't want to admit it.

He leaned forward and rubbed a hand over his face. The buzzing in his head wouldn't stop.

Madi fucking Sheridan.

He pulled his phone from his bag and stared at it. No notifications or messages. Just the time and the way it mocked him. Four hours until conditioning. Probably six until he'd run into her again.

And she'd look right through him. With that sharp little smirk and her eyebrows cocked like she was perpetually unimpressed.

It had all started before he even knew what was happening.

He remembered the first time he saw her.

Everyone was still new, new campus, new teams, new people to pretend to be chill around. There was a mixer at one of the dorm rec rooms. Someone had ordered pizza, someone else had brought a speaker. Everyone was awkward in that freshman "we're all pretending not to be terrified" way.

Luke had been talking to a couple of guys from the swim team when she walked in with her (now) roommates. Confident, not trying at all. She was wearing bike shorts and a hoodie that said "St. Georges Track and Field" in peeling white print.

She didn't even look at him. That alone should've told him.

Eventually, someone had introduced them. Her name was Madi. Short for Madeline. She said it like she didn't care if he remembered it or not.

"You play hockey?" she asked, sipping root beer from a solo cup.

"Yeah," he said. "My name's Luke. Hughes."

She blinked once. "Cool."

That was it.

No follow-up. No "Oh my God, Hughes like Jack?" No fake excitement or name-dropping or asking what position he played. Just a flat, polite cool and then she turned back to Val to talk about which bathroom had the best lighting.

He'd never wanted someone to look at him twice so badly.

He remembered other things too.

The time he made a joke about sprinters being short-distance specialists because they were scared of endurance and she replied, "Don't be mad that my entire event lasts less than your warmup and still requires more skill."

The time he tried to cut in line at the on-campus café and she'd stepped in front of him with a, "Who told you that you could stand with me?"

The time she absolutely bodied a guy on the intramural field during a co-ed dodgeball game and didn't even celebrate. She just turned and walked off like it was nothing.

She didn't attention.

Madi wanted control.

And she had it, always. Perfectly. Except when she was arguing with him.

That was the only time she cracked.

A week ago, he'd gone to her meet.

He didn't tell anyone, just pulled a hoodie over his hat, grabbed a protein shake, and stood near the bleachers where none of the team parents were sitting. Her event was the 200. He knew that, had Googled it more than once.

She exploded out of the blocks like her feet were made of fire.

Arms tight, form clean, controlled chaos. She didn't lead until the curve, but by the final stretch she was untouchable. The rest of the heat faded behind her.

She crossed the line and didn't even smile.

Just bent at the waist, hands on knees, and breathed through it like it was all routine. Like winning was the bar.

He left before she saw him.

He wasn't used to be being subtle. He didn't know how to do it. With everything else, he just showed up, played hard, let the results speak. And yeah, okay, sometimes the name helped. He wasn't blind to that. He just didn't let it define him.

But with Madi?

With Madi, the name meant nothing.

Wore than nothing. She hated it.

Which made no sense. Because if it were about fame, she could've just ignored him. Most people who thought he was overrated just kept it moving. Not her.

She hunted him like a sport, gave him shit in front of everyone, picked him apart like she was trying to prove a point to the universe.

It should've pissed him off. And it did. Sometimes.

Bust most of the time?

Most of the time, it made him think about the way her mouth looked when she said his name. The way her tone always landed somwhere between sarcasm and challenge. The way she never smiled at him unless she was about to gut him.

He could deal with hate. He couldn't deal with indifference.

And she rarely ignored him.

The other night at the party?

She'd looked good.

Not trying-good. Just her usual ponytail, jeans, crop top, usual drink in hand. But when she'd raised her voice from across the room to mock him, something in his chest snapped.

He didn't even think. Just shot back, easy as breathing. "Still faster than you."

She smiled. Not nice. But real.

And then Beckett showed up.

Fucking Beckett.

Luke had no issue with the guy in theory--nice enough, decent soccer player, one of those effortlessly chill dudes who got by on charms and abs. But the way he said "Sher"? The way he wrapped his arm around her like he had access?

Luke had bailed to the kitchen before he did something stupid. And that's when it hit him.

He wasn't just annoyed. He was gone.

No version of normal crush territory would have him memorizing her event times or noticing the exact cadence of her laugh when she was having a good time.

She didn't like him. She'd made that clear.

But he still wanted her to look at him like he was more than just a name.

Madi hated him. Maybe not in the "wish you were dead" way, but enough to make it impossible to say anything real to her without getting sucker-punched emotionally.

And yet, he couldn't stop looking at her, like she had him in a headlock he didn't want to escape.

The living room looked like a Pinterest board. Textbooks were stacked on the coffee table, highlighters bled through paper, half-eaten snacks in mismatched bowls. Someone's laptop was blasting a Spotify "Focus Mode" playlist that wasn't helping anyone's focus.

Madi sat cross-legged on the floor, her notes spread in front of her like a crime scene.

Across the room Maia and Nolan were playing footsie instead of studying. Val had her laptop open but hadn't typed in twenty minutes. Ethan was half-asleep against the armrest, earbuds in, hood up.

Fake study night. Classic.

She needed caffeine if she was going to power through this next chapter without stabbing herself.

She stood, stretched her legs, and made her way into the kitchen.

The second she stepped in, she regretted it.

Luke was already there.

He had his back to her, rummaging in the fridge like he lived there. Which, to be fair, wasn't far from the truth. The hockey guys were over often enough that their beer took up a drawer on the bottom shelf.

Madi inhaled once, calm and centered, and stepped around him to grab a mug.

"I'm not in the mood," she said flatly.

"For what?" he asked, still not turning.

"Whatever stupid comment you're about to make."

He finally looked over his shoulder. "You think I wake up every day thinking about ways to piss you off?"

"No," she said, pouring water into the kettle. "I think it just comes naturally."

He let the fridge close with a thud. "Cool. Thanks for the insight, Dr. Sheridan."

She arched a brow. "Did you just call me a doctor because I'm smarter than you, or because you're hoping I'll diagnose you with whatever makes you such a dick?"

Luke smiled. "There it is."

"There what is?"

"That defensive little jab. Every time."

"Maybe it's less defensive and more observational," she said, dropping a spoon into her mug. "Like noticing how you only ever show up with your boys and a half-assed opinion."

His eyes narrowed. "Why're you always on my ass?"

Madi didn't flinch.

"Because I don't like frauds with press coverage."

The air changed.

There was no one else around. No music or Val's cackling laugh. Just the two of them in the dim kitchen light, surrounded by the hiss of the kettle and buzz of the fridge.

Luke didn't move, his jaw twitching once.

"You don't know a thing about me," he said quietly.

Madi looked up, holding his stare.

"Don't need to."

They were close now. Not physically, there was still a sliver of space between them, but the kind of close that made goosebumps form on the back of her neck.

It wasn't flirtation or heat.

It was pressure.

He looked at her like he wanted to say something. Maybe scream it, throw it in her face. She wasn't sure which and she wasn't sure she cared.

The kettle clicked off behind her.

Madi didn't turn around. She walked right past him instead, mug in hand, and didn't pause until her shoulder clipped his arm hard enough to jolt them both.

He didn't say anything.

But when she glanced back over her shoulder, just for a second, he was still standing there.

Fists clenched. Jaw tight. Eyes completely unreadable.

Another week, another party at the hockey house. Another night of shitty music, too much alcohol, and too many people Madi disliked.

She was leaning against the counter in the kitchen, nursing a solo cup of something vaguely lime-flavoured and far too sweet. Her cheeks were flushed, her ponytail a little looser than it had been when she left the house, and her buzz was just strong enough to mute the part of her brain that kept her from running her mouth.

"Sher!"

She turned as Beckett appeared, golden and grinning as always, like he was the model in an expensive cologne ad. His sleeves were rolled up, exposing tan forearms that were probably illegal in some countries. He slid up beside her like he hadn't been flirting with half the girls in their one shared class earlier that week.

"Figured I'd find you near the alcohol," he said.

"Figured I'd find you still pretending you're not a lightweight," she replied, tipping her cup toward him.

He smirked and leaned in, way too close, breath warm on her cheek. "Admit it. You missed me."

Madi gave him a slow look. "I missed quiet."

He laughed and grabbed two shot glasses from the counter. "We're celebrating. Take one with me."

"They tied," she said flatly.

"A moral victory."

She rolled her eyes but didn't say no. They clinked plastic and tossed them back. Tequila, cheap and brutal.

He grimaced. "Yeah, I still hate it."

"That's because you're weak," she said, tongue scraping across her teeth. "Grow up."

Beckett just laughed and wrapped an arm around her waist.

Luke watched the whole thing from the other side of the kitchen. He was near the wall, drunk untouched, jaw set. Nolan was talking next to him, something about the second period and missed calls, but Luke wasn't listening. He hadn't been listening for the past twenty minutes... not since Madi had walked in wearing black jeans and that cropped Michigan track shirt that made his blood temperature shift.

She looked good. Annoyingly so. Confident, relaxed, loose in a way he never got to see her. Unless it was aimed at someone else.

Someone like Beckett.

And when she threw her head back laughing at whatever the hell he said? Luke thought, briefly, about walking out the front door and never coming back.

But instead, he stood there, watching and waiting. His fingers curled tight around his beer.

Across the room, Madi climbed up to sit on the counter, leaning back against a cupboard, her girlfriends had come to talk with her.

"Okay," she said fairly loudly, eyes scanning her group, "honest question."

Izzy groaned immediately. "No."

"Yes," Madi insisted, grinning. "Important cultural debate."

Maia laughed. "God, here we go."

"If," Madi said, drawing out the word like a dare, "you had to choose one Hughes brother..."

Beckett booed. Some girl shouted "don't make me choose!"

"I'm just saying!" Madi went on. "One night. One chance. Who are you choosing?"

"Jack," Val said, sipping her drink.

"Wrong," Madi replied.

Maia shrugged. "I'd climb Quinn like a tree."

"Thank you," Madi declared. "See? Finally, someone with taste."

Across the room, Luke's expression changed. Just barely.

She went on. "Quinn Hughes? Now that's a man I'd risk it all for."

One of the girls giggled, "Someone text Vancouver!"

Luke didn't laugh.

"I mean, come on," Madi added, tequila coating her tongue. "If I got just half an hour with him--"

She didn't finish the sentence.

Didn't need to, her friends were already laughing.

Luke downed the rest of his drink and disappeared into the other room.

Fifteen minutes later, Madi stepped out of the bathroom, rubbing her hands dry on her jeans.

The hallway was empty. Just dim string lights overhead and music muffled by the door behind her. She didn't even see him coming at first... not until he stepped forward from the shadows by the coat rack, blocking her path.

She blinked. "Jesus. You lurking now?"

Luke's voice was low.

"Say it again."

Madi frowned. "What?"

He stepped closer. "What you said earlier. About Quinn."

She tilted her head. "Are you seriously still mad about--"

"Say it again," he repeated.

Her mouth curled up. "Quinn. Is. Hotter."

It happened all at once.

One second he was glaring at her, chest rising and falling like he was trying to calm down, and the next... his hand was in her hair, and his mouth was on hers.

Hard.

Not sweet or careful. Just full-on, pissed-off, tension-snapping chaos.

Madi froze.

Every nerve in her body lit up like someone had flipped a switch she didn't know about.

And then--against all logic, all sense, all everything-- she kissed him back.

Furiously.

Their teeth clashed. He backed her into the wall, one hand still in her hair, the other braced next to her head. Their mouths moved like they were trying to erase every insult, every eye roll, every "you're so fucking annoying" they'd ever thrown at each other.

She hated how good it all felt.

Hated how badly she wanted more of it. Hated him.

But she didn't stop. Not until reality slammed back in.

Madi shoved him off with both hands, breath ragged, chest heaving.

He stumbled back, blinking like he didn't know where he was.

She stared at him, fury sparking like static on her skin.

"You're such a fucking asshole," she said, voice shaking.

He didn't speak. Didn't move. She turned and walked away, not bothering to look back.

And Luke?

He just stood there, alone in the hallway.

The kiss never happened.

That was the rule.

Madi decided it the second she walked out of that hallway, still breathless, lips stinging, skin buzzing like she'd touched an exposed wire. She went home, peeled her shirt off like it was choking her, stared at her ceiling, and by morning?

It didn't happen.

That was that.

No one mentioned it. No one knew. And Luke sure as hell hadn't tried to bring it up... not that she gave him the chance.

She ghosted him. Effortlessly, professionally. Like it was her Olympic event.

At the next group hang, she made sure to sit at the far end of the room. Didn't acknowledge him. Didn't even look in his direction when he coughed just loud enough for her to hear.

When he passed her on the way to the kitchen and said a low, "Hey," she reached for the salsa and acted like the air had spoken.

Ice him out mode. Activated.

It wasn't that she regretted it--the kiss. Not entirely.

What she regretted was that she kissed him back.

Worse: she wanted to. Like, actually wanted to. Like some sick part of her had been waiting for it.

And that? That couldn't happen.

Because Luke Hughes was the exact kind of guy she didn't have time for.

The cocky, media-groomed, perfectly tousled poster boy of Wolverines hockey. The guy everyone loved because of his name and his stats and his shiny, effortless charm. The guy who had never once had to work for attention... until her.

She didn't want to be one of the girls in his comments. Or his DMs. Or in some whispered story after a party. She didn't even want to like him.

So she didn't.

Problem solved.

The days that followed were filled with controlled chaos.

Madi buried herself in training. She stayed late after track practice, doing extra intervals until her legs screamed. She told Coach she was prepping for a new time trial, even though there wasn't one. She left the house early. Avoided the usual run-ins. Dodged group texts with, "sorry, busy" even when she wasn't.

She picked fights with her roommates just because.

One morning, Maia knocked on the door of their shared bathroom, groggy and half-dressed. "You've been in there forever. Are you doing your taxes or shaving your legs?"

"I'm trying to shower without commentary," Madi snapped, flinging the door open.

Maia blinked. "Okay. Jesus."

Madi rolled her eyes and brushed past her without an apology.

Later, she sat at the kitchen table with her laptop and three empty iced coffee cups and chewed at the end of her pen until the plastic cracked. She scrolled through her econ notes three times and retained none of it.

All she could hear was his voice.

Say it again.

All she could feel was his hand in her hair, his mouth on hers, the way her heart jumped out of her body like it wanted to sprint from the room first.

She slammed her laptop shut and grabbed her keys.

Luke saw her across the quad two days later.

She was walking fast, track girl pace, earbuds in, sunglasses on, hair braided so tight it looked inpenetrable.

She didn't see him.

Or she did... and she ignored him.

He couldn't tell anymore.

He sat on the edge of the stone fountain, thumb running over the seam of his coffee cup. He hadn't said anything to anyone. Not because he didn't want to, but because he didn't know what to say.

They'd kissed. She kissed him back. Then shoved him off like he'd spit on her.

And now?

Now she wouldn't look at him.

At practice, he'd snapped at two teammates and missed an easy drill. At lift, he added extra weight just to push himself. At night, he lay in bed and stared at the ceiling replaying the exact second she said, Quinn. Is. Hotter.

It wasn't even about Quinn.

It was about her looking at him like he didn't matter.

And that? That messed him up more than he could explain.

"Dude," Ethan said the next morning, stepping into the locker room, "what's with you lately?"

Luke didn't look up. "What?"

"You've been all weird and quiet and... intense." He tossed his gear down. "Did you piss off Madi or something?"

Luke paused.

Then shrugged. "No idea."

Ethan raised an eyebrow. "You guys are usually fighting by now. Now you're just... silent. It's freaking everyone out."

Luke didn't answer. He didn't have one.

There was a Jenga tower on coffee table, a charcuterie board on the kitchen counter that no one had touched. A half-played game of Uno in one corner and a speaker playing Izzy's playlist in the other.

Group hang.

One of those things where everyone pretended it was just for the vibes but half the people there were just waiting to see who would crack first.

Madi sat near Val, jaw tight, eyes unreadable. Her entire body language screamed don't start with me.

Luke was on the other side of the table with Mark, sprawled in a beanbag chair like he didn't have an insane amount of tension in his shoulders.

They hadn't looked at each other once.

But the air between them was thin.

