#these scenes come one right after another

[little-jana]

"She Said No"

Pairing: Spencer Reid x f!reader

Genre: fluff

Warnings: jealous Spencer, a guy flirting with reader, kissing

Words: 1.5k

Summary: After a case, a guy starts flirting with the reader. Spencer doesn't like that at all.

The bar was crowded, buzzing with music and voices overlapping in a chaotic harmony. The team had chosen this place to unwind after a long case, and though it wasn’t my scene, I didn’t want to be the only one to say no. I figured a couple of hours with a fruity drink and good company couldn’t hurt.

I stuck close to the bar while the others scattered—Garcia dragged Morgan to the dance floor, JJ and Will found a quieter corner to chat, and Emily and Rossi were already laughing over glasses of whiskey. Spencer was somewhere, probably lost in thought or nursing a single beer, but I couldn’t spot him right away.

I was halfway through my drink when a man slid into the seat beside me. I didn’t notice him at first, too busy scanning the room, but his voice broke through the noise.

“Looks like you’re flying solo tonight.”

I glanced at him, startled by his sudden proximity. He was tall, broad-shouldered, and wore an expensive suit that clashed with the casual vibe of the bar. His confidence was palpable, his smile overly polished.

“Not exactly,” I replied politely, lifting my drink. “I’m here with friends.”

“Friends?” he asked, leaning closer. “So, not a boyfriend?”

I frowned, my grip tightening around my glass. “No, just friends.”

“Good,” he said with a grin. “That makes this easier.”

I blinked, caught off guard. “Excuse me?”

He gestured to the bartender to get me another drink, ignoring the confused look on my face. “You looked like you needed some company. A guy like me can’t let a girl like you sit here all alone.”

My polite smile faltered. “I’m fine, really. But thanks.”

“Come on,” he said, undeterred. “It’s just a drink.”

I opened my mouth to respond, but before I could, a familiar voice cut through the tension.

“She said no.”

I turned, surprised to find Spencer standing just behind me. His hands were shoved into his pockets, but the tightness in his jaw and the sharpness in his eyes told a different story.

The man raised an eyebrow, clearly unimpressed. “And who are you?”

“I’m her friend,” Spencer replied evenly. His voice wasn’t loud, but it carried a weight that made the man pause. “And she’s not interested.”

“Friend, huh?” the man said, smirking. “Doesn’t seem like you’re her type.”

Spencer didn’t react to the jab, his expression calm but unyielding. “She already gave you her answer. I suggest you walk away.”

The man chuckled, shaking his head. “Whatever, man. Good luck.”

He turned and disappeared into the crowd, leaving me standing there, my heart racing.

“You didn’t have to do that,” I said, glancing up at Spencer.

“Yes, I did,” he said, his gaze still fixed on where the man had walked off. “He wasn’t listening to you.”

“I had it under control,” I insisted, though my voice lacked conviction.

Spencer turned to me then, his hazel eyes softening. “I know you did. But he had no right to put you in that position.”

There was something in his tone that made my breath catch. It wasn’t just protective—it was possessive in a way I’d never seen from Spencer before.

“Why does it bother you so much?” I asked, my voice quieter now.

He hesitated, his eyes darting away. “It doesn’t.”

I raised an eyebrow. “Really? Because it seemed like it did.”

His jaw tightened, and he let out a quiet sigh. “I didn’t like the way he was looking at you,” he admitted. “Like you were… something to win.”

My heart fluttered, and I took a step closer to him without thinking. “And how do you look at me?”

He blinked, caught off guard by the question. For a moment, he didn’t say anything. Then, finally, he sighed.

“Like someone I don’t deserve,” he said softly.

My breath caught, and I felt my cheeks flush. “Spencer…”

“You don’t have to say anything,” he said quickly, shaking his head. “I just… I couldn’t stand there and watch him treat you like that. I couldn’t.”

The words hung between us, heavy and charged. I didn’t know what to say, didn’t know how to process the warmth spreading through my chest.

Before I could respond, Morgan’s voice broke the silence. “Hey, Pretty Boy, you good?”

We turned to find the rest of the team watching us, their curiosity evident. Morgan raised an eyebrow, clearly picking up on the tension.

“Yeah,” Spencer said quickly, stepping back. “We’re fine.”

Morgan didn’t look convinced, but he let it go, turning back to the others.

When we were alone again, I turned to Spencer, my heart still racing. “Thank you,” I said softly.

“You don’t have to thank me,” he replied, his voice quiet.

“I know,” I said, smiling. “But I want to.”

He smiled back, that shy, boyish smile that always made my heart ache.

“Can I walk you out?” he asked.

I nodded, and as we stepped out into the cool night air, I couldn’t help but feel like something had shifted between us—something I wasn’t ready to let go of.

As Spencer and I stepped into the crisp night air, the hum of the bar faded behind us, replaced by the distant sounds of the city. The cool breeze brushed against my skin, sending a slight shiver through me, but it wasn’t just the cold that made my chest feel tight. Spencer walked beside me, his hands tucked into his pockets, his head slightly bowed. There was a quiet tension between us, a palpable shift that neither of us had dared to fully acknowledge.

“Spencer,” I said softly, breaking the silence.

He glanced at me, his hazel eyes warm but uncertain. “Yeah?”

“I meant what I said earlier. Thank you.” I stopped walking, turning to face him. “Not just for stepping in tonight, but… for always looking out for me.”

He stopped too, his gaze locking with mine. “You don’t have to thank me for that,” he said, his voice low. “I’d do it a hundred times over.”

The sincerity in his words sent a wave of warmth through me, and for a moment, I forgot about the chill in the air. “You mean that?”

“Of course I do.” His voice was steady, but his expression softened, as if he were letting a part of himself show that he usually kept hidden. “You mean… so much to me.”

My breath caught in my throat. He’d always been careful with his words, always measured. But there was nothing calculated about the way he was looking at me now, like he was on the edge of saying something that could change everything.

“You mean a lot to me too, Spencer,” I said, my voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled, that shy, vulnerable smile that made my heart ache. “You know, I’m not… the best at expressing how I feel. But tonight, when that guy wouldn’t leave you alone…” He paused, running a hand through his hair, clearly searching for the right words. “It made me realize I can’t keep pretending I don’t feel this way about you. I can’t keep pretending I don’t—”

“Spencer,” I interrupted gently, stepping closer to him.

He froze, his eyes searching mine. “I’m sorry. I don’t want to make this awkward or ruin anything, but I—”

“You’re not ruining anything,” I said, cutting him off again. “I promise.”

He blinked, his mouth opening and closing as if he wanted to say something but couldn’t find the words.

So, I took the leap for both of us. “Do you know how long I’ve wanted you to say something like this?” I asked, my cheeks warming as I admitted it out loud.

His eyes widened slightly. “You have?”

I nodded, a soft laugh escaping me. “You’re kind of oblivious, you know that?”

A small, embarrassed smile tugged at his lips. “I’ve been told that before.”

I stepped even closer, so close that I could feel the warmth radiating from him. “You don’t have to be afraid, Spencer. I feel the same way.”

The tension between us seemed to shift then, no longer heavy with uncertainty but something lighter, warmer, filled with hope. He let out a breath he must have been holding, and his shoulders relaxed slightly.

“Can I—” He hesitated, his voice trailing off.

“Yes,” I said softly, not needing him to finish the question.

He didn’t move right away, his eyes scanning my face as if committing every detail to memory. Then, slowly, he reached out, his hand brushing against my cheek. His touch was gentle, almost hesitant, but it sent a shiver down my spine.

And then he kissed me.

It was soft at first, tentative, like he was still afraid of crossing a line. But as I leaned into him, threading my fingers through his hair, the kiss deepened. There was something intoxicating about the way he kissed—equal parts tender and desperate, like he’d been waiting for this moment just as long as I had.

When we finally pulled apart, we were both breathless, our foreheads resting against each other. His hand was still on my cheek, his thumb brushing lightly against my skin.

“I don’t know what I did to deserve you,” he murmured, his voice thick with emotion.

I smiled, my heart swelling at the vulnerability in his words. “You don’t have to do anything, Spencer. You’re enough just as you are.”

His eyes searched mine, and for the first time, I saw something in them I’d never noticed before—hope.

“I don’t want this to change anything,” he said quietly. “I don’t want to lose what we have.”

“You’re not going to lose me,” I promised, my voice steady. “This just makes what we have even better.”

He smiled then, a genuine, unguarded smile that made my chest feel warm. “I don’t know how I got so lucky.”

I laughed softly, brushing a strand of hair out of his face. “I think I’m the lucky one.”

We stood there for a while, wrapped in the quiet of the night and the warmth of each other. The world around us seemed to fade away, leaving only the two of us in this perfect, fragile moment.

And for the first time in what felt like forever, I wasn’t afraid of what came next.

[moonlightwritingf1]

To New Beginnings | LN4

ᥫ᭡ summary ━━━━━━━ Y/n and Lando share a passionate kiss on New Year’s Eve, leading to an intimate connection. Despite her hesitations, Y/n gives in to the growing attraction between them.

ᥫ᭡ pairing ━━━━━━━ Lando Norris x she!reader

ᥫ᭡ word count ━━━━━━━ 6.1k

ᥫ᭡ warnings ━━━━━━━ +18, sexual content

The New Year’s Eve party was in full swing, the air thick with laughter, clinking glasses, and the bass-heavy thrum of music. Y/n stood just inside the doorway, her fingers nervously brushing over the delicate fabric of her dress. It was black, long, and clung to her curves in a way that made her feel both powerful and exposed. The neckline dipped low, revealing just enough to be daring without crossing into vulgarity. She had debated wearing it for hours, but now, standing here, she was glad she’d taken the risk.

This is it, she thought, taking a deep breath. Tonight, I let myself exist. Just for tonight.

She scanned the room, her eyes landing on familiar faces—friends from work, acquaintances from London’s social scene. But before she could fully settle into the space, her gaze locked onto someone else entirely. Lando.

He was across the room, leaning casually against the bar, a glass of champagne in hand. His dark hair was slightly messy, his tailored suit hugging his frame perfectly. Even from this distance, she could see the way his eyes lit up when he noticed her. He straightened, setting his glass down, and began making his way toward her.

Her heart skipped a beat. Why does he always look at me like that?

“Y/n,” he said as he approached, his voice smooth and warm, with just a hint of that teasing edge she’d come to expect from him. “You’re here.”

She forced herself to smile, though her cheeks were already flushing. “I am. It’s a party, after all.”

“Yes, but you’re here,” he emphasized, his eyes raking over her in a way that made her skin tingle. “And in that dress? You’re going to make it impossible for anyone else to get my attention tonight.”

She rolled her eyes, trying to play off the compliment. “Oh, please. You’ll forget about me the moment someone hands you another drink.”

He stepped closer, his hand brushing against her waist as if by accident. Was it an accident? She couldn’t tell. “I don’t think that’s possible,” he murmured, his voice lowering just enough that she had to lean in slightly to hear him. “Not when you’re standing there looking like… that.”

Y/n glanced away, shaking her head. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Only around you,” he said with a grin, his fingers lingering on her hip now, sending a shiver down her spine. “Come on, let’s get you a drink. You look like you need one.”

Before she could protest, he was guiding her toward the bar, his hand still firmly on her waist. She could feel the heat of his touch through the thin fabric of her dress, and it was distracting in a way she hadn’t anticipated. As they walked, she noticed the way people turned to watch them, their curious glances flickering between her and Lando. Do they think we’re together? The thought sent a strange mix of panic and something else—something warmer—through her chest.

At the bar, Lando ordered her a glass of wine, his arm brushing against hers as he leaned in to speak to the bartender. When he handed her the glass, his fingers lingered against hers for a moment too long. “To new beginnings,” he said, raising his own glass in a toast.

She clinked her glass against his, trying to ignore the way his eyes seemed to pierce right through her. “Cheers.”

They sipped their drinks in silence for a moment, the noise of the party swirling around them. But Lando didn’t seem interested in letting the conversation die. “So,” he said, tilting his head slightly as he studied her. “Why did it take so long for you to show up? I was starting to think you weren’t coming.”

“I wasn’t sure if I would,” she admitted, tracing the rim of her glass with her finger. “But… I figured, why not? It’s New Year’s Eve.”

“And I’m glad you did,” he said, his voice softening. “Because now I get to spend the night with the most beautiful woman in the room.”

She laughed, shaking her head. “You’re so full of it.”

“Am I?” he asked, stepping closer again, his free hand resting lightly on her hip. “Or are you just refusing to believe me?”

Her breath hitched slightly at the intensity in his gaze. “Maybe both.”

He chuckled, the sound low and warm. “Fair enough. But I’m not going to stop telling you until you believe me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, the music shifted to a slower tempo, and Lando’s expression changed. There was a glint in his eye now, something playful and mischievous. “Dance with me,” he said, offering her his hand.

“What? No,” she protested, shaking her head. “I don’t dance.”

“Everyone dances on New Year’s Eve,” he countered, his fingers wrapping around hers before she could pull away. “Come on, Y/n. Live a little.”

She hesitated, glancing around the room. But something in the way he was looking at her—like she was the only person in the world—made her nod. Just one dance, she told herself. What’s the harm?

As he led her to the center of the room, his hand moved to her waist, pulling her close. She placed her free hand on his shoulder, feeling the firm muscle beneath his suit jacket. They began to sway to the music, and she was acutely aware of every point of contact between them—the warmth of his hand on her back, the press of his chest against hers, the way his breath brushed against her cheek.

“See?” he murmured, his lips close to her ear. “This isn’t so bad, is it?”

“I suppose not,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He chuckled softly, his grip tightening ever so slightly. “Good. Because I’ve been waiting months for this.”

Her heart raced at his words, but before she could respond, he spun her gently, pulling her even closer this time. Their bodies were flush now, and she could feel the steady beat of his heart against hers. When the song ended, neither of them moved. Instead, they stood there, locked in each other’s embrace, the rest of the party fading into the background.

“Y/n,” he whispered, his voice rough with emotion. “There’s something I need to—”

But before he could finish, the countdown to midnight began. The crowd erupted into cheers, and Y/n felt a surge of adrenaline. 10… 9… 8…

Lando’s eyes never left hers as the numbers ticked down. 7… 6… 5…

His hand cupped her cheek, his thumb brushing gently against her skin. 4… 3… 2…

“Happy New Year,” he murmured, his lips hovering just inches from hers.

The clock struck midnight, and the room exploded into celebration. But Y/n barely noticed. All she could focus on was the way Lando was looking at her, the way his breath mingled with hers, the way his body pressed against her own.

“Happy New Year,” she whispered back, her heart pounding in her chest.

And then, slowly, almost hesitantly, he closed the distance between them, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was soft and tentative at first, but quickly deepened into something more—something filled with longing and passion and all the unspoken things between them. Her hands slid up to cup his face, and she kissed him back with everything she had, finally letting herself give in to the feelings she’d been fighting for so long.

When they finally pulled apart, their foreheads rested together, their breaths uneven. “Y/n,” he said, his voice trembling slightly. “I—”

Lando’s breath was still uneven, his forehead pressed against hers as if he couldn’t bear to pull away completely. His hands moved from her shoulders to her waist, fingers curling possessively into the soft fabric of her dress. “Y/n,” he murmured again, his voice low and rough with emotion. He didn’t finish whatever he had been about to say. Instead, he tilted his head, capturing her lips in another kiss—this one deeper, hungrier, more insistent.

Her hands slid up his chest, feeling the rapid thud of his heartbeat beneath her palms. She kissed him back with equal fervor, her body responding instinctively to his touch. When he finally pulled away, she was breathless, her cheeks flushed and her lips slightly swollen.

“You…” he began, but trailed off, his eyes searching hers for something. Whatever it was, he seemed to find it, because a slow, satisfied smile spread across his face. “You have no idea what you do to me.”

She opened her mouth to respond, but before she could, his lips were on hers again, his hands roaming over her body as if he needed to memorize every curve. His fingers trailed down her sides, brushing the hem of her dress before sliding underneath to trace patterns on her bare skin. She shivered at the sensation, a soft gasp escaping her lips.

“Cold?” he teased, his voice warm against her ear. She shook her head, unable to form words as his hands continued their exploration. He pressed kisses along her jawline, his lips grazing the sensitive spot just below her ear that made her knees go weak. Her fingers tightened in the fabric of his shirt, anchoring herself as she felt her resolve beginning to crumble.

“Lando,” she whispered, her voice trembling. But instead of stopping, he only intensified his efforts, his lips moving lower to trail kisses down her neck. His hands tightened around her waist, pulling her closer until there was no space between them.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured against her skin, his breath hot and sending shivers down her spine. “I can’t stop looking at you. Can’t stop touching you.” His hands slid lower, resting on her hips for a moment before one dipped lower, brushing the curve of her ass. She froze, her breath catching in her throat.

“Is this okay?” he asked softly, his voice laced with both desire and concern. She nodded, barely trusting herself to speak. The feel of his hand on her ass sent a jolt of electricity through her body, igniting something deep within her. He squeezed gently, testing her reaction, and when a small moan escaped her lips, he grinned against her skin.

“God, I love the sounds you make,” he whispered, his voice rougher now, filled with an intensity that made her heart race. His hand explored further, gripping her ass firmly this time, and another moan slipped past her lips before she could stop it. The sound seemed to embolden him, and he pressed another searing kiss to her lips.

“You’re perfect,” he breathed between kisses. “Everything about you… perfect.” His lips moved lower, trailing kisses across her collarbone and down to the edge of her dress. The neckline was low, exposing just enough skin to drive him wild, and he wasted no time in pressing his lips to the soft swell of her chest.

Y/n’s breath hitched, her fingers tangling in his hair as he kissed her there, each press of his lips sending waves of heat through her body. She could feel the tension building, coiling tight in her core, and she knew she was losing control. But for the first time, she didn’t care. She wanted this—wanted him—more than anything.

His tongue flicked out, teasing her skin, and she let out another soft moan, her body arching towards him involuntarily. He chuckled darkly, the sound vibrating against her skin, and she felt a surge of confidence at the way he reacted to her.

“You like that?” he asked, his voice muffled against her chest. She nodded, too overwhelmed to speak. He kissed her again, his lips lingering longer this time, before lifting his head to look at her. His eyes were filled with desire, and she could see the same need reflected in them that she felt burning inside her.

Lando’s lips moved to her ear, his breath warm and teasing. “You have no idea what you do to me,” he whispered, his voice low and husky, sending shivers down her spine. His hands traced the curve of her waist, their bodies were pressed together, the heat between them almost unbearable. Y/n could feel the hard outline of his desire against her, and it made her pulse quicken.

“I’ve wanted this for so long,” he continued, his lips brushing against the shell of her ear. “Wanted you. Every time I see you, it’s all I can think about. How beautiful you are. How much I need to touch you, to taste you.” He kissed her neck softly, his teeth grazing her skin just enough to make her gasp.

Y/n’s hands gripped his shoulders, her nails digging into the fabric of his shirt. She was losing herself in him, in the way he spoke, in the way he touched her. It was overwhelming, but she didn’t want it to stop. “Lando…” she breathed, her voice trembling with need.

He pulled back slightly, just enough to look into her eyes. His gaze was intense, filled with a mixture of adoration and hunger. “Tell me what you want,” he said again, his voice soft but commanding. “Tell me, and it’s yours.”

She hesitated for a moment, her heart racing. But then she leaned in, her lips brushing against his as she whispered, “I want you. All of you.”

A slow, satisfied smile spread across Lando’s face, and he cupped her cheek in his hand. “You have me,” he murmured before capturing her lips in a deep, passionate kiss. His tongue slid against hers, exploring every inch of her mouth as if he was memorizing her. His hands roamed her body, leaving trails of fire wherever they touched.

The party faded into the background, the music and laughter becoming nothing more than a distant hum. All that mattered was the two of them, the way they fit together, the way their bodies moved in sync. Lando’s hands slipped lower, gripping her hips as he pulled her even closer, his hardness pressing against her stomach.

When they finally broke apart, both of them were breathing heavily. Lando rested his forehead against hers, his eyes closed as if savoring the moment. “Come home with me,” he whispered, his voice barely audible over the noise of the party.

Y/n’s heart skipped a beat. She knew what he was asking, knew where this would lead. And yet, there was no hesitation in her answer. “Yes,” she said simply, her voice steady despite the storm of emotions inside her.

Lando’s smile was radiant, and he took her hand in his, lacing their fingers together. They slipped out of the party unnoticed, the cool night air hitting them as they stepped outside. Lando led her to his car, opening the door for her with a gentlemanly charm that made her smile.

The drive to his apartment was quiet, the tension between them palpable. Y/n could feel Lando’s eyes on her every now and then, his gaze burning with desire. She kept her eyes on the road, her mind racing with anticipation. What would happen when they got there? Would she be able to handle the intensity of his feelings? The depth of her own?

When they finally arrived, Lando parked the car and turned to her, his hand reaching out to cup her cheek. “Are you sure about this?” he asked, his voice soft but serious.

Y/n met his gaze, her heart pounding in her chest. “I’m sure,” she said, her voice steady despite the whirlwind of emotions inside her.

Lando smiled, his thumb brushing against her cheek. “Good,” he murmured before leaning in to kiss her gently. Then he got out of the car and came around to open her door, taking her hand in his as they walked to the elevator.

The ride up to his apartment seemed to take forever, the silence between them filled with unspoken words and promises. When the doors finally opened, Lando led her down the hallway to his door, unlocking it and stepping aside to let her in.

His apartment was modern and sleek, just like she had imagined. But she didn’t have time to take it all in before Lando’s arms were around her, his lips crashing down on hers in a kiss that left her breathless. She responded eagerly, her hands tangling in his hair as she pulled him closer.

Lando’s hands moved to the zipper of her dress, slowly pulling it down as he kissed her neck, his lips trailing hot kisses along her skin. The dress fell to the floor, pooling at her feet, leaving her standing in nothing but her black lace underwear. Lando’s eyes darkened as he took her in, his gaze roaming over her body with undisguised hunger.

“You’re so beautiful,” he murmured, his voice thick with desire. He reached out, his fingers tracing the curve of her hip before moving up to cup her breast. Her breath hitched as his thumb brushed over her nipple, sending sparks of pleasure through her.

He leaned down, his lips closing over her other nipple, his tongue swirling around the sensitive peak. Y/n moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as waves of pleasure washed over her. Lando alternated between sucking and licking, his hands exploring every inch of her body as if he couldn’t get enough of her.

“Lando…” she gasped, her head falling back as his mouth moved lower, kissing a trail down her stomach. His hands gripped her hips, holding her steady as he knelt in front of her, his eyes filled with longing.

“I want to taste every part of you,” he whispered, his breath hot against her skin.

Lando’s breath hitched as he pulled Y/n's panties down, his eyes widening at the sight before him. “Fuck,” he muttered under his breath, his voice thick with hunger. She was soaking wet, her arousal glistening in the dim light of the room. Her pussy was flushed and dripping, and Lando felt like he might lose his mind just looking at her.

He glanced up at her, a devilish smirk playing on his lips. “Is this because of me?” he teased, his fingers lightly brushing over her slick folds. Y/n let out a sharp gasp, her hips arching toward his touch involuntarily. Lando chuckled darkly, his thumb circling her clit slowly, deliberately. “You love playing hard to get, but in reality, you’re desperate for me as much as I am for you, baby.”

Y/n’s cheeks flushed, but she couldn’t deny the truth in his words. Her body betrayed her, trembling under his touch, her core aching for more. “Lando…” she whispered, her voice breathless and pleading.

“Tell me,” he demanded, his fingers still teasing her, just barely touching where she needed him most. “Tell me how much you want me.”

She bit her lip, trying to hold back the whimper that threatened to escape. “I… I want you,” she admitted, her voice shaking. “So much.”

Lando’s grin widened, and he leaned forward, pressing a soft kiss to her inner thigh. “Good girl,” he murmured, his breath hot against her skin. His mouth moved closer to her center, and Y/n’s breath caught in her throat. She could feel his tongue flicking lightly against her, tasting her, savoring her.

“God, you’re delicious,” he groaned, his hands gripping her thighs to keep her spread open for him. He licked a long stripe up her slit, and Y/n moaned loudly, her hands flying to grip the sheets beneath her. “Lando!”

He didn’t hesitate, diving in with an intensity that left her gasping. His tongue swirled around her clit, slow and deliberate at first, then faster, harder. Y/n’s back arched off the bed, her legs trembling uncontrollably. “Oh my God…” she whimpered, her fingers tangling in his hair.

Lando hummed against her, the vibration sending shockwaves of pleasure through her body. He slipped two fingers inside her, curling them just right, and Y/n cried out, her hips bucking against his face. “Yes, yes, yes!” she chanted, her entire body coiled tight with tension.

He continued to devour her, his tongue and fingers working in perfect harmony, driving her closer and closer to the edge. Y/n’s moans grew louder, more desperate, her body writhing beneath him. “Please, Lando, please!” she begged, her nails digging into his scalp.

“Come for me, baby,” he urged, his voice rough with desire. “Let go. I want to feel you come undone.”

And she did. The orgasm crashed over her like a tidal wave, her body convulsing as she screamed his name. Lando didn’t let up, licking and sucking her through it until she was a trembling, boneless mess beneath him.

When he finally pulled away, Y/n was gasping for air, her chest heaving as she tried to catch her breath. Lando wiped his mouth with the back of his hand, his eyes hungry as he looked down at her. “You’re so fucking beautiful when you come,” he said, his voice low and husky.

Y/n blushed, still reeling from the intensity of her climax. “Lando… that was…” she trailed off, unable to find the words.

He grinned, crawling up her body to hover over her. “Just wait,” he whispered, his lips brushing against hers. “We’re just getting started.”

His kiss was deep and searing, and Y/n could taste herself on his tongue. It should have been strange, but instead, it only fueled her desire. Her hands roamed over his chest, feeling the hard planes of his muscles beneath her fingertips. She wanted him—all of him.

Lando broke the kiss, his eyes locking onto hers. “I need you, Y/n,” he said, his voice raw with emotion. “Not just your body. All of you.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and she nodded, her eyes welling with tears. “I need you too,” she admitted, her voice barely above a whisper.

He smiled softly, brushing a strand of hair away from her face. “Then let me show you how much you mean to me,” he said, his hand sliding down to grip his cock, positioning himself at her entrance.

Y/n’s breath hitched as she felt the tip of him pressing against her, and she wrapped her legs around his waist, pulling him closer. “Please,” she begged, her body already craving him.

Lando hesitated for a moment, his eyes searching hers. “Are you sure?” he asked, his voice gentle.

She nodded, her hands moving to cup his face. “I’ve never been more sure of anything,” she whispered.

With that, Lando pushed into her slowly, inch by inch, giving her time to adjust to his size. Y/n’s eyes fluttered shut, a soft moan escaping her lips as she felt him fill her completely. “You’re so tight,” he groaned, his forehead resting against hers.

They stayed like that for a moment, both of them breathing heavily, savoring the connection between them. Then Lando began to move, his thrusts slow and deep, each one sending waves of pleasure coursing through Y/n’s body.

“God, you feel amazing,” he whispered, his hands gripping her hips as he picked up the pace. Y/n’s moans grew louder, her nails digging into his back as she urged him on.

Their bodies moved together in perfect sync, their breaths mingling as they lost themselves in each other. Y/n could feel another orgasm building, stronger than the last, and she clung to Lando, her cries of pleasure filling the room.

“Come with me, baby,” Lando growled, his thrusts becoming more frantic. Y/n nodded, her body tightening around him as she tumbled over the edge once again. Lando followed soon after, his release spilling into her as he buried his face in the crook of her neck.

