#and going to the flashbacks - wanting to have this discussion

[charles-leclerc-official]

Lando's reactions in any of his interviews is really what bothers me. When he has one race where he doesn't have a great result? He acts like it's the end of the world, like he just got fired or something. We're still at the start of the season. He has the fastest car. No one is going to do what Max did in 2023 ever again. It's normal that he will sometimes have a bad weekend. Where is his self confidence?

Charles was in interviews talking about how he's targeting overtaking both George and Oscar at the start! Even when he doesn't have a good quali, Charles always has the self confidence to say he's going to go for a good result in the race.

And Lando, who will surely make his way up the field tomorrow, literally looks like he's about to cry in his interviews.

If he really feels this way and he's not just acting out, Lando seriously needs to see a sports psychologist to help him. At this point it's clear to see he can't handle any pressure. He will likely lose the WDC this year simply because his rivals will have the mental strength and determination to beat him, while he crumbles under pressure.

As much as I am not Lando's biggest fan I will say that we see a lot of other drivers have similarly bad moods when they know they are not where they should be. So I don't think he's special for that. Do I care for his particular brand of complaining? No I don't, but whatever.

Charles is in a very different place this weekend, best spot he's been in all year so I don't think this is the most charitable comparison. Now it's also different from when Charles has a bad weekend but they are different people.

I wouldn't be so sure about that. Lando is far from an overtaking expert and the mclaren still doesn't love dirty air. at the bare minimum the Mercs will hold him up. I think most likely Max gets the jump on him in the first few laps(idk about Max keeping the place but I think he will get ahead at one point)

I don't really care to dive too much into his mentality/mental health or anything. There is only so much you can tell from interviews and everyone expresses themselves differently. I care more about the words he says(which have been pretty consistent so far this season I will add) But those seem to be broad conclusions to draw from some interviews. I don't necessarily think you're wrong but saying someone will lose WDC based on a few interview clips seems a bit of a reach.

That and I just do not know enough about Lando and how he is to comment much further.

[adolins-heart]

on one hand I wanna write my fic ideas wherein my marvel oc gets sent to the alternate universe of Gotham and hijinks ensue whilst she tries to survive and get back and the batfam and such slowly learn more info abt her world and how it's being threatened atm and she needs to go back and help and whatnot.

But on the other hand, the readers wouldn't know the marvel related backstory of this OC and would have. No context for her going in

But ALSO then the readers would know abt as much abt this mysterious figure as the batcrew do, and get to learn via flash backs and her slowly revealing info to them as safety allows

Then there's also just a general. Idk if there's any sort of oc etiquette when it comes to writing oc centered fics? My brain goes so hogwild when I read anything that I usually avoid oc fics other people write just bc I usually read and enjoy fics at face value but I also go "now what would happen if this OC was here?" And that gets real complicated when other people's ocs are involved

[oh-no-its-bird]

Sakumo being a super popular borderline sex symbol in his era will never stop being my favorite hc, I need to see more of it

All the people his age and younger had a crush on him. It was just a Thing(tm) where 9 times out of 10, a Konoha shinobi's first crush was probably Sakumo. Even other villages young shinobi hung up his bingo book picture above their bunk and dreamed of both killing him, being killed by him (in a hot way), having a battlefield fling with him, and more. There was blackmarket fanfiction. He was incredibly popular among civilians all over fire country. Some popular romance novels had love interests very blatantly based off him.

Even before they were on a team together, Obito and Rin both had a silly kid crush on Kakashi's dad (Obito more than Rin) and he was aware of it. This did not help make him like them any more. (By the time hearing smthn positive ab his dad would have made Kakashi softer, they'd both gotten better at hiding the crush, so to Kakashi it looked like they'd gotten over Sakumo.) Even Minato had a bit of a thing for him, not really but like— strong, popular, feard and very friendly ninja who is now paying him some attention (bc hes his kids teacher) he's not immune. Kushina understands, she is also not immune. (Kakashi is going to throw a fucking fit)

Even after his failed mission, when his reputation crashes and burns within the village, he still can't completely shake his admirers— they possibly just get more disrespectful ab the attraction when it mixes with the hate. (Which tbh could make for an interesting discussion all on its own)

Kakashi is haunted by his father's insane popularity for decades after his death. He does his very best to ignore the lingering evidence of people being insane ab his father.

One day he realizes one of his favorite romance novels has a romance interest based off Sakumo and has a break down ab it and can never read the series again.

When raiding an old abandoned enemy camp w Team Ro, he finds an old, autographed photo of his dad covered in lipstick marks in the communal bathroom. He chooses to ignore it but it's quickly spotted by his teammates, who do not know who Sakumk is, and v quickly begin to remark on the poster, who this mysterious Konoha nin is, and ahaha damn he is kinda good looking, huh? (Kakashi wants to DIE)

Shisui ends up taking the poster back to Konoha with them and hangs it up in the ANBU communal quarters where it is VERY quickly recognized. And also some of the people in that room recognize it so quick bc they also used to own a similar poster. (Kakashi wants to DIE someone PLEASE kill him now)

Its only when he's given team 7 that he finally thinks he's escaped the legacy of his father as Konoha's Most Sexiest Shinobi. Only for Naruto, when being trained by Jiriyah, to find his drafts for Icha Icha very clearly inspired by his dad. Which he can never publish for multiple reasons (lingering respect for Sakumo. Also for Kakashi, who is his biggest fan and would probably never look at him again.)

Naruto somehow accidentally brings this up with Kakashi who like. Has war flashbacks and immediatley stands up and walks away as Jiryah scrambles to try to explain himself and Tsunade looks on in scorn (she will approach him later to carefully ask for the drafts while trying to seem like she's not really asking for them bc she's too proud to admit it)

Naruto and Sakura discover Kakashi-sensei's dad was a sex symbol. I don't even know how they'd react but like. Oh my god. Oh my god you guys.

Funniest option would be they accidentally revive his popularity a little bit by being so loud ab it they like, remind people ab him. + introduce another generation to the idea of him

Kakashi is crouched on the floor with his face in his hands. When will he be freed from this hell.

Sasuke does not escape tho, he goes to sound and finds a picture of Sensei's dad in Orochimaru's office (???????)

This is such a shitty sketch but the vision:

Itachi, who learned who Sakumo was from that poster thing, goes on to find a photo of him in ""Madara's"" belongings and gets super weirded out but ultimately doesn't. Super care. But also. Like. What. What.

After Itachi finds the photo, which Obito genuinley forgot he fucking had and keeps in part just bc its like one of the only belongings that remained from his Konoha days, he shoves it somewhere in Kamui to forget about.

But then in the Obito vs Kakashi Kamui fight, it fucking flutters down in the middle of the fight and Obito fucking dies of humiliation as Kakashi realizes he will truly Never Escape and that this reality is his own personal hell

Uhh endgame Kakashi becomes Hokage and accidentally retreads his father's path in becoming the new Konoha Sexy Man. Which simultaneously crushes him (he will never escape) and fills him with delight (he will now be able to impart the pain of having your father figure be lusted after by all ur friends and acquaintances onto his students)

[starcandybby]

rings and realizations

haechan x reader

summary: while shopping with Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun on a rare day off, Haechan lingers to long at the jewelry store which prompts questions and encouragement.

minors pls dni

warnings: shitty writing, reader is only in a flashback. reader has she/her pronouns, FLUFF, talks of marriage and engagements, 00z tease haechan but he takes it like a champ, haechan is referred to as donghyuck in this because I can, italics are flashbacks!

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It's a rare day off for Donghyuck. In between NCT Dream and 127 schedules, he'd be lucky to sleep in before practice. But an entire day off? Maybe once in a blue moon- and probably not even that often.

Donghyuck would have liked to spend the day with you- preferably in bed, maybe playing video games with you nestled between his legs. However, much to his dismay, when you heard Jeno, Jaemin, and Renjun invited Donghyuck to go shopping, you encouraged him to join them.

"Baby," Hyuck huffed, "I see them all the time. I don't need to go shopping with them."

"But, working with them is different! When was the last time you spent some quality time with them- without the pressure of cameras and practice and idol life?" You returned, soft but firm.

Donghyuck rolled his eyes, knowing you were 100% right. It is different spending time with his friends without the context of their jobs; it was more natural. He didn't feel like he had to embody the persona of Haechan from NCT. It was freeing. But, Donghyuck was also stubborn. What was so wrong about wanting to spend time with his girlfriend on a rare day off?

"Plus!" You continued, only encouraged by his eye-roll, "You've been so focused on 127 activities, you probably haven't seen them in a few weeks." A pause, "And, passing them in the company building doesn't count Hyuck." A soft smile graced your lips when you finished, letting him know that you were teasing him. If he really didn't want to go, you would drop the subject and welcome him with open arms on his day off.

"Yeah, yeah fine I'll go." You smile grew at your boyfriend’s response. "But! I get to sleep in, I want to have lunch and dinner together, and I want extra cuddles after dinner."

Your smile was extra wide now, causing the end of Donghyuck's lips to slightly turn up, unmasking his attempt at being serious.

"It's a deal!" And you sealed it with a kiss on his cheek.

So, here he was. At a luxury department store that was seemingly deserted when the four idols arrived. He suspects Jaemin and Renjun had a hand in that. He's half listening to the three discuss what stores they want to stop in; the other half of him is wondering which stores he'd like to stop in himself. Donghyuck isn't committed to a particularly style or brand; if he likes a piece, he'll buy it.

God, he misses you. And, at this moment, he really misses shopping with you, and how your eyes would light up when you really liked a clothing item on him or how you'd get all shy when he returned the compliments.

"Let's stop by Ferragamo first?" Renjun's question snaps Donghyuck out of his daydream. The younger one nodded and followed the three others.

-

Donghyuck hated to admit that you were right. (You always are). But spending time with his brothers felt good. There was no pressure; they could be themselves.

So far, Donghyuck had picked up a few things for himself- new glasses frames, a belt, and a new shirt. For you, he found a luxury purse and matching bracelets for you both. Anniversary gifts secured.

Now, the four men found themselves in Tiffany & Co. Jaemin had mentioned wanting to find some accessories for an upcoming event. While Renjun and Jaemin talk with the sales associate, Donghyuck decides to wander around the store.

He wasn't looking for anything in particular; he had enough jewelry at home and he's not sure Tiffany & Co is his style anyway. So, he just walks around the display cases to pass the time.

Donghyuck has seen so many diamond necklaces, bracelets, and earrings that they're all starting to blur together.

Until, he stumbles upon three display cases of rings.

He almost just walks by but something sturs in his chest seeing the diamond rings. A feeling that tells him to stop, even for just a second.

Donghyuck's eyes move over the rings, taking note of all the different cuts, sizes, and styles.

And he finally caves.

He lets himself imagine which ring would look best sitting on the finger of your left hand.

Which one would you like? What does your dream engagement ring look like?

You two had never discussed marriage or your weddings in depth. But, phrases like: "in our first home", "our kids" , and "when we're married" were not uncommon in such casual conversations about your futures.

Donghyuck was sure hopeful that you would say yes to his proposal, someday.

His eyes continued to move across the display cases, his brain analyzing what you might like or dislike about each ring. He doesn't even notice a faint shadow that appears next to him.

"Getting married soon are we?" Jeno asks smugly. Donghyuck need not to even look at the man to know the teasing smile he's sporting. He's too in his head right now to play along, so he ignores Jeno's question.

"Do you see any that you think she'll like?" He asks; voice coming through serious, almost as an attempt to mask any kind of vulnerability that might lie in it.

Thankfully, Jeno picks up Donghyuck's vocal queue and drops any teasing remarks he may have had prepared. He starts to assess the rings as closely as Donghyuck.

Jeno points out some rings that Donghyuck agrees you'll like. The latter continues to eye the pieces of jewelry while the former now observes his best friend.

Donghyuck. Engaged.

When Jeno first met you, first saw how you and his brother interacted, he knew you were it for him. He just didn't know that his friend was so serious about it so soon.

Soon? Well, you and Donghyuck have been dating for 2 years now, Jeno muses.

"Didn't know you were thinking about asking." Jeno tries to casually begin. He wants Donghyuck to be honest, but he doesn't want to broach the topic too seriously for his best friend to close off.

"I wasn't but I am now." Donghyuck absentmindedly answers, eyes still trained on the rings. But, Jeno doesn't miss the way his eyebrows pinch together and how his fingers can't seem to stay still, always fidgeting in some way.

"How soon?" Jeno continues.

"Not yet." Donghyuck replies.

A moment passes, and another.

"But soon."

Jeno's lips curl up at that. And this is his queue to shift to a more teasing tone.

"Our Hyuckie is getting married!" He shakes Donghyuck's shoulders, finally pulling him away from staring down Tiffany's many rings.

Donghyuck rolls his eyes and shakes Jeno off him, "And you're not going to be the best man so don't even ask."

Jeno feigns shock, "If I beg to Y/N, she'll make you make me the best man."

"I can resist her no problem."

To this Jeno howls in laughter, catching the attention of the other two as they make their way over, shopping bags in hand.

"What's so funny?" Renjun asks, eyebrows raised at Jeno.

“Hyuck just said he can resist Y/N!” Jeno said; words paired with a teasing smile.

"Ah! You're funny." Jaemin lightly slaps Donghyuck's arms, in which he rolls his eyes and freigns annoyance.

But, it's Renjun who notices the merchandise before them, making the connection quite quickly.

"Are you proposing to Y/N?!" Renjun asks, holding a tone of surprise, yet excitement.

Donghyuck feels too shy to confirm Renjun's suspicions confidently. But, his bashful smile and avoidance of eye contact tells the older brother all he needs to know.

"Are you serious?" It's Jaemin's turn to become excited, eyes sparkling at the thought of Donghyuck getting married, to you no less.

The fiancé-to-be nods and rubs the back of his neck.

"It's seriously no big deal. Plus, it won't even happen for a while. I want to wait until everything calms down. So no need to get all excited..." Donghyuck says sternly. But his brothers know better.

As he was rambling, Renjun, Jaemin, and Jeno's smiles only grew. Donghyuck is nervous. They're sure they can count the number of times they've seen him this nervous on one hand.

"Okay, okay. We get it. We'll leave it alone." Renjun lets it go for Donghyuck's sake and starts to lead the group out of the store.

Jeno and Donghyuck trail behind the other two. The older one can't help but get one last comment in:

"She'll say yes, you know?"

To this, Donghyuck doesn't say anything. But, Jeno doesn't miss the blush that blooms on his cheeks.

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disclaimer: This is purely fiction- nothing in these works reflect real of these people.

a/n: ahhh thank you for reading! I'm in my hyuck feels as always. I wanted to write something small to get me back into writing a little bit. likes, reblogs, and comments are always always appreciated <3

[starcurtain]

Detangling Mydei's Backstories Backstory?

My last post, casting doubt on 3.2's revelation that Mydei's immortality is deliberate on his part, led to some interesting discussion in the comments that definitely reinforced my earlier thoughts that the inconsistencies in Mydei's backstory are too numerous to be accidental. Star Rail is not known for its flawless continuity (Robin and Sunday's backstory, I'm looking at you lol), but usually the inconsistencies are not so overt, and repeated so many times, that they become central to the entire plot of a character.

So I wanted to refine my earlier theory a bit: I'm cautiously optimistic that there are enough signs that the inconsistencies in Mydei's backstory are deliberate, and that the Mydei of the current cycle in Amphoreus is actively experiencing an entanglement between two different timelines, without (yet) consciously recognizing the incompatibility of his own "memories."

When we work from the standpoint that the events of Mydei's backstory can be separated into two distinct timelines, the inconsistencies vanish:

The "Sea of Souls" Timeline

This is the most prominent timeline, and the one that appears most accurate for "our" Mydei. In this timeline, Mydei was thrown into the Sea of Souls as a tiny infant and spent the first nine years of his life there. This is confirmed both in the flashback we're provided early in 3.1, as well as in Mydei's voicelines and character stories.

After nine years, he crawled out of the sea (possibly motivated by witnessing Tribbie's "star" in the sky). On the same day (or very near it), he met with a band of Kremnoan exiles.

Whether this was a larger group already, constituting a small "detachment" army of exiles, or just started with the five exiled friends and Mydei then grew into a small army by picking up other exiles over time, is still unclear. However, at this point, Mydei makes no mention of returning to Kremnos and instead goes straight from "leaving the sea" to "living ten years in exile:"

This is the key point of inconsistency between the two "halves" of Mydei's story--either he lived in Kremnos or he didn't. We can handwave here and say "Yes, he returned to Kremnos with his friends and they just hid their identities, leaving Kremnos years later in a self-imposed exile," but the story gives us absolutely no indication that this realistically could have happened. Mydei never once mentions hiding his identity, changing his appearance, or living a double life in the city, and never explains how he would have had access to the inner city of Kremnos ("as befitting a crown prince") and the royal library, yet still go totally unnoticed by his father or anyone loyal to Eurypon, including Krateros. (There's also no explanation at all for why he would have wanted to return to a city ruled by someone who tried to murder him and where he would have had to live life under a fake identity just to get by, but you know...)

Instead, the game does give us several pieces of information indicating that the five Kremnoan exiles did not return to Kremnos after meeting Mydei:

First, Mydei's character stories confirm that Mydei deliberately hid his name while traveling in exile across Amphoreus, indicating that he knew he would be recognized by Eurypon/Eurypon's loyalists if he didn't hide his identity. This awareness suggests it is extremely unlikely that Mydei could have returned to Kremnos without being identified:

This also suggests that, at this point in this timeline, no one in Castrum Kremnos knew for sure that Mydeimos had survived being thrown into the Sea of Souls and returned. This is further confirmed by a memory fragment where Krateros says there has been a "rumor" that the leader of the exiled Kremnoan army is one who "defied death." Krateros alone makes the assumption that this could be Mydei and decides to defect to aid him:

This memory suggests two things clearly: Mydei was not living in Kremnos at the time Krateros defected, and the exile of all of Mydei's friends must have taken place before they met Mydei, years in the past, as there is no way an entire small army could have been exiled from Kremnos, with Mydei in toe, and not at all attract Krateros's attention until after they were gone.

The idea that Mydei never returned to Kremnos is further enforced by Eurypon, who did not recognize Mydei when he confronted him, to the point that he didn't believe Mydei was even Kremnoan. This suggests that Eurypon not only didn't know Mydei's true identity--he'd never seen him before at all, making it extremely unlikely that Mydei was walking around Castrum Kremnos, talking to Chryseus Leo, and reading in the royal library all under some false identity for years. Eurypon certainly wouldn't have been capable of exiling someone he'd never seen before from Kremnos, in any case!

Therefore, we can assume the series of events in this timeline is pretty straightforward: Mydei entered the Sea of Souls as a baby, came out nine years later, went straight into a life of exile with his five friends, amassed power and support for ten years, and then returned to seek vengeance on his father.

The only remaining question in this timeline becomes "When did Mydei join up with Okhema?"

I think, in this timeline, it makes the most sense for Mydei to have only joined up with Okhema after killing his father. In 3.1, Mydei confirms to Phainon that all his friends died before he was able to kill his father, and that none of them ever made it to Okhema:

Therefore, the final order of events for the more prominent timeline is:

Dumped into the sea as an infant, nine years in the Sea of Souls

Ten years in exile with his friends amassing strength and support

Returns to Kremnos, kills his father, and the last of his friends dies that day

Then he defects to Okhema, leading any of the Kremnoans willing to follow him there.

By itself, this story makes perfect sense. If this was all the information we'd been given, there wouldn't have been any gaps.

Unfortunately, we also have a whole other set of information that massively conflicts with these events, which can only really be explained two ways: Either Hoyo messed up (again) and really dropped the consistency ball when it comes to writing Mydei's backstory... Or there's an entire separate timeline going on. Personally, I'm leaning toward the latter, because there are just too many seemingly deliberate fingers in the story pointing toward the inconsistencies for them to feel entirely unintentional to me.

Therefore, I propose that Mydei's memories are actually getting infiltrated by a second, entirely different timeline:

The "Gorgo Lives" Timeline

From 3.0 all the way to 3.2, we're given numerous pieces of information that point to a wholly different order to the events of Mydei's life, contrasting the story that Mydei tells Phainon in the Garden. At first, these events seem scattered and nonsensical, contradicting the "main" timeline in too many ways to be anything but errors... But when taken as a whole, we can build a second coherent timeline out of these events if we make one assumption: There is a timeline where Gorgo lived longer.

In the second timeline which is intruding on Mydei's memories, there appears to be one key point of divergence: Gorgo did not die dueling Eurypon. Either she never challenged him to the duel, or (more likely) she was never successfully poisoned, and therefore it's possible she won the duel, allowing her to rescue Mydei from the sea.

Working from that possibility, a second complete timeline emerges:

Mydei was thrown into the Sea of Souls as an infant but did not drift there for nine years. Instead, he was rescued and brought back to Kremnos, where he was allowed to grow up in the inner city, with access to both Chryseus Leo, who served as his teacher, and access to the royal library, which he is proud enough of to call "his" library. He is able to lead Phainon and the Trailblazer around Castrum Kremnos even in its ruined state because he grew up there, spending enough time there to know the city like the back of his hand:

This is where we can slot in the inconsistent memories Mydei has of Gorgo:

(By the way, although Mydei writes this scene off as a dream, you can actually hear Oronyx's whisper play in the black screen seconds before this "dream" occurs...)

But okay, let's say this is just a wishful dream. Maybe this scene never happened. If all we got of Gorgo supposedly raising Mydei was this moment in 3.1, I might agree that it was just a dream (other than there being no reason to play Oronyx's sound effect there, but you know). However, in 3.2 they then hit us with this:

That's multiple moments now pointing to a timeline where Gorgo raised Mydei. Once is handwave-able--twice? That's deliberate.

In this secondary timeline, Mydei appears to have grown up as Kremnos's beloved crown prince, being warmly embraced by his people (at least until Kremnos fell into calamity). Apparently his days consisted of eating pomegranates, training for combat, playing with Kremnos's kids, and hanging out with his five friends. We see snippets of this idyllic life (along with his five friends appearing to be roughly the same age as him--something that likely wouldn't be true in the "main" timeline, by the way) on Mydei's long march back into Castrum Kremnos:

I know some people took this to be Mydei hallucinating or just wishfully imagining a life where he was able to be happy with his friends, possibly even some metaphorical "encountering the souls of the departed in a paradise," but I don't think this is true. Every single time Mydei phases in and out of this "hallucination," the visual effect and the sound effect of Oronyx are distinctly played--the exact same sound and visuals that play when Trailblazer activates Oronyx's prayer to jump between timelines.

Mydei himself doesn't seem to quite understand what is happening to him in this moment, as you can hear him stumble and pant as he repeatedly goes through flashes of Oronyx's power. You can listen to comparison video clips on the prior post I made about Mydei's backstory.

Furthermore, if we work from the assumption that these moments actually represent a rupture between timelines, then the rest of the inconsistencies can finally be cleared up:

In 3.0, Mydei says that his choice to leave Castrum Kremnos was not a forced exile but a "self-imposed" one:

And this aligns with what he stated in the Garden of Life to Phainon, that he and his friends "left Castrum Kremnos" to go into this self-imposed exile, rather than having never returned to Kremnos from the sea:

Furthermore, this also aligns with the angry NPCs in the past version of Castrum Kremnos that Trailblazer and Castorice travel back to:

Remember that this version of Castrum Kremnos was supposed to be occurring while Eurypon was still alive, so there is absolutely no way this line makes sense in the same universe where Eurypon didn't even know Mydei had survived. There isn't any way, in "our" timeline, that Mydei could have been both the "crown prince" of Kremnos for these NPCs and completely unknown to his father, the king.

These NPCs, furthermore, directly accuse Mydei of "deserting Kremnos," suggesting that Mydei was living in Castrum Kremnos as their prince, and then abandoned them to join Aglaea in Okhema, getting himself and everyone who went with him labelled as "traitors to Kremnos" in the process. None of this makes sense in the context of a timeline where no one in Kremnos knew he had even survived.

Instead, all of these elements point to a different sequence of events:

Gorgo lived, likely winning her duel and thereby (likely) giving her the right to save Mydei from the Sea of Souls and bring him back to Kremnos. He was raised by his mother as the beloved crown prince of Kremnos. Then, years later, as his father and Nikador both descended into full madness, Mydei and the Kremnoan detachment defected.

But what would have triggered this sudden need to defect after years of leading Kremnos as a well-liked prince?

The flashback between Mydei and Eurypon actually suggests a possible reason:

Apparently, at some point, in some timeline, Mydei knew about Eurypon's plan to break Nikador's divinity into separate parts and seal him away, harnessing the power of their titan for himself.

Yet the Mydei of 3.0 seems to have no idea about any of this, never able to give any explanation for how Nikador has degraded so much nor why Nikador is seemingly unkillable. Castorice, Mem, and the Trailblazer have to come up with the idea to go back in time to the past Kremnos by themselves, because Mydei never makes any mention of there ever having been a plot to break up and seal away Nikador's divinity, even when they walk past the very blades that did the sealing.

Finally, there's one last piece of conflicting information: While talking to Phainon in the Garden of Life, Mydei states that all of his friends died before the detachment could ever join up with Okhema and that all of their deaths occurred by the time he went to kill his father. But this conflicts with the NPCs above, who state that Mydei had already defected to Okhema and joined the Flame Chase Journey as a Chrysos Heir while his father was still alive.

This inconsistency is further reinforced by a memory fragment with Krateros, who confirms that Mydei had joined up with Okhema already before killing his father:

Putting all of this together, the complete series of events for this second timeline becomes:

Infant Mydei is quickly rescued from the Sea of Souls, is instead raised by his mother, and grows up as the crown prince of Castrum Kremnos with his five friends.

At some point, years later, he discovers Eurypon's plot to break up and imprison Nikador's divinity, and he and his friends and supporters defect from Kremnos as a result.

Either they go straight to Okhema (I'm inclined to say that "ten years of wandering" doesn't fit, chronologically speaking, into this secondary timeline) or they do wander a bit, but ultimately, Mydei reaches Okhema and aligns with Aglaea before killing his father.

After aligning the Kremnoan Detachment with Okhema, Mydei returns to Castrum Kremnos to kill his father, possibly to halt Eurypon's evil plan to harness Nikador's power.

At some point in this timeline, presumably before Mydei returns to kill his father, Gorgo likely still dies (possibly killed by Eurypon and/or Nikador), which explains why the Gorgo in the Sea of Souls seems to be the one convinced that she raised Mydei.

And this is just pure personal speculation, because there isn't enough evidence to really confirm it, but I almost feel like we can even pinpoint how/when the whole decision to defect to Okhema took place. At the end of Mydei's flashbacks to the "peaceful" Kremnos, Peucesta says that Mydei has been away from Kremnos for a while.

Leonnius assumes that Mydei was away on some apparently extended training trip, but this moment specifically ends with Gorgo welcoming Mydei home and asking him one very important question:

Obviously these lines are doing double duty, symbolically welcoming the present Mydei back to the ruins of Castrum Kremnos and asking him whether he's finally ready to take on his role as the "Guardian of Amphoreus." But as the wiki notes, this takes place in a flashback to the past, and for the "Mydei of the past" (aka the Mydei of the alternate timeline), this could very well have been Mydei disappearing from Kremnos to make contact with Aglaea in Okhema, and Gorgo questioning him about his decision to commit himself to the Flame Chase Journey, leading up to an ultimate and permanent defection from Kremnos. (This is just speculation though, trying to tie the last few loose ends together.)

Anyway, when taken from this perspective, that there are two separate backstories here, one from a world where Gorgo lived and the more prominent one where she died, we can sort all the seeming inconsistencies in Mydei's backstory into two surprisingly tidy and complete timelines.

I haven't yet found anything in any Mydei scene that doesn't fit one of these two scenarios, so I'm starting to definitely feel optimistic here that this writing was intentional, and that the "contradictory" backstory we're seeing for Mydei isn't "the worst continuity Star Rail has served up to date," but instead an actual deliberate choice to present us with a character whose memories are a hodge-podge of two divergent timelines, snippets of one timeline constantly erupting and "filling in the blanks" of the other.

I think this would be a fascinating way to lead up to the idea that Amphoreus's world isn't real, that it's a cobbled together story or set of memories that someone is barely holding together, and that it's constantly cyclical in nature, with events repeating with slight variations across times. The idea that Mydei is actually experiencing two different sets of memories crushed together into a tangled jumble and that he's only just now starting to become aware of the discrepancies would be such an excellent way to reinforce the "unreality" of Amphoreus's plot as a whole.

I really hope this is the direction that they take the story... Or at least that I won't one day be looking at all my Mydei posts and sadly thinking to myself that I put a lot more thought into the character's backstory than his own writers did, RIPPPPP. 😂😂😂

Cope with me, people!

[jinjeriffic]

DCxDP Persephone 2.0

(Somehow, even when I come up with an angsty scenario it turns into zany comedy hijinks. Send help.)

Cassie, Tim, Kon and Bart are hanging out, just chilling, when a glowing green minotaur pops out of nowhere and yoinks Wonder Girl into another dimension.

Obviously, Cassie is so not down with the whole kidnapping thing, so she starts beating up all the Greek mythological monsters in sight. Soon enough, Pandora pops out of the woodwork and orders everyone to stand down.

Pandora: *sigh* I ordered you to escort her here, not drag her kicking and screaming. Ugh, it's impossible to hire competent help these days. Come child, we have much to discuss.

Cassie: Uh, it's an honor to meet you ma'am, but why am I here?

Pandora: It's quite complicated I'm afraid. To make a long story short, a few years ago the tyrannical ghost king was defeated by a young ghost hero, and by right of conquest the crown passed to him. However, since he has not yet reached the age of majority a regency council was put in place until he is old enough to be formally crowned.

Cassie: What does that have to do with me?

Pandora: You see, your father, Zeus, wishes to make an alliance with this new power...

Cassie: Oh no

Pandora: ...and so he has offered your hand in marriage to the young prince, as he once did Persephone's to Hades.

Cassie: That fucking asshole!

Pandora: And the regency council has accepted on the prince's behalf.

Cassie: *cracks knuckles* So, what's your opinion on patricide?

***

When Cassie meets Danny, she fully expects him to be some pompous asshole.

Danny: I am so fucking sorry!

Cassie: Huh?

Danny: *wrings hands* I'm sorry you got dragged into this mess! This was not my idea! But the council are a bunch of stuck-up jerks who think this is for the good of the realm and...

Cassie: So the wedding is off?

Danny: Well... unfortunately Clockwork is the one who floated the idea? And he only gets directly involved if it's like, end of the world kind of stuff...

Cassie: Who's Clockwork?

Danny: The Master of Time. He uh, helped me prevent a potential future where my soul got merged with that of my arch-nemesis and I miiiight have wiped out all life on Earth. But uh, that timeline is gone and you don't have to worry about it!

Cassie, muttering: Chronos?

Danny: So I think we might be stuck with each other, unless you have an idea on how to get out of this?

Cassie: Well my friends are bound to come rescue me, so...

Danny: Stall?

Cassie: Stall.

Queen Dora, popping in with a dozen handmaidens, a measuring tape and hundreds of dress and fabric samples: ~ Who's ready for a makeover? ~

Cassie: Oh gods just kill me now

***

Cassie and Danny both go full Bridezilla in an effort to delay the wedding, nitpicking everything from the clothes to the flower arrangements.

Cassie: I am not wearing some poofy monstrosity to my wedding. I want a tux! If anyone's gonna wear a dress it's gonna be him.

Danny, posing in front of a mirror: What do you think, can I pull off a mermaid cut?

***

Eventually, they can stall no more and the day of the wedding arrives. Zeus is there to give her away as the father of the bride. Cassie tries to stab him with the cake topper.

The wedding proceeds, they are standing in front of the Observant who is officiating. Cassie is glaring murderously at Zeus. Danny just looks resigned. Suddenly, there's a loud screech and a bang. The team has arrived to crash the party...!

...by literally crash landing the stolen Specter Speeder on top of Zeus.

*smash cut to a flashback of Tim reading the Drs Fentons' research and breaking into Fentonworks*

Tim, Kon and Bart pop out of the smoking wreckage.

Tim: We object!

Observant, outraged: On what grounds?!

Kon: Wonder Girl can't marry the ghost prince, because... because I'm marrying her!

Tim and Bart: Wait what?

Danny: Oh thank fuck *rips off his veil and dress and chucks it at the Observant* Cassie, do you want to marry Superboy?

Cassie: I do!

Danny: Then by the power vested in me by the Crown and Ring, I now pronounce you Super and Wonder. You may kiss the bride or whatever.

Cassie dip kisses Kon in front of the assembled ghost citizenry. Tim and Danny disappear into a broom closet during the wedding reception. Bart demolishes like 90% of the buffet by himself.

***

In a dark room, Clockwork is repeatedly watching Zeus get pancaked in slow motion and chuckles to himself.

Roll Credits

[sooniebby]

ఌ 𝐌𝐀𝐊𝐍𝐀𝐄

w.c › 6k

Warnings › faceclaims. Part 1. Slow burn, some slight romance with Hyojin (but Mingi is still the main love interest).

Plot › you begin to learn just how obsessive Mingi is

Words to know › maknae (막내) — youngest. Hyung (형) — a term a younger male with call an older male.

ೄྀ࿐ ˊˎ-

Four Years Ago

“They’re going to add another member. To fill a gap, they feel that you guys another need main vocalist.”

When Dawon had told Mingi and the others that, it was like hell broke loose. They all couldn’t believe that the company really believed they weren’t good enough, after all that training.

Hyojin, however, didn’t see the problem with it. He could actually understand where the company was coming from—even if he did hate them for other reasons.

He didn’t think the others couldn’t sing but there was something he felt was missing. A more mature voice—sultry he’d say.

Which was why when everyone met you, he could understand why the company put you in the group. You were the package deal, minus rapping, but that was okay. And while he’d never tell Yohan, you were a much better leader than he could ever be.

So he was a bit upset for you when the other members were set on ignoring you.

The group was finally filming for their debut single. It was a school boy concept, young love and all that. Hyojin didn’t care too much about that. As long as the song was good and he wasn’t forced to make garbage music, he was fine.

“Okay, guys, we’re going to do pairs for this shot,” Gaeul said, getting the boys attentions. “The director said the pairs don’t matter. So, you guys can pick.”

Hyojin didn’t have to put two and two together that it would get awkward fast if they got to who would be forced to pair with you.

So, he eagerly stood up from his seat, “I’ll pair with (Name)-Ssi.” He said, fixing the tie to his uniform. He ignored the glances the others gave him as he looked over at you.

You were staring at him with a shocked face before a wide grin pulled on your lips, “Okay.”

Hyojin smiled slightly. He moved to follow you to the shooting area when he caught a glimpse of Mingi. His eyes widen as he saw Mingi staring at him as if he wanted to murder him. The boy was picking at his pants as he glared at him.

Who knew someone so young could make such a scary face?

Though he didn’t understand why Mingi seemed so angry? Did he.. want to pair with you?

That didn’t make any sense—he didn’t exactly talk to you.

Oh well, Hyojin had other things to worry about.

He was a bit awkward for the camera so he wasn’t having the best of time filming. The amount of times the director told him to not look like he’s having a war flashback was too many to count.

The set was a bedroom, stuff randomly around. This director had wanted it to feel a bit more real and only gave you and Hyojin the direction to act like students who were discussing how to confess to their crush.

Hyojin didn’t know how the fuck he was supposed to do that but you seemed to understand.

Once the camera began to roll, you basically stole the scene with ease. Acting cute seemed like second nature to you. Hyojin just followed whatever you did, letting you lead him.

Just as the scene was about to end, you both sat on the bed as you opened a fake note. Hyojin leaned in to see that there was a little stick figure drawing, causing him to crack a slight smile.

He glanced over and felt himself freeze, your face close to his. You were staring at him with eyes he couldn’t really describe. A soft gaze as a slight smile pulled on your lips.