"Alright," Nolan said, clapping his hands together. "Everyone's here. Time for a real question. Let's get straight into it."

"Oh god," Maia groaned, curling up against a pillow. "If this ends in trauma dumping, I'm leaving."

"No trauma," Ethan promised, shuffling a deck of cards.

"Perfect," Val nodded.

"Okay, first question." Nolan grinned. "If you had to fight one person in this room--"

"Luke," Madi said immediately.

Heads turned.

Maia made a sound that was mostly air. "Damn."

Luke didn't move.

"Wow," Nolan mumbled. "Didn't even let me finish."

"Didn't have to."

Luke finally looked up. "You're obsessed with me."

"In the way people are obsessed with plane crashes," she replied. "It's the horror."

Maia shot Val a look. Ethan whistled lowly.

Luke sat up straighter. "You've been on my ass for two weeks."

"I've been avoiding your ass for two weeks."

"Oh, avoiding? That's what you call it?"

Madi arched an eyebrow. "Jesus. Do you need attention that badly?"

Luke stood.

The room got quiet.

"Jesus," he snapped, "do you ever shut up?"

And just like that... silence. The kind that makes your skin go cold.

Madi didn't even flinch.

"Only when I'm not near clowns with NHL dreams and zero personality."

It was sharp enough to bleed.

Maia slowly stood up.

"Okay!" she said too brightly. "Game night's over. Everyone go... do something else."

Izzy frowned. "I didn't even get a turn, I--"

Val grabbed her wrist. "We're leaving before someone flips the fucking table."

Luke stormed into the kitchen. Madi stayed exactly where she was.

The rest of the room scattered, pretending they hadn't just seen two people emotionally detonate in front of a game of Jenga and a charcuterie board.

When the girls got home, the living room was quiet. Just Val and Madi on the couch, the others already in bed.

Val didn't say anything for a while, just scrolled on her phone.

Madi finally exhaled, putting her phone down.

"Was I out of line?"

Val looked up slowly. "Do you want the answer that makes you feel better or the honest one?"

Madi groaned. "Forget it."

Val shot her a look. "Why are you like this with him?"

"Because he's Luke."

"Okay, but like... why are you like this with him?"

Madi didn't answer and Val decided not to push.

"Night, Sher."

Luke stared at his phone. The message sat there on his screen in blue, taunting him.

Luke: We need to talk

He watched the three dots appear, then disappear. The read receipt popped up and that was that.

After a minute, he unsent it.

Then tossed his phone on his bed and yanked a hoodie on. By the time his feet hit the sidewalk, it was past midnight. But Luke didn't care, he just needed to clear his head.

It had been a long practice. Sprints on dead legs, hurdle drills that just felt like punishment. Her tank was soaked through by the end, her patience buried somewhere back at the start line.

She just wanted a protein bar, a hot shower, and to not think about Luke Hughes for five goddamn seconds.

So naturally, he was waiting outside the fieldhouse.

Madi's breath caught, then she tightened the straps of her backpack and kept walking, like maybe if she didn't break stride, he'd evaporate into the sidewalk.

No such luck.

"Sheridan."

She ignored him.

"Hey." His voice was closer now. "We need to talk."

She didn't slow down. "No, we don't."

"Madi--"

She stopped and turned around so fast it startled him.

He stepped back half a pace, but not enough.

"There's nothing to talk about," she said flatly. Final.

Luke looked at her like she'd just slapped him... which, to be fair, was still on the table.

"You kissed me like a joke," she went on. "And now what? You want a reaction? A conversation? You want to process it together like we're on some after-school special?"

His jaw tightened. "It wasn't a joke."

"Yeah? Could've fooled me." Her arms crossed over her chest, fists curling in her sleeves. "You didn't even say anything. Just ambushed me. Like you couldn't handle one more second of not being the centre of attention."

"That's not--"

"You don't get to do shit like that," she snapped, cutting him off. "Not when I've made it very clear that I'm not interested in playing your little golden boy games. You think you can just kiss whoever you want and walk away like you did something brave?"

Luke's face went blank. But his eyes were still lit. Still watching her like she was something he couldn't stop studying, even if it was tearing him apart.

She hated it.

Hated that he was listening. That he looked like he wanted to explain himself. That some part of her was still curious what he'd say if she let him talk.

So she didn't.

"Next time," she said, voice like frostbite, "find a puck to make out with. Maybe it'll be impressed."

He didn't move, didn't speak. Just stood there, stunned... blinking at her like she'd winded him.

Madi turned on her heel and walked away.

Maia was eating dry cereal out of a mug, legs tucked under her on the couch. Izzy was halfway asleep on the floor and Val was scrolling through her phone like she was getting paid to.

Madi stood by the kitchen, pretending to read something on the fridge that had been there since August.

"You good?" Maia asked casually, not looking up.

Madi shrugged.

"Gym looked brutal," Maia added.

"It was fine."

Maia didn't press, just let the silence hang for a minute. Then, as if out of nowhere: "So are we just not gonna talk about the fact that you and Luke are acting like you've got Cold War level beef and shared custody of a secret?"

Madi's spine went stiff

"I'm serious," Maia continued. "You don't even look at each other anymore. And you used to, like, actively hate each other. That was engagement. This is silence. This is, like, avoidance. It's weird."

Izzy looked up from the floor, bleary-eyed. "Something definitely happened."

Madi rolled her eyes and grabbed a water from the fridge. "It didn't mean anything."

Maia turned slowly. "So something did happen."

"I didn't say that."

"You just did."

"I said it didn't mean anything."

Maia stared at her.

"I don't care," Madi added.

Nothing.

No response. Just Maia's eyes, unblinking.

"You're such a liar," she said softly, getting a huff in return.

Beckett texted her two nights after run-in with Luke.

Been a minute. You still alive?

madi: barely

Beckett: Wanna come and not talk about it?

She didn't have to think twice about that. Just: omw

It was muscle memory. Beckett was easy, familiar. He was predictable in a way that didn't make her blood pressure spike. He never cornered her to talk about feelings or looked at her like she was a puzzle he had to solve in a time limit.

Beckett didn't make her feel nervous. In fact, he didn't really make her feel anything.

So she let him make her feel nothing.

The hookup was what it always was: casual, good, and forgettable the second it ended. No messy silence or fallout. Just a sleepy, low-commitment kiss on her shoulder before she pulled her hoodie on and left.

He texted again the next morning. Then again the day after that. They fell back into a rhythm, quick coffees, late-night couch makeouts, her name saved in his phone with a fire emoji.

She didn't call it anything. Didn't tell anyone either.

At least not until Maia cornered her in the kitchen and said, "You've been walking around with post-sex smugness for three days. Spill."

Madi blinked. "What are you even--"

"I know the difference between a protein shake glow and a 'someone just rocked my shit' glow," she said, grabbing a banana from the counter. "Don't play me."

Madi shrugged, trying to be casual. "It's not a thing."

"What's not a thing?"

Nothing.

Val walked in just in time to see the look on Maia's face and groaned. "Did she finally admit she's back on the Beckett train?"

Maia gasped like she'd won a game show. "I KNEW IT."

"It's not a train," Madi mumbled.

"It's a carousel," Izzy called from the other room. "Same scenery every time, but you're still dizzy."

"Girl's been getting the same dick for two years," Maia added. "Must be good."

Madi chucked a raspberry at her head. "It's consistent. That's all."

"Consistently what, though?" Val deadpanned.

That night, they were all crashed in the living room watching Pitch Perfect for the hundredth time when Val hit pause mid-song and said, "Real question."

"Again?"

"No," Madi shook her head.

"You don't even know what I was gonna ask!"

"You were gonna ask about Luke."

Maia sat up with scary speed. "Aha! Something happened!!"

Izzy raised a hand. "Wait. Shut up. No way. Are you telling me you and Luke like kissed?!"

Maia gasped so loud the neighbours probably heard it. "I knew it! I FUCKING TOLD YOU THAT ENERGY WASN'T PLATONIC!"

"WHEN?" Val demanded. "Where? What--how?"

Madi groaned and covered her face. "It was nothing. We were at the party. I made a stupid joke. He kissed me. That's it."

"That's it?" Maia shrieked! "You two have been dancing around each other like you're in a fucking made for tv drama and he just kissed you?"

"It was a mistake."

"His or yours?"

Madi didn't answer.

Maia leaned over and grabbed her face. "Tell me right now... was it hot?"

She stared at her, deadpan. "Disgusting."

"You're such a liar!"

"You're telling me you've been hooking up with Beckett post-kiss with Luke Hughes and you haven't gone fucking insane?!"

Maddi shoved her face in a throw pillow. "Goodnight."

"Admit it!" Maia cried.

"No!"

"Then say you'd never sleep with him!"

"I would never sleep with him."

The room went silent.

And then Izzy said, "You're so gonna sleep with him."

Luke saw them together outside the library.

It was 9:05 a.m., and he was walking back from class, earbuds in, half-distracted, when he saw Beckett's hand slide into Madi's back pocket like it belonged there.

She didn't shove him away.

They laughed about something and Beckett kissed her cheek. She leaned into it.

Luke walked faster.

At lift, he snapped at a freshman for dropping a dumbbell too loud. He showed up late to film, didn't speak to anyone except to curse when he missed something on the whiteboard.

Ethan pulled him aside after. "Dude. What the hell is going on?"

Luke just scowled.

The next time he saw Beckett, the soccer player was leaving the girls' house. It was early, sun still low. He had his hood up as he kissed Madi on the forehead before walking down the block back to wherever he lived.

Luke saw it from his car, parked a couple houses down.

He wasn't really supposed to be there. He had been dropping Nolan off to "see Maia." But when he saw the door open, he sat there like an idiot until the guy finally left and Madi went inside.

He was going to lose his fucking mind.

"You know what you're doing, right?" Val said, knocking her shoulder playfully against Madi's.

"What?"

"Hooking up with a guy who seems to actually want you," Val crossed her arms. "And pretending it's about him."

"Better than hooking up with a guy that doesn't."

"Madi..."

Madi's whole body buzzed with the afterglow of her last race. She'd PR'd in the 200, gold medal around her neck. Her coach had nearly cried, Maia had screamed herself hoarse.

Now her legs ached in a good way, her curls were slicked back with sweat and hairspray, and there was a cup of jungle juice in her hand that tasted like warm sprite and way too much vodka.

She was glowing and she knew it.

Maia kept grabbing her arm and yelling "fastest bitch ALIVE" while Val filmed it all for their group chat. Even Izzy was dancing. The hockey boys were scattered around, freshly showered from their own win earlier that afternoon. Spirits were high.

Except for Luke's.

He hadn't spoken to her all night. Hadn't even looked her way. Which was fine. Great, actually.

She didn't need him too.

Didn't care.

Didn't--

She saw him from across the room.

Ball cap backwards, black tee, leaning against the wall with a beer bottle in hand, watching with the quiet, brooding look he always had when he wasn't really in the conversation.

He looked good.

An hour later, she found herself alone in the kitchen. The noise was distant, muffled by the walls.

She leaned against the counter, sipping a new drink that was 90% tequila and 10% lime. Her medal clinked softly as she moved.

She felt a shift in the air before she even saw him.

Turned her head.

Luke.

"What?" she asked, taking a sip of her drink.

He shrugged. "Nothing."

She rolled her eyes and pushed off the counter. But as she moved to pass him, he reached out and caught her wrist.

"What're you doing?" she grimaced.

"You're not even mad at me," he said quietly. "You're mad you liked it."

She pursed her lips for a moment before kissing him, hard.

It was setting a match to dry grass. Instant, violent, and desperate.

His hand slid behind her neck, pulling her closer like he'd been starving. She pressed into him.

Their mouths collided. He tasted like whiskey and pure frustration. Her fingers tangled in his shirt, yanking him forward, needing him closer and hating herself for it.

They stumbled, bumped into the doorway, and laughed bitterly against each other's lips.

He backed them into the hall, half-blind, gripping her hip, walking them until they hit a door. She fumbled for the handle, shoved it open, and they tumbled inside.

It was a spare room, barely lit, with no else around.

The door clicked shut behind them but they didn't even make it to the bed.

His hands were under her sweatshirt, rough palms on smooth skin, while hers found the hem of his shirt and dragged it up over his head. He ducked down, lips on her neck, collarbone, biting just enough to make her gasp.

"Shut up," she whispered when he groaned "Don't talk."

He didn't.

He kissed her harder, knees hitting the floor. Her back hit the wall with a thud. They were both breathing like they'd just a finished a sprint.

Jeans shoved down, hoodie tossed somewhere, fingers tracing the waistband of her underwear like he was daring her to stop him.

She didn't. She wanted this. Needed it like air.

Her hand found the back of his neck, nails digging in as he moved. Their mouths met again, clumsy and hot, teeth knocking, hands everywhere.

His name slipped from her mouth.

She hated that but she didn't stop. He didn't either.

When it ended, they were both wrecked. Breathing like they'd run five miles uphill. The air was thick with sweat and something that felt close to honesty.

She didn't speak, just pulled her underwear back up, fixed her jeans, and grabbed her sweatshirt, not bothering to look at him.

"Don't think this means anything," she said.

Luke, still catching his breath, didn't meet her eyes either.

"I won't."

Both of them were lying.

He ghosted her.

Not literally. Not like he blocked her or changed his number or dropped off the grid. But Luke Hughes disappeared in the most infuriating way: he went quiet.

No texts. No looks. No glances. Nothing.

They were in the same friend group, for god's sake. Same house parties, same campus circles. He had no excuse to vanish like that.

But he did.

And Madi?

She was losing it.

Not outwardly, of course. Outwardly, she was fine.

She woke up early, went to practice, blew past everyone in sprints like her lungs didn't matter, hit the weight room twice a day, and took on extra sets just to punish her legs.

She was sharp in lectures, sharper with her friends, snapping over nothing.

Maia coughed too loud during Love Island? Madi tossed a pillow at her head.

Izzy finished the oat milk without replacing it? Madi wrote a passive aggressive sticky note.

Val looked at her wrong once and Madi stormed out of the room.

So... maybe she wasn't completely fine outwardly.

The worst part wasn't that Luke wasn't talking to her.

It was that he wasn't reacting to her.

Not even a side-eye.

At their next group hangout, she looked good and she knew it. Beckett was there, throwing his arm over her shoulders, whispering dumb things in her ear. She let him.

Luke didn't even blink.

Didn't roll his eyes, didn't mutter a single snide comment, just leaned back in his chair and scrolled through his phone like the room didn't include her at all.

Which pissed her off more than if he'd screamed.

"Spiralinggg," Val sang out.

"I'm not spiraling," Madi said, scooting over on her bed to make room for her best friend.

"You iced out Beckett for like two weeks and now you're hanging off him like he's made of nicotine patches."

"We're friends."

"You think he's boring."

"I-"

"Mads. Whatever happened with Luke, you don't have to pretend you're fine."

"I am fine," she said, too fast. "He's the one acting weird."

"He's not acting. He's just... done."

That hit harder than she thought it would.

That Friday, the group met up at a bonfire party hosted by some people on North Campus. It was chilly out and Madi wore her team jacket over a tiny tank top that barely held her boobs. She was halfway through her second glass of cheap wine. Beckett handed her another and she took it.

The girls hovered nearby, whispering.

Luke was there too. He didn't look at her.

He stood by the fire, quiet, arms crossed, hood up.

At some point, Maia nudged Madi. "He hasn't said a word all night."

"Who?" she asked, playing dumb.

"Don't."

Val added, "You know you could just talk to him."

"No thanks. I like being ignored. Super hot."

Izzy rolled her eyes. But just as she was about to speak, someone suggested a round of Kings.

People sat in a circle, legs tangled over blankets and beer cans. Madi sat on one side, Luke on the other.

He barely participated.

Beckett made her laugh once and she exaggerated how loud she was.

Luke stood up five minutes later and tossed his half-finished drink into the bushes.

"Dude, you good?" Ethan asked.

"Yeah. I'm out."

He didn't say goodbye.

Madi stared after him until someone asked her to pick a card. She didn't hear the question. She just felt... stupid.

She hadn't meant to tell them.

It was supposed to be a regular girls' night. Candles, sweats on, eating Thai in the living room while watching trashy reality TV. The normal.