For a moment, they stayed like that, their hearts racing, their bodies still intertwined. Then Lando pulled out, collapsing beside her and pulling her into his arms.

“That was…” Y/n began, but Lando cut her off with a kiss.

“Perfect,” he finished, his fingers tracing patterns on her bare skin. “You’re perfect.”

Y/n smiled, snuggling closer to him. “So are you,” she whispered, her eyes closing as exhaustion began to take over. She could feel Lando’s arms tighten around her, and for the first time in a long time, she felt safe, cherished, loved.

The room was quiet except for the soft hum of their breathing, tangled together in the aftermath of passion. Lando’s fingers trailed lazily up and down Y/n’s arm, his touch leaving a trail of warmth that made her shiver. She rested her head on his chest, listening to the steady rhythm of his heartbeat, her own still fluttering from what had just transpired between them.

“You okay?” Lando murmured, his voice low and rough, sending a ripple of heat through her. His hand paused on her shoulder, fingertips brushing against her skin as if he couldn’t stop touching her.

Y/n tilted her head to look at him, a small smile playing on her lips. “More than okay,” she admitted, her voice soft but sure. “That was… incredible.”

Lando grinned, the kind of grin that made her stomach tighten in the most delicious way. “Good,” he said simply, because what else was there to say? His fingers resumed their slow exploration, tracing circles over her shoulder now, the touch tender, almost reverent. “Because I plan on making it even better next time.”

She laughed, a light, breathy sound that made his chest swell with pride. “Confident, are we?”

“With you?” Lando leaned in, his lips brushing against her ear as he whispered, “Always.” The warmth of his breath sent a shiver down her spine, and she instinctively pressed closer to him, craving more of his touch, more of him.

They fell into a comfortable silence again, the weight of what had just happened settling over them. It wasn’t just the physical connection—though that had been earth-shattering—it was the emotional one too. Y/n could feel it, this undeniable pull toward him, something deeper than attraction, something that scared her a little but also filled her with a strange sense of peace.

Lando broke the silence first, his voice softer now, more serious. “Hey,” he started, his fingers stilling on her back. “Can I ask you something?”

Y/n shifted slightly so she could meet his gaze. His eyes were dark, intense, and they held hers with an intensity that made her heart skip a beat. “Of course,” she replied, her voice a little steadier than she felt.

He hesitated for a moment, as if choosing his words carefully. “Why did you keep pushing me away?” he asked finally, his tone gentle, not accusing. “All those months, all those gifts… I thought…” He trailed off, shaking his head slightly. “I guess I just want to understand why it took so long for you to let me in.”

Y/n exhaled slowly, her mind racing. She hadn’t expected this. Not now, not after everything they’d just shared. But she owed him honesty, didn’t she? They were past the point of pretenses.

“I was scared,” she admitted quietly, her eyes dropping to where her fingers fiddled with the edge of the sheet. “Scared of getting hurt, scared of… of not being enough for someone like you.”

Lando frowned, his hand lifting to cup her cheek, forcing her to look at him again. “Y/n,” he said her name with such tenderness it nearly stole her breath. “You’re more than enough. You’re everything. Don’t you see that?”

Her throat tightened, emotions swirling inside her like a storm she couldn’t control. “It’s not just that,” she continued, her voice trembling now. “Your life… it’s so different from mine. You’re this famous, successful man, and I’m just… ordinary. And your past—all those women—it made me think maybe I was just another conquest to you.”

Lando’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. “You’re not ordinary,” he said firmly. “And my past… yeah, I’ve made mistakes. But none of them meant anything. Not like this. Not like you.” He paused, his gaze searching hers. “Do you believe me?”

Y/n nodded, tears pricking at the corners of her eyes. “I do,” she whispered. “I just… I needed to know you were serious about me. That this wasn’t just some fling for you.”

“It’s not,” Lando assured her, his voice steady, unwavering. “I’ve never been more serious about anyone in my life. And I want this—us—to be real.”

She blinked, surprised by the raw sincerity in his words. “You really mean that?”

“Every word,” he replied without hesitation. “And I want to prove it to you. Properly. Will you go on a date with me? A real one, no pressure, just… you and me.”

Y/n felt a smile tug at her lips, despite the tears still threatening to fall. “A date, huh?” she teased, her voice lightening as she wiped at her eyes. “What, flowers and dinner and all that?”

Lando chuckled, the sound rich and warm. “If that’s what you want, then yes. But honestly, I’d take you anywhere, as long as it means I get to spend time with you.”

She pretended to consider it, tapping her chin thoughtfully. “Hmm… tempting. Very tempting.”

His grin widened, his hand slipping around her waist to pull her closer. “Is that a yes?” he asked, his tone hopeful, his eyes sparkling with mischief.

Y/n feigned reluctance, though her heart was already racing at the thought. “I don’t know… you’ll have to convince me.”

Lando’s laughter filled the room, and before she could react, he rolled her beneath him, his body pressing hers into the mattress. “Oh, I’ll convince you, alright,” he murmured, his lips grazing her neck in a way that made her gasp. “Starting right now.”

She giggled, squirming beneath him, though her hands found their way to his shoulders, holding him close. “You’re insatiable,” she accused, though there was no real bite to her words.

“Only for you,” he replied, his lips capturing hers in a kiss that was both tender and possessive, leaving her breathless when he finally pulled away. “So? Date night?”

Y/n sighed, pretending to weigh her options, though she knew her answer already. “Fine,” she said with mock exasperation. “But only if you promise to behave yourself.”

Lando smirked, his hand sliding down her side in a way that made her shiver. “No promises,” he quipped, leaning in to kiss her again, slower this time, more deliberate, as if he had all the time in the world.

When they broke apart, he rested his forehead against hers, his breathing uneven. “Thank you,” he whispered, the sincerity in his voice making her chest ache. “For giving me a chance.”

Y/n reached up to brush a strand of hair from his face, her heart swelling with emotion. “Thank you,” she replied softly. “For not giving up on me.”

They stayed like that for a moment, wrapped up in each other, the world outside forgotten. Then Lando cleared his throat, his lips quirking into a playful smirk. “So… since we’re officially dating now…”

She raised an eyebrow, already sensing where this was going. “Yes?”

Lando’s grin turned downright wicked. “Does that mean I can tell everyone you’re my girlfriend? Because, let me tell you, I’ve been dying to show you off.”

Y/n felt her cheeks flush, but she couldn’t help the laugh that bubbled up. “You’re ridiculous.”

“Maybe,” he conceded, leaning in to nip at her bottom lip. “But I’m yours. All yours.”

Her heart skipped a beat at his words, and before she could respond, he captured her lips in another searing kiss, one that left no doubt in her mind that he meant every word.

Lando’s lips lingered on hers, soft and sweet, before he pulled back just enough to whisper against her mouth. ”You know, I’ve been waiting for this moment for so long. For you.” His voice was low, almost reverent, and it sent a shiver down Y/n’s spine.

She tilted her head, her eyes narrowing playfully. ”Oh? And how many other girls have you said that to?” Her tone was teasing, but there was a hint of vulnerability beneath it, a question she hadn’t meant to ask but couldn’t hold back.

Lando’s expression softened, his thumb brushing over her cheekbone. ”None,” he said firmly, his gaze locked onto hers. ”Because none of them were you. None of them ever could be.”

Her breath hitched, and for a moment, she didn’t know how to respond. He was too much—too intense, too raw, too honest. It made her want to retreat, to shield herself from the way his words seemed to reach into her chest and wrap around her heart. But at the same time, she wanted to lean into it, to let herself feel everything he was offering.

Instead, she smirked, leaning back slightly. ”Careful, Lando. That almost sounded like a love confession.”

He blinked, then laughed, shaking his head. ”What if it was?”

Y/n froze, her playful demeanor faltering. ”What?”

His laughter faded, replaced by something far more serious. He cupped her face in his hands, his thumbs stroking her cheeks as his eyes searched hers. ”I said, what if it was? What if I told you I’m in love with you? Because I am. Completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love with you.”

The room seemed to tilt, her stomach doing somersaults as his words sank in. She stared at him, her mind racing. This wasn’t supposed to happen. Not yet. Not like this. She wasn’t ready for this kind of honesty, this kind of intensity. But as she looked into his eyes, she realized she didn’t have a choice. He’d already laid himself bare, and now it was her turn.

Still, old habits died hard, and she couldn’t resist falling back on her usual defense mechanism: teasing. ”In love with me?Really? After only one night together? That doesn’t sound very self-controlled of you.”

Lando groaned, dropping his forehead against hers. ”’Y/n… You’re killing me here.”

She grinned, feeling a little more in control now that she’d thrown him off balance. ”Am I? Because it seems like you’re the one who’s being all dramatic. ‘Completely, ridiculously, stupidly in love’? That’s quite the declaration.”

He lifted his head, his eyes narrowing slightly, though there was no real annoyance in his expression. ”You’re really going to tease me about this?”_

”Maybe,” she said with a shrug, her grin widening. ”Or maybe I just don’t believe you.”

That got a reaction. Lando’s hands slid down to her waist, pulling her closer until their bodies were pressed together. ”You don’t believe me?” he repeated, his voice dropping to a husky murmur. ”Then let me prove it to you.”

Before she could respond, his lips crashed onto hers, cutting off any retort she might have had. It wasn’t a gentle kiss—it was desperate, hungry, full of all the emotions he’d just confessed. His tongue swept into her mouth, claiming her in a way that left no room for doubt. She moaned softly, her hands gripping his shoulders as she kissed him back, her teasing forgotten in the heat of the moment.

When he finally pulled away, they were both breathing heavily. ”Now do you believe me?” he asked, his voice rough.

She bit her lip, trying to suppress the smile tugging at the corners of her mouth. ”Maybe,” she said again, though her tone was softer this time. ”But I think you might need to try harder to convince me.”

Lando groaned again, but there was a spark of amusement in his eyes. ”You’re impossible, you know that?”

”And yet here you are, declaring your undying love for me,” she shot back, her grin returning.

He shook his head, but he was smiling too. ”Yeah, well, I guess I’m a masochist.”

Y/n laughed, the sound light and carefree, and Lando’s heart swelled at the sight of her happiness. He’d do anything to keep that smile on her face, even if it meant putting up with her endless teasing.

They spent the next hour talking, laughing, and stealing kisses, neither of them willing to let the other go. Eventually, though, exhaustion began to creep in, and Y/n found herself stifling a yawn.

”Tired?” Lando asked, his fingers gently carding through her hair.

”A little,” she admitted, leaning into his touch.

”Come on, let’s get some rest,” he said, standing up and holding out his hand to her.

She hesitated for a moment, then took his hand, letting him lead her to the bedroom. They settled under the covers together, Lando wrapping his arms around her and pulling her close. ”Goodnight, Y/n,” he whispered, pressing a soft kiss to the top of her head.

”Goodnight, Lando,” she murmured back, her eyelids already drooping.

As she drifted off to sleep, surrounded by the warmth of his embrace, she couldn’t help but smile. Maybe, just maybe, she was starting to believe him after all.

[negrowhat]

Fave Kisses of 2024

Continuing on with the handful of prompts I chose to do from @babyangelsky 's 2024 QL Wrap Up!

JackJoke's First Kiss from Jack & Joker. Oh it was like the tension pot had finally started to boil. Just bubbling and brewing and steam was finally escaping...whistling even. Jack had returned home full on ready to finally confess and Joke, who already KNEW, was sitting there ready to receive his blessing. Oh Joke was so ready for that kiss that he practically climbed into Jack's lap to keep it going. You could see the hunger in Joke's eyes and Jack's eager but gentle approach to the kiss. 10/10.

Dohoe and Juyeong's Snow Kiss from Let Free the Curse of Taekwondo. Something about the way they kind of lost themselves in that kiss. I was shocked Dohoe kissed Juyeong out in the open like that, but he was in a different place in his journey so maybe it's not so shocking. Juyeong's hands around Dohoe's waist??? Oh it was my favorite part and my heart all but stopped when Dohoe suddenly came to his senses and pulled away.

GreatTyme's Guitar Kiss from 4 Minutes. That soft ass dream kiss from Dr. Tyme's 4 Minutes had me absolutely OBSESSED. Idk it was just so romantic and so sweet and so perfect. I could just feel the warmth coming from the bubble Tyme was dreaming about. Tyme's 4 Minutes is still my absolute fave part of the whole series.

Huai'en and Xiabao's First Kiss from Meet You At the Blossom. I've talked about it and talked about it and talked about it some more. None of y'all are surprised to see this kiss on this list. I don't even need to explain why because I'm sick of explaining lol. Go watch our first ever Uncensored Wuxia BL. Nothing is implied it's all there. Go watch it now! MYATB is from the same writer of My Stand-In if that helps.

Sickly Phaya kisses Tharn from The Sign. That man woke up from a coma (that almost supernaturally killed him), snatched out his IV, and escaped the hospital. And where did he go? Not to go check-in with his lil granny and baby sister! NO! He went to his man's house and shoved his tongue down his throat. Man was white as a sheet and all he wanted to do was get his dick wet. And Tharn just let him. I loved that kiss and the makeout session that followed.

YakDee over shoulder kiss from Wandee Goodday. Pretty certain it was from their last love scene because they were kissing. I don't even remember how the scene went exactly (they fucked so much) but that lil peck over the shoulder was so gorgeous. Yak had his chest pressed to Dee's back and the 'YY' necklace was displayed so clearly. 100/10.

XNamping's High Heat Encounter from Every You, Every Me. That little peck right before things started to heat up. Just a quick lil lip touch to gauge the temperature...y'know see if it's what they both really want. It is. I know X was FREAKING out, couldn't believe he was finally being intimate with his long time crush.

SanVee's final night kiss from Century of Love. I'm a huge fan of the soft cuddly kisses we got from SanVee and that snuggle session we got right before San's last day was my fave. The way San holds Vee to his chest so tightly as they share gentle kisses. The impending doom hanging heavy over their heads. It hurt so fucking good.

RyuZen's Shower Kiss from The Rebound. One thang MeenPing gon do is kiss in a shower and do it right. Meen's giant ass does a great job of making Ping look smol and when you add water to that it is just so visually pleasing. I don't remember much else about the kiss except Ryu was all over Zen and Zen almost couldn't keep up. If we get another MeenPing series I hope it can sit at the top next to Gangster Oppa.

2J Bathroom Kiss from CityBoy_Log. The most recent volume of CBL was really good for 2J. They had just made up after Jihan ghosted Jaejun and IDK how Jihan conned Jaejun into helping him bathe but they do wind up in the tub together, fully clothed though because Jaejun said he was just going to help him wash his hair. And the next thing I know Jihan has Jaejun pressed up against the shower wall. 2J's kisses tend to be very audible and this one was amplified and my gawd those boys can kiss. And when Jaejun slams Jihan against the other wall and they finally share their 'I Love You's I was clutching the pearls. I'm realizing I enjoyed CBL more than I thought.

SunJunior's First Kiss from Caged Again. Oh it was so sweet. Love that they were hiding under the covers. I love that Sun had finally told Junior about him being a panther. That's a big secret to share and it did give me Malec vibes which could also add to my love for the scene. Love that Junior smiled at Sun the whole time. It was a great first kiss during a vulnerable moment for Sun and Junior. Loved how warm and secure it looked under that cover.

To my mutuals, please forgive me if y'all have multiple mentions from this one post...

[everythingseasoning]

Love, forever?

vampire! suguru x reader

vampire! Suguru x reader. includes: a blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. New vampire lore. Angst: Suguru battling his inner demons, distancing himself from reader to protect her: we start off the story with heartbroken reader, and the emotionally oblivious, playful, talented and sexy vampire! Satoru going after reader (for reasons you’ll learn about in chapter 1). this story kinda has parallels to Geto’s canon angst as well. eventual smut.

Ch. 01 Teaser // NOTE: if you saw the teaser already, I’ve edited it a lot and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;) feel free to read it again, I recommend that.

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the heaviness in your heart would be soon forgotten. Yogurt, sherbert, coca cola, and cheap alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes.

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?”

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat to see such a beautiful stranger.

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, smiling, chuckling as you braid his hair, reading a nonfiction book while your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; Holding you as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right again.

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fucking dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace— being fucking cared for— you missed him bad, with every fiber of your being.

He’s still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and still, you came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following?

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply.

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party.

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming.

“And you are?”

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go to a different university. A better one.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?”

The stranger, Satoru, just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky stranger. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

The stranger, Satoru, waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?”

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man, back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him.

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” the stranger says.

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your attention is elsewhere.

You’re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with.

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. Confusion, hurt, anger, betrayal— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear. “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat.

“Hm.”

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking—

And he’s gone.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle.

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue, spitting it out back into the bottle.

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam.

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs.

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, man?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru doesn’t notice, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper. “And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love— loved her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d miss.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru.

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They did. Something the myths forgot though— vampires always have some sort of change written in their eyes. There will be some sort of difference from their human form, hidden in their eyes, after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy. That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. Rich amethyst irises gaze back at Suguru. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness.

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave, but the blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly.

“So,” Satoru speaks with the chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were with her for a year, doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires.

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand.

Satoru presses on anyway, nodding like he’s bored.

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget. You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.”

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. But you’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.” Ah. The truth comes out.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes.

“Satoru. First off, I only feed when they consent first. We both do that, and compel them to forget. And my ex, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out.

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching.

“Well. I need to feed again.”

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot.

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His veins buzz with electricity, and he knows: he is still very much alive despite the coldness to his skin, the lack of a heartbeat in his chest. What else could you call the rush, the thrill he’s got right now, except living? His urge to feed has grown exponentially.

He slips through the shadows.

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you.

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

If Satoru was being honest, this was perfect. The golden chance to get Suguru to forget about you and move on, so his best friend could finally look and be alive again, the two of them happily slaying the vampires that hurt humans— this chance just seems to have fallen into Satoru’s hands like a magic star that grants his wish.

“Hey,” he nearly purrs, slinking around you as you take a step forward— stumbling a bit— cold fingers grip you firmly, holding you upright.

“You’re fucking making me freeze even more!” You retort, snapping at him as you yank your warm arm away from his cool grasp. You were more than tipsy, but you recalled his rudeness from earlier.

“Just trying to help. You sure aren’t shy, huh?” Satoru remarks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spit out, the question giving you both Deja vu.

“It means what it means,” Satoru grins. Deja-fucking-vu. You were getting fed up now, huffing and mumbling under your alcohol-tinged breath an insult that Satoru’s super hearing picks up on. He stifles a laugh.

“Wait,” Satoru calls out. You don’t turn around or slow your pace. He strides up to you in two quick, lengthy steps. He bends, entering your vision, his teeth sharp and protruding from his close lipped smile. Were they always that long?

“I’m great at reading people. And as much as you want to deny it, your heart is beating faster around me.” He suppresses his urge to poke your ribcage, directly over the beating muscle.

“Shut up,” you growl.

“You could make me, you know.”

He keeps up with your sluggish pace as you try to make your way back to the dorms, struggling to reply.

“There you go again with that cliche flirting,” you snort.

“And here I am again, asking if you’re offering lessons. Though the better question would be if you’re even qualified to give them,” Satoru grins.

“What do you want from me? Don’t you think it’s weird to be flirting with your best friend’s ex?”

You think this will shut him up. That, or he’ll have a lame excuse. And for the first time in this second conversation you’re having with him, his answer changes.

“If I’m being honest,” he speaks in a rich, velvety, low voice, and you almost feel entranced, your feed stopping, your gaze resting on Satoru. “I’m doing this for him. And about what I want?”

You sway in the chilly night breeze, barely registering anything but the sound of his voice.

“I want to know if you’d let me bite you.”

Do not plagiarize my writing in any way. Do not feed my writing to ai.

Comment to be on the taglist :)! Sharing your thoughts are appreciated!!!

[pbaz7]

AGAINST THE TIDE — PART TWO

paige x azzi

warnings: language

word count: 4.8k

A/N: Here’s the next chapter!! It’s another chap of me setting the scene so bear with me. The next chapters when Azzi officially gets on campus will have more interaction between them. I’m also not sure how I feel about the 1st person POV so I might stop after this who knows. Anywho let me know what you think and leave comments and live reactions if you can!! Happy New Year everyone 🥳

—————————————————————————

July 2019 - Paige POV

I was deep into my basketball workout, the sound of the ball echoing through the gym as I went through the drills with precision. My trainer standing by the sideline, coaching me through each movement — footwork, ball-handling, shot mechanics. I was lost in the rhythm of it all, my mind focused solely on the next move, the next shot, just as I did every offseason.

But then, something on the TV caught my attention.

The US 3x3 tournament was on — I hadn't been paying too much attention to it, but I always found time for basketball, no matter who was playing. It was in my blood. I just loved the game at all levels.

My focus slipped for a second as I looked over at the screen, noticing the score was a little close. Then I saw Azzi.

I froze, the ball bouncing softly at my side as I watched everything unfold. One minute, she was pushing through the defense, looking like she was about to make a play, and the next, she was on the floor. Her knee buckled awkwardly, and I saw her fall, immediately clutching it. The pain was clear as day on her face.

"Oh fuck," I muttered under my breath, the word escaping before I could stop it. My trainer immediately moving toward the TV to turn the volume up.

The announcers' voices filled the gym, sharp with concern. "All of a sudden there’s concern for the health of one of the best high schoolers in the country. We can only hope Azzi Fudd is able to walk out of here on her own which will be a good sign for all the viewers who I’m sure are holding their breath as this all unfolds." One said, the gravity of the situation weighing heavily in his tone.

I couldn’t tear my eyes away from the screen as Azzi stayed down, her face twisted in pain, tears welling in her eyes as the camera zoomed in on her. I hate when they do that shit.

I didn’t particularly like Azzi. She was too passive for my liking, not nearly as fiery or intense as I thought a player should be. Especially someone of her caliber. Plus she fouled the hell out of me for no reason that one time. But seeing her in that kind of pain? That wasn’t something I could enjoy. Despite all the rivalry, despite everything, I hated seeing anyone get hurt.

For all our back-and-forth, the trash talk, the competitiveness that had grown between us, I never wanted to see her hurt. She had just had an incredible season, her name up there with the best in the country — and now, it could all come crashing down in a second. This injury could change everything for her, just like that.

I was snapped out of my thoughts when my trainer asked, “You think she’s going to be ight?”

I didn’t answer right away. I just stood there, watching as they helped Azzi off the court, her face still contorted in pain as she limped off. It hit me kinda hard — this was a big deal, and despite everything that had happened on the court between us, I couldn’t help but feel for her.

“Yeah,” I muttered. "I’m sure she’ll bounce back."

After that the gym felt a little different now. The ball didn’t bounce as loudly, and the drill didn’t seem as important. All I could think about was how quickly things could change in an instant. How that could have been me. How it could still be me.

…

Later that night, laying in bed, Paige aimlessly scrolled through social media. Her feed was flooded with news of Azzi's injury. It was everywhere. All anyone seemed to be talking about was the #1 player in the class of 2021 tearing both her ACL and MCL after her incredible sophomore year. Paige had to admit, it hit her in a way she wasn’t prepared for. She had seen Azzi's growth first-hand the few times they’d played — her rise to stardom, the awards, and now, this. The thought of the rivalry they'd shared now feeling so... empty... nagged at her.

Paige knew that she’d see St. John’s again twice next year but something about the thought of no Azzi in the mix made it not as exciting. Without Azzi, there wouldn’t be any real competition left. Their games had been some of the most intense, back-and-forth battles she’d ever played in, and now that felt like it was over. There was no way Azzi would be back before the playoffs next year.

Paige’s fingers hovered over her phone screen as her mind wandered. She didn’t know why she was doing this, but she found herself scrolling through her contacts, looking for Azzi's number. They’d played together on the U16 team and Paige had everyone’s number from the team saved after they insisted on having a groupchat. She tapped it and paused, unsure of what to say, knowing if she was in Azzi’s shoes no words would ease whatever she was feeling. Still she sent a message anyway.

You'll bounce back. It's just a setback Fudd.

She stared at the message, fingers hovering for a moment before hitting send. She didn’t expect a response. What was she even doing? Azzi probably didn’t even want to hear from her, they didn’t even like each other. But it felt wrong to just leave it at that — to not acknowledge what Azzi was going through. She knew the girl after all.

With a heavy sigh, Paige set her phone down and went to brush her teeth to get ready for bed. She didn’t really expect a response back.

But when she returned, phone in hand, her screen illuminated, signaling a new notification.

Thank you, means a lot.

Paige typed a quick reply: Anytime.

Then she put her phone on the nightstand, settling into bed as she turned on a WNBA game.

November 2019

Azzi sat at the end of the bench, her leg throbbing slightly beneath the brace, trying to make sense of the game she’d just watched. Her team had been outclassed from the jump, and without her on the floor, it felt like they had no chance. Paige of course had been unstoppable—37 points, and the craziest part was, she didn’t touch the floor the whole fourth quarter. It was almost embarrassing to watch.

When the buzzer finally rang, signaling the end of the game, Azzi’s shoulders slumped and she sighed in relief that it was over. She didn’t even look at the scoreboard; it didn’t matter. She stayed seated as her teammates lined up to shake hands with the Gonzaga players. The energy in the gym was deflated—everyone had known the outcome was a foregone conclusion the moment the game tipped off.

As Azzi adjusted her knee brace and slowly stood up, she was surprised to see Paige walking toward her.

The other players from Gonzaga hadn’t thought to come over and shake her hand, but Paige didn’t hesitate. She offered Azzi a quick high five, her face a mix of competitiveness and something else. Azzi raised an eyebrow, taken aback by the gesture but unwilling to show any emotion to the blonde in front of her.

Paige’s voice was light, almost teasing. “What’s that, 4-1 now, Fudd?”

Azzi couldn’t help but scoff. “You didn’t talk shit the whole game,” she said, eyes narrowing. “You just had to come over here and ruin it, didn't you?”

Paige laughed, a playful glint in her eyes. As she turned to walk away, she tossed over her shoulder, “No comp to talk shit to on the court that’s all.”

Azzi watched her go, a mix of annoyance and begrudging admiration in her chest. Paige had a way of making things look easy, and even though Azzi hated it and hated how she acted, she couldn’t deny it—Paige was damn good.

March 2020 - Paige’s POV

I was sitting on the edge of my bed, my head in my hands, stomach in knots. My phone sat next to me, buzzing with more notifications I couldn’t bring myself to check. The championship game we’d worked so damn hard for, the perfect season we’d earned — all of it, gone. Just like that.

CoVid-19 had canceled the last game, and I couldn’t wrap my mind around it. It felt like a bad dream. The end of my high school career. Just like that, like a snap of a few fingers. Kind of funny how life is in that way.

We had been unstoppable. Undefeated. We were supposed to go out on top. I was supposed to walk off that court with my teammates, with that championship trophy, the culmination of all the hard work and sacrifice after losing last year. But now, it was all over, and I was left with nothing but this empty feeling in my chest.

It felt wrong, especially after the season I’d had. Gatorade Female High School Athlete of the Year. Gatorade National Player of the Year. Naismith Prep Player of the Year. Morgan Wootten National Player of the Year. I was on the cover of SLAM, for fucks sake. A McDonald’s All-American. I was supposed to play in the Jordan Brand Classic. The championship with my team was supposed to be the last piece of the puzzle. And now it was just... taken from me. From all of us.

I wasn’t the only one feeling it, but that didn’t make it any easier. My teammates were crushed, too. We all were. We’d worked for this. We had dreams about our comeback season, and now they were dashed. I just couldn’t understand how everything had unraveled so quickly.

It wasn’t just about the game, though. It was everything that came with it. The way everything seemed to be falling into place too quickly. My future at UConn was waiting, but it felt like the rug had been pulled out from under me before I was ready. All of a sudden, the world felt uncertain even though I knew exactly where I was headed for the next four years.