Did they put lipstick on your—

“Cut!”

“Great job, guys!” Gaeul said, walking over to you two. You easily pulled away as Hyojin tried to think about what just happened.

“Thanks for pairing with me, Hyojin-Ssi.” You said, smiling at him. The rest of the sentence didn’t need to be said.

“I wanted to pair with you… uhm, you don’t need to speak so politely with me.” He said, deciding to bridge the gap.

Your eyes widen before you eagerly nodded, “okay. Call me Hyung then, Jinnie.”

Jinnie?

Oh man, you were too cute.

Gaeul coughed, clapping her hands together, “great, you two are cute! But c’mon, you guys need to film a quick video for the vlog the Dawon is making.”

You and Hyojin joined the other members back in the dressing room. Dawon was holding a camera as he motioned for the group to stand up and start the intro. You stood in the middle as Hyojin stood on your left while a disgruntled Yohan on your right.

It seemed like Yohan wouldn’t like you at all… or anyone besides Hyojin for that matter.

Every member immediately got their camera ready persona on as you smiled, ready to start the introduction when someone stopped you.

“Ah, Hong (Name)-Ssi, you shouldn’t smile, it’ll go against the boyfriend image we have for you,” one of the producers said, causing you to freeze.

Another one hummed in agreement, “and maybe angle your head a bit to left, your face looks better on camera that way.”

Gaeul let out a grunt, “uh, thanks… but I’m his manager.. I can handle the group.”

“Well, handle him better.”

You ignored the questioning stares the members gave you as you dropped your smile. Hyojin wanted to say something back but he was a rookie—he had no power over the people funding their debut.

He could only watch as the light in your eyes practically went out from their berating. From that moment, he could easily tell there was a different set of standards you had to meet compared to the others.

From then on, he was going to help you, in anyway he can.

That’s why he’s your favorite… right?

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

You wanted to die.

At age twenty five you came like a teenage boy right in front of your maknae.

How embarrassing.

You grabbed your pillow and let out a loud scream, wanting to just close your eyes and never wake up. Mingi was taking a shower and you were scared he’d come into your room later.

There was no way in hell you wanted to see him again tonight.

Maybe tomorrow.

Or a few weeks.

You glanced over at your phone and stared at it for a few minutes. Maybe some posts from those freaky Miras would make you appreciate life again. Or something like that. Whatever bullshit idea you could come up with to justify you still going to the NSFW side of your fandom.

Now that you knew about the rise of gay/bisexual men into you, you wondered if you could find any.

Your biggest fan account, itsokokok had recently posted so decided to see if maybe they were congregating in the replies.

The new three posts of today was from three hours ago. It was from three different album promotions.

The first was from debut: it was a short clip of you in the music video. Your duo scene with Hyojin. You didn’t remember just how cute you acted in it, really playing up the teen boy being in love.

You checked the comments, many filled with people that weren’t Miras. Most of it was just guys saying you were really cute but in a natural way.

Second was of your performance from… pre debut? Huh, how did they find this? You looked to be maybe fifteen—a performance from your high school’s talent show. The video was of you dressed in a suit and tie performing A.D.T.O.Y by 2pm.

Quite the song for fetus you to be performing but hey, none of the adults stopped you.

It seemed the comments did have morals and mostly just complimented your ability to sing and dance at the same time. Though a few wanted you to preform the dance now… probably to thirst over you.

Lastly, the third video was one year old, a short clip of the music video for your second to last comeback. You didn’t know how they could thirst over this but you clicked on the video.

You were wet in the video, standing in front of a swimming pool. Dressed in a white button up and black slacks. The white shirt was stuck to your skin as you delivered your line, tugging at the loose tie around your neck.

At the time, you didn’t find the whole aspect of being wet on camera a bad thing. The song was about drowning in your feelings so being wet made sense.

Though you now regretted it.

@bluemuuun

↳ need him bad… don’t even know his name

@hanniesmira

↳ you don’t know Miracle?! Hong (Name) from Miracle? Dude you’re missing out, they have great songs

@bluemuuun

↳ I’m not even into kpop, I just want to fuck him ㅋㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@slipslickk

↳ he looks good wet—I need one of his members to fuck him on stage already pls

@dohasflatass

↳ wonder if Min collapsed after seeing (Name) during shooting ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

@hanniesmira

↳ knowing min, he probably threatened anyone who stared for too long ㅎㅎㅎ

@hyunkikii

↳ Mrcle definitely take turns on his ass, got a phatty for real

@hyoojinie

↳ his gaze into the camera is so slutty

Just as you were about to log out, you came across an older post itsokokok posted. It was of your early debut. One of the stage performances. It followed you dancing with a stoic face right when it was your center turn until it was Yohan’s turn.

As soon as the main camera was off you, a wide smile pulled on your lips as you danced along. Whenever it was your turn to sing, you immediately dropped the smile.

You were mostly following the orders the company gave you. Being the stoic boyfriend.

Nowadays you stopped caring but back then you were so scared of being taken out of the group that you followed whatever the company told you.

The comments were filled with comments of Miras, a few stating they missed this side of you. If only they knew that it wasn’t the real you. You scrolled through the comments before seeing one by itsokokok himself.

He was responding to someone saying they loved you when acted stoic, and hating this new ‘fake’ you.

→ then you don’t know the true him

You sat up, staring at the comment for a moment. Itsokokok didn’t seem to really comment. He had little to none captions and just posted once everyday at random times, possibly whenever he was free. It wasn’t even anything too crazy but the comment oddly felt like he knew you?

Well, probably not. He might’ve just noticed that you were putting on an act due to your pre-debut activities. It was a drastic difference if you paid any attention.

Speaking of, how did he find any of your pre-debut stuff? You tried to think if you maybe posted them yourself or maybe your classmates or something.

Maybe your mom? She loved posting videos of your performances on her Instagram. She even gained a lot of followers because of it. Her account was basically a fan account at this point.

He might’ve just found the pre-debut performances she posted, it’s not like she’s hiding it.

You shrugged. It wasn’t too creepy. He seemed to actually appreciate you.

And that’s all you can really ask for in a fan.

“Hyung.”

You blushed and quickly turned off your phone. Mingi stepped into your room, rubbing at his face as he got on your bed. You simply watched him get comfortable before glancing over at you.

“You’re so stiff.” He said, a slight smirk on his lips. “Are you scared I’ll eat you in your sleep?”

“Mingi!” You bristled, quickly turning off your lamp as you got underneath your covered. You kept your back to him as you tried to drown out his laugh.

It was silent after a minute. You glanced back to see him fast asleep. That was fast.

Staring at him, you wondered how much he’s changed. He wasn’t seventeen anymore.

Maybe he really did love you…

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“Solo activity?”

Your group mates were looking at you in shock. It had been almost a month since Gaeul had told you about your change in marketing and now the company finally has something for you. Your solo stage.

They were all in your apartment, getting comfy on the couch when you suddenly came out ready to leave. Everyone had been practicing daily for the comeback that they had planned for a relaxed day today.

“Yeah.” You said, feeling a bit nervous. “Did.. Dawon Hyung forget to tell you guys?”

“Oh, yeah, he did.” Yohan muttered.

“I didn’t think you’d actually do it.” Doha said, glancing back at the tv. You wanted to ask what he meant by that but then Yohan delivered a swift kick to Doha’s shin.

“Have you been practicing before us then?” Kihyun suddenly asked. “You’re already prepared to perform it?”

“Mhm… I’ve been practicing daily after our recording sessions.” You bit your lip. “It’s an easy song to learn.”

“Ah okay,” Yohan said, speaking for the others who were just staring at you. “Do you want one of us to come with?”

“Come—? Uh, uhm.” Your eyes gazed at them in disbelief. They wanted to come? Why did it feel like they were attached to your hip these days?

Mingi rolled his eyes, coming out from the kitchen. “(Name) Hyung doesn’t need someone with him. He’s not a baby.”

“You’re just jealous he might not choose you,” Doha shot back, smirking at the deadly glare Mingi sent his way.

“Ah, I guess I could bring one of you guys,” you said, causing them to perk up immediately. Their eyes stared right into your soul. You felt your hands sweat as you tried to think about who to choose.

No way would you choose Mingi… he was making you uncomfortable these days. The way he gazes at you like you’re his entire world is insane!

Yohan would be too annoying.

Kihyun would be a bit awkward.

Doha was being annoying to Mingi and you didn’t want reward his behavior.

Your gaze narrowed in on Hyojin. His eyes met yours as a slight grin pulled on his lips. That’s all he needed as he stood up with a triumphant smile. The others immediately groaned and shook their heads in annoyance.

Hyojin moved to follow you out the door when Mingi suddenly grabbed his arm. You almost yelled at Mingi for his aggressive behavior but Hyojin didn’t look shocked at all.

Mingi whispered something while Hyojin rolled his eyes.

“Childish.” He said, shaking his head. “Don’t worry, I won’t touch what’s yours. You should worry about Yohan Hyung instead.”

“What? Yah, what are you talking about?!” Yohan yelled, glancing over at Mingi.

You stood there mouth agape. Mingi didn’t… no way he wouldn’t.. Hyojin grabbed your hand before you could properly spiral and lead you out of the apartment.

Just what the hell was Mingi’s problem?

Hyojin didn’t see you romantically, what is he worrying about?

Once you reached the music show, you were quickly dressed in an outfit to match the song you were performing. It was business casual, apparently.

Hyojin sat on the couch as the stylist helped you get dressed. He was silent for the most part, tapping away on his phone. It was another reason why you chose him. He wasn’t an annoying little shit like the rest of them.

“Jinnie,” you called, fixing the fake glasses on your face. “How does Hyung look?”

It took a minute before he finally glanced up. His eyes widen as he took you in. You were dressed in a white button up, sleeves rolled up with a loose black tie. Black slacks with sleek black dress shoes.

“It reminds me of something I wore before,” you laughed, tugging at the tie as you looked over at him.

Hyojin coughed, the tip of his ears getting red as he mutely nodded. “Mhm… you make it so hard, Hyung.”

“Hm?” You tilted your head, walking over to him as you plopped down beside him on the couch.

“I think Mingi will be upset if I told you… but everyone in the group has.. liked you.”

“Liked me? Like…”

“Romantically.” Hyojin said, smiling slightly. “But Mingi had stronger feelings for you.”

“So what… did he.. did he tell you guys to back off or something?” You asked, still reeling from the fact your members liked you. The thought seemed ludicrous!

“Yeah.” Hyojin said bluntly. “Something like that.”

You raised an eyebrow, “what did he do?”

“Secret.”

“Hyojin.”

“Mhmmm, I can’t remember.”

You glared at him as he went back to his phone. “I don’t understand. You guys really liked me..? How? Why?”

Hyojin shrugged. “I don’t know about the rest of them.. but I just liked you for you. But it wasn’t the strongest feelings.”

The strongest… You briefly wondered about Kihyun. Maybe he had stronger feelings for Kihyun?

But before you could ask, a staff member called for you. Hyojin gave you a thumbs up as you got up and left.

While you were nervous, you weren’t exactly nervous to preform on stage alone. You’ve always performed alone before debuting in Miracle.

The month you spent practicing for the song was a breeze. It was a song that took inspiration from a past song you composed. The choreographer didn’t go all out with the dance.

Though what you were really nervous about was if people would actually care.

What if the so called growing interest in you deflated immediately?

You shook your head, walking onto stage. A group of six dancers followed you. The crowed actually cheered a bit when you came on. There was a few Miracle lightsticks. But immediately, a group of male voices rung out in the building.

Everyone seemed shocked at how loud they were, even the dancers as they got into position. You couldn’t help but grin and eagerly wave at them.

“귀여! ♡♡♡♡!”

“Thank you!” You said into your mic, laughing at the immediate screams from the crowd. You walked to your position, letting the dancers grab your waist as they pulled you to sit on two of their arms—a makeshift throne.

The lights dimmed as you got ready to perform. You tried to remember all the times you performed alone and channeled the energy of younger you.

While you would dance, you would focus mostly on having great vocals. This song was a taste into the title track, you needed to show a great intro.

The performance started with a slight hiccup when the back track started before you but you continued as if nothing happened. It allowed for your vocals to truly show anyway.

The major part of the song that seemed to get most of the crowd excited was when one of the dancers grabbed your tie and tugged you towards him. You couldn’t help the slight blush during that part, feeling oddly excited over it as well.

Was this a kink?

You ended the oddly homoerotic song with the dancers kneeling in front of you, your hand digging into one of the men’s hair.

Cheers erupted as soon as you were finished. You felt excited, hearing mostly male voices scream your name. The dancers immediately stood up and grabbed you, lifting you up in the air as you shrieked in shock. Your arms immediately wrapped around one of their shoulders at the sudden movement.

If only you knew just how angry this little action would make a certain someone.

The drive home felt long for some reason. Hyojin was on his phone so you decided to check how Miras were doing.

Not too surprising, not that many Miras talked about the performance. However non fans were praising it. Itsokokok had posted.

It was three posts, seems like he had a pattern. The first was of your recent performance. A short video of the moment when the dancer pulled your tie. Your face didn’t hide any of the hidden pleasure you got from that short moment.

During practice, the pull was never harsh so it really did shock you when he tugged it harder this time around.

Of course, the comments were filled with people thirsting. Mostly non fans—gay men in particular. The same Miras that actually liked you were thirsting over you while also gushing at how you finally had a solo activity.

Shocker, the NSFW side that talked about your members fucking you actually appreciated you.

The next post was of a pre-debut one. This time, it was a nineteen year old you preforming an original song. It was the song the company used to create the solo song you just preformed.

Most of the comments didn’t seem to notice this at all. You were mainly shocked the account owner even found this clip.

Lastly, it was a clip from the group’s occasional vlog. From the setting, it was of the time the group was planning Mingi’s nineteenth birthday. You were kneeling down as you picked something up.

The camera was just on you as you arched your back by pure instinct. You don’t even remember doing that. A laugh was heard from the camera man, you quickly noticed it was Yohan filming before video you looked back and glared at Yohan.

“Go do something useful!” You had yelled, “Minnie’s party has to be good. I won’t let you ruin it.”

@bluemuuun

↳ does his back naturally arch like that??

@hanniesmira

↳ his relationship with min is so cute.. i bet today’s performance killed min ㅋㅋㅋ

Before you could read the rest, the van reached the apartment complex. You and Hyojin left as you got inside. Hyojin waved you good night before going into his shared apartment with Kihyun.

You wondered back to his claim of the members all liking you.

That just didn’t make any sense.

As you moved to unlock the door to your apartment, it swung open, showing a pissed Mingi.

Fuck.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

“How was the performance?”

Hyojin glanced over at Kihyun. He had just walked in and was set on just speed walking straight to his bedroom. Kihyun was sitting in the couch and didn’t look away from the tv.

“It was good, Hyung is a good performer.” Hyojin muttered, slipping off his shoes. He slipped off his coat and slowly walked over to the living room.

“Yeah, he is.”

“Well… I’ll go to bed—”

“Hyojin.”

Hyojin sighed, looking back at Kihyun. Kihyun was finally looking over at him. His piercing gaze made his back tense. The slight hums of the tv filled the odd tension as Hyojin fought the urge to just walk away. It was too late to be dealing with this.

“Are you… still upset about what I said this morning?” Kihyun finally said, his gaze softening.

“Why wouldn’t I be?”

Kihyun stood up from the couch as he walked over to Hyojin. “I didn’t think it would upset you… I thought you were over him.”

Hyojin felt his jaw tighten, “you might’ve gotten over Hyung easily but I actually liked him. I liked him a lot—I only backed off because Mingi was right, (Name) Hyung would never see me romantically.”

“So… what’s the problem? Aren’t we—?”

“—dating?” Hyojin pinched his nose before letting out a sigh. “I don’t know, are we? You only want to have sex, nothing else. Even if we are ‘dating’—I won’t allow you to speak about my past feelings as if they were trivial.

“(Name) Hyung is an important part of my life, especially because he’s still here. It’d be different if he wasn’t around anymore. So I’m sorry, Hyung, my feelings for (Name) Hyung wasn’t some three second attraction like yours… If two years ago, (Name) Hyung had returned my feelings in anyway… I’d never have gotten with you.”

Kihyun sighed, “I didn’t mean it that way, Hyojin… I didn’t realize you had liked him that much. I—”

“Hyung.” Hyojin interrupted him. “Come back to me once you figure out if you want to be boyfriends or just fuck buddies. I’m not breaking myself over another guy.”

With that, he walked into his room, slamming the door shut.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Mingi immediately tugged you inside and glared at you. “What type of solo stage was that?”

“What do you mean?” You asked, moving to walk to your room. Mingi was already following you as you tried to keep yourself calm.

You were older! You’re the group leader… he needs to.. he can’t treat you like this.

Especially over a simple performance.

“Hyung.” Mingi’s voice was tight. “We’ve never performed a song like that before—the company never allowed it.”

“Well they’re just trying something new with me. They’ve finally noticed a group of people they can advertise me to. I can..” you placed your bag on your bed and sighed, “I can gain some fans that actually care about me.”

“Fans? Is that all you care about? What about the music?”

“Mingi, obviously I care about the music!” You said, staring at him as he stood in your doorway. “But it’s normal to want positive feedback from sharing your art! You get it all the time, I’ve seen how Miras react to you.”

“So what, you’ll feed into the silly relationship the company uses to get people’s money?!”

You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “Mingi, it’s not that serious. I’ve always wanted to do a sexy concept anyway—no one forced me.”

As you glanced back at him, any anger you had tempered down. You couldn’t be mad at him—not for long anyway. “I get it… you’re just worried but I consented to everything.” You muttered, hoping that would calm him down.

“So you consented to be whored out for some fans that only like you because they want to fuck you?”

You blinked.

Once.

Twice.

Thrice.

A laugh left your lips as you stared straight at Mingi.

“Choi Mingi.” You whispered, your gaze hardening as your fists clenched. The words you wanted to say was in the tip of your tongue and if you weren’t so angry—you would’ve held back.

But you didn’t.

“Remember your place.” You said, walking over to him. “I am your Hyung, not your boyfriend. I’m not yours and you can’t act so possessive over me, do you understand? I don’t know what you told the others but it’s not your right to tell them to back off.”

“You—?”

“Yes I know! I’m not your boyfriend and I won’t ever be your boyfriend!” You yelled, pushing Mingi out of your room, causing him to bang his head right against the wall. He stared at you in shock as you froze. Any anger you had was gone as you wanted to rush and check if he was okay.

But you couldn’t.

You shouldn’t.

You cleared your throat as you glanced down at the ground. Your throat felt tight. “Choi Mingi, I don’t think you really love me… because if you did, you wouldn’t have insulted me to my face.”

A pained whimper left your throat as you quickly looked away from Mingi. “I’ll go… spend tonight with Hyojin. Don’t.. don’t bother me.. please.” You whispered, moving to leave as quickly as you could.

A hand gripped your arm before you could even step an inch away. Your body tensed as you waited to see what Mingi would say. He didn’t feel like that boy you knew… how much had he changed?

You reluctantly glanced back to see what he was going to say only to see him kneel down. Your eyes widen as he pressed his head against the floor, hands resting on the ground.

“죄송합니다. 죄송합니다, 형.”

“Mingi…” You whispered. You slowly knelt down and gripped at Mingi’s shoulders, pushing to make him sit up but he fought against you. He kept repeating himself, his words slowly being muffled by the sound of his gasps.

“Mingi. Choi Mingi.” With his refusal to look up, you decided to try a different method. “I’ll leave.. I’ll go to Hyojin if you don’t look at me.”

You got whiplash at how quick he looked up. Your gaze softening at the sight of his face. His eyes were red as tears streamed down his face, his face blotchy and red already. He kept gasping for air as if crying so hard was taking his breath away.

Despite yourself, you remembered the only other time he cried so hard in front of you.

“Childish. You really are childish.” You whispered, wiping away at his face. His body physically loosened at your touch as he leaned into it. Though you could tell he wasn’t coming any closer, even if his hands twitched to touch you.

It didn’t look like he was in the capacity to speak so you decided to do it for him.

“I’m upset, Mingi. I’m so upset you would hurt me like this. Were you jealous? Why would you say that about me?”

Mingi shook his head.

“Then why did you say that? What could you have possibly meant?”

“Scared..” he managed to mutter, taking a second to take a deep breath. “You’re… older… I’m… younger… the.. dancer… older… what if… what if you want an older man…? What if… you’ll leave me… because he’s better..”

You blinked, staring at him confusion. “Mingi, that’s so silly.” You whispered, cooing when he tried to glare at you—it didn’t pack a punch with his face wet with tears. “You were insecure and that’s okay… but that was not the way to go about it. Are you scared that… I’ll leave you if I get more fans?”

He hummed. “You… might… leave the group.”

“Why would I? You have solo activities but you don’t want to leave the group. I can have solo activities too. I like our group. You’re really acting your age, Mingi.”

That seemed to be the wrong thing to say as he immediately began to try and pull away. You pulled him back in quickly as you brought his face to yours.

“Next time, if you’re feeling a certain way, you can.. voice it? Instead of talking down on me, okay?” You said, giving him a slight smile. “But I’m happy you immediately apologized. I didn’t think you would do that.”

Mingi sniffled, finally sitting up straight. “It’s because I—”

You clamped his mouth shut, a blush on your face. Mingi only rolled his eyes. Even when he was sad he had the strength to roll his eyes. Wow.

Despite yourself, the previous anger wasn’t as strong anymore. You didn’t think you would be so easy to forgive but you were. Was it because he apologized? He seemed so sincere that you knew it wasn’t a joke—Mingi can’t cry on command, he’s tried many times.

Surprisingly only Kihyun could.

He… he really loved you?

“Minnie,” you said, unable to hide the smile at his eager gaze from hearing his nickname. “Is it true… that you told the other members to back off?”

Mingi frowned before he silently nodded.

“Why….?”

He pulled your hand away from his mouth as he looked away. “They didn’t love you like I do. It was just simple infatuation…”

“How could you be so sure?”

Mingi raised an eyebrow, “Hyung, I’ve trained with them since I was fourteen… I’ve known them longer than you do. Besides, it’s not like they fought me on it… well not all of them.”

“All of them…? Did…?”

“One person disagreed.”

“Who?”

“Secret.”

“Mingi.”

“Ah, I can’t really remember.”

“You and Hyojin are the same, little shits.” You sighed, rubbing the bridge of your nose. “But still, that was wrong of you. You shouldn’t mess with anyone else’s feelings.”

Mingi looked as if he wanted to talk back but simply nodded. “Okay… it was two years ago anyway.”

“Two years ago?”

“Mhm. On my nineteenth birthday.”

“Ah.”

You wanted to ask more but it looked like Mingi was done talking. He rubbed at his eyes as he began wiping at his tear stained face. While you weren’t angry anymore, you still weren’t exactly so forgiving without any work on Mingi’s part.

“Minnie,” you said, watching as he perked up. “I’m still mad… so you can’t touch me at all for a month.”

His eyes widen as he stared at you as if you just told him his parents died in a plane crash. His lips wobbled as a pained grunt left him, he was obviously trying to plead a case but the rational part of him knew not to push it.

He looked as if he’d cry again.

You only smiled. “Punishment for calling your Hyung a whore. I think I’m being quite nice, don’t you think?”

Mingi squared his jaw. “Yes, Hyung…”

“Good boy.” You whispered, smirking at his pained expression. “You can’t sleep with me tonight, unless you want to sleep on the floor. Night, Minnie.”

Mingi was going to have a tough month.

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

→ have you guys seen this performance??

→ 씨발! If I had a dick it’d be hard ㅋㅋㅋㅋ

→ who is this???

→ he sounds so good??

→ wish I could pay attention to the lyrics but his ass is distracting me

→ 대박! He sounds so stable

→ I found his group performances!!! Why is he so underrated??

→ does he have any other solo work?

→ my dick hard

→ the group sings so well, I’ll tune in for their comeback!!

→ his photo cards are cheap!! I’ll buy a dozen ㅋㅋㅋ

→ I think I came

ཆི❤︎ཆྀ

Three years ago

Mingi was confused. He saw so many fan accounts for other members. Way too many for himself—he didn’t get what was so special about him. But little to none accounts solely for you. The group had debuted a year ago, surely someone likes you enough to create an account?

He sighed, scrolling through the lists of popular Miras accounts. Why weren’t they praising you? You were the best, a great singer, dancer, and leader.

Was it because you didn’t fit the Korean beauty standards?

How stupid.

Mingi didn’t care about what fans thought of him so long as they liked the music—but it seemed to bother you that no one was giving you any attention.

So, he decided to rectify that.

It took him a minute but he soon figured out how to create an account.

He chose his profile picture—a picture from the group’s season greetings, one where you had frosting on your nose as you smiled at the camera.

He’d never use social media before so his generic names for the account were all taken. He didn’t know what else to name the stupid account as, it was just so he could post pictures and videos of you.

After a short break before he mentally crashed out, he decided on a different name.

Itsokokok

It was a lyric from the group’s debut title track. Your first line of the song. Not many people would probably know but that was fine with him. The account was honestly mainly for him.

He didn’t know what his first post should be so he decided on a picture he took of you. Luckily he had posted it on the group’s Instagram so no one would think anything of it. It was a candid photo, you were looking up from your phone because he had called your name. You looked so cute despite how tired you were.

His first ever picture of you was his first ever post.

Shit, he was down bad.

no smut this time, sorry yall, but chapter three will give yall what’s deserved, next week Friday. Trying something different with this OC. Anyway, next chapter, he’s about to get freaky. Also can you guess who was the member that refused Mingi’s request? ;)

죄송합니다 — is the most formal way to say sorry in Korean

Tag list: @euthymiko @love-kha1 @iwishtobeacrow @chill-guy-but-cooler @tehyunnie @tomoeroi @smellwell @remdayz @star-3214 @mooncarvers-world @rhetorical-conscience @cherry-blossoms-187 @ofclyde @the-ultimate-librarian @kiiyoooo @secretivemessenger @mello-life25 @yuzuukix @bensontrechic @onementally-unstabel-kid @me-when-life @bangbangdevotee @chaevvonders @bangchansdirty-slut @honey-valentin3 @hoshimochicchi @lucaisnothere @jaxyy219



[sluttywonwoo]

make 'em sweat

pairing: jeon wonwoo x f reader

summary: introducing you to his friends doesn't go quite the way wonwoo expected (title from water by seventeen ; technically a sequel to fuck the neighbors but can be read as a standalone)

warnings: swearing, angst, "what are we" discussion, self-degradation, mingyu is canonically a whore pt deux, jealousy, smut (mdni)

smut warnings: discussions of reader's sexual past, sub!wonwoo in a flashback, public-ish sex, light exhibitionism, fingering, unprotected sex, massive cock!wonwoo, reader is lowkey a size queen lol, choking, creampie, cum eating

word count: 6.1k

You’re bringing your girlfriend to Jihoon’s birthday, right?”

Wonwoo rolls his eyes at his roommate even though his back is turned to him. “She’s not my girlfriend.”

Mingyu gives an equally exasperated huff in return. “What would you call her then? She’s obviously more than just a friend. It doesn’t matter whether you’re at her place or ours, I can still hear you two going at it like animals practically every night.” 

“We’re just repaying the favor,” Wonwoo scoffs before turning defensive. “We’re… figuring things out right now.”

“You’ve been ‘figuring things out’ for months, bro. When are you going to just get the balls to ask her to be exclusive?” 

“We are exclusive,” he insists. 

It’s at least true on Wonwoo’s side. He wasn’t seeing anyone else. In fact, he’d told you as much when you casually asked if he was sleeping with anyone else one night after a few rounds in bed. He answered honestly, saying no and asking you the same. You also told him no, but you did put an emphasis on “I’m not sleeping with anyone else”, whatever that meant. It only caused Wonwoo a little bit of anxiety every time he relived that conversation in his head, trying to piece together what you could have been trying to imply. 

“You do like her, right?” Mingyu presses.

Wonwoo sighs. “You know I do. There’s no point in lying to you.”

“Then lock it down! She won’t wait forever.” 

“How do you know that’s even something she wants?”

“Because if all she wanted was sex, she wouldn’t sleep over when her own bed is right next door.”

“Flimsy evidence, at best. Wouldn’t hold up in court.”

“Do you want me to provide more examples?”

Wonwoo surrenders. “Fine, maybe I’m a coward. I just like what we have going on right now. I don’t want it to change if we put a label on it.”

Mingyu purses his lips. He looks like he wants to say more but decides against it. 

“Are you bringing her or not?” is what he says finally. “Soonyoung’s trying to get a headcount.” 

“Yeah, she’s coming,” Wonwoo concedes.

“You know, you could have just said yes when I asked and we would’ve avoided this whole ordeal.”

Wonwoo decides to change the subject. “Are you bringing anyone?”

His best friend shrugs. “I don’t know yet.” Figures. “I told Soon to put me down for a plus-one just in case.”

Mingyu ignores the snort that he gets as a response and finishes whatever text he’d drafted to Soonyoung. He joins Wonwoo on their couch and reclines with his arms stretched across the back. 

“Do you think they’ll scare her away?” he asks. 

“The guys?”

“Yeah. I mean, you’ve never brought a girl around. They’re going to be all over you two the whole night.”

Wonwoo cocks his head to the side as he considers it. “They can be a little intense but it’s nothing she can’t handle.” 

Mingyu shrugs. “Throwing her to the wolves before making it official, respect.”

Wonwoo isn’t sure if Mingyu is trying to sike him out on purpose or not but either way it was starting to work. He isn’t keen on sharing you, especially when you’re not his to share. It’s too late to change his mind, though. He already invited you, it wasn’t like he could take it back now. Not without looking like a total asshole. 

“It’s just one night,” Wonwoo says, trying to convince both his roommate and himself, “I’m sure it’ll be fine.”

-

Wonwoo hears Mingyu answer the door at six o’clock on the dot. Living next door to each other made it easy to be punctual, although admittedly Wonwoo did sometimes lose track of time when he was gaming- but he was trying to be better about it! 

“Hey, you,” Mingyu says in greeting. “You look great.”

“So do you,” you reply. “Where’s Wonwoo? Did he ditch me already?”

There was his cue. He would’ve been the one to meet you at the door but he was still getting dressed when you knocked. He didn’t usually have to put much thought into what he wore so having to find an outfit that fit a theme was somewhat uncharted territory. He steps out into the living room with a black tank halfway over his shoulders, pulling it down all the way to his waistband as crosses the room to greet you with a hug. 

“No need to put a shirt on for me,” you say cheekily. 

Wonwoo feels his cheeks flush under both you and Mingyu’s gazes but he decides he can’t go down without a fight.

“This is for your benefit,” he quips. “We have to get to Jihoon’s on time. Didn’t want to distract you, you know.”

“So courteous,” you scoff. 

“Always a gentleman.”

You look like you want to disagree but with Mingyu standing right there already looking vaguely uncomfortable, you don’t. 

“You look nice,” he adds, suddenly remembering the sort of thing kinda-boyfriends are supposed to say to their kinda-girlfriends. 

You look more than nice, you look... incredible. But Wonwoo’s brain can’t think of any more effusive adjectives at present on account of just how incredible you look.

Soonyoung had said that the dress code for his roommate’s birthday was “red”, and that if you showed up in any other color you’d be turned away at the door, not allowed to join the festivities until you went home and changed. Wonwoo had relayed this information to you and you followed through, showing up in a short black skirt and a red leather... bustier? Corset? Wonwoo didn’t know what it was called but it was red and tight and laced up in the back. 

“So do you,” you reply sweetly, running a hand down the front of Wonwoo’s shirt, “but your friend is going to kick you out.”

“Right.” 

Wonwoo detaches himself from you and darts back to his room to grab the red leather jacket that was hanging on the back of his desk chair. It was just a coincidence that you had both decided to wear leather but it made Wonwoo secretly happy to know you’d be matching all night. 

“Almost forgot,” he explains when he reemerges with the jacket on. 

“Are we ready to go?” Mingyu asks. “Soonyoung is going to bitch at us for a week if we’re later than ten minutes.”

“We’re making good time,” Wonwoo assures him. 

“We don’t know what the traffic situation is going to be like! And maybe the taxi guy’s a slow driver-- it’s better to leave earlier just in case.”

Wonwoo sighs and places a hand on the small of your back to urge you forward. “Okay, okay, we’re going.”

He sees you suppress a smile behind your hand which makes him grin too but he turns his head so that you and Mingyu won’t see. 

Mingyu reaches the door first and holds it open for you to pass through before both of them but Wonwoo stops you by grabbing your hand. 

“Wait, are you going to be cold?” 

“I have a jacket,” you tell him. 

He looks you up and down in confusion. You’re not wearing a jacket and all you have in your free hand is a clutch. 

“Where?”

You let go of his hand and tug on one side of his own jacket. “Right here.”

Wonwoo chuckles. “Of course.”

“The car’s downstairs,” Mingyu huffs impatiently. 

“Chill out, white rabbit. They’re not not going to leave us.”

“White rabbit?” you ask as they follow you out into the hallway. 

“Yeah, you know the one that’s got the pocket watch from Alice in Wonderland?” 

“That’s kind of a random reference.”

“I’m well-read.”

“Isn’t that a children’s book?” Mingyu chimes in.

“No more questions.”

-

You get squished in between Wonwoo and Mingyu in the backseat of the cab. They both try to make themselves smaller to give you more space but they’re just so tall that their efforts are mostly in vain. 

“How much do I owe you for this?” you ask Mingyu, pulling your phone out to transfer your share to him. 

He shrugs you off. “Don’t worry about it. Your, um, Wonwoo’s covering yours.”

Wonwoo reaches over and locks your phone before you can start to type in his information. “Don’t.”

“But-”

“Don’t make me block your number. I’ll do it.”

You pout and fold your arms across your chest in defeat, prompting Mingyu to jump in and change the subject. 

“Are you nervous?”

“A little,” you admit. “It sounds like there are a lot of them. I just don’t want to mix anyone up.”

“We’re a big group,” Mingyu agrees almost apologetically.

“They won’t mind if you do get them mixed up at first,” Wonwoo promises. 

“Except for Chan and Seungkwan.”

Wonwoo shoots Mingyu a look as you sink further in your seat. He clumsily attempts to do some damage control. 

“You already know Wonwoo and I. We’ll have your back.”

You nod but Wonwoo can still sense your apprehension. He puts a hand on your knee to try to comfort you, only to feel you tense up underneath his touch. Now you’re both anxious. 

-

The three of you get to Jihoon and Soonyoung’s pretty much right on time despite Mingyu’s worries. Jihoon’s the one to answer the door with his roommate right on his heels. 

“Happy birthday!” you all chorus as he ushers you inside. 

Wonwoo and Mingyu shove presents into his arms while you stand behind them timidly. 

When it’s your turn, you step up and offer the envelope you’d stashed in your clutch. “I wasn’t sure what you’d like, so I hope cash is okay,” you tell Jihoon. 

Wonwoo had no idea you had even got him a card. You probably didn’t tell him because you knew he’d insist on adding your name to his gift instead.

“Please, you didn’t have to get me anything!” Jihoon gushes. 

“I wasn’t about to show up empty-handed!”

He smiles and lays the card on top of the other gifts in his hand. “Well, thank you. Please, make yourself at home! I’ve got to go put these with the others. There are drinks in the kitchen but I’m sure Wonwoo will make you one if you ask.”

He winks at Wonwoo as he walks off with his roommate, leaving the three of you alone once again- or the two of you. Mingyu had disappeared as well, without a word. Classic. 

“I think that went well,” you whisper to Wonwoo as he guides you through the apartment by the hand. 

“That’s an understatement. I don’t think I’ve ever seen Jihoon be that friendly to a stranger.”

“I must be special,” you muse jokingly.

“Another understatement,” Wonwoo agrees under his breath. 