But Maia had a certain look in her eyes.

And Val kept glancing at Madi like she was tracking her movements.

And Izzy had lowered the volume on the TV.

"Okay," Maia said, crawling down to the floor to be eye level with Madi. "What the actual fuck is going on with you?"

Madi looked up from her noodles. "What?"

Val leaned her chin onto her palm. "You're being extra weird. Like extra extra."

"I'm literally just eating Pad Thai."

"I think I've seen you take about two bites since we sat down."

"I'm focused on the show."

"Correction. You're focused on something in your head.

Madi stabbed at her food. "I'm. Fine."

Val snorted. "Sher. Come on."

She hated when they used her last name in moments like that.

She sighed. "Okay, maybe I'm not fine. But it's not a big deal."

Pause.

Madi looked down at her bowl, then set it aside.

"Luke and I..." she started, then stopped.

"You didn't."

Izzy practically dropper her chopsticks. "You did."

Maia just blinked. "When?"

"After the meet," Madi chewed on her bottom lip. "The party. We were alone. I don't know. We just... happened."

"Sooo," Val said slowly, "was it good?"

"Val," Madi hissed.

"What? I'm trying to gauge the emergency level."

"It was..." She ran her hand through her hair. "It was messy. An fast. And intense. And..."

Maia leaned forward. "And?"

Madi exhaled. I liked it."

Silence.

"I liked him." She stared at her hands. "And I hate that I liked him."

Maia was the first to speak. "You just hate not having the upper hand."

Izzy nodded. "Or he made you feel something and now you're freaking out."

Val tilted her head. "And now he's ghosting you."

"He's not ghosting me."

They all looked at her.

She groaned. "Okay, maybe he is. I don't know. He hasn't said anything. He hasn't looked at me. It's like he flipped a switch."

"So talk to him."

"No."

"Why?"

Madi shook her head. "Because then it becomes real, and I don't want it to be real."

Izzy leaned back, arms crossed. "Because if it's real, it can hurt you."

No one said anything for a moment.

Then, quietly, Madi added, "I don't want to get hurt."

But she already was.

She made it clear what it meant.

That's what Luke told himself. Every morning. Every second he found her across the quad like reflex he couldn't seem to shake.

She made it clear.

It was just a hookup. Just a mistake. Somethig she wanted to forget.

So he let her.

He'd gone quiet before, sure. But this time was different.

This wasn't about ego or being mad. This wasn't about giving her the silent treatment to see if she'd crack first.

This was about survival.

Because if he kept looking at her the way he wanted to? If he let himself hope?

It would ruin him.

So he pulled back. All the way.

He stopped sitting across from her when the group was together. He skipped certain hangouts he knew she'd be at. He unfollowed Beckett on Instagram, then blocked him, and then unblocked him like a coward.

He shut down the part of him that cared.

Or at least he tried to.

But she was everywhere.

She was in the gym, muttering about how they were out of frozen strawberries. She was at the crosswalk outside his lecture, bouncing on her heels while waiting for the light. She was on the track, numbers posted on the athletic board like a punch to the chest. 200m: M. Sheridan. 23.02.

Her name haunted him. Her voice echoed. Her laugh hit him like a bullet every time he heard it.

It didn't help that the guys noticed.

Ethan had cornered him. "What's your problem now?"

"I'm tired."

"No, you're not. This isn't tired Luke. This is like full criptic mode Luke. Is this about Madi?"

Luke didn't respond.

"So it's about Madi."

Nolan had walked over to them, clapping Ethan on the shoulder. "You good?"

Luke shrugged. "She wins. I'm done."

Neither of them asked what that meant.

They just nodded.

It was Thursday, Luke had just finished practice, shirt still damp, headphones in. He walked into the rec centre, hoping the gym would be empty.

It wasn't.

Madi was there.

Leg press. Ponytail. Bike shorts.

He thought her could feel her before he saw her.

He should've turned around. Left. Come back later.

He didn't. He kept walking. Straight past her.

He didn't glance, didn't slow, just walked by like she didn't exist.

Her head turned, just slightly. Enough for him to catch it in his periphery.

She said nothing.

But when he looked back, just for a split second, her hands were still on the machine, unmoving.

Like she'd frozen.

Like it hurt.

He turned back around and kept on walking.

It wasn't about Luke.

That's what she told herself when she opened the door at midnight, hair damp from her shower, hoodie zipped up all the way.

Beckett stood there in a backwards hat and that dumb grin that used to do something for her.

Used to.

"Hey, Sher," he said warmly.

She didn't cringe or roll her eyes, just stepped aside and let him in.

It wasn't about Luke.

Beckett didn't look at her the way Luke did. He didn't kiss her like it was a dare. He didn't make her feel like the floor had disappeared under her feet.

He was routine. Safe.

She didn't have to think.

They didn't talk much. He didn't ask questions, just leaned against her headboard like he belonged there.

He rolled onto his side and tugged at the blanket after.

"You want me to stay?" he asked, not pushing, just casually.

She hesitated but ultimately nodded. "Yeah, it's fine."

But when he reached for her, she shifted onto her side, back to him, pretending to scroll through Instagram.

There was a full six inches between them the whole night.

And she didn't sleep.

Luke saw him leave.

He really hadn't meant to.

It was a morning walk, something he'd started doing just to clear his head before classes, music on.

He turned the corner past the girls' house, not thinking, not expecting...

And there he was.

Beckett.

Walking down the steps, shirt wrinkled, hoodie slung over his shoulder.

Beckett didn't see him.

But Luke saw everything.

The way he adjusted his snapback, the satisfied smirk, the relaxed saunter down the sidewalk.

Luke didn't flinch or scowl, he just kept walking all the way to the rink and straight into the worst practice of his season.

He missed passes, line changes. He was late to warmups and didn't say a word unless someone asked directly. And even then, it came out clipped.

At one point, his coach had barked, "Are you even awake, Hughes?"

Luke just nodded.

Ethan tried to talk to him about it again.

"Alright, what the fuck is up?"

"I'm fine."

"No, you're not. You haven't been fine since the track party. And now you're showing up late, looking like you haven't slept in a month?"

Luke shrugged.

"Whatever happened with Madi..."

That did it. Luke looked up, sharp.

Ethan continued. "I'm not saying fix it. I'm saying get your fucking head on straight."

Luke exhaled through his nose. Then, after a beat, he said, "I don't think she wants me to."

Madi saw him sitting in the corner of the little cafeteria in the gym building. He was sat with his headphones on, hat pulled low, stirring something into his coffee, jaw tense.

And somthing in her cracked.

Maybe it was the fact that he hadn't looked at her in two weeks. Maybe it was the way he acted like everything didn't happen. Maybe it was just that she missed him.

But whatever the reason was, she walked right up to his table.

He didn't look up.

"That the new thing now?" she asked. "Pretending I don't exist?"

Luke blinked slowly, pulling out an airpod.

"Hi, Madi," he said flatly.

She tilted her head. "Wow. A greeting. Progress."

"What do you want?"

She crossed her arms. "Nothing. Just checking to see if you're still sulking."

"I'm fine."

"You're always 'fine.'"

Luke stood, grabbing his coffee. "I'm not doing this here."

She stepped in his way.

"Of course you're not. Because that would involve dealing with something instead of running away from it."

He stiffened.

Madi smirked. "What? Too close to home?"

Luke didn't respond.

And she wasn't done.

"You know what's funny? For someone who acts like he's so above it all, you're actually the most dramatic person I know."

Still nothing.

So she said it.

The line she knew would cut.

"Maybe you should go back to being your brothers' shadow. At least then people will like you."

That did it.

His eyes snapped to her.

And finally, finally, he let loose.

"You act like you're too good to feel anything," he snapped. "But you do. You just hate that it's me."

Silence.

Madi didn't speak.

Didn't blink.

She just stood there, the wind knocked out of her, all her armour suddenly weightless.

She didn't deny it. Didn't throw something else back.

She just walked away.

Their next conversation was quiet.

No yelling, no pointed jabs.

Madi sat on the bottom row of the empty stands beside the track, elbows on her knees, chin in her hands. The sun was setting, castling a golden glow across the rubber lanes. She could hear her teammates laughing on their way back to the showers.

Luke didn't say anything when he walked up, just dropped his bag and sat two feet away.

Neither of them moved for a good five minutes.

"You weren't supposed to matter," Madi said finally.

It wasn't as bitter as he'd expected.

Just honest. Raw.

He exhaled. "You weren't supposed to matter either."

Her fingers fidgeted with the fraying edge of her sleeve.

His hands stayed clenched between his knees.

Neither of them moved closer or reached out.

But something had softened.

Finally, she spoke again. "I don't know what this is."

Luke didn't even look at her.

"Then figure it out," he said quietly. "I'll be here if you do."

She looked down at her shoes.

She didn't nod or run.

Just sat there.

With him.

And for once, she didn't want to punch him in the face.

Game night wasn't dramatic-loud for once. Not fight-loud. Just normal, pre-finals, everyone's-burnt-out-and-living-off-caffeine-loud.

Cards scattered the coffee table, chips in a bowl, Mark yelling at Ethan over a rule he absolutely made up. Luca had put on a playlist that sucked but nobody could be bothered to change.

Madi walked down from her room like she hadn't spent the last half hour trying to decide if she should come down or not.

Iced coffee in hand, track hoodie half-zipped, hair braided. She was trying to give the illusion of being calm.

The other girls had already been down there.

And so had Luke.

He was sunk into the left corner of the couch, hands behind his head like always. He looked up at her when she walked in.

She didn't hesitate or hover. Didn't wait for him to ask.

She just walked over and sat... right in his lap.

Luke didn't flinch or blink. He adjusted slightly, one arm coming to rest casually around her waist like it was nothing new.

Because it wasn't. Not anymore.

The room went still.

Maia's eyes here huge. Val's jaw actually dropped. Rutger looked between the two of them like he was waiting for the punchline.

Mark shook his head, "So... you two finally fucked and made up?"

Madi took a sip of her coffee, deadpan, "That's a bold assumption."

Izzy smirked, "So not a denial."

"Not a confirmation either."

Val cocked a brow. "Madi."

Luke said nothing. He kept his arm where it was, fingers lazy against the hem of her jacket, a little smirk pulling at the corner of his lips.

Maia leaned forward dramatically. "I just wanna thank god and Luke's actions for this moment."

They played some dumb game Luca had invented halfway through a game night a couple months before. Something with timers and too many cheating accusations to actually work.

Madi usually hated it.

Tonight, it was fine.

Better than fine.

Luke kept murmuring shit in her ear just loud enough to get her to elbow him in the ribs.

She stole food from his plate and he let her.

The thing was?

It wasn't performative. Wasn't about proving anything to anyone. They weren't making a scene.

They were comfortable. Real.

Finally.

Izzy raised her glass. "A toast to these two getting their shit together."

"I hate you," Madi muttered.

They weren't perfect. There were still sharp edges, still things unsaid. Still days where she wanted to punch him for looking at her for too long and days he wanted to shake her until she understood it wasn't a joke to him.

But they were trying. And that felt... good.

Real.

#nhl imagine #nhl fic #hockey imagine #hockey fic #luke hughes #luke hughes imagine

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aliyahwritings · 7 months ago

Text

THE CONTRACTED HEART — Rafe Cameron (09)

MASTERLIST | Basketball Player & Model!Female Reader

Summary: Rafe Cameron, a basketball star, needs a marriage to fix his image, while Model!Reader needs one for citizenship. They may be the perfect solution for each other.

Warnings: smut, descriptions of violence, jealousy, usage of drugs, talks about body image/ed, angst, and lots of bickering. Reader is confident, a people-pleaser, has a traumatic past, and is a sunshine with an attitude. Rafe is a whore, possessive, cocky, and secretive about his past.

Word Count: 4.7k

Aliyah's Notes: y'all are getting fed cause this chapter and the next one are gonna be cute asf so enjoy :)

Three days before the engagement party felt like an endless marathon, with every hour packed to the brim with decisions and errands. The morning started early—too early for your liking—as Aisha and Nina practically dragged you out of bed.

Nina, ever the “mom” of the group, had already prepared an itinerary. She stood in the kitchen, arms crossed, her phone in hand, while you slumped in a chair, still clinging to the remnants of sleep. “Alright, ladies,” Nina began, her tone brisk, “we’ve got a packed schedule. Venue first, then flowers, then caterers. We’ll fit in the designer appointment after lunch, assuming someone,” her eyes flicked pointedly toward you, “doesn’t take forever to make decisions.”

Aisha smirked, sipping her coffee as she leaned against the counter. “You know she’ll take forever. She was debating the color of napkins for twenty minutes for her birthday party.”

“Because they matter!” you protested, sitting up straighter, your natural energy kicking in. “The wrong napkin can throw off the entire table aesthetic. Imagine gold chargers with plain white napkins—horrible!”

Aisha groaned dramatically, while Nina pinched the bridge of her nose. “God give me strength,” Nina muttered in Tagalog under her breath before clapping her hands. “Alright, let’s move. The decorator is expecting us in twenty minutes, and I’m not letting us be late.”

The three of you piled into Nina’s car, and the drive to the venue was filled with your endless chatter. You couldn’t help yourself; you were excited. Ever since your night at Rafe’s, you’ve been walking around with a weight lift off your shoulders, and a smile on your face. “Okay, but seriously, do you think white and gold is too basic? Should I add a pop of color? Like blush pink? Or emerald green! Oh, that could be so chic—”

“Breathe, Miss. Yapper,” Aisha interrupted, shooting you a look from the front seat. “You’ve already settled on white and gold. Don’t backtrack now.”

“She’s just overthinking again,” Nina said from the driver’s seat, her voice calm but firm. “You always do this, sweetie. Just trust your instincts. They’re good… most of the time.”

“Most of the time?!” you repeated, feigning offense.

“Girl, you’re the one who almost ordered heart-shaped balloons for your ex’s retirement party,” your best friend deadpanned.

“He always complained about his job, alright! I thought he was happy to retire.”

The two of them burst into laughter, and you couldn’t help but join in. They always knew how to make you laugh, even when your perfectionism threatened to take over.

When you arrived at the venue, the decorator was already waiting, surrounded by samples of linens, centerpieces, and lighting options. The grand ballroom looked beautiful even in its unfinished state, with its high ceilings and floor-to-ceiling windows letting in streams of sunlight. But you could already see a million tiny things that needed to be fixed or adjusted.

Nina took charge of logistics, confirming delivery times and setups with the decorator, while Aisha kept you in check. Every time you tried to change something—a table arrangement here, a floral display there—Aisha would cross her arms and give you a warning glare.

“Focus, Y/N. You’re going to drive this poor decorator insane,” Aisha muttered as you debated, for the third time, whether the table runners should have a satin or matte finish.

“It’s not insane to want things to be perfect,” you argued, though your voice was tinged with doubt.

“It’s insane when you’re deciding between two things that look exactly the same,” Aisha countered.

“Pale beige and normal beige are completely different—”

Nina swooped in to mediate, her tone soothing. “Look, kids, both options are gorgeous. Y/N, pick one and move on. We still have three more stops today.”

You sighed, finally nodding and pointing to the matte finish. The decorator gave you a grateful smile, and you moved on to the next decision.

By the time you left the venue, your head was spinning, but there was no time to slow down. The next stop was the florist, where the three of you pored over bouquets and arrangements.

“Peonies are elegant, but are they too soft for the theme?” you mused aloud, holding up a sample.

“Peonies are fine,” Nina assured you, already checking her phone for the next appointment.

“Roses are boring,” Aisha chimed in, inspecting a cluster of orchids. “But these could work. They’re dramatic. Like you.”

You stuck your tongue out at her, earning a rare laugh from Nina. “She’s not wrong,” Nina said with a small smile.

The florist walked you through the arrangements, but your perfectionism struck again. You wanted everything to complement the aesthetic without feeling overdone. Nina stepped in when she sensed you starting to spiral.

“Y/N, just pick a theme and stick with it,” she said gently but firmly. “You can’t have every flower in the world at your party. Less is more.”

Aisha nodded in agreement. “Listen to her. She’s right. For once.”

Nina rolled her eyes but didn’t dignify the comment with a response.

Eventually, you settled on a mix of peonies, orchids, and eucalyptus, feeling a little more confident as you left the florist.