I tried not to think about the stuff I’d lose, like the last game I was supposed to play, the players I was supposed to compete against, and the milestones I was supposed to hit with my team. Instead, I kept thinking about what was next.

The only thing I could do right now was work. There was no championship trophy to hold, no fans to cheer for me, but that didn’t mean I couldn’t still prepare.

So, I grabbed my shoes and headed to the gym. I knew there was no real closure here. Not right now, so it was pointless to get in my feelings about it. Pointless to sit around and be sad. There was still a season ahead of me, more basketball to play. College was waiting now.

…

The gym was quiet except for the sound of basketballs bouncing. Paige was working through her shots, focused as she tested her range and worked on different combo moves. She wasn’t expecting company, everything was shut down. Her thoughts were elsewhere—on the future, not on what had been taken from her. The weight of losing her senior season to the pandemic still hung over her, though she didn’t let it show in her work.

Then, she heard the faint sound of footsteps behind her. She pulled off her headphones and turned around, surprised to see Azzi standing there. It had been about seven months since Azzi’s knee injury, and seeing her standing there in person was different from seeing her in a game. The two of them never really spoke outside of playing one another, and the awkwardness of the situation wasn’t lost on either of them.

Azzi paused when their eyes met. “My bad, didn’t know anyone was here,” she said, clearly about to turn and leave. The gym was small and only half a court and she didn’t want to deal with whatever Paige had to say today.

Paige shook her head in disagreement, clearly not phased by her presence. “It’s cool. You don’t need to leave.”

Azzi hesitated before nodding and walking over to the bench, sitting down to put on her basketball shoes. Paige returned to shooting. Once Azzi had finished getting ready, she stood up, stretched, and grabbed a ball. Paige was still shooting when she glanced over taking off her headphones again.

“How’s the knee?” Paige asked before she could stop herself, looking down at the black sleeve covering Azzi’s right leg. Her voice broke the silence, and Azzi looked at her, surprised by the blonde speaking to her.

“It’s a work in progress,” Azzi replied, her tone softer than Paige had ever heard. It was clear she was still recovering, but she didn’t seem too eager to talk about it.

Paige simply hummed in response, turning back to the basket. Neither of them said much after that.

Paige continued to go through her drills as Azzi worked on her shots, most of them swishing effortlessly through the net, though she was missing more than usual. Paige, focused as always, didn’t really think too much about what the other girl had going on. After a while of silence, Azzi turned to her.

“Congrats on all your awards, by the way,” Azzi said, her voice genuine, even if it came out a little unexpectedly and awkwardly. Paige nodded, briefly acknowledging it with a half smile. There wasn’t much more to say—her accomplishments had all come in a season that felt incomplete, and she didn’t really wanna think about that right now.

Then, on a rebound, Azzi’s ball went a little further than expected, and Paige jogged to retrieve it, having been closer as she was getting some water. Azzi watched her and when Paige came back, she passed Azzi the ball without a word.

That was the turning point. Instead of keeping to their separate routines, they began to shoot together. Azzi rebounded for Paige, and Paige did the same for Azzi. They moved around the court, each shot a natural rhythm as they stepped into the pass. The way they moved, the way they passed and shot, was effortless, like they had done this a thousand times before. Neither said a word as they shot, they were just happy to not have to run after their own rebound every two seconds. The ease between them told a story of mutual respect even though it was usually clear they weren’t too fond of each other.

The silence between them stretched on as Paige and Azzi continued to shoot. The rhythm of their movements, the swish of the net, and the soft thud of the ball bouncing were the only sounds filling the gym. They both seemed absorbed in their own thoughts as they passed the ball back and forth.

After some time, Paige’s phone kept buzzing so she glanced at the clock. She had been there longer than she’d planned, and she remembered telling Drew she’d take him to the movies. So she reluctantly made her way to the bench to take off her basketball shoes even though she hadn’t cleared her mind like she hoped. Azzi was still shooting, focused and intent, as if the ball and the hoop were the only things that mattered.

Paige bent down to untie her shoes, glancing up as she did. Azzi missed another shot, and the ball rolled off to the side. Paige grabbed it without thinking, tossing it back to Azzi with a casual flick of her wrist.

As the ball landed back in Azzi’s hands, Paige couldn’t help but notice the slight hesitation in Azzi’s movements, the way she seemed to favor her left leg a bit. Azzi took a moment before shooting again, but the ball missed again, clanging off the rim and bouncing awkwardly as the girl groaned in frustration.

Paige stood up, grabbing her shoes from the ground as she spoke. “You’re favoring your left side when you shoot now,” she said, her voice calm but observant. “That’s why your shot’s not falling. You gotta trust that your knee will be fine.”

Azzi paused, the ball resting in her hands as she processed the comment. Paige could see the wheels turning in Azzi’s mind, the realization slowly dawning on her. She didn’t reply, but Paige noticed the way she shifted her weight as she took a second shot, more thoughtfully this time as it went through the net.

Paige didn't linger, just headed toward the door. Azzi didn’t say anything more either, lost in her thoughts as she continued to shoot.

November 2020

Azzi had been wrestling with the decision for weeks. The pressure to commit was everywhere, with coaches, family, and even fans weighing in with their opinions. Narrowing her choices to UCLA, Maryland, and UConn had been easy enough—each school had its appeal.

Maryland offered familiarity. The hometown hero story would mean playing in front of her family and friends, building a legacy close to home. UCLA? Well, their facilities were out of this world, and the program was on the rise and it would be nice to be the player who brought them to the top. But UConn... UConn was something else entirely.

The school was synonymous with greatness. Azzi had grown up dreaming of wearing that blue and white jersey, playing under Geno Auriemma, and being part of a dynasty, of being a husky. There was no denying the opportunity to grow under one of the best coaches in basketball history.

But there was a large problem. Paige.

Azzi had only crossed paths with Paige a handful of times during their games, but each interaction had left a bad taste in her mouth. Paige Bueckers was an undeniable talent, but her confidence often read as arrogance. The way Paige carried herself—with that smirk and cocky demeanor—rubbed Azzi the wrong way every time. Could she really spend years as a teammate to someone who seemed so self-absorbed? She couldn’t imagine having to share the court with the girl let alone the ball that she would probably never pass to Azzi.

Azzi turned the thought over and over in her mind day after day, replaying memories of Paige’s antics during games, her posturing, the way the media fawned over her, the way she soaked it in. It was irritating. Still, Azzi decided she couldn’t let one person dictate her future. This was her dream, her opportunity to compete at the highest level, to win championships.

When Azzi made her commitment to UConn public, she felt a weight lift off her shoulders. The decision was made, and she was ready to face whatever came next—even Paige and all of her bullshit.

A couple of states away in Connecticut, Paige sat scrolling through her phone in the gym when the news broke. A tweet caught her eye, and as she opened it, her jaw nearly hit the floor.

"DMV’s Azzi Fudd, 2021 #1 Recruit Commits to University of Connecticut"

Paige stared at the screen, rereading the headline as if it would change. Her eyebrows shot up, and her eyes bulged in disbelief.

“What the fuck” Paige muttered to herself.

December 2020

During high school winter break Geno organized Azzi to come on a visit to meet the team before her official arrival. The visist had been going smoothly—almost perfectly, in fact. The facilities were incredible, Geno’s warmth and charisma made her feel valued, and the team seemed thrilled to have her there. Everything felt right. Everything except the glaring absence of Paige Bueckers.

It wasn’t like Azzi had come to the visit just to ‘officially’ meet Paige, but it would’ve been nice. Paige was clearly the face of the program now, the freshman star everyone raved about. If they were going to be teammates, Azzi figured they’d at least cross paths before she officially got to campus the upcoming summer. But so far, Paige had been conspicuously absent from all the introductions, the tour, and now the relaxed hangout in the dorm's common area.

The team was great, though. Christyn and Olivia, two of the team’s upperclassmen had gone out of their way to make Azzi feel comfortable, sharing stories about what it was like to play under Geno. Christyn was particularly funny, throwing in sarcastic comments about Olivia’s sometimes over-the-top pregame rituals.

Aaliyah, Nika, Saylor, and Piath—some of the freshmen—were a mix of energy and chaos. Nika’s personality was magnetic; she was constantly cracking jokes and pulling Azzi into the group’s banter. Aaliyah had a quieter, grounded presence, offering up thoughtful questions and laughing at Nika’s antics. Saylor and Piath added their own flair, with Saylor occasionally teasing Nika for her over-the-top expressions and Piath keeping things calm when the group got a little rowdy.

Then there was Aubrey, who was nestled between the older and younger players. She had an easygoing vibe, but there was something quietly sharp about her observations and she didn’t seem to talk much. But as the night wore on, Aubrey began to loosen up a bit and was leaning in to share a few inside jokes about the team dynamics here and there.

“You’ll like it here,” Aubrey said, nudging Azzi with her elbow. “Well, once you get used to all the chaos… and Paige.”

The mention of Paige brought the blonde’s absence into sharper focus. Azzi glanced toward the only closed door in the suite, making her assume it was Paige’s. Azzi had heard what sounded like the same game replaying over and over since she’d been in the suite coming from behind the closed door. She hadn’t thought much of it earlier, but now it felt a little deliberate that she hadn’t come out yet.

Evina noticed Azzi’s glance and sighed. “I’ll go get her,” she said, standing up and walking toward Paige’s door.

Before she could get there and knock, the door swung open. Paige emerged in a whirlwind, a granola bar clamped between her teeth, headphones slung around her neck, her phone in one hand, and her basketball shoes in the other.

“Hey, P,” Evina said, trying to stop her. “Come hang out for a bit. Azzi’s here.”

Paige grunted, barely making eye contact. “Can’t. Played like ass yesterday,” she mumbled around the granola bar before walking past everyone and out of the suite.

Azzi scoffed, unable to hold it in. It was hard not to take it personally. She didn’t know Paige well, but her quick exit felt more like an insult than anything else.

“No, don't take offense,” Evina said, noticing Azzi’s reaction. “Paige is… well, she’s Paige. You’ll get to know her. She’d live in the gym if we let her. Trust me, it’s not about you.”

Aubrey snorted from her spot on the couch. “Yeah I lost a bet and had to drag her out of there twice this week. First time, I turned the lights off. She didn’t even notice, or didn’t care. She just kept shooting until she got tired of me messing with her music and walked out.”

Azzi raised an eyebrow. “And the second time?”

“Had to practically carry her out,” Aubrey said with a laugh. “She gave up eventually, but only because I promised her Nika wouldn’t eat all the protein bars anymore.”

“I don’t eat all of them!” Nika protested loudly, drawing laughter from the group.

Azzi chuckled slightly but her irritation still lingered. Sure, Paige might be obsessive about basketball, but her absence still felt pointed with Azzi knowing the older girl didn’t like her. Azzi decided to ignore it though and as the night wore on, the team’s easy camaraderie pulled her in, and Azzi found herself genuinely liking everyone. Even looking forward to being here in the summer.

But Paige’s absence hung over everything, making it hard for Azzi to fully relax. When it got close to midnight and Paige still hadn’t returned, Nika, Aubrey, and Evina began debating who should go to the gym this time.

“I went twice already!” Aubrey said, throwing her hands up. “I’m not doing it again. I’d rather wrestle Olivia’s big ass for the remote.”

“You didn’t even try last yesterday,” Nika teased. “You just texted her and gave up and I had to go eventually.”

“Yeah, because she’s a weirdo when she’s like this.”

Evina groaned, standing up. “Fine shut up. I’ll go.”

Azzi watched as Evina grabbed her keys and headed out, her frustration bubbling to the surface again.

About thirty minutes later, the door to the suite swung open, and Evina stepped in, followed by a very irritated Paige. Azzi immediately noticed the tension as Paige, her hair sticking slightly to her forehead from sweat, strode in mid-sentence.

“It’s not that big of a fucking deal, E,” Paige muttered, clearly continuing a heated discussion the two had been having on their way back.

“It is a big deal,” Evina shot back, her voice calm but firm. “And you’re going to handle it. Now.”

Paige groaned dramatically, tossing her basketball shoes onto the floor by her room before following Evina inside. The door shut behind them, and for a brief moment, the suite was quiet.

Then came the muffled sounds of what was unmistakably yelling. Azzi wasn’t sure whether Paige or Evina was louder, but she could hear enough to piece together that Evina was getting on Paige about something.

The team, meanwhile, carried on as if this was perfectly normal, as if it was their routine. Aaliyah was fiddling with the remote trying to find a game, Aubrey was scrolling through her phone, and Christyn and Olivia were engaged in a debate over which snack brand had the best pretzels.

Eventually, the noise from Paige’s room stopped, and a few moments later, Evina emerged, her expression relaxed and a victorious smile playing on her lips. “She’ll be out soon,” she announced, as if this was some kind of accomplishment.

True to her word, a while later, Paige reappeared. She had swapped her clothes for a loose hoodie and joggers, her wet hair thrown over her shoulders. She glanced at Azzi, her blue eyes softening slightly.

“Hey,” Paige said, offering a small, almost sheepish smile. “Sorry for missing most of your visit. Welcome to UConn Azzi.”

Evina, leaning casually against the kitchen counter, watched the interaction with a knowing grin, as though she’d personally orchestrated this rare moment of civility.

Azzi blinked, caught off guard by Paige’s shift in demeanor. She nodded, her response clipped but polite. “It’s all good.”

Paige didn’t seem to notice Azzi’s hesitation—or if she did, she didn’t care. She flopped down onto the couch between Nika and Olivia with an exaggerated sigh, stretching her legs out and leaning her head against Nika’s shoulder.

“Welcome back to the land of the living twin,” Nika greeted her, her voice light and teasing.

Paige tilted her head, giving Nika a look that Azzi couldn’t quite decipher. It was like an entire conversation passed between them in a single expression. Nika burst out laughing, shaking her head as she nudged Paige playfully, making the blonde crack a smile as she leaned back on Nika’s shoulder.

The casual interaction threw Azzi off. For someone who’d seemed so intense and standoffish earlier, Paige was now practically melting into Nika. It was… strange.

Nika, Azzi had learned over the course of the evening, was one of the sweetest and most outgoing members of the team, always cracking jokes and making people feel included. On the surface, she and Paige couldn’t have been more different, yet here they were, leaning on each other like lifelong best friends.

Before Azzi could think too much about it, Christyn, who had been munching on a bag of chips, reached into the cabinet and tossed two protein bars at Paige, hitting her square in the chest.

“Eat,” Christyn ordered, her tone casual but firm. Paige barely reacted, opening one of the bars and shoving a piece of it in her mouth without a word.

Azzi couldn’t help but notice the dynamic. It was almost as if it was second nature for everyone to take care of Paige. Dragging her out of the gym, making sure she ate, looking out for her even when she seemed pissy about it.

It was strange to witness but oddly endearing picking up on how much they cared about each other. Azzi still wasn’t sure how Paige fit into the easygoing, tight-knit vibe of the rest of the team, but seeing her now—grumbling about snacks while slouching into Nika’s shoulder—it was clear there was more to her than Azzi had originally thought.

Azzi had planned to be the bigger person today and put all their bad blood to the side. But she couldn’t shake the feeling that Paige had been avoiding her, and it left a sour taste, so she kept her mouth shut.

[stardustamaryllis78]

Ok, I'm really getting tired of seeing people saying Aaravos is manipulating Claudia and I don't know if those people are watching a different show or seeing the show through a different lens but clearly, they turned a blind eye to the intention of this scene:

Aaravos confesses the whole truth about Viren to Claudia.

Then Claudia confessed that she KNEW Viren wasn't in the in-between and that she has been going along with Aaravos by her own free will.

Aaravos even asks her if she knew he wasn't there, then why would she want to invert the Nexus?

And that's when she asks Aaravos to give his full reasoning for opening up the Nexus. And he does. He becomes vulnerable to his true feelings.

Then Claudia stays by her own agency.

There is no more manipulation. They are now both on the same page.

Those of you saying after this that he's manipulating her have completely turned a blind eye to this scene for some reason and I really don't know why. Its a beautiful scene where two people who have both been through immense trauma have bonded and have become family. They have both lost someone and are now walking the same path together whether good or not.

I spoke about it in my post yesterday so I won't go too much into detail here but you can even see it in this scene:

Terry and Soren hatch a plan to use an illusion of Claudia's mum to get her away from Aaravos (now THATS manipulation) and Claudia says to Aaravos that she will handle it and guess what? He respects her wishes and stands back.

Even when the illusion version of her mum comes out from the Nexus, Aaravos doesn't say anything. If he really was manipulating her, he would have tried to stop her but no, he gives Claudia the breathing space to do what she needs to do and stays back.

Aaravos had given her a chance for an out earlier at the Nexus and Claudia went with him by her own free will so if she chose her mum, Aaravos would have respected that. Especially from the language he was choosing here by letting Claudia take the reins in this situation. It was about her, not about him. Why is this stuff being overlooked?

There's even proof in the openings:

Season 6 Opening:

Season 7 Opening:

Claudia no longer turns to stone and Aaravos has a much softer expression. Now why do you think that is?

That's right. She's no longer his pawn but someone he genuinely wants to see happy and healthy.

Now, lets look at the season 7 interview:

Note: Its supposed to say, "When Aaravos confessed that he does not believe Viren will emerge from the Moon Nexus" because we know that's what happened.

This is a Youtube interview from Cartoon Universe with the creators of The Dragon Prince. This was said by Aaron Ehasz himself:

"One of the things the season does, it deals with this idea of the transference - like Claudia's relationship with her father - and he's (Aaravos) sort of very aware of like she sees me as a father now and its not a perfect transference and he really sees her as a daughter - and he really does - I will not watch another daughter die, he says - he MUST save her. And so, I don't know. I do think - he's not just completely - he's not just an evil force, he has ALOT of cosmic anger to play out. He looks up at the stars "Are you watching?!" He's got a lot to work through."

Aaravos legitimately does see Claudia as a daughter and does very much care for her. There is no denying it.

At the end, Aaravos gets Claudia out of the final fight and says "I will not watch another daughter die" and you can feel how much he means those words (amazing performance by Erik Todd Dellums.) and in the way he looks at her, even though he's beaten and bruised.

He is now her father and she is his daughter.

No manipulation to be found after episode 6.

Was he once manipulating her? Yes. But not anymore. They are very much on the same page and care for each other very much as family.

Can we please move on from this whole "Aaravos is manipulating Claudia" charade now because I'm getting very tired of seeing it.

[aishangotome]

"Ah, No Need for Money" - Azel (His POV)

Card and story provided by @shatcey!

Azel: Enis, please tell the High Priest...

Azel: ...that God seems to be infatuated with a foreign girl.

-

Some time had passed since I began using Rhodolite's foreign girl as a shield against women –

Due to official duties, there was a day when I absolutely had to leave the solitary desert castle and stay at the royal palace.

(...Damn it. This is why I don't want to stay in the castle for long.)

(That damned geezer keeps sending me woman after woman whenever he gets the chance...)

The place I quickly head to, so as not to get entangled any further, was the room prepared for foreign guests.

(At this rate, the woman is probably being targeted too.)

(I've assigned her a guard as a precaution and had given those around her strict warnings.)

(She shouldn't be drugged with aphrodisiacs like before... but I should still go check on her.)

(Not that I'm worried or anything, but I couldn't leave her alone in the temple.)

(Since I brought her to the castle for my own convenience, I'll have to compensate her if anything happens.)

(...That's right. It's just that simple.)

Making excuses to no one in particular, I reach the designated room.

When I knock on the door, hurried footsteps and a loud clatter overlap from inside.

(What is it?)

Azel: I'm coming in.

I open the door before I hear permission.

Emma: Th-this is a misunderstanding!

The first words I hear and the scene before my eyes are something even a miracle diviner couldn't predict.

(I gave them strict warnings, though...)

In the moonlight, the woman, who had fallen to the floor, is dressed in harem attire.

The area of exposed skin is greater than usual, and even more concerning is the design of the clothes.

The color and material clearly imitate the attire of a God, and it's tailored in such a way that 10 out of 10 people would recognize her as God's woman.

(Is this the geezer's doing? Or the maid's meddling?)

Emma: I didn't expect anyone to come to my room at this hour...

Azel: Ah, so you do know that's harem attire.

Emma: ...The head maid brought it to me as an apology for the aphrodisiac incident before.

Emma: It seems the harem has many outfits prepared so that Prince Azel can receive women at any time...

Emma: She gave it to me out of goodwill, saying it would suit me.

Azel: Goodwill? You mean malice.

(It's transparent that they want me to lay my hands on her no matter what.)

Exasperated, I still extend my hand to the woman.

I understood from the situation that she had tripped when I knocked on the door.

Emma: ...Thank you.

The woman seemed to understand my intention and obediently took my hand to stand up.

(No injuries... good.)

Emma: The maids only gave me the outfit, they didn't force me to wear it.

Azel: Then why did you put it on?

Emma: ...Well, that...

Emma: I-Isn't it cute?

Azel: Huh?

The woman's face turns a distinct red.

Emma: This outfit... it's so Tanzanite-like and cute, I thought.

Emma: And see, it matches with yours, Prince Azel.

Emma: I just wanted to try it on once since I wouldn't be showing it to anyone.

Emma: I didn't expect you to come right after I put it on...

Her voice trails off, and in the end, she even puts some distance between us.

(...What is this strange feeling?)

For no reason, I withdraw the hand I had started to extend.

Azel: You have a peculiar hobby, wanting to try on harem clothes.

Emma: I thought you'd say that, so I was going to wear it in secret...

Emma: ...By the way, what brings you here so late at night, Prince Azel?

(...)

Azel: Actually, the High Priest sent another woman to me...

Azel: I felt my life was in danger, so I came to take refuge with you.

(It's not a lie.)

(...Although I've already shaken off the woman and there's no need to take refuge.)

Emma: I see...

Fortunately, the woman didn't seem to notice anything amiss.

Emma: ...Wait a minute. You're not planning to stay here all night, are you?

Azel: That's my intention.

Emma: I didn't hear that!?

Azel: I just said it.

(This is the quickest way to ensure your safety from those crazies.)

Emma: Then I'll go change.

Azel: You can stay in that outfit if you want to.

Emma: ...It's not exactly calming, is it?

Azel: You said yourself it was "cute."

Emma: It's more embarrassing than cute in front of you, Prince Azel.

Azel: Don't worry about it. I don't feel anything even if you wear harem clothes.

Emma: Even so, I do mind...!

I instinctively grab the hand of the woman who tries to escape to another room.

(Ah...)

Emma: ...Prince Azel?

Azel: No...

(Why did I stop her?)

(...It's not like I thought she looked good in it or anything, or that I wanted to see more...)

(It's not like that...)

Unable to back down now, after hesitating, I sit down on the nearby bed.

Emma: ! ?

As I pull the woman onto my lap so she can't escape, an indescribable silence swallows everything.

(What am I doing?)

(...How am I going to explain what I intend to do from here?)

Emma: Um...

Azel: You're interested enough in the harem to wear that outfit in secret, right?

Emma: Eh?

Azel: Then let me give you a bit of trivia.

Though I know it's forceful, I take an apple from a nearby fruit basket and place it in the woman's hand.

Emma: ...What's this?

Azel: Aren't you hungry? You can eat it, you know.

Emma: There's definitely something behind this, isn't there?

Azel: I'm a benevolent God.

Emma: A benevolent God wouldn't force someone onto his lap like this...

Azel: Just eat it.

When I urge her, wanting to silence her, the woman obediently takes a bite of the apple.

Emma: Mmm... It's delicious.

(Why is she needlessly exuding sex appeal just by eating? Is it because of the outfit?)

Whether intentional or unconscious, the woman puts her arms around my neck for support.

Though I brought this upon myself, I felt dizzy.

Emma: But what does biting into an apple have to do with trivia?

(That's right, I almost forgot the main topic.)

Azel: ...There are a few unspoken rules in the harem.

Azel: What do you think it means to eat fruit in front of the master?

Emma: .......

Emma: "Aren't you hungry?"

(...Damn it, she's too cute.)

(No, that's not it, that's not it.)

Azel: "Won't you eat me?"

Emma: Huh!?

Azel: If the master bites back into the apple... I'm sure you understand what happens next?

Emma: I don't understand, I don't want to understand!

I put my arm around the clearly flustered woman's waist and bring my face close to the apple.

Azel: The act of eating fruit openly in front of someone requires self-confidence.

Azel: If you're confident you can captivate me, try it. If you can...

My lips touch the apple – the woman, red-faced, watches in a daze without stopping me.

(...Stop me.)

Emma: Eek...!

Instead of biting the apple, I pinch her cheek.

Emma: Wh-What are you doing!?

Azel: Learn from this and don't carelessly wear harem clothes.

Azel: It's a good thing it was a benevolent God who found you. If another man had seen you, he might have misunderstood.

(...Did I manage to gloss over it?)

(I glossed over it, I must have glossed over it.)

Emma: ...No one but you, Prince Azel, would come to my room this late at night.

Azel: That's good to know.

(...)

(................)

(...................This is awkward.)

(Even though I didn't eat the apple, why is it strangely sweet...? Damn it.)

[scarletdreamers]

Still not over the fact that these are some of the most important and intimate lines from the show, yet everyone ignores them like they don't exist:

In the series itself (the final cut), these lines said by Alana and Hannibal while they are dining with Will are delivered a bit differently. In the final take they go like this:

A: ''They love and kill what they love.''

H: ''Then they eat what they love. It's a paradox.''

A: ''Freddie thinks the two of you are a paradox.''

After having said this, Alana suspiciously eyes both Hannibal and Will. Almost as if she knows there's something between them, but she can't figure out what it is. These lines are so important because they give an outsider point of view of Hannibal and Will's relationship. It shows that, at this point in the story, certain characters knew things they weren't supposed to know.

It also adds to their perception of the dynamic between Will and Hannibal. The dangerous pair they make, the desire to kill and even eat each other shows how unconventional and insane their bond is. How, not only tragic, but thrilling and strong whatever they have is. There's always a sense of underlying desires. Sensual danger that even the other characters can feel. They know something isn't right, and Alana's/Freddies take on their bond as a 'paradox' isn't even that far from the truth. It's actually really interesting to think of the feelings Hannibal and Will have for each other during that time in the story that way.

They really do make a very complicated paradox, knowing that they will betray each other, hurt each other, maybe even want to kill each other, but love each other anyway. That they love each other enough to want to ''eat'' each other ('they eat what they love') as a sense of fulfilment they might never reach. Not as long as they stay alive in a situation in which it's quite impossible for them to be together.

After that, we have the scene where they have dinner with just the two of them and 'prepare' Freddie, including this gorgeous shot:

A simple scene where they cook together. Hannibal hands Will a cooking knife (originally a product to use to prepare food, a deadly weapon given the right reason), which is an indirect throwback to the conversation they had with Alana. They merge love, death and eating in this scene. Hannibal's trust when he hands Will the knife. The blade pointed towards himself indicates betrayal and a violent shared history between them, depicted by the way the knife's tip is pointing at Hannibal's pink-ish red and raw scar. This scene is romantic, because Hannibal literally shows Will that he ''trusts him with his life'' by doing this.

In the dinner scene with Alana she also points out that she thinks they might not be the killers individually, but together. Holding a weapon at the same time for a few seconds too long proves her point. Their sharing of the knife without hurting one another means they are working together when it comes to violence and death. It's a sign of Will's corruption. A reflection of his true self in the silver of the blade. A mirror of violence and his own darkest urges.

Will and Hannibal are a paradox like a knife is a paradox. It nurtures, is used to prepare food which gives life, and is usually a friend, until it's used against you and suddenly becomes deadly. Their love is a double edged knife, being able to cause harm and grant help at the same time. It makes you wonder, do Hannibal and Will desire to kill each other because of their love, or rather in spite of it?