-

Wonwoo clumsily mixes you both a drink in the kitchen, pouring shots of vodka into plastic cups along with Sprite and grenadine to match the theme. Mixology isn’t his strong suit, neither are most activities that involve food and/or drink preparation for that matter, but the dirty Shirleys are palatable at the very least so he counts it as a win. 

You sip yours appreciatively with a little grin that tells him you’re pleased and he has to push down the swell of pride in his chest that urges him to kiss you in the middle of the crowded room you’re standing in. 

With drinks in hand, he leads you back into the living room to start introducing you to more of his friends. 

You’re a hit with everyone, of course. Seungkwan falls in love with you instantly. The guys don’t indulge his yapping as much as they probably should so when he notices you’re hanging on to his every word, he takes advantage. He would have likely talked your ear off all night long if Wonwoo hadn’t whisked you away to meet some of the others. 

Seokmin, Junhui, and Vernon are in the middle of a game of beer pong when Wonwoo drags you over to them. It’s two against one- Seok and Jun versus Vernon and somehow Vernon is winning. You watch from the sidelines as they play. All three of them are too distracted by their match to hold a true conversation with you but Wonwoo can tell that they like you and are eager to impress you by winning the game. They even protest when Wonwoo tries to pull you away to meet more people. 

“That’s not fair, she has to see who wins!”

“Yeah, you can’t take her away now!”

“You sound like children,” Wonwoo chides. 

He concedes, though, and you stay until the game ends. Jun and Seokmin manage to pull off the win, jeering poor Vernon as he chugs the last cup of beer with his middle finger directed at the other two. 

It was all going so well, until Wonwoo presents you to Jeonghan and Chan. They’re standing in a corner away from the rest of the party, whispering in each other’s ears about God knows what. 

Wonwoo gets their attention by clearing his throat and stepping aside to reveal you. He’s so preoccupied with introducing everyone that he misses the way Jeonghan’s eyes flicker with recognition when they land on you. He also misses the same look in your eyes. 

Jeonghan addresses you directly, completely subverting Wonwoo and cutting off Chan who had opened his mouth to say hello to you. 

“I didn’t know you guys were together.”

“We’re not together,” you clarify quickly, driving a knife right in between Wonwoo’s ribs. 

It’s his fault. He’s the one who’s been too much of a pussy to ask you out officially. But did you have to answer so fast? And so confidently?

“Oh,” Jeonghan murmurs. 

He looks unsure of what to make of the two of you and he’s still only looking at you... wait-

“You... know each other?” Wonwoo asks as it finally clicks. 

“Yeah, we used to f-” Jeonghan stops mid-sentence, tilting his head in confusion. 

Wonwoo follows his gaze to you who had started furiously shaking your head and motioning for him to shut up. 

“Ahem, nevermind.”

Wonwoo suddenly remembers a conversation he had with Jeonghan several months ago. It was at a party a lot like this one. All of the guys were gathered around a fire pit catching up and Soonyoung bugged Jeonghan to spill about the girl he was seeing at the time. 

Jeonghan brushed it off as nothing serious but he did make sure to note that it was, “the best sex I’ve ever had,” which led to a bunch of jeering shouts from the rest of the boys, Wonwoo included. 

“If it’s that good, why don’t you want to be exclusive?” someone, he thinks Minghao, asked. 

Jeonghan shrugged. “Neither of us feel ready for that. She’s kind of hung up on an ex and I don’t have the time to commit.”

“Or the emotional capability,” another one called out.

“Shut the fuck up. Maybe it’ll go there one day but for now... it’s just for fun.”

The memory burns in the back of Wonwoo’s throat. He blinks the image of you underneath his friend away and clears his throat. He’s jumping to conclusions. Maybe he’s wrong. Maybe it hadn’t been you Jeonghan was talking about. Maybe the f-word he had been about to say was... “farm” or “frolic”?

“So how do you know each other?” his voice breaks as he asks the question but he barely notices. 

Jeonghan gives you a look as if to say, do you want to tell him or should I. You sigh and turn to face Wonwoo.

“We used to hook up,” you admit.

“Oh, cool.”

Cool? Cool? What kind of response was that? That’s not the kind of thing you say after finding out the girl you want to be your girlfriend used to bang one of your best friends. 

It shouldn’t be a big deal. He didn’t know you back then. It’s been months since. This sort of thing happens to people all the time. Right?

“Wonwoo, are you okay?” It’s Chan that snaps him out of his spiral this time. Wonwoo had honestly forgotten that he was standing there too. 

“Yeah, fine.”

No one is convinced. 

“Are you sure?” you ask him quietly. “Do you want to go talk about it somewhere more private?”

That’s the last thing Wonwoo wants to do right now. He knows he’ll have to confront this sooner or later but he’d rather it be later. Much later.

“I’m sure,” he assures you. ���It’s not a big deal.” 

You look relieved which comforts him at least a little bit but not nearly enough.

“Does anyone else want another drink?” Chan asks, breaking the silence again. 

No one does but he uses the excuse of getting himself one to dip from the conversation, leaving you, Jeonghan, and Wonwoo to simmer in awkward tension by yourselves. 

You’re the first to speak once he’s gone. “If you have any questions, you can ask us.”

Jeonghan flinches at the “us”  like he hadn’t been expecting you to volunteer his input, probably because he hadn’t been, but nods reluctantly, avoiding eye contact with Wonwoo. 

“I’ll let you know if I think of any,” Wonwoo mutters. 

In reality, he has a lot of questions. None of which he’s sure he wants to hear the answers to or ask in front of Jeonghan. 

“So uh, how have you been?” Jeonghan asks. 

“I’ve been good!” you tell him as you grab Wonwoo’s hand and squeeze it. “Really good.”

Jeonghan grins. “You look good.” 

It’s an innocuous comment but it causes Wonwoo’s heart rate to spike once again. 

“You both do,” Jeonghan amends when he notices his friend’s reaction. 

“So do you. Your hair’s gotten long.” 

“I’ve been growing it out. You like it?”

“I do, yeah. It suits you.”

“Thank you.” Jeonghan bites his lip as he says it, either to keep from laughing or smirking, and you smile in turn, which makes Wonwoo's eye twitch imperceptibly (he hopes).

Suddenly, Seungkwan appears from out of nowhere and Wonwoo's almost relieved until he opens his mouth.

"Mingyu's looking for you. He wants you to be his partner for pong."

"I'm a little busy," Wonwoo mutters. The last thing he wants to do is leave you alone with Jeonghan after what he had just learned.

"You know he's just going to keep bugging you until you give in," Seungkwan sighs.

"You should go play," you chime in encouragingly. "I'll be fine."  

Seungkwan takes Wonwoo by the arm and begins to drag him toward the other room. "The faster you win, the faster you can come back to her," he says.

It's supposed to make him feel better but it doesn't. He's famously terrible at games that involve coordination. It could be hours before he makes it back to you and that's IF Jeonghan hasn't charmed his way back into your pants by then. He turns his head to look back at you just before Seungkwan pulls him through the doorway just to see you laughing at something Jeonghan's said. He has half a mind to wrestle himself out of Seungkwan's grasp and march back over there to get in between the two of you but that wouldn't fit into his already very unconvincing "playing it cool" thing he's trying to pull off.

Fortunately, they win after just two rounds. He barely hugs Mingyu in celebration before he peels off to find you. You aren't in the same corner you had been when he left so he has to check a few more places before finally stumbling across you in the kitchen. Jeonghan's nowhere in sight, thankfully. Wonwoo doesn't care where he's fucked off to as long as it's not with you.

"There you are," Wonwoo says, getting your attention immediately.

"Got thirsty," you explain, showing him your empty cup. "Want one?"

"Only if it's as good as the one I made you earlier."

You scoff. "A high bar to clear."

"I believe in you."

He approaches you from behind as you mix the drinks, running his fingers along the small strip of your back your outfit left exposed. You shiver but neither of you comment on it, quiet until you hand Wonwoo his cup and offer yours to cheers with. You watch his expression as he lifts the cup to his lips.

"So?"

He doesn't want to admit yours is better than his even though the difference is obvious. It's another dirty Shirley but the one you made is smoother, evidently poured with a much lighter hand.

"It's okay," he bluffs.

You shove him lightly, enough to make him rock back on his heels. "Shut the fuck up."

"Or what?" he challenges.

"Or I'll tie you up. Again."

Wonwoo feels his throat get tight. “That was a one-time thing!”

“You keep saying that but you sure seemed to like it in the moment.”

You had him there. He did like it. He liked it a lot, in fact- maybe too much. Even thinking about it now, the way you straddled him, the way the rope bit into his wrists when he pulled against his restraints... his cheeks get hot before he can shake the thoughts from his mind. 

“You’re blushing,” you point out. “You did like it”

His shy smile falls as he abruptly wonders if you’ve ever done the same thing to Jeonghan. He pictures Jeonghan in his place, the memories replacing his body underneath you with that of his friend. He sees Jeonghan kissing you, chasing your lips when you pull away. He sees the sweat on his brow, the determined set of his jaw. 

All of the questions he didn’t want to confront earlier douse him like a bucket of ice water. Was Jeonghan a better lover? Would he be a better boyfriend? Who was big-

“Wonwoo, are you okay?” 

Your voice, the thing that usually brings Wonwoo back down to earth, isn’t what breaks the spell this time. It’s the expression on your face when he looks down at you.

“Not really,” he admits. 

You lay a hand over his. “Do you want to get out of here? We can leave.”

“In a bit. Follow me.”

He leads you back through the house, up the stairs to where he knows no one else will be. He briefly considers pulling you into one of the bedrooms but thinks better of it, knowing neither of his friends would appreciate what he plans to do to you happening on their beds. 

There’s a bathroom across the hall from the bedrooms that he chooses instead, holding the door open to let you in first. 

The gentlemanly gesture is immediately canceled out as soon as the door shuts, though, as he pushes your back up against it and starts to kiss you. 

You reciprocate, thankfully. Your lips part almost immediately to let his tongue explore your mouth. He feels the tug of your hands clutching his jacket, pulling him in closer. He lets you, pressing his body to yours so you can feel exactly what you do to him. 

He’s the first to break the kiss but he only does so that he can move down to your neck. You tilt your head to give him better access, moaning under your breath when he begins to suck on a spot just below your jaw.  

"W-where's this coming from?" you ask, breathless.

"I've wanted you all night," Wonwoo explains, brushing it off. It’s not a lie, but it isn’t the full truth either and he suspects you know that. Still, he wishes you would just let it go and lose yourself in him the way he was trying to in you. 

“I’ve just... never seen you like this,” you say. 

“Like what?” 

“So desperate.”

Wonwoo stops. He lifts his head to finally make eye contact with you, detaching himself from your person. You look like you want to protest but you don’t. You let him go, watching as  he takes a step back and considers what you’ve said. You cross your arms over your chest, closing yourself off to him. 

“It’s Jeonghan, isn’t it?” He sighs, which is all the confirmation you need. "Shouldn't we talk about it?"

“What is there to talk about?”

“You tell me. It obviously bothers you.”

The words escape him for what feels like the thousandth time. The shame that he had been pushing down all night creeps up the back of his neck like fire chasing a trail of gasoline, burning hot, the smoke filling his lungs and threatening to suffocate him. 

How does he articulate it? How does he tell you he’s afraid that given the choice, you’d pick Jeonghan over him? That he’s sure Jeonghan would be able to give you what he might not be able to? He’s never had to confront feelings like these. He rarely forces himself to confront feelings of any kind. It’s why he’s never had a girlfriend for longer than a few months, why he tried so hard not to get attached. 

When he doesn’t respond, you fill in the blanks for him. “What, is it that your friend had me first? Are you humiliated to be with someone’s sloppy seconds?”

Wonwoo’s shocked that that’s the conclusion you would come to. “No! No, absolutely not. You’re not- don’t talk about yourself that way.”

“Then what is it?”

“It’s me.” You roll your eyes. “I’m serious! It’s... fuck, I’m not good at this. It shouldn’t bother me. I know it shouldn’t. It was before we met and you didn’t know we knew each other, and even now we’re not technically- I mean, I want to be but I’ve been too much of a pussy-”

“Wonwoo.”

“Sorry.” He takes a deep breath in an attempt to steel himself before trying again. “Let me start over. It bothers me but not for the reason you think. I can’t stop worrying that he’s better than me.” 

“Better than you? At what, sex?”

“At all of it. If he was better in bed, if he’d be a better boyfriend... I know it isn’t healthy to compare myself to another guy, especially to someone who’s my friend, but I like you so much. I want you to be happy and I want what’s best for you and I want that to be me. I’m just afraid that it won’t be.”

He’s able to breathe a little easier when your gaze softens and your arms fall back to your sides. “Why don’t you let me make that decision for myself?”

“I- of course. It's totally up to you I just meant-” He shuts up when you take a step towards him. 

“You know, you were a lot cockier when we first met. I don’t think I’ve ever seen you this nervous. Hannie really shook you up, huh?”

You’re teasing him. Throwing in Jeonghan’s nickname like that, you want to get under his skin.  

Wonwoo narrows his eyes at you. “You’re such a fucking brat.”

“It’s one of the things you like about me. One of the reasons you want me to be your girlfriend.”

“Come here.” 

He grabs your arm before you can duck away, using his strength to overpower you and trap you in between himself and the sink. 

“Is that what you want?” he asks.

“What?”

“To be my girlfriend.”

“Are you asking?”

There is no hesitation this time. “Yes.”

It’s not the most romantic proposition, but he figures it’s fitting for the two of you. He’s already been more vulnerable with you in the last ten minutes than he has with anyone in years. It’s progress.

You smile and wrap your arms around his neck. “Then yes.”

The desperation comes back full force when he kisses you. It’s different this time, though. All-consuming. He didn’t think he would get this far and now that he has, he feels like he has something to prove. 

He runs his hands up the backs of your thighs until they reach your ass. His eyebrows raise in surprise as he looks at you.

“No panties?”

“It’s a thong,” you laugh. 

“Ah.”

His fingers find the waistband and snap it against your skin, making you flinch. 

“I had to, ah, wear them because this skirt is so goddamn tight.”

Wonwoo doesn’t really get what that means but he nods like he does, moving his hand from your hip to in between your legs. 

“Seems like someone else is pretty needy too,” he muses as he coats his fingers in your arousal and starts to play with your clit. “Have you also been thinking about this all night?” 

You bite your lip. “Maybe.”

“Maybe? I need more than that, baby.”

You groan in annoyance. “Yes, I’ve been thinking about it.”

“For how long?”

“S-since I got to your apartment.”

“Atta girl,” he praises, rewarding you by pushing one of his fingers inside of you. 

“I like your friends. They’re all really nice, but I’ve been wanting to go home so we could fuck pretty much this whole time.” 

“Should’ve said something, pretty girl. We could’ve come up here a lot sooner.”

You look shy all of the sudden. “Well, I wasn’t thinking about doing it here.”

“It turns you on, though, doesn’t it? Knowing we could get caught?” he adds another finger as he presses you for an answer, causing a whimper to slip from your lips as you nod. 

“Is that why you brought me up here?” you challenge shakily. “So that he might hear us?”

It’s like a slap in the face, but less hot. And it stings even more because you’re right. 

He slides his fingers out of you without warning, pointedly ignoring the pout you try to guilt him with. 

“Open.”

“What?”

“Open your mouth. You’re going to clean my fingers off for me.”

You do as you’re told and suck his fingers clean, moaning around them at the taste of yourself for good measure. 

“There we go. Good girl. Might as well make that mouth of yours useful if you’re going to insist on being bratty.” You roll your eyes at him and try to protest. “Aht-aht, don’t talk with your mouth full.”

He relents with a smirk when you push your teeth into his fingertips, threatening to bite him. 

“You’re lucky it turns me on when you’re a dick.”

“Trust me, I know. Now turn around.”

Wonwoo works on unbuckling his belt while you bend over the sink and brace yourself against the counter. He’s so focused on getting inside of you that he almost forgets the most important part.

“Shit, I don’t have a condom.”

“I don’t care.”

He meets your gaze in the reflection of the mirror. “Are you sure?” 

“Yeah, I’ve been on the pill for forever now. I just liked the extra precaution.”

“Jihoon probably has some around somewhere if you want to-”

“Wonwoo?”

“What?”

“I want you to fuck me without one.”

He blinks a couple of times, half-wondering if this was a dream. “Are you serious?”

“I’m serious. Do you not want to?”

“Of course I want to,” he assures you. “But we’ve never done that before.”

You’re the one smirking now. “I mean, you’re my boyfriend, aren’t you? My boyfriend can fuck me raw whenever he wants to.”

“Fuck.” His cock twitches against his thigh. “Are you trying to make me fall in love with you?”

“You mean you aren’t already?” you tease. 

Instead of answering, Wonwoo gets his hands back on you, pushing your skirt up to expose your ass. He pulls your thong to the side and spreads you apart, groaning at the sight of you. 

You make a similar noise when he spits into his palm and starts to stroke himself. He’s tempted to tease you back, to make you watch him jerk off while he knows you’re aching for it, but he’s dying for it too and he doesn’t have the patience to make either of you wait any longer. 

Your breath hitches at the feeling of his cock pressing into you, just the tip at first. You whine and try to push yourself further onto him but he holds you in place, giving you one inch at a time until there’s no more to give and you’re connected at the hips. You both sigh in relief at the feeling, though the moment doesn’t last for long. 

You make eye contact with Wonwoo in the mirror, pleading silently for him to move. He does, pulling out slowly before rocking back into you, cursing under his breath at the way you’re squeezing him. 

“How are you always so fucking tight?” he grunts. “Doesn’t matter what I do to you, how many times I make you cum before I fuck you...” he trails off, losing the ability to complete the thought as he loses himself in you. 

“It’s because you’re so fucking big,” you gasp. 

“Oh, is that right?” 

The little voice in the back of Wonwoo’s mind urges him to ask if he’s the biggest you’ve ever had, but he resists it. It would defeat the purpose of the conversation you’d literally just had-- even if he is dying to know if his dick is bigger than Jeonghan’s-- so he decides to taunt you instead. 

“But you like it like that, don’t you? Can’t get off unless you’re being split in half. Isn’t that right?”

Your mouth falls open, either in shock or in pleasure. There’s no way to tell which. 

“That’s not t-true” you argue.

He clicks his tongue, calling your bluff. “It’s nothing to be ashamed of, baby. It’s okay to be a size queen when your boyfriend’s got a big dick.”

The word feels foreign on his tongue but he likes the way it sounds. He likes the sound of being anything as long as he's yours. 

Subconsciously, his grip on you gets a little more possessive. He holds you tighter, closer. He shortens his thrusts, not pulling out as far so he can keep his body against yours. You feel so warm around him, even warmer without a condom in between you.  

He’s never done this with anyone before, never wanted it with anyone until you. Of course, he had always heard that fucking someone raw felt a thousand times better than it did with protection but it was just never worth taking the risk to him. 

Risk is the last thing on Wonwoo’s mind now. The only thing he can think about is how good, how right it feels to have you like this. 

“Baby? You still with me?” he asks, slowing down enough for you to respond. 

“Mhm.”

“Feels good?”

“So good.”

“Are you getting close?”

You nod, moaning a little too loud when you open your mouth to try and answer. Your eyes widen in surprise and you clap a hand over your mouth to try and stifle it but it’s too late. 

“It’s okay, I’m sure no one heard.” 

Secretly, Wonwoo hopes they did. He knows you don’t actually want to get caught, though, so he offers to help in the best way he knows how. 

“Take a deep breath, baby.”

The way your eyes roll back when Wonwoo’s hand closes around your throat is almost enough to send him over the edge. He has to bite his lip and pray to whoever’s listening as you cum hard around him, weakly fucking you through it while he hangs on by a thread.

He can barely think, let alone speak. The words are choked out, shaky and barely coherent. “Fuck, I’m- where do you want me to-”

“Inside,” you plead. “Cum inside me.”

God, he’s going to lose it. “Are you sure?”

“Are you going to make me beg?”

He wants to jab back, joke that you don’t have to beg even though you always sound so pretty when you do, but he’s too busy filling you with cum to grant you any kind of response. There’s so much, way more than he anticipated. 

“Shit, I’m sorry.”

“What, why?”

He gives you a sheepish look. “It’s going to make a mess.”

You shake your head at him. “That’s what your tongue is for, silly.” Of course. Wonwoo is lucky to be dating such a smart woman. “You clean me up, I clean you up?”

He grins. “Deal.”

He pulls out and sinks to his knees on the tile in front of you, cock still out and still hard, dripping with the both of you. His hands travel gently up the backs of your legs until he reaches your thighs. He taps your right one, signalling you to lift it and hoist it over his shoulder. Then when you do, he looks up at you expectantly. 

You cock your head to the side in confusion. “What?”

“So... after this, my place or yours?”

[soaps-mohawk]

Cherry Red, Crimson Blood

Chapter 36: To The Sea

Summary: It's time to move on. You're not sure where you're going exactly, but anywhere is better than Texas

Pairing: Poly 141 x reader

Word Count: 7,811 words

Warnings: ANGST, injuries, medical stuff, descriptions of pain and injuries, brief discussion about strangulation, mentions of PTSD and nightmares, so much crying, Alpha/Beta/Omega dynamics, Alternate Universe, angst, a very little sprinkle of comfort, language, mentions of medications, still very heavy emotionally

A/N: Not actually a lot of warnings for this one. It's a lot of dialogue and inner monologues. Not a lot happens, just mostly setting the scene for the next chunk of the story. Bring tissues though, the last part of the chapter emotionally wrecked me but also might be the best thing I've ever written.

11/30/24: **This Chapter has been edited and rewritten from its original version**

MASTERLIST | <- Previous | Next ->

It’s warm outside. 

Not even the shade from the building can completely shield you from the dome of heat that seems to surround the base. It seeps into the concrete and asphalt that lock it into place, trapping everyone in a bubble that may as well be an oven. It’s always hot in Texas, though. You hate it. You’ve been spoiled by the cold, rainy seasons in England. You’d gladly take that over Texas. 

You’d take anything over Texas. 

The heat prickles at your skin, your arm starting to get sweaty in the sling. It had been Dr. Keller’s idea to keep your shoulder as still as possible so you don’t continue to cause yourself pain when you move. It still hurts, but at least you won’t instinctively try to use your left arm now.

Despite the warmth, there’s still a chill deep in your bones. The warmth of the pain medicine has worn off and you’ve been left with the perpetual ice that has seemed to coat your insides. Dr. Keller says it's the stress giving you a fever. Every nightmare, every flashback sends your body temperature spiking, your heart beating right out of your chest. You’re not out of the woods yet. It can take a long time to recover from that level of distress and the omega taking over. You almost regret it, but there was no guarantee you would have lived either way at that time. You did what you had to do, and it did work out in the end. 

But at what cost? 

Dr. Keller’s phone buzzes in her pocket and she pulls it out, staring down at the screen for a moment. “Kyle wants to come by.” 

You don’t want to see him. You don’t want to see any of them. 

“I think you should see him. Even if it’s just for a moment.” She squeezes your hand. “I’ll be right here.” 

It’s a predicament. Dr. Keller supports your decision to keep them away, putting some distance between all of you for the time being. Yet, she also says being close to your pack will help your healing. Having your pack around will help your omega settle once again. She needs that safety, that security before she finally lets go completely. 

You don’t want to be close to them, but you may not have any other choice. 

You sit there in silence, picking at the fabric of your sweatpants as you wait for Kyle’s arrival. Sweat has started to bead on your back, the day only getting warmer and warmer as the sun moves higher in the sky. You want to go back inside, back into the cool air conditioned building. You want to crawl back onto the hospital bed and lay there for the next few hours. 

You can’t. 

Footsteps approach, but you don’t look up. You know who it is. You don’t want to see him. 

“Kyle.” Dr. Keller greets. 

“Christine.” He says back. It still throws you off, hearing Dr. Keller's first name. She'll always be Dr. Keller to you. Kyle turns his attention to you, still standing a few steps from the bench you're perched on. “Hi, love.” He says. The affectionate nickname almost makes you wince. You don't look up at him. You don’t want to see his face. “I wanted to stop by and see how you’re doing.” 

You don't move, don't give an answer. You don't have an answer to give anyway. You shouldn't have to give an answer. 

He lowers himself onto the bench, sitting as far away from you as he can. “It’s hot today.” He says, adjusting his hat. Always wearing a hat. Maybe that's why he and Price work so well together. 

He stares at you for a long moment but you don't bother moving, your gaze still on your sweatpants. They're starting to get a bit warm, even with your perpetual chill. 

“I’m not here to apologize.” He says, breaking the silence. “You’ve probably heard enough apologies to last you a lifetime.” He shakes his head. “Words can’t fix what we did. Nothing can fix what we did. All we can do is give you what you need, try and make you as comfortable as possible.” 

Tears burn your eyes as you listen to him. He's not wrong, an apology won't fix what happened. No words will ever be able to fix what they put you through. You're not sure there's anything they could do that would make up for it. An apology still would have been nice, despite the fact you know how guilty he is. Their avoidance of you, their willingness to give you such space in an unknown place just proves how guilty they all are. 

That doesn't make things hurt any less. 

You slowly turn away from Kyle, angling yourself towards Dr. Keller. 

He doesn't say anything further in that regard, taking your movement as an answer to his non-apology. He leans forward instead, resting his elbows on his knees. “I just wanted to let you know that we’re getting ready to leave soon. We’ll be heading somewhere safe, somewhere quiet and secluded. I think you’ll like it.” 

Dr. Keller had informed you of that earlier after she went to speak to them. They've decided what to do, what's best for the pack again. You might have protested, except for the fact it meant you were getting to leave Texas. Where exactly they're taking you, you're not sure. You just know it's not Texas. 

“I want you to know that we’re here if you need us.” He stares at you for a moment longer before pushing himself up to stand. 

If, not when. 

Maybe they're finally getting the message. 

Dr. Keller stands, touching your right shoulder gently before she steps away with Kyle, speaking quietly with him, but you can still hear every word in the nearly silent space around you. 

“In an attempt to remain a neutral, professional party in this situation, I feel it would be appropriate for me to tell you not to beat yourself up too much about this.” Dr. Keller says. “The unprofessional side of me has many words I’d like to say to all of you.” She clears her throat. “That being said, on a positive note I can say you’re all doing the right thing for once, prioritizing your omega and fulfilling her needs, even if her needs require you to leave her alone for now. I know it’s hard, I know every instinct is screaming at you to help her, but just take comfort in knowing you are helping her. You’re doing the best thing you can do for her at this time.” Dr. Keller puts a hand on his arm, squeezing it gently. “Even if it is tearing you up inside.” 

“Thanks, Doc.” He says. 

“I’ll see you soon.” She says, patting his arm before she heads back towards your bench. 

You turn your head just slightly, not missing the way Gaz lingers for a brief moment before he turns his back on you, walking back down the sidewalk. 

It hurts. 

You want to cry with every swallow. No matter how much you chew, it doesn’t ease the pain of trying to swallow solid food. Even the worst sore throat you’ve ever had pales in comparison to this pain. Tears burn in your eyes as you eat, unable to refuse this time in favor of choking down some liquid nutrients. Even liquids make your throat ache, but they are easy to chug to get it over with at once. 

This feels like torture. 

Dr. Keller looks guilty as she spoon-feeds you the soup. Chicken noodle, something simple and easy but still something with some substance. It makes you think back to when you were sick as a child, your mother dutifully feeding you homemade chicken noodle soup until you reached the age you could feed yourself. 

You do feel like a child again, unable to even hold the spoon. Well, you could hold it, but it would have come at the expense of some burns from how badly your hand was shaking. 

So instead you sit here, being spoon-fed soup you can barely stand eating. 

“I know.” She says as a tear finally falls, your inhale shaky from the ache in your throat. “You need something in your system for the sedative. It’s a long flight and you’ll be sick when you wake up if you don’t have anything in your stomach. That’s going to hurt a lot worse than eating now.” 

Yeah. You’ve already figured that out. 

“Strangulation is a tough thing to survive.” She says, dragging the bottom of the spoon against the edge of the bowl to wipe off any soup that might drip on you. “Then again, so is getting shot, and distressing to the point of your omega taking over.” She holds the spoon up to your lips, and you’re tempted to refuse. “You’ve survived a lot, more than most could. And to look this good after...” 

You blink up at her, teary eyed and sickly looking, exhausted and bruised. Your left eye is still almost swollen shut, and your hair is tangled perhaps beyond saving, tied up in a bun at the top of your head. All just reminders of what you survived, all reminders of what happened to you. Of what was allowed to happen to you. 

You’re not quite sure when the last time you had a real shower was either. 

“I know.” She says, spooning more soup into your mouth. “You might not feel like it, right now.” 

“I want a shower.” You say, your voice still hoarse and cracking through your throat. A real shower might solve a lot of problems for you right now. It won’t fix much, but being truly clean would make a lot of things feel better. 

“I wholeheartedly agree.” Dr. Keller says. 

You give her a look. You don't smell that bad. She should know, she’s the one that cleaned the blood off of you and the one who gave you the sponge bath this morning. 

She gives you a look back. “I meant it would be nice to take a real shower. Once we get where we’re going, we can work on the logistics of a shower.” 

Right. You can’t exactly stand for a long time on your own, not to mention the problem of only being able to use one arm without bringing blinding pain upon yourself. That’s where the pack would come in handy. 

The thought of one of them seeing you vulnerable like that, putting their hands on you right now makes your skin crawl. 

A shiver runs down your spine, your body shuddering uncontrollably. You grunt as your shoulder screams in pain, another electric jolt burning straight through your nerves and down through your feet. Fuck. You mouth the word, squeezing your eyes shut. It makes your stomach churn, the soup starting to burn a path back up through your esophagus.

“Breathe for me.” Dr. Keller says, putting a gentle hand on your right shoulder. 

In and out. You focus on your breath, the only thing you can do without feeling like you’re going to go insane from the pain. It’s all you can do in this situation. It’s the only thing you can do at all. Breathe. Just keep breathing. 

Sometimes you don’t want to. 

The pain passes as it always does, leaving behind a subtle ache that will linger until the next flare of pain. It’s a constant, never-ending cycle that you can’t escape from. Weeks, Dr. Keller had said. It can take weeks to heal. You’ll be stuck in this cycle for weeks and weeks. What if it never heals? That is a possibility. It’s always a risk with any injury. 

What if the rest of your life is like this? 

You’re crying again, hot tears blazing a path down your cheeks. They won’t stop, they never stop. There’s a constant stream down your face, even in your sleep. You’ve woken to find your face and neck damp from the never ceasing flood of tears. 

How you can’t wait for the time to come when you have none left.

You’d welcome the numbness at this point, greet it like an old friend and invite it in for tea. Anything over the pain and tears that won’t stop. The depression-fueled numbness that had filled you when Price and Gaz left, then Soap and Ghost would be a welcome relief at this point. Anything would be better than the pain. 

You almost wish you were in a coma right now. Then you wouldn’t feel anything at all. 

Dr. Keller puts the spoon back into the soup bowl before rolling the table to the side. She puts a hand on your head, gently stroking your hair as you cry. The room is silent aside from your sniffles, Dr. Keller not having to say a single word. The silence is almost a blessing. You’re tired of hearing words, of hearing people speak. There’s nothing anyone can say that will do anything to help you, to comfort you, to make it better. 

There’s nothing anyone can do to make it better. 

You’re so tired of being like this. 

The sedative is kicking in before you even reach the airfield. She can see the way your head is drooping further and further forward in the car, your body jostling without any complaint. It had started kicking in before you even got into the car, as you offered very little resistance when Kyle helped her mauver you into the front seat. She chose Kyle out of everyone to help her in hopes it would be easiest on you. Your claimed alpha’s beta is a good place to start in rebuilding the bonds within the pack, and his calm demeanor certainly helps. He is a caretaker through and through, that beta trait prominent above the others in him. He would have made a good medic, had he gone that route. 

Your chin drops to your chest as the car comes to a stop in front of the plane, your body slumping to the side against the door. 

“She’s out.” Christine says, unbuckling her seatbelt. 

“Makes this easier.” Kyle says, getting out of the car. 

They maneuver you into the wheelchair, Christine easing your head onto your right shoulder to avoid aggravating the left. The less pain you’re in when you come out of it, the better, though pain will be unavoidable. Kyle pushes the wheelchair up the ramp of the plane, Christine following close behind. She’s glad she gave you the sedative before you left the med center to avoid as much pain as possible. She almost wishes she had given it to you earlier, as getting you into a sweatshirt had been a battle of its own. Though, the longer it stays in your system, the longer you’ll sleep through the flight. The longer you sleep through the flight, the longer they can delay the inevitable emotional storm of being enclosed in a tight space with your pack. 

If you’re lucky, you’ll be out of it long enough for them to reach the cottage without incident. 

John is waiting near the front of the aircraft, his eyes watching carefully as Kyle helps maneuver you into a seat. Even with the turmoil in the pack bonds, an alpha will always feel protective over their omega. There’s some things that can’t be undone, even in such a fragile state. Some instincts can’t be unlearned, no matter what. 

“I gave her a sedative.” Christine explains as she gets you as comfortable as possible in the seat. “It won’t last the whole flight, but it’ll take a while to wear off regardless.” 

“Is that more for her or for us?” John asks. 

“Both.” Christine says. “Mostly for her. It helps with the pain of moving around, but it will also keep her calm in close quarters like this.” 

“Here.” John says, handing her something. It’s a blanket, brand new by the feel of it. “Johnny made a store run this morning. It’s going to get cold in here, so he got the warmest one he could find.” 

Christine takes the blanket, the fabric thick and soft in her hands. It’s a touching gesture, speaking volumes of their desire to still care for you despite everything, their willingness to do what they have to, to keep the pack together. “Perfect.” She says, carefully draping it over you and tucking it around you before John gets you secured in the seat. 

“It’s going to be a long flight.” John says, taking a step back. 

“It is.” Christine says, pulling out her thermometer. She takes your temperature, letting out a hum at the number that pops up on screen. “I need to monitor her temperature.” She explains as John gives her a look. “It’s been spiking when she gets stressed.” 

“She's not quite out of it yet, is she?” John asks.

“Not quite.” She says, putting the thermometer back in her bag. “I’ve only seen two omegas successfully come back from that point, and I know the number across the board isn’t very high. It takes a long time for the body and the brain to get back to normal.” 

“And on top of everything that happened...” 

She stares up at him for a long moment. “She’s very strong. I knew she was a fighter, but to come out the other side even where she is now...” Christine shakes her head. “I didn’t want to say this at the time, but I was expecting the worst. When that call came in about what state she was in...” She bites her lip, holding the emotions back. “Her resilience and fortitude is what kept her alive. That and Simon’s courage to do what needed to be done.” 

“I know.” John says, looking past her. “We all owe a lot to him.” 

Christine puts a gentle hand on his arm. “You’re doing what’s best for her. No matter how much it hurts, no matter how much it goes against every instinct you have, it’s what she needs.” 

“That’s all that matters to us right now.” John says, staring down at her hand for a moment. “There’s nothing else we can do, so it’s time we start putting our priorities where they should have been the whole time.” 

Christine gives him a small smile. “I’m proud of you for that. It takes a lot to unlearn the things you’ve been told since the beginning.” 

The corner of John’s lips twitch before his face falls into the emotionless mask he’s been wearing for the last few days. “It’s about time we get our heads out of our arses.” 

“I can’t blame you totally.” She shrugs. “We were all just doing what the initiative was telling us to do. We couldn’t have known. There wasn’t any room to question it.” 

“I wish we would have figured it out sooner.” He sighs. 

“Things might have been worse if the truth did come out sooner. If you started digging into the initiative too soon, Shepherd might have gotten antsy and taken more drastic measures to stop the truth from coming out entirely.” She glances down at you. “I think this was all inevitable.” She turns her gaze back to John. “What happened, happened. None of us can change that. All we can do is keep moving forward with what we have right now.” 

He stares at her for a long moment. “The more time passes, the more I’ve come to realize why Kate chose you for this position.” 