Lunch was a quick stop at a café, where you barely had time to scarf down a sandwich before heading to your next appointment. The designer fitting was a whirlwind of fabrics, sequins, and pins, with you trying on dress after dress while Nina and Aisha offered their unfiltered opinions.

By the end of the day, you were utterly spent. You stumbled through the door of your apartment, exhaustion hit you like a ton of bricks. You kicked off your heels, letting them clatter onto the floor, and flopped onto the couch with a moan. Your feet ached, your head was pounding, and the thought of the work you have for tomorrow made you want to cry.

Just as you were debating whether to order takeout or crawl into bed and call it a night. Your phone buzzed—-your new phone that you bought yesterday after losing your original one and your keys at the charity event—-on the coffee table. You reached for it, squinting at the screen.

Rafe: “Longest. Day. Ever.”

A small smile tugged at your lips despite your fatigue. You propped yourself up against the armrest and typed back.

You: “Tell me about it. I’m so dead! Who knew choosing flowers could feel like a full-body workout?”

His response came almost immediately.

Rafe: “Yeah? Well, at least you didn’t have to run for AN HOUR!!! My legs feel like they’re about to give up on me.”

You: “Poor baby. Want me to send you a trophy for Most Exhausted Future Fiancé-to-Be?”

Rafe: “Ha. Ha. So funny.”

Rafe: “Are you sure we’re not married yet? You already sound like a nagging wife.”

The audacity of him made you chuckle and roll your eyes. You typed quickly, unable to help yourself.

You: “Excuse you? If I’m a nagging wife, then you’re a whiny husband.”

Rafe: “Whatever you say, nagging wife.”

You let out a quiet laugh, shaking your head as you sank further into the couch. The teasing back-and-forth was an oddly comforting way to unwind after such a chaotic day.

You: “Seriously though, did you at least eat? Or are you surviving off your ego again?”

Rafe: “Does a protein bar and water count?”

You groaned audibly, your fingers flying across the screen.

You: “No, Rafe. A protein bar and water do NOT count. A protein bar is not food; it’s a snack. Please tell me you’ve got something decent in your fridge.”

Rafe: “Define ‘decent’…”

You: “I’m going to kill you.”

Rafe: “That’s very romantic, baby, but you’re avoiding the question. What’s the verdict? Is my fridge decent enough for you, Your Honor?”

You: “No.”

You: “Knowing you, it’s probably full of water bottles, expired vegetables, and mystery leftovers. Am I wrong?”

Rafe: “I don’t like this attack on my character.”

You: “Answer the question, Cameron.”

Rafe: “Fine. Maybe you’re right. I don’t have the energy to argue. Or to cook, for that matter.”

You sighed again, a twinge of concern sneaking past your teasing. You guessed he pushed himself hard during training, but the least he could do was take care of himself after.

You: “Alright, what do you feel like eating? I’ll bring you something.”

Rafe: “What? No. You just spent all day running around. You don’t have to do that.”

You: “Too late. I offered, and I’m not taking it back. So, what’ll it be?”

Rafe: “...You’re really doing this, huh?”

You: “Absolutely.”

Rafe: “Fine. Surprise me. Just nothing too fancy. I’m starving.”

You: “Got it. Be there in an hour.”

Rafe: “Angel.”

Shaking your head, you pocketed your phone and headed to the kitchen. After a quick assessment of what you had on hand, you decided on a simple but satisfying dish: chicken biryani.

Cooking helped you relax after the chaotic day. The process of measuring spices, chopping onions, and stirring the pot grounded you, your mind focused on creating something warm and filling. By the time the dish was done, the air was fragrant with the scent of saffron, cardamom, and cloves.

You packed the biryani into a container, added a side of pudding kheer for balance, and grabbed some naan for good measure. After a quick freshen-up, you were on your way to Rafe’s penthouse.

When he opened the door, the sight of him hit you like a punch to the gut. Rafe stood there in low-hanging sweatpants that clung to his hips, no shirt in sight, leaving every inch of his toned chest and sculpted abs on full display. His damp hair was a tousled mess, drops of water clinging to his skin, catching the light as they slid down the defined lines of his torso. He leaned casually against the doorframe, his gaze raking over you with a mix of cocky amusement and exhaustion. The lazy grin tugging at his lips was enough to make your pulse stutter—and the way his voice dipped, low and teasing, when he finally spoke didn’t help.

“Well, well,” he drawled. “Look who showed up. My nagging wife bearing gifts.”

You rolled your eyes, forcing yourself to focus on the container in your hands instead of his sexy, very sexy abs. “You want dinner or not, Cameron? ‘Cause I can take it back?”

He instantly straightened up. “Come in, Your Honor,” he stepped aside to let you in, his grin widening when he saw the bag in your hand.

The penthouse was dimly lit, the warm glow of the city skyline visible through the floor-to-ceiling windows. You set the food on the kitchen island, trying to ignore the way he was watching you with that infuriating smirk.

You looked at your attire, and rolled your eyes. “Stop staring at my ass and grab plates,” you ordered, sounding stern.

“Yes, ma’am,” he said, clearly amused, but he obeyed.

The two of you sat at the island, the meal between you. You put your hair in a bun, and said; “So, this is chicken biryani—” you pointed to it. “—and this is kheer and some naan.”

“This looks amazing, Y/N,” he let out a groan of appreciation.

You blushed at the compliment. “Thank you. You ever had Asian food before?”

“I had sushi and ramen with my team—”

You chuckled. “I meant South Asian food, Rafe.”

“Oh. South Asian…”

“Yeah,” you nodded. “You know, Indian, Sri Lankan, Pakistani, etc… Did you?”

He shook his head. “I don’t remember. I eat basic white man food, to be honest.”

“I realized,” you laughed. “Well, eat well.”

Rafe took his first bite, and his eyes widened. “Yo! This is delicious, what the fuck?”

You smiled, watching as he devoured the food like he hadn’t eaten in days. “Told you protein bars wouldn’t cut it—”

“You’re not going to eat?”

“I already ate,” you lied.

“Bullshit,” he said, giving you a pointed look. “Have some with me. I don’t like eating alone.”

You hesitated for a moment before giving in, grabbing a fork and joining him. The two of you ate in companionable silence, the tension of the day melting away with each bite.

For a brief moment, it didn’t feel like you were preparing for an engagement party or navigating the complicated arrangement that had brought you together. It felt easy, natural—like something that didn’t require overthinking.

You stood at the sink, sleeves rolled up, rinsing off the plates and containers. Warm water rushed over your hands as you scrubbed away the remnants of biryani and naan. The scent of spices lingered in the air, a comforting reminder of the meal you’d shared. Behind you, Rafe leaned against the counter, his tall frame relaxed but his eyes fixed on you.

“You know,” he said, his voice cutting through the quiet hum of the faucet, “you really don’t have to do this.”

“You’ve said that already,” you replied without turning around, focusing instead on rinsing the plate in your hand.

“Because I mean it. I can clean tomorrow,” he quipped, folding his arms across his bare chest.

A chuckle escaped you, and you tossed him a look over your shoulder. “Some of us were raised to clean up immediately after eating. It’s a brown girl thing—no one leaves the kitchen messy in my house.”

Rafe raised an eyebrow, his lips curving into a smirk. “Ah, so it’s cultural?”

“Hell yeah,” you replied, turning back to the sink. “If my mom ever caught me walking away from a pile of dishes, I wouldn’t live to see another day.”

“Sounds intense,” he teased, though his tone was laced with curiosity.

“You’re just white,” you shot back, and he laughed. “But also… I kind of like it,” you admitted, your voice softer now. “It feels wrong to leave things undone. Like you’re disrespecting the meal or something.”

Rafe was quiet for a moment, and you could feel his gaze lingering on you, not with judgment but something that felt closer to admiration.

“You’re kind of incredible, you know that?” he said finally.

You blinked, caught off guard. “For doing the dishes? Your standards are low, Cameron.”

He laughed, the sound deep and genuine. “No, I mean… just in general. You don’t have to cook for me or clean up after me, but you do it anyway. And you don’t even make a big deal out of it. You’re just… thoughtful.”

His words made you pause, your hands still under the running water. For a man who often masked his feelings behind sarcasm and cockiness, the sincerity in his voice hit you harder than you expected.

“Well,” you said, trying to keep your tone light, “don’t get used to it. Just because I cleaned your kitchen tonight doesn’t mean I’m signing up to do it forever.”

Rafe grinned, stepping closer. “Noted. One-time deal.”

You rolled your eyes, shaking your head as you shut off the faucet and reached for the dish towel. “Besides, I wasn’t cleaning for you. I was cleaning for my own peace of mind.”

“Still,” he said, his voice dropping slightly, “thanks. For all of it.”

You glanced over at him, caught off guard again by the softness in his tone. The cocky grin he usually wore was replaced by something more subdued, more genuine. It made your chest tighten in a way you weren’t ready to think about.

“It’s not a big deal,” you said, your voice quieter now. “Just food and a few dishes.”

“To you, maybe,” he said, leaning against the counter beside you. “But it’s been a while since anyone’s done something like this for me. I don’t even know the last time I had an actual home-cooked meal.”

That admission tugged at something deep inside you, a mix of sympathy and affection you weren’t quite prepared for. You focused on folding the towel in your hands, hoping he wouldn’t notice the way your cheeks warmed.

“Well, someone has to make sure you don’t live off protein bars and bad decisions,” you said lightly, trying to steer the conversation back into familiar territory.

Rafe chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Guess I should count myself lucky it’s you.”

Your eyes flicked up to his, and for a moment, you forgot how to respond. The way he was looking at you—soft, unguarded, and almost reverent—made your heart skip a beat.

“Alright, stop,” you said, breaking the moment and brushing past him toward the counter. “You’re making it weird.”

“Making what weird?” he asked, following you with an amused grin.

“Everything,” you shot back, grabbing your bag. “And don’t think I didn’t notice you slacking off while I did all the work. Next time, you’re cleaning.”

“Deal,” he said, holding up his hands in mock surrender. “As long as there’s a next time.”

You hesitated at the door, looking back at him. His smirk was still there, but so was that softness in his eyes, the one that made it hard to look away. Bag slung over your shoulder and shoes slipped back on, ready to leave Rafe’s penthouse and head home for what was left of the night. The day had drained you, and though the quiet domestic moment you’d just shared with him was nice—unexpectedly so—you still needed to recharge for tomorrow’s chaos.

“You don’t have to leave yet,” he said, almost too casually, as if trying to disguise the sincerity in his tone.

You paused, glancing back at him. “Rafe, it’s late. I’m exhausted. You’re exhausted. We both need sleep.”

He shrugged, his mouth curling into that boyish grin that usually meant trouble. “So? Five more minutes won’t hurt. Sit down, relax. You’ve been running around all day.”

You narrowed your eyes at him but relented, curiosity getting the better of you. “Fine. Five minutes,” you muttered, dropping your bag onto the floor again and heading to the couch.

Rafe followed you, sitting on the other end of the couch, though he shifted closer. His arm rested along the backrest, his entire posture relaxed in a way that only made you more aware of him.

“So,” he began, his tone lighter now, “what did you actually do today? Besides fighting with tablecloths and flowers, I mean.”

You groaned, leaning back into the cushions. “It feels like that’s all I did. The decorators kept bringing me options that were either too tacky or too plain. And don’t even get me started on the florists. Nina kept trying to keep me on schedule, Aisha rolled her eyes at every single arrangement, and I was stuck in the middle.”

His laugh was low and warm. “Sounds like a nightmare.”

“It was,” you said, though there was a faint smile tugging at your lips now. “But somehow, it’s all starting to come together. Slowly. Painfully. I think we’re making progress.”

He tilted his head, watching you with that quiet intensity he always seemed to have when you weren’t paying attention. “You really care about this party, huh?”

You hesitated, the weight of his gaze making it harder to brush off the question. “Yeah, I guess I do,” you admitted softly. “I mean, if we don’t make it believable then I’d have to go back to my country, and I can’t let that happen.”

Rafe was silent for a moment, his eyes never leaving yours. The soft light in the room cast shadows across his face, making him look more vulnerable, less guarded than usual.

“You’re putting so much thought into it,” he said finally, his voice quieter now. “More than anyone else would, I think.”

You shrugged, your gaze dropping to your hands. “Just doing what needs to be done. Nothing special.”

“It is special,” he said, his tone firm but gentle.

The sincerity in his voice made your chest tighten. You glanced up at him, meeting his gaze for a moment that felt like it stretched on forever. There was something unspoken in his expression, something soft and unfamiliar that made your heart stutter.

“Okay, your turn,” you said quickly, needing to break the tension. “What did you do today, besides run yourself into the ground?”

His smirk returned, though it didn’t quite reach his eyes. “Practice, drills, meetings. The usual.”

“You make it sound so thrilling,” you teased, crossing your arms.

“Oh, it’s a blast,” he said with mock enthusiasm. “Nothing like running suicides and lifting until your arms feel like they’re gonna fall off. And then sitting in a room listening to people tell you how to market yourself better.”

“Sounds glamorous,” you said, leaning back into the couch with a small laugh.

Rafe chuckled, his gaze softening as he watched you. “It’s not. But then again, you make flower arrangements sound like boot camp, so I guess we’re even.”

You smiled, letting the comfortable quiet settle between you for a moment. The hum of the city outside was faint but constant, a reminder of how late it had gotten.

“I should really go,” you said, breaking the silence and sitting up.

Rafe’s hand reached out, brushing against yours as he spoke. “You don’t have to.”

The softness in his voice caught you off guard, and for a moment, you stayed still, his fingers lingering near yours. The space between you suddenly felt smaller, charged with something neither of you were ready to name.

“Rafe,” you said gently, pulling your hand back, though your voice betrayed your hesitation.

“Stay a little longer,” he said, his eyes searching for yours. “This is… nice. Just sitting here. Talking.”

Your heart thudded in your chest at his words, and you looked away, pretending to straighten your bag. “I can’t. I’ve got another long day tomorrow, and so do you.”

He sighed but didn’t argue, leaning back into the couch. “Alright. But you owe me another five minutes next time.”

You laughed softly, shaking your head as you stood. “Sure, Cameron. I’ll pencil it into my busy schedule.”

He followed you to the door again, his presence warm and steady behind you. As you stepped into the hallway, you glanced back at him, your smile softer now.

As you moved toward the door, your bag slung over your shoulder, Rafe trailed behind you, his hands tucked casually into the pockets of his sweatpants. The quiet between you was comfortable, a marked contrast to the constant noise of the day. Just as you reached for the handle, his voice broke the silence.

“So… my dad called today,” he said, his tone light but deliberate.

You paused, turning slightly to glance at him, curiosity flickering in your expression. “Oh? What about?”

Rafe leaned against the frame, his posture deceptively relaxed. “He wanted to ask about you.”

The corners of your mouth lifted in a faint smirk. “Me? Why? Should I be flattered or scared?”

He chuckled, though it came with a hint of exasperation. “Because you’re about to be my wife, and you should definitely be flattered. He’s been… curious, I guess. You’re kind of a hot topic at the moment.”

Your brow furrowed as you adjusted the strap of your bag. “What do you mean?”

Rafe shrugged, though his eyes flickered to yours briefly before looking away. “He’s been asking when he and Rose can meet you. Sarah’s been on my case about it too. She wants to meet you again. It’s like they’re more excited about this whole engagement thing than I am.”

There was an edge to his words, not quite bitterness but something close to it, and you stepped back from the door slightly, your curiosity deepening. “Is that… a bad thing?”

“No, it’s not bad,” he said quickly, though his jaw tightened ever so slightly. “It’s just… predictable. My dad’s all about appearances, and this engagement makes us look good. You make me look good.”

His words were meant to sound casual, but the weight beneath them was unmistakable. You softened your tone as you leaned against the couch. “Rafe, if you’re not comfortable with all this, you can tell me. I’m not going to—”

“It’s not that,” he interrupted, shaking his head. “It’s just… complicated.”

You tilted your head, watching him carefully. “How so?”

He hesitated, running a hand through his hair in frustration. “My family has this way of… making everything feel like a performance. You know? Like, they’re not just happy about this engagement because it’s a good thing for me. They’re happy because it’s a good thing for them. My dad’s already talking about how it’ll ‘strengthen the Cameron name,’ and Rose keeps mentioning how much she ‘adores your poise.’”