Anyway, I love Naka-Choko because of the insane tension throughout the whole episode. Had to share why I think that this quote is such a heavy yet romantic giveaway of their mutual feelings and bond, it's a shame it's so incredibly overlooked just like a few other really good lines in the show.

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 2/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

>PART ONE<

Turn me into something tragic, just for you I let it happen.

General Warnings: after the first part you're probably thinking how could there possibly be more snark? you're about to find out. same with idiotic shenanigans, they're not quite finished with those!! fluff, cursing, sexual references, and fade to black type smut!!

A/N: DON'T HATE ME FOR MAKING IT 3 PARTS I'M JUST AN ADHD GIRLY WHO CAN'T READ 30K IN ONE GO BUT APPARENTLY CAN WRITE IT??? part three will be tomorrow I pinky promise!! I was nervous about splitting this whole thing up bc I really did write a whole romcom lmao!! I know long fics aren't to everyone's taste but I know no way of life other than the art of yapping!! Sorry that this took a little longer than expected there were a couple of scenes I couldn't get right but I hope you guys like this half as much as you did the first part!! and again I'd love to hear any thoughts!! reading your messages and your reblogs and your tags made my month and ily a lot!! like I said, I promise part 3 will be tomorrow, I didn't want to force so much at you in comparison to the first part!!

“I’m bored.”

Luke hadn’t thought he would regret staying at home when he had told Jack he wasn’t feeling well enough to drive out to Detroit for the Zach Bryan concert - if anything, it was an effort to push him and Ellie a little closer. She took Luke’s place, roomed with Jack in their hotel and everything, and they seemed to be having the time of their lives in all the videos dispersed into the group chat. But that was all before he came downstairs, eyes on the pictures of the all-you-can-eat breakfast the group were partaking in before coming back, and opening the kitchen cupboards to see them bare, with a few protein bars and boxes of granola tossed in like they’d been ransacked for the apocalypse. 

He’d had fun last night, though.

Even after the movie had ended, when the two of you had stayed up on the couch, talking about life - about hockey, about school, about his brothers, about your mom - if he’s honest, it had been the closest he had felt to another person that wasn’t one of his brothers in a really long time.

He really felt like you were connecting.

So much so that he’d retired to his bed for the first time all summer with a big, dopey grin on his face. Had laid awake scrolling through astrological compatibility after the two of you had drifted onto that topic after the movie finished, talking for maybe two hours before you had yawned so big he thought you might swallow him whole.

He had thought he knew you, before.

Had thought that those brief observations made from back in college, about your coffee preferences, your perfume collection, your taste in music, had painted a somewhat blurry picture of who you were - of all the things that blended together to formulate you - but he had been so wrong. 

And he had laid in bed last night thinking much deeper about the girl who was laying only a couple rooms down the hall - a few walls away. 

The girl who had come downstairs, bare feet padding softly into the kitchen, and had poured out two glasses of juice and handed one over to him without even asking. 

“Hi Bored, I’m Luke,” he smiles as he accepts the drink from your hand, the expression deepening as you roll your eyes back at him, this time with a glimmer of fondness slipping through the surface of your facade. 

You reach past him into the cupboard for the box of granola, and he grabs one of the protein bars before closing it, your bodies moving around each other in tandem like a well choreographed routine - easy and effortless in a way that calms whatever nerves he might have had around this new development in your relationship being one-sided.

You had never seemed uncomfortable in the house, or around the rest of the guys, but you had never been like this. 

“I was thinking,” you drag out, voice sweet and alluring, like you even have to put it on to convince Luke of anything, “we could go out on the boat,” you glance back at him as you pour out your cereal, lashes fluttering to complete the act, “You have your license right?”

“Yeah,” he replies, settling himself down to lean at the kitchen island as you cross to the other side, taking one of the stools, “But I’m not really supposed to take it out on my own.”

You hum as if you’re thinking, crunching your food before asking, “Is that brotherly advice or is that the law?”

“Advice, I guess,” he shrugs, pushing forward ever so slightly onto his forearms, where he can feel the tense of his muscles, and can see the diversion of your attention. 

“And you always do what your brothers tell you?”

When you tilt your head, the sun shining through the kitchen window reflects on your irises, making them sparkle, and he can see all the different hues in there, as if you’re using the elements to try hypnotise him into compliance.

You’re so pretty, you don’t even need the special effects.

“I’m a good boy,” he smiles teasingly, with a tilt of his own head, driven by infatuation and admiration, keeping your gaze and trying not to shudder visibly when your eyes drop to his lips. 

“You wouldn’t be on your own, though,” you pout, “I’d be there. I was a lifeguard for the past three summers, you know.” Of course he knows. “I promise I’ll save you if you get thrown overboard.”

You don’t have to say the following sentiment that the two of you share - that if he were to be thrown overboard, it would undoubtedly be by your own hand. 

“Yeah, you’d give me mouth to mouth?”

You scoff, leaning down onto your forearms and mirroring his position, careful not to knock your bowl. “Unfortunately for you, Hughes, they don’t advise the use of that method, anymore.”

“And you always do what people tell you?”

It’s one of his favourite things to do with you, he’s noticed - turn the tables, use your own wit against you. It gets him a reaction, every time. A rush of something real that washes over you, has you fixing your shoulders and biting back a smile. 

Although you don’t bite this one back. Luke doesn’t think that you could, even if you tried. Your eyes even crinkle a little in the corners, and Luke doesn’t see the danger in it - too lost in the way they reflect the glorious sunshine back at him in dazzling sparkles - until one drops in a wink as you retort, “I’m a good girl.”

Touché.

He thinks his heart might have skipped a beat. He can all of a sudden feel every last crumb of the previous bite he took from his protein bar lodged in his throat, and he needs a drink, so he pushes himself up from the counter to try at least gain a height advantage over you, and forces down some gulps of his juice.

The look you’re giving him isn’t doing him any favours - the height difference working against him as your eyes look up to meet his, round and pleading despite the cunning genius he knows is buried within them. 

“Fine,” he huffs, rolling his eyes as your smile grows wider, “But we need to be back before my brothers so I don’t get a lecture.”

“Yes!” You squeal, pushing up from the stool, “I knew you weren’t as boring as you seem!”

He frowns, despite knowing you’re just teasing him for this exact reaction, and watches as you clean up your bowl, discarding of the mushy granola and rinsing it out. 

“I just need ten minutes to get ready and then we can go!”

“You have five.” He grumbles, watching as you rush out the room and listening for the stomp of your feet up the stairs. 

He’s probably going to regret this. 

—

The bikini had been your first strike - baby blue, the type that ties with strings around your neck and back - when you had come down the stairs, the slap of your slides echoing against the wood and diverting his attention from his phone to your emerging figure. Your t-shirt was clutched in your hand, your tote bag in the other, and he had just stood there, mouth agape, until you rolled your eyes and stormed straight past him, calling, “Thought we were on a time crunch, come on,” behind you.

Your second strike had been the way you had waited until you were on the boat to apply your sunscreen, sat next to Luke, who was trying to keep a steady hand on the wheel as he drove his way down to a clear spot further out on the lake. Luke who was biting his tongue from offering to help you, and could smell the sweet melon scent of the lotion as it sank into your skin. 

And the third had been the way you had been smiling down at your phone, distracting him with the pretty curve of your lips as he steered over the water. 

Three such minor infractions already had him regretting the decision to bring you out here alone.

“Who’s got you smiling like that?” He asks, trying not to sound as jealous as he feels at the thought of it being another guy.

“It’s Cole,” you tell him, eyes still on your phone.

“You and Cole text?” The boat jolts slightly as his hands tremble, and he diverts his attention to you.

“No, he’s got Ellie’s phone.” You type something back before turning the device to show him a selfie Cole had taken in the hotel lobby, Jack asleep on one of the benches in the background and Ellie posing in front of his sleeping figure.

“Why’s Cole texting from Ellie’s phone?” Luke asks, eyes back on the water as he steers the boat, long fingers curled around the wheel and muscles flexing. 

“They’ve been hanging out,” you tell him, “They were together when we got back from the club the other night, he was in our room.”

“And you’re only just telling me this now, because?”

“Oh, my bad, control freak, didn’t realise you needed the whereabouts of everybody in the house,”

“Jack’s been off all week,” Luke mutters, remembering his brother’s reaction when he had told him he was staying at home instead of going to the concert. He had called him out on staying home just to be around you, saying he’d regret missing out on such a huge experience, like there won’t be a hundred other concerts in his lifetime, and that you wouldn’t even appreciate him doing it. “Making all these passive aggressive comments,”

“No way! Jack Hughes? Passive aggressive?” You gasp, shuffling in your seat to give him more of your attention, “What next, is he gonna start acting like the world revolves around him too?”

“Don’t get cute,” Luke rolls his eyes. It’s starting to make sense, him chewing his ear off like that - even though the two of you had literally caught him out on a date, if he feels like Ellie is moving on with his best friend, he’s bound to feel some sort of way about it. “If they were together when he came home from that date, maybe he saw them,”

“They were hardly getting it on with the door wide open, Luke, they were playing cards.” You scoff, “Plus, he has no right to be upset, he was literally on a date he told nobody about.”

“He gets in his head about stuff like this,” Luke reasons as he slows the boat, bringing it to a stop in the middle of the water so he can focus, “Talks himself in circles until it makes him so dizzy he does something stupid.”

“You think that’s what he’s doing?”

“I don’t know, I don’t like assuming the worst of my brother, though.”

“Alright, let’s say Jack is only being a dick because he thinks Ellie and Cole are hitting it off,” you stand up now that the boat is steady, kicking your slides off and ambling over to the benches at the back, out from under the cover of the roof. “What are we supposed to do about it, we can hardly keep them apart, keeping track of Jack and Ellie is hard enough without throwing Caufield into the mix. He's sneaky.”

“We’d only technically have to follow Ellie, still,” Luke says as he follows you to the back of the boat, thankful your back is to him when you start to push your skirt down your legs, and you can’t see the way his eyes go three times their usual size, he’s almost anticipating a swat to his chest for when you turn and notice. “They can still hang out, just not one-on-one, one of us could keep an eye on them, take it in turns.”

“That sounds an awful lot like hard work, Hughes,” you huff, taking a seat on the leather bench and stretching your legs out before lounging back, “Can’t your brother just grow a backbone and ask her out? It would save us both a lot of hassle.”

“I’m working on it,” he throws himself onto the bench opposite yours, thinking of all the times he’s tried to cut the conversation with his brother short by just telling him to grow a pair. “I guess you’re right, we can’t stop them being friends, it would be hypocritical.”

“Hypocritical?”

“Yeah, ‘cause we’re friends.”

“You think we’re friends?”

“You don’t?”

“We watch one movie together and now all of a sudden you think we’re besties?”

“I think we’re friends ‘cause you like my company, you wouldn’t have asked me to bring you out here if you didn’t like being around me.”

“That’s ‘cause you’re deluded.” You smile, pushing your sunglasses down from the top of your head to the bridge of your nose and relaxing back. “I like tanning and being on the water. You’re a glorified chauffeur at this point. Not a good one, either.”

“I got us out here no problems, didn’t I?”

“I had to hold on the whole way, you were throwing me around like a loose can in the trunk of your car.”

“Yeah, well the water was choppy,”

“A good workman never blames his tools, Hughes.” You smile over at him, and the innuendo makes his cheeks go hot. Definitely regretting bringing you out on the water with no escape about now.

“Did you really ask me to bring you out here just to lay out in the sun?” He leans forward with his elbows on his knees, watching as you angle your neck to face him. 

“Is that a problem?”

“It is if you’re gonna be a grouch about me being here.”

“I thought you’d be all quiet and brooding like you usually are.”

“Me?” He laughs, “Quiet and brooding?” He doesn’t think anyone has ever used the word quiet to describe him in his life. He knows you can’t be serious - all you’ve done for weeks is blast him for getting on your nerves.

“I’ve literally seen you talk once before this summer.”

What the hell do you mean by that? You barely knew who he was that day he approached you in the club. 

“That’s ‘cause you’d have to notice me to see me talk.”

“You’ve never talked to me.”

He did talk to you. Several times, in fact. That day outside your dorm with Ellie’s gift basket, a couple times in class - but they’re all insignificant, minor exchanges of words he would quite like to forget, if he’s honest. Mumbling and stuttering and, quite frankly, embarrassing, to say the least. A far cry from the confident man he’d like to think he has become. “Why would I talk to you?”

“That’s rude,” you pout, and he straightens up immediately.

“No, I just mean, like,” he waves his arms out in between the two of you, gesturing over and shaking his head. “You’re you. We were never really on the same level for me to be talking to you.”

You bring your glasses back onto the top of your head, pushing your hair out of your face and squinting against the sun to level him with a glare. “Aren’t you a big time athlete?”

“I am now. You wouldn’t have given me the time of day back then.”

“You never gave me a chance to.”

“You could have approached me.” He thinks you’re just biting back for argument’s sake, if he’s honest - there isn’t a chance in hell you ever spared a thought for talking to him or giving him the time of day. You barely even looked his way - and he definitely would have noticed. 

“So could you.” You frown. 

“I tried once.” He distinctly remembers the one time he did approach you, away from class and apart from the first time he met you, dialled up with liquid courage and driven by the way you were dressed as a sexy Patrick Bateman, and he finally felt like having the right conversation starter around his love for American Psycho might have helped him kick something off with you, or at least got you to acknowledge his existence. He would have even taken you calling him Lu again. “At a Halloween party in Freshman year. You blew me off. I barely got a word out before you were storming off.”

“When you were dressed as Scooby Doo?”

His lips part and close repeatedly like a fish bobbing it’s mouth, blinking slowly at you as he realised just what you even having that memory meant. “That’s a weird thing to remember for someone not interested.”

“A giant dork in a dog costume is a pretty hard thing to forget.” You grin satirically, “I never said I wasn’t interested, you just caught me at a bad time and never tried again,”

“You wanted me to try again?”

“I want you to be quiet. Aren’t you due a nap or something?”

“You can’t seriously tell me you asked me to bring you all the way out here just to lie out in the sun and do nothing,” he groans, watching you return back to your previous position, body bathing in the sunlight and sunglasses pushed back down onto your nose. 

“What, did you think we were gonna play mermaids?” He can’t see the roll of your eyes anymore, but he knows when it happens by now, just from your tone of voice. 

“You can do that back at the house, we have loungers out by the pool,”

“It’s not as peaceful as this.” You sigh, “Plus, the trees around the back block the sun this time of day. I’m getting pale cooped up in the club all week, I have catching up to do.”

“What am I supposed to do?”

“Lay back and relax,” you advise, nodding toward the bench he’s perched on the edge of, reaching your hand down into your tote and blindly tossing the bottle of sunscreen in his general direction, “You could use some sun, too. And if you’re a good boy, I’ll let you do my back later.”

Luke, surprisingly, folds - doing as he’s told and lounging back into the leather, and he begrudgingly thinks a little too much about how right you are. This is peaceful. The soft whoosh of water against the boat, clear blue skies, no yelling or arguing or people competing around him. Just you, and the sunshine, and the smell of melon-scented sun lotion seeping into his skin.

It isn’t long before he drifts off, his head resting on his folded arm, the heat of the sun warming him like a blanket, and the last thing he sees before his eyes close is your head turned his way, lips parted slightly as you sleep, yourself, skin glistening and your chest rising and falling in deep, steady breaths. 

When his eyes open again, you’re sat up, holding your hair up with one hand and fanning yourself with the other.

“What’s wrong?” He asks, voice thick with sleep as he sits up, his skin peeling uncomfortably off the leather. 

“I’m hot.” You whine, turning to him with a pout.

He scoffs, resisting the urge to say something corny like, I know you are, before he points out over the side of the boat. “If you look to your right, there’s a large body of water you can cool down in.”

“I’m not getting in there!”

“Why not?”

“Lake monsters, for one,” you scoff, releasing your hair and he watches it fan out over your shoulders in soft waves.

“They’re only native to Scotland, I heard.” Luke stands, looking over the side and into the steady waters to gauge how safe it would be to go in without a vest. The water is still, he’s never had any problems in this part of the lake, and he’s confident the two of you could at least take a dip without there being any concerns - you were a lifeguard, after all, and he’s always been a strong swimmer. 

“Aren’t there fish in here?” You ask, beside him now as you peer over the edge yourself. 

“There’s actually a cool hack to check, do you want me to show you?”

You eye him sceptically but nod, anyway, and he holds his hand out to help you walk to the back of the boat, stepping down onto the stern where it’s easier to reach into the water. 

You’re careful not to let him fall behind you, clearly cautious of the fact that he could push you in. Instead, he stands beside you, squats to reach down over the edge and run his fingers through the ripples that form. He stands back to full height and you squint to look up at him, the sun blaring from over his shoulder and reflecting off his sweat-slicked skin. 

It makes your eyes sparkle again, and it’s almost enough to make him change his mind from what he’s about to do - only, before your powers of hypnosis can work on him for the second time in a matter of hours, he quickly grasps onto your hips and launches the two of you into the water. 

He has the same misguided confidence he had when he squirted you with that hose - a burst of energy that he immediately succumbed to before he could think rationally about it, and it’s the same energy that forces deep and hearty laughter to rumble from his chest as you squeal on your way into the lake. 

The two of you land with a big splash, and emerge simultaneously, you running your hands through your wet hair to push it back out of your face.

“What the hell did you do that for?”

“You said you were hot, I was trying to help!”

“You are so dead!” You exclaim, splashing him with a swat of your hand against the water.

“Oh, look, a fish!”

“Ew, no!” You yell, squirming forward to try and dodge it, unintentionally leaping right into Luke, the heat of his firm chest under your flattened palm, an arm curling over his shoulder to steady yourself. 

His arms curl around your body by instinct, wrapping around your waist and holding you against him until you realise his trick, and your hands press on the top of his head until you’re pushing him under the surface with a yell of, “So dead!”

Laughter ripples out of him, from the pits of his stomach to the parting of his lips, and comes out in bubbles against your skin as you hold him down, your body thrashing to get away from his until you break free from his hold, and he rises back from under the water.

“Get back here, you’re not getting away with that!” He calls after you, launching himself forward to catch you.

“No,” you squeal, trying to gain momentum as you leap away, only for his arm to curl around your waist, pulling your squirming body back against him with a splash. “Let me go, you brute!”

“Tell me you’re having fun or you’re getting dunked,” he commands, lips beside your ear as your back is held flush to his chest, your skin still warm from the sun and smooth against his. 

“You dunk me and I’ll leave your ass to the lake monsters,” you warn him, still squirming in his hold.

“Like you could drive the boat, you need me,” your body seems to still the lower his tone gets, succumbing to his hypnotising powers, and he can feel you square your shoulders against him. 

“Yeah right,” even Luke can tell how much your denial is forced from the shiver down your spine, “Jack can do it, how hard could it be?”

“You’d really hijack the boat just to avoid admitting you like my company?” He asks as he lets you go, and you turn immediately in the water to face him. He tilts his head when your gazes meet across the water, and your eyes flicker between his as if trying to read him like a book.

“Today’s been nice,” you admit, with a dramatic roll of your eyes, “Last night, too. Not specific to your company. Just being away from everybody else."

“So that’s the key?” He dares to swim a little closer, just enough that you won’t notice him reducing the proximity between the two of you. “You wanna get me on my own?”

“You-,”

“Wish,” he finishes, your eyes meeting in a steady gaze despite the bobbing of your heads to stay afloat. He’d like to think it’s more than the water that has brought you back this close to him, legs kicking beneath the surface, his hands itching to hold back on your waist to help, “Yeah, I do.”

If he has managed to stay more or less in place while treading water, then it can’t be the current drifting you toward him, and you’re so close now that he could hold you, if his brain could just link to his hands to give them the courage to do so. 

You like being alone with him - you’ve pretty much just admitted so - feel comfortable enough that you change your plans to fit him into them - just like you had last night - you wanted him to talk to you in college, you noticed him, even, enough to remember the fact that he never did. 

There has to be some base level of interest there for you to be this close, in the first place. To move into his house, to agree to spend your summer in his company, to spending more time with him than he’s noticed you spending with your supposed best friend. 

And just as he convinces himself of it, and his thoughts link to the movement of his hands underwater, inching closer to grip at your hips and pull you all the way toward him, a shrill ringing carries all the way from the boat to Luke’s ears, turning both of your attention back to the vehicle.

“Shit, that’s Jack’s ringtone.” He groans, “They’re probably back by now.”

The two of you swim back toward the boat, and he pulls himself up onto the stern before lending you a hand to get up, yourself. 

There are a bunch of texts from his brother.

Where are you at?

Did the demon get you in your sleep?

Where’s the boat?

Please tell me you’re dumping her body and she’s not dumping yours.

You’re dead either way when you get back!

“Shit, we better get back,” he grumbles, rushing to the front of the boat to get it started again. Before you sit beside him, he feels the draping of a towel across his shoulders, and his heart thuds at the small smile you give him when his eyes meet yours.

“Sorry if I got you in trouble.”

“It’s fine,” he shrugs, nonchalant despite the rampant beating in his chest, and the thought of his brother chewing his ear off when the two of you get back. “You’re worth the headache.”

He winks, teasingly, and his eyes go back to the water before he gets the chance to see your cheeks flush. You’d probably just blame it on sunburn, anyway.

You don’t speak much on the drive back, but Luke can feel your eyes on him, can practically hear your mind whirring with a million thoughts - only because his is doing the same. 

Why does he has to have a brother with the world’s worst timing?

He would have kissed you.

At least, he thinks he would have.

His hands were reaching out. He would have pulled you in by the hips, held you against him, raised so that your faces were finally level, and he would have made a move. He can feel it in his bones, still thrumming with almost-arrogance. A knowing, sure feeling that he can’t shake - one that tells him you would have kissed him back.

But he’ll never know, now.

When the two of you get back, Jack is waiting on the dock, and you gather your things before Luke helps you off the boat. He ushers you past his brother, knowing you’d be down to argue all afternoon, if necessary, but he can take this one on his own. He doesn’t want you hearing the sort of venom he knows his brother can spew out when he’s mad like this.

You brush past Jack on the edge of the dock, who thankfully waits until you’re back at the gate and out of earshot to start on Luke.

“What the hell are you doing? Have you lost your mind?”

“What, I’m not allowed to have fun when you’re not here?” Luke scoffs, rolling his eyes at his brother’s theatrics.

So he took the boat out, it’s really not that deep, he thinks. He’s an adult, he has his license, there really shouldn’t be a problem.

“I know you’ve seen Jennifer’s Body, you shouldn’t be out on the lake on your own with her,”

“Implying she’s a demonic serial killer might be a little over-dramatic, even for you,” Luke huffs as he starts to make his own way back.

 “Trust me, it’s not.” Jack stops him with a hand gripping at his elbow. “Whatever trick she’s pulling on you, Luke, you need to wise up,”

“What the hell are you talking about?”

“She isn’t interested,” Jack tells him, “She’s using you to pass the time until someone better falls into her lap, and you’re falling straight for it. Letting her convince you to stay behind and miss hanging with the rest of us, taking the boat out on your own, don’t you think it’s weird how she never had any interest in talking to you before it started benefitting her? Before you made it to the big leagues?”

Luke narrows his eyes at his brother, shoulders slumping as the words seem to weigh on them, like a heavy towel draped across to dry him and rub away all the affections you had blessed him with over the past 24 hours.

But it isn’t Jack’s words that are ringing around his head, this time. It’s yours. 

You never talked to me.

You never gave me a chance.

You never tried again.

Maybe you did have some level of interest before. Maybe his intuitions earlier had been right. Maybe it’s still there. 

“It’s none of your business, Jack,” he grumbles, not allowing him a second to rain on this parade. “You don’t even know her.”

“Don’t come crying to me when she breaks your heart, then.”

“Trust me, I won’t.”

If you’re thankful for any rule at the house, it’s the rule for knocking before you come into any bedroom. Quinn knocks most mornings to let you know breakfast is being prepared, or before he goes on a store run to ask if there’s anything you or Ellie need. Jack knocks for Ellie, and now Cole does too.

You can always tell when it’s Luke though.

Repeated and incessant, a constant rapping of knuckles against the wood until you answer, instead of any sort of pattern or rhythm.

“Can I come in?” He asks as soon as you open.

“No.” You tell him every time, but to no avail. 

“Thanks,” He swerves into the space beside you, careful not to shove past as he makes his way into the bedroom. “We have a problem.”

“Yeah, they’re called boundaries, Hughes.” You scoff, slamming the door and following him. “You can’t just waltz in here like you own the place.”

“I do.” He frowns, “Own the place. This is my house."

“Your brothers own it, actually.”

“What are you, Michigan Census Bureau?” You mimic the words back to him, your face scrunched tight and your voice as whiney and annoying as it can go, and he pushes his hand in your face, just light enough to cover it and not actually smack you because he doesn’t have a death wish. “The problem. You have to focus,” he clicks his fingers in front of you, and you swat his hand away with a frown.

“Click at me like a dog again and I’ll bite your fingers off.” The look on your face is one he should probably fear, but there’s a nagging instinct he can’t fight to keep pushing your buttons. He doesn’t know where it comes from, but it feels wrong to ignore.

“Is that supposed to turn me on?”

“The problem, Luke, get on with it.”

“Right.” He sighs, throwing himself down on the bed, “I can’t find Cole and Ellie anywhere. I think he took her out.”

“What?” You reach forward and push at his shoulder, “You had one job, Hughes!”

It had been his turn to take watch, as the two of you had agreed the other day out on the water, but it was really starting to get tiring, having to play third wheel to a situation he really didn’t understand, and he needed a recess. Five minutes just to recuperate, he didn’t expect them to make a break for it so quick. 

“I left to make a sandwich! I’m allowed to eat, you can’t expect me to starve it goes against my rights!”

“You’re such an idiot,” You scoff as you rush toward the closet to find something to wear, your plans of a self-care day now flushed down the toilet thanks to Luke’s insatiable appetite. “You couldn’t watch them for an hour without succumbing to malnutrition?”

“Why can’t you be on watch for once?”

“I was doing my nails,” You retort, wiggling your freshly painted fingernails in his face, crimson red to match your toes, and the colour Luke feels his cheeks turning at the sight of them. “Because thanks to someone the gel started lifting after spending my entire afternoon the other day with my hands in a soapy bucket.”

“You’re the one who took the detour to beat Jack home and got my car all dirty.”

“Whatever, turn around.” You’re already lifting your tank over your head before Luke gets the chance to comply, his mouth falling agape before he can control it at the sight of you stood in just your bra and pyjama shorts in front of him. The instruction only registers when your tank top hits him in the face, dropping into his lap so he can look up at your scowl and swivel in his place on the bed. “They’re probably at the mall, she was saying she wanted to go to the art supply store there.”

“So what, we’re gonna just bump into them? Won’t they think it’s weird we’re showing up there after we both said we were staying in today?” He tries not to look into the corner of the room, where he knows the mirror placed there will show him the reflection of you changing - although what’s the use in hiding anything, now? He’s already seen it.

He’s also seen you in your many different bikinis over the past few of weeks. Has been up close and personal, even, holding your body against his out in the lake. 

But your bathing suits aren’t slightly sheer and frilly around the edges, and don’t push up on anything - not that they really need to.

But thinking about that isn’t gonna do him any favours. 

Old men playing chess, animals in the shelter, getting slammed into the boards at high speeds - thinking of those should get his mind back on track.

“Nope, we’re gonna follow them.”

“I thought you said that spying on people is childish.”

“It is when you’re talking about lurking in bushes and hiding behind menus, Luke.”