The corner of her lips turns up in a smile. “Well, I am rather good at my job, which, among other things, involves advocating on behalf of omegas.” 

John huffs. “Wish we would have listened sooner.” 

“You can’t change the past.” She repeats, looking down at you again. “But you can change the future.” 

You woke from your sedation about four hours from Helston. 

Well, ’woke’ might have been too strong of a word for it. Your eyes opened, but you were still hazy, movements sluggish and entirely unaware of the world around you. You floated between sleep and awareness for an hour before finally gaining consciousness completely. Awareness took quite a while to return, though. Not until they were moving you to the car from the plane. 

Even still you’re groggy, slumped against the door in the back seat of the car. You blink slowly, eyes unfocused as you stare out the window at the blur of green passing by. 

“How is she?” John asks from the driver's seat, glancing up at the rearview mirror. 

“Cow.” You say, blinking slowly as the car passes a field of cows. 

“Still out of it.” Christine answers from the back seat where she's sitting next to you. Your response might have been enough to answer that. “Better than being in pain, though.” 

“How long will it take for her to get out of it?” Kyle asks. 

“Hopefully she’ll be more lucid by the time we get there, but it could take a few hours for it to completely wear off.” Christine says, wiping a bit of drool from your chin. “Probably not a bad thing. This is a big change, and with everything that’s happened, it’s going to take some time to settle in.” 

“Things are going to be rough.” Kyle says. 

“Yes.” She agrees. “Being enclosed in a small space with the people you want to see the least in the world isn’t an ideal situation. It’ll be an adjustment for everyone. I trust all of your abilities to adapt, though. Just don't go in expecting things to be the way they were.”

John's hands tighten around the steering wheel, his knuckles going white. Kyle cracks his window open, prepared for the thickening of John's scent in the air. Christine knows she hit a nerve, but it needed to be said. Even if you were open to forgiveness right now, even if they had chosen to go after you right away, things still wouldn't be the same. Things won't ever be the same. It is their fault deep at the root of it. Those cameras were put up because of them, you were taken because of them. You were chosen for the “initiative” because of them, because Kate thought you'd fit in well with them. Their decisions shaped your life, and will continue to shape your life. 

Can you ever come to forgive them? Christine likes to think so. She has the hope that they can put in the work and regain your trust and earn eventual forgiveness. She knows you'll allow them to try once the initial hurt and emotions begin to fade, once the two of you put in enough work to start processing the trauma around the events that happened. It will take time. Probably a long time. 

She'll be there every step of the way. 

“Ashley did some shopping for us, picked up some stuff to get us until we can get into town.” Kyle says, looking at his phone. 

“Good.” John says, his shoulders starting to relax. “Should wait a couple days before going. Get settled in.”

“She's still working on cleaning up. Probably still be there when we get there.” Kyle says, putting his phone back in his pocket. 

“That's fine. We’ll probably have to utilize her a bit.” 

“Doubt she'll complain.” Kyle says, looking out the window. “Be thrilled to have something to do besides work.” 

You let out a quiet groan, shifting against the door. “Hurts.” 

“I know, honey.” Christine says, carefully adjusting your left arm. “I’ll give you more pain meds once we get to the cottage.” 

“We’ll be there in half an hour.” John says, glancing up at the rearview mirror again before turning his eyes back to the road. 

The half hour seems to take the longest as you continue to become more and more lucid and aware. The pain sets in first, your brain picking up on those signals before anything else. John’s knuckles are white around the steering wheel as you begin to whine and whimper around every bend in the road and turn he has to make, every jostle of the car. Every instinct in his body tells him to pull over and comfort you, but he can’t. It’s more important to get to the cottage, and there’s no guarantee you’d even let him. It might make things worse. 

The last thing you need right now is for things to get worse. 

Christine breathes a sigh of relief as they pull up to the cottage, glad she can finally get you somewhere more comfortable. You’ve been in far too many uncomfortable positions today, moved around too much. She would have liked to keep you in Texas a couple more days, but she knew as soon as you were able to travel, the better. The sooner they could get off the grid, the better. 

The sooner they could get out of Texas, the better. 

Kyle is getting the wheelchair out of the trunk when Johnny and Simon pull up, not having been far behind. They likely took a turn around the back roads to ensure no one was following and to keep things from looking too suspicious. 

Christine keeps you from slumping out of the car as she carefully opens the door on your side. You’re more awake than you were, blinking up at her with almost startlingly aware eyes.

“Crutch.” You pout when she pulls the wheelchair closer. 

She gives you a look. “Honey I'm not sure you could even stand right now.” You may be more aware, but that doesn’t mean your body is working as it should.

You let out a defiant noise as you attempt to get your legs out of the car, trying to hide your grunts of pain and discomfort. 

She's tempted to stand there and let you try, but she knows all hell will break loose if she lets you fall. She's not willing to take that risk, not to mention it will cause you more pain to get you up off the ground. 

“Come on,” She says, stopping you before you can get your feet under you. “Nice and slow.” 

You let out a quiet growl of indignation but you allow her to help you, your legs trembling as she eases you up. Kyle is there with the wheelchair, getting it as close to you as possible so she can sit you down quickly. 

“Ow.” You breathe, eyes pinched closed as you breathe through the pain. 

“I know.” She says, patting your good shoulder lightly. She's glad she put you in the sweatshirt before you left Texas. It's chilly outside, chillier than it was further inland a few days ago. 

It's hard to believe it's only been a few days since you were taken. Barely even a week. So much happened in such a short period of time. It feels like it’s been weeks since everything started, but then again, it had been weeks since John and Kyle first left. It had been weeks since you had been around your whole pack together by the time you were taken. The deep depression you sunk into before the events of the last week had been draining you slowly for weeks before this. It had started before John and Kyle were deployed, back to that day when you revealed the cameras and the secret you had been hiding from them. 

How long you’ve gone in such turmoil. 

How far you still have to go. 

The path up to the door is rocky and uneven, the wheelchair jostling as she pushes it up towards the door. She can picture your face, the way it has to be screwed up in pain. You're silent though, holding it all in. She almost wishes you weren't being silent about it. 

The door is already open, light shining from inside as she approaches. Kyle is in the house already, having gone ahead to greet his sister. John is right behind the two of you as Christine turns to wheel you up the steps into the house. His eyes are on you, focused and ready should you fall.  

Christine would never let you fall, and from the way your hand is gripping the arm of the chair for dear life, you probably couldn't anyway. 

She wheels you through the entryway, the inside warmer thanks to a fire that's burning. It's a nice cottage, far nicer than she had been expecting judging from the outside. 

Johnny lets out a low whistle as he enters behind John, looking around. “Yer parents own this?” 

“It was given to our mum by our grandparents. They did some...renovations before they passed it on.” Kyle says. 

“Yer tellin’ me.” Johnny says. 

It looks new inside. New wood floors, freshly painted walls. The furniture looks like she would expect to find in an English seaside cottage, though. Kyle’s parents went to France for summer vacation instead of utilizing the cottage, and none of his siblings had wanted to use it, he told them. It looks almost perfect, like it came right out of a home renovation show. Kyle’s sister must have worked some sort of magic to get it this clean. 

It is a very nice cottage. It’s small, the door opening right to the main area. There’s two couches and a chair in the middle of the room around a coffee table. To the left of the couches is a fireplace, the fire already lit and crackling. It looks original, likely having been untouched in the renovations. There’s a door to the left of the fireplace closer to the main entryway. A bedroom maybe? To the right of the front door are two doors, one on the far wall and one facing the front door. 

The stairs are in the middle of the house, leading up to the second floor where there’s likely more bedrooms. On the far side of the main area is the dining area and beyond that is a sliding glass door. Around the corner on the far side of the stairs is likely the kitchen. She can see the fridge from where she’s standing. It’s new. Very new. Makes her wonder just how long ago it had been renovated. 

“Everyone, this is my sister Ashley.” Kyle says, introducing the other woman in the room. 

“Hello,” she says, giving everyone a wave and a dazzling smile. 

She’s dressed simply in jeans and a t-shirt, her medium box braids pulled up into a bun on top of her head. They look a lot alike, her and Kyle. Tall and slender and stunning. They have the same smile and the same soft brown eyes. She's wearing scent blockers, but Christine can imagine her having a soft scent like lavender or something fresh like mint. 

“There's two rooms down here, and two upstairs.” Kyle says. “The main bedroom is through there.” He points towards a door to their left. “I figure we'll give that to our omega. The bathroom in there has a walk-in shower.” 

“Perfect.” Christine says. That will make getting you in and out of the shower easier at least, and you won’t have to go far to use the bathroom.

“You should take the other room down here.” John says, looking at Christine. “So you can be close in case of an emergency.”

And so you don't have to be too close to them, so you won’t feel like they’re hovering.

He doesn't have to say that part out loud. 

“I put new sheets on all the beds.” Ashley says. “I also picked up everything Kyle sent on the list. Food, some clothes, some other necessities.”

You let out a quiet groan, Christine patting your head gently. You have to be exhausted and sore after the day. She should give you another dose of pain medicine like she said she would. You’re going to need it tonight. 

“Let's get you laying down for a bit.” She says, wheeling you towards the door. 

Kyle opens it for her, revealing a spacious room with a big window looking out towards the sea. You're going to spend a lot of time in front of that window, she thinks. The bed is in the middle of the room, and there’s two chairs facing the window. She’s almost tempted to sit you in one of the chairs, but laying down will be more comfortable for you right now. 

You're still too out of it now to care much as she wheels you to the double bed. With Kyle's help they get you horizontal, Christine draping the blanket at the end of the bed over you. It’s not very soft, but it will do for now. She’ll have to get the guys to pick up some soft blankets for you when they go to town. She has a whole list of things starting in her head she needs them to pick up.

She leans your crutch against the end of the bed just in case you might need it for an emergency. She hopes you’ll yell first, but you always have been stubborn. Being mostly bed-bound has only made that worse. 

“I’m going to go look through the things Ashley picked up.” She says, patting your leg gently. “Get some rest.” 

Christine leaves the door open a crack as she exits, wanting to give you a little privacy as you nap, or at least she hopes you’ll nap. It’s going to be a rough adjustment, and you’re going to need as much rest as you can get. 

“I’m assuming you’re Christine.” Ashley says, walking up to her. 

“I am.” She says, giving Ashley a smile. 

She can’t help but get lost in Ashley’s soft gaze for a moment. The Garrick siblings seem to share the same magnetic energy. There’s something almost ethereal about them. She could easily imagine them with glowing halos and angel wings. It’s almost like she’s being blessed with the opportunity to look upon her. She could spend an hour staring at Ashley’s face and not grow tired of looking at her.

“I picked up the items Kyle said you needed.” She says, motioning to the bags on the coffee table, pulling Christine out of her daze. “I couldn’t find the exact nutrient powder you asked for, so I got one that was as close as I could find.” 

Christine glances through the bags. She was thorough, getting at least two of everything. 

“I got warmer clothes for her too, since it can get chilly out here this time of year. Just some simple things for now until you guys get into town.” Ashley says. “I did some research too and I read that omegas like comforting things so I picked up some extra blankets and pillows” Ashley says, motioning to a couple bags sitting on the couch. “I also picked up this,” She pulls a stuffed dog from one of the bags, holding it up. “It was the softest one I could find. I thought it might help.” 

A small smile forms on Christine’s face, her heart fluttering in her chest from the sweet, thoughtful gesture. Ashley doesn’t even know you, nor did she know exactly what happened to you, and yet she went so far as to pick up some comfort items for you. You have nothing right now, only the borrowed clothes on your back. All of your belongings are still on base, all of the things that you had built to make your perfect nest. Would you want any of them still? Or have they been tainted by the events of the last few weeks? 

That Ashley thought to do this has warmth flooding Christine’s body. You can have some comfort now without having to wait for their trip to town. She almost feels the urge to cry. She wants to hug Ashley, thank her over and over for her kindness. Ashley has no idea how much her small act of kindness means, how much it's going to mean. 

A smile forms on Christine’s face as she stares at the stuffed dog. “It’s perfect.” 

You can hear it. 

In the distance, the quiet roar reaches your ears as you’re dragged from the sweet arms of sleep. It must be a dream, or perhaps the sedative is still clinging to your mind, making you imagine things. 

No. 

You’d know that sound anywhere. 

The effort to push yourself up to sit is a momentous one, every cell in your body protesting after a day of being moved and jostled. The last thing you want is to move right now, but you have to. 

The pain meds have done little to help.

The crutch at the end of your bed must be a thousand miles away as you sit there and stare at it. The ache in your body only increases as you become more and more aware of the pain, almost as if it can tell what it is your mind is planning. 

The door is cracked open, letting in a slit of light from outside. It’s dark in the room, the curtains pulled over the window. It’s a blessing compared to the bright yellow light outside the door. You welcome the darkness as your head begins to throb. You could call for assistance. You’d get more help than you needed. More help than you want. 

No. 

You need to do this. 

The effort it takes to get standing nearly sends you back onto the bed. The pain nearly blinds you as your feet touch the floor, your body leaning against the side of the mattress out of desperation. If you fall, you’ll never be alone again. You can’t afford that. You don’t want that. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The breaths out of your nose are short and sharp as you reach for the crutch, fingers trembling in the effort to fight the pain threatening to blind you. You’re trembling like a leaf in a storm as your fingers finally wrap around the cool metal. The rubber bottom drags across the floor as you tug it over to you, holding it against your chest for a moment. 

Breathe. That’s what you need to do. Breathe. 

In and out. 

Nice and slow. 

The pain is only a memory. The pain is nothing. The memories forming at the edges of your mind will take over and wipe out the pain and the misery. You just have to be sure. You just have to be certain.

You push yourself upright using the crutch, tucking it under your arm. You should go back to bed. You should rest. 

No. 

You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The first step you take nearly makes you sick. 

It’s like watching a baby deer walk for the first time, knees wobbling, feet shaking. You lean heavily on the crutch, your determination the only thing keeping you from tumbling to the floor in a heap. That might almost hurt worse than forcing yourself to stand upright. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Inch by inch you move across the floor, silently grateful for the socks on your feet. They allow you to slide across the hardwood, but they also pose a threat. Slide too far and you’ll lose your feet. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

The determination and your desire for certainty is what keeps you sliding inch by inch across the floor towards that strip of blinding light in front of you. It’s hovering before you, threatening you. How do you know there’s not one of them standing guard, waiting for you to try and leave? You can’t know. You don’t have a clue what’s waiting on the other side of that door. It could be nothing. It could be your entire pack. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You take a moment at the door, resting your aching feet. Your body is throbbing from the effort to keep yourself upright, the sedative still numbing your brain and your movements. It’s like treading through honey, everything twice as hard as it should be. You can walk. You’ve done it before. You did it in the medical center. 

You can do it here. 

You use the crutch to push the door open more, your free arm still tucked in a sling to keep you from moving it. Reaching for it with that arm would have put you on the floor, would have caused more pain than you needed, would have made you fall. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

The light burns. Explosions of yellows and whites erupt behind your eyelids as you screw them tight against the sudden onslaught. The sun is in the room, shining its rays directly into your sensitive eyes. Your stomach churns, your fingers tightening around the crutch so tight your knuckles begin to ache. The oppressive light makes you want to recede back into the darkness of the room behind you like a vampire shying away from the light of day. 

No. 

You won’t be defeated by the harsh artificial lighting. You need to know. 

You need to be certain.

The others are moving around. You can hear voices around the corner, voices upstairs with thudding footsteps. The air is thick with a mesh of scents, cleaning chemicals, and the burn of scent blocker. Your nose wrinkles at the sudden onslaught against your senses, your sedated brain making it all seem so much worse. 

You need to know. 

The hardwood floors continue and you use them to your advantage as you shuffle your way across the main area. The fire crackles as you pass, the popping of a log making you startle. Your feet slide again, your body pushing up against the crutch to hold yourself steady. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Your target is dead ahead, a mile away but so close you can almost taste it. Just past the dining table and straight on till morning. 

Despite your snail’s pace, no one seems to notice you shuffling your way across the house. It should make you upset, the fact that none of them notice you moving around, but instead it makes you glad. They’d try to stop you if they noticed you, turn you around and shuffle you back to bed. Or worse, they’d carry you. 

How easily you could slip away, though. 

Well...in theory. 

Perhaps that’s why they ‘re not paying you any mind. How far could you really go in your current state? 

Why would you want to stray from the only safe space you have? 

The world outside is more dangerous with the state you’re in. Not just because of your injuries and your status, but also because you know Shepherd is still out there, and for all you know Graves is as well. 

He could be waiting right outside the door. 

No. 

They’d know. 

They’d protect you. 

They failed. 

You push past the fear in favor of certainty as you push forward, passing the dining table in your slow crawl towards the sliding glass door. 

It poses an entirely new threat as you stand before it, staring out the darkened glass. You have to get it open. Getting it open takes strength and you’re down to one hand that’s trying to keep you upright. 

You have to know. 

You have to be certain. 

You lean your weight on the crutch, ignoring the way it digs into your armpit as you reach for the handle. You click the lock, wrapping your fingers around the plastic before pulling. Your body screams with pain as you tug, the door sliding in the track as slowly as you had moved across the small living area. It’s almost as if it's mocking you. 

It’s open only as wide as you need to crutch your way through, doing your best not to knock your left shoulder against the frame. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

Breathe. 

You can smell it. 

The salty sea air invades your senses, slipping up through your nose and straight into your brain. Memories come flooding back of childhood vacations back when things were simpler. Back when nothing mattered but the sand and the water and avoiding getting chased by your brothers carrying the piece of seaweed they found. 

Polkadot bathing suits, bright red to be seen easily. Toes in the water, sand everywhere. The nap in the silent car home. 

How simple life was back then. How easy life was. 

Your heart aches for those days again. The days when you could exist without a care in the world, trusting your pack would keep you safe, trusting your family would care for you. Your mind yearns for that sense of safety and security again. 

The world is grey as you hobble across the porch, the grey seeming to go on forever. You missed it, the chill in the air, the gloomy grey overhead. How you yearned for the gloom of England while stuck in the heat of Texas. 

Anything is better than Texas. 

Your forward shuffle pauses at the edge of the deck, your eyes looking out into the grey. Your breath catches in your throat as you stare out into the distance, the ache in your chest intensifying. It blocks out the pain in your body, numbing you to everything else as you stand there, legs trembling from the effort of going the short distance from your room to the end of the porch. 

You can see it. 

Emotions swirl inside of you like a hurricane as you stare out where the grey water meets the grey sky in the line of the horizon. Those emotions threaten to choke you as you stand there trembling at the edge of the porch. There’s a breeze, a cold one that bites through the fabric of your sweatshirt and into the skin below, but you don’t care. 

You can’t care. 

Your legs shake from the exertion, the neverending exhaustion that’s settled deep into your bones. It’s not just a physical exhaustion, but a mental one as well. It’s been a long week. 

Only a week. 

So much has happened in a week. 

You want to sit. You want to sink down onto the porch and rest. 

If you fall, you’ll never get up again. 

There’s a pain in your chest as your breath catches in your throat. The emotions are whirling, tightening around your chest, squeezing your lungs until they feel like they might pop. 

Breathe. 

In and out. 

You needed certainty. You needed to know. 

You can hear it. You can smell it. You can see it. 

A single tear rolls down your cheek as you stare out at the sea. 

NEXT ->

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[agentnatesewell]

What a gift this story is! I remember when you posted the first chapter and then second … I gave them a re-read and then read this chapter. It is wonderful!

Merciless Haze - Part 3/4

Summary: She had thought about this exact scenario a dozen times over. She had tried to do what little research she could with the information and time she had. Something was telling her now that she could have had all of the information, could have known every detail about turning, and she still wouldn’t have been prepared.

Part 1, Part 2, Part 3, Part 4

Warnings: Mentions of blood and injury.

Word Count: 3.3k

Pairing: Nate Sewell x f!Detective (Sophie MacNamara)

Note: 4 years later and it's finally here! If this is your first time coming across my fic, this is a fair warning that Parts 1 and 2 were written before Book 3 came out. Personally, I don't think it has affected the story, but it is worth mentioning.

Tags: @agentnatesewell @nat-seal-well (let me know if you want to be added or removed!)

Read on AO3

It was all too loud.

The rushing of her blood, the slowed beat of her heart, the ticking of the wall clock, the hushed voices in the room. She was assaulted by the scents surrounding her, the bitterness of blood, bile, sweat, and smoke. Every part of her ached, but the inferno had settled into a steady boil, the haze of the wildfire thinning into a morning fog.

Sophie’s eyes opened, despite the protests of her throbbing head, meeting with the blissfully dark green ceiling of her bedroom, the perimeter decorated with walnut crown molding. The familiarity of her surroundings grounded her for the first time since the forest, she couldn’t even begin to estimate how long she’d been out for.

God, her mouth was sore.

She moved her tongue to press against her aching gums, attempting to find some relief in the pressure, only to realize there were two very noticeable gaps where her canines should be, and a pin sharp promise of what was to come. Her tongue receded back behind her teeth while she processed this new information. She’d been too consumed by the pain to even comprehend what was happening to her. She allowed her eyes to slip closed again, sighing at the immediate relief of the dark. Her mind flashed back to the image of Morgan and Farah, their fangs buried into her skin. She’d been shot - multiple times at that - how had she forgotten? It was then that she came to the realization that she didn’t feel like she’d been shot, hole-punched by an entire round. She just felt very, very, sick.

“You know you can trust us?” Farah’s question echoed in her thoughts, and through it all, Sophie couldn’t stop the corner of her mouth from ticking upwards. Even in the most dire of circumstances, Farah sought to reassure her that Sophie was the priority of Unit Bravo and that keeping her earth-side, keeping her with them, was their mission.

Her reminiscence was interrupted by the two voices in her room rising in volume.

“Stop messing with them, or I’ll kick you out.”

“You can’t do that, Adam said he wanted both of us to stay in the room with her, besides, look at how cute they are!”

“Cute? They fell out of her fucking skull while she was passed out and you think they’re cute?”

Sophie’s eyes opened again at that.

“I just never realized how tiny human fangs are! This weird thing on top of it is kinda gross, though.”

“They’re not called fangs, and that’s the ro- stop.”

It took all of Sophie’s strength to lift her head to look at the two women in the room with her. Morgan looked exasperated, twirling an unlit cigarette between her fingers and leaning against her dresser. Farah, meanwhile, was sitting at her desk and grinning, amber eyes sparkling with familiar mirth as she poked at what, Sophie could only assume, was her missing teeth. She felt her jaw drop a little at the sight just as Farah’s eyes met her baffled expression.

“Sophie! You’re awake!” The young vampire seemed about ready to launch herself onto the bed with her, halted only by Morgan grabbing her by the back of her denim jacket.

“I- yes?” Sophie spluttered out, only to once again be taken aback by the sound of her voice, which not only sounded far louder in her head than she’d ever noticed before, but deep and raspy. Her eyes shifted to Morgan, who was occupied with rapidly looking her over, trying to discern exactly what kind of state she was in. She released her grip on Farah’s jacket once she felt confident that she wasn’t going to accidentally cause further bodily harm in her excitement.

Farah quickly made her way over to Sophie, settling on the edge of her bed next to her hip. “Are you- how are you feeling?” She tripped over her words.

The only thing Sophie could muster out was a low groan followed by a whispered, “Hurts.”

Farah gave a sympathetic smile, “I’ll bet, you were really fighting through it. But, hey, you did it! Which I knew you could, definitely didn’t doubt that you could, not once. Don’t ask anyone about that though,” She grinned, and Sophie was grateful for her levity, even if it was still a bit grim. Morgan interrupted that mood.

“She’s not done yet, not until she eats and we have to wait for her fangs to come in for that. That’s what Nate said at least,” Sophie was in no state to be able to process exactly what she was hearing, though Morgan must’ve noticed her perk up at the mention of Nate’s name, “He’s at the facility with Adam and Agent MacNamara,” she answered in response to her silent question.

“Sorry he’s not here, we had to get him out of the house, he was starting to wear a hole through his antique rugs from all his pacing,” Farah joked, though a small frown tugged at her lips. “None of us thought you’d be awake so soon, we wouldn’t have pushed so hard for him to go if we had.”

Morgan rubbed a hand down her face, “He’s going to throw a fit.”

Sophie attempted to hide her disappointment, likely failing to do so. She didn’t have the energy to maintain her usual stoicism. She tried to clear her throat, finding it dry and raw.

“Water?” She couldn’t elaborate further if she tried. Morgan and Farah glanced at each other.

“You wouldn’t be able to keep it down, your body is trying to clear out what it doesn’t need,” Farah patted her leg through the sheets before continuing, “and vampires don’t need water, well, outside of the water that’s in our food, we do kind of need that.”

Vampires don’t need water.

Sophie didn’t respond. Her mind was whirling. She had thought about this exact scenario a dozen times over. She had tried to do what little research she could with the information and time she had. Something was telling her now that she could have had all of the information, could have known every detail about turning, and she still wouldn’t have been prepared. She wasn’t angry, and she wasn’t scared anymore. She was just tired, exhaustion seeping into the marrow of her bones, leaving her heavy and listless. Sophie let her eyes slip closed again. Yes, she had questions, but even she knew that she was too dazed to comprehend any of the answers she may get.

Her body continued to ache, she was still wracked with fever, and Nate wasn’t there. There was no reason for her to be awake, so she slept.

—————

“There has to be something in here somewhere.”

Sophie was sifting through the library at the warehouse, determined to find anything to sate her curiosity. She’d been at it for nearly three hours now, feeling a little more emboldened to explore Nate’s more personal collections after her less-than-sober conversation with him the month prior. Even so, she was still coming up blank. It wasn’t for nothing, she had learned about the intricacies of Lycanthrope shifting, deceptions of the Fae, and the history of Gorgons. She knew more now than she ever had before, yet she had not found a single bit of information on Vampiric turnings.

She was beginning to grow frustrated, it was unfortunately very like Nate to have all the information in the world on every supernatural being except for the exact being he was. She sighed, turning to look through the shelf behind her, knowing full well that she had gone through that section before and found nothing of what she needed.

Sophie nearly jumped out of her skin at the feeling of someone grabbing her waist, turning to face who startled her.

“Bleeding Christ, Nathaniel! Give me a warning next time!” She gently shoved at his shoulder.

He gave a low chuckle in response, stepping to press his chest along her back, “Apologies, my love. I thought you heard me come in,” His chin settled onto Sophie’s shoulder as his gaze shifted to the shelf she had just been searching through. His mouth twitched, “Is there something I can help you find?”

Sophie’s face fell slightly, in all honesty, she had been hoping to avoid this conversation for at least a little bit longer. She hadn’t gathered all her thoughts yet. “Yes, I suppose there is.”

Nate quirked a brow.

“Do you have anything on turning?” She asked bluntly, like he was a librarian and not the love of her life. It felt easier to get it out that way.

His brows pinched together and he let out a heavy sigh, “I do not,” Sophie squinted her eyes at him in suspicion. “I promise you,” he continued, “I suppose I just never thought that I needed to keep any information on it. It has only ever been the four of us and our handler. We all knew full well what the process entailed. Well, I suppose Farah doesn’t know the full scope of it, and Morgan doesn’t remember her turning. Fortunately,” He lifted his head off of Sophie’s shoulder, though she felt his fingers clench the slightest bit tighter at her waist. “It… is not something any of us, especially myself and Adam, wish to reflect back on.”

Sophie knew this. The way they all danced around the topic told her as much. The only one who seemed willing to go into more detail with her was Farah, but just as Nate said, she didn’t know all the information herself, just what she had heard.

There was a beat of silence, Sophie leaned back against Nate’s chest, taking a moment to think before she spoke.

“Could you perhaps speak about it more generally?” She suggested, “As if you were teaching me something, not telling a story. I just… I need something to go off of here, Nate.”

He took a deep breath and released it slowly, his exhale warming the back of her head. “Let’s sit down,” He said, gently guiding her to the ornate seating of the library, settling comfortably to her right, his hand resting on her thigh.

“I know that I’ve been difficult about this. It’s not fair to you, we’re a part of your life, and you are- you’re everything to me,” He began to rub his thumb in gentle circles. “I hope I haven’t made it seem as if I don’t want you by my side until the end of days - I want nothing more - but turning… changes things.”

She could tell he was beginning to ramble, one of the rare occasions where he was struggling to organize his thoughts, unsure of how to proceed. She placed her left hand on top of his, bringing him to a stop. She brought her other hand up to cup his face, tracing his cheekbone with her thumb as he pressed further against her palm.

Sophie was still taken aback by how beautiful he was. Soft brown eyes below thick brows, gentle waves framing the defined lines of his face. She could wax poetic about him in ways no other person could inspire her to. “I love you.”

His gaze softened, “And I love you, more than you could ever fathom.”

She leaned into him, placing a gentle kiss on the corner of his mouth, a final reassurance before she continued their conversation.

“I know you worry, and I know you don’t want to persuade me one way or the other. But, Nate, I need to be educated on this topic. There’s power in knowledge, you know that better than anyone.”

His lips tightened into a meek smile, giving the slightest nod. “Save for you, ya rouhi.”

Sophie gave a small chuff in response. “You know me better than anyone, Nate. You know that the worst thing that could happen to me is dying knowing that there was another option, or being tormented for who knows how long because of an uninformed decision.”

Nate laces his fingers with hers, heaving another sigh. “You’re right. Of course, you’re right,” His gaze flickered to the shelves behind the sofa. “I don’t have any works to reference here at the warehouse, I hope my own knowledge is enough for now.”

She shifted closer to him, to which he responded by putting his arm over her shoulder. “It will be.”

He tucks a loose piece of her hair back behind her ear. “What questions do you have then, my love?”

“You’ll answer them?”

“I will answer them.”

—————

She woke up to the taste of blood in her mouth and her bottom lip throbbing between her teeth. Wincing as she unclenched her jaw, Sophie felt her teeth slip out of the skin beneath her lips. She lifted herself onto her elbow, looking to where her head had just been. She was greeted by a very noticeable deep red stain starting on the edge of her pillow case and continuing down onto her beige bed sheets.

Hesitantly, she reached up to touch where her teeth had just been embedded, finding the wound there to raw and open. Baffled, she moved her hand up further, and with great uncertainty, opened her mouth to allow her fingers to touch what she was certain she would find.

Where before there had been gaps from her missing canines, there were now two small, sensitive teeth - no - fangs. Sophie moved the tip of her index finger to the point of the right fang and gently pressed up against it in experimentation. Just as she expected, she felt a stinging pinch, and drew back her finger to find a droplet of blood forming on the tip.

She was entranced by the sight, unable to tear her gaze away from it. It began to slide down her finger, her attention not wavering. Sophie couldn’t help but press her thumb against the wandering drop, spreading it along her first knuckle.

She was ripped from her reverie by a slow, rhythmic beat coming from just outside her doorway. The lone sound was soon joined by a second, then a third. None of them were synchronized, one was quicker than the other two.

Then came the scent. Strong, metallic, sweet. Tempting.

Before she could realize what she was doing, Sophie was swinging her neglected legs off her bed, standing for the first time since she fell in the forest. Despite having been bedridden for what she could only assume had been days, Sophie had never felt more stable. She’d never felt this strong. She rushed across her room to rip open the door. Whatever was out there, she needed it so desperately it made her mouth water and sent shivers down her spine

There, in the hallway just outside her bedroom, she was met with three familiar faces, but only one had the deep brown eyes she’d been longing to see since she first hit the forest floor.

—————

10 Days Earlier

“I don’t like this, Adam.”

“They are fully capable of handling themselves, as well as any threat that they may come across.”

They were walking through the halls of the facility, having just left the meeting with the Agency Combat Director and heading towards the training room they were requested to advise in.

Nate stopped in his tracks, grabbing Adam’s shoulder to force him to look him in the eye. “How many times have we gone up against Trappers expecting one thing, only to be blindsided with another?”

The way Adam’s jaw tensed told him that he knew Nate was right. “It has already been decided, whether we agree with it or not.”

Nate dropped his hand and opened his mouth again, ready to begin an argument that he knew would get him nowhere. Adam was the one to grasp his shoulder this time, interrupting him before he could get a word in.

“They will be fine, Nate,” Adam gave him a knowing look. “She will be fine,” He gave his shoulder one comforting squeeze before letting go and continuing down the hallway.

Nate took a deep breath, then followed.

Not even three hours later, Nate knew he should have trusted his gut. He knew Adam was thinking the same thing.

Halfway through their session with Unit Lima, Agent MacNamara burst into the training room looking distressed, saying that they had lost radio contact with the remainder of Unit Bravo in the midst of a struggle.

Nate felt like he was going to be sick. Adam was easily going 110 in the Agency SUV and it still didn’t feel fast enough. They had left three other Agency vehicles in the dust.

The second Adam swerved and pulled up to the rendezvous point, Nate was out the door running, Adam only a beat behind him.

Nate smelled her blood before he saw her, it made his stomach flip. He finally broke through the thick tree cover and brush, out into a clearing covered in the bodies of at least two dozen trappers. The Agency’s “no-kill” policy had clearly been disregarded. That wasn’t what Nate had been focused on though.

“Sophie!” There she was, on the ground, the dirt below her becoming dark and damp. He looked up, seeing Morgan and Farah by her side.

Morgan and Farah, whose mouths were stained with blood. Morgan, whose entire body was shaking. Farah, whose face was shining from tears.

No. He thought. No it wasn’t supposed to be done like this. It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Nate went down onto his knees and soon as he was close, sliding from his momentum.

“Nate, Natey, I’m so sorry,” Farah hiccuped, “I didn’t know what else to do, I didn’t-”

Nate didn’t hear the rest of what Farah said, all he could do was look down at Sophie. Her shirt had been torn open already, leaving her strong abdomen exposed, her sports bra relatively intact save for a tear in the left strap. Her clothing told a story her skin no longer did; small circular holes left threaded, the polyester melted some. On her stomach, mildly camouflaged by the blood cover, were three clean entry wounds. Entry wounds that were already beginning proliferation.

Her typically pale freckled face was completely ashen, her lips parted and bleeding. The skin around her shut eyes was wet with tears.

Nate’s heart ached and his eyes stung.

He brought his hands up to her face, caressing her head between his palms. His eyes shifted down to her collarbone where he saw two identical pink marks, the only evidence left of Farah’s bite. He allowed himself to release a shaky breath. She was healing. She was healing very quickly.

He thought he heard his name.

It wasn’t supposed to happen like this.

Someone was saying his name.

They hadn’t been able to discuss this properly.

“Nate!” Adam’s voice brought him back to reality. “The medics are here, we need to get her to the facility.”

Nate shook his head. “No. Tell them to bring her home, back to the warehouse.”

“Nate-”

“Adam, please.”

“We cannot just-”

“Nate,” He turned to look behind him, met with the panicked gaze of Agent MacNamara. When had she arrived? “Is there a good reason? To bring her home, is there a good reason?” Her voice was stern and frantic.

Nate stood and turned to face her.

He was barely able to speak, now seeing the four medics entering the clearing behind Agent MacNamara, ready for direction. “Yes, yes,” He was trying to get his thoughts in order to explain, instead she gave him pause as she placed a gentle hand on his shoulder.

“Then home she will go,” She stepped aside to let the medics pass. Encouraging Nate to do the same with the press of her hand. Nate’s teary eyes met hers, which were just damp and full of worry as his. “I trust your judgement, Agent. Especially when it comes to her.”

Nate broke from her gaze to look back at Sophie. They stood in silence, side by side, watching as the medics moved Sophie onto a stretcher.

“Thank you, Rebecca.”

[luna-azzurra]

Emotionally Questionable but Artistically Valid Things To Do When You’re a Writer Losing the Plot (Literally or Figuratively)

Write your WIP’s obituary. “She lived a chaotic life, filled with plot holes, unresolved arcs, and one very confusing love triangle. She is survived by a Google Doc, 74 sticky notes, and a Pinterest board titled ‘vibes but make it pain.’” Bonus catharsis if you make it weirdly tender. Double bonus if you actually cry a little.