You blinked at him, momentarily caught off guard. “Wait, your step-mother said that? About me?”

He laughed lightly, nodding. “Yeah. I think she’s obsessed with you already.”

You couldn’t help the small laugh that escaped you. “Wow. And here I thought winning over your dad would be the hard part.”

“Oh, don’t worry. He’ll grill you like a steak the second he gets a chance,” Rafe said, his tone teasing but his smile tinged with something softer. “He doesn’t trust anyone, especially not when it comes to me.”

You frowned at that, your arms crossing instinctively. “Why not? You’re… I mean, you’re his son. Shouldn’t he trust you the most?”

Rafe’s smile faltered for a split second before he masked it with another shrug. “Let’s just say my track record isn’t exactly spotless. And my dad… he’s always been more interested in results than reasons. This marriage? It’s a result he likes. That’s all.”

The raw honesty in his words caught you off guard, and for a moment, you didn’t know how to respond. Finally, you stepped closer, your voice quieter now. “Rafe, if this is too much—if your family’s involvement is making it harder—I can talk to them. Set boundaries or whatever.”

He shook his head, his eyes meeting yours. “You don’t have to do that. It’s not your problem to fix.”

“Maybe not,” you said, your gaze unwavering, “but it’s my problem now too.”

“Such a good wife already,” he caressed your cheeks softly, the corner of his mouth twitched, his smirk returning faintly. “You’re really taking this whole ‘teamwork’ thing seriously, huh?”

“I’m a perfectionist,” you replied, matching his tone. “Can’t help it.”

He chuckled, the tension in his shoulders easing slightly. “You’re too good at this, you know. My family’s already halfway in love with you, and you haven’t even met them yet.”

“Maybe I should be worried,” you teased, though there was a softness in your voice now.

“Don’t be,” he said, his tone quieter as he let his hand down your face. “If anything, they’re the ones who should be worried. You’re gonna walk in there, charm everyone without even trying, and leave me to deal with their unrealistic expectations.”

You laughed, the sound light and genuine, and Rafe found himself leaning just a little closer, caught up in the warmth of the moment.

“Well, if they’re anything like you,” you said, your voice still tinged with amusement, “I’m sure I’ll survive.”

Rafe’s smirk faltered for a moment, replaced by something softer, something you couldn’t quite name. “They’re nothing like me,” he said quietly, almost to himself.

The words hung in the air, and for a moment, neither of you moved. His gaze lingered on yours, steady and unguarded in a way that made your breath catch.

“Rafe…” you began, your voice trailing off as his expression shifted ever so slightly, something unreadable flickering across his face.

But just as quickly as the moment had come, it passed. He straightened, his usual smirk slipping back into place like a mask. “You should probably get some rest,” he said, his tone lighter now. “You’ve got a big day tomorrow.”

You blinked, startled by the sudden shift, but nodded. “Yeah. You too.”

He followed you to the door, his presence steady behind you as you stepped into the hallway. As you turned back to glance at him one last time, his expression softened again, his blue eyes holding yours for a beat longer than necessary.

“Goodnight, Y/N,” he said, his voice quieter now.

“Goodnight, Rafe,” you replied, your chest tightening slightly as you walked away, the weight of his gaze following you long after you’d gone.

chapter ten

707 notes · View notes

angelltheninth · 10 days ago

Note

Can you do the first Grumpy x Sunishine prompt with Kenji Sato?

That's a very good relationship dynamic. Not my absolute favorite but definitely up there.

Pairing: Kenji "Ken" Sato x Fem!Reader

Tags: fluff, roommates, domestic fluff, grumpy x sunshine, cheek kisses, being overworked, not actually unrequited feelings, Kenji Sato is bad at feelings

Prompt: Roommates from Opposite Vibes... One’s all color-coded calendars and 7AM smoothies. The other hasn’t done laundry in three weeks and growls before coffee. They clash. But one rainy day, the sunshine one leaves soup on the grump’s desk with a dumb little smiley note. It breaks them. - List

Ko-Fi | Rules | Fandoms and Characters | Commissions

A/N: Got my friend to watch this. Now she's in love with him just as much as I am.

The mismatched clothes, the strict schedule, the sleeping in, the uniforms, the countless hours you both spent taking care of Emi in shifts, during the day, at night, and yet you and Kenji didn't quite get along. You tried to get him out of his grumpy shell ever since the two of you started living together. A good few months now, you knew each other for years though, and were always opposites.

It took you both very long to get comfortable with each other, then Emi was introduced into the mix. Kenji already wasn't sleeping well despite your protests and now he was getting even less, again despite you telling him that you could take care of Emi too.

Stubborn as always he only accepted help when he was literally falling asleep on his feet. Or at his desk, as was the case this rainy night.

You looked for him in Emi's room, the training room, the living room, he was nowhere to be found. That only left his room. As you slowly opened the door you had half the mind to scold him. He was passed out at the desk, Emi sitting close to him, holding his hand.

"This is the third time this week, Kenji." You still scolded him, while whispering. Emi noticed you approaching and smiled at you, energetically waving at you. Her kaiju eyes honed in on the colorful cup of warm tea in your hand. "I made this for your dad but as usual he's overworked himself again. Maybe you should tell him to go to sleep, bet he'd listen to you." You walked over on your tiptoes, careful not to wake Ken up.

Slowly and gently you set the warm cup at his desk, and then even slower and gentler picked Emi up from the desk. She made a noise of surprise before giggling and nuzzling her head against you.

"You need some sleep too, kid. How else are you gonna grow up into a big, awesome Kaiju? Up you go, Emi." But you weren't sure where to take her. If you moved her back to her room you knew Kenji would panic about her whereabouts when he woke up.

The bed was a good option though. You started to set her down only for her small hands to cling onto your clothes and mumble things against your neck until you relented and were pulled down with her. "Me too? Are you saying I should sleep too?" Emi made a new sound and once again cuddled up against you. "Okay, okay, but just for a few minutes. I don't think Kenji would appreciate me being in his bed. Which only confirms that your dad has awful taste in women."

He was asleep so he didn't hear what you just said and honestly you were glad. Kenji didn't have to know you had a crush on him, not now not ever. You were happy like this, being his roommate, taking care of Emi with him. That was enough, you didn't dare ask for more.

The few minutes turned into an hour.

Kenji groaned as he woke up, his back was killing him from sleeping in such an uncomfortable position. The rain still patted against the window, almost a storm and he sighed, somehow still tired.

He looked at the cup you left for him and frowned at how you decorated it with stickers despite it already being colorful enough. The tea was already cold. "Emi? Emi? Emi where are-" His words and worry caught in his throat when he saw Emi sleeping on top of you, her small body curled up against your chest and her hand holding your, both of you breathing at the same depth and speed.

Something about the sight froze him. "Em..." No, she looked too comfortable, and so did you. He couldn't wake you up.

Kenji wasn't the best team player, he will admit that much but he didn't hate the help you gave him either. Instead of waking you up he walked up to the bed and planted a kiss on Emi's forehead.

He paused then, thinking if he should do this or not. If you find out it could ruin the tentative relationship you have, but at the same time he couldn't hold back. Careful as to not wake you up he placed a kiss on the corner of your mouth, getting a sleepy smile in return. "Thank you, I... thank you." As he pulled back he noticed Emi blinking at him.

Kenji's cheeks flushed and he stumbled back, almost falling over.

"Shhh, that's our little secret. Okay Emi?" The baby Kaiju looked from him to you before seemingly shrugging and falling back asleep. Kenji sighed and fell back into his chair. That was close. Maybe he should try to hide his feelings better. Tired and conflicted he glanced at the cup of tea and decided to get a slip. "Blegh. Way too sweet for my taste." Yet he drank every last drop.

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itsnesss · 1 month ago

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Hii babe, I have another little request if you’re taking them!

Could you write something Kimi Antonelli x fem!reader where she’s super stressed because she’s about to take her final exams (like the French bac) and she hasn’t started revising at all?? It’s literally in a month, and she feels completely overwhelmed and behind.Like she’s spiraling a bit, maybe crying over highlighters and making dramatic “I’m gonna fail” speeches while Kimi just tries to calm her down and support her. Maybe he helps her organize her revision or just stays with her through the stress, reminding her that she’s smart and capable even if she doesn’t feel like it.Basically soft academic panic + golden retriever boyfriend energy. Only if it inspires you of course!! But I’d love that dynamic.

𝐜𝐫𝐢𝐬𝐢𝐬 𝐦𝐨𝐝𝐞: 𝐚𝐜𝐭𝐢𝐯𝐚𝐭𝐞𝐝 | kimi antonelli × fem!reader

summary | final exams in a month, panic sets in tears, chaos, and dramatic speeches. kimi stays, calms, organizes, and reminds: you're capable

warnings | gf!reader, academic stress, panic attack elements (crying, overwhelm), comfort, fluff, golden retriever boyfriend energy

word count | 1.5 k

🖇 more ka12 🖇 f1 masterlist

You're surrounded by highlighters. One is drying out on the edge of the bed without its cap, another is chewed between your fingers, and several more are scattered across the desk like witnesses to a crime.

Your notes are everywhere: some open on the floor, others crumpled, one pinned to the wall with washi tape like that’s going to help you absorb information through osmosis.

Your heart is pounding, your eyes are burning, and your thoughts are racing a mile a minute. You don’t even know where to start. You haven’t touched a single flashcard, haven’t opened the first topic, and the bac is in a month. One month. Thirty days. What can you do in thirty days? Go over the entire syllabus? Prepare text commentaries? Review philosophy, history, math? Sleep? No. Sleep is no longer an option.

You feel your throat burn. You're about to cry for the third time this afternoon—and it’s because of a damn dried-up highlighter.

And then, you hear the door open.

"Hey, amore..." says a familiar voice, soft, almost carefree.

Kimi walks in with a bag of croissants in one hand and his jacket slung over his shoulder. He has that smile he always wears when he sees you... but it fades the moment he takes in the disaster that is your room. And you.

"What happened here?"

You turn with a kind of hysterical laugh caught in your throat.

"What happened?" you repeat, your eyes wide. "Kimi, the bac is in a month! A month! And I haven’t started anything! I’m completely lost, I’m going to fail, my life is going to be ruined, I won’t get into university, and I’ll end up… I don’t know! Selling defective highlighters from a street stall while crying!"

You toss a tissue at your face and sigh. You're being dramatic you know it. But you're so overwhelmed you can’t help it. Everything feels too big, too hard, and you feel so, so small in front of it.

Kimi walks toward you carefully, like he’s afraid of spooking you.

"Are you crying because of…?"

"Yes, because of a highlighter!" you yell, pointing at the pastel yellow one that has tragically died on the floor. "It was dry and that was the last straw!"

He lets out a soft laugh and crouches beside you. With the kind of tenderness only he has, he runs a thumb over your damp cheek and wipes away the tear.

"At least you cry in style," he says, and you let out a choked laugh between sobs.

"Don’t make fun of me," you mumble, letting yourself fall against him. Your forehead rests against his chest, and you feel his arm wrap around you.

"I’d never do that. I'm here for this, right? To hold you while the world falls apart because of some exams."

He closes his eyes and rests his chin on your head. His voice, calm, steady, warm, filters through your chaotic thoughts like an anchor.

"You’re going to be okay. I promise. We’ll do this together, okay?"

You don’t say anything, but your hand clutches his shirt. Because even though everything in your head is spinning out of control... he always manages to stop the chaos, at least a little.

You don’t know how long you stay curled up against him. It could be minutes or an eternity. All you hear is his calm, steady breathing, like he’s trying to regulate yours with his. And in a way, it works. Your heart no longer beats with the same violence, and the tears though not completely gone have stopped flowing uncontrollably.

"Does your head hurt?" he asks quietly.

You nod, not lifting your face from his shirt. His hand moves gently across your back, drawing little circles that, for the first time in hours, make you feel like you’re not alone in this wreckage.

"Okay, listen," he says softly, pressing a small kiss to the top of your head. "I know it all feels like a giant mountain right now, but we can break it down. Step by step. Day by day. I’ll help you, amore. Want to start?"

"I don’t even know where…" you whisper, voice cracking.

"From the beginning. Tell me which subjects you need to prepare."

You take a breath, pull back slightly, and look at your desk in resignation.

"Literature, history, philosophy, english, geo, and math."

Kimi nods like it’s not a monstrous list.

"Perfect. Then we’re going to make a schedule. A real one. With breaks, time to breathe, and…" he reaches into the bag he left on the desk, "croissants as rewards."

You can’t help but laugh.

"You’re going to motivate me with pastries?"

"I’m going to motivate you with love and pastries. Which is objectively better than any educational system."

He hands you his phone, already open on a scheduling app. You look at it, surprised.

"You had this ready?"

"I know you, amore. I had a feeling."

You start dividing the days by subjects, assigning realistic study hours, leaving room for breaks, and marking small “rewards” at the end of each day. Kimi does it all with infinite patience, listening without judgment, suggesting instead of imposing.

"This is insane," you whisper at some point, watching the schedule take shape.

"No," he corrects you, taking your hand, "this is what you do when you decide to fight instead of give up. And you always fight even when you cry over highlighters."

You sigh. There’s still a pinch of anxiety in your chest, but it no longer fills the whole space. Because now he’s there, sharing it with you.

"What if I don’t make it? What if I run out of time?"

"Then we’ll improvise. Or you’ll do your best. Because you’re brilliant, even if you don’t feel like it today. I know that. And I’m not going anywhere. Even if you have to study twenty hours straight and yell at me because you don’t understand Rousseau."

You look at him. He has that soft, silly smile that always disarms you.

"Thank you," you whisper.

"Don’t thank me yet," he replies, standing up to grab your flashcards. "The battle against the note mountain hasn’t even started. But don’t worry. I brought reinforcements. And croissants."

You laugh. For the first time in days, you truly laugh.

And while he starts sorting your notebooks by color, as if that were a war tactic… you realize maybe you can do this.

Because you have Kimi. And with him, everything feels a little less impossible.

Days passed. Some were chaotic, full of tears, existential dread, and internal battles with the voice in your head telling you you wouldn’t make it. Others were miraculously productive, with full hours of focus, checkmarks on your calendar, and that almost-forgotten feeling of progress.

But the best part was that Kimi was there for all of it.

He became your official study partner. He sat beside you, even if he didn’t understand a single word of your philosophy texts. He read your outlines, quizzed you, and gave you a kiss every time you got one right. He learned how to pronounce Spinoza without laughing and ended up having opinions about Victor Hugo. More than once, you caught him doodling nonsense in the margins of your pages while you reviewed.

"Is this a philosophical pig?"

"No, it’s Descartes… in cochon mignon version," he replied seriously, like it made perfect sense.

And you laughed. You laughed so hard you forgot, for a second, all the stress.

That particular night, you were both lying on your bedroom floor. Your notes were stacked, and your head was resting on his lap. He was stroking your hair absentmindedly while you repeated phrases quietly.

"‘L’homme est condamné à être libre…’" you murmured.

"That guy sounds intense," he said, and you smiled.

"It’s Sartre."

"Couldn’t he just say ‘do what you want but take responsibility’?"

"Wouldn’t be existentialism if it were that easy to digest."

"Touché," he said, kissing your forehead.

You fall silent for a few seconds. Your eyes sting a little from exhaustion, and that familiar twinge of insecurity creeps in.

"Do you really think I can do this?"

Kimi stops stroking your hair and makes you look at him.

"Y/N… I don’t think. I know. You’re smart—smarter than you give yourself credit for. You’re scared, sure, but that doesn’t mean you’re not capable. Look at you: you’ve been fighting this for days, organizing, reviewing, moving forward. Even when you’re tired. Even when you’re scared. You keep going. And not everyone does that."

You feel a knot form in your throat. You’re not sure if it’s because of his words, his voice, or the way he looks at you like you're everything good in the world packed into one person.

"Can I give up for just a little bit?"

"You can give up for as long as you need," he whispers. "And I’ll stay with you until you’re ready to start again."

You wrap your arms around him tightly. And for a moment, between notes, highlighters, and philosophical theories, you feel safe.