When he sees you come around the front of the bed to grab your sneakers, he decides on his own terms he can turn back around, careful not to let his eyes linger too long on the expanse of your legs beneath the skirt you’ve now changed into. 

If it wasn’t for the other afternoon spent working together to wash his car, or the evening spent watching movies, sharing a bottle of wine and indulging in those sticky face masks or the way you had quite literally drifted into his arms in the lake the other day, he would probably feel like a creeper for the way his one track mind has persisted. But, despite your efforts to convince him otherwise, he isn’t deluded. 

There’s something brewing between the two of you. 

It’s in the twitch of your lips that now follows every time you roll your eyes, and the magnetised force in which your eyes track him whenever he enters the room, where you had been entirely indifferent before - you’re warming up to him, he can sense it.

“So what’s the plan?”

“I wanna see what it is they keep running off together for,” you shrug as you braid your hair into pigtails in the mirror, your gaze flickering back to him, “Every time we interrupt them, they just keep sneaking back off again. Maybe if we find out what it is they’re doing, we’ll be better at keeping them away from doing it.”

“And how are we supposed to stay hidden?”

“Easy, we have to wear something we usually wouldn’t be caught dead in.”

“I’ve seen you in that exact outfit like twelve times.” He gestures with a lazy hand to the outfit you have on - white t-shirt, navy skirt, socks that go just above your ankles and the same pair of sneakers he must have seen you in every day the last year you were both in college together. 

Not that he was paying that close attention.

“I know. Can I borrow that quarter zip you wore the other day? You know, the one that’s the colour of baby poop? Super hideous, really gross-,”

“Har har, real funny,” he whips the tank top he’s still, for whatever reason, clutching in his hands at you before throwing it onto the bed, and storming toward the door, calling out a, “Let’s go,” over his shoulder and not bothering to check if you’re coming when he starts to make his way downstairs - the echo of your giggling laughter following him down the hallway tells him as much.

—

“Are you sure she said the art supply store?”

Luke’s neck is starting to hurt from craning it above the shelves in search of Ellie’s curls, this being the second art store the two of you have checked. Somehow he’s the one looking out while you peruse the shop, now cooing at a section of crotchet animal kits and pointing them out until he mutters out some half-hearted cute, or nice.

“There aren’t many things I could have confused it for, Luke, unless you know of anything that rhymes with art supplies?” You pick up one of the kits, turning it to assess the difficulty by the pictures on the back before putting it back on the shelf.

“Maybe she said she had parts to buy?”

“Alright, smartass,” You scoff, shouldering past him to make your way toward the exit, clearly having no luck in finding them here. She definitely wouldn’t have parts to buy for anything, she’s hardly Fix-It Felix. “You can buy me lunch and we’ll see if she’s put anything on her story yet.”

“I’m starting to think they’re not even at the mall and you’ve lured me out of the house under false pretences for free food.” The diffidence he’s giving is entirely forced as he drags his feet behind you, following you out of the store. “If you wanted me to take you on a date, you could have just asked. It was probably the stop for a smoothie that had us missing them in the first place.”

You gasp, and before he has the opportunity to retort with something just as annoying, you grab his hand and tug him with you behind one of the giant plants that are beside the coffee stand, keeping a hold of him as you poke your head around the corner.

“There they are,” you whisper back, your fingers still clutching at his as he crowds into the same space to make sure he too is hidden behind the sprawling leaves.

“Oh so hiding behind bushes is alright if it’s your idea?”

“Shh,” you frown, your hand releasing his and pressing over his mouth, “They’ll hear you, Loud Mouth,” and his eyes follow the pointed finger on your other hand to where Ellie and Cole are walking together toward the store you and Luke just left - side by side, sodas in hand, smiling and laughing and nudging at each other. 

In better circumstances, he’d be thinking about how he’s pressed to your back, bending to accommodate for the height difference, your head tilted to make room for his to lean in for a better look, and your hand still resting on his face, not really covering his mouth but more caressing his jaw in an absentminded fashion as you watch the two of them. 

But all he can think about, disturbingly enough, is his brother - and how hurt he’d be to see what’s happening between his supposed best friends. 

“We’re following them, right?” He asks lowly, his face not too far from yours, and when you turn your head to the side to look at him, he feels like your gaze is softer than usual when it takes in how hardened and dark his is.

“Definitely,” you agree, stepping away from him and turning to face him properly. “If you saw me out of the corner of your eye, you wouldn’t know it was me, right?”

Wrong, Luke thinks, but that’s only because he’d be able to pick you out of a line up in a pitch black room by now - blind folded, spun around a few times for good measure and facing the wrong way.

When he had found a Mets jersey on the rack in the Goodwill you had dragged him to in search of a disguise, and your words from earlier about not being caught dead in something had rang in his head, he had thought it was perfect. And then you had waltzed over with the same jersey, and your eyes had lit up.

“We can’t wear the same thing,” he frowned, unable to hold the weight of the expression for too long when he saw just how excited you were getting. “That’s hardly blending in."

“No, it’s perfect!” You exclaimed, “Ellie would never expect me to match anyone!”

He had thought the shirts were too much before you threw in the identical orange baseball caps you had found, and at that point he was cursing whatever scorned woman it was that dumped all her ex’s shit into the thrift store.

The two of you look cute in your matching gear, he can’t deny that, he just wishes you could have found something that made him feel a little less dirty, maybe Wolverine blue and yellow, if you were gonna dress up as a couple.

Luke doesn’t like how you still make his throat dry in Mets gear.

He reaches out to adjust the cap on your head, pulling the bill down to cast more of a shadow over your face, and combining that with the way your braids, the ones you said you’d never usually wear but seem to suit you anyway, come out the bottom of either side of the cap, he figures anyone else would have a hard time immediately placing you. “Probably not,” he shrugs, making sure to keep an eye on the apparent lovebirds still hovering in the entrance of the art store. 

“Great.” You smile victoriously, “Put your arm around me.”

“You’re kidding, right?”

“Do I look like I’m kidding?” You scoff, “I’m hardly asking you to ravage me outside the Pretzel Peddler, Hughes, make haste,” you shoo him forward, taking control of the situation and forcing yourself under his arm as the two of you stumble back toward the art store. 

Remaining incognito isn’t entirely hard when the two of you are moving as one, you stuffed under his arm and him able to hide his face in the top of your head if he thinks either Cole or Ellie are likely to see you.

Following them is easy, able to maintain a short enough distance that you can both eavesdrop on their minimal conversation, and there isn’t really a problem until they break apart. 

Ellie goes toward the back of the store, Cole towards the front, and you whisper to Luke that it might be best for you to break apart, too - if you both follow one of them, the other is more likely to catch you - and so you drift after Cole, and he drifts after Ellie, and while the two of you can still see each other, there are a lot of unidentifiable hand gestures in place of where you can no longer talk. That is, until Cole heads further down the other end of the store, and you slip completely out of view.

It’s less fun, spying this way, watching as Ellie browses the shelves, looking over all the sketchbooks until she finds the right one - as if he hasn’t seen a stack of around 5 of them in their room back at the house - swerving so fast on her feet that Luke stumbles on his own to get away, rushing around the bend before she can see him. 

When he rounds the corner of the aisle and sees you heading straight for him, eyes wide and step rushed, he rushes, too, tripping forward until the two of you collide, your stance thankfully much sturdier than his. You grab him by his shirt to make sure he’s steady on his feet before you pull him with you as you fall against the shelf behind you, standing on your tip toes and tugging him down to meet your lips with a surprised grunt.

What the fuck?

Your hands move up to cup at either side of his face, holding him in place as you angle to slot the bill of your cap to the side of his so they don’t bump and fall off, and he loses himself in the warmth of your kiss before he even realises that he’s halfway gone. Your hands cover both of your profiles, and Luke thinks that if you are caught, there’s no way for them to identify the two of you unless Ellie has the orange-red colour and long, supposedly almond - or so you had told him - shape of your nails memorised. Because who would pay such close attention to something like that?

A hand falls to your hip, another to your waist, and he’s teasing your back into an arch with his touch, only distantly hearing surprised exclamations of oh fuck, and sorry, from either side of the aisle.

He pays no mind to the sound of rushed, retreating footsteps, trying to press his tongue between your lips for a further taste of very berry smoothie and sugary balm that he can feel the stickiness of, that he wants his lips to be coated in forever.

He savours the seconds after, where you drag out the show just to make sure Ellie and Cole have actually disappeared, and he pushes his luck one more time, deepening the kiss until you pull away, your hands on his chest shoving purposefully. 

“What was that for?” He asks, breathless and dazed as he takes in your appearance, lips swollen and wet by his doing, pupils dilated.

“PDA makes people uncomfortable, right?” you shrug, like it’s the most obvious explanation for the way you just kissed the life out of him. Like there was nothing else you possibly could have done to get out of that predicament. And his heart thumps as he remembers that those are his words, uttered in a tease way back in the restaurant at the club. “They were hardly gonna stick around and watch, I don’t have Caufield down as a voyeur.”

Luke watches as your eyes drop briefly to his lips, and he swears he sees the flicker of a smile twitch at the corners of your mouth. His fingers come up by instinct, pressing tentatively at the sticky residue that coats the outline of them.

“You tell anyone I did that and I’ll gut you like a fish, Hughes.”

He nods, still in a daze, if he’s honest, and stays in place while you nudge past him to follow in the direction where Ellie and Cole disappeared. 

When he does finally come to, shaking his head to pull himself out of the way his brain is trying to relive the last few minutes, he follows, too - maybe less discreet in his movements, this time, in the hopes that another close call might just gain him another kiss, too.

You’d like to think you have good intuition when it comes to others and their actions. You can see straight through people, a shift in their expression, a twitch in their smile, a glint in their eye - it makes you protective of the people you surround yourself with, keeping only a close-knit group of friends, and keeping everyone else at arms length. 

Friends who you know when they’re upset, or down, need someone around, or need space. It’s how you know Luke has been avoiding you all week, and how you know even more just to leave him to it. 

Not that you’re friends.

It started with long days at the rink - not that you lament his training, but you know he hadn’t been that deep into his regimen so far this summer. Quinn had been the one to drop you off at the club that last couple of days, and Luke hadn’t joined the group when they had played a round of golf and stopped by the bar for some refreshments after.

You’ve seen him around the house still, usually shooting off to God-knows-where, eyes locking in the hall as he passes you like a ship in the night, until he shifts his gaze with an awkward smile.

If he wants to be childish about one stupid, meaningless kiss, you have no choice but to let him.

You’d hardly forced yourself on him. He could have pushed you off if he didn’t want it. Instead, he’d pulled you even closer, even tried to slip you some tongue! And it had kind of been his suggestion in the first place.

You wouldn’t be so bothered about it if you had something to do with Ellie gone for the next week - her little sister’s birthday taking precedent over your summer plans, and the family taking a trip out of state. You can’t even go out, trapped inside due to the unforeseen storm - and you hate thunder, it reminds you too much of all those tumultuous nights locked in your room, listening to your parents fighting, the wind and rain doing little to drown it all out.

But all you have is the house, and with the house comes the movies - the ones he had promised to watch with you.

You had both written down your top ten, yours in his notes, and his in yours, and the damn page has been haunting you every time you unlock your phone. And that’s how you’ve given in so easily. It has nothing to do with the fact you miss him - it’s just pure boredom and curiosity that has you watching Happy Gilmore on your own on a Friday night.

You don’t miss him.

That would be ridiculous.

Luke Hughes is annoying. 

His taste of movies is annoying.

The fact that won’t talk to you is annoying.

“Hey, I thought we were gonna watch this together.”

Or not.

Luke leans against the doorway, possessing the kind of casual indifference that only a man could, frowning and pouting as if he’s not the sole reason you’re cooped up on your own watching a damn movie about golf of all things.

“Thought you were avoiding me,” you bite back, arms crossed over your chest and brows furrowed in frustration. 

“Why would I be avoiding you?” He asks as he steps into the room and closes the door behind him, your eyes darting straight to long, slender fingers wrapped around the handle. 

“Because you kissed me, and then all of a sudden started acting like I don’t exist to you.” You accuse with a pointed glare, figuring one of you has to have the guts to talk about it. 

“Actually, you kissed me,” he smirks, perching himself on the edge of your bed, “And then told me in graphic detail you’d pretty much murder me if I ever spoke about it again, so I,” he frowns, “Didn’t.”

You can’t help but scowl at how stupid that sounds. He can’t seriously think you would murder him. If you were the murdering type in the first place, you’d have done it long ago. You even tell him as much.

“I don’t know, you had this scary look in your eye, kind of didn’t want to test that theory,” he shrugs, reaching in the pocket of his hoodie and throwing a bag over to you. 

M&Ms. Your favourite.

“You gonna scoot over?” He asks, raising a brow and widening his eyes as if he’s pleading, as if you’ve been the one giving him the cold shoulder.

You roll your eyes and shuffle across the bed, making room for him beside you that he occupies way too quick, legs stretching out in front of him, all the way down the bed, as he gets comfortable.

You try to focus on the movie, as if you have any clue what’s been happening so far, anyway, but you can see him out of the corner of your eye, an arm tucked behind his head, his chest stretched out, and his jaw tensing as he chews on the candy he’s already stealing from you.

He’s had a haircut. Shorter on the sides, and it makes his face look a little more defined. Still curly - maybe even curlier - and softer than before, in a way that you’d want to run your hands through it, if you were a crazy person, of course.

And he smells good, too.

You’re starting to think this has been his plan all along - for distance to make your wretched heart grow fonder, or whatever - and you find yourself tensing your own jaw as you grind your teeth and try to tune back into whatever Adam Sandler is yapping about. 

“I sort of was avoiding you,” he admits, and you can still see him out of the corner of your eye, looking down at you, now, although you don’t look back.

“I know.”

“I’m sorry,” he apologises, shifting a little to face you more, “I thought you might have felt weird about kissing me.”

“I didn’t.” 

“Okay then.”

“Alright.”

“We can talk about it, if you want?” He suggests, and that’s finally when you look at him, with his lips twisted nervously and his brow raised, anticipating your response. 

What’s there to even talk about? You kissed him as a distraction. He knows that. You know that. 

“I’m good.” You tell him, a short, forced smile to ease the tension before he smiles back.

“I know something we can talk about,” he leans in, “Considering how little you care about this movie.”

“Yeah, what’s that?”

“How you had a big fat crush on me in college,” he smirks, eyes darting between yours, the flash from the tv screen highlighting all the different hues of blues and greens in his irises.

He’s not gonna catch you out, though.

“You’re delusional.” You tell him, your own eyes narrowing, almost like a defence mechanism. He seems to be quite good at reading you, and you’re not letting him in that easy.

“So you keep saying,” he pouts, pensively, “But then it’s you never talked to me, Luke, and I remember small random details about you, Luke!”

“I don’t sound like that,” you frown, taking slight offence to the squeaky voice he puts on, more than likely to distract you from the closing distance. He speaks again before you can realise you really should be putting more effort into denying such ridiculous accusations, before he completely slanders your good name. 

“You’ve been avoiding me all week and I missed you, Luke-,”

You don’t know why your mouth is all of a sudden on his, but if you take a second to think about it, you’ll spiral out. His lips are soft, and your noses slot perfectly beside each other - no painful bumps or clumsy collisions. Just a plain, normal kiss between two people who tolerate each other. That’s all.

When you part, his eyes drift open softly, his lashes - infuriatingly long as they are - flutter open, and his irises glaze over as if he’s under a spell. 

“That was-,”

“To shut you up,” you mutter, rolling your own eyes and forcing a scowl. “You were starting to give me a headache.”

He nods, that dumb look still in his eyes, and you feel your jaw clenching almost achingly at how it makes you feel.

“And I care very deeply about Gilmore’s happiness, so if you could cut it out with your yapping, I’d really appreciate it.”

“His name is Happy-,”

“I didn’t ask.”

When Luke is on the ice, most of the noise around him usually tunes itself out. Aside from the scrape of his skates, and the thudding of his heart, he can usually dial out the crowd, the chanting, the booing, the chirping, whatever it may be - all distractions to the end goal.

The one noise he never can ignore, though, is that of the goal horn, blearing throughout the arena, bouncing off of every corner until it hits him like a freight train, and he thinks they ring a little louder when it’s him that scores.

And with that horn, he can fine tune himself back into his surroundings. To shouts and cheers and applause, a sea of red and white jerseys jumping up, the Devils logo brandished across their chests, and his work being praised by the masses.

He somehow has the power to zero in on you, too. Arms raised, up a little in the stands, not too far that you’re just a speck, but not too close that you’d be a distraction.

A wide smile on your face, adoration in your eyes, and 43 on your arm. 

“Luke!” Your lips read, drowned out by the crowd, but he can still make it out, calling out to him like you’re the only other person in the room. “C’mon, Luke!” 

He smiles, as big as he ever has before, and points straight at you, dropping a wink like you could possibly catch it from out in the stands, and taking a bow.

“Hughes, you big lump, wake up!”

He groans as he’s shaken from his sleep, soft hands gripping at his arms and jolting him awake.

“What?” He doesn’t open his eyes, not yet, but he thinks it’s the weight of his furrowed eyebrows keeping them closed. 

“I need a favour,” you whisper.

“No.”

“You don’t even know what it is.”

“It’s 2am. I don’t do favours before 9.”

“C’mon, please?” He opens one eye to your pleading face, and then another, when he catches the teary reflection of the moonlight in your eyes.

“What is it?” He straightens up, rubbing the sleep from his eyelids and straining to make the rest of you out in the dark. 

“I need you to look at the window in my room, it’s whistling.”

“It’s just the storm, it gets like that when it’s windy,” he sighs, sinking back down a little into his pillows. He had thought you were in danger, or something.

“Can’t you fix it?” You plead, soft fingers still squeezing a little at his bicep, and his chest starts to feel heavy just from the tone of your voice - but it’s 2am. You had him up until midnight watching Wall-E, and he has a morning skate with his dad at 6am. 

“Do I look like a handyman?” He huffs, also a little aggrieved at the fact you had disrupted his rather nice dream. “Just go to sleep and ignore it.”

“I can’t.” You whine, “I can’t sleep if there’s a storm, they freak me out. And I can’t ignore it when it’s literally screaming at me through a broken window. And I’m on my own in there, it’s scary.”

Luke presses his palm firm into the socket of his closed eyes, trying to rub away the exhaustion that is urging every fibre of his being to fall straight back asleep. 

He can’t fix the window. It’s been like that for as long as him and his brothers have lived here - always the dud room left to whoever rocks up last to the house - and even if he could, he’s comfortable, and warm, and if his bare feet touch the cold, hardwood floor, he won’t be able to get himself to drift back off. 

He sighs, shuffling beneath the sheets before grasping them and flipping them over, making room beside him and muttering a grumpy, demanding, “Get in.”

“Luke,” you whine, and he can see your pout even through his closed eyes - lips plump and plush and if he gets even a glimpse he’s going to start thinking about kissing them, again. “You’re really not gonna help me?”

“I don’t offer my super comfy bed up to just anybody,” he reasons, making a little more room, “C’mon, you can barely hear the rain in here, it’s this or the couch downstairs.”

“Can’t you take the couch and I take your comfy bed?”

Luke opens one eye to look at you, eyes glimmering nervously in the crack of moonlight that sneaks through the curtains, lip tugged between your teeth, and relents, immediately. “Do you want me to take the couch?”

He could probably go sleep in your bed, if you’re really that bothered. He doesn’t do too well with noises while he sleeps, but he will if he has to - if that’s what makes you feel better. But you had just said it was scary being alone, and he’s counting on that to make a case for himself to keep his super comfy bed in his whistle-less bedroom.

“No,” you grumble, shoving at his arm, “Move over a little more.”

He relents, making as much room as he can for you to crawl into his bed before he flips the sheets back over on top of you, waiting for you to get comfortable before he melts back into place.

His legs extending into yours is purely accidental, but he doesn’t move them when you don’t flinch away, taking a second to adjust his positioning until he realises something. 

“You’re not wearing pants.”

“Neither are you.” You mumble back straight away, turning to face him, the bare skin of your calves brushing his as you move.

“It’s my bed,” he shrugs, his body on its side and his arm beneath his pillow, the space cramped now that you’re both squeezed in, and he’s trying to give you room, but he swears you have space on the other side. “I don’t wear pants to bed.”

“I don’t either.” 

“What if there’s a fire?”

“I think I’d rather succumb to the flames than let your brothers see me in my panties.”

He just hums, sleepily, trying not to overthink how you wouldn’t mind him seeing you in them. He closes his eyes and tries to ignore the press of your skin to his. 

“Do you want me to go put pants on, Luke, would that make you happy?”

“Don’t ask such a ridiculous question.” He huffs, sinking into his pillows and getting himself back into the right position to drop back off into a deep slumber. “Go to sleep.”

The soft patter of rain against the window lulls him, and he slowly feels you relax beside him, a few minutes of silence settling between the two of you - comforting and still - before you break it. 

“Luke?” You whisper, this time barely audible, like you don’t even want to be heard - and it’s that thought that has him ignoring you, sleep clutching his eyes closed anyway, so close to drifting back off. 

He feels your body shuffle against the mattress, still not enough to lure him back into full consciousness, but he’s aware enough to know your every move.

And he’d like to think he can predict them, imagining you shuffling to get comfy and hoping he’s too deep in his sleep to care if you nudge him while doing so.

But he could never predict the soft press of your lips to the corner of his mouth, and the gentle, almost non-existent muttering of a thank you against his skin. 

He only lets himself smile when he can feel you settle back into the bed, body laid beside him, bare legs brushing against his under the sheets.

You are so welcome, he thinks, that soft smile curving into something much deeper as he succumbs to sleep, body melting into an oozy, gooey, consuming mess beside your own. 

Luke should have known you’d get your own back on him for the whole avoiding thing.

The two of you had been sweet for a solid week, movie nights every other night, especially after you had shared his bed, you’d even made him lunch to come back to the day after. And he had started driving you to and from work, again.

And it’s the drive home from work one day that he sees something in you switch.

“It’s just gonna be a couple people, you’ll probably even know some of the girls from college.”

“It’s your house, Luke, you don’t have to explain your parties to me.” You shift your knees back to face the dash, where they had just been angled toward him, and you cross your arms against your chest. 

“We can pick back up on movie night tomorrow, I don’t have any training all day so we can do a marathon, if you want.”

“Ellie’s back today, so I don’t know.”

He frowns, tightening his fingers around the wheel as he watches you retreat all of a sudden, like you’re annoyed with him, or something.

And then as soon as he pulls up outside the house, you’re climbing out of the car before he even has a chance to come around and open the door for you, storming up the driveway and disappearing inside.

He tries not to let it get to him. Tries to lose himself in the festivities of the night - a house party thrown on whim at the discovery that most of the brothers’ mutual friends were in town. He was excited to see his boys from Michigan, Ethan, Dylan, Luca and Jacob, who all climb out of Ethan’s truck with a 6-pack in hand, and crowd around Luke, embracing him with brotherly pats on his back and ushering him into the kitchen to partake in their pre game ritual - a round of shots to line their stomachs. 

He still keeps a close eye on you once the party is underway. Watches you and Ellie, watches when Cole joins the two of you, and you laugh at whatever dumb jokes he’s trying to tell you. Watches your gaze flicker his way throughout the night, and leave just as quickly, and he has to shrug off the chirps of his friends when they notice, too.

He later watches you catch up with a couple of the girls coming from your sorority, and that’s around the time he loses you, lost in a round of beer pong that fills his bladder quicker than he could have anticipated.

He excuses himself up to his room, the music dying down the further upstairs he gets, and relieves himself with an inebriated bop of his head to whatever melody he can still hear blasting through the floorboards. 

He zips his jeans back up, and ambles over to the sink, washing his hands under the faucet until the sound of his door opening has his heart falling into the pit of his stomach. 

“Jesus,” he gasps, shutting off the water and turning to face where you’re stepping into the room and closing the door behind yourself. “You ever heard of knocking? What are you doing upstairs?”

“Was just checking you weren’t like jerking off in here or something,”

“What if I was, were you planning on watching?”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pulling a face to feign some sort of offence, but Luke watches as you fidget, tucking your hair behind your ears and shuffling on your feet. 

“Like you’ve been watching me all night,” he smirks, tossing the towel he had used to dry his hands back onto the hook and taking a step into your space, backing you against the counter, your shoes no longer shuffling along the floor. It feels like it’s been days now that you’ve been off with him, even though it’s been a mere few hours, but in those hours, he’s had a lot of time to think about your relationship, or lack thereof.  “Think I haven’t seen you? Can’t take those pretty eyes off of me, can you?”

He’d first noticed when you came downstairs with Ellie, earlier, pinned to her side and gossiping about something, no doubt catching up on her week away. You kept glancing his way, subtly at first, eyes darting over and shifting back just as quick to your best friend, faking interest and nodding along until you looked back over. Your efforts were more noticeable as the two of you moved around different corners of the room, interacting with different groups and still meeting eyes across the expanse of space between you and him. 

His heart jumped every time.

And then Victoria had arrived, just before he had been recruited to play beer pong - an old hookup from his college days. She had always been more of a friend than anything else, and Luke had no interest in reigniting whatever dampened spark they once had, she has a boyfriend now, anyway, but when her hand grazed his arm, and he looked over to see your glare zeroed in on the exact spot she was touching him, he thought he’d have a little fun with it.

Nothing too extreme, a few loud laughs, a little longer spent with her than initially anticipated, but she had been more than happy to regale him with stories about her new relationship, so pretending to pay attention didn’t seem like such a bad idea if it was going to make you do something.

He had a sneaking suspicion as to what had turned your mood, earlier, and he was about to have fun testing his theory - that you had been jealous at the mere mention of other girls being at the house.

He didn’t think it would culminate in you following him all the way up to his room, confronting him in his bathroom with nobody else around, but he’s hardly mad about it, now.

“Shut up,” you scowl, but your tone is weak, and Luke knows he’s got you. Chin tilted up to meet his eyes in defiance, gaze locked on his as he moves closer, and he’s thankful, for the first time tonight, that the boys had forced him to take those shots when the party started.

He wouldn’t have the courage to challenge you like this, otherwise - an inebriated cockiness taking over, puffing out his chest and filling him with the same sort of misplaced bravado he’s been convincing himself to muster all week.

“You already know how to make me.” He mutters, lowly, the proximity of your face to his giving his tone a breathiness that he hopes comes across more seductive than slurred. His mind is stuck on that kiss from the other night, when he had apparently irritated you so much that you felt that was your only option. 

You blink slow, eyes dropping to his lips, and before he can blink, himself, you close the distance.

This is different to before - incomparable to a kiss given just to hide your faces, one just to stop him from talking and another when you had thought he wasn’t conscious. 

This is heated, and intentional, and intense. 

Dainty fingers clutch at the front of his shirt, pinching slightly at his skin before taking a hold of the fabric, and there’s no possible way for you to play this off as something less.

Your lips are firm, slotted against his, and moving before he knows it - his tongue licking at the seams until they part, and you grant him access to the sweet taste of fruity liquor inside your mouth. 

Large hands take residence on your hips, sliding daringly backward until he’s gripping at your ass, long fingers stretching down to trace the hem of your skirt, denim thick but not immune to his absentminded efforts to chase the feeling of more. 

He’s expecting you to come to your senses, anticipating the grip of your hands to turn into a shove, and the sweetness of your taste to turn sour when you start to yell at him, fire in your eyes and venom on your tongue - but all he hears is you moaning into his mouth, all he feels is the press of your torso against his as your back arches into his touch, his fingertips grazing the top of your thigh as your skirt moves in his hold.