Make your WIP a dating profile. Age: Timeless. Location: Trapped in your brain since 2018. Looking for: A writer who won’t ghost me mid-draft. Interests: Slow burn tension, morally gray decisions, and long walks through traumatic backstory. Will it match with anyone? No. But you might remember why you fell in love with it in the first place.

Assign your plot holes a Hogwarts house. That one you keep ignoring? Slytherin. The subplot that’s doing too much? Hufflepuff with main character energy. The gaping logic error you swear you’ll fix later? Ravenclaw, but drunk. Somehow this helps. Somehow this feels like control.

Write a resignation letter from your genre. “Dear Fantasy, it’s not you, it’s me. Actually—it is you. The worldbuilding demands are emotionally abusive, and I just want to write messy little humans having conversations that ruin their lives.” You can always go back. Or not. You’re allowed to genre-hop like a chaotic frog with a laptop.

Host a fake podcast episode where you psychoanalyze your protagonist. Today on Therapy, But Make It Fictional, we discuss why Aiden cannot maintain a single healthy relationship, the consequences of childhood abandonment, and how trauma is not a personality trait (even though he tries). Record yourself. Don’t post it. Unless you do. I won’t stop you.

Put your WIP characters in a reality show. Big Brother: Emotional Damage Edition. Who cries first? Who forms a secret alliance? Who self-destructs on Day 2 because someone used their emotional trauma as a joke? (Yes, this is basically writing. Yes, this counts.)

Create an “Am I the Problem?” chart for your WIP. Spoiler: You’re not. The plot arc from hell is. But mapping it out like a true crime board will help. Use yarn. Use vibes. Use Google Slides if you’re a Virgo. Just externalize the chaos.

Write fanfiction… of your own book. That spicy scene you know you won’t put in because it messes with pacing? Write it. That “what if they shared a bed but didn’t touch” trope you secretly crave? Give in. You are your first fan. Be delulu. Be free.

Create a soundtrack for your villain’s redemption arc that will never happen. Include Lana Del Rey. Include Mitski. Include at least one angry violin solo. You don’t have to redeem them, but you can imagine them staring into the rain while “The Sound of Silence” plays.

Doodle your plot like a crime scene. Victim: Narrative Cohesion. Suspects: A surprise third act twist, a talking sword, and that one flashback chapter that broke the timeline. Go full corkboard-and-pushpins energy. You’ll either solve it or at least feel like an unhinged genius. Which is basically the same.

[apersonnamedel]

Something I would like to point out while rewatching HTTYD2 that I think is very interesting and also not at all talked about is this.

HTTYD2 brings lots and I mean LOTS of parallels whether they are visual or spoken but the one I hear spoken about the most is between Hiccup and Valka and them not killing a dragon. Even the movie tries to make this seem like a parallel. They bring it up even!

“Ehh it runs in the family.” Hiccup says after the flashback scene.

But something I noticed is that it is not a parallel. Mainly because of a few key things. It’s more almost perpendicular. They head in the same direction and they have the same realization, then go in complete opposite directions.

Valka runs away. A key part of her character I’ve noticed while I’ve been writing my analysis of her is that she oozes of cowardice and willful ignorance. Now that doesn’t mean she’s a bad person, it simply means that she ran away and chose to stay away. But that’s not the main reason I brought this up.

Remember the flashback where they draw attention to how similar Hiccup and Valka are? They talk about it in a very specific way.

They bring attention to two points. Both of them looked into a dragons eye and saw themself. Then they both didn’t kill a dragon. They show this as some kind of parallel. Maybe to show that Hiccup has someone who understands him, maybe to add a bit of layering to the first movie and how he’s just like her.

But it’s not a parallel.

What’s the difference in this scene?

One dragon is tied up.

One isn’t.

It’s a matter of choice.

“You and your father nearly died that night. All because I couldn’t kill a dragon.” Quote Valka.

“300 years and I’m the first Viking who wouldn’t kill a dragon.” Quote Hiccup.

Hiccups statement STILL rings true. Valka had no choice in if she wanted to kill Cloudjumper or not. That’s why I brought up Valka’s cowardice. Valka was in a trapped house with an injured newborn and an unbound dragon 5x her size. She was in the middle of a raid with people all around. Stoick was around the corner. She simply couldn’t kill the dragon. It wasn’t a matter of would or wouldn’t.

Hiccup on the other hand was alone in a forest with a tied up dragon. He made the decision to not kill Toothless. He wouldn’t. Because he absolutely could have killed Toothless.

“I was a coward. I was weak. I wouldn’t kill a dragon.”

“You said wouldn’t that time.”

This scene (in my own opinion) is meant to show that Hiccup was never the hiccup. He was never a coward. He wasn’t weak. It’s meant to be ironic.

Hiccup let go one of the most dangerous dragons in the world and it was brave. He went against his culture, his tribe because he thought it was the right thing to do.

That’s where Valka and Hiccups story become perpendicular. Hiccup was brave. Valka was a coward.

Hiccup chose not to run away. He chose to change their minds. He thought their minds could change.

Valka ran away. She didn’t listen and didn’t think change was possible. She held this belief until Hiccup comes along.

Valka’s path is where she believes that dragons are more than they seem. Then, “This wasn’t a viscous beast, but an intelligent gentle creature whose soul, reflected my own.” She has the revelation. Then she runs away and stays away. Now she had her own reasons and I am very much phrasing this in a biased way but it’s meant to show a point. She stays away and doesn’t change much. Because she couldn’t kill a dragon.

Hiccups path is where he does not see much to dragons. He wants to kill one to be accepted into the village. He shoots down Toothless and- “Everything we know about you guys, is wrong.” Or- “I looked at him and saw myself.” Hiccup and Valka’s paths cross here. But Hiccup doesn’t run away and he changes Berk’s mind. Because he wouldn’t kill a dragon.

Anyways I think that’s about it for that topic and I think it should be discussed more! Because if you really think about it, there are almost no parallels in Valka and Hiccup. And if there are, it isn’t well executed enough that it leaves a strong impact. I definitely will talk about this more but it’s late and I crave sleep.

[tsunomenom]

home hero | yt22 smau

♡ summary: the internet’s favorite story from suzuka? how you navigate your boyfriend’s home race also being your brother’s birthday

♡ pairing: yuki tsunoda x piastri!reader

♡ warnings: Couple of hate comments, use of yn

♡ faceclaim: none (pictures from pinterest)

♡ a/n: piastri sister!! (been wanting to do a piastri!reader so what better than a suzuka fic)

masterlist

~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~•~

𝜗𝜚

replies—

user844 NO ONES TALKING ABOUT THIS AND ITS MAKING ME GO MAD 😭😭

user143 she’s most likely going to support both but it’s fun to speculate 😭

user081 like who’s garage will she be in? it’s yuki’s first red bull race but it’s also oscar’s 24th birthday and yuki’s family is gonna be there

user197 she’ll manage her time well i’m sure (i’m just stressed for her)

user062 someone check on mark webber that’s his “adopted” daughter who’s boyfriend now drives the second redbull 🥲

user142 he’s getting flashbacks for sure

user077 yn is like oscar’s biggest fan since karting but also its yuki’s home race and first race with red bull… 🤧

user843 something about calling oscar the birthday boy makes him sound like an eight year old 😭

user502 REAL AF 💀💀

user710 real question is HOW IS NICOLE 😭😭😭

user318 you know she’s freaking out about yuki in that red bull seat

user255 as the #1 yuki fan she’s on the edge of her seat this weekend

user331 she’s a red bull girlie this weekend ☝️

user175 EXACTLY we claim her this weekend papaya can have her in bahrain

ynpiastrii this is hilarious as shit 😭😭

user773 OMG HEY QUEEN 😍😍

user154 WAIT SO WHICH ONE

user188 DONT IGNORE THE QUESTION BDAY BOY OR HOME HERO 😀😀😀

—— ynpiastri instagram story

replies—

user065 MY FAVORITE WAG 😭

user131 yukiyn crumbs‼️‼️

hattiepiastri AND YOU DIDNT INVITE ME 🙄

➥ ynpiastri you’re in aus 🙄 i can’t send ramen across the ocean hatts.

user189 i love the series of yuki taking you to different restaurants 😭😭

lilyzneimer that looks so good 😍😍

➥ ynpiastri queen do i need to hint at oscar to take you this week because it’s worth it 😩

➥ lilyzneimer YES 🤭

lando kinda rude not to give me the leftovers 🙄

➥ ynpiastri oh! didn’t realize i had to feed my brothers teammate now 😒

oscarpiastri Sooo are you taking me here for my birthday 👀

➥ ynpiastri is your birthday this week?

➥ oscarpiastri That’s not funny

user405 BRO 🤤

francisca.cgomes YUMMY 😭😭

➥ ynpiastri MY LOVE IT WAS SO GOOD 😭😭😭

user121 are we wearing papaya this weekend or rocking with redbull???

—— drivers’ press conference

(pic 1: interviewer: “Yuki your girlfriend, Yn Piastri, is also the sister of Mclaren driver, Oscar Piastri. With it being your home race and first race with Red Bull. while also Oscar’s birthday have you all discussed who’s garage she’ll be in this weekend?”)(pic 2: Yuki: *laughs* Is that a thing people want to know? I mean she’ll more than likely be with my family since hers isn’t here this weekend. Not sure though guess I’ll have to check with her what she’s doing)(pic 3: Charles: *laughs* “we are checking!” Yuki: *laughing* “Exactly! We are checking!”)

Comments—

user125 not the point but charles joking about we are checking is fucking hilarious 😭😭

user882 he really said: why is this news? 😭😭

user321 his face said “we do this all year why do you care now” 😭

user028 literally he was so put off by the question

user176 yuki not realizing everyone is just obsessed with yn as he is 💀

user034 he really was like why do you care?

user517 charles saying “we are checking” in 2025 💀💀

user505 must be the water 🤷‍♀️

user125 yuki kinda called us all crazy for making it such a big deal where yn would be watching the race from 😭😭

user987 looked like he wanted to call us all parasocial

—— instagram

ynpiastri

Liked by alexandrasaintmleux and 75,489 others

ynpiastri quick! how do i make my brothers birthday about me??

tagged: yukitsunoda0511 oscarpiastri

View all comments

user231 who’s birthday? all i see is a yn piastri photo dump 🙈

user152 OSCAR BIRTHDAY DINNER???

user134 IK THIS IS SO CUTE 😭

user045 YN POSTED‼️‼️‼️

lando where was my invite?

ynpiastri must’ve gotten lost in the mail 🤷‍♀️

lando ynpiastri this is just rude as fuck 🤧

ynpiastri lando i’ll tell the fia you’re swearing 🙂‍↔️

lando ynpiastri YOU HATE ME 🥲

user444 they’re siblings (confirmed)

hattiepiastri once again was not invited

ynpiastri once again you’re in australia my love 😍🫶🏻

hattiepiastri ynpiastri bully 😒

ynpiastri hattiepiastri love you too pookie 🫶🏻

user310 my fav piastri 😍😍😍

yukitsunoda0511 same 😍

user310 yukitsunoda0511 BYE 😭😭

hattiepiastri yukitsunoda0511 i thought i was your favorite 🤨

yukitsunoda0511 hattiepiastri who told you that?? 🤨

user031 hattie catching strays in the comments 😭😭

user143 that photo of oscar at the end 💀💀💀

user032 literal jumpscare 😭

user558 lily and yn taking up the most of this dump is the way it should be 😍

yukitsunoda0511 favorite dinner date ❤️❤️

ynpiastri who? oscar??

yukitsunoda0511 ynpiastri yes ☺️

ynpiastri yukitsunoda0511 knew it i’m the other woman 🤧🤧

ynpiastri all seriousness you’re my favourite dinner date too 🤭🤭

user041 wait when is oscar’s birthday i thought it wasn’t for a few days 😭

ynpiastri it’s sunday!! we celebrated early since everyone’s busy during race weekend ☺️

user041 ynpiastri HEY QUEEN 😍 that’s so cute stoppp

oscarpiastri Thanks again for dinner Yn it was great!

oscarpiastri could’ve chosen a different picture for the end though 😒

ynpiastri of course!! happy (early) birthday bud!!

ynpiastri oscarpiastri i actually couldn’t hope this helps ☺️

user009 sibling goals tbh

lilymhe you and lily definitely stole the show from the birthday boy 😍

ynpiastri you’re so right we served 😏

user310 i love yn and lily squared 😭

—— instagram

f1

Liked by ynpiastri and 972,231 others

f1 Here’s how we start for the 2025 Japanese Grand Prix after Carlos Sainz’s grid penalty 🇯🇵

View all comments

user301 i’m in yuki tsunoda defense mode ♥︎ by ynpiastri

user931 maybe the second seat is cursed

user796 Lawson being 13th and Tsunoda being 14th is actually hilarious 😂

user045 yuki’s performing better in both cars??

user302 user045 HONESTLY 😭 plus liam got preseason in the car this is literally yuki’s first week in the car 🙂‍↔️

user934 oscar almost had pole. yuki being screwed over by redbull already (literally don’t even fight me rn). it’s a rough day for piastris 😔

user037 someone check on nicole and yn

user968 the piastris (including yuki) are too slay for this kind of treatment 🙂‍↔️

user310 YUKI TSUNODA GET BEHIND ME 🔪 ♥︎ by ynpiastri

user798 LIKE FR WHAT DID HE DO TO THESE PEOPLE 😔

user412 THE COMMENTS ARE SO CRUEL 🤧

user031 HES JUST A BABY 🥲🥲

user310 oscar with a second row start for his birthday‼️ (would’ve slayed if he got to start on pole rip 🤧)

user032 we believe in you yuki!! you’ve proven this weekend you can keep up with max!

user210 ??

user032 user210 did you not watch free practice?? he was right there with max

—— ynpiastri instagram story

replies—

user431 RED BULL WAG LOOKS GOOD ON YOU QUEEN 😭

user189 yuki will slay today 🤞🤞🤞

francisca.cgomes you look so good 😭

➥ ynpiastri thank you queen 😭😭

hattiepiastri SLAY

➥ ynpiastri all i know how to do 😍

➥ hattiepiastri it’s in the genes frr

nicolepiastri Tell Yuki we’re all cheering him on today no matter what!

➥ ynpiastri i will mum 😭😭

user310 LOOKING GOOOD 😍

user807 your aura will save yuki from the second seat curse 🤞🤞

lilymhe YOURE SO PRETTY 😭

➥ ynpiastri UGH NO YOUUU

➥ lilymhe FIGHT ME 🥊🥊

➥ ynpiastri ILL FIGHT ALEX FOR YOU 😍🤤🤤

—— instagram

yukitsunoda0511

Liked by pierregasly and 296,421 others

yukitsunoda0511 first race in the books with redbullracing, there’s work to be done but i’m excited to keep improving and building from here. i would also like to thank everyone for all the support! racing at home in Japan is such a privilege, and even if we didn’t get the result we wanted, I’m so grateful to everyone for all the love i received this weekend 🙏

View all comments

user688 WE’RE ALL ROOTING FOR YOU 📣📣

user981 proud of you! ily yuki 🤍

user512 never give up yuki!! we all believe in you 💪💪

nicolepiastri You did a great job this weekend Yuki!! I am Incredibly proud of you! I know you’re destined for great things! ❤️

user044 forever his #1 fan fr

yukitsunoda0511 thanks nicole😭

user883 Break the curse‼️

user712 to gain two positions on a track that’s really determined in quali is a feat in itself!! you’ve got this we’ll be back in bahrain‼️‼️

ynpiastri incredibly proud of you!! keep defying the odds i love you 🫶🏻🫶🏻

user140 STOP YOU TWO ARE TOO ADORABLE 😭😭

yukitsunoda0511 i love you sm thanks for being by my side 🫶🏻

user311 lets go yuki!!! you got this!

isackhadjar You did good this weekend Yuki!!

user021 ISUKI 😭😭😭🤧🤧🤧

yukitsunoda0511 thanks!!! congrats on points man!!

user775 you’re doing so good yuki!!

user021 we’re cheering you on!

hattiepiastri good race yuki!! can’t wait to watch what you can continue to do!

yukitsunoda0511 thanks hattie see you soon!!

user120 the piastris love yuki and its adorable 🤧🤧

user013 looking forward to bahrain!! continue learning the car!!

user305 you did great given the circumstances! 🙌

maepiastrii way to go yuki! you’ll keep getting better!!

yukitsunoda0511 thanks so much!

user992 Way to go Yuki!

ediepiastri great job today!!

yukitsunoda0511 thanks!

user034 Next race will go better! you’re doing great for the car you’ve been given!!

user220 Keep pushing! you’ve got this!

oscarpiastri Good race Yuki!