And just a little bit braver.

#🖇️ kimi antonelli #kimi antonelli x you #kimi antonelli imagine #kimi antonelli x reader #kimi antonelli one shot #kimi antonelli #f1 x reader #f1 imagine #f1 fanfic #formula 1 x you #formula 1 x reader

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lotusunique · 1 year ago

Text

Nights Like This

Armando Aretas x Fem! Reader

Mkay so while yall wait on this pt.3 of The engagement, ima give yall this lil story I been working on! Im ngl I did cut it in half this was long as HELL! So enjoy ❤️

“We should go out tomorrow night. We never do that anymore.", Kelly says grabbing her purse. "Yeah because you and your man are always boo'd up somewhere. Marcus isn't allowed out too many times in a row or Theresa will kick his ass. Mike is happily married now. And I refuse to be a third wheel on you two’s date" I explain.

“So why don't you invite Armando out.", She looks over to Armando who's looking through a case file. Since he helped take down McGrath and saved Callie, Mike tried to sort out a deal for him. He'll work out his sentence, here at AMMO, being apart of the tactical weapons team.

"Um absolutely not. He literally doesn’t know I exist in that way", I groan. "That’s not true. You just gotta make yourself known. Plus he’s kinda a dick. I don't know why you like him anyway.?”,she says damn

near screaming my secret. "Um firstly, shut up. What you wanna tell the whole world my secret?", I shush her. That’s all I fucking need. For Armando to find out I like him or WORSE. Mike and Marcus could find out. I’d never live it down.

"Invite him out or l'm gonna shout it from the rooftops.", Kelly gives an evil smirk.

"Shout what from the rooftops?", Mike looks over to us. "Oh nothing just that Y/n li-", you elbow her in the side. "That Y/n is going out with Kelly and Dorn tomorrow night", you give a tight lipped smile. "I'm so excited I could scream", Kelly smiles.

"Y'all weird as hell man", Mike says just giving the two of you a glance. Kelly lets out a laugh before nodding towards Armando's seat. "No.",you give a stern look.

"Yes!", kelly says seriously. "Fine. I'll do it before I leave later.", you give in, not wanting to discuss it any further.

- Later-

"I'm out, don't stay too long okay", Kelly says patting your shoulder before heading out, quickly shooting a glance over at Armando, signaling you to talk to him.

She heads out, the door closing, being a deafening reminder of how quiet it is since you and Armando are the only ones in the office. The dim lights giving an Erie feel. "Breathe Y/n. Now's the time to go talk to him", You think to yourself.

"Hey."you walk over to him. He looks up at you with a stare that says "what do you want". "Well I just thought that since it's just me and you tonight, we could at least conversate so it won't be absolutely boring", You sit on his desk.

"What do we have to talk about?", He says with that accent that just drives you crazy.

"Well I do technically have something to ask you", You say looking down at him. "There it is", he flashes a smile. "Stop", You roll your eyes.

"Mkay shoot.", He crosses his arms with a smirk.

"Please come with me tomorrow night. Kelly wants me to go out with her and Dorn. And I really don't wanna third wheel.", you plead.

“What’s in it for me?”, he looks up at you, placing the pen in between his plump lips. “What do you want?”,you ask, staring right down at his lips.

“What’re you offering?”, he asks, moving his rolling chair to where he’s sitting in between your legs,staring up at you with this smirk on his face like he just knows what he’s doing to you.

“I..I..uh”,your breath starts to hitch. “Use your words hermosa.”, he glances up at you through low eyes.

He has to know what he’s doing to you right? The only option is to match his energy, even though it’s all a front.

“Mister Aretas, if I didn’t know any better I’d think you were flirting with me.”,you snap out of whatever shy shit you just had going on.

“And if I was?”,He traces his finger up your exposed leg. Today was the perfect day to wear a pencil skirt.

The sound of the glass doors creaking open surprises you, causing you to move off the desk swiftly as possible.

“Sorry, I left my house keys”,Marcus walks in, not looking at the two of you.

“Hollup…it’s real dark in here. What yall in here-“,he looks between the two of you. “Nothing we were just talking”,you say quickly. Marcus looks over at Armando who has a condescending smirk upon his face. “Oh okay”,Marcus laughs. “It’s not like that Marcus”,You bury your head in your hands with a laugh.

“Look that ain’t nun of my business. Just make sure you use that latex. Cause you don’t wanna get that I’m late Text!”,he says before dapping Armando up. “What is HAPPENING”, you internally scream to yourself.

Marcus quickly makes his exit, leaving you and Armando to discuss what just happened. “That was embarrassing”,you groan. “It was hilarious”,he laughs. “No it wasn’t”, you lean against the door. “I’ll go with you. I’ve got something to handle before hand though,so I’ll meet you there”,he smiles over at you.

“Okay great. I’m gonna go home. Be safe. I’ll see you tomorrow”,you nervously grab your things before heading out to your car.

#armando aretas #armando x reader #bad boys ride or die #bad boys for life

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astarionancuntnin · 6 months ago

Note

Hello! No idea if you’re taking requests, or if they are only Astarion x f!reader, nor how dark you go.

But you think you can write a Gale x f!reader in the third person (Name is just Tav) and Gale is obsessed with having a baby that he and Tav do it every minute even when Tav is asleep?

I'll go as dark as you allow me to go bb (also thank you for your patience oh my god i swear im gonna get through all my requests eventually). fair warning that this is my first Gale fic and i haven't done his romance in game, with that being said-

Silent Night

pairing: gale x tav (fem, not decribed but its implied she looks younger than him by a few years)

rating: E

word count: 3.7k

cw: 18+. smut, mentions of pregnancy, obsessive anxious thoughts, porn with feelings, coercion, unprotected sex, drugging, somnophilia, non-con, breeding kink (and breeding), creampie, using cum as lube, cock soaking, gaslighting, this is a dark one y'all have been warned. full list on ao3.

read on ao3

my masterlist

or keep reading down below~

Ever since getting rid of the Absolute, Gale’s life had been exactly how he had pictured it, and that meant spending most of his days lavishing his wife, Tav. Not a day could go by where he and his beloved did not indulge each other. Not only did they spend every single night at it - it was every single moment they had together: out on a picnic date, while they were cooking, when they were snuggled up on the sofa reading - as if their primal urges could never be satisfied.

Especially Gale’s.

After getting married, he had made it his primary goal to make sure his wife was satisfied at all moments and Gods above did he deliver. Truth be told, his drive had only gone up since they discussed their future, and potentially having a family — a child! Gale could hardly believe it; it was one of his wildest dreams and it was now just within reach.

Growing up alone with his mother, he still struggled with the idea of being a father as he feared to not be up to everyone's expectations — moreso Tav’s — but he couldn’t deny how he hoped he could eventually get the chance to be the father he always dreamed of having. Give his mother grandchildren that she could visit, make their friends aunts and uncles, even new company for Tara; finally have a real family of his own.

They had been careful in the past, however. Tav would always drink a potion that acted as contraceptive before doing anything, and it had been Gale's greatest disappointment. Every time, he wished she'd forget or would dismiss it so he could finally have it his way with her.

Thankfully, Tav was interested in the idea, but he noticed her doubts everytime the topic was brought up.

After everything they had gone through and the uncertainty of their future because of it, she had asked for some time to think about it. Make sure they were appropriately settled in — had a house, a stable income, a place secure for a child to grow up — and yes, of course, that was reasonable, but Gale couldn’t keep his mind from picturing her, with her breasts full of milk and rubbing her belly, swollen with their child.

My, what a sight.

It was enough to get him in the mood to put a damned baby in her.

But, Gale was a patient man, he could wait. Surely, she would make up her mind and have a clearer idea soon enough. She wasn’t saying it just to waste her most fertile years away, only to watch the opportunity fly out the window, or waiting for the next best option in terms of partners. They were married, for Gods’ sake, they had vowed to stay together until death did them apart, and after what they had survived, they were assured to live until their old days; they would be together forever.

…Right?

She wouldn’t just leave him now of all time, now that they were safe and secure. She didn’t just stay out of convenience, surely not. She couldn’t have lost interest since their adventure ended and was just looking for a way out �� buying her time until she could safely discard him as Mystra had done to him in the past.

Oh Gods… but what if she was?

It’s not like he was getting any younger. If anything, the stress of destroying the absolute had taken a toll on him that must’ve made him age twenty years in the few months alone it had taken them. It only struck him when he gazed upon his beloved, still the very depiction of youth, as opposed to him. She remained beautiful as time passed by and he loved to admire her, but it was a constant reminder that he wasn’t getting any younger, and the orb in his chest hadn’t helped in the matter either. Even if he figured out a way to live longer, a skill he could learn as a wizard, she wouldn't have the chance to be blessed by those same powers Gale had; he would outlive her and he would be left behind — alone.

Again.

She would have every reason to look for someone more younger, who could age with her, and less broken than he was, and the darkest parts of him couldn’t accept this reality — wouldn’t accept it.

It didn’t matter that they were married, or how many times she had reassured him, those same thoughts came back crawling like a pest.

So that night, before heading to bed, Gale prepared Tav's herbal tea as usual: with chamomile, citrus, and honey — just warm enough to be comforting — and a dose of a special potion he took care of obtaining at the market during his errands earlier, just to make sure she would sleep through the night undisturbed.

Such a good husband! The merchant had exclaimed after he had explained his wife was suffering from insomnia. Taking care of his wife and tending to her utmost care, so thoughtful!

Oh, if only they knew.

They explained in detail the exact effects of the potions, and he didn't need further convincing before dropping a pouch of coins on the table and taking off with the magic concoction.

Upon watching his wife drink the tea he had so kindly prepared, Gale could only see how right the merchant had been — Tav wasn't even halfway through her cup that her eyelids grew heavy, her head wouldn't sit straight, and her entire body screamed at her to go rest.

Gale, the caring and loving husband he is, took it upon himself to bring her to bed and lay her down comfortably, still in her night clothes, with her breathing already heavy with sleep. He pushed her hair aside, letting his knuckles brush against the supple skin of her cheek as he took in the sight of her.

His beautiful wife — almost bare as she wore a short, lilac silk nightgown, and a soft pair of lace underwear, one he would eventually remove tonight to finally take what was rightfully his.

It would be preferable if she were awake, of course, but with the way her own doubts had plagued her mind, Gale thought it fair to give her head a vacation. She could rest peacefully, and he could give her a gift she didn’t know she wanted; he would help her see reason this way and she would have no other choice but to accept it if it just happened to her.

It was for the best, for both of them — he had always been careful, always so damned careful, respecting her wishes; what about what he wanted? What about his needs?

To breed her in the dead of night, leave her with a sticky mess between her legs to wake up to, then offer her another round of morning sex to cover up the soreness he would've caused her the night prior so she could stay completely inconspicuous until her sickness shows up and her belly grows swollen with a new life and—

Oh, Gods above, no, what was he thinking?! He couldn’t do this to her — not like this; not when she was asleep, but… Hells, he couldn’t ignore the throbbing erection this vision had given him. The sheer fabric of his underwear rubbing against his cock made him groan; he wouldn't be able to let it go now… And she was right there, out cold, it’s not like she would mind it if he were to just use her a little, right?

He sighed. Fine, just a touch then, just enough to ease the ache.

He let his hand reach down and underneath his underwear, where his fingers wrapped around his length, hard and angry, and he let go of a heavy breath as he pumped himself just once. Once too many, as it only made him more desperate for what could be around his cock instead of his hand.

Just a few strokes, just enough to satisfy my needs so I can go to sleep.

His grip was strong, but he pumped himself slowly as he eyed Tav's sleeping form. His thumb moved to the head of his cock, where he found a bead of pre-come already dripping, calling out for its home that rested between his wife’s legs. He rubbed it against his tip and slid it over his shaft to lubricate himself — hoping to find some relief with his own arousal — but only found himself wishing it were from his beloved, laying right there in front of him.

Gods dammit… Fine — just a touch, then… just a little… touch…

While one hand kept stroking true, his other one found comfort in the softness of her warm breasts. Small compared to what they could be if she were carrying their child, gorged in milk, but nothing short of delicious, as he remembered their taste in his mouth, his tongue circling around her plump nipple…

Oh, the taste of her–

As she moved in her sleep, he let go, afraid that he had woken her up, only for her to have simply slightly moved her legs apart, naturally lifting her nightgown up above her thighs and allowing Gale a clear view over her beautifully wrapped entrance — all of this without him needing to even lift a finger.

He chuckled nervously, thinking only for a moment she might have been awakened by his lewd touches. Still, she remained unconscious, and he remained painfully aroused by the sight of her barely covered cunt, with her legs wide open. She was right there, ready for the picking, just for him.

Hells, why was he second guessing himself, he had already spiked her tea, it's not like she would know either way; in for a penny, in for a pound, right?

Okay, okay, just a finger, just to pick up her moist and apply it over myself. That's all I need. Nothing more.

He pulled her legs together, just to slide her underwear off, only to be hit with the scent of her arousal completely coating the silk he had pulled away from her entrance.

By the Gods, my love. You're positively soaked. What have you been dreaming of, I wonder?

He brought her underwear to his nose, breathing in her aroma, and a shiver ran down his spine as he let his thoughts wander once again to his original plan. As he looked back to her, legs spread open and slit glistening wet, there wasn’t a doubt in his mind anymore; by the time he would be done with her, her womb would finally be claimed by his potent seed, and she would bear his child whether she wanted to or not.

Hells, forget the finger, I must taste you.

Letting go of his night robe and sliding down his underwear completely, he crawled over the bed and between her legs, settling comfortably with his face right besides the warmth at the apex of her thighs. He wrapped one arm around her soft thigh, while the other hand slid up to her wet slit, squeezing her puffy lips to push her juices out and admiring it drip over their bedsheets.

“Heavens above, my love,” he whispered against her cunt, his low, raspy voice carrying the lust he was done denying himself. “You look simply delicious.”

Bringing his face closer, he pulled his tongue out and pressed it flat against her entrance, swiping up along her slick ever so slowly to collect her essence. A shudder ran down his spine at her taste as he swallowed down her juices.

He murmured, against her core, “Not even the Gods could rival your taste, my heart.”

Using his thumb and finger just below her clit, he spread open her lips to expose her fully to him; pussy wet and enlarged by her arousal, almost as if she knew he was there, as if she subconsciously liked it.

Wanted it.

He breathed heavily over her slit, his mind hazy with lust as he finally dipped his tongue deeper into her folds, working his skilled tongue in and out of her. He took his time to collect her arousal in his mouth and tasted everything she had to offer him; he wanted to please her more than anything else, even as she slept through it all. His tongue circled around her clit and his mouth latched onto it to suckle, until he felt her reaching her first orgasm as she whined faintly in her sleep and her legs twitched — but she remained unconscious through it all, allowing Gale to eat and drink his fill of her.

Pulling back with his chin coated in her essence, he licked his lips with a smile. If this continued to go just as well, he would need to go back to the seller to thank them again.

Satisfied with her taste, and with his cock practically begging for her as he had smeared the bedsheets with his precome, he sat up on his knees and lifted her legs to bring them up and around his waist, then pressed his length over her cunt with a breathy sigh.

“There, there,” he purred as he rubbed his cock along her flushed and wet lips. “That’s a good girl, lying still for her husband. I just need a bit of you, love; you can rest. Just be good for me.”

If there was any doubt of her arousal, now it couldn't be ignored. Despite Gale’s assault of his mouth on her and the certitude he had drank every drop of her come as she climaxed in her sleep, a faint line of her juices dripped down from her entrance as he coated himself with her wet and stained the bed just below them.

I'll just slide the tip of my cock against her entrance, just enough to feel her— Gods, I need to feel her warmth.

No bed sheets or underwear in the way between her and him anymore, which made it all the more simple for him to align her waist with his and push her legs apart as he leaned against her with his arms on each side of her head. His length easily found its way around her warm lips, as he slid between them.

So very soaked for me, fuck— so wet and warm. Just stay like that love, your husband just needs you a little more.

Carefully moving his hips back, he pushed his tips against her entrance, and it didn’t take him long to come to a dreadful realization.

I can't wait any longer — I need this, please forgive me, Gods, I need this.