He’s greedy with the way he touches you after that, hands cupping, fingers kneading, nails scratching even just to leave his mark, and he barely notices yours slipping down, down, down until the cold press of your fingertips grazes his abdomen, stomach tensing at your touch. 

He groans a little, his movements halting as you manage to distract him from his ministrations, using the leverage you have on his body to press and push until your lips part - swollen and wet with his spit.

His heart thuds in his chest, thump thump thump echoing in his head as he watches you - holds his breath and stares at you with his own lips parted, the taste of you lingering in a way he doesn’t want to swallow too soon. 

He waits for your face to turn, for that hypnotised look in your eyes to turn into a glare, the distance between you bringing some much needed clarity - but the shift never comes.

Instead, you push yourself away from the counter, and he finds himself looking straight down as your hands make their way back to the hard ridges of his stomach.

“What are you doing?” He stutters as your fingers start to tickle lower.

“I wanna give you a hand.”

“Give me-,” he splutters, his own hand stopping yours in its tracks. “Am I dreaming right now? Is this a trick?”

“No,” you persist, pushing your hands despite his weak, half-hearted efforts to stop them. “You did me a favour, why can’t I do one back?” 

“Because that’s not-,” He can’t believe he’s trying to turn this down, the lump in his throat protesting the words that try to come up. You just kissed him. You just let him hike your skirt up and push you against the bathroom counter, let his fingers go so far beyond the realm of reality that he thinks he’s still lost in a dream - and he can’t figure out why he’s even questioning it, anymore. “There’s a pretty big difference between me letting you sleep in my bed and you jerking me off,”

“It’s only a big deal if you make it one, Luke.” You shrug, pausing at the waistband of his pants. Every nerve from his ribs to his toes tingles, the teasing touch of the tips of your fingers sparking something unshakable within him. “Do you want me to help you out or not?”

“Are you high or something?”

“No,” you chuckle, meeting his eyes again - sparkling and beautiful, a hidden vulnerability flashing across them at the insistence of his hesitant rejection. “Are you? You’re really gonna turn me down to just jack yourself off in here on your own?”

“Please don’t call it that.” He pleads, the last thing he needs right now is any sort of reminder of his brother. Not when you have your hands on him. Not when you could conceivably get on your knees right before him. Not when his deepest darkest fantasies could play out after so many years of pining after you. “No.”

“No?”

“No.” He lets out a panicked stammer. “Not no. I meant no, like no to your question, not no period.” 

“What?” You step back with a frustrated huff, taking your hands away, close enough still that he can reach out and grab them, holding them between the both of you.

“I want-,” Good lord, he wants a lot. He can still taste you on his tongue, still feel the press of your kiss on his own swollen lips, and his head is spinning so far out of control he doesn’t think he’ll be able to knock any sense back into it any time soon. “Are you sure?”

“Oh my God, Hughes, just pull your pants down and let’s get on with it.”

Luke pulls you in for one more kiss before he relinquishes all control, and hums and whines as you work his zipper down, the sound bouncing off the tiles and reverberating around his skull.

He doesn’t know how you can so easily go back to normal after. 

He can’t understand how you could just lift yourself back onto your feet when the two of you were finished, adjust your skirt around your hips, and leave him alone in the bathroom, panting, flushed and barely coherent, all evidence of your tryst swallowed down like the moans you had forced him to suppress - all except the faint bruises on the lowest part of his stomach that you had sucked into his skin, the ones he hopes grow darker as the days go on, the ones he feels pulsing as he rejoins his friends in the kitchen. 

He had once again promised not to utter a word to anyone - but it doesn’t stop the thousands of them that swirl around his brain after, the ones that linger there all through the night, resurface through the week, and etch themselves into the very core of his being. 

Thousands of words in hundreds of languages, mixing to form romanticised poems he might never understand.

All he does understand, is that he’s so far gone for you now, it isn’t even funny. 

Far gone is starting to seem like the understatement of the century.

Luke can’t get enough of being around you, and it’s so detached now from the two of you only ever hanging out to scheme about Jack and Ellie that he can’t even remember the last efforts you made to do anything about their relationship.

He’s now just focused on whatever relationship the two of you are building between yourselves.

Watching movies in his bed, comparing commentary on your favourites, asking for his opinion, and him asking for yours. And he likes how gentle you are with the things he loves. Movies are kind of his thing, and sharing them with someone else - sitting and watching them and waiting for some kind of reaction, good or bad - could be intimidating with anyone else. 

But you’re so attentive. You ask questions, you remember things, and you try to understand why he might love a film, and try to see things from his perspective, rather than stamping your own opinion over his and ruling anything out.

You’re open-minded, even though you pretend not to be. You’d given Happy Gilmore a second chance, even, and Luke never had you pegged as the second chance type.

You talk a lot more to him on your drives to and from work - not that you didn’t talk before, but this is different, entirely. You have actual discussions, around more than just what’s happening at the house, or what’s happening at work. 

The two of you talk about college, about your major, your plans for after school. You talk about hockey, about Jersey, about his friends and teammates back there, and the life he’s built away from the one you pretend you never knew. 

And the way he feels about you starts to consume him in ways he never thought possible. In ways that make him sort of understand where Jack had been coming from all those years, when he’d never shut up about his feelings for Ellie, and how he thought about her all the time, and wanted to be with her 24/7.

It’s what has him hovering around at the club after he and Quinn had played a round of golf, waiting outside for Quinn to give the keys back for their caddy, and spotting you chatting to Cara at the side door to the restaurant.

He waves as soon as you see him, and his heart jumps when you immediately excuse yourself to skip over, a bright smile on your face that he never thought could be directed his way.

“Hey!” You greet him, cheerily, ponytail swaying behind you as you come to a stop in front of him. 

“What time are you getting off?” He asks, foregoing any small talk and cutting straight to the chase. 

“I’m on the lunch shift today, so 3,” you pout, checking the watch on your wrist that he knows reads just past 1. “You don’t have to wait around though, I can catch a ride from somebody else,”

“No, I’ll take you home.” He assures you, “I need to go to the mall, I’ve got to get a present for a baby shower, I was hoping you’d help me.”

“I don’t know how much help I’d be, babies give me the heebie-jeebies.”

“Yeah, same,” he chuckles, “Maybe we could grab dinner or something, instead?”

“I was gonna pick up a dress for the party next week, so maybe we could do that first?”

“And then dinner?” He asks, a hopeful raise of his eyebrows that is spurred on by the way you’re biting back a smile.

“Yes, Luke, then dinner.” You chuckle, beaming up at him when his face breaks out into a full-blown grin.

“Sick,” he replies, “Yeah, cool,” he nods as he watches you step away, amusement gleaming in your eyes, “I’ll be out here at 3.”

“I’ll see you then.”

Luke watches as you make your way back to the side door of the restaurant, meeting your eye when you look back at him and relishing in the way he can catch the flush of your cheeks all the way from the fountain. 

He smiles to himself as he turns on one foot, light in his step and light in his head, nodding to the guy who is painting the railings leading up to the club foyer and swinging on his feet as he waits for his brother.

If he had a little less self-awareness, he thinks he could start leaping and swinging from the nearest lamp post like a scene straight out of Singing In The Rain.

He hasn’t felt elation like this in a long time.

He hadn’t uttered the word, exactly, but this is as close to a date as he might get, and his entire body is buzzing at the thought of it. 

“Are you coming?” Quinn calls out as he descends the steps at the front of the club, keys in one hand and a water bottle in the other.

“Uhh,” Luke drags out as he not-so-subtly looks back to where you and Cara are talking by the side door. “I think I’m gonna check out the gym.”

“You know it’s just a bunch of old guys on machines in there, right? Plus, I thought we were going in the morning with the rest of the guys?”

“Right,” he mutters absentmindedly, “I meant the pool.”

“You hate indoor pools.”

“The sauna?”

“Your little crush is getting out of hand, huh?” Quinn chuckles, elbowing at Luke’s side to get his attention back.

“It’s not a crush.” Luke huffs, lips pouted as he tears his eyes away from you with great effort. 

“I think we’re past the point of you denying it, Luke,” his older brother gestures to the wall Luke had been staring at when he came outside, “You’re literally watching paint dry to pass the time until she finishes work-,”

“No, I mean like I had a crush on her,” Luke sighs, “Before this summer, when I just thought she was pretty and hot and I could never pluck up the courage to do anything about it. It doesn’t feel like a crush anymore. Or maybe it does, I don’t know, I kinda feel like she’s crushing me, to be honest.”

He gives a nervous laugh when he says it, but it’s not enough to cover up the way he really feels - not when it comes to his big brother, who puts his keys back in his pocket just so he can spare a hand to reach out and pinch at Luke’s cheeks, teasing, “Lukey’s in love,” before he swats him away.

“Hardly,” he scoffs in denial, although he doesn’t really understand why he’s fighting the thought of it so hard.

It’s not exactly a preposterous idea. Love might be an overestimation - you haven���t exactly let him all the way in - but like seems like an understatement. Obsessed seems dramatic. Infatuated?

“I don’t know, I like spending time with her, like talking to her, is all,” he shrugs. He likes a lot more than that, but confiding in Quinn after how his last encounter with Jack about the whole thing had gone has his back up, a little. “I feel like she might like me too.”

It’s the first time he’s said it aloud to anyone else. He’s chirped you about it enough - taken note of the various shades of pink he can flush your cheeks when he does, darker and darker as the days go on - but he’s been abiding by your request of staying quiet about any of the specifics.

And it’s been hard. Oversharing is kind of his thing, usually, and keeping information from his brothers isn’t exactly something he loves doing, not when he’s been cursing Jack all summer for doing the same.

“Jack thinks she’s using me. He doesn’t like her.”

“Jack doesn’t like that he can’t beat her. Like he can fire a thousand shots at her and nothing goes in, he isn’t used to that.”

“Oh, but I am?” Luke scoffs, although he isn’t entirely sure if he is offended. “Are you calling me a loser?”

“No, Luke, I’m not calling you a loser.” He chuckles. “It’s like hockey, right, you and me, we chase people down. Don’t give in until we’re caught up and we can disarm someone. That isn’t Jack’s game. He’s usually the one being chased, you know? Usually the one ahead.”

“He’s not that bad on the other side of the blue line,” Luke scoffs, although he gets where his eldest brother is coming from. He hasn’t really thought about it in that context - that you and Jack don’t get along because you’re alike - but it makes sense now that he thinks about it.

“He’s not like you, though. You get some weird thrill out of going after people you have no business going after, you have since you were younger, taking down kids 4 or 5 years older than you and twice the size for fun. Makes sense you’d want someone so far out of your league.”

Luke looks back over to where you’re still stood with Cara, and just manages to catch your eye before you look away, pretending he hadn’t caught you. The smile erupts slowly onto his features, close-lipped and soft, but he feels the joy of it all throughout his body. 

“I think I’m wearing her down.”

Stolen glances across whatever room the two of you happen to be in, smiles that you’ve only ever sent his way, feather-light but purposeful kisses on the corner of his mouth when you think he’s asleep, seeking him out in his bathroom after seeing him with someone else - yeah, he’s getting there.

“Good for you, Luke,” Quinn chuckles, patting his brother on the back, “As long as you know what you’re getting yourself into.”

He does. At least he thinks so. 

You feel weird.

It’s the only word you can think to describe the mood you’ve been in for the past week.

Well, weird and off.

You can’t quite put your finger on it, either, but it’s throwing you off your game. 

There had been a second the other day where you had thought you might have gotten to the bottom of things - when you’d come inside from sunbathing with Ellie and had found Luke in his room, packing a bag for his trip to Vegas for some award ceremony he and Quinn were nominated for. 

Clarity had hit you like a brick to the head, panic swirling in your chest at the thought of him being gone for a whole week, but then he’d looked up from where he was perched on the ground, had given you a lopsided grin, and had ushered you over to help - and the speed in which you had started to feel normal again quickly diminished any thoughts of Luke being the cause of your weirdness.

But it has been hard to shake, even as unidentifiable as it may be, and the longer you feel this way, the worse it gets, bubbling up like anxiety that keeps your jaw tight, and your lips pressed together.

It culminates the night of the boys’ party - a celebration of Quinn and Luke’s nominations, and a good luck send-off of sorts that Jack had wanted to throw before they left. 

You had started the night off fine - kind of attached at Luke’s hip, him muttering teasing remarks into your ear about you clinging to him ‘cause you’re gonna miss him when he’s gone, and catching up with a couple of the guys from Michigan. You might have even been having fun at one point, smiling into the red cup Luke had placed in your hand at the beginning of the night that you still hadn’t drained, as you watched him shoot pool and he kept smirking up at you as he leant over the table.

You shouldn’t be feeling anxious when he looks at you like that, but God, do you feel something.

And then your phone starts to buzz in your pocket, and assuming it’s Ellie, who, once again, is away with her family - this time in Europe for a couple of weeks - you pull it out.

But it isn’t Ellie.

It’s your dad.

And the heart that had been thudding in your chest at the mere capture of Luke’s attention just moments ago, is now dropping out of your ass.

It isn’t a call, thank God - you don’t think you could handle that, feeling the way you currently feel - but an email.

Your dad hasn’t called in a while. He rarely texts, either.

This is how it is, now. Emails and Facebook posts you happen to come across, like you’re some distant co-worker or an old family friend.

Not his only daughter. Not the kid he abandoned in search of a better life.

When you open it up, there’s no subject, no body either to the email, just an attachment. 

A family photo, him, his new wife, and their two boys, stood in front of the Eiffel Tower, edited into a postcard that reads, Wish You Were Here!

And resentment bubbles within you.

I could have been, if you’d have invited me.

You shove your phone back into your pocket and do a quick glance around the room to check if anyone might have noticed the tears welling in your eyes, but you’re safe. 

Luke’s attention is on the table, the rest of the boys’ attention is on him, and you slip away before he has the chance to meet your eye - to see straight through you in the way only he knows how, and make your way to the kitchen in the search of something stronger.

When you push your way through the door, whatever weird feeling that has been consuming you for the past week culminates into something bigger.

Something darker, and heavier, and angrier, like a tornado of emotions tearing through your very core, picking up every last bit of restraint on it’s way as your eyes narrow onto it’s next target.

“You have got to be fucking kidding me.”

Jack pulls back in a daze from the blonde who’s face he was just suctioned to, brows furrowed as his intoxicated gaze zeroes in on you.

He slurs out your name, glaring like he’s trying to get his eyes to focus before they roll dramatically, and he runs a hand through his messy hair.

“Jesus, what do you want?”

“Maybe for you to have some respect, or is that a little too much to ask?”

“Could you give us a minute?” He asks the girl in front of him, who scowls at you before walking off, shouldering past you to exit the kitchen as you stare Jack down. “Why are you being such a psycho?”

“I’m sick of you messing Ellie around, Hughes, I’m not gonna just stand around and let you play with her heart like she means nothing to you anymore.”

“She’s not even here,” he scoffs, “She won’t find out unless you tell her.”

“And you think I won’t? She’s my friend, Jack, we tell each other everything.”

“Yeah? She tell you how she’s into Cole?”

“No. Because she isn’t.” You’d cleared that up with her a while ago, asking her straight up if something was going on - and she had said no. She wouldn’t lie to you.

“Then why do I keep getting told that she is? Why is everyone seeing them out together all the time? Why is she texting him tonight and not me?”

“Maybe ‘cause you’re making it your mission to stick your tongue down other girls throats all the time. This entire summer, you’ve done nothing but avoid your feelings so much that maybe she thinks you’re not into her. Maybe you need to pull your head out of your ass and talk to her like a grown fucking adult and stop playing stupid games with her heart.”

“You’re one to talk.”

“And you should be fucking listening. If you keep messing her around, you’ll lose her for good,” you threaten, with a jab of a pointed finger into his chest.

Jack looks flushed, cheeks pink, lips puffy, eyes red-rimmed and hair a mess as he looks back at you - and it’s like he’s functioning in slow motion, you can practically see the cogs turning in his inebriated brain as he comes up with some way to jab back, some way to make you hurt the way the thought of Ellie leaving does to him, just to avoid admitting you’re right.

“What, like how you keep messing my brother around?” 

“Excuse me?” You scoff, stepping back when he jabs a finger at you.

“You heard me,” he snarls, “Leading him on like some lovesick puppy while you couldn’t care less about him.”

“Is that what he said?”

“No, funnily enough he won’t even talk to me about you,” Jack’s glare sends a shiver down your spine, one that overrides the buzz of pride at him following your instruction - you know this level of animosity comes from the swirling of intoxication and frustration, he doesn’t actually hate you, the two of you have gotten on somewhat in the past couple of weeks, despite him making out otherwise, but this is different. This makes you feel small, like a speck of something fragile, ready to be stomped and crushed under his irate foot. And it’s not the kind of small you usually like. The kind of small where you compare yourself to the bigger picture. No, this hurts. Aches. Itches in a way that you need to relieve, immediately. “But I bet that’s your doing, because that’s how toxic you are, making it so he can’t even confide in his brother about his feelings. Feelings that you just want to stampede all over like they’re nothing. Break his heart like it’s some kind of sport.”

That isn’t true. 

That’s not who you are.

That’s not what you’re doing, not what you want.

You know how it feels to have someone break your heart like that, you’d never do that to Luke.

“Go fuck yourself, Jack.” Is all you can mutter out in defence of yourself before you’re shouldering past him, barging through the uninterested crowd and stomping out of the kitchen.

You think it’s the need to feel bigger that has you poking your head into every room in search of him - the person who had ingrained the notion of needing to feel bigger to feel better to your memory - only able to find comfort in a mop of messy curls that sits on top of a head higher than the rest. It’s what has you grasping at his hand when you do find him outside on the deck, dragging him wordlessly - and thankfully enough, without protest - back through the rest of his house, and to his room before you push him down onto the bed, instructing him to move up and sit against the headboard before you straddle his lap.

You kiss away his questions, fingers clumsily working at the buttons of his shirt until you can tear it off, swallowing down his confusion into your own mouth as he shrinks into your advances.

When you start to grind down into him is when he gains back some level of consciousness, large hands grasping at your waist and pushing until your lips part with a loud smack. And you’re both breathless, panting against each others mouths as he tries to figure you out, looking up at you with a furrowed brow and swollen lips.

“What’s going on?” He asks, eyes darting around you in concern.

Concern that makes you feel larger than life - makes your chest expand and your heart swell and your lungs fill with so much air that you feel like you might float away. To have someone look at you like that, care about you like that, want you for more than what bare bones you’re offering to him, what everyone else wants you for, it makes you feel gigantic.

Like a hot air balloon, carried to far away lands by the flames of his affections.

And if they shut off, you’ll drop into oblivion. Breaking suddenly from the airy mechanics that keep you afloat, plunging at great speeds until you inevitably hit the earth with an almighty, painful splat.

You never did like falling.

“I want you.”

His face scrunches a little as he thinks - thinks a little too hard for someone who’s been pursuing you all summer - and before he can question it, you reach for the hem of your top, pulling it off until you’re left in just your lacy bra, your skirt riding up as your legs fall to either side of his hips.

It’s the most you’ve ever given him aside from being around him in your bikini and the one time you had changed and he hadn’t turned around quick enough, and before you can feel self conscious about it, you feel his eyes rake down the long expanse of your bare skin.

And the way he looks at you now makes you feel even bigger - a hunger in his eyes that tells you he could spend the rest of his time on earth working his way through every inch of you, savouring whatever parts of you that you’ll let him get a taste of, and he’ll never let you go.

“Please?” You’re already technically on your knees, what harm can begging do if it just makes him do something?

You don’t want to talk about it like you know he’s about to ask, don’t want to have to explain why you sought him out, why, for once, you didn’t care that people might see the two of you holding hands, you marching him to his bedroom and him following like exactly what Jack had said - a lovesick puppy.

You just want him. Want to feel bigger. Want to feel wanted. 

Want to give in to the part of you that has been dying to fold to him all summer, to let him close that gap, to break down the barriers you’ve been desperately guarding.

He cranes his neck to press a sweet kiss to your lips - one lacking the intensity from before, but not the adoration he always manages to pack in there - the kind that twists at your gut until you can’t take it anymore.

“Please,” you whisper against his lips, kissing him again. “Give me something to hold onto when you’re gone.”

You figure if you use his own words against him - words uttered teasingly, but truthfully, earlier - he’ll give in.

The thought of losing this, of him leaving and finding something better, of distance being wedged between you for the first time all summer and finally giving him clarity, making him see you for what everyone else thinks you are.

Maybe if you give him what he really wants he’ll hold on a little longer.

It’s not like you don’t want it, too.

“You only had the one drink?” He asks, responding with fervour, the pressure of his kiss starting to build. “The one I got you?”

“Didn’t even finish it,” you kiss him again, “Stone cold sober,” and again, fingers trailing between you to work at the button on his jeans, “Want you now.”

“Yeah,” he lifts his hips and helps you pull his pants down, a clumsy shuffle to temporarily part while he wriggles them off, “Want you, too.” He mutters before leaning in to kiss at the corner of your mouth, “Wanted you for so long.”

There’s a voice inside that itches to tell him, I know, but it’s quickly shut up by another - a voice that’s louder, a voice you can’t ignore anymore when it comes to Luke.

A voice that tells you, you know nothing.

[wyye-en]

ᯓᡣ𐭩 head over heels.

"can we always be this close? forever and ever."

- lover, taylor swift

player 388 | kang dae-ho x female reader

cont. fluff

YOU and your childhood best friend, Kang Dae-ho, was currently hanging out at the beach.

The cold breeze of the air along with the heat coming from the sun gave you the perfect temperature to bathe in the sun.

You were laying on your front. His slippery hands glided across your back, massaging it. The right pressure of his palm brought you pleasure, making you relax and rest comfortably.

Seeing your relaxed expression, he couldn't hold himself back and complain, "Did you just bring me here to be your personal massager?"

You responded with an unbothered tone, "How'd you know?"

The way you answered irked him so much, making him put more strength on his massage.

"Ouch, asshole! It was a joke!"

You whined, sitting down while sending glares at his direction. Feigning ignorance, he sat down on the beach chair besides yours, placing your shades in his face.

You rolled your eyes in return, standing up as you grabbed the nearest item on your side, his beach ball.

He removed the shades, allowing you to see his cute frown, "Hey! That's mine!"

You stick your tongue out, "Then come and get it then!"

Both of you ran around the sandy beach, laughing loudly as if the two of you were the only ones in the beach.

Watching your cheery expression, Dae-ho couldn't take his eyes off of your smile. He didn't know why but something inside him warms up whenever he sees you happy.

He thinks seeing your smile is something to die for.

You, on the other hand, raise an eyebrow at his unusual stare, wondering what could be going on inside is head. You continued running, looking at the man chasing after you from time to time.

However, out of nowhere, a tall figure stood straight and tall in the direction you were running to.

"Watch out!"

You heard Dae-ho yell. However, it was already too late. Your body crashed against the stranger, causing you to fall heavily in the sand.

Without even letting you stand up on your own, the man started yelling, sending you rude insults.

Dae-ho immediately rushed over to your side, trying to talk to the man in order to calm the situation down. You tried to apologize sincerely, but the man doesn't seem to care at all as he continued releasing out of hand profanities ay you. Despite feeling Dae-ho's hand squeeze yours, telling you to be careful, you believed yourself that you could handle the situation.

Unfortunately to you, the man started waving his arms around, hovering over your head. You were starting to feel scared as you backed away. The man noticed, becoming furious as he also got way too closer to your liking.

Dae-ho, witnessing this, instinctively rushed between you and the man.

"Hey, mister. I know you're angry but you're going overboard here."

His gaze turned cold, as if he was ready to fight the man any second now.

This scene made your heart beat a little bit faster than it should be. Is this a dream? Is Kang Dae-ho really defending you?

The man, seeing the cold gaze of Dae-ho, suddenly felt intimidated.

He was ready to take on the younger man if only he didn't see the guards approaching from a distance. The man cursed under his breath, before leaving without saying another word. And by the time the guards arrive, everything was already finished.

ᯓᡣ𐭩

Like a statue, your body remained frozen from your current position.

You and Dae-ho was currently inside the hotel room that you booked before visiting the island. The two of you were laying on the bed, watching TV.

Even though your eyes were on the screen, you couldn't help but wander your eyes to him.

Feeling your eyes on him, he turned to you ready to stand up, "What is it? Do you want something right now? I'll get it for you."

You giggled, shaking your head. You leaned your head on the soft pillow. You brought your eyes back on him and whispered, "You were really cool back there... thank you for defending me, Dae-ho."

Kang Dae-ho was caught of guard— so were you.

Seeing his speechless expression, you shifted your head away from him back to the TV, acting as if nothing happened.

He was glad you weren't looking at him and see his now flustered expression after letting each words sink inside his head. He never had someone say something so sincerely about him.

You didn't know what came to your mind and where did you get the courage you had at that moment to say something outrageous, but something inside you felt the need to say it.

With him trying to maintain his composure, he leaned closer to your side, "What did you say just now?"

"I'm not repeating anything," you mumbled, covering your beet red face.

Then everything went silent.

This time, you didn't dare break it, you had enough doing embarrassing things today. That's yourself back from doing something out of hand.

Thankfully, Dae-ho decided to break the silence this time by also doing something outrageous.

His pair of hands grasped yours, gently removing them, allowing him to see your face once again.

Seriously, you think closing your eyes would make a difference?

The tension you felt made you want to dig a hole and burry you whole existence inside it. You could hear him stifle a laugh at your cute display. But he held back and whispered, "You think I'm cool?"

You refused to respond.

"If you don't say anything, I'm going to do something that'd make you really turn into a tomato."

"..."

He leaned closer, "I- does this mean, yes?"

Dae-ho's face was so close you could feel his hot breath on your lips.

"Say something... please?"

Unbeknownst to you, he was hesitant. Yes, he does want to kiss you. But his thoughts couldn't help but think negatively of the consequences after.

What if you think he sucks at kissing?

Would you mock him— no, you'd never do that. But the thought of that happening made him more hesitant.

On the other hand, you were getting impatient.

Was he teasing you right now?

Is this a joke to him— but he would never go that far, playing with someone's feelings is way out of line.

So, why wouldn't he do it?!

You opened your eyes, a frown visibility showing on your face as you pulled your hands free from his grasp.

His expression faltered for a second, unsure at what to do at the moment.

"I think you're the coolest— just not at this field."

You wrapped you arms around his neck, pulling him closer. And without wasting any more second, your lips crashed onto his.

- fin -

©wyye-en 12|31|2024

[theroundbartable]

There is only one sentence Gwen has ever spoken that I dislike. Mostly because it doesn't sound like her and because of how easily it can be misread in context. Which was perhaps the purpose of the scene and that made the whole thing unconvincing.

It's right after the 'betrayal' or how else you would call the enchantment that befell her to kiss Lancelot. Arthur calls her to speak with him and while Arthur is a WHOLE problem in that moment, I don't like her answer.

"I want to be your Queen."

Guinevere couldn't care less about the title. She loves Arthur, she wants to marry him and be his wife. She wants to share everything with him, she's not supposed to be in it for the crown. But that's how this reads and I don't feel like she would have said that.

It's a small thing to nitpick about, I know. But no matter how often I see it, it just feels wrong. Maybe if I read it as 'Bearing the crown is a burden to you and I wish to help you', in this moment, when she kissed another (enchantment or not), it should not have been her main focus.

Gwen would have married Arthur had he been a farmer, no? Had he actually forsaken his right to the throne and run away with her in the first Dragoon episode, she would still have been with him.

I dunno. It's just a weird sentence coming from her. Perhaps you feel different? Let me know.

[heartsriki]

Under the Autumn Leaves ⌇ 가을

pairing ᝰ nishimura riki x fem!reader ⌇ word count: 1.3k+

𓂃 after an embarrassing moment in class leading Riki to the infirmary, you guys finally have your first heart warming encounter.