yukitsunoda0511 thanks oscar! congrats on p3 and happy birthday!! 😄

user931 IM GOING TO SOBBB THE PIASTRIS SHOWING YUKI SO MUCH LOVE 🥹🥹

user112 they’ve adopted him at this point 🥲🥲

~~~

ynpiastri

Liked by lilymhe and 85,832 others

ynpiastri always my favorite. love you japan 🎌

tagged: yukitsunoda0511 lilymhe oscarpiastri lando

View all comments

user032 the fact the most interesting thing that happened this weekend was some fires in free practice and qualifying and everyone freaking out over where yn was gonna watch the race from 😭😭

user130 always the best photos dumps‼️

lilymhe honored to make the dump 😌

ynpiastri ALWAYS 😍😍

user821 SOOO PRETTY 😭😭

user102 NOT THE SCREENSHOT OF OSCAR HOLDING LANDO’S THUMB 💀💀💀💀

user021 she stays trolling him 😭

user103 oscar will never know peace with her and i love it

user991 the yuki pics are so precious 😭

user031 she feeds us with boyfriend yuki and i’m here for it 🥲🥲

user151 he’s so real for having food/drink in each one 😭

alexandrasaintmleux you and lily steal the show!!

ynpiastri UGH ILY 🤧🤧

user999 that red bull jacket 😫😫😫

francisca.cgomes i live for your photo dumps 😍

ynpiastri stopp i’m blushingggg 🤭

oscarpiastri Am I being cyberbullied?

ynpiastri why would you think that 🤨

oscarpiastri ynpiastri 😀

lando maybe just learn how to dap ♥︎ by author

oscarpiastri lando STOP BULLYING ME‼️

user912 Japan loves you too yn 🫶🏻

user081 she’s my favorite wag 🤧🤧

lilyzneimer the queen of photo dumps strikes again 🤭

ynpiastri byeeee ily queen 🤭

user087 OBSESSED

user102 tell yuki we’re all rooting for him!!

hattiepiastri okay cool but what souvenir did you buy me?

ynpiastri … none?

hattiepiastri ynpiastri how dare you 🤧

ynpiastri hattiepiastri i’m sorry pookie 😔

isackhadjar hurt i didn’t make the dump

ynpiastri in my defense! you made yuki’s more than i did ☝️

isackhadjar ynpiastri good point he posted more photos of me than you 😝

ynpiastri isackhadjar don’t rub it in 😒

user020 aura to the max 😍

yukitsunoda0511 best home race i could ask for! no matter the race result having you there with me means the most 🫶🏻 love you

ynpiastri i love you so much and i’m proud of you no matter what! you’re doing amazing 🫶🏻

user220 okay i’m sobbing 🥲

[wandamaximoffsbadgirl]

Loving You Was Never Hard

Part 4

Wandanat x fem!reader

Summary: You finally get to meet their friends and find out it's okay to be vulnerable

Word Count: 1.9K

Warnings: Mentions of past emotional abuse and neglectful relationships, Brief descriptions of trauma responses (e.g., self-doubt, emotional flashbacks), Light teasing (supportive context), Discussions of found family and emotional vulnerability, Soft caregiver dynamics beginning to develop (Mama/Daddy references, comfort scenes), Mild emotional hurt/comfort, Sleepy little space behavior

Authors note: This just felt so therapeutic to write so I hope you all enjoy it

You had finally felt like you were settled in. Wanda had helped you unpack most of your things though you kept a box under your bed that you didn't let Wanda touch. The room–though still very much theirs–now had a bit of your own flair to it. Some posters, decor, your throw blanket, pillows. Some of your things even started to spill out of the room and into the living room and kitchen. 

A few of your clothes even end up in their bedroom for no other reason than Wanda picking up laundry when she saw it. She'd fold them neatly and hang the shirts up. 

You were finally feeling comfortable and a part of the house as you helped Wanda do little things around the house. Usually during the days when she'd work from home you'd check in with her and make her lunch, bringing her drinks and doing chores. It made you feel useful and unlike your ex, Wanda always appreciated it. Giving you a smile and a thank you. Even if she could only mouth it. Sometimes she'd grab your hand, giving a gentle kiss before her hand would find the small of your back to gently push you out. 

It brought you joy to be useful and that's why Wanda and Natasha let you do it. They saw the pure joy on your face as you cooked dinner one night while they had both had to go in for meetings. Both walking through the door to your music playing, your voice carrying through the house as you happily chopped up veggies and skewered meat. The two women looked at each other and then at you before you noticed them. They both just took you in a moment before Natasha spoke up, “Dinner is gonna be amazing tonight. I can already tell.” It startled you and you blushed a bit, looking down at the kabobs in front of you. You felt a hand on your head before you were gently pulled to Natasha's chest. Her lips kissing the top of your head. “I mean that baby.” Her words of encouragement made you feel something you hadn't in a long time. 

Your ex never appreciated the food you cooked. Never complimented it. Never second guessed it. To her it was expected and if that expectation wasn't met you were yelled at and cussed out and made to sleep on the couch as you begged for forgiveness. 

You finally felt appreciated. It was over dinner that night the two of them explained their weekly get together with their friends. The first thing you said to them caught them off guard. 

“I can leave for the evening if you want or just stay in my room so I don't bother your evening.” You say to them without a second thought. When your ex had people over she'd rather you not be seen or heard. Didn't want her friends knowing her girlfriend didn't have a job. 

“Oh malyshka no we want to have you with us and introduce you to our friends.” Wanda speaks in that soft, loving tone that sends a wave through you. 

“We want them to get to know you and have fun with you there baby.” Natasha joins in, making you blush, looking down at your food. 

“W-why would you want that? I'm just like a stray you took in.” You mumble, poking at your food. 

“Malyshka.” Wanda says in a tone that makes you look at her without hesitation. “You aren't a stray. We care about you. You've been here for almost two weeks. You're a part of this household. You help cook and clean and you do your fair share while Tasha and I work. You are so helpful and we appreciate having you here with us. Truly we love having you here and as bad or weird as it might sound we're glad your ex kicked you out and my brother sent you our way. I think fate did that for a reason.” Wanda's words left you speechless and you didn't realize the tears pricking your eyes until they slipped down your face. 

Natasha’s hand found your cheek with a light brush of her thumb and a soft smile as you met her gaze. “We aren’t going anywhere. We aren’t having you go anywhere. You’re a part of this home.” She reassured you. More tears falling from your face. 

“I don’t deserve you two…” Your voice cracked along with Wanda’s heart.

“You deserve the world sweet girl.” Wanda’s voice was softer as she reached across the table. Her hand finding yours then Natasha’s hand finding Wanda’s as the three of you connected. You had never felt like you belonged somewhere this much before. 

༘˚⋆𐙚｡⋆𖦹.✧˚

You changed into something a little nicer after dinner—nothing fancy, just a cozy oversized sweater and leggings—but Wanda had smiled at you approvingly anyway when you walked out of your room. It was strange, how that small smile eased the nerves curling in your stomach. You weren’t used to meeting new people like this. Not people who were important to the people who’d taken you in. Not people who might judge you if you were too quiet, or too weird, or too... you.

The doorbell rang around seven. Your hands froze mid-fold over a dish towel, and you glanced over your shoulder at Wanda, who was already walking toward the front door with a serene expression. Natasha gave you a little nudge from where she leaned against the counter.

“You’ll be fine, sweetheart. They’re gonna love you.”

You tried to believe her.

And then the house filled with voices and laughter.

Maria was the first one in—sharp suit, easy smile. Then came Carol, loud and warm, Monica right beside her with a plate of cupcakes. Pepper arrived next, already talking about some deal she’d closed that morning, and finally Kate and Yelena wandered in together, mid-bicker about some board game they’d played the night before.

You hovered just off to the side, eyes wide, hands clasped nervously in front of you.

Wanda noticed first. Of course she did.

“Come here, baby,” she said softly, reaching for you with one hand. And you went. You didn’t even think about it. You just moved to her side, letting her arm loop around your waist, her hand resting on your back in that grounding way that had become so familiar.

You heard Pepper’s voice, amused. “Ooh, total Mama’s girl, huh?”

Your face burned as the others chuckled. You tried to pull away slightly, but Wanda held you close, rubbing her thumb gently against your side.

“There’s nothing wrong with listening when someone asks nicely,” Wanda said lightly, with just enough of a faux warning tone to make Pepper smirk and throw her hands up in mock surrender.

Natasha joined the circle then, nodding toward you. “Everyone, this is our girl. Be nice, or I’ll kick you out before movie night starts.”

“Hi,” you said, quiet, but sincere.

“Hi!” Monica gave you a warm grin. “Wanda and Natasha have said so many good things about you.”

“Only the good ones,” Carol added, winking.

Kate squinted at you, playful. “Wait—are you the one who made those kabobs they were raving about in the group chat?”

You blinked. “Um… I guess so?”

“They were talking about those for days,” Yelena said, nodding seriously. “We’ve been dying for an invite ever since.”

You felt your cheeks heat again, but a small smile tugged at your lips despite yourself.

“Why don’t you help me get drinks ready?” Wanda asked, as though sensing the moment your nerves started to rise again. You nodded quickly, escaping to the kitchen with her.

As you moved around to get cups and help pour wine and sodas, you felt that warm familiar comfort creep back in. Wanda worked beside you like you’d done it a hundred times before. She passed you things without needing to be asked. Your shoulders eased.

“I didn’t embarrass you, did I?” you whispered at one point, afraid to look her in the eyes.

Wanda paused, then turned to you with a gentle expression. “No, baby. You could never embarrass me. You were perfect.”

And with that, she leaned in and kissed your temple—just once, quick and tender—before passing you a tray of glasses.

As the two of you returned to the living room, the sound of laughter and music filling the space again, you realized something you hadn’t before:

You weren’t just staying here anymore.

You were part of this.

The second movie was winding down, the credits rolling quietly over soft background music. Most of the chatter had died down, replaced by half-asleep murmurs and the crinkle of snack wrappers. You didn’t realize how tired you were until your head dipped and landed gently against Wanda’s shoulder.

She turned just slightly, enough to look down and see your eyes fluttering closed, your body warm and pliant against her side. One arm curled instinctively around you, hand brushing gently over your back as you nuzzled closer, letting out the tiniest sigh.

Pepper noticed first, leaning toward the group with a teasing little smirk. “Looks like someone’s falling asleep on Mama.”

The affectionate teasing made a few smiles flicker across the room—until Natasha stirred.

She rose from her chair without a word, setting her wine glass down with a soft clink. Wanda didn’t need to say anything—she gently tilted your body forward so Natasha could scoop you up effortlessly, her arms sliding beneath you with practiced ease.

You barely stirred, only wrapping your arms tightly around her neck, legs curling up around her waist like you’d done it a thousand times before.

A soft murmur escaped your lips. “Tasha…”

Carol blinked, watching with a smile that was more amused than surprised. “Oh. A Daddy’s girl too.”

“Shhh,” Wanda hushed them with a soft, protective smile, brushing your hair back from your forehead. “Let her sleep.”

Natasha carried you down the hallway like you weighed nothing, your soft breaths warm against her collarbone, your hold clinging to her like you never wanted to let go. Once inside your room, she gently laid you down in the bed, tugging the blankets up around your body with a care that made her movements almost reverent.

But your hand caught her wrist before she could pull away.

“Mmmm… Tasha?” you asked sleepily, still barely awake.

“Yes, baby?” she said softly, sitting down beside you and letting her fingers drift through your hair, slow and soothing.

Your voice was quiet, a mumble against the pillow, but it was so sincere it made her heart ache.

“Is it okay to be a Mama’s girl and a Daddy’s girl?”

Natasha smiled, warm and full of something she didn’t quite know how to name. You didn’t open your eyes—you just pressed your face further into her hand, clearly comforted by the gentle affection.

“Of course it is, baby,” she said, brushing a few strands of hair away from your cheek. “Wanda and I would both love that. But we can talk more about it another time, okay?”

You gave a sleepy, approving noise, content and soothed by her presence.

She leaned down and pressed a kiss to your forehead. “Goodnight, baby.”

“Nigh, Daddy,” you whispered, the words coming without hesitation.

Natasha stayed a little longer, brushing your hair back slowly, watching your features go slack with sleep. She didn’t rush out the door when you finally drifted off. She just sat there in the quiet, heart full and eyes soft.

[thanksbutno98]

Foxes

John Price x wife!reader OC

Summary: John Price has to break out his military training to keep his property safe from foxes hunting his chickens; and maybe something else hunting his wife.

Warnings: Guns, allusions to stalking, stalking, PTSD, mentions of kidnapping, mentions of gun violence, hunting, animal deaths, sexual themes, swearing, not edited.

——————

Your music was blasting and feeling as good as you did you were belting out the words this warm summer day. It didn’t matter if you sounded good, you loved this song. And everyone in the neighborhood was going to know it. With the open windows and backdoor your sweet tunes were bound to be carried on the brisk summer breeze.

Dancing around your kitchen in your bare feet, athletic shorts and a baby blue t-shirt you continued to sing while you cooked lunch. A nice and easy air fried fish fingers, chips, and a summer salad was on the menu as requested by John. Taking the metal tongs for the air fryer you used them as a microphone and tried to moonwalk horribly. You were quite the sight to see. Making an absolute fool of yourself in the privacy of your home.

If John were inside instead of tending to the chickens he would be showing you how to actually moonwalk. He surprisingly was a great dancer and had a decent singing voice. Jj got John’s ability to sing, the young boy was quite talented musically.

“You’re so weird!” Jj, your son walked into the kitchen and then stared at you in horror. All he wanted to know was when lunch would be ready, not witness his mother dancing like a fool.

His judgmental stare didn’t stop you. It simply made you dance in his direction and wave him over to join you. At twelve years old you would think he would have a sense of humor; but alas you were no longer funny. With a look of disgust he backed away from you.

“C’mon sing, dance with me.” You tried to grab him to dance with you and he practically jumped away from you.

“Ew! Stop! You’re so embarrassing!” The way he purposefully deepened his voice only egged you on.

“C’mon Jj, don’t be a spoil sport.” Evelyn your ten year old daughter slid into the kitchen on her lime green socked feet.

She then immediately broke out into the running man. She too looked just as awkward as you but was having a good time. Waving your son off, a duet between you and your daughter broke out in the kitchen. You both sounded horrible singing at the tops of your lungs and having a dance battle.

That was until the sound of gunshots rang out.

All three of you screamed. You had both your children by the collars of their shirts and yanked them to the floor with you. Jj banged his knee against the tile while Evelyn dropped like a sack of potato’s. The fancy speaker your husband John Price had gotten you for your birthday continued on. That song you loved so much coming to an end and rolling into an equally good one.

Your mind played tricks on you for a split second. It felt like sweltering heat of the desert sun, dry air, and smelling of your vanilla perfume and burnt coffee. The memory of the day you were kidnapped at a dig sight almost paralyzed you but the need to protect your children out weighed the flashback.

“Get in the basement, don’t make a sound. Go into my office and lock the door. I’m going to get Lily, do not open that door for anyone but me or your father.” You ordered your children. Your words left no room for discussion.

Putting your children behind your back you walked them to the basement door trying to shield them from the large open glass double doors that lead to your back yard. Your eyes scanned the area trying to see if anyone was there. The shots were so close it was clear to you they came from the woods in the distance of your property.

“Molly mum.” Jj softly whispered to you.

Your motherly instincts were in full swing as you rushed your children down the basement stairs. You could see Evelyn was so terrified she was shaking and you expected that from any child. Only your son was calm and collected, taking his sister’s hand and doing exactly what you said.

Sprinting upstairs you found your daughter still asleep in her bed for her nap. Thankfully your dog Molly was asleep with her. You grabbed Lily and her blanket, then clasped Molly by the collar and ran back downstairs. Halfway down the stairs you heard another gunshot ring out. This one was significantly closer to your home, sounding as if it came from the tree line of the nearby forest in your back yard. It made the air around you still, becoming suffocating and silence sounding deafening.

Lily was disoriented and struggled for you to put her down but you didn’t. You cooed and soothed her to the best of your ability. After a long moment of silence you then ran for the basement door at the back of the house.

The basement consisted of two rooms that were separated by a foundational wall that bisected your home. The first room was John’s office and home gym. The office with his mahogany desk, book shelves, and Cheshire couch were to the left of the stairs. Past that toward the back of the house was where his weights and other workout machinery was.

At the bottom of the stairs and straight ahead was the door to your office. It was a beautiful juniper green that had become weathered over time. Your office was rectangular like John’s but had much more space since it encompassed the front portion of your home. You had rugs from your travels laid out, the old dining room set, old living room couch, your desk, book cases, and other supplies so you could work from home.

On your decent into the basement, Molly brushed by you causing your foot to slip off that one stair that had a knack for taking you down. Your ass collided hard with the old wooden stair and you slid down the latter half of the stairs on your back. You kept Lily secure to your chest and ignored the pain of having fallen down the stairs.

Back on your feet and breathing heavily you were at the juniper green door that lead into your office. Knocking quietly you heard a squeak and something shuffle.

“It’s me. Open up.” You whispered. The lock clicked and the door opened soon after.

Jj looked at you with an expression you were accustom to seeing on his father’s face. Stoic, calm, under complete control of his emotions. Which was stranger for a twelve year old but he was his father’s son. You handed Jj Lily and he had to wrap both arms around her so her legs were dangling while you corralled Molly into your office. Jj took his youngest sister and brought her to the corner of your office where Evelyn was sitting with a large blanket.

Your children huddled together as your violently shaking hands took a chair and angled it under the door knob. You were then quietly searching the utility closet for something to wield in case you needed a weapon. After searching frantically you found your old baseball bat and stared at it for a moment.

Your breathing began to pick up as you looked at the light wood of the bat with scratches and chips in the laminate coating. Chest heaving, head pounding, and sweaty hands, you began to nod at the blunt object. You were preparing yourself to have to use this if someone broke in. Because no matter how terrified you felt in this moment you had to protect your children.

“Darling!” Your husband’s gruff voice called from upstairs. It was such a relief to hear him that you didn’t pick up on his jovial tone.

“Thank god.” The words tumbled out.

Leaning against the cool stone wall, that suffocating feeling began to dissipate gradually because John was here to protect you; more importantly protect your children. You knew nothing would hurt you or your children as long as John was here. You were so confident of that, you would bet your life on it. John being in the house had to mean he dealt with the gun shots from whoever was crazy enough to go on a shooting spree.

You took a centering breath so John wouldn’t judge you for how frantic you were. It was important to you that he was confident in your ability to keep your children safe. He had set so many precautions and you followed this one flawlessly; besides grabbing a gun from his safe. But the biggest caveat was, you were to stay calm at all times so you could be clear headed; and that wasn’t part of your nature. Opening the door once you felt a little more steady, you called up to John.

“Is it safe to come out?” You asked, voice still shaky.

There was a beat of silence as the basement door opened allowing a stream of warm afternoon light to flow down the old rickety stairs.

“Safe?” John’s boots loudly thudded against the stairs as he came halfway down. Ducking his head so he could see the room clearly he had a quizzical look on his face as you emerged from your office.

“Yeah. Did you not hear all that? Some lunatic was shooting in the forest behind the house.” You were completely exasperated with John for not knowing what you were talking about.

He was out there for Christ sake. For someone who was in the military you thought gun shots would be pretty distinctive. Or maybe he was so use to them he hardly noticed.

John stared at you blankly.

“Uh, that was me. Finally killed those damn foxes going after the chickens.” The words were raspy and unsure.

John hadn’t taken into consideration your reaction to hearing gunshots. He was much more concerned on keeping the chickens safe.

Another beat of silence.

“What is WRONG with you!?” You yelled so loud you made Lily shriek behind you.

“What? They killed another chicken this morning, making it three total.” John looked utterly perplexed by your outburst. You told him to keep the chickens safe, and now that he was you were mad at him.

“Go on you three. Everything’s fine. Your dad was the one shooting a GUN that close to the house.” Jj was snickering at his dad getting scolded by you. Meanwhile your girls were shaken up.

“Wicked dad. Can I come next time?” Jj was the first to emerge, all sparkly eyed and looking to his father.

“Of course you can. Not sure if your mum will string me up by the ankles for it.” The snarky comment had you doubling down.

“I told you to keep the chickens safe, not start killing wild animals trying to survive!” You half shrieked being unbelievably upset with John’s lack of gun safety with children around. John didn’t seem to take much notice to your outburst and went back upstairs with Jj.

“I think dad and Jj have gone mad.” Evelyn whispered to you and you agreed.

Lily was tugging on your shirt so you would picked her back up so you did. You crouched down and hugged your girls. It seemed like you three were the only ones reacting like human beings to this. After a good hug and some calming breaths you made sure they were both okay and headed upstairs. Once upstairs John tried to give you a kiss which you dodged. You went back to the kitchen and checked on lunch.

“Darling, I know you grew up in the city but huntings normal around here.” John chuckled at you.

He loved when you got like this; pouty and ready to give him a hard time. Seeing you all riled up over something he deemed as innocuous tickled him. You found John condescending in moments like this because he found you so utterly endearing that it dismissed your frustration with him.

“You’re a lunatic.” You said matter of factly.

“Not my fault you Americans have such shite gun laws you panic at the sound.” You did not appreciate John’s dig.

He was completely right though. If you weren’t from the States you wondered if you would have freaked out so intensely. To you, guns going off meant hide for cover because someone was trying to make the news.

“Put the gun away.” You ordered your husband who was still chuckling at you. He walked over to take his plate for lunch but you snatched it and took it away from him.

“Away. Now.” You demanded. Holding his food hostage seemed to do the trick because after an incredulous eye roll John went downstairs to put his gun in the safe.

“Where are the foxes?” Jj asked you as he took his plate off the counter.

“How would I know.” You gave Jj a flat look which made him grin.

Now he was teasing you and you did not appreciate his father’s influence on him. John was grinning as he came up the stairs, having heard Jj giving you a hard time. After ruffling the boys hair John spoke.

“On the patio.” John motioned to four dead foxes getting blood all over the stone.

“Ew.” Lily wiggled to be put down and ran to the open back door.

She stared at the foxes quietly. One of her hands was playing with her left pigtail while the other reached out aimlessly for anyone’s hand to hold. You were expecting a much larger reaction from her. Lily was soft and sweet, dead animals normally upset her. She cried for an hour once when there was a dead pigeon at the park. Yet seeing dead foxes didn’t seem to bother her.

“Which chicken did they get?” Evelyn asked now standing next to Lily and taking her hand, the two of them staring at the dead foxes.

“Why are none of you reacting to dead animals!? Am I in the twilight zone!?” Throwing your hands in the air you felt crazy.

Even Evelyn had no reaction. You were expecting her to go start poking them with a stick or asking a million questions. But none of your children were upset, they treated this like an ordinary thing. As if you told them about the weather and you couldn’t figure out why for the life of you.

“Pepper.” John’s response made Lily shriek at the top of her lungs. It had everyone but John jumping.

“NOT PEPPER!” Falling to her knees Lily started to hysterically cry while also screaming dramatically.

It looked as if she were melting into a puddle with her fingers laced in her hair and sapphire eyes streaming with tears. It was quite the performance, she was putting Leonardo DiCaprio to shame with this meltdown.

Pepper was Lily’s favorite chicken, so this was going to be tough. The reaction you expected for the dead foxes came in full swing at the news you all lost Pepper. Lily was shrill and inconsolable as Evelyn kneeled on the floor with her little sister and hugged her.

“You can handle all that.” You took your hand and motioned to Lily’s utter histrionics as your doorbell rang.

You had a sinking feeling one of your neighbors were here to ask what the hell was wrong with your husband. But when you opened the door it was so much worse.

“Hello ma’am. I’m Officer Parker.” The police officer at your front door seemed unamused to be here.

He was tall like John, but not as handsome. It was definitely a ‘type’ kind of thing because the man was still good looking. Officer Parker had dark silver hair and five o’clock shadow. Despite his hair color he couldn’t be older than John, he even looked a few years younger. The sharp jawline, thick eyebrows, and peachy skin paired well together. His hazel eyes were stern and serious like a man of the militaries would be; not what you assumed a police officer was like. He was slender with an athletic physique with muscles not as large as Johns but they were still prevalent in his uniform.

“Hi, Y/N Price.” You felt like you looked guilty and you did.

Lily’s screams echoed down the hallway making the officer look over your head trying to asses if everything was okay. Gun shots and a screaming child wasn’t a good look for your family.

“Gotten some reports of gun shots. Been told the man who lives here is military and wanted to make sure everything’s all right.” The officer sounded like he was already accusing you of something.

But then his hazel eyes softened for a second seeing you go from nervous to defeated. That’s when he noticed you were quite beautiful. There was a sweetness that naturally exuded off of you and those eyes of yours were almost as bright as the summer sun.

“John! Police are here for you.” You half yelled for your husband to come deal with this.

Hearing you call for a man had the officer feeling somewhat deflated. He knew a man in the military lived here but was hoping he was of no relation to you. There was a small hope you were a guest of this home, not the mother of that screaming child and wife to the oaf shooting a gun for god knows why.

As you turned and waited for the man you called, Officer Parker took in your appearance. You were dressed in cute little black athletic shorts that ended just after the plump roundness of your bum. Your baby blue t-shirt was loose everywhere but your chest, fitting nicely over the curve of your breasts. With your hair tied back he could see the slender curve of your neck and that even from behind you were utterly gorgeous.

John appeared walking down the hallway towards the front door. Officer Parker wanted to roll his eyes at the sight of Captain Price. Of course this man had to be big, bold, and British. He looked like the type of rugged man that would have a woman like you swooning over him.

“She’s gonna need to cry it out.” John nodded his head towards Lily who could now be seen at the end of the hallway next to the kitchen, lying on her back. She was crying up at the ceiling with her small hands over her face.

“Pepper.” The guttural cries continued to echo down the hall as Lily called for her deceased chicken.

“She okay?” Officer Parker asked you.

“Yeah. Her favorite chicken got eaten by some foxes and she taking the news pretty hard.” Scratching the back of your head you gave the officer an apologetic smile.

God, he found you beautiful. Few words were exchanged but you were endearing and kind; that was obvious. There was something about you that was magnetic and had him enamored although no one could tell.

“How can we help you?” John was picking up on a strange vibe but wasn’t sure what it was. The officer at his door was as stoic as himself and John wasn’t sure how he felt about that.

“Hello sir. Reports of gunshots, know anything about it?” Without missing a beat officer Parker was back to the task at hand.

“Shot a couple foxes that were killing my chickens.” John spoke matter of factly, not knowing why that warranted police to show up.

“DADDY!!! PEPPER!!” Lily screamed in John’s direction but John ignored her. You couldn’t get yourself to respond either. Lily needed to work this one out since you and John were busy.

“Do you have a license.” The officer lightly chuckled at the little girl having an absolute meltdown over a chicken.

“Here.” Reaching into his back pocket John grabbed his wallet and handed over his hunting license.

Looking it over carefully, Officer Parker then leaned to the side to look between you and John. Down the hall he now saw two older children trying to console their hysterical little sister. The older little girl grabbed her smaller sister’s ankles while the boy grabbed her arms. They picked her up like a rag doll and carried her out of sight.

“No more shooting. Got it?” Keeping his eyes cast down the hall Officer Parker then saw the pile of dead foxes on your patio. Now with the story corroborated he handed John his hunting license back.

“Why!?” John’s strong reaction made your jaw drop.

What did he mean ‘why’?

“It’s a residential area. There are families and children around. Don’t do it again.” Officer Parker spoke evenly but you could tell he didn’t see why he even had to explain this.

“So the next time foxes are killing my chickens I just let them?” John was indignant and heating up to argue with the officer.

“Build a taller fence.” The response was short and to the point.

It was a fair response that had you nodding in agreeance. John didn’t respond but shut the door in the officers face. The abrupt reaction made you gasp.

“That was rude.” You were shocked at John’s curt behavior. John ignored you and locked the door. The look on his face was mean with his eyebrows knit together and lips fixed in a tight line.

“You know, for someone who’s a Captain in the military you’ve got a real problem with authority.” Challenging your husband didn’t seem to affect him as he moved to go check on the crying that was now off in the distance for some reason.

“I should be able to shoot on my own damn property.” John threw the comment over his shoulder.

“You have to know how ridiculous you sound.” You laughed in disbelief.

Opening the front door back up you saw the officer heading back to his car.

“Sorry about him! It won’t happen again!” You called to the man and waved goodbye.

That seemed to tickle Officer Parker because he smiled and laughed. The seriousness from before seemed to fade in your presence. He looked handsome with a smile and not so stern. There was a charming nature about him, one that was disarming and alluring.

“Keep him in line. I’d hate to come out here again.” The joke felt a bit flirtatious but you ignored that and waved goodbye.

You weren’t sure he’d hate having to stop by again from the way he spoke. A little flirting was a good ego boost especially in a harmless moment like this. It’s not like you’d ever see the man again.

Turning back, John had his eyes cut at you. You thought he would’ve been in the kitchen at this point but he clearly was suspicious of you.

“And you have an inclination for men of authority.” There was an accusation in those words that you decided to ignore.

“I do. But apparently I like gun wielding lunatics.” The cheeky comment got you a firm smack to the ass that made you yelp in surprise.

“As you should.” John’s flirtation was a lot more successful than the officers. It left you giving him a kiss and then ordering him to build a taller fence.

“Build a taller fence and please don’t do that again. Our neighbors probably hate us.” As you spoke John nudged you with his shoulder which had you instantly wrapping yourself around his muscular arm.

“Darling, I have a gun. They’re too scared to hate us.” The joke had you rolling your eyes. John chucked and kissed the top of your head sweetly.

Walking into your kitchen you saw your two oldest children sitting at the kitchen table eating their lunch. They were chatting about who would take the dead foxes, Ghost or Soap. You could faintly hear Lily crying but she was no where in sight.

“Where’s your sister?” John asked, he didn’t seem too worried as he started eating his own lunch while he brought it to the table.

“Laundry room.” Evelyn pointed at the shut laundry room door at the corner of the kitchen next to the pantry.

“What!?” You dashed for the laundry room to find your four year old lying in a basket of clean towels, hugging one to her chest and lightly sobbing while she whispered Pepper’s name.

“We couldn’t enjoy our lunch with her screaming like that.”

——————

“Hello, Mrs. Price.” The same officer as last time was at your door again.

He had a charming smile, seemingly amused to see you. The summer day was a lot hotter than the last. This left you trying anything to beat the heat. You had just slipped your two piece bathing suit on under your crop top and bicycle shorts. A dip in the pond would be nice and you promised Lily she could swim with you.

“I’m so sorry.” You sighed heavily already knowing why he was here.

“Where is he?” The officer also seemed annoyed by John but not by you.

It was a surprise to Officer Parker to be back at your house not even two days later. Normally he’d hate having to have a repeat visit, but not with you. The fact you seemed so displeased with your husband would hopefully bode well for him; because he wanted to make a pass before he left here today. He wanted to see if the stereotype of military wives being lonely and unsatisfied was true.

“I don’t think he’ll be coming to the door.” You spoke meekly.

John made it crystal clear last night that those foxes killing the chickens had it coming. You bent his ear about gun safety but it clearly didn’t get through to him. He ended up shutting you up with some groveling on his knees and mouth between your thighs.

“Well I need to speak to him.” By the way the officer spoke you could tell he would rather not, but unfortunately he had to do his job.

“He’s around back.” You stepped out onto the porch and motioned with your hand.

You did not want to deal with this. John got himself into this mess and he could deal with it on his own.

“A woman like you’s okay with him shooting while you have young children around?” The officer seemed to be trying to get you on his side.

You agreed with him but there was a twinkle in his eye you caught on to. He fancied you, and you could tell. Although you had no interest and were clearly married that didn’t stop the subtle flirting.

You were flattered but weren’t going to give him anymore attention than necessary. It was funny to you because he reminded you of Soap, in that charming lovable kind of way. And like Soap, Officer Parker seemed capable of getting laid by any other woman who wasn’t you.

“No, but they think it’s cool. We’ve got one chicken left standing and they want their dad to protect Nancy at all cost.” You shrugged not sure what else to say. You’d lost this battle with John as soon as the children took his side.

“Nancy?” He asked with a snort.

“My middle named her.” You smiled softly.

“And the others?” The officer was intrigued what other names your chickens had.

“Well they’re all dead now. But it was Pepper, Match Box, Dinner, and Pancake.” Leaning against the front door frame you gave into having a chat instead of doing some proofreading for work.

“Dinner?” The officer let out a loud laugh. He was hoping you were the one to come up with that name. It would mean you were funny and gorgeous.

“Yeah, that was my husband.” You snickered.

Officer Parker’s laughter died down, no longer finding the name funny.

“Speaking of, going to give him a last warning.” Taking a step back Officer Parker was about to head around your house to scold your husband.

“Good luck with that.” You meant it, John had his heels dug in on this one.

“Think he’ll listen.” With a smirk the officer asked you. The look slowly slid off his face at your lack of response.

You stared at him, mulling over his question. The officer watched your eyes glaze over for a moment as if you were lost in a memory. You stayed like that, spaced out, until he cleared his throat and you seemingly snapped back into reality.

“What was the question?” You asked.

You had been searching your brain for a time John listened to someone willingly, who wasn’t you. John didn’t like being told what to do unless he agreed with what it was. Still he could be obstinate if rubbed the wrong way but usually came around when it was you asking. And even then he tended to do what he thought best and ignored you when he wanted to. John didn’t take well to rules or orders which was surprising that he wound up in the military.

“Never mind. Fine if I go around back.” Pointing toward your yard Officer Parker began to jog down the front stairs.

“Yeah, go ahead.” With a heavy sigh you went to shut your front door.

“Oh, and ma’am I completely forgot to mention. I saw a young man in his mid twenties rummaging through your mail box. He said he was family.” Officer Parker walked back to the bottom of your staircase as he told you.

“What’d he look like? Got a Mohawk?” You were taken aback and stepped back out on your front porch.

“No, Mohawk. Black hair, nondescript, buggy looking eyes. He seemed a bit off, barely blinked- which was odd.” He told you casually. It was assumed you would know exactly who he was talking about.

“No. Doesn’t sound like any family of mine. My husband’s the better person to ask.” Finding this out had your forehead creasing from stress.

The last thing you needed was some creep sniffing around your children. John would go ballistic and definitely threaten someone with his gun if not blow their brains out.

“Said his last name was- ah bloody hell I can’t remember. It just wasn’t Price.” Running his finger through his hair Officer Parker tried to remember the last name he was given.

“Was it Y/L/N?” You asked.

“Yes, it was.” With a snap of his fingers Parker pointed to you.

“Fuck, that’s my maiden name. I don’t get any mail with that name anymore so I don’t know how anyone would know that.” This was officially creeping you out. No one here knew your maiden name besides the people at work.

“Strange. Keep an eye out. I will too.” The fact officer Parker didn’t seem too worried didn’t help you.

If anything you would want the police worried about a strange man going through people’s mailboxes in a neighborhood with a lot of children. Especially since your maiden name was used, it meant this person was looking for you or your children. Nothing like this had ever happened around here before. So you made a mental note to text a few of your neighbors to give them a heads up. You just hoped they didn’t call you out for the gun shots.

“Thank you.” You tried to sound calm although you felt a tightness in your chest.

“Of course, ma’am.” Giving you a cordial smile Parker went to go confront your husband.

The walk to the far right corner of your property was much farther than Officer Parker realized. Your property was huge now that he had a better look. Your red farm house sat atop a hill far from the street. To the right was your driveway and a sloping hill your kids would sled down in the winter. Once at the back of your house there were acres of land including a pond and forest.

The forest ran from the front of your property and surrounded it on all sides. The land behind your house was about the size of three soccer fields until it reached the pond that was to the far left and down a slight slope. There was even land around the pond but it was surrounded by tall grass in those areas showing how your family and children tended to not go over there.

In the far right corner near the edge of the woods was the chicken coop surrounded by a low estate styled fence. It was no wonder the chickens were being picked off by foxes with the coop being that close to the forest. Once over there Officer Parker got a better view of John Price and his three children around the coop. There was an old beat up truck a few yards away with the bed opened and a bunch of empty crates. A man with a Mohawk was taking the dead fox and tossing them into the bed and closing things up.

“Captain Price, there’s been another complaint about guns going off.” Officer Parker called from a distance away as he approached.

John looked up from the center of the fenced in area around the coop where he had just placed a white chicken down. John was dressed in dirty jeans that had a layer of dust and dirt on them. His white long sleeve matched the dirt of his jeans along with his brown work gloves. There was a faded beige boonie hat that sat atop his head that Officer Parker thought looked ridiculous.

“Why are you on my property?” John half demanded to know. He knew why but was not about to admit to it.

John’s two little girls stared intently at the police officer. Meanwhile Jj was spreading feed for the new chickens not paying him any mind. This was the first good look Officer Parker was getting at your children. The boy was a spitting image of his father while your middle was your mini me. The youngest who was pretending like he didn’t exist was a good mix of you and your husband. She looked like John in the eyes and nose but had your lips, hair type, and shorter stature. She also seemed more like you than either of her siblings, there was a natural sweetness to her. Whereas the two older seemed a lot like their father purely based off the way they sized Officer Parker up a he got closer. This only proved the Officer knew very little about you. Your kids could be spitfires, clever, and cheeky which they had inherited from you.

“OoOoooO, you’re in trouble.” Evelyn teased her father.

“I wanna name that one Salt!” Lily was pointing at the all white hen John had bought to replace her favorite one who died; Pepper. Her hand was stuck through a hole in the chicken wire and she quickly pulled it back when one of the chickens tried to peck her.

“No, Nancy! You have to behave.” Lily scolded the tawny brown chicken who then stared her down.

“Daddy. Nancy’s looking at me funny.” Lily whined which made her father chuckle.

“Don’t mess with her Lily. She’ll take your fingers off if given the chance.” The teasing tone put a frown on the little girl face. Soon enough she was hiding behind her big sister who was beaming like the sun.

“She’s my favorite.” Evelyn pointed to Nancy as she spoke to Officer Parker.

“The mean one’s your favorite?” Soap asked with a boisterous laugh. Evelyn shook her head proudly.

“Of course she is Suds!” Evelyn giggled while she bounced up and down.

“Well, I’m gonna head out. You three better get in to as much trouble as you can while I’m gone.” Soap pointed at the Price children who all gave him giant smiles.

“Tell Leena we say hello. Oh, and stop sleeping with Y/N friends, I think she’s getting ready to murder you.” John chuckled as he tried to convince Soap of something you had been on his case about.

With a laugh Soap waved Price off and got into his truck. The Price children yelled their goodbyes and Soap honked a few times as he drove off. Lily started to tear up at Soaps departure since he was one of her favorite people.

“Why are you here?” John asked the officer again but his focus was on the sniffling four year old. John walked over and whispered something to her that seemed to cheer her up.

“Your wife told me you were back here.” Officer Parker spoke to John but had his attention stolen as Lily ran to the back pack Soap left behind and fished through it.

“Traitor.” John mumbled under his breath. A second later Lily was running back with candy bars. She stopped and meekly offered a Milky bar to the police officer. That one was her least favorite but she wasn’t going to tell him that.

“Please don’t be cross with my daddy.” She whispered so quietly it was barely audible and then ran off back to her big sister. They tore into the different candy bars while Officer Parker slid the sweet into his back pocket for later.

“Have you seen anyone lurking around your property, Captain Price?” The question had John perking up.

“No.” John didn’t break eye contact.

There was no way someone would be lurking around John’s property without him knowing. Normally it would never happen but it was especially true now with how vigilant John had been due to the foxes.

“Any of you see anyone you don’t know? Or even a neighbor who doesn’t usually stop by hanging around?” Looking at the young children’s faces they were clearly searching their memories for anything like that.

“When I took Molly for a walk this morning I saw Mr. Patterson at the mailbox. Mum said he wrote us a nasty note yesterday so I thought he was leaving another and avoided him like you told me to.” Jj looked at John and recounted this to the officer.

John was shocked by that. He didn’t know about any nasty note or that Jj had seen their neighbor at the house. Mr. Patterson was not a fan of your family, in fact John would go as far as to say the man hated you all. He was an older man whose nephew lived with him and took care of him and his property.

You told John that the nephew gave you the creeps. It was to the point you and John advised your children to steer clear of him. That they were never to stop and chat or go near that house. Nothing had truly ever happened but even John saw what you were talking about. The young man was odd and John didn’t like the way he stared at Evelyn one time when John and her went for a walk around the neighborhood.

“I told your wife but a young man in his mid to early twenties who was going through your mailbox. Claimed to be related to your wife.” Officer Parker reiterated.

“Dark hair, looks like he could be anybody, and crazy fucking eyes?” John asked. He used his pointer and middle finger to aggressively gesture to his own eyes.

“I see you know exactly who I’m talking about.” The men shared a knowing look as if to say they agreed that this man had to be trouble.

“Patterson’s nephew. You probably want to keep an eye on him.” John told him. Officer Parker nodded in understating.

“I saw him too.” Lily spoke quietly.

That was a lot more alarming to John than Jj seeing anything. Lily was four and you two hardly let her out of your sight. How on earth did she see the nephew and John and you hadn’t?

“Where?” John asked trying not to sound forceful so Lily wouldn’t clam up.

“The shop! Mummy was talking to Siobhan’s mummy about uncle Soap never calling her back. I think they had a sleepover or something. Siobhan’s mummy was really sad about it. I think she-“ John cut Lily’s tangent off.

“What did Patterson’s nephew do?” It was hard not to laugh at all the unnecessary details Lily offered up.

“He waved at me.” Lily recounted the memory at the shop from a few days ago.

“What did you do?” John had to push down the anger building up knowing, that creep had waved to his daughter.

“Cried.” Lily spoke matter of factly as she took another bite of her sweet.

That checked out. John remembered you saying Lily had a meltdown at the shop because someone looked at her funny. It must’ve been the neighbor.

“Dad can we name that one Patrick.” Evelyn interrupted and pointed to a brown hen while snacking on a chocolate bar.

“Hens are girls.” The officer informed her.

“So?” She cocked her head to the side confused.

“Hey!” Lily whined when John took a sneaky bite of her candy.

“Salt and Patrick it is. That one will be Butter.” John spoke with his mouth full and pointed to a honey colored hen. He thought it best to move on so his children wouldn’t get spooked. You and him could talk about this later.

“Butter?” The officer looked at John wondering where that name came from.

“Butter chicken.” Jj started laughing until he was bent over and trying to catch his breath.

“Jj you get to name the last one.” Nodding his head toward the last white hen John waited for Jj’s name for it.

“Mum wanted to name hers Pudding.” With a smile Jj offered some feed in his hand to Pudding.

“Okay, we have Salt, Patrick, Butter, and Pudding.” John pointed in order of chickens and their names.