Slowly, he pushed himself all the way inside of her, and a broken gasp escaped his throat as he hit the end of her channel, filling her completely with his cock. Despite having completely sunk inside of her depths, it still wasn’t enough. He would only be satisfied when she would be filled to the brim with his seed, burst after burst of his cock spilling inside of her until she was leaking with his cum.

He picked up a rhythm — slow and careful at first — but it quickly fastened as he lost himself in the feeling of her tight walls around him, squeezing him even as she was sleeping.

“You little vixen–” he whispered, his voice breaking as he spoke to her as if she were conscious. “Ahhh… Just take it, take it for me. That's right, just like that… Oh, you little tease— you've wanted me to do this, haven't you? Have your husband come and fuck a baby into you as you slept? Are you truly this depraved, love? Are you this much of a whore for your lover?”

As she turned her head around and her arms moved up to touch his chest, Gale thought of the worst right away and slowed down his thrusts once more, but never stopped completely; he couldn’t find the strength within himself to stop now that he had gone this far.

He brought a hand up to softly cup her face and stroke her cheek, “Shhh, please don't make me do this, please, my love.” He whispered, pleading. “Don't fight it, just let it happen, you were doing so well.”

She whimpered, either from a nightmare or the potion wearing off, and brought her floppy arms up to weakly push against Gale's chest. Asleep or not, he couldn't allow her to try and stop him, not now. He picked her wrists and pinned her to their bed as he picked his rhythm back up, pounding into her.

“None of this now, dearest,” he growled. “Your husband is fulfilling his rightful duties to you, and I know you want this, your cunt has been begging me to put a baby inside of you for weeks now. This is for your own good; our own good— fuck—”

When her eyes began to flutter open and she mumbled his name half-asleep, he didn’t need to think twice before casting a sleep spell on her to make sure she would remain calm and docile. He wouldn’t back down now, the best he could do was minimize the damage on her.

His head fell forward, with strands of his hair falling from his messy bun to cover his face and tickle hers.

“I'm sorry my heart,” he pleaded as she slept through his assault, and he wasn't sure anymore if he tried to convince her or himself the most. “You gave me no other choice, I need to take you tonight. I need to make you mine and mine alone. It's for your own good, I promise.”

As if his words had slipped past the veil of her consciousness the moment those words left his lips, he felt her cunt clench around him.

“Oh Gods, even asleep your cunt wraps so tightly around my cock.” He moaned, biting his lips to muffle the desperate sounds fighting to leave his lips. “It's okay, you don't need to use that little head of yours, your body speaks for itself with how it's milking me.”

He wrapped her legs back around his waist and cast mage hands to keep them locked in his back. There was only one way tonight was ending, and he wasn't going to back away until his job here was done.

Despite the sleeping spell and the potion, Tav whimpered as Gale fucked into her recklessly, with a rhythm nearly desperate.

“Fuck, you moan so prettily when you take my cock, I might just burst yet—”

His thrusts started to become sloppy, losing his clean rhythm to replace it by one borderline animalistic as he pressed himself wholly against her body, her breast crushed against his chest with each push of his hips. In the dead of this warm, silent night, the only sounds keeping them company were the sloppy splashes of his hips against hers, his balls slapping against her tight little asshole, and his breathy moans that grew only louder and out of control, barely noticing just how loud he was getting.

“Please let me give you the life we deserve,” he begged, not caring for the sound of his voice anymore. “Let me breed you, bear my children, make me a father– fuck!”

His body pinned Tav down, his cock completely buried into her as he spilled himself in the depths of her womb. With his concentration faltering, she started whining through her sleep spell as if she had fought through it to wake up. With his cock still pulsing his white, hot come inside of her, he brought his lips over hers to muffle her sounds with a one sided kiss.

“Shhh, it’s okay my love, it’s over. You’re okay, I’m right here. I’ve got you. Shhhh…” Gale ushered in her ear as he kept his body pressed against hers, his breath hot against her skin, and brushed away the hair from her face. “Let’s just stay like this for a moment. I need… I need this.”

He stayed inside of her for a few long minutes, until his breath came back to him and his cock went soft inside of her, only then allowing himself to pull out and lay back next to her; it was all too soon when he lost the warmth of her walls around him, and even soft, he knew his cock was missing it's home as it rested sadly over his belly in a puddle of his cum and her essence.

Making sure to avoid any doubt from her, he got up to slip his briefs and her panties back on before sliding back into bed and pulling the covers over both of them, then turned away to pretend to be sleeping. As he finally broke the concentration on his spell, Tav slowly woke up to a sweaty, but very much seemingly asleep Gale.

She shook his arm to take him out of his daze, “Gale? Gale… wake up!”

He turned around as if just woken up, “Gods, Tav,” he mumbled, feigning his fatigue. “What time is it?”

“Did you…” Her voice is sleepy and confused. “Did you fuck me while I was asleep?”

“What?” He exclaimed, raising himself up on his elbows and rubbing his eyes. “Gods, love, who do you take me for? I would never impose myself onto you like that, you must've had a nightmare. Are you quite alright? Come here–”

He brought the back of his hand to rest over her forehead, as if to check her temperature, and pulled back with a worried look.

“Poor thing — you're burning.” He brought her head to rest over his chest as he pet her head, trying to soothe her back to sleep. “Hush now, you're safe, I've got you. Shhh… You’re okay…”

Within minutes, if not seconds later, she slipped back into a restful sleep, with her head moving to the beat of his chest rising, and Gale couldn't help but admire her, chasing away the guilt of his actions as he realized the necessity of it.

The faint light of the rising sun exposed the glistening laying between her legs and pooling over the bedsheets past her panties, and he instinctively licked his lips at the mere thought of it.

Now, there would be no doubt in their future, only a certitude swirling around in his mind.

In time, she will be the most amazing and caring mother.

He just knows it.

Thank you for reading! Comments, reblogs, and likes are very much appreciated <3

tag list (comment or message me if you want to be added!): @grimistheangerinmystares @silverfangmarks @roguishcat @nyx-knox @anacdoce @jwera @annnagennnie @angeldarkness95 @marlowethebard @hellethil @frankie-mercury @ariajc79 @ladycroft5245 @lets-just-daydream @pursuitseternal @longjohnsilverfish @asterordinary @charmandabear @moochiepoo

#my posts #my writing #gale dekarios #gale of waterdeep #bg3 gale #gale x tav #bg3 #bg3 smut #writing request #gale smut #baldur's gate 3 #gale x reader

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lustlovehart · 6 months ago

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Hi! It's me again, I was wondering after recalling some stuff about reader and Rollo how would the twst monster cast react to Reader, I don't know, them asking about the earring she's always wearing and her telling them is from her partner (house husband). I mean, I know they'd react hella jealous but in different ways.

I know is annoying buuuut I like to imagine a what if, instead of going all alone towards the missions, Crowley allowed Rollo to accompany her and meeting all this creatures and Rollo being the bad (hater) policeman and Reader the (extremely) good one.

I'm sorry for asking so much Rollo 😭😭 it's just that he's so silly!

I love your works sooo much! And also how you draw the M!cast, they're all so pretty!! Love love 🫶

Cw: Jealousy, Marking mentions, gaslighting, Obsession, Rollo torturing Epel at the end

Omg! What a coincidence getting this ask after just writing a jealousy prompt in my inbox 😭

I’ve made it pretty consistent that you’re always referencing Rollo some way in your daily life. So I love making characters hear his name once a week and twitch their eye(s) at his mention. But for the most part, they all do act jealous!

The Pouty/Angry jealous: Riddle, Ace, Ruggie, Floyd, Rook, Epel, Malleus, Sebek, Skully

Whenever you mention Rollo’s name, they’re quick to cross their arms, possibly even give you a stink eye. They’ll ask you what’s so great about this ‘work husband’, he did make you do this alone. If he really cared, he would’ve came with you right? He might’ve cared for you at the foundation, but now he just threw you to the dangers of the world. They would never do that to you… So stop talking about him already.

The Sad jealous: Deuce, Cater, Jack, Azul, Kalim, Rook, Idia, Malleus, Silver, Neige, Fellow, Skully

The moment they see the way your face lights up looking at that star pattern fabric in your hand, they feel something. For some of them, it’s guilt, they can’t give you what he can, so maybe… he’s the better option for you than they are (Deuce, Jack, Silver, Neige, Skully). For others, they’re sad at the feeling of envy in their heart. It’s really not fair… This Rollo, gets to see everything side of you, your happiest, your saddest, your angriest, even your dearest. They want to see it too… Won’t you let them?

The ‘I’m just gonna leave my mark on you too’: Trey, Leona, Floyd, Jade, Jamil, Vil, Rook, Malleus, Lilia, Neige, Chenya

So, he gives you that earring. You won’t take it off. Ok. Easy fix, they’ll do something much more obvious. Whether it’s wrapping you in themselves, drawing a symbol of their soul on you, adorning you in their clothes/feathers, or even simply using their mouths, they’ll be more seen. He hopes if when you return to him, Rollo sees this mark.

Why be jealous when murder is a capability: Malleus

I hope everyone noticed he’s in each section, and he does go through these in the exact same order. Essentially, Rollo’s house sees no mercy, nor does his garden, or himself when he steps foot outside. Lightning… everywhere. Rollo get’s a certain sense of who it’s from, and he has to be physically stopped by Crowley from leaving to find you.

LMAO I love the Good cop bad cop energy Rollo and Reader would have if they went out together. Rollo is essentially the overprotective third wheel who blocks any potential suitors from you.

Anytime you’re nice to them, it’s immediately cancelled out by Rollo doing something devious.

An example:

You: Letting Epel drink your blood for like 2 minutes.

Rollo: Stabs him through the heart with a stake, Throws garlic at him, touches him with a silver fork, leaves him in the sun, places crosses on him, and dumps holy water on him. But places a really worn down bandaid on it because you’d be upset at him. He dgaf abt Epel 💀

Bonus: Rollo and Reader Dynamic

Synopsis: Absolutely smitten with you, and everyone else hates it 💀

#monster!twst #fem!reader #askves #cashiddy #twisted wonderland x reader #twst x reader #yandere twst #yandere twisted wonderland #yan twst #malleus draconia x reader #rollo flamme x reader #yandere rollo flamme #yandere malleus draconia

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jhyoos · 4 months ago

Text

Off Limits

chapter three : ice cream

soccer player vi x talis reader

mentions : lowkey loser!vi, romance, lesbianism, modern au, college au, drama, caitlyn is a bitch, smut at the end, thigh riding

summary: vi takes you as a date to caitlyn’s party

notes : lowkey a long chapter. and im honestly free writing this shit so the reader is lowkey funny

<- previous chapter | next chapter ->

The weekend meant no classes, which should have meant sleeping in. Should have.

Instead, your phone buzzed repeatedly, Jinx’s name flashing on the screen. You groaned loudly, knowing there was no way she’d stop until you answered.

“What.”

“Swimsuit shopping. Get up.”

You whined dramatically into the receiver, but Jinx wasn’t having it. “Five minutes, or I’m showing up at your house.”

That was enough motivation.

By the time you both arrived at the mall, you were still half-asleep, trailing slightly behind her as she led the way with far too much energy for this hour.

“Why so early?” you grumbled. “The party doesn’t even start until four.”

Jinx glanced over her shoulder, giving you a deadpan look. “For someone so fashionable, you’re actually kind of stupid.”

That woke you up. “Excuse me? What?”

“We’re here early because everyone is gonna be looking for the best swimsuits,” she explained, waving a hand dramatically. “Everyone is gonna be at this party. Early bird gets the worm.”

“I don’t want the worm,” you huffed. “I have plenty of swimsuits.”

“Yeah, but we gotta make a statement.” Jinx smirked. “Especially since we’re both going on dates.”

You sighed, rubbing your temples. “I’m not buying anything to wear for Vi unless I’m getting my pussy ate specifically from the back by the end of it,” you said out loud which made some bystanders look at you weird.

Jinx frowned “That’s my sister you’re talking about, ya know…,” she says.

“My bad…,” you said with a awkward smile

She rolled her eyes before she grabbed your wrist and dragged you into H&M.

The two of you sifted through racks of swimsuits, pulling out options and tossing them back just as quickly. Jinx was the first to find one—a sleek white bikini with a matching cover-up that tied at the waist. She held it up against herself, eyeing it with approval.

“This is cute,” she mused. “Gonna make Ekko die.”

You snorted. “That’s the goal, huh?”

She grinned. “Always.”

After Jinx finished checking out, she glanced over at you, eyebrow raised.

“Sure you’re not getting anything?”

“Nope,” you said, shaking your head. “I already have the swimsuit. Haven’t worn it yet because I didn’t have a reason… but now? Oh, everyone is gonna love it.”

Jinx grinned, linking her arm through yours. “That’s what I like to hear.” Then, without missing a beat, she tugged you toward the food court. “Come on, let’s get Auntie Anne’s.”

You didn’t argue—mall pretzels were a must.

The moment you got home, you started your everything shower. No shortcuts. No half-measures.

Shampoo. Conditioner. Deep conditioner. Double cleanse. Full-body exfoliation. Shaving from head to toe like you were about to be sculpted out of marble.

By the time you stepped out, steam curled around the bathroom like mist, and your skin was as soft as a baby’s.

Next? Pedicure. Classic white polish, clean and sharp. You sat back, letting your toes dry, scrolling mindlessly through your phone—until the screen lit up with a call.

Vi. 🖕❤️

You sighed dramatically before answering. “What do you want, Violet? Phone sex?”

There was a pause, then her amused chuckle crackled through the speaker.

“Damn… I was gonna wait until like, the third date for that,” Vi teased. “But I mean… never too early.”

You snorted, shifting to get comfortable. “If you act correctly at this party, maybe I’ll let you get a little something something.”

“Pinky promise?”

“Yes, puppy,” you mocked, voice dripping with fake sweetness. “I pinky promise.”

You were fastening your earrings when your phone buzzed.

Vi 🖕❤️: I’m outside

You glanced at yourself in the mirror, taking in the final look. The swimsuit you chose was a moment all on its own—an earthy-toned bikini with a bold zigzag pattern that hugged every curve. The top was a classic triangle style, tied perfectly to show off just enough. The matching wrap skirt sat high on your waist, the gold ring at the hip accentuating your shape. The slit up the side? Just enough to tease. You smirked. Yeah, you looked good.

Grabbing your bag, you headed out the door.

Vi was leaning against her car like she was in a damn movie, arms crossed over her chest, looking effortlessly cocky. The second she saw you, though, that confidence faltered—her gaze dragging over you, eyes darkening, her mouth parting slightly.

She had on a simple sports bra and some swim shorts, her toned arms and abs on full display. God, she’s such a butch, you thought, biting back a grin. And Jesus, does she make it work.

She pushed off the car as you approached, still too busy staring at you to watch her step—almost tripping on the curb.

“Be careful, loser,” you teased, smirking.

“I am being careful,” she shot back, straightening herself like nothing happened.

You giggled before stepping into her space, wrapping your arms around her in a hug. She was warm—solid. Her hands found your waist, lingering just a second too long before you leaned in, whispering near her ear,

“You’re not gonna act like a dog, are you?”

Vi exhaled sharply, fingers tightening on your waist for a moment. “Of course, baby,” she murmured. “I’m gonna take real good care of you.”

Your lips curled into a smirk as you pulled back, shoving your bag of clothes into her hands.

“Be a good puppy and carry this for me.”

Vi groaned but didn’t argue, tossing your bag into the backseat before—of course—opening the car door for you.

“Thanks,” you hummed, sliding in and buckling up.

She shut the door, walked around, and got in beside you. With a final glance at your legs—peeking through the slit in your skirt—she exhaled, shaking her head before starting the engine.

Next stop: the devil’s house. I mean, Caitlyn’s.

Caitlyn’s house was exactly what you expected—huge, elegant, and screaming old money. The driveway was already packed with cars, the faint sound of music and laughter spilling out from the backyard.

You glanced over at Vi, who was gripping the steering wheel a little too tightly. Her jaw was clenched, her shoulders stiff.

“You okay, Vi?” you asked, watching her carefully.

“Yeah… just—let’s go.” Her voice was off. Flat. Like she was bracing for something.

She got out quickly, coming around to open your door like the perfect little gentleman she pretended not to be. You stepped out, and she shut the door behind you, her movements sharp.