⌇… warnings & genre ↺ fluff, school au, cussing, reader is a pushover and oblivious.

lee's ₊˚⊹ ᰔ comment ┊ my first fic! I had sm fun writing this :) Hope you like it fr!

“You got everything done, right?” she asked, her tone sharp as she stood over you, arms crossed and a piercing glare fixed on your slouched figure.

You looked up from where you were seated on the bench, blinking. Looking away from her, you checked your surroundings, making sure no one was around. “I’m almost done, okay? Just have a few things to finish up.”

It was an everyday occurrence. Someone handed you work, and with zero compensation, you ended up doing it, wanting to live a peaceful school life.

“Hm. Okay then, turn it in as soon as you finish,” she murmured, walking away and eyeing her phone. The crinkle of the autumn leaves followed under her feet.

Sighing, you went back to work. Better to finish now than later, right? You were unaware of the schools notorious delinquent paying close attention to the whole situation. He was always around you, but somehow, you always failed to notice.

Riki scoffed. “For a smart kid, she sure is dumb sometimes.”

If someone were to ask you about Riki, you wouldn’t be able to say much. He was barely at school, but when he was, he was very intimidating yet popular. The only times you would interact were when you got seated next to him constantly to be a ‘good influence,’ but even then, he wouldn’t spare a word.

The bell to return to class rang through the courtyard. You packed up your things quickly and headed to class.

Riki walked into class late as always. As he searched around the classroom, he saw his seat that resided next to yours, but instead of seeing you focused and working as always, you were asleep.

His chest puffed up and down in frustration. Why was he getting so worked up over this random girl?

After an earful from the teacher, Riki sat down in his seat next to yours. He ignored you, surprised at how you hadn’t been caught sleeping yet.

Riki occasionally spared you glances until he examined the shine the sun gave your hair and how peaceful you looked when you weren’t swamped with work for once. Your lips glowed, and your eyebrows were furrowed. You just looked so goddamn beautiful. He gazed at you with conflicted feelings and saw a leaf that got caught in your hair. It was probably from you always sitting under that tree. Your usual spot.

Riki unknowingly reached for it, but that’s when you opened your eyes, squinting, revealing the scene in front of you. “Riki?”

He blinked and looked at his arm near your face. His breath got caught in his throat, which caused him to start coughing furiously.

Hand placed over his mouth, he started looking everywhere but you to cover up his embarrassment.

“Mr. Nishimura, is something wrong?” asked the teacher with concern.

“Yes. Can I go to the infirmary?”

“Go ahead, quickly.”

Riki quickly stood up, leaving without giving you another word.

You sat up with confusion. “What’s up with him?”

Class ended, but for some reason, Riki hadn’t come back since he left. You paid it no attention, though. Riki didn’t like it when people interfered with his business.

You were one foot out of the classroom until your name caught your attention. “L/N, could you please take Nishimura’s stuff to the infirmary?”

“Of course… I can,” you gave a fake smile.

Dragging your arms dramatically back to his desk, you started organizing the stuff into his bag. He took notes today… That’s odd.

You excused yourself and started walking to the infirmary. Seriously, what was the holdup? Is he sick—maybe he passed out? Paranoid thoughts flocked your mind until you came face to face with the door.

Sighing, you placed your hand on the doorknob until you looked through the window. Riki was sitting on the window sill, admiring the view it gave. You never took the time to look at Riki, but he sure is… handsome.

You knocked three times before entering with a shy smile. The look he gave you was as blank as ever. “Hey, Riki. I brought your bag. Is everything alright?”

His gaze followed your figure as you placed his bag on the bed next to him. “Did you take the notes?”

You blinked at him. “No worries, they’re in your bag—”

“Take them,” he whispered in a low, croaky voice, quickly looking away.

Confused, you checked his bag again and pulled out the notes. You skimmed them before realizing these notes were unfamiliar.

“You were asleep when she went over today’s instructions,” Riki looked down at his fingers and started fidgeting with them.

Scanning the notes again, you smiled. “You wrote these for me?”

“No! I mean—yes? I just didn’t want you to bother me about it later, okay?” he clarified quickly.

You felt an unfamiliar warmth in your cheeks and started giggling. Who knew Riki Nishimura, the cold and delinquent big shot, could be so cute?

Riki squinted at you from his perch on the window sill, his sharp gaze making you shrink slightly under its intensity. He started striding toward you, his demeanor making it clear he was about to give you a piece of his mind.

But then he stopped. His steps faltered as he tilted his head, a flicker of amusement breaking into his smile.

“Hold on—” he muttered, his voice laced with suppressed laughter. His hand reached up, plucking a crinkled leaf from where it had been sitting on your head.

Riki couldn’t hold it in anymore. His serious demeanor dissolved as a burst of laughter escaped him, the sound echoing through the room.

“You—how long has that been there?!” You hastily placed your hands over your hair, searching for another one.

Riki teasingly smiled at you, still laughing. “Ever since the courtyard.”

You scoffed. “You just notice everything, don’t you? Ugh, you are so insufferable.”

“Yeah, well,” he smirked, tossing the leaf aside, “you’ll get used to it, pretty.”

— BONUS 𝜗𝜚˚⋆

Riki dragged himself to the infirmary, a cough still rattling in his chest. He muttered under his breath, “Shit—that was so embarrassing.”

With a sigh, he pushed open the door, only to come face-to-face with the doctor, who raised an eyebrow at his dramatic entrance.

“Nishimura. Long time no see,” the doctor said, leaning back in his chair. “Another fight, huh?” He stood, crossing his arms as he studied Riki.

Riki groaned, flopping onto the bed. “No, no fight. I think I have heartburn. Just give me a pill or something.”

The doctor let out a hearty laugh. “Heartburn? You? Now this is new. What’s going on? Totally out of character.”

Riki huffed, turning his face toward the wall. “There’s this girl… Y/N.”

“Ah, I see.” The doctor’s grin widened as he turned to shuffle some papers on his desk.

“She’s so—”

“Infuriating?”

“Yes! And—”

“Stupid?”

“Not only that, but she’s also—”

“Pretty?”

“Yes—wait, what?” Riki whipped his head toward the doctor, his eyes wide with disbelief.

The doctor smirked knowingly. “I think that ‘heartburn’ you’re feeling is called butterflies, Nishimura.”

Riki rolled his eyes, hitting the pillow beneath his head to make himself more comfortable. “Yeah, no, that’s definitely not it.”

“Sure,” the doctor said with a teasing tone. “Stay here and calm down. I’ll tell your teacher to advise Y/N to come down here with your stuff.”

Riki sat up quickly, panic flashing in his eyes. “What? Wait, really—”

The doctor only flashed him a mischievous look before stepping out and shutting the door behind him.

Left alone, Riki’s nerves got the best of him. He sat up, pulled out his phone, and checked his reflection, fussing with his hair for a moment before realizing what he was doing. With a groan, he threw his phone aside and buried his face in the pillow, letting out a muffled sigh.

“I’m so screwed,” he muttered, flopping back onto the bed, utterly defeated.

[covetyou]

single rider

ao3 ⋆ main masterlist

pairing: Dieter Bravo x gn!reader  rating: teen (18+ only blog!)  warnings: broken theme park rides, fluff, hand holding, scared!Dieter, Cliff Beasts slander, swearing, seriously so much hand holding though. word count: 2.5k  summary: Not a thing goes wrong when you visit a theme park for festive fun with friends. Not a single thing at all.

A/N: happy dieter bravo brainrot club secret santa-mas @burntheedges! I'm so sorry this is basically at the last possible minute (15 minutes late, actually). The spoon drawer is empty and I'm working with forks rn.

I took liberties with your "accidentally booked the same rental" and "randomly assigned tour buddies" prompts and mashed them up with the real life experience of getting stuck on Toy Story Mania for like 10 minutes in 2023 (let me tell you, that music does NOT stop). it makes sense, I promise.

 @dieterbravobrainrotclub

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The time mocks you, numbers glaring down bright in the darkness. Seventy-Five minutes. Over an hour of your time. In a queue.

Another day, it'd be funny. Another day, you'd have the time to spare, no friends waiting in the parking lot for you to ride the one thing they all refused to. You suppose that's what you get for coming here with a bunch of thrill seekers.

You didn't really understand their objection. The thing had thrills and excitement, just not the kind that would flip you upside down and launch you into the air at a million miles an hour. It wasn't old and decrepit like some other rides.

Okay, so it wasn't exactly new, either. Or good. You knew that.

But you liked it. You liked the jaunty music and the silly little shooting game - pelting eggs at anything and everything that popped up as you slowly trundled through scene after scene. It was charming. Nostalgic, somehow, despite only being something you ever experienced as an adult. It was exactly what you needed after an entire evening of listening to your nearest and dearest scream themselves hoarse on rollercoasters.

But seventy-five fucking minutes? Was it worth seventy-five minutes?

The people still joining the queue seem to think so. The bored looking attendant waving them through seems less thrilled, staring into the middle distance as they absentmindedly wave group after group into the line.

That was just the thing. Even on a regular day, the queue was something to behold. It was cheesy and tacky and glorious, everything you wanted just about every day of the year. But, every year, they did something special for the holidays. A festive overlay like you've never seen. Gaudy and horrendous in all the right ways, and part of you just needed to see it.

"Single-riders can queue over there."

It takes you a moment to realize the monotone drone of the ride attendant is directed at you, standing frowning up at the sign that now reads eighty minutes.

The attendant speaks again, waving one hand to guide yet more people into the rapidly growing queue, while thrusting a thumb over to another sign - arrow pointed away from the main queue - that says single rider.

"But does it -" you start, before that same monotonous drawl cuts you off.

"Still got the decorations."

Naturally, you don't even think before you're moving. Even when the single-rider line looks supiciously like an emergency exit.

It's not. It's everything you hoped. You track alongside the queues and groups, music blaring and people laughing and chattering over it all. Outdated animatronics from all over the park sit in here, draped in holiday outfits, santa hats flopping around on their stuttering heads.

And then, once you've breezed past all eighty minutes of queue in no time at all, you make it to the front of an empty line, feeling like you've cheated the system and screwed over all the people infinitely more patient than you.

"Six to a car! Split up your groups! Six to a car! Three each side!"

You know the drill, even if the other people do not. Groups of four trying to scramble to fit into sides with only three launchers and not nearly enough ass space. Others getting split awkwardly between multiple cars. All while you stand, and wait, for whatever space you might be slotted into.

It takes all of two minutes. You missed who loaded into the front side of your car - too busy grinning to yourself at a particularly shitty animatronic and the absolutely not PG way it's moving in it's old age - but you're being called over and loaded into the car and whisked away to the training room in no time, the little jerking goblin soon forgotten.

And fuck is it just as delightful as you'd hoped.

Baubles and ornaments replace the eggbasket - each one smashing against targets as they hit home, no bursting yolk in sight. The car spins and turns with each new room, and you're poised and ready to begin firing each time, jingling bells and twinkling lights guiding you through scene after scene.

Even if you waited eighty minutes, it would've been worth it, you think as the car flips again, sliding you to one side as you begin shooting again, the sounds of giggles and shouts from other cars drowned out by your own laughter.

The score on your screen rapidly increases. You miss the hot air balloon, but you knock back the snowman with an ornament straight to the head. The big 1000 pointer just escapes you, but you nail three 750s in quick succession. You don't hear the swearing from your car mate, back to back and shielded from each other as you both are.

You're so lost in it, racking up points and taking in the music and carnage in front of you, that you're still shooting when the lights dim and the swaying car grinds to a halt. The launcher in your hand becomes unresponsive, the music going around and around in a loop as other cars start to look around with the same question in their eyes as you.

What the fuck is going on?

"Sit tight, the ride will begin moving again shortly!"

You don't believe the automated voice coming through the loud speaker the first time, and you certainly don't believe it the fifth. After eight minutes, you're starting to understand just why the queue was so long in the first place.

Then, just as you tap out a frantic message to your waiting friends, your car starts to rock and shuffle, your unseen car-mate moving around behind you.

"Hello?" comes a man's voice, just about audible over the repeated cycle of music.

"Anyone there?" he asks, a knock to the back of his seat making your turn in yours.

"I'm here."

You expect to make small talk with the unseen stranger until the ride starts moving again. You expect to never see his face and just shout over the music, between the calls of the automated message, having a stilted conversation until you're both back to shooting again.

You don't expect the ride car to sway again, or to hear scrambling feet on plastic, and you certainly don't expect to first seen an arm, then a foot, then a scruffy head, clamber around the side of the car, feet not touching the ground as he switches sides to sit right next to you.

"Thank fuck," he says breathlessly when he plops himself next to you in the car, looking around with frantic, terrified eyes.

You gape at him. Usually you'd be scared of a strange man climbing into your ride car, but his own look of terror far eclipses yours and, beyond that, you're certain you know him from somewhere.

"Are you okay?" you ask tentatively when his eyes shoot from side to side at the start of another loop of that music, once jaunty and cheesy in a fun way, now infuriating and borderline creepy.

"No!" he says. "Have you seen this shit?"

He finally looks at you - you definitely know him from somewhere - and you're stunned. He's a mess of scruffy, curly hair and patchy beard. He might be tanned in other lighting, but right now he just looks a splotchy mess of technicolor wearing loungewear and, fuck, is he beautiful.

Another sudden burst of color - a light glitching and resetting, yet again - and he recoils in the seat next to you.

"Oh fuck no. This is some Willy Wonka and the Chocolate Factory shit," he shouts, gripping the bar in front of him with white knuckles. He's looking around frantically, as if terrorized by the idea of Santa on his sleigh, until a jaunty looking snowman pops up and has Dieter throwing himself back in his seat with a yelp.

"The one with Gene-"

"Yes the one with Gene Wilder, there is no other."

He's holding himself now. It's surprisingly endearing watching him restrain himself from gripping onto you, and instead clutching his hands tightly to his arms, while he shakes his head and mutters something about how he can't believe this.

"Scared?" you probe, and he shakes his head again.

"You cannot tell me this isn't nightmare fuel."

You shrug. "I like the ride."

"So do I, but this," he says, flapping around to the swirling lights, "is not what I signed up for. I queued an hour for this. I've had bad trips better than this. This would be better on a bad trip."

The announcement sounds again - shortly feeling like more and more of an infuriating lie each time you hear it - and the man takes a deep breath, slouching back into the seat, releasing his arms, and gripping the plastic edge of it.

You don't know what compells you. You never would do something like this usually - you are a strictly hands-off person where strangers or vague acquantances are concerned. Still, you reach for his hand where it sits near to you on the plastic bench seat, and grip it softly in your own.

"What - What're you doing?" he asks, letting his hand sit limp in yours.

You clear your throat and stare ahead at the repeating scene on the screen - hot air balloon, target, Santa's sleigh, snowman, fireworks, hot air balloon, target, Santa's sleigh...

"Holding your hand."

He nods, as if that's all he needed to know, and looks ahead too, shuffling a little in his seat. You both watch another full cycle, the lights dancing in the same exact pattern they have over, and over again, and you think this must be how you go insane, sat trapped here on a ride car with a beautiful, if slightly unhinged, strangers hand in yours.

"Why?"

You blink. You're stupid. You're weird. You're unhinged. He climbed around the side of the car and yet you've out-stranged him in one simple movement, and now you're stuck here, committed to the bit until -

"You're scared. It's nice to have someone when you're scared," you say quickly, uncertain as you possibly could be as the words tumble out of your mouth. In truth, you don't really know why you did it, or why you're still doing it, other than he seemed like he needed it. And maybe you did too.

He just grunts, and you sit in as much silence as you can among the repetitive chaos of the ride.

Then, with no warning, he starts moving his thumb, stroking the side of your hand in a gentle wave of movement. Your breath catches, and you watch from the corner of your eye as his nervous energy dissipates until he slouches against the seat of the car.

"Dieter. I'm D - fuck - Dieter," he says softly, a red and green light blasting him right in the face and making him wince.

But then it hits you. Not the light - that, thankfully, stays on the other side of the car, blinding a squinting Dieter beside you.

No. It's this man. Dieter. You know him. You've seen him on your TV about a million times this last month - that shitty movie always plays just before Christmas, and this year is no exception. The movie was terrible, for all you'd seen of it. It was some ensemble cast mostrosity with terrible CGI monsters and even worse acting, not at all festive in the slightest and made even more annoying by the ads littered throughout it.

From what you remember, he was terrible too. An Oscar winning actor, cast in some movie so shitty it didn't even gain a cult following. The only thing you heard was any good was the documentary that came out of it, but if your friends were to be believed, that was only good because of copious amounts of explosions and illicit substances.

He sighs, easily spotting whatever baffled look just slapped you in the face the moment you realised his identity, and looks away from you.

"Yeah, that Dieter."

"Cool," you choke out.

Because it kind of is. It's not every day you get stuck on a ride with a famous actor. It's not every day you get to hold his hand and have him stroke soothing circles across your knuckles. It's not every day you get to see just how much more beautiful he is up close compared to his slick-haired, eyelinered counterpart in that god damned movie.

"Sit tight, the ride will begin moving again shortly!"

"Bullshit," he grumbles from beside you, shifting closer to your side so he can rest your arm against the seat.

"Favorite food?" you ask suddenly.

"What?"

"Favorite food? Time's gonna pass anyway, may as well fill it with something that isn't hot air balloon, target, sleigh, snowman -"

"I hate that fuckin' snowman. Tacos. Yours?"

"Who doesn't love tacos."

The ride never does get started again.

Instead, minutes pass, and you throw question after question back and forth with Dieter. The lights go out. He grips your hand a little tighter, and you pull to scoot him a little closer. The lights come up. The spell is broken. The nightmare is over. You're fairly sure you'll have that song ringing in your ears for weeks.

You still hold his hand.

One by one the ride cars are evacuated. Yours is last. Dieter helps you down from the car, his hand finding yours again, still warm from being in his for so long.

Then, you're walking beside an illuminated track and blank screens, abandoned ride car after abandoned ride car, and you're free, with Dieter by your side.

You escape via the gift shop - the novelty toys and candy ignored, Dieter's hand guiding you toward the exit so he can throw his head back in glee at the sight of the wide open sky above him.

In your pocket, your phone buzzes frantically, messages bombarding you now that you weren't trapped in the depths of a metal building. 6 new messages. 2 missed calls. Your friends, still waiting in the parking lot, trying to reach you while the lights blared and the music played.

>>did the ride eat you?

>>if she doesn't hurry up i'm gonna eat her

>>sorry I get grouchy when I'm hungry

>>have you got locked in the bathroom again?

>>THE QUEUE IS OVER AN HOUR?!>!?!?!

>>this egg game owes us dinner

"You want tacos?" Dieter asks from beside you as you hastily tap out a reply, and before you can answer you look up to see him striding away into the crowd, parting the stream of foot traffic with his broad frame until it engulfs him.

You can't help the feeble whimper that escapes you when you watch him walk away. Or the way your arms fall limply to your side when he's out of your view and gone.

You can't help the smile, either, that pulls at your cheeks when he bobs and weaves back through the crowd, stopping a few steps away and jabbing the thumb on one hand over his shoulder and holding the other out to you.

"You coming?" he shouts, with an expectant look on his face, and with a swipe of your thumb, the message is deleted, quickly replaced by another as you make your way toward him, hand reaching for his.

>you guys go ahead, I'm gonna be a while longer

[everythingseasoning]

love, forever?

Vampire! Suguru x reader

impulsively started writing vampire! Suguru x reader, with a blooming rivalry between Satoru & reader for Suguru’s attention. oh, and there’s new vampire lore, and angst: Suguru can’t bear to hurt reader when his human blood cravings flare up, so he breaks up with reader. we start off the story with heartbroken reader, and the emotionally oblivious, playful, talented and sexy vampire! Satoru going after reader (for reasons you’ll learn about in chapter 1). this story kinda has parallels to Geto’s canon angst as well. eventual smut.

Ch. 01 Teaser

NOTE: if you saw the teaser already, please feel free to read the following again, as I’ve edited it a lot and added in more juicy dialogue & scenes ;)

The drink is nothing short of young and dumb, the blend of tooth-rottingly sweet flavors hitting your taste buds as you stare holes into Suguru’s back. You can see the sculpture of his muscles and beautiful bones through his tight tee, your ex’s sculpted body turned away from you. He’s speaking to a girl you had heard about— the life of all parties, pretty, smart, and fun. You take another swig from the plastic blue cup, hoping the heaviness in your heart would be soon forgotten. Yogurt, sherbert, coca cola, and cheap alcohol would be your poison of the night, you think, swallowing down the concoction as tears prick your eyes.

“Another one of those people who drinks their troubles away?”

The voice amidst the bass and booming music causes you to turn, your eyes meeting striking blue ones. Snowy hair rests soft and thick on his head, your heart skipping a beat to see such a beautiful stranger.

If you were being honest, you weren’t in the mood to talk to somebody else— not when your heart was still tied right onto Suguru’s. You love Suguru, you really do. The recent past haunts your every waking moment. And even in your dreams, he’s there, smiling, chuckling as you braid his hair, reading a nonfiction book while your fingers thread his silky locks; He’s watching you with a fond smile as you run ahead of him in the campus garden, jumping amongst the flowers; Holding you as the two of you kiss— his soft, supple lips meeting yours in that familiar dance and tangle. In your dreams he’s still yours. You both made up. In your dreams, things are warm and right again.

When you wake up in an empty bed, with an aching heart, it just feels cruel. The light slipped away again. You thought you had it. You had your dream come true only to realize it was just that— a fucking dream. There’s no respite from the memory of all his adoration, thoughtful gestures, all the times you’d stare mesmerized as he sat focused, his eyebrows pinched as he worked… The way he felt when you were wrapped in his embrace— being fucking cared for— you missed him bad, with every fiber of your being.

He’s still all you can think about. You’re at this damned college party because, even a month after he’d broken up with you, all you wanted was to be close to him, to see him. It’s pathetic. Knowing he’d be here, knowing you’d be tearing your heart open again, the wound freshly cut back open— and still, you came here. How many times had you stalked his social media despite having been removed from his following?

“Cat got your tongue?” The beautiful stranger breaks you out of your thoughts, forcing a reply.

“No—” you start to say, raising your voice. It’s just barely audible over the clamor of the party.

“Really?” He butts in, raising an eyebrow. “‘Cause it seems like there’s some hard evidence against your statement.” His small smile is as unconventional as it is disarming.

“And you are?”

“Satoru Gojo, if you haven’t heard about me already. I go to a different university. A better one.”

You roll your eyes, scoffing. “And why would I know of you?”

The stranger, Satoru, just tilts his head ever so slightly, his smile unwavering as he replies, “Your head is under a rock, is what I heard you say.”

Confusion flits across your face before your mouth falls open slightly, a feigned look of offense stretched on your features. You feel like ignoring this pesky stranger. You glance away for a second, in search of Suguru’s back— the spot he’d been standing in holds a different person, somebody you don’t know, somebody you’re not at all interested in. You frown, scanning the crowd.

The stranger, Satoru, waves a hand in front of your face. You look up at him, annoyed.

“Why are you talking to me?”

“What? Need a reason to talk to a pretty girl?”

“That’s an overused line,” You shout back, the music so loud you can barely hear yourself. Your attention shifts away from the snowy haired man, back to the sea of party goers. You desperately search the throng of buzzing chaos. No sign of Suguru. Just dancing, mingling, kissing, drinking, the typical activities going on under the strobe lights. Fuck.

Suguru, where did you go? Please… Your heart feels like it’s a rock in your stomach. Please don’t tell me you’re fucking her right now in somebody’s bedroom. It’s not my business— but I can’t stand the thought of it—

Satoru chuckles, and you look back at him, unable to hide your expression of pain. You’re about to excuse yourself to find a bathroom to cry in, when he speaks again.

“You’re right. How should I flirt, hm? Wanna coach me? It’ll lift your blues, too,” His smirk would’ve had you folding had you not met Suguru. But you did cross paths with the raven-haired man— collided and intertwined, more like— and now nobody compares to him. Nobody would ever be him.

“Not really. Excuse me,” you begin to say, before turning slightly, about to slip away—

“Suguru is my best friend,” the stranger says.

You freeze, whipping around now to face Satoru.

“He told me about you— first time he ever told me about anyone, actually. Suguru said you were somebody he actually loved.” Satoru’s cheeky expression has been wiped off, replaced with one of aloof nonchalance and detachment. It’s almost eerie, but your attention is elsewhere.

You��re at a loss for words, eyes caught on Satoru’s, hanging onto everything he says like maybe, just maybe, it means that Suguru wants you back.

“He’s had his fair share of flings and hookups, after all.” Satoru teases, smirking again, bending down to your level.

“I thought I was losing my best friend to a weakling.” His breath is surprisingly chilly against your face. “Turns out you were never the one. Sucks that you couldn’t make him stay.” You feel everything shatter. “Sucks for you, I mean,” Satoru finishes. He leaves out the part where he gloats about being the one Suguru has always admired, and stuck with.

You’re shocked, mouth hanging open. Confusion, hurt, anger, betrayal— all the feelings clash like giant waves crashing against one another inside your heart.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?”

Satoru grins, shrugging. “It means what it means. But I’m curious,” he says, leaning closer, his pearly teeth glinting red under the strobe lights, “What is it about you that had Suguru caught up on ya?” His lips graze your cheek, his voice in your ear. “I don’t get it.”

You slap him before you can realize what you’re doing. Violence is not the answer, but this time, it sure as hell felt like it. Your fingers sting, your panicked thoughts a running train. Did I just? Oh my god! I didn’t— I fucking did—

“I— I’m sorry—” you stammer quickly, eyes wide in shock at your own actions. Satoru is eerily emotionless, staring down at you with those startling ocean eyes. You shiver despite the heat.

“Hm.”

It’s all he says. You open your mouth to speak again, blinking—

And he’s gone.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

A swig of the liquor causes the liquid to slosh in the green bottle.

“Thought you liked shy girls, Suguru?” Satoru pokes, a red handprint on his cheek. He’s kicked back on the couch outside the bathroom, grimacing when the alcohol hits his tongue, spitting it out back into the bottle.

“I do,” Suguru replies calmly, a streak of bare skin showing amidst the shaving cream on his face. He runs the razor back down, taking off more of the fluffy white foam.

“Yeesh. Can’t believe we used to drink this shit,” Satoru sticks his tongue on dramatically, tossing the full glass of alcohol across the room. It lands right in the trash bin with a clang. “That’s where it belongs,” he huffs.

“So?” Satoru prompts, kicking his feet up. “You realize she doesn’t fit your ideal type, right? Why’d you get with her for a whole year, man?”

“She was shy at first,” Suguru says softly, a glint of something like pain in his eyes. He catches Satoru’s gaze on him in the mirror and the glint disappears. Satoru doesn’t notice, now peeling open a candy from its foil wrapper. “And I told you already, Satoru,” Suguru continues, sparing his friend an exasperated glance. “I love— loved her.” A blip. A mistake so quickly covered that if it was anyone but Satoru, they’d miss.

Blue eyes pierce Suguru.

“But it wasn’t going to work out. Love isn’t meant for us. You and I… We’re not meant to be with humans,” Suguru murmurs, looking at his face in the mirror. It was myth that vampires didn’t have reflections. They did. Something the myths forgot though— vampires always have some sort of change written in their eyes. There will be some sort of difference from their human form, hidden in their eyes, after they turn. Suguru touches his eyebags, dark and heavy. That’s not what changed. No. His warm, earthy brown eyes had turned purple the night Satoru turned him. Rich amethyst irises gaze back at Suguru. He wishes he didn’t recognize them. Now he’s stuck dealing with people commenting on his “cool contacts,” for the rest of eternity. Suguru exhales deeply, softly, his still, dead heart aching.