It was comical watching how your family behaved. As serious and unfriendly as John was he was very accommodating and sweet to his children. It was night and day how he treated Officer Parker versus you and your children. It was a horrible example on how to treat police but John wasn’t the biggest fan anyway.

“Gonna have to ask you to stop with shooting foxes.” Finally getting to the point Officer Parker was stern in the way he spoke.

“Okay.” Waving the man off John grabbed Jj and placed him on the other side of the fence by his sisters.

“What!? Do you want our chickens dead?” Evelyn turned to the officer in shock. She went from looking sweet to ready to murder.

“Noooo daddy has to protect Salt!” Lily shrieked.

“Gimmie the sweet back!” Lily demanded with her hand outstretched, as if this punishment would change the man’s mind.

“I don’t want to come out here again.” Officer Parker warned John while handing the candy bar back.

“We can agree on that.” John’s snarkiness was hard to not push back against.

“No shooting.” Pointing his finger at John, Officer Parker ordered him.

“I shot this one.” Jj smiled cheerily thinking that would get the officer off his father’s back.

“Say that again.” Turning slowly the officer looked mortified.

In no universe did he expect that as a response. What on earth would posses a parent to put a gun in their child’s hands. No wonder you were so fed up with your husband; he had to be crazy.

“Lads just taking the piss. I wouldn’t be irresponsible enough to put a gun in the hands of a child.” John reassured the man as he lied.

Jj took that fox out in two shots, the first one missing completely and the second being right on target. John made Jj swear to secrecy to never tell you or they’d end up like those foxes when you found out.

There was a long pause. The officer couldn’t quite tell if this was sarcasm or honesty. John was unreadable.

“Alright. This will go a lot differently if I have to come out here again.” Another warning fell on deaf ears.

“Do you want some eggs? We can give you as many as you want if you let our dad take care of those nasty foxes. If you don’t there will be no eggs to give you Mister Police man.” Evelyn spoke oh so sweetly.

“Are you bribing a police officer?” The question was forceful and Evelyn immediately felt like she was in trouble. So she hummed and pretend to not hear him and went back to eating her chocolate bar.

“My kids have a cheeky sense of humor.” John chortled, trying to deflect. He found them hilarious but knew their humor wouldn’t be appreciated right now.

“Your wife seems to be the only sensible one out of you lot. No shooting, no bribing, and for the love of god don’t make me come back here.” Officer Parker got louder as he spoke until he was almost shouting.

“Okay.” John gave the man a contemptuous nod.

“Bloody ridiculous.” The officer mumbled as he walked away.

On his way to leave the officer saw you on your back patio. You were hosing something off. The distance allowed him to admire you for a few moments longer. You were barefoot in black bicycle shorts today with a cropped white t-shirt with the AC/DC logo on the front. It showed off just above your bellybutton and part of your ribs. He was noticing that you had tattoos which he seemed to miss the last time he saw you. That fact had you going from gorgeous to sexy in a flash.

“Howd it go?” You asked as the officer passed by the patio

“Your children take after him? One claimed to have shot that fox and the other tried to bribe me.” The frustrating encounter was shared in a lighthearted way.

“Made it out lucky. Usually the little one takes a bite out of people.” It felt good to hear someone speak fondly of your children. They had the unfortunate effect of rubbing people the wrong way a lot of the time.

“You’ve got quiet the family.” The brightness coming off of him was more from having a conversation with you. His words did not match the sentiment of how he felt towards your family; which was detached.

“They keep it interesting.” Speaking sweetly, you took his words at face value. Thinking that he admired your children and you could tell in turn he admired you.

Officer Parker, who had been thinking of you often now had the chance he’d been craving. With a charming smirk and running his fingers through his thick hair he geared up to attempt to sweet talk you. He knew he was handsome and charming so he planned on using those to his advantage. You were far from the first married woman he had seduced.

“I dont mean to overstep. I can see how unpleasant your husband is, if you ever want a little less stress in your life I’d love to take y-“ You waved your hand assertively for the officer to stop.

“Don’t. I’m happily married.” You instantly knew where this was going and nipped it in the bud. You couldn’t help the sour expression that took over.

There was no way you were crossing that line and if John found out, he would kill him. You were instantly upset. You thought you had made a friend, but unfortunately, this police officer was making a pass at you. The unfortunate fact was, men tended to disappoint you in this way, instead of looking for friendship they looked for a shag.

“Of course. My apologies.” Officer Parker felt himself flush with embarrassment. Leaving quickly was the best plan of action. So he nodded and went on his way.

“Lucky bastard. John would’ve hunted his ass down if he heard that.” Shaking your head you made your way over to the chicken coop. You were contemplating on whether you told your husband or not. You decided against it, John already hated the man enough.

——————

“Mrs. Price I can’t believe I’m here again.”

“I swear he wasn’t shooting this time.” You gave the same officer a meek smile.

You were absolutely fed up with this situation. You hadn’t heard any gun shots so now you were starting to think one of your neighbors was out to get you. Or that this officer couldn’t take the hint that you weren’t interested.

With the look Officer Parker was giving you, you thought it was the latter. You were in a floral blue sundress since it was just you and John home today. The waist was cinched, accenting your curves while the skirt was loose and flowed down to mid thigh. It was your subtle attempt of getting John all over you with these thin straps and low cut neckline. You weren’t expecting any interruption but this didn’t count since John hadn’t caught sight of you yet.

The officer seemed to notice your outfit and how your hair was tied back neatly to show off your neck and shoulders. It was also to keep your hair out of your face in case John had you on your knees. You felt gross at the officers flickering eyes down to your exposed legs and then cleavage.

Crossing your arms over your chest and letting out an annoyed huff the officer seemed to snap out of it. He was embarrassed to have been caught staring especially after being rejected the last time he was here. His ogling was fast and if you hadn’t been standing face to face you doubt you would have noticed. He was still kicking himself for even asking you out and how unprofessional he acted. After the last time he was here and the pass he made at you, you no longer liked him and he could tell. So he decided to stop treating you special and went back to acting like he normally did toward any civilian.

“I don’t believe you. Your family is becoming a real pain in my ass.” The coarse remark had your hackles raising. It was a large shift from his wandering eyes admiring you to then insulting you and your family.

“Fine.” You spoke with evenness yet there was an undertone of frustration.

You weren’t some soft docile house wife this man clearly thought you were. So you shut the door in the officers face. You didn’t need him being so rude to you when you had been nothing but accommodating. It wasn’t your fault your husband wouldn’t listen. If you could have things your way you’d kick this guy off your property and then drag John upstairs because you’d much rather have his gorgeous blues on you.

The doorbell rang several times before you opened it again. Swinging the door open you greeted him with a cheery smile as if this was the first time he’d ever knocked on your door. Officer Parker held on to that indignant look then rolled his eyes as you played pretend nice.

“Hi. Wanna try that again?” You felt like a brat right now, speaking oh so sweetly, but you were honestly sick of this guy showing up and your husband wielding a gun.

“I’m going to have to bring him in.” The officer told you which made you snort.

“Good luck with that.” You joked then went to shut the door again. His large hand smacked against the thick wood stoping you from ending the conversation.

“Ma’am, are you eluding to the fact your husband is going to resist arrest?” Peering at you through his eyebrows he asked seriously.

This guy was a piece of work and you wanted to give him as hard of a time as you felt he was giving you.

“Ever heard of a joke?” With a monotone tone you volleyed back his retort.

Silence took over as you both held eye contact. Officer Parker didn’t know what to say without getting a smart ass remark from you and you were prepared to be a little shit. If he thought John was difficult he had no idea who he was dealing with now.

“This family seems to be full of them. Now where is he?” The officer demanded.

He wasn’t wrong there. Your family were a bunch of smart asses who didn’t shy away from giving people a hard time. It wasn’t just John who resisted authority, it was you too. Thinking anyone could boss you around or show up at your door demanding things was comical. Once upon a time you would’ve teamed up with this guy to get your husband to stop with the guns. But now? Absolutely not, you’d cover for John in every possible way purely because you didn’t like this guy.

“Go on. He’s around back.” You motioned with your hand.

Making a point to wave your hand to put the large rock on your ring finger in this man’s face. Officer Parker grunted in reply, catching on to your dismissal of his advances. He stomped down your stairs and went to make his way to the back of your home.

“Oh, and again. . .” You waited for the officer to turn around and look at you from the bottom of the stairs of your front porch.

“He wasn’t shooting this time. The man would be signing divorce papers if that were the case. And he’s not that stubborn.” Before you could hear a response you shut the front door and then ran like hell to the back patio.

John was standing at the picnic table dressed in dirty old jeans, an army green t-shirt with a half burnt cigar tucked between his teeth. He had thrown a burlap tarp over the table and laid out a bunch of tools used to fix his cherry red convertible. Jumping down the two steps to the patio you ran straight into John. It was like colliding with a brick wall the way he didn’t budge and was made of stone. He chuckled deeply at your urgency, his chest rumbling at how endearing he found you.

“John give me that- that cops here and said he was going to arrest you.” You immediately started groping your husband trying to find the gun on his waist.

Going as far as shoving your hand down the back of his jeans to check for a gun. John jumped at your wandering hand in his trousers and had to grab you by the wrists to get you to stop grabbing at him.

“Victoria backfired, love. I didn’t shoot anything.” John started belly laughing. His deep voice sounded lower as he spoke with the cigar still tightly between his teeth.

“oh.” You visibly relaxed.

“Plus, I’ve learned to use a silencer now and you haven’t caught on so theres no way that prick has either.” Letting you go John went back to searching through his tools that were neatly laid out.

He paused, it looked like a lightbulb buzzed to life above his head, something had just occurred to him. Looking back at you with a pensive expression, you expected John to tell you something important; but he didn’t. John’s large hand came over to you and tugged at the neckline of your dress and pulled it toward him so he could peak down at your breasts.

“John!” Your jaw dropped and again your husband’s burly chest rumbled with laughter.

“No bra? Trying to tell me something, darling?” That charming smirk had you sputtering like an idiot; he was right on the money.

This outfit was indeed a statement. You still had trouble handling how hot John was when he flirted with you like this. That cocky confidence could get whatever he wanted out of you.

“Captain Price, I told you I didn’t want to be back h- holy shit is that an Aston Martin?” The officer stopped in the middle of your driveway realizing the car that sat at the end with the hood popped was in fact a 1965 Aston Martin. John removed his hand from your dress and left you with a firm squeeze to your left breast. The officer was too distracted to notice.

“No.” John lied as he grabbed some tool you would never be able to identify. All you could tell was it was metal, shiny, and round on the end.

“Piss off, that is-“

“Why are you on my property? To gawk at my car and chat up my wife? Or maybe gawk at my wife and chat ‘bout my car.” Taking a long drag from his cigar John stared down the officer.

That seemed to instantly piss the officer off. You didn’t have to tell John that you had caught this man’s eye. John noticed it from the very start. So now it was John’s opportunity to flex and show off just how lucky of a man he was.

“I’ll have to take you in for shooting a gun in a residential area. I tried to warn you-“

John had walked over to his car and turned the key in the ignition. A loud bang echoed through the open air that sounded like a gun shot. It was now occurring to the officer that the call that came about a single gun shot was in fact this car back firing.

All Officer Parker could think was how this prick John Price was a lucky bastard.

“Fixing my car. That a crime?” John was enjoying himself way too much.

Smoking his cigar with his signature hat and looking smug suited him. Sexy didn’t begin to describe how attractive you found your husband in this moment. That smudge of grease on his neck only added to the rugged man he was. Bulging biceps, chiseled frame, tanned skin from working in the yard; you wanted to mount that smug smirk.

“Are you armed right now?” Officer Parker stepped on to your patio his eyes wandering to the cherry red convertible for a moment.

With a quirked eyebrow John looked at you and then to the officer.

“You can frisk me if ya’d like.” Throwing his arms out John motioned for the officer to come over.

“Yes, please-“ You slapped your hand over your own mouth for saying that.

Both men turned and gave you surprised looks.

“I’m sorry- I- wasn’t suppose to say that out loud.” Your entire body flushed with embarrassment for having no filter. You blamed John for this. You weren’t sure how it was his fault but you’d figure that out later.

“Later, darling.” John shot you and wink. He had you feeling like a teenager gushing over her crush. If he blew a kiss at you it would’ve knocked you over.

The cheeky comment had you stifling a laugh while the officer kept a cool demeanor. Watching you and your husband flirt was not on his agenda today. In fact he was suppose to be looking into the man who was going through mailboxes since he was in the neighborhood.

“Well, the call was a mistake. I’ll be on my way. let me know if you seen anything suspicious about the man lurking around.” With a nod officer Parker made a move to leave but once again was distracted by John’s car.

“Who’s been making the complaints.” John asked while pulling his cigar from his teeth and asking.

“I can’t disclose that.” The officer gave John a sharp look for the question. He continued on his way not wanting to deal with either of you anymore.

“Not even for a ride.” John nodded at his car.

“Do anything for a ride.” You mumbled under your breath to yourself. John didn’t catch it but the officer glanced at you from the corner of his eye.

“Is this where your daughter learned to bribe an officer!?” He turned back around and barked.

“He’s joking. Right, John?” Your pushing had John raising his hands by his shoulder, chuckling deeply then taking a drag of his cigar.

“‘Course I am. We know it’s the Patterson’s. You keeping an eye on the nephew like you said? ” The lack of response to John spoke volumes.

“Good day.” The officer forcefully spoke before leaving.

John chuckled as the officer left and then slammed the hood of the car back in place. Glancing over his shoulder John caught sight of you giving him big innocent eyes and a shy smile. Your arms were behind your back leaving John’s eyes to wander to your cleavage in that little sundress that drove him mad.

The prospect of having some privacy had you pouncing at the opportunity. Now it was your time to shine and get the attention you craved from your husband. So you flirted like a slag and decided some role play would be fun. John the mechanic and you some damsel who forgot her wallet.

“Thank you for fixing my car, sir. I don’t have any money but I’m willing to repay you in other ways.” You flirted shamelessly with John.

A thick eyebrow quirked and his lips turned skyward at your forward advances. The thick hair of his mutton chops looked tantalizing in the afternoon sunlight. You were drinking him in like a cool glass of tea on this hot summer day.

“I’ll take payment in full.” That deep British accent made you weak in the knees.

You let out a yelp as John grabbed you and man handled you. He had you perched on the hood of his car with his hands under your skirt and dragging your panties down. His hands were rough against your soft skin and that confidence from before only grew and surrounded you. It felt like he was going to eat you alive and savor every bite.

“John the officer hasn’t left.” The sound of your quiet squeal was muffled by the officers car door thudding shut.

“Just want him to know how good I’ve got it. A house, family, classic car, and a wife who’ll let me fuck her on the hood of said car.” John all but purred against your neck as he laid open mouth kisses over the shallow teeth marks he left behind.

“John, you’re gonna get us in trouble. And I’m not going to let you fuck me on the hood of the car. Not with some creep wandering around the neighborhood?” You giggled when he snapped the band of your panties against your thighs where he had dragged them halfway down.

A tingling sensation ran up your spine but it wasn’t from your excitement. In a flash you felt watched, like two eye were boring into you. It was a visceral reaction that you instantly felt like prey. Looking to your left you stared into the forest. It no longer looked like it always did but had this darkness seeping out from it. And for a second you swore you saw something shift behind a tree. Blinking a few times you decided your eyes were playing tricks on you. No way would someone be watching you with John here and a cop sitting in your driveway.

Both men were too distracted by you to notice your eyes locked on something in the forest. All the officer could see was John’s broad shoulders and back. That and the exposed skin of your knees and shins on either side of the massive frame of your husband. It wasn’t lewd from this angle but it was clear what John was saying without words.

She’s Mine

“C’mon darling, we won’t get caught. You know he thinks you’re pretty. Especially in this little dress. Let me rub it in.” There was a dark chuckle that followed John’s sultry words.

He pulled down the strap of your dress so it hung limply off your shoulder and exposed how you weren’t wearing a bra. The action had that sinking feeling in your gut intensifying. John wasn’t the only man looking at you right now. There was no way to prove it, you could just feel it. You gulped down the rock in your throat not wanting to make a big deal on what you were chalking up to anxiety.

Turning to look at the officer, John and him shared an intense look. It was one of pride for John and jealousy on the officers end. John smiled like the smug bastard he was and waved goodbye. The officer didn’t look away as he started his engine and you hid behind John, feeling utterly embarrassed by your husband’s audacity. He was waving you around like some prize he won.

You made eye contact for only a brief moment over John’s shoulder when he dipped down to pick you up and bring you inside. There was no doubt Officer Parker officially hated the Price family but in the second your eyes met he saw your fear. He wondered why all of a sudden you looked like that and if your husband was someone who scared you. This made him hate your husband for being so arrogant. It was clear John was about to bed you and have his way, which was only insult to injury for the officer. But now he wondered if something else was going on.

You just hoped the next time John started shooting foxes it would scare off whoever had been lurking around the neighborhood.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Next Chapter: Secret Admirer

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[bratbarzal]

The Secret of Us (LH43) 1/3

aka the sequel to let it happen

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 21k (oops)

I felt it, you held it, do you miss us? wonder if you regret the secret of us.

General Warnings: angst (lol), a severe lack of proofreading, mentions of injuries, a couple of angsty flashbacks with avoidant behaviour and fade to black type smut

A/N: just want to say thank you guys for liking this so much 💖 seeing all the comments and the messages and people recommending this to others and the sweet things you're all saying (even if I betrayed you lol) made me so unbelievably happy!!! I could never let these two go out like that, I enjoy writing this dynamic way too much, and I also have way too much discussing this fic with people!! shoutout to the let it happen film club lmao!!! I hope you guys enjoy this sequel, and I hope it lives up to LIH, they really are my babies!!

and I know what you're thinking, maggie how could we ever trust you again after let it happen??? you can't!! and you shouldn't!!! but I wouldn't do that to you twice.

or would I???

I wouldn't 😌

OR WOULD I?!?!?!?! 😏

You need to start getting more comfortable saying no to people.

It’s something you tell yourself all the time, that being a people pleaser is going to lead to your downfall - it’s something you’ve always known.

So why you would ever possibly agree to attend a football game with your sorority sisters after weeks of hiding away in the safety of your childhood bedroom, you have no idea. You’ve spent the last 4 weeks alone convincing yourself to grow a backbone, and you’ve only been back in town a week. 7 whole days and your resolve has crumbled to pieces.

And now you’re squeezing yourself through a crowd of sweaty, yelling men to find your seat in the cramped spaces of Michigan Stadium, after already being packed like a clown into the back of your friend Molly’s car, and your head is throbbing, already.

A football game.

You at a football game.

It’s absurd.

Dressed in team colours with a ridiculous yellow M painted on your cheek like you’re some sort of local.

It’s your own version of a living hell, and you can’t wait for it to be over.

“Are you guys always sat this low?” You yell out to Molly as the rest of your friends amble in, surrounded now on all sides with no way out.

“Aren’t the seats, great?!” She yells back, louder than you, causing you to wince a little at the shrill sound in your ear.

The seats are not great, but you wouldn’t be happy anywhere in here.

You can barely even see the field, the sidelines packed with God-knows-who, and your back hurts already, and all you want is to go back to the version of you that was first asked if she wanted to come with. A version of you that should have told Molly straight up that you’d have rather sat at home plucking at any remaining body hair with a pair of pointed tweezers than to come to a Michigan Football game.

“Oh, look!” Molly jumps, and you’re assuming she’s just going to point to her boyfriend, following her finger with a bored gaze. You’ve seen him, before. You don’t need to see him again.

Only Molly’s finger doesn’t point to her boyfriend.

It points to the sidelines - to a group of guys stood with a shorter girl with curly blonde hair.

Ellie’s down there, dressed in team colours, too. She’s stood next to Jack, who’s stood next to Quinn.

And you don’t even need to look past Quinn to know who’s gonna be stood beside him.

It’s way too late to go home, now, you fear.

Not when Molly is digging her phone out and pressing immediately on Ellie’s contact, and you can see the whole situation unfold in front of you. 

Ellie never has her phone on silent, and when it rings, it rings loud - a high-pitched, horrific tone that honestly sets off your fight or flight, and you can see the immediate reaction the boys have to it chiming in her hand. 

She answers, instantly, and you can hear Molly’s side of the conversation, guiding Ellie to where your group are up in the stands, waving like a lunatic until Ellie finds you all - and, as if your life isn’t bad enough, she then starts gesturing at you.

“Look who I managed to convince to come with!” She yells, still pointing like you’re some circus attraction, and, if you could remember what the ground felt like, too long in the stands, now, that you miss it, you would honestly want it to swallow you up.

Because obviously Ellie isn’t the only one looking.

Jack is looking.

And Quinn is looking.

And you know, once again without looking yourself, that the person beside Quinn now has his eyes on you, too.

The weight of them takes you back in a dizzying flash, and all of a sudden, you’re back in the lake house, sobbing into your hands until you were pulled into the soft embrace of your best friend.

“Hey, you’re crying, what’s wrong?” Ellie cooed as she came over, throwing her arm around your shaking frame and rubbing a hand up and down your back. “What happened?”

“It’s nothing, I’m fine,” you tried through shaky breaths, attempting and entirely unconvincing smile, like it would at all mask the flood pouring down your cheeks, “Go back to your party, I’m just being dumb.”

“I’m not gonna leave you like this,” she told you, “What's going on, is it Luke?”

The mere mention of his name brought back the onslaught of tears, your face scrunching as you tried to hold them back, but it was no use. Every single part of you ached with regret, your throat, your chest, your limbs - and all you wanted to do was curl up and cry it out. “I fucked it all up, El.”

“No,” she reassured you, “He fucked things up, he should never have spoken about you like that, it wasn’t fair. Not if the two of you are into each other, he shouldn’t be saying things like that.”

“He was right, though,” you sobbed, “I’m a mess, I just ruin everything good, I don’t even know why.”

“Aw, babe, no-,” 

“I told him I’d go out with Cole. I don’t even know why, I just wanted him to stop trying to make things work, he kept trying to tell me that he didn’t mean any of it, but I know he did.”

“Do you?” She asked, “Want to go out with Cole?”

“No, of course I don’t.” You shook your head, although you didn’t know how obvious it was, especially to everybody else, how little you wanted to be with anybody that wasn’t Luke. “I just want to go back to this morning, before I heard him say any of that stuff.”

“Why don’t you come downstairs, huh? We can find him, and the two of you can try to talk again-,”

“I can’t,” you refused, the thought of trying to communicate your feelings while you looked the way you did - eyes red raw and face all swollen - filling you with anxiety. “Can you just tell people I’m sick if they ask? I know it’s your birthday but I can’t go down there, Ellie.”

“Okay,” she had agreed, although the worry in her eyes made you feel even worse - missing your best friend’s birthday party because you were too chicken to face your feelings?

What sort of friend does that?

“I’ll come check on you, though. And tomorrow, you’re gonna have a serious conversation with Luke, alright? You can’t keep pushing people away, it isn’t good for you.”

“I know,” you sniffled, “I promise, I’ll try tomorrow.”

But trying had been futile. Luke wanted nothing to do with you - he could barely even look your way. He didn’t come downstairs for breakfast the next day, and when he finally did, he turned straight back around. Every time you tried to talk to him, he would shut you down, and by the tenth day of trying, you’d given up, entirely - booking yourself a ticket home, packing your things up one night and leaving the morning after. 

The following weeks were spent wallowing back home with your mom - texting Ellie, waiting for him to reach out, even though you knew he wouldn’t. Watching sad movies, staying inside, spending your days alone, while your mom was at work, and trying not to miss him so much.

And coming back to Michigan had only been made easy by the fact that he would be gone - due to go back to training in Jersey, and the two of you wouldn’t cross paths.

It won’t hurt as much, you had thought, if you didn’t have to see him.

But now here Luke is, following Ellie’s gaze as she waves up to you in the stands, stood on the sidelines of the football game you’d only attended to finally get yourself out of the house - still in Michigan, stood at the end of the path you thought no longer led to him. 

This might be the first time he’s met your eye in a while, and there’s a visceral feeling that shoots straight through you - your heart falling into an alarming, irregular thump that reverberates through your entire body, and it’s a strange sensation, like the slowing of time, the blurring of everything around you but him. 

His arm is held to his front with a sling, and you try to ignore the way your stomach turns at the sight of it. It’s nothing to do with you, he doesn’t want you to care. He doesn’t even want to talk to you, and you don’t want to talk to him, either - not anymore. Not after almost 6 weeks of silence - of forcing yourself to think about anything but him, like you even could.

You offer a tight lipped smile and a wave to Ellie, and try to ignore his presence for as long as you can, try to watch the game, to focus on your friends in the stands beside you - only, he keeps looking back. Craning his neck, surveying the crowd as it fills up just to find you, and your heart starts to hammer in your chest every time you catch his eye.

What happened to him avoiding you at all costs? What happened to ignoring your attempts to talk, the knocks at his door, the pleading, persuasive looks you’d try to give him when it all got a little too much in the end. 

Why can’t he just let you slip away into nothingness, like it would be so much easier to do?

Your phone buzzes in your back pocket as you’re trying to focus on the game, the desire to flee growing by the second - cramped and claustrophobic in your seat, dying for a drink and a minute of reprieve away from the crowd, away from Luke and whatever weird telekinetic powers he has on your heart.

Luke: can we talk?

Luke: I’ll be at the closest concessions in 5

You slip your phone back into your pocket without responding, and by the time you look back down to where he had been stood, he’s gone. 

You should be relieved. 

Maybe if you ignore his message, he’ll stop looking at you.

Maybe this is where it ends, and you can finally let each other go - too far gone to fix, nothing left to say.

Only your legs are now moving, side stepping Molly and the other girls, along with the rest of the people in your row, and your mouth is apologising to those you bump into, and your feet are carrying you down the stairs to where you know he’ll be, sneakers squeaking against the sticky floor as you search for him in the small concessions queue.

He stands taller than most, waiting by the counter, facing the other way, and you take the second that his back is turned to you to reconsider.

Stuck in place, staring at broad shoulders you’d once spent tracing the freckles between while he slept, and wondering which might hurt more - walking away or hearing him out. 

He turns before you get the chance to choose, his eyes meeting yours , widening in surprise, as much as they can, considering his current predicament, and he immediately heads your way.

“Didn’t think you’d come,” Luke just about says as he precariously holds onto a plastic cup between his teeth, offering you the one in his free hand - what you assume is diet coke with ice sloshing a little over the rim and onto the already sticky floor. 

“Can hardly leave a one-armed man to navigate the concession stand on his own. Not one with your appetite, at least.” Your brows furrow when you notice the distinct lack of snacks in his hold, but you figure he prioritised using what little carrying capacity he had to get your drink. “Do you want me to hang around while you get something to eat? I can hold your drink,”

“I don’t have much of an appetite,” he says, clearer now that he can hold his cup in his hand instead of his mouth. “I’m on some pretty strong painkillers, can’t eat without feeling sick.”

“Oh,” you frown, eyeing the sling that holds his other arm. He had been fine when you left the lake house - and even last week, in Ellie’s story on instagram, he hadn’t seemed injured then. It must be a recent development, and so close to the season, for him to be out in public wearing a brace, it can’t be good. “What happened?”

“Took a pretty bad hit on the ice,” he shrugs with his other shoulder, lips turning down like he’s trying to play it off, “Been telling myself it’s karma.” The way he chuckles is distant and noncommittal, and not at all like all the ways you’re used to seeing him smile or laugh. His eyes don’t squint, his mouth barely turns up, barely pushes those tell-tale folds into his cheeks that you used to press at when he was close enough to do so. Back when being in such close proximity made your heart thump in a different way.

But maybe that’s for the best.

Maybe one of Luke Hughes’ signature crooked grins might have made you do something stupid, like touch him again. You’ve worked too hard to push away the feeling of wanting to for the past month. 

“Karma for what?” You ask instead, head tilting to survey the damage, like you’d even be able to see anything through the thick yellow hoodie he has on. It’s better than looking him in the eye, you think.

“For what I said to Cole,” he tells you, the shame that lines his words doing little to alleviate the way they so quickly jab at you, all the memories of that day and that conversation rushing back at you full-force. Memories you’ve worked really hard to suppress. “For hurting you. I probably deserved to get hurt, too.”

“I’d never want you to be hurt, Luke.” You say before you can think better of it, narrowed eyes meeting his finally, watching as they soften slightly, let your words sink in and melt like warm butter, seeping into his every pore and breaking down his hardened exterior. 

“Me neither,” he almost-whispers, “For you, I mean. I wouldn’t want you to be hurt.”

You nod, momentarily pressing your lips together, your focus dropping to a patch of lint on his hoody, clenching your free hand into a fist behind your back to save yourself from reaching out to pluck it off. 

“Is that all you wanted to see me for?”

You don’t want to be rude to him, but it’s hard, especially when every instinct in your body is telling you to push him away - to keep him at arms length where he can’t pull you back in. 

“No,” he utters quickly, his feet shuffling as if he wants to step forward, reduced the metaphorical distance you’re trying to force between the two of you. “I was hoping we could talk.”

You just about save yourself from having your jaw drop wide open.

You’d tried to talk to him last month, before you left, and he had wanted nothing more to do with you. 

“In the middle of a football game?” You frown, daring to glance up - taking notice of the panic in his eyes when he reads you like a book, can recognise your retreating form from a mile off, by now.

“No,” he blurts out, “No, I mean later, if you’re free. Somewhere else.”

“I don’t know-,”

“We’re having a barbecue back at the house,” he interrupts, a look on his face like he couldn’t possibly accept no for an answer. “Like an end of summer send-off thing, you should come over, I know the guys would want to say goodbye properly.”

“I don’t know if that’s a good idea,” you finish your earlier thought, “Besides, your family probably all hate me.”

“Why would they hate you?”

“Because of what happened with us,”

“Oh,” He frowns, “No, they don’t hate you, I promise, not even Jack.”

“I find that hard to believe,” you scoff - when he had helped Ellie move rooms back in the sorority house last week, he could barely even muster a smile to send your way. He hadn’t been his usual stand-offish self, but he had hardly been friendly, either. You didn’t expect laughs and hugs and welcome-backs, but after the two of you had kind of made up back at his cousin’s wedding, and things were finally solid between him and your best friend, you thought some kind of bridge had been built.

Apparently not.

“I didn’t tell them.”

“Oh,” you don’t know whether you feel relieved or disappointed. He can’t have been that heartbroken about the whole thing if he never told a soul, right? Even you told your mom when you got home - granted, she was a whole bottle of rosé deep into the night and seconds from falling into a wine coma, but you still at least acknowledged your feelings to somebody. 

What did he do, just bottle all whatever feelings remained up and send them off down the lake? Enjoy the rest of his summer like you never happened?

“I didn’t think you’d want me to,” he continues, “You never really liked me talking about us with other people, so I didn’t.”

“Right,” you nod, biting your tongue to save from throwing out a bitter, thanks. You spent the last month watching heart-wrenching sad movies in your bed all day and he just went about his life like the two of you were nothing That’s fine. That’s cool.

“Ellie’ll be there,” he tries again, like she won’t be attached to Jack’s hip all night and you’ll be left on your own. “And a few of the Michigan guys, if you need a ride back to campus. I’d offer to drive you, but,” he nods down to his arm, “Or you can stay, your room is still free.”

Yourroom. Like you have any claim on any part of his world, still.

“I’ll think about it,” you tell him, because you can’t fully bring yourself to say no to his face. It’ll be easier when you’re back home, later, and can just ignore his texts, if he even cares enough to send any. “I should get back.”

“I can walk you back,”

“You shouldn’t be in a crowd with your arm,” your head shakes and you step back, your body language saying more than your lips even dare. “It’s fine. Thanks for the drink.”

“No problem.” He chews at the corner of his lip as he watches you retreat, like he has more to say. 

Despite spending the last month doing everything in your power to wipe your thoughts clean of Luke Hughes, you want nothing more than to hear it - but where you’ve been suffering and relating every pathetic, sad song you hear back to him and fighting every urge to reach out through fear of rejection, he’s been ignoring your entire existence. Repressing whatever feelings he may have had and neglecting any instinct he might have had to reach out, too. 

“Promise me you will?” He calls out when you’re a little ways down the tunnel, causing you to turn back to see him in the same spot, “Think about it, I mean. I’d really like to talk to you.”

Your fingers tense at the mere mention of a promise tumbling from his lips, your pinky sending signals to your feet to run straight back to him, practically itching to reach out and link with his. Instead, you nod, eyes darting to the big M that stretches across his chest, easier to look at that and lie than into his hopeful gaze. 

“Sure,” you tell him, because you can hardly make a promise you can’t keep. 

Not to Luke.

You’re not coming.

Luke realistically knew as much when Ellie arrived on her own - immediately going over to Jack and sparing Luke a glance out of the corner of her eye as she whispered to his brother.

But it’s taken him almost 2 hours to really come to terms with the fact - to stop keeping an eye on the door and whipping his head around any time a newcomer enters the house. 

He should have known when you refused to make a promise to him - not like you owed him anything in the first place. Should have known when the few attempts you made at joking around with him like old times, you’d barely mustered a smile - that familiar glint in your eye that shone only for him watered down into a dull gaze you refused to hold. 

God, he’s an idiot, he thinks.

He should have spoken to you when he had the chance - those few times you had tried to offer an olive branch, pushing a pre-poured glass of juice his way at breakfast or making space for him on the couch he’s now conveniently slumped on, all alone.

It feels a little like a lost cause now, trying to reignite some sort of spark between the two of you - not when you won’t even hear him out.

He’d felt a bit of hope when you’d met him at the stadium, thinking his text might have been left on read - and even though he’d made the effort to buy you a drink, he hadn’t entirely expected you to turn up. 

He thinks maybe that had been the first thing to throw him for a loop - arranging a meeting on a whim and you actually making an appearance. Maybe that’s why he couldn’t form a coherent sentence, or relay any sort of confidence in himself or what he was trying to sell you on. 

Maybe that’s why he couldn’t convince you to come.

He can’t blame you - your last 10 days here at the house had been miserable, on his account, and if he was in your shoes, he wouldn’t come back, either. He wouldn’t hear himself out, wouldn’t forgive himself.

The night of Ellie’s party should have been where he drew the line at avoiding you - the initial aftermath of your fight still sizzling, too hot to touch while the both of you were still reeling.

The morning after, he had been hungover - throwing back drinks like nobody’s business just to drown you out - and there was no chance of having a serious conversation, then, even though he had woke up alone in his bed wanting nothing more than for you to be there.

He’d gone downstairs sometime in the early afternoon, ignoring his growling stomach until he couldn’t do it any more , and had trudged into the kitchen only to find you there with Cole.

The bitterness within him fought violently with his need to puke, and he stormed back up to his room, no longer having any sort of appetite, and stayed there for the rest of the day.

The days that followed were no better - avoiding you at every given opportunity, ignoring your pleading eyes, leaving no chance for you to speak to him, despite all the times he could see that you wanted to. He’d leave every room you entered, turn away from every conversation you joined, and the final nail in the coffin was probably the time he ignored you knocking on his bedroom door one night, the soft call of his name feeling like a knife that twisted in his gut. 

You were gone the next day - your bedroom door open and the room empty when he walked past, your seat at the table vacant when he came downstairs for breakfast, and he seemed to be the only one who didn’t know. Ellie seemed unbothered, already having moved into Jack’s room, Quinn was drinking the green tea you had bought, that no one else was supposed to touch, Alex probably wouldn’t have cared either way, and Cole was already talking about meeting up with some other girl.

“Wow,” Luke had scoffed, throwing himself into the chair beside Cole’s and sneaking a peak at his phone screen, suddenly feeling a burning need to call the guy out. He was to the entire reason you called things off with Luke, and now he was talking to someone else? “Her bed isn’t even cold and you’re already moving on, huh?”

Ellie had glared at him from across the table, and Jack had frowned too, no doubt wondering why after 10 days of complete silence about the whole thing, he was daring to bring you up now.

“What are you talking about?” Cole chuckled, leaning back in his chair and raising a brow at Luke, who just said your name in response, with a pointed stare. “What about her?”

“Thought you were ending your summer with a girlfriend.” 

“Dude, where the hell have you been?” Cole snorted, amused, if anything, “She couldn’t have turned me down quicker if she tried. Man to man, don’t ever follow instructions from that one,” he pointed over to Ellie, “She led me on a wild goose chase all summer just so that I’d help her get her guy.”

“Hey!” Ellie called from across the table, “It’s not my fault you have no game. And I would have gotten my guy just fine without your help.”

Before Cole could retort, spurred on by the way Jack was chucking by her side, Luke frowned, straightening in his chair. “She didn’t want to go out with you?”

“No, but before you say anything, it has nothing to do with my game, alright? She’s into someone else, I guess.”

“Someone else?” Luke’s eyes darted over to Ellie, who just rolled hers in response, turning her attention back to Jack before she excused herself from the table.

“That’s my guess,” Cole shrugged, “She said she wasn’t into me like that, but come on.”

Wasn’t into him?

That wasn’t what you had said to Luke.

“Sorry man,” Luke offered, absentmindedly, head craning to see which direction Ellie left in. “As you were.”

He jogged out of the kitchen and up the stairs, just about catching her before she disappeared into her and Jack’s room. “Hey, wait,” he had called, watching as she let out a heavy sigh and turned to look at him with narrowed eyes. “She turned him down?”

“Did you not just have this exact conversation with Cole?”

“Ellie, c’mon,” he pleaded, desperation creeping up inside - feeling a little too much like guilt, and causing a serious discomfort in the pit of his stomach. “She said she wanted to date him.”

“You’re so unbelievably stupid.”

It didn’t quite hit the same as when you said it, shame washing over him at the way Ellie was glaring at him. 

“She heard you tell him that she wasn’t girlfriend material, and that she would just be hard work, and not worth his time. Lucky for you, she didn’t hear the bullshit you said before that.” Regret formed like a heavy ball in his gut, the weight of it almost pushing him to keel over. “She said whatever she had to to get you off her back because it hurt her less to push you away.”

“I don’t-,”

“And you’re the dumbass who just let her do it.”

That’s not fair, he thought. What was he supposed to do, just watch you move on without a care in the world, cheering you on with a stupid grin on his face while his whole heart crumbled to pieces at the thought of you being with anybody else?

“I’m not a mind reader, Ellie,” he tried to defend himself, “I can’t keep pushing at a door that won’t open.”

“My God, do you have a peanut for a brain, Luke?” She had shoved at his chest, “She’s been holding the door open for the last ten days, and all you’ve done is walk past it. She wanted to talk to you, and you wouldn’t even look at her!”

“I wasn’t ready! I thought she-,” 

He had thought you had taken Cole up on his offer of taking you out - had thought that’s the conversation he had stumbled into the day after the party - and he didn’t want to risk hearing anything about it, or seeing it in action.

“She said it didn’t matter.”

You had said that - he had asked you straight up, so there was no confusing it, but when he tried to remember, he can’t picture your eyes as you did. He must not have been looking, he thought, or maybe you weren’t looking at him. Either way, how’s he supposed to muster up a clear idea of your intentions if he can’t remember the look in your eyes as you spoke them. 

You couldn’t lie to him - you never could, even in the beginning, pretending to be aloof, pretending you weren’t into him, he could always see through you, back then, so why didn’t he try harder when it was something he didn’t want to hear?

“She’s really gone home? Not just back to Ann Arbor?”

“What are you gonna do?” Ellie scoffed, folding her arms across her chest, “Chase her down?”

“I don’t know, if I have to. We need to talk.”

“She’s probably back at her mom’s by now, she left pretty early. And I think it’s for the best if you leave her alone, Luke. She gave you a hundred chances to talk.”

“What am I supposed to do? I can’t just leave things like this, I made a mistake, I need her to know that, I need her to know I’m sorry.”

“It’s better if you both just cool off a little. She’s hurt that you’ve been ignoring her, it isn’t fair to keep playing hot and cold with her feelings.”

“That’s not what I-,”

“I know.” Ellie sighed, leaning against the wall and giving him a pitiful look as she finally took in just how panicked he had become, running hands through his hair and shifting between his feet. “Just give it time, that way you can both think about it, think about what you want to say without just saying things and not meaning them.”

And that’s all Luke has been doing since then.

Thinking about what he wants to say to you - thinking about how to fix things. All without knowing when it is that he would even see you again, or if you’d be willing to listen. 

He’d distracted himself with it - his mind stuck on just how bad he had messed things up, and it had put him into a rut - so much so, that he ended up hurting himself in training, an injury that would have him out for a good couple of months. And he had meant it, when he told you he thought it was karma, because he deserved a reality check, he thinks. It had shifted things into perspective, at least - because now he could stay in town a little longer, could try and make amends before he had to go home and properly start his season.

And when he’d noticed Ellie scanning the crowd back at the game, had followed her beaming smile all the way to you in the crowd, he thought his heart had stopped.

It had been 4 weeks since he’d seen you last - almost 6 since he’d spoken to you. Since he’d touched you, or kissed you, or seen you smile, and when your eyes meet his from the stands, widened and hesitant, he could tell you were feeling the same.

An insurmountable longing for something the two of you should never have thrown away.

He saw the truth, then, even as you looked away and diverted your attention back to Ellie - the truth he was too hurt to notice all those weeks ago back in your room in the lake house. 

That you felt the same way - you always had - you just weren’t used to it. Weren’t used to loving someone, or having them love you.

But he can’t quite tell if you still feel it.

He can’t expect you to, not with how reserved you’ve become.

He sighs, sinking into the cushions of the couch, legs stretched out and head thrown against the back as he squints against the light - the noise around him dwindling to a constant buzz. 

He’s too caught up in his head to notice when Ellie sinks down beside him until she nudges at his side, and he slowly looks her way.

“If it helps at all, I could tell she wanted to come.”

Luke snorts out a humourless laugh, eyes rolling. “If she wanted to come, she’d be here.” He says, the muscles in his jaw tensing. “She doesn’t want anything to do with me.”