Something was up.

“You’re still talking to her… aren’t you?” you asked, crossing your arms.

Vi sighed, running a hand through her hair. “No. I just… only told you half the truth when I asked you out.” She hesitated, eyes flicking up to yours. “I didn’t tell Cait I was bringing you as my date.”

Your stomach dropped.

“What the fuck, Vi?” you hissed, stepping closer. “She’s my captain. She could go to the cheer coach and do God knows what—”

“That’s not gonna happen,” Vi cut in firmly. “One thing about Cait is she keeps her word. I told her to leave you alone.”

You stared at her, your heart pounding in frustration. “Jesus…”

You turned on your heel and started walking toward the house, leaving her standing there.

The tension was thick as you stormed toward Caitlyn’s house, Vi trailing behind you. The last thing you wanted was drama at a damn pool party, but of course, here you were.

The second you stepped into the backyard, it felt like all eyes were on you. The pool shimmered under the setting sun, the sound of splashing water and distant laughter mixing with the music playing over the speakers. Caitlyn was standing near the bar, drink in hand, looking completely unbothered—until her eyes landed on you.

Jinx was the first to notice you both. She was sitting on the edge of the pool with Ekko, kicking her feet in the water. “Heyyyy, look who finally decided to show up,” she called, grinning. “Damn, Vi, didn’t know she’d bring you though.”

“Shut up, Jinx. And for the record I asked her,” Vi muttered, but Jinx just snickered.

Caitlyn made her way over, her expression unreadable. “Didn’t know you were bringing a date,” she said coolly, eyeing you.

“Yeah, well, now you do,” Vi shot back, standing a little closer to you.

Caitlyn hummed, sipping her drink before turning back to her group of friends, whispering something you couldn’t hear. You felt the weight of their stares, but you refused to shrink under them.

The party actually started off fun.

The music blasted through the speakers, laughter filled the air, and the pool glowed under the soft party lights. You weren’t sure what you expected when Vi dragged you along to Caitlyn’s party of all places, but for a while, it was easy to forget the tension.

You stuck close to Vi, but Jinx and Ekko made it easy to loosen up. You hesitated when Ekko handed you a shot, but he grinned. “Relax. It’s ok. If you get too drunk, we got you.”

You sighed, then downed it. The heat burned your throat, but the way Vi smirked at you made it worth it.

One shot turned into two. Then three. Before you knew it, you were laughing too hard at Jinx’s ridiculous impressions of people at the party, leaning into Vi’s side.

The music pulled you in, and soon, dancing became inevitable. You and Vi got close—hands lingering, touches getting bolder. Her fingers pressed into your hips as you moved, and the alcohol in your system only made you braver.

Caitlyn noticed.

Her jaw clenched as she watched from across the party, her grip tightening around her drink. You could feel her eyes on you, but honestly? You didn’t care.

The heat from all the dancing—mixed with the alcohol—eventually became too much. “I need to cool off,” you murmured, wiping the sweat from your brow.

Vi smirked. “Pool?”

You nodded, and the two of you headed to the edge, dipping your feet in the water. The cold contrast against your overheated skin was heaven.

You weren’t sure how much time passed, but as you started to sober up a little, something shoved you—hard.

The impact sent you toppling forward. The moment you hit the water, panic set in. The weight of your clothes dragged you down, and you kicked wildly, trying to push yourself up. Shit. You knew how to swim, but not in deep water.

You tried to find the surface, but everything felt wrong. The more you struggled, the more disoriented you became.

Then, a splash.

Strong arms wrapped around you, pulling you up. Vi.

The moment you broke the surface, you gasped, coughing violently as Vi held onto you. “I got you,” she said, voice sharp with worry.

She helped you to the pool’s edge, steadying you as you clung to her, your entire body shaking.

Then Vi turned, furious.

“The fuck is wrong with you?!” she snapped, voice cutting through the party noise.

The girl who pushed you—one of Caitlyn’s close friends—just laughed. “Relax, it was a joke.”

“A joke?” Vi’s fists clenched. “You think nearly drowning someone is funny?”

Jinx cracked her knuckles, grinning. “See, this is why I love parties. Always some dumbass asking to get their ass beat.”

Ekko placed a firm hand on her shoulder, shaking his head. “Not now, Jinx.”

Vi turned to Caitlyn, seething. “This is exactly why I didn’t tell you she was coming. You let your friends pull this shit?”

Caitlyn sighed, rubbing her temples. “Vi—”

“No. Fuck that,” Vi snapped. “I told you to leave her alone. You wanna act like you're better than all this, but you let your friends act like this?”

Caitlyn hesitated, her gaze flickering to you. “I didn’t tell her to do that.”

“But you didn’t stop it either.”

For once, Caitlyn had nothing to say.

Vi turned back to you, hands gripping your arms gently, scanning your face. “You okay?”

You swallowed, still shaken, but nodded. “Yeah.”

Vi exhaled, shaking her head. “We’re leaving.”

She didn’t wait for a response. Instead, she grabbed your hand and pulled you away from the pool, away from Caitlyn, away from the bullshit.

Jinx and Ekko followed close behind.

Caitlyn called after Vi, but she didn’t stop.

And honestly? Neither did you.

Vi drove in silence, her grip tight on the steering wheel. She still hadn’t fully calmed down from the party, but she needed to get you out of there. Away from them. Away from her.

So, she took you to Coldstone.

She figured ice cream might help, something sweet to take your mind off everything. And, of course, she paid.

You kept it simple—nothing over the top, just a classic cone with a couple of safe flavors. You and Vi changed out your swimwear but, your skin was still damp, and the cool evening air made you shiver slightly as you both sat outside at the plaza.

Vi wasn’t even thinking about her own ice cream. Her focus was you. The way your lips wrapped around the cone, the slow, casual licks as you tried to keep it from melting over your fingers. Her mouth went dry.

Jesus Christ.

She swallowed hard, shifting in her seat as she tried to pull her mind away from where it was headed.

The plaza was quiet, barely any people around at this hour. The only sounds were the distant hum of cars and the occasional passerby. Vi finally broke the silence.

“You okay, baby?” she asked, voice softer now.

You nodded, licking a stray drip from the side of your cone. “Yeah…I thought I was a good swimmer, but I guess I need a few more lessons,” you joked, trying to lighten the mood.

Vi huffed a laugh, shaking her head. “I’m just glad you’re okay. I can always teach you, y’know.”

You glanced at her, intrigued. “Oh yeah?”

She nodded, leaning back against the bench. “Yeah. Had to learn myself. My dad just pushed me into a lake when I was little and told me to get to the surface.”

Your brows lifted. “He what?”

Vi smirked, but there was a flicker of something behind her eyes. “Yeah. Sink or swim, y’know? I won’t do that to you, though.”

You snorted, shaking your head. “You just go with the flow don’t you?…”

Vi tilted her head, watching as you took another slow lick of your ice cream. And fuck—that was it.

She barely whispered the curse under her breath, but you caught it.

Your eyes widened, then a smirk curled at your lips. “Oh my God… You’re getting hot from me eating ice cream?”

Vi didn’t say a damn word.

She just stared.

So, naturally, you decided to push her buttons. You dragged your tongue over the ice cream slower this time, making sure she watched every movement.

Vi exhaled sharply through her nose. “I’ll bend you over right now.”

Your smirk deepened. “And do what? There’s people around.”

“I’m willing to make that sacrifice.”

You laughed, shaking your head before taking a bite of your ice cream. “I’m not having public sex with you, puppy.”

Vi groaned, rubbing a hand over her face. “You’re killing me.”

You just grinned, thoroughly enjoying how easy it was to fluster her. “You’ll survive.”

Vi wasn’t so sure about that.

After finishing your ice cream, you both climbed back into the car. You buckled yourself in, settling into the seat as Vi started the engine. The streetlights cast a soft glow through the windshield, illuminating her face as she turned to look at you.

"Where to next?" Vi asked, resting one hand on the wheel.

You shrugged, turning toward her. "I don’t know… you’re the driver."

Vi huffed a small laugh, but her eyes lingered on your face. That’s when she noticed it—the faint smear of ice cream at the corner of your lips. Without thinking, she leaned in, her thumb gently swiping across your skin to wipe it away.

Then, slowly, deliberately, she brought her thumb to her lips and licked it clean.

You watched her. Your breath caught in your throat as her tongue flicked over her skin, her eyes locked onto yours. The simple, effortless movement sent a shiver down your spine.

Oh.

"I get it now," you murmured, voice barely above a whisper.

Vi’s brow lifted slightly, but before she could respond, you leaned in and kissed her.

She didn’t hesitate—her lips moved against yours immediately, eager, warm, and still sweet from the ice cream. The taste of vanilla and something entirely her filled your senses, and you wanted more.

Before you even realized it, you had shifted onto her lap, your hands resting against her shoulders as your lips moved hungrily against hers. Vi’s grip tightened around your waist, her hands sliding down, finding their way to your ass as she pulled you flush against her.

The car was filled with the sound of heavy breathing and soft gasps between kisses. You could feel her heartbeat against your chest, fast and strong.

Then, you pulled away.

Vi looked up at you, her pupils blown wide, lips slightly parted. There was something desperate in her gaze—puppy eyes, silently pleading for you to continue.

But you swallowed hard, trying to catch your breath. "We can’t have sex, Vi," you murmured, though your voice betrayed the hesitation in your words.

Vi nodded quickly, her hands still resting on your thighs. "We’re not. I promise."

You hesitated, biting your lip. Her hands on you, the warmth of her body, the way she looked at you—it made it so damn hard to think straight.

But then you exhaled softly, giving in as you leaned down, capturing her lips once more.

Vi shifted beneath you, adjusting her position until one of her toned legs slid between yours. You barely had time to register the change before her hands on your hips guided you down onto her thigh. A sharp inhale left your lips as the pressure hit just right—your dress providing little barrier between you and the warmth of her skin.

Vi pulled away from the kiss, her breath heavy, pupils dark with need. Her hands tightened their grip on your waist, steadying you as she murmured against your lips, “Ride my thigh.”

Your breath hitched. “Vi… this is a public parking lot.”

Her lips curled into a smirk, her voice low and coaxing. “Come on, please? My windows are tinted—no one’s gonna see.”

Her thigh tensed beneath you, flexing just enough to send a jolt of friction straight to your core. The feeling made your head spin, your body betraying your hesitation as your grip on her shoulders tightened.

Vi leaned in, her lips grazing the shell of your ear as she whispered, “No one will know, baby. Just you and me.”

You swallowed hard, your pulse racing. Vi’s hands roamed up and down your thighs, warm and steady, encouraging but never forcing. You bit your lip, glancing around the empty parking lot before looking back down at her. Her pupils were blown wide, her gaze locked onto you, waiting—hoping.

You exhaled sharply. Fuck it.

Slowly, you rolled your hips against her thigh, testing the friction. A quiet gasp escaped you, and Vi’s grip tightened. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured, her voice thick with desire. Her hands guided your movements, but you quickly found your own rhythm, grinding down harder as the pressure ignited a slow, burning heat in your wet cunt.

Vi’s lips brushed against your neck, leaving featherlight kisses before she nipped at your skin. “You feel so good,” she groaned, flexing her leg beneath you to give you more resistance.

Your fingers dug into her shoulders as a soft moan slipped past your lips. “Vi…”

She pulled back just enough to watch you, her expression absolutely wrecked with want. “Keep going, baby. Let me see you fall apart for me.”

The air in the car was thick, hot, electric. Your pace quickened, chasing that high, your moans got louder, your body trembling with each roll of your hips. Vi’s hands never left you, steadying, supporting, worshipping.

And just when you felt yourself getting close, her lips found yours again, swallowing your gasps and moans, drowning you in her.

Your body tensed as the pleasure built, the friction of Vi’s thigh against your core sending waves of heat through you. Your arousal leaking through your panties and onto her thigh. Your moans became shaky, your movements becoming more desperate as you chased the high she was coaxing out of you.

Vi watched you like you were the most beautiful thing she’d ever seen—her grip on your hips tightening as she helped you ride out the rhythm. “That’s it, baby,” she murmured against your lips. “Just let go.”

The tension inside you snapped, a sharp gasp and a high moan breaking free as pleasure crashed over you in waves. Your body trembled in her hold, and Vi’s arms wrapped around you, steadying you as you rode out your high. Your head fell against her shoulder, your breathing ragged, skin flushed.

For a moment, the only sounds in the car were your uneven breaths and the distant hum of the city outside. Vi pressed a soft kiss to your temple, her fingers running slow, soothing circles along your back.

“You’re unreal,” she whispered, her voice filled with something deeper than lust—something almost tender.

You let out a breathy laugh, lifting your head to meet her gaze. “You’re trouble,” you muttered, though there was no real bite to it.

Vi smirked, her hands never leaving your waist. “And you love it.”

You rolled your eyes but didn’t deny it. Instead, you cupped her jaw, brushing your thumb against her cheek before pressing one last, lingering kiss to her lips.

“We should probably get out of this parking lot before someone gets suspicious,” you murmured.

Vi groaned, resting her forehead against yours. “Fine. But next time, we’re not stopping at just that.”

You grinned, pressing a playful kiss to the corner of her mouth before sliding back into your seat. “We’ll see, puppy.”

Vi shook her head, chuckling as she started the car. “You’re gonna be the death of me.”

As Vi pulled out of the parking lot, you leaned back in your seat, feeling the aftershocks of what had just happened still buzzing through you. The night air filtered in through the cracked window, cooling your flushed skin. Vi, on the other hand, looked proud of herself—one hand on the wheel, the other resting lazily on her thigh, fingers tapping against the fabric of her shorts.

A playful idea sparked in your mind. You reached beneath your dress, slipping your hands under the thin fabric of your panties and slowly sliding them down your legs. Vi glanced over, catching just a glimpse of the movement before turning back to the road, her jaw tightening.

“You better not be doing what I think you’re doing,” she muttered.

You smirked, lifting the lacy fabric into her line of sight before tossing them into her lap. “Relax, puppy. It’s a gift.”

Vi picked them up with two fingers, glancing at you before grinning like the menace she was. “Oh, you’re really something else.” Without hesitation, she reached for the gearshift, tying your panties around it like some kind of twisted trophy.

“There. Now I’ve got a little decoration.”

You laughed, shaking your head. “That’s your ‘something something.’”

Vi raised a brow, still grinning. “Then what was that in the parking lot?”

You leaned closer, lips brushing the shell of her ear as you whispered, “A thank you for saving me.”

Vi’s breath hitched for just a second before she chuckled, shaking her head. “Shit, baby… you really know how to keep me on my toes.”

You smirked, settling back into your seat with a satisfied hum. “Someone’s gotta keep you entertained.”

Vi pulls up to your apartment complex, her car engine purring to a quiet stop as she parks. She gives you a smirk as you both step out, the evening air carrying a hint of coolness that only makes her presence feel warmer. You walk side by side, your hands brushing slightly before stepping into the elevator together.

The elevator hums as it rises, both of you standing close, the tension between you palpable, though neither of you acknowledges it. When the door dings, you step out first, leading the way to your apartment door. You take your things from Vi’s hands, your fingers grazing hers for a moment longer than necessary.

You look over at her, a small smile playing at your lips. “I enjoy our… date,” you say softly, teasingly.

Vi’s lips curl into a grin, her eyes glinting with something playful. “I enjoyed it too… a lot,” she says, her voice low, like she’s savoring the moment.

You glance back at your empty apartment, knowing Jayce won’t be home for another day. You knew your brother well. When he’s gone he won’t be back for a while.

You don’t mind the solitude, but tonight you’re in the mood for something else. Turning back to Vi, you lock eyes. “Stay the night with me,” you say, your tone serious but laced with a challenge.

Vi raises an eyebrow, a smirk tugging at the corner of her mouth as she leans back against the door. “Why, pretty?” she asks, her voice dripping with curiosity.

You let out a soft chuckle, the air between you light but charged with something more. “Because I need a big, tall, sexy, muscular butch to protect me while I sleep,” you reply with a playful grin, your words teasing but carrying an unspoken invitation.

Vi laughs, deep and genuine, her eyes never leaving yours.

“That’s good enough excuse for me.”

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