“Being undead with a vital thirst for human blood will do that,” Satoru ho-hums, blissfully unaware of the insensitive nature of his obliviousness.

Suguru is silent, continuing to shave, but the blade knicks his skin. He curses quietly.

“So,” Satoru speaks with the chocolate melting on his tongue, grateful that at least his cravings and delight in sweets didn’t change when they turned, “You don’t trust yourself to be around her without hurting her. But you were with her for a year, doing well for a year. What do you say changed?”

Suguru dabs at the blood dripping down his otherwise unmarked face. It would heal, his skin would be perfectly smooth again in a day, not a trace of his mistake, or scar, would remain. All wounds heal within 24 hours for vampires.

“My urges got insatiable. Blood bags weren’t enough,” Suguru says curtly. Despite the battle of breaking up with you being long over, Suguru’s mind is a war zone. I couldn’t even look at her… without… needing to taste her blood. His fists clench on the marble sink. It got bad. I almost hurt her.

Satoru stares at his best friend, knowing that in this silence, his mind is a maelstrom. Suguru sees Satoru’s unflinching gaze, but remains quiet. He knows his friend won’t understand.

Satoru presses on anyway, nodding like he’s bored.

“Right. You can’t suppress your urges right now. That happened to me too. The second year is the hardest.” Satoru was the one who turned Suguru, after all. “It helps when you just feed on multiple pretty girls a night and compel them all to forget. You could’ve had both, you know. Her and human blood from others. You’re so mopey now.” Satoru’s callous remark piques Suguru’s irritation, a flame of anger burning in the raven-haired man’s chest.

“I won’t do that and be in a relationship.”

“I saw you feeding on that random chick an hour ago. But you’re still grumpy. You move around like you’re actually dead, Suguru. You torture yourself by still caring about your ex. She’s nothing special. I don’t get it.” Ah. The truth comes out.

Suguru’s eyebrows knit, his mouth pressed into a firm line as something dark flickers in his eyes.

“Satoru. First off, I only feed when they consent first. We both do that, and compel them to forget. And my ex, she has a name, and she’s worth something even if you can’t see it. Just shut up.”

“And what worth do you see in her?”

Suguru is silent for a moment. How could he convey the light and warmth that you were in his life? He’d died twice, once literally, once figuratively, and yet— you brought him back. “…She’s… good.”

“And?”

Suguru’s temper flares. “You just don’t get it, so will you just leave it?” He snarls, fangs involuntarily popping out.

“You’re such a grouch nowadays,” Satoru huffs, before popping another chocolate into his mouth. He gets up, stretching.

“Well. I need to feed again.”

“Be safe about it. And I’m not referring to your safety,” Suguru says sternly, his whole head turned to look at Satoru now, some white foam still on the man’s face.

“Yeah, yeah, mom, I got it.” With that, Satoru pulls his black coat over his lean, muscled body, a wolfish grin on his face as he slips out the apartment door.

— — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — — —

You’re intoxicated. It’s two AM and you’re stumbling around campus like a fucking idiot.

Well how about that? Satoru spies you from across the quad, your movements sluggish and uncoordinated. His veins buzz with electricity, and he knows: he is still very much alive despite the coldness to his skin, the lack of a heartbeat in his chest. What else could you call the rush, the thrill he’s got right now, except living? His urge to feed has grown exponentially.

He slips through the shadows.

You nearly jump when a tall, dark figure appears before you, looming over you.

Snowy hair shines in the lamplight, blue eyes flashing like glaciers, staring right at you. You swear they flash red for a second.

“You again?” You slur your words. You aren’t scared. He’s Suguru’s best friend, which means he by extension must be a good guy. Almost as if he hears your thoughts, Satoru grins. His teeth are brilliant, his canines shining ivory and glistening like expensive accessory jewels.

If Satoru was being honest, this was perfect. The golden chance to get Suguru to forget about you and move on, so his best friend could finally look and be alive again, the two of them happily slaying the vampires that hurt humans— this chance just seems to have fallen into Satoru’s hands like a magic star that grants his wish.

“Hey,” he nearly purrs, slinking around you as you take a step forward— stumbling a bit— cold fingers grip you firmly, holding you upright.

“You’re fucking making me freeze even more!” You retort, snapping at him as you yank your warm arm away from his cool grasp. You were more than tipsy, but you recalled his rudeness from earlier.

“Just trying to help. You sure aren’t shy, huh?” Satoru remarks.

“What the fuck is that supposed to mean?” You spit out, the question giving you both Deja vu.

“It means what it means,” Satoru grins. Deja-fucking-vu. You were getting fed up now, huffing and mumbling under your alcohol-tinged breath an insult that Satoru’s super hearing picks up on. He stifles a laugh.

“Wait,” Satoru calls out. You don’t turn around or slow your pace. He strides up to you in two quick, lengthy steps. He bends, entering your vision, his teeth sharp and protruding from his close lipped smile. Were they always that long?

“I’m great at reading people. And as much as you want to deny it, your heart is beating faster around me.” He suppresses his urge to poke your ribcage, directly over the beating muscle.

“Shut up,” you growl.

“You could make me, you know.”

He keeps up with your sluggish pace as you try to make your way back to the dorms, struggling to reply.

“There you go again with that cliche flirting,” you snort.

“And here I am again, asking if you’re offering lessons. Though the better question would be if you’re even qualified to give them,” Satoru grins.

“What do you want from me? Don’t you think it’s weird to be flirting with your best friend’s ex?”

You think this will shut him up. That, or he’ll have a lame excuse. And for the first time in this second conversation you’re having with him, his answer changes.

“If I’m being honest,” he speaks in a rich, velvety, low voice, and you almost feel entranced, your feed stopping, your gaze resting on Satoru. “I’m doing this for him. And about what I want?”

You sway in the chilly night breeze, barely registering anything but the sound of his voice.

“I want to know if you’d let me bite you.”

Edited version found here! (More dialogue and scenes :)

comment to be on the tag list!

Do not plagiarize my writing in any way. Do not feed my writing to ai.

[merrybloomwrites]

It's Just a Game, But Really

Summary: When your brother starts dating Taylor Swift, you figure your wild dreams of dating Harry Styles are now definitely crushed. But some meddling from Jason, Travis, and Taylor may make some dreams come true after all.

Word Count: 3K

AN: This idea randomly popped into my head months ago and I couldn't get it out until I fully wrote it. I feel like this falls into the category of "Crack treated seriously" lol

Also, I understand this is niche, but as an Eagles fan (pls don't come for me) I've watched the entire Travis/Taylor relationship unfold and just thought this would be silly. Writing Jason and Travis was pretty fun too since I've been listening to their podcast for years and it was a cool challenge to write in their voices

Finally, I took creative liberty here and while I normally try to keep details as close to reality as possible, I've changed some things. So the Packers vs Eagles game that happened in Brazil now takes place in philly, and the Chiefs game on Christmas is now against Baltimore so it would be plausible to have the dinner scene in PA. None of this actually matters, this is fiction lol

Title from "So High School" by Taylor Swift

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

Growing up with two athletic brothers had been quite an experience. Hundreds of hours were spent at sporting events, often bundled up to watch them play ice hockey or attend the late season football games. In your family, it was important that everyone supported each other.

It went the other way as well. Your brothers attended every spring concert, theater performance, and dance recital you were in. They were your biggest fans, always cheering you on and bringing flowers to give you.

They also took time to learn about your interests. Instead of getting annoyed when Taylor Swift’s music would play through the house, they started listening.

Especially Travis.

He liked the music, and thought she seemed pretty cool. He didn’t admit it, but you guessed that maybe he had a bit of a celebrity crush on her.

Life continued to change as your brothers left for college, then moved to different cities when they got signed to two different NFL teams. You missed them, but it was great seeing them succeed.

Jason and Travis still made time for family, even when Jason got married and started a family of his own. You and Kylie became friends right away, and you immediately loved having another girl in the family. You couldn’t wait for it to be Travis’s turn to find someone. But preferably not through his dating show.

When Taylor Swift announced her Eras Tour, you desperately wanted to go. So you were highly disappointed when you weren’t able to get tickets.

And then Travis surprised you with tickets to her show in Kansas City. By this point you had moved in with Jason and Kylie near Philly, but Travis assured you that he’d take care of all the travel logistics to get you to the concert.

You flew in the night before, getting to spend the day with your brother before heading to the stadium. It was weird to be there for a concert, having attended numerous games there before. It was cool to see how it was transformed into something almost unrecognizable.

Being there with Travis meant getting to be seated with a great view in a cordoned off section. It also meant Chiefs fans coming close to the barrier to talk to him before the show. Watching your brother trade friendship bracelets with these people was a strange moment, one you never would have imagined happening.

Through all that, there was one bracelet he had that you noticed he wouldn’t trade. Taking a closer glance you see what’s written on it and give him a confused look.

“Travis, what in the world is this?” you ask.

“Friendship bracelet,” he answers simply, dodging your true question.

“Obviously. But why is your number on here? Who is this for?”

He laughs nervously but before you can press it further another fan comes up to say hi. You can’t help but wonder what his plan is for that bracelet, even though you have a pretty good idea who its intended recipient is.

The concert begins and you have a wonderful time, dancing and singing along, Travis just as excited beside you. As it ends, Travis speaks with one of the staff members, looking slightly disappointed but not too bothered. Once again you’re left wondering what that was all about.

It’s a couple weeks later and you’re listening to the latest episode of Travis and Jason’s podcast when they bring up Travis attending the concert. Sure enough, he confirms he was trying to get that bracelet with his number to Taylor, and you have to commend him on his creativity and optimism.

What you don’t expect is for Taylor to find out about that and get in touch with Travis. Now a year later, your brother is in a happy, committed relationship with Taylor Swift. She’s come to family dinners, you’ve been next to her during Chiefs games, and she’s made it so you could come to a number of concerts on her tour. You cannot believe that this has become your life. And you have to give your brother credit for his powers of manifestation.

One afternoon you’re hanging in the living room while Jason records the podcast in the basement. He calls out for you and you go down to see what’s going on.

He hands you a set of headphones so you can hear Travis as well, and fills you in on the topic.

“So,” Jason begins. “Fans are starting to give you credit for Travis and Taylor getting together. Do you think that’s fair to say?”

You laugh for a moment that this is why you’re called to speak on what should be a sports podcast, before answering, “I think that’s fair. I mean, he did the work but I would say my childhood Swiftie obsession planted the seed.”

Travis replies, “You don’t think I would have found out about her on my own?”

“Oh you totally would have. But I got the ball rolling ages ago. Timing is everything, what if you’d been too late?”

“Alright, I’ll give you that. We can say you had a hand in this.”

“So that means you owe me,” you say.

Jason chimes in, “Yea Trav, your turn to manifest for Y/N.”

“You want me to manifest a boyfriend for our little sister?” Travis questions.

“Oh, right, wait, don’t actually do that. I forgot, Y/N’s not allowed to date until she’s forty,” Jason says, leading you to roll your eyes at his overprotectiveness.

“Ok, but if I were to try, who would it be? Y/N, who’s your celebrity crush?” Travis asks.

There’s no way you’re answering that on camera, especially with who the answer actually is. You clench your teeth and lift your eyebrows before cheekily saying, “Oh, no, I cannot answer that on the pod. That’s uhm. That’d be messy.” You then shrug and laugh, trying to play all of this off as a bit.

While Travis tries to dig and get you to answer, it clicks for Jason and he says, “Wait, I think I know who it is. Is it, uhm-”

“Don’t you dare say anything!” you exclaim to shut him up.

“Alright, alright. I won’t spill your secrets.”

“Well at least tell it to me later,” Travis says, to which you reply, “Absolutely not. I’m afraid you may actually try to meddle.”

“Who, me? No way,” he replies only to be met with an unimpressed look from you.

The boys drop the subject and you head back upstairs as they finally talk about football again.

You assume that they’ve moved on, and you’re happy when they don’t bring up your celebrity crush again.

You’re even happier when Jason tells you he’s taking you to the season opener Eagles vs Packers game in Philly. You’re super excited to be able to experience an Eagles game alongside your brother. You’re also glad you can be there for him in case it’s hard for him to watch them play without him for the first time since his retirement.

What you’re unaware of is the plan that Jason and Travis had made behind your back.

“So now you’re on board with trying to set up our little sister?” Jason had questioned during a phone call a couple weeks prior.

“Yes. And I have a way of making it happen,” Travis had answered.

“And you want me to help Y/N meet and potentially date a popstar who happens to be your girlfriend's ex-boyfriend?”

“Yes.”

“And he’s a Packers fan?”

“Yea, that is the unfortunate part. And you’re not really helping them date. That’s all on them. But you could at least help her meet him at the game.”

“This is ridiculous,” Jason says. “But I’ll do it.”

And that’s how you find yourself walking through the tunnels of the Linc with Jason before the start of the game and bumping into Harry Styles.

“Hello, I’m Harry,” he says cheerfully, holding a hand out for you to shake.

Mustering up all of your chill, you smile in return while reaching out to clasp his hand and say, “I’m Y/N. It’s so nice to meet you, I’m a big fan.”

“Well, thank you for your support,” he says.

“You kids want a picture?” There are few times you want to kill your brother, but him butting in while you’re talking to Harry Styles is definitely one of them.

“That’s alright,” you say, trying not to impose on Harry too much. So you’re surprised when Harry says, “Of course, let’s get a photo!”

You stand next to him, and his arm wraps around your shoulder and you hope your expression doesn’t show how crazy fast your heart is beating while Jason takes the picture.

“It was so nice meeting you both, I’ll see you around!” Harry says as he walks away.

Before Jason can begin to tease you, you say, “Don’t even say a word.”

He listens to you and instead just laughs as you keep walking.

After some quick hellos to the stadium staff, you’re led up to a box.

“I thought we just had seats today?” You question.

“We did. But when I was talking to Mark he said we got upgraded.”

When you step into the box you’re once again surprised by the presence of Harry Styles.

“Okay, we are definitely in the wrong place,” you murmur to your brother.

“Oh good, you guys found us!” Harry says. You look to see who he’s talking to and get shocked to see it’s you and Jason. “There were some open spots so I asked if you two could join us,” he explains.

“Wow, thank you!” You manage to squeak out.

Suddenly you’re realizing what is about to happen. A four minute encounter in the hallway? Easy. An entire three hour football game? There’s no way you make it through without embarrassing yourself.

And yet, halftime comes and you’ve so far managed not to make a fool of yourself. In fact, you’re even impressed by your witty banter as the Eagles and Packers go back and forth taking the lead.

“So, I read about these botanical gardens nearby,” Harry says.

“Longwood?” You ask.

“Yea, have you ever been?”

“A couple times. I went with Jason, Kylie, and the kids earlier this summer. They’re really nice. If you’re thinking about going, I highly recommend.”

“I actually got a couple tickets for the fountain show tomorrow night. I was wondering if you’d like to go with me.”

Quickly processing that Harry is asking you to hang out with him, possibly go on a date with him, you reply, “I’d love to!”

“Fantastic! I can pick you up in the afternoon?”

“Sounds good to me, thank you.”

You exchange phone numbers and give Harry your address, still in disbelief that all of this is actually happening.

The game resumes, and as the Eagles make their comeback you can’t help but cheer and get wrapped up in the game. And even as Harry’s team starts losing, he still stays happy and continues to joke around with you.

When the game ends and the Eagles fans celebrate, you say to Harry, “I hope this doesn’t affect us hanging out tomorrow.”

“Not a chance, in fact I think that will cheer me up,” he says with a smile.

“Hey Y/N, I’ve gotta go talk to a couple people. You hanging here or coming with me?” Of course, there’s your brother interrupting again. And while you’d rather stay with Harry, you don't really want to be separated from Jason in the post-game chaos. So you say goodbye to Harry with the promise to see him the next day.

On your way back home you put up with the teasing from your brother.

You beg him to be on his best behavior when Harry picks you up the next day.

You know he won’t.

So it’s no surprise that he gives Harry “the talk”, telling him that if he hurts you at all then he’ll have to face two NFL players.

You’re hanging in the living room with Kylie and the kids while this happens, and when the two boys come back Kylie asks,”He wasn’t too scary, was he?”

“No,” Harry replies. “Just scary enough I’d say. Shall we get going?” He addresses this last question to you and you agree, more than happy to get out of the house before Jason takes his big brother role too seriously.

When Harry drives away he lets out a deep breath and you say, “You good?”

“Yea, just- Your brother is scary.”

You start to laugh at the fact that Jason managed to actually shake up Harry Styles. But you decide to help him out by saying, “He seems scary, but it’s mostly all talk. Unless you do something to hurt me. Then you should be scared.”

“Oh I feel so much better,” he says, laughing along now.

The two of you have a wonderful time together at the gardens, especially since Harry manages to somehow fly under the radar. The fountain show is fascinating, and you stand together, Harry’s arm around your waist sending butterflies through your belly.

It’s late when you get home, and he walks you to the door like a gentleman.

When he asks if he can kiss you, of course you say yes. He leans in for a soft kiss before saying goodnight, not leaving until you’ve made it safely inside.

Jason is waiting up for you, and as you tell him about your night you watch his gruff exterior fade away. He looks truly pleased by all you have to report and you’re glad that he seems to approve of Harry.

For the next couple of months, it all goes well. Your relationship with Harry flourishes. You get to see him more than expected since he starts working out of a studio in NYC, only two hours away from where you are.

There is one mild bump in the road, occurring on a Friday evening when Jason and Kylie are supposed to be out at a party with the girls.

You’d been planning on a quiet night home alone. But then Harry had surprised you by showing up at your front door, a bouquet of flowers in hand.

One thing led to another, and before you know it you’re both on the couch. You’re straddling his lap, his hands sliding under your shirt as the two of you make out.

As much as Harry had surprised you, Jason surprises you even more by suddenly coming home and walking right into the living room.

Harry notices him first, and in an effort to save this interaction he pushes you off of him, luckily managing to shift you to the open spot next to him on the couch.

There’s a moment of oppressively awkward silence as Jason stares at the two of you, speechless. Without saying a word he walks to the mud room and grabs the diaper bag that had clearly been left behind earlier.

As he passes through the room to leave he says, “You are adults. Just- don’t be stupid. There are enough kids in this house already.”

Without waiting for a reply he leaves the house. After another moment you and Harry break into nervous laughter.

The mood is pretty much ruined but you still have a nice night watching a movie together. Harry stays with you but has to leave at lunchtime the next day.

That afternoon Jason knocks on your bedroom door, asking if he can talk for a minute.

“Sure, what’s up?” You say, not expecting the conversation that follows.

“I just wanted to ask how things are going between you and Harry,” he says.

“Oh! Good! Yea, things are going well. I really like him,” you answer.

“And you’re being safe?”

“Oh my god, Jason! We are not having this conversation,” you say as your cheeks warm at the implication.

“Well you’re living in my house, I just, you know. I feel responsible for your well being.”

“I’m safe. Very safe. You don’t have to worry.” You hope your words will convince him to drop the topic.

“And you trust him? Cause I mean, he’s a big time Popstar. Bet he’s broken a fair number of hearts before.”

You find yourself needing to defend Harry and ask, “Have you had this conversation with Travis about Taylor?”

“Fair point,” he concedes. “I just don’t want you getting hurt. You’re sure about him?”

“I am.”

“Okay then. That’s what matters. I’m only looking out for you.”

“I know. But Harry and I are happy. I promise.”

With that smoothed over, the next few weeks continue drama free.

And then comes Christmas.

Due to scheduling, Harry had yet to meet Travis. You’ve talked to your brother about him, and you know Travis has talked about all of this with Taylor. So while you’ve been told that it’s no big deal that your boyfriend and your brother’s girlfriend are exes, you’re still a bit nervous for Christmas dinner.

It’s a late meal, since you have to wait for Travis to get there after the Chiefs vs Ravens game, and you spend the afternoon entertaining your nieces and helping prepare the food.

Finally Travis and Taylor arrive, and for a moment you can’t help but feel self conscious. The room is full of NFL players and international pop stars. You excuse yourself to the kitchen for a moment to collect yourself. When you walk back to the living room, Harry greets you with the biggest smile, and those feelings of self doubt melt away. Because those big accomplishments and accolades aren’t what matter to him. What he cares about is how kind you are, how fun and loving you are. He wraps an arm around your shoulders, pressing a kiss to your head and you blush knowing your whole family is watching.

But looking up at them you see nothing but support. Your mom is practically glowing seeing all her children with their significant others, and quickly organizes a family picture.

It takes some time to get all three of the little girls to cooperate, and by the time the photo is taken, dinner is ready.

There is something surreal at seeing Harry and Taylor pass the potatoes or bread basket, never having imagined this is how your life would turn out.

But that night, as you all agree to break the internet by posting the family picture, you know you wouldn’t want it any other way.

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

AN: I wrote the first half of this as the Eagles lost to the Commanders, thus breaking a 10 game win streak soooo that was a bummer.

I wrote the ending after watching the Eagles beat the Cowboys, so at least that turned back around!

I think this may be the silliest thing I’ve ever written.

[profoundbondfanfic]

hello! I love this blog so much - as a new spn fan (and tumblr user) it’s a great source for good fics to read, so thank you so much for this blog!

If you do take (possibly) more specific requests for recommendations, I was wondering if you knew of any fanfics where it’s cas-centric and involves him realizing/coming to terms with his feelings for dean? I’ve read a lot of (esp post-canon) fics where it follows dean’s journey with this, but not as much with cas, especially within the context of canon. Thank you, and best wishes for this blog!!

Hey! First of all, thanks so much for the kind words, we're glad you're enjoying our blog.

Here are a few fics that fit this. We included both AUs and Canon from Cas' POV with him realizing/coming to terms with his feelings for Dean.

Canon:

Better Off by caelum_writes (Teen and Up, 7k words)

As an angel Castiel never had to think about what to wear. As a man who struggles with deep self-loathing, Dean never had to think about the idea of anyone loving him.

between sex and death and trying to keep the kitchen clean by ftmsteverogers (Explicit, 13k words)

"I don't get you," Dean spits. "I don't get what you want. Just — just tell me. I'm a big boy, I can take it." "I did tell you!" Castiel exclaims. "I told you, and then I died!"

Dean Winchester and the Belly Button Piercing by Trenchcoat_Paradigm (Explicit, 34k words)

Dean Winchester was 23 when he got his belly button pierced. It was during a time in his life when everything felt like it was in turmoil (long before he even really knew what his life being in turmoil truly meant). He never intended to go out and get any piercings—his father would have never allowed it. For 20-something years it had been his best-kept secret… that was until one fateful night when a hunt went wrong and his best friend had to swoop in and help patch him up, catching an eyeful of his elusive secret. Castiel’s infatuation with his best friend took a dangerous turn that night (not that he wasn’t already treading treacherous waters with his feelings towards the man). He had already known that Dean had a piercing, but he had no idea it was still functional, and equally had no idea that a piece of jewellery, Dean’s own slice of quiet rebellion, would have such a profound effect on him. Now Castiel can’t help but want him and his fading grace is doing very little in hiding his… indiscretions. The idea of it slowly drove him insane. And what makes it worse… Castiel was certain Dean was doing it on purpose.

restless by vipjuly (Explicit, 4k words)

Kissing Dean feels not only right, it feels important, like them kissing is another one of the events Chuck intended to come to fruition when he first created the earth and all its people.

sunflower by unicornpoe (Teen and Up, 4k words)

Castiel comes home on a Sunday.

The Black Trench Coat by Yool_chan (Explicit, 22k words)

When Dean found out Castiel was working with Crowley to open Purgatory, he had no choice but to leave the angel in the ring of fire with nothing less than a broken heart. But instead of plotting against his friend, Dean takes a literal sense of fire vs fire. He decides to kill Castiel with love. Or that story where Dean convinces Castiel to look into their future to see if Castiel's plan against Raphael succeeds, only to find the world in chaos and an angel donning a black trenchcoat emerges to take Dean away.

The Law of Equivalent Exchange by awed_frog (Mature, 60k words)

“And what’s the point of it?” “Of love? There isn’t one. Loving is its own purpose.”

until the end and after by Philyra912 (Explicit, 27k words)

A year ago, the world didn't end. Now it's summer and the cicadas are buzzing, and something is changing. Something is going to give.

AU:

Dean Winchester, Straight Shooter by triedunture (Explicit, 15k words)

Dean Winchester, star of StraightShooter.com, is a gay-for-pay porn star with a huge following. Cas Novak signs on to do a scene with him, even though he dislikes "straight" porn stars on principle. But Dean is more complicated than he first appears, and after inadvertently learning his secrets, Cas finds himself falling for him.

For Evermore by casblackfeathers (Explicit, 110k words)

There's no place like home. This was a line Castiel used to know by heart when he was a kid, watching The Wizard of Oz and believing fairytales were real. At thirty-one years old, he isn't a kid anymore, and it has been twelve years since he has known what home feels like. Twelve years. That's when his world had come crashing down and he had left his hometown, Holly Springs, with the broken pieces of what he once was to build a new life in San Francisco. But as circumstances force him to come back to the only place he swore he would never return to, Castiel is finally forced to face everything he once knew and loved. Especially when said everything is made of spring-green eyes and a stardust of freckles, wrapped in all the memories Castiel was not able to erase from his heart. After twelve years, Dean is as mesmerizing as Castiel remembers, but the scars of what was broken still run as deeply as the marrow of his bones, and Castiel will do everything he can to protect himself. After all, his favorite movie also taught him that 'until hearts can be made unbreakable,' he can’t listen to his own.

Have Love, Will Travel by squeemonster (Explicit, 94k words)

Castiel Novak is a reclusive writer with a childhood so tragic it's left him terrified to leave his home—until his overbearing brother, Gabriel, drags him out for a night on the town full of booze and strip clubs, and he encounters Dean Winchester, a mesmerizing and mysterious stripper with secrets of his own. Both men find themselves inexplicably drawn to each other, and soon Dean's private dances for Castiel become much more, as both men confess their troubles and find solace in each other's company. But neither can seem to find the courage to take their relationship further than the intimacy of the club's VIP Room—and just when Dean's own brother gives him the excuse he needs to finally admit his feelings, Dean discovers something that brings it all crumbling down. Will they find a way past their demons and their trust issues, and back to each other?

Satin and Sawdust by Ltleflrt (Explicit, 159k words)

When Castiel moves out of Jimmy's house and into his own place for the first time, he saves money on buying a home by investing in a Fixer-Upper. He knows nothing about how to fix the many problems the house has, but he figures he's smart enough to figure it out. Unfortunately it's not too long before he learns that he's way in over his head. Thankfully his new neighbor Dean is a handyman, and agrees to help him out. He knows Dean has a bit of a crush on him, but he's not taking advantage of it, really. Dean's a great guy, and quickly becomes a good friend. But a flash of satin under Dean's toolbelt changes everything.

Smoke In the Mirror by letters_of_stars (Mature, 52k words)

It begins with the flier hung in the library: art model needed for thesis project, will pay. Castiel figures it's an easy way to make some extra money, but modeling for Dean Winchester ends up complicating his life far beyond anything he could have imagined.

The Prodigal Bond by vipjuly (Explicit, 68k words)

In exchange for conjugal visits, Dean Winchester gives FBI Supervisory Special Agent Castiel Novak all the dirt he needs to bring down national crime rings. It's a tit-for-tat situation; primal, animalistic, and probably ten kinds of illegal. When a case is revealed to be closer to Castiel than what he considers safe, he and Dean must work together to make sure that Crowley goes down for good. Will Castiel be able to keep Dean at arm's length, or will the charming convict finally get what he's been asking for all along? What lengths will Castiel go to... at Dean's behest?