“She doesn’t really open up to people,” Ellie sighs, and he can tell from the way she’s looking at him that’s only divulging this from a place of pity, although he guesses that’s better than her saying nothing at all. “It took us years to get to where we are, and even now I’m not sure she lets me all the way in, and we’re supposed to be best friends.”

“I feel like I don’t even know if she was ever into me in the first place,” he mutters, tracing at a scratch in the surface of the table. Even if he had thought different, back in the stadium, he can’t be so sure now that you haven’t shown. You’d have come if you still cared. “I’m still confused by the whole Cole thing-,”

“That was my fault,” Ellie interjects, “I thought I was doing the right thing, I didn’t realise that you two were-,” her teeth clash as she bites down, as if to stop saying the word, together. “Whatever you were. And she just got all in her head after she heard you saying all that stuff, it’s what she does, keeps her cards close to her chest until she loses them all.”

“That’s the problem, El,” Luke groans, “If she really liked me, she would have told you. If she was ever serious, you’d have known something was up. She wouldn’t have hidden it from her best friend and told me that she was gonna go out with Cole after all.”

“You know she turned him down, Luke, he said himself, she was into someone else.”

“Yeah, or so he assumed,” he grumbles, recalling the feeling he got when Cole had said as much, back on the day you left.

“And you know on my birthday when she overheard that conversation, she’d literally just told me that she liked you. That’s big for her, Luke. It might have taken her a while but she got there in the end. It’s your own fault for having such a big mouth and ruining it.”

“I told her I didn’t mean it,” he can’t help how whiney he sounds, lips pouting and a crease forming between his eyebrows. “I told her I was sorry.”

“And then you ignored her for almost two weeks until she had no choice but to leave. You don’t get to claim the moral high ground here, I’m sorry.”

“So what am I supposed to do? She won’t talk to me.”

“You just have to give her time, don’t give up again.” Ellie nudges him a little too forcefully, the sharp jut of her elbow in his ribs causing him to wince. “Really think about if there’s a version of you that could be friends.”

“What if I don’t want to be friends, what if I don’t wanna keep taking one step forward and three back?” 

“Then think about if you’d rather be nothing at all.”

“She hates me that much?”

“I don’t know, she stopped talking to me about it.” Ellie huffs, leaning back a little more into the couch. “But I’d take that as a no. If she hated you, neither of us would hear the end of it, trust me.”

He knows that’s true - all the odd comments you’d drop about Jack back in the beginning of summer. He knows you never hated Jack, but there was always a clear dislike, and you were never shy about voicing it to anyone willing to listen.

If you’re not talking about him at all, it means one of two things. You either give so little of a shit about him that you don’t see a use in bringing him up, or you don’t want to show vulnerability by admitting how much he hurt you.

He knows what he’d put his money on.

“Can’t you talk to her for me? Put a good word in?” He pleads, rounding his eyes in the hopes that Ellie’s pity extends to doing him a solid - he dedicated his entire summer to getting her and Jack together, after all.

“I think it’s best for the both of us if I stay out of her love life. My meddling is what got you guys into this mess in the first place.”

Luke sighs as he resumes his previous position, neck thrown against the back of the couch and eyes cast to the ceiling. 

Your room is right above - the bed on which you’d kissed him that first time, away from your scheming at the mall, still made and empty. The bed where you two would lay atop the covers, watching movies on the old staticky TV, sharing snacks between you and spouting commentary into the night.

He wonders, then, if you’d watched anything since the last time - before you left - and it’s that thought that has him pushing himself up and making his way up the stairs. 

Despite the amount of time since you were in here, it still kind of smells like you - like melon sunscreen and passionfruit perfume - and he casts a glance around for anything that might remain.

There’s nothing, though. No loose hair ties, forgotten jewellery, not even a book left behind.

And then he checks by the TV - the shelf below it housing a DVD player, and he powers it up just to press eject.

After a few seconds, a disc spins out.

Silver Linings Playbook, with Bradley Cooper and Jennifer Lawrence.

He might have seen it once or twice, can vaguely remember some of the storyline, but it isn’t until everybody has left the house a good hour or two later that he thinks he should watch it - if it’s the last movie you watched before you left - just to get an idea of your headspace. 

When he’s lounging on his own bed, the movie playing on his TV, Jennifer’s Tiffany saying to Bradley’s Pat, “I used to think that you were the best thing that ever happened to me, but now I think that you might maybe be the worst thing. And I'm sorry that I ever met you.” And it turns his stomach in a way he isn’t prepared for, tears pricking at his eyes at the thought of you watching this and thinking the same.

And then Pat responds, and Luke sits with the line for a good minute, pausing the movie as he ponders the response, "Good for you. Come on, let's go dance.” 

He wonders if you smiled the same way - soft and small, hopeful that one day the punches you throw to defend yourself are met with the same resistance, with a hand that grabs at them, and instead of fighting back, just pulls you closer.

It’s almost by instinct that he pulls his phone out, loading up the same app he always does when he’s watching a movie, ready to fill in a review when it gets to a part that resonates with him.

And there you are, on his friends feed - the last movie you logged being an hour ago, La La Land, which you had unsurprisingly given 5 stars, and had reviewed with just a quote - It’s pretty strange that we keep bumping into each other. Maybe it means something.

And he grins, really and genuinely beams, for what feels like the first time in a while, a small chuckle rumbling up from his chest as he checks for your review on Silver Linings - the same quote he loved so much sitting there under your 5 star rating. 

He doesn’t want to be nothing, he decides, then, like it was ever in question. 

And he realises it’s up to him to do something about it.

Luke’s first thought when it comes to fixing thing is to text you.

It’s simple, and it should be easy, but he sits staring at your name in his phone for 30 minutes trying to think of what would be best to say.

A casual, hey, in the hopes that you’d just instinctively type it back.

A call out, like, Bummed you couldn’t come over the other night, thinking you might have been feeling guilty.

A question, or even an invite, along the lines of, Do you want to meet somewhere? Because leaving someone hanging on an invite is just plain cruel.

But then he feels like he doesn’t want to force your hand - weirdly inspired by that La La Land quote you loved so much, about bumping into each other.

Only orchestrating a chance encounter was hard when you weren’t going out. Ellie had mentioned everybody going for drinks at one of the bars on campus, and you never turned up.

She told him your favourite coffee shop, and despite him hanging around all day one time, like a total creep, he didn’t catch sight of you once.

You weren’t with Ellie when he bumped into her at the mall, or at the diner, when he had gone for burgers with the guys and seen a few of your sorority sisters on the other side of the restaurant.

And even when Ellie had told him to come over to the house, that she’d take him into town to pick up some suits, because he was still in his sling and couldn’t drive himself, he had been disheartened to find out you wouldn’t be there - that you had a morning class, and Ellie hadn’t even seen you.

He settles for looking at the cute photo of you and Ellie on the mantle, greek letters painted on your cheeks, beaming smiles as you looked straight into the camera, and he still gets that twinge in his chest even looking at a photo.

A twinge that only grows when he hears a gasp from behind him, and he swiftly turns to see you at the bottom of the staircase, looking back at him, alarmed and surprised.

Luke’s eyes trail slowly up your bare legs, his throat going dry as they land on the oversized shirt you’re wearing - his shirt, he’s pretty sure, although he knows it’s probably best not to comment on that - before cutting up to your face, wide eyes staring back at him.

“What are you doing here?” You ask, stepping back toward the staircase where you rest your hand on the bannister, putting as much distance between the two of you as you can without completely retreating up the stairs. 

“I uh-,” he stutters, losing his train of thought as he stands there with his mouth agape, taking you in.

He hadn’t been prepared to see you, that much is clear - and especially not like this, dressed in his shirt, which you’ve obviously slept in, hair a little messy, skin bare of any makeup. It reminds him of those mornings in his bed, waking up before the rest of the house, your body bathed in the soft glow from the rising sun, trading sleepy kisses until you would sneak back off to your room.

It makes him yearn for that, again, and feelings like that need some kind of forewarning, otherwise they serve nothing but to make him ache.

“I said I’d drive him to an appointment,” Ellie says as she emerges from the kitchen, car keys in hand, “I though everyone had class this morning, you’re not gonna hand me in for having a guy in the house, are you?”

“I’m not a snitch,” you frown, tugging at the ends of his shirt, “I slept in, I didn’t think anyone else was here either.”

He didn’t exactly need the confirmation, considering your current state, but knowing you slept in his shirt makes the heat creep up his neck, his chest puffing as he really takes in the meaning of it.

So many things about you are screaming that you want nothing to do with him, but you’re sleeping in his old Michigan shirt, one you’d borrowed when your shoulders were burning out on a wakeboarding trip one day, he’s pretty sure - one he never even realised you kept.

“Do you need a ride?” She offers, stepping beside Luke, close enough that in order to look at Ellie, you pretty much have to look his way too, and every time you glance at him, he catches you. “We were gonna go get a drink before, so we’re heading your way anyway. Or you could come with, if you’re skipping."

“Uh, no,” you decline, without even thinking about it, Luke’s chest feeling a little tighter at just how quick you are to avoid being near him. “I’m gonna go to the library.”

“I could still drive you. I doubt you’d mind a detour, would you, Lukey?”

“No,” he breathes out, almost immediately, eyes staying on you. “I don’t mind.”

“It’s fine,” you offer Ellie a tight lipped smile, “I’ll walk.”

And that’s that - your figure retreating back up the stairs before Luke has anything to say about it, his shoulders slumping as Ellie offers a friendly pat to his back.

“C’mon then, I need to stop for gas, you’re paying.”

He follows Ellie out to the back of the house, where the girls usually park their cars off the street, and just as he’s climbing into Ellie’s Mini, he glances up to the one of the windows, just in time to catch the quick shift of a curtain.

“Don’t worry,” Ellie says as he adjusts the passenger seat, folding his long legs into the limited space, an assured smile sent his way before she starts up the car. “I’ve got a plan.”

“What happened to no more meddling?” He huffs as he buckled himself in.

“I can’t sit back and watch my best friend become boring trying to avoid you, Luke,” she sighs, “It’s borderline painful.” 

—

You don’t know when managing your social life became Ellie’s full time job - as if the two of you aren’t tumbling into the depths of your final year of school with very little direction or guidance - but you’re growing tired of it, quick.

First, it had been, you’re coming to the bar and I’m not taking no for an answer, except, she had taken no for an answer, she just relished in making you feel bad for it after.

Then it had been, I need your opinion on halloween costumes, and she had insisted you join her at the mall, but you had an appointment with the careers counsellor that you really couldn’t miss, and she had to settle with sending you photos, again adding incessant messages about how she wouldn’t let you turn down the next invitation out.

Never mind trying to avoid bumping into Luke during his extended stay, avoiding Ellie was becoming a real task - slipping out before she can corner you in the mornings and staying out most of the day.

She caught you off guard, the other day, though - inviting Luke around. Sure, you were supposed to be in class - would have been, if your alarm had gone off on time - but still, bringing him into your space was like crossing a line, breaking an unspoken rule.

She’s supposed to be on your side. She isn’t supposed to be bringing the guy who hurt you into your house and driving him around town like his personal assistant, all from the good of her heart.

She’s just trying to kiss up to Jack.

At least, you thought so, until she sent you a text later that day - a bunch of pictures of Luke in different suits, tailored perfectly to his lean figure, shirts that stretched taut across his broad shoulders and pants that clung perfectly to his hips, followed by the message, thoughts?

You had many, but none that you could possibly sent to her - only replying with a question mark until she apologised, claiming they were meant for Jack’s approval.

It became clear then, what she was doing - flaunting him in front of you until you burst at the seams, like one of those jackets looked like it was going to do in a few of the pictures from the back of Luke in the tailor shop. Sending you those had been no accident.

And that’s why you were sceptical when the weekend rolled around, and she was begging and pleading for you to go with her to a party at the hockey house - promising you that he was finally heading back to Jersey, and definitely wasn’t going to be around.

She’d buttered you up with groans of, I feel like I never see you anymore, and, school is stressing me out, already, I just want to let loose with my best friend!

And it was the promise that she’d let you wear a skirt you’ve been eyeing in her closet for the past two years that sealed the deal - a vintage Diesel mini that she had thrifted and guarded like her whole life depended on it. 

You can’t help it, anyway - it’s been so long since you’ve been out like that - probably summer being the last time - and you need to let loose too.

And that’s how you end up walking hand in hand through the front door, Ellie having styled your hair, the two of you looking like a million dollars, and it’s the first time in months that you aren’t disturbed by the feeling of eyes on you.

You kind of feel like your old self - confident, self-assured, like there isn’t a soul on earth who could possibly make you doubt yourself.

You wish the universe gave you at least five minutes to sit with that feeling before you saw him. 

Before you saw Luke, sling-free, bottle in hand, leaning against the wall, talking to Victoria Anderson, a girl you know he has history with - a girl you have history with, yourself.

You hate how quick the switch within you flips - the slight slump of your posture, the tension in your jaw, all your self-worth seeping from your pores like your body is actively trying to kill it.

Your hand slips from Ellie’s, immediately heading in the opposite direction to where Luke is - making a bee-line straight for the kitchen, straight for a drink.

Ellie is hot on your heels, grasping at your arm to keep up, “I’m sorry,” she calls after you.

“You said he wouldn’t be here,” you grumble, shoving through the swinging door and heading straight for the line of bottles on the counter. 

“What am I, his keeper?” She scoffs, trying to play it off as a lighthearted joke, but you can see it in her eyes that she knew. “I don’t know where he’s gonna be at all hours of the day.”

“You said he was going back to Jersey.”

“Yeah, well, I must have got my days mixed up!”

“Yeah, right,” you scoff, pouring out a shot from the first bottle you find without even reading the label, and throwing it back before you can think twice. You pour yourself a proper drink, after - a vodka with diet coke - and sip at it just to cool your nerves, trying to calm yourself down.

You don’t want to be mad at Ellie - whatever she’s doing, she’s doing it because she cares - but you’re so tired of overthinking this whole thing. All you want is a break from it all, and no one is willing to give you one.

“I’m gonna go find Ethan,” you tell her, figuring you can kill two birds with one stone - ask him about the class you missed the other morning, and avoid speaking to Luke, “If you want to make this up to me, I need you to tell Luke to steer clear, okay?”

“Fine,” she scowls, rolling her eyes as she has to pour her own drink.

You storm off back toward the door, and just as you get close, it swings open, the edge of it knocking straight into you - into the hand holding your freshly poured drink, which is now dripping down your front.

Your whole body tenses at the sensation of the liquid seeping through your shirt, only momentarily thankful that you hadn’t added ice before you remember the coke - remember the vintage skirt, with the light denim wash.

You hear Ellie groan from behind you, and you squeeze your eyes shut in the hopes that you’ll magically gain some sort of time travelling superpower - a rewind button, like Click.

“Are you okay?”

Of course it had to be him, you think - because you’ve somehow unsettled the entire balance of the universe, and this is how it’s decided to repay you, your eyes opening to find those concerned, grey-green eyes peering back at you. 

He takes the empty cup that’s being squished in your grip and tosses it into a trash can to the side before you feel a hesitant hand on your side, watching as he surveys the damage.

“And here I thought that skirt couldn’t get uglier.”

Victoria’s piercing blue eyes gleam back at you, a sinister smirk plastered on her lips, and you’re lunging before you even know it until a strong arm curls around your waist, the heat of his skin slipping straight into the gap between your skirt and t-shirt, and sending a shiver straight down the spine that’s now pressed to his front.

“Hey, c’mon,” he warns, pulling you back with enough force that there’s a good couple of feet between you and Victoria now, and her eyes narrow at all the points he’s touching you. “Let’s get you cleaned up.”

You think you only let him guide you away to piss her off - and it isn’t until he’s ushering you into the small downstairs bathroom and closing the door behind him that you realise how little consideration you put into that.

You watch as Luke retrieves a towel from the small cupboard by the door, forgetting he probably still knows this place like the back of his hand, and starts to work at the front of your t-shirt before you snatch it away.

“I’ve got it, thanks.” You snap, entirely frustrated with the whole situation than you think you are with him, a small swirling of guilt immediately bubbling up inside you. 

You dab at the skirt, first, hoping there’s some way that it’s salvageable, or Ellie’s going to murder you. You lean against the counter by the sink, and glance down at the damage. It looks just like a water stain, for now, unfortunately placed, but you won’t know for sure until it dries, and dabbing at it with a towel isn’t really going to fix that.

“Did she hurt your hand?” Luke asks, low voice breaking the silence you were starting to cherish, and it’s only then that you realise where the door hit you. Your knuckles ache a little, but you can still flex your fingers, so you figure they’ll just be bruised tomorrow.

You do wish you could have bruised them another way - maybe with a fist to Victoria Anderson’s smug grin - but you’re supposed to be a pacifist, so maybe not. If anyone’s going to break that pattern, it would be her - your rival in every way ever since you came to Michigan. Academically, in all the same classes, socially, in opposing sororities, and even romantically, with her somehow always looking out for the same guys.

She’d even been at one of the parties back at the lake house, with her hands all over Luke - you remember hearing her shrill laugh and feeling like someone had just drug their nails down a chalkboard, all semblance of peace instantly lost. 

You’re brought out of whatever fiery daydream even her name elicits with the touch of Luke’s fingers to yours, the soft brush of his thumb over your knuckles as he checks for any real damage.

“I’m fine,” you croak out, dazed a little by the feeling before you tear your hand away, “It was just a knock.”

“You want me to kick her ass?”

You blame the shot you took for the way you snort out a laugh - caught by surprise and unable to even consider the reaction, slipping straight back into your unguarded self around him - like the walls you’ve tried so hard to rebuild just dissolved. Not even a knock or a tumble of bricks, just them fading into nothing like magic.

Luke smiles back, soft and hesitant, like he’s waiting for you to fade away, too.

And then there’s that silence you thought you wanted - heavy and tense, and it’s too much for you to handle, so you slip past him, wordlessly, and head straight back to the door. 

And just as your fingers grasp at the handle and you prepare yourself to pull, a large hand lays flat on the surface beside you, trapped by a warm chest closing in on your back.

It’s quiet for a minute, the dull thump of the bass from the music somewhere else in the house now distant and fading, and the room feels charged way beyond the atmosphere of the party you’ve been away from a little too long.

You see the bend in his elbow before you feel his breath on the back of your neck, and you can feel the distance closing - an inch or two now, so close that you have to stay vigilant not to take even the slightest step back.

“Luke,” you breathe, your throat stinging in preparation for some sort of hurt, and your lip trembling until you start to chew on it.

“Just one more minute.”

“You have to let me go.”

“Please, I just want to talk.”

You turn, slowly,  and you don’t know why you do it to yourself, because it’s inevitable you’ll fall prey to the pleading look in his eyes. Your back falls against the door, and you’re craning your neck to look up at him, blinking slow as his eyes flicker between your own.

Every passing second feels like a minute, and just as you’re about to give in - to tell him to go ahead and talk, the door vibrates behind you, a fist banging into the other side.

“Please tell me the skirt is okay!”

You press a hand flat to his chest and push, wedging some much needed space between the two of you - enough that you can swing the door open and face Ellie, and save yourself from plunging into whatever rabbit hole that would have taken you down.

“I won’t know until it’s dry, but if it’s bad, we’ll take it to the cleaners, okay?”

“Ugh,” Ellie groans, grabbing you by the hand and dragging you back to the kitchen for another drink, “I’m so running her ass over the next time I see her on the street.”

You look back at Luke, still stood in the doorway, watching the whole way until you disappear around the corner, and it’s only when you can’t see him anymore that your heart rate returns to an acceptable speed.

You successfully manage to avoid Luke for a good couple of hours, almost forgetting him, miraculously, despite being in a house filled with his closest friends. There’s even a point where you think he might have left, until you stumble out into the backyard to a group setting up a small fire to keep warm.

You’re too buzzed to comment on the legality of it, so far gone that the thought of campus police coming around barely even crosses your mind, and you throw yourself down into one of the camp chairs with a drink in hand as the group discuss how to pass the time.

You can’t remember who suggests Never Have I Ever, too distracted by the figure settling down on the opposite side of the fire, long limps stretching almost comically out of the small chair, meeting your eyes for a moment before you look away at the arrival of Nick, who comes with cards in hand. 

You’d usually make some sort of comment about how juvenile it is, but there’s this part of you that’s probably trying to cling a little to that, lately, so you let it pass, leaning almost sleepily back into your chair as it kicks off.

The game is pretty tame compared to other times you’ve played it, stuff like, never have I ever crashed a car, and, never have I ever broken a bone, coming from the top of the deck, and there’s only a few complaints about it needing more spice before it gets to Ellie’s turn to pick, a few people down from you. 

“Never have I ever,” Ellie drags out before picking a card, flipping between her manicured fingers and smiling slowly as she reads the rest, “Been in love,” she coos, turning it to show the rest of the group with a love-struck grin.

A chorus of groans sing out from around the circle, Luca reaching to swipe the card from Ellie as she takes a big chug from her red cup. “That’s so lame,” he huffs, “Pick another, this isn’t the Ellie show. We get it, you're happy, doesn't mean the rest of us should suffer.”

You glance down at your empty cup as the two of them start to argue about the rules of the game, Ellie grumbling how she didn’t write the cards, and Luca retorting with how she could have at least gone off-script to make it a little more interesting.

If you had any semblance of your inhibitions, any control of your reactions, your gaze would have stayed on the last few drops swirling around the base of your drink. Your eyes wouldn’t have trailed up slowly, past the dancing flames of the makeshift-campfire, and fallen onto another cup at the opposite side of the circle.

It wouldn’t have watched intently as long, slender fingers raised to bring said cup up, pressing to parted lips, the contents gulped down as you stare at the movement of his throat around the liquid.

When you dare to look higher, you find him already staring back at you, piercing green eyes burning hotter than the fire between you, and your own throat goes dry as you watch. 

And of course he makes a show of it, squaring his shoulders and swiping a thumb across his bottom lip to make sure there's no residue. No evidence of all that he had just admitted to. Nothing but the memory of it burned already into the back of your retinas, lingering like an ache all the way down your spine.

No one else seems to notice - but you suppose that’s just how things go between you and Luke. One more secret to add to the ever-growing pile.

Your hand trembles as if it wants to copy him, but you’re thankful for the last shred of dignity you have that tells you that even if you wanted to drink - even if you could play it off as assuming the question had been vetoed, and you were just quenching your thirst in the brief break in the game - there’s nothing left. Even if you wanted to drink - which you brain is so loudly telling you that you don’t - you can’t.

And when Luke’s gaze shifts, lowers painstakingly slow as everything else fades to background noise around the two of you, you don’t know why you find yourself tilting your cup when his eyes land on it, making a show of just how empty it is.

“You’re not gonna drink?” Ethan frowns from beside you, a nudge of his elbow knocking at yours and bringing you back down to earth with a painful splat.

Why would he assume that?

“What?” You ask, frowning as you meet his chocolate brown eyes, the reflection of the flames basking them in a warm, melting glow. 

“He said never have I ever been kicked out of a bar,” he chuckles, quirking a brow as your face morphs from one of confusion to one of recollection. “I know for a fact you have.”

“Oh, right,” you laugh, nervously, the reaction coming out more like a stuttered breath as the panic swirling in your chest dissipates just the slightest. “I’m running on empty. I’m gonna go get a refill.”

Ethan nods as he shuffles a little to let you out of the circle, watching with narrowed eyes as you lift yourself from the chair and edge your way out of the group and back towards the house.

The kitchen is thankfully empty when you get back inside, sliding the door shut behind you to block out the noise, your thoughts overbearing enough without still being able to hear everyone yelling out in the yard.

You move almost on autopilot, heading for the row of bottles on the counter and reaching straight for the vodka you’ve been mixing with diet coke all night.

You pour out a measured shot first, swirl it in the cup before lifting the it straight to your lips, leaving little room to think much more about it, and throwing your head back.

The liquid burns the whole way down - all the way from the back of your mouth, past your aching chest, and into the pit of your stomach, pooling there in a nauseating bubble of heat and regret - and you don’t know entirely if the need to drink was just to quench your thirst, to alleviate the warmth spiking up your neck, to quell the rampant beating of your heart, or to play along with the game. With Luke’s game.

Maybe some mysteries are better left unsolved. 

He wasn’t in love with you.

You think you’d know. He would have told you - he’s hardly shy about voicing his opinion, you learned that the hard way. 

He’s just being cruel, now, you’ve convinced yourself - probably payback for earlier, for leaving him in the bathroom and telling him to let you go. One final act of defiance, because he has to have the last word.

God, why would you even play along?

You shouldn’t have even looked his way - should have kept your eyes down, then you wouldn’t still be feeling like your whole body is on fire. 

Your eyes dart up at the sound of the screen door opening, and your heart thuds in your chest at the sight of who walks through.

You hold your breath as he slowly makes his way toward you - cautious steps carrying him toward the counter where you stand, and he places his empty cup on the surface beside yours, 

“You can’t avoid me forever.”

“I don’t have to avoid you forever,” you shrug, circling around him and trying not to let him trap you again, “I just have to avoid you until you go home.”

“I don’t want to go home without us talking,” he grasps at your wrist before you can fully get past him, levelling you with a tired look, one that says he’s resigned to his fate, but he can’t rest until he tries one last time. “Please.”

“Luke,” you groan, the remnants of intoxication slowly fading into exhaustion. 

“Just one conversation.” He begs, “Then you can be done with me, I’ll leave you alone.”

Your lips twist as you try not to give under the weight of his softened, pleading gaze. He’s persistent, you’ll give him that - and he’s technically surpassed the efforts you had made back before you left the house toward the end of summer, now almost 3 weeks since you had turned him down back at the football game. 

And do you really want him to leave you alone? You’re not entirely sure. Maybe talking to him can help you finally figure that out. 

“Fine.” You acquiesce. “One conversation.”

“You want me to walk you home?” He asks, his voice soft and low, a tilt to his head that makes his curls shuffle and a caring glint in his eye that makes your legs feel like jelly. It’s probably for the best if he does, you think, you’re at a serious fall-risk now. Tired and buzzed, a lethal combination.

You nod, wordlessly, watching as he seemingly tries to fight a small smile, straightening up to swipe your cup, stacking it with his own and throwing it in the trash. 

“C’mon, I already gave Ellie a heads up, I’ll come back for her.”

You soften a little at the thought of him considering her - even if it isn’t about you. If it’s on Jack’s behalf, and he’s just being a good brother, him looking out for your best friend is still sweet.

You let him guide you out of the house, and it’s quiet in a way you can’t stand, walking side by side down the otherwise empty street.

“You’re out of your sling, then?” You don’t know why you feel better to make small talk - but waiting with bated breath for him to say what he’s been trying to for so long now makes your heart pound almost painfully against your ribcage. 

“Yeah,” he flexes his arm a little, as if to prove a point. “I’m back in Jersey at the end of the week, will probably be doing no contact training for a while.”

“How long until you’re playing again?”

“They’re saying it’s looking like November,” he tells you, “Which sucks, but at least I don’t need surgery like Jack.”

“Do you miss it?” You ask, conscious of the way your steps are slowly turning toward his and trying to straighten yourself up. “Being back in New Jersey with your team, with Jack?”

“Jack doesn’t give anybody a chance to miss him, you should know that by now.” He grumbles, "In my texts 24/7 like it’s his second job.”

“Ellie’s too,” you tell him in a breathy chuckle, crossing your arms over your torso just to keep your hands busy with something as he shoves his back in the pockets of his jeans. “I don’t know where he finds the time,”

“He doesn’t need time, he’s annoying to his very core.” Luke scoffs, “I do miss the guys though, but there’s a couple group chats. And I’d probably miss the guys here if I was back there.”

“So either way you’re missing somebody?”

He gives an affirmative hum, kicking a rock down the side of the curb, figuring you don’t quite realise just how true that question rings to him. The sorority house is at the end of the path, now - closer than either of you really anticipated, and you almost start to panic, like the walls are closing in on you, like you’re running out of time.

“Listen-,”

“Look-,”

You both stop in the middle of the sidewalk, looking at each other wide eyed until you press your lips together, and gesture for him to carry on.

“I miss you,” he says, plain and simple, like it’s all he can muster up - and if you’re honest, it’s all you want to hear, an acknowledgement that without you in his life, there’s this gaping hole that no one else can fill. “I know that if I want to fix things between us, that I should give you this huge speech about how much I fucked things up, and that I should have trusted you, and listened to you when you tried to talk to me, and I do think all those things. I know those things, but I’ve been trying to figure out how to say them without it sounding like some bullshit excuse, and I figure I just need to be honest with you.

“I feel like the whole time we were together, I was waiting for the other shoe to drop, you know, like I could never just be in the moment with you because I felt like it was gonna end. And I think maybe you were doing the same.”

It’s crazy, you think, how well he knows you.

“And neither of us were ever gonna be ready to be anything more, because we weren’t even acknowledging that this thing between us probably wasn’t healthy.”

You’re quite thankful for the sting in the back of your throat, because you don’t know what you’d say to that, if you could speak.

It hurts to hear it, but he’s right. 

“I just wanted to believe it was a good thing for as long as you’d let me, and when you said you’d have dated Cole, and that you’d have thrown it all away, and I just left without a fight, I-,” he blinks, like he’s trying to rid himself of the tears welling in the corners of his eyes, like he doesn’t want to give in and let them shed. “I don’t know, I thought it was best to avoid you all together than watch you put that final nail in the coffin, or whatever.”

“You know I never went out with Cole, right?”

“I know. He told me before he left for training camp. The day you left. Almost considered running after you to apologise for being such a dick. Even thought about flagging you down in departures at Wayne County.”

You let that thought sit for a moment - Luke chasing you down like something out of one of the romantic comedies you would watch together - like the angsty movies you watched after you went home, laying on your bed and wishing the two of you could have had a happy ending. 

“Probably for the best you didn’t chase me through the airport,” you tell him with a wistful smile, “declarations of love freak me out,”

“I thought they might.” He chuckles, breathily, his heart not entirely in it.

“I also took the greyhound.”

“You know serial killers get those things, right.”

“You watch too many movies.”

His eyes flicker to yours, then, knowing and amused - like a new inside joke has cemented itself into your dynamic. 

“I don’t want to be nothing with you.”

It’s a weird statement, almost nonsensical, but you get it.

It’s what you’ve been trying for ever since you left Michigan, after all, and especially after you returned.

You let the thought settle for a moment, your lips twisting and your eyes tearing up as you watch him wait for a response.

“You really hurt me, Luke.” Your voice trembles as you say it, and you think you’re only part spurred on by liquid courage, the rest of it probably the incessant need to open up to somebody.

“I know,” he practically whispers back, choked up as much as you are. 

“I don’t think I can do that again.”

He nods, pressing his tongue to the side of his cheek like he’s trying not to press you on it, stepping back ever so slightly and huffing out a deep breath.

You almost think he might retreat, entirely - accepting your reluctance this final time and letting you go, just like you’d asked, earlier.

“What about if it’s not,” he shakes his head, sighing as he tries to think of the best way to say it, “What if it’s not romantic, between us?”

“You really think we could be friends?”

“You don’t?” He asks, wincing a little like the thought of anything else is painful.

“We’re hardly gonna see each other,” you tell him, “Is there really any point in keeping it up?”

“I’d like to try.”

You don’t know what concept hurts you the most, the thought of trying and failing, or not trying at all. Either way, you lose him.

You wish, for a moment, you were in any way good at math - that you could work out the statistic for the other option, the one where it actually works.

The option where neither of you get hurt, and you get to keep him.

You imagine that it’s slim.

“I don’t know, Luke,” you sigh, unable to shake the heaviness of your doubt, “It feels like we’re just stretching out the inevitable, here.”

“I don’t think so,” he fights back, taking that step forward that he just took back, “Just friends, it doesn’t have to be anything more than that. Hell, if you want to build up to friends, I’ll take that, too. Just not nothing. I miss you too much to be nothing.”

You miss him, too. You missed him the past 3 weeks while he’s been in town, and the two of you have somehow managed to avoid seeing each other for the most part. You missed him for the month you were back at your mom’s house. You missed him those ten days over in the lake house, when he was still technically right in front of you the whole time.

“Can I think about it?”

“Yeah!” He nods, eagerly, the slight etching of a smile spreading across his lips. “Yes, you can think about it.”

You nod back, then, hesitant and before you can do something stupid, like wrap your arms around him as a goodbye, you step away.

You bid him goodnight, offering a thank you for walking you home, and you retreat into the safety of the house, watching through the window by the front door until he disappears back down the street. 

The start of your semester passes in a chaotic blur, and you very quickly, and very frantically, find yourself panicking a little about the what’s-next of it all.

With the last few months of your headspace occupied entirely by a certain brunette, you realise quickly that you really need to knuckle down and figure out what you’re going to do with yourself once school is over.

And that’s what brings you to New York City in the middle of October - one of your very few prospects for the aftermath of your college career discussed over iced teas in Midtown, Manhattan, before you’re crossing state lines through the Holland Tunnel and scrambling to get ready in the hotel room you and Ellie had booked.

You don’t know how you managed to hide all of your efforts behind a veil of secrecy, but Ellie had been all too distracted by you agreeing to accompany her to Jack’s team halloween party in Jersey City, and so she had little brain power left to question where you disappeared off to, or why you’d possibly have any sort of appointment anywhere near here as soon as you told her she could pick up a costume for you.

You should have known it would be something ridiculous, evidenced by the poofy yellow dress and cartoonish crown she had left on your bed for you to change into. 

When you emerge from the bathroom, fully dressed, she’s stood in her Princess Peach costume - the colour palette a lot more complementary to her than the yellow is to you, but you can hardly fight her on it now - especially knowing Jack is out there somewhere dressed as Mario.

You don’t know how it slips your mind that he and Luke play for the same team, or that they’re brothers, or that he could possibly at the same party, dressed as Luigi. Not until you and Ellie are walking into the party a little after it starts, and you meet his eye for the first time in a couple of weeks, your mouth falling agape as you realise just what Ellie has done.

You don’t even have a second to call her out before she’s prancing off to some far side of the room with Jack, all over him after their own extended time apart, and you literally have no option but to sidle up to Luke, tail between your legs, cringing at the entire situation as you stand beside him in a room full of his peers after you had only just shut him down not long ago.

Thankfully, it’s Luke - and he would rather choke than make you feel uncomfortable about it.

He offers an easy smile, amused, even, as he greets you from the tall table he’s occupying, handing you the beer he just opened for himself and reaching for another from the table behind him. 

“I don’t even know why I agreed to come with them, I knew they’d just split and make out in the corner,” you roll your eyes, taking a swig from the bottle and grimacing a little at the taste. “I don’t even know anybody.”

“You know me,” he shrugs, “I don’t mind keeping you company.”

“Yeah right,” you scoff, “You literally just came back, the last thing you need is to be lumped in a corner with me all night when you’ve hardly seen your teammates for months. I’m just gonna duck out in a little bit, no one will care.”

“I’ll care,” he chuckles lightheartedly, the ease in which the statement slips out and the certainty in which you feel it sends a slight shiver down your spine. “I’ve been back in training for a week, trust me, I’ve already had enough.”

You sigh, trying to ignore the convincing look he’s giving you - head titled, a lopsided smile and eyes filled with hope.

It was only just under two weeks ago that you told him you didn’t want to be friends, so you can’t really understand why he’s so intent on you sticking around. He should be personally ordering you an Uber back to your hotel and pushing you out of the door, but he’s giving you this pleading pout now that’s making you think his night would fall to pieces if you left so soon.

The thing is, you’re not that great around people you don’t know, not lately, anyway - especially not when those people are all big, bulky high performance athletes (and Jack) and their drop dead gorgeous partners. You feel like an intruder, like you don’t belong, and you can’t imagine anything happening to change your mind.

“I still feel like such an outsider at these things,” Luke huffs, elbows resting on the tall table in front of you, his body leaning onto it in the absence of any stools nearby until he’s more around your height. “This is the first time Jack’s brought anybody with him so I can’t exactly stick to his side like normal.”

You frown.

Is he serious?

Luke has never been the type to stick to his brother’s side - not from what you’ve seen, anyway, and you’d pretty much spent your entire summer observing the guy - you’re way past the point of trying to deny that, now.

“Isn’t that Seamus over there?” You point to the opposite side of the room, where you’re pretty sure you recognise another of yours and Luke’s previous classmates. “Aren’t you two friends?”

“We got into a pretty heated discussion during Thursday Night Football the other night, we’re on a break.”

You almost forgot how quick Luke can be, the slight quiver in the corner of his mouth giving away his attempts at deception, but you’re hardly in any position to call him out on it.

He’s trying to do you a favour, after all.

“In fact, I need you to stay for my protection. He might be out for my neck, you can’t let me die in a Luigi costume, that would be cruel.”

You snort as you take him in in his entirety, from the ridiculous hat, to the stretched out one-piece outfit topped off with a pair of white sneakers.

“Speaking of, aren’t you supposed to have a moustache?”

“It’s in my pocket, didn’t want to make Jack feel bad, ‘cause he can’t grow one and all,” he mutters, reaching into the front of the outfit to retrieve the stick-on prop, the back still taped up and in-tact. 

“Right,” you scoff, taking it from his hand and peeling the tape, “Jack can’t grow facial hair.”

You reach forward and press it to his upper lip, holding it in place until it sticks, careful not to actually touch his mouth in the process.

“I can grow it,” he rolls his eyes, “I just don’t suit it.”

“I don’t know,” you shrug as you pull back, admiring the results and trying not to laugh, “I’d say you suit it just fine.”

You reach into the pocket of your own dress to retrieve your phone, and snap a picture just to show him, pressing your lips together as you see his eyes widen in horror.

“Delete that,” he huffs, and you just about manage to stop him before he rips the thing off.

“No,” you whine, “Keep it on, it’s funny!”

“I don’t want to look funny, I want to look cool and hot.” He huffs, frowning when he seemingly realises how ridiculous that sounds.

“Halloween costumes aren’t supposed to be hot.”

“Easy for you to say, Princess,” he gestures down to your dress, and you once again have a visceral reaction to how natural it is for him to say things like that. You feel your ears going warm, and you break eye contact just so that he doesn’t see straight through you.

“I meant to say, sorry about this,” you gesture down, too, all of a sudden feeling every fibre of the costume that’s covering your skin, “I don’t know why I didn’t connect the dots sooner when Ellie said she and Jack were doing Mario and Peach. She just said she’d get me a costume, I didn’t think that we’d be-,”

“A couple?” 

“Yeah.”

“It’s no big deal,” Luke shrugs, sipping at his drink with a nonchalant frown. “S’just a costume. Besides, what else could you have been? I don’t think they sell sexy Goomba outfits.”

“Please,” you scoff, swatting lightly at the blue overalls stretched across his chest. “Don’t be ridiculous, if anything, I’d be sexy Toad.”

“Hmm,” he considers, with a long glance down your figure. “That might have actually worked.”

You feel the heat creep back up your neck before you can regulate yourself, not concealed at all by the sweetheart neckline of your dress, or the way Luke’s eye linger on any exposed bit of skin.

You press your lips together and divert your attention to Jack and Ellie in the corner, feeling every extended inch of Luke’s presence beside you, your heart thumping at the mere proximity of him, and you start to chew on your bottom lip. 

“Can’t believe we tried so hard to get them together,” you mumble, watching as they start to kiss, “They’re disgusting.”

“Absolutely revolting,” he agrees, “We were out of our minds all summer.”

You know he’s referring to the scheme you two kept up, you’re the one who even brought the topic into conversation, but you can’t help the instinctive way your chest starts to ache again at the mere mention of summer.

The two of you had talked about this, back in Ann Arbor, before he had come back to Jersey. You’re supposed to be over it, but it doesn’t make it hurt any less. You swallow thickly before reaching for your drink and chugging down the contents, avoiding his gaze as he watches you.

The thought of leaving crosses your mind again, but there’s a larger part of you that has missed this - missed him, maybe - a little too much, and those weeks back in Michigan last month had only served to weaken your resolve.

Keeping your distance had been a giant failure from the second you started to attempt it, and Luke is persistent - that much has always been obvious - so denying him any sort of contact is just pointless, now.

You had thought, back when he had dropped you off at the house the other week, that turning down his offer of friendship had been the right thing to do. You’d told him you would think about it, but it was always going to end up in rejection.

He’s in Jersey, you’re in Michigan. He has a really hectic schedule and career, and you’re supposed to be putting your head down and studying for your final year.

He broke your heart, and you broke his right back.

But you realise that you were naive to think that your paths would hardly cross.

Your best friend is dating his brother. You have so many mutual friends that you can hardly avoid him when he’s back in town. And beyond all that, you miss the versions of the two of you that just got on - before it all got messy in the summer. 

The banter, the inside jokes, the deep understanding of how each other worked.

And you had regretted it since - turning his offer down. 

Bringing it back up again is daunting, though. Opening yourself up to him, to say that you’d been thinking about him this whole time, and feel a deep, ever growing pit in your stomach now at the thought of being nothing, just like he had said he felt.

“Listen,” you start, with all intentions of figuring it out as you go along, only now feeling a serious urge to fix things, somehow, before you go back home, tomorrow, “I-,”

“Hold on, I gotta introduce you to someone. Hey, Pesce,” he calls out to his ever so-slightly taller teammate as he passes nearby, waving him to stop by the table the two of you are at before he walks away. He introduces you both by name, and you don’t miss the silent interaction between the two of them as he does, wide eyes and wiggling brows, a telepathic taunt from Brett and a wordless warning from Luke. “She’s my friend from back in Michigan, and he’s been my rehab buddy.”

You allow yourself to be distracted by that - not Ellie’s friend. His. Not a plus one of a plus one, or an outsider hovering around the edges of a private party. Someone he wants his teammates to know.

You like it more than you ever thought you would.

You feel your lips turning up into a natural smile, and a weight lifting off your shoulders - 7 words erasing the need for an entire conversation, already.

You probably could have told him to go fuck himself and that you hated his guts back on the street outside your sorority, and he’d still be out here calling you his friend.

Persistent.

“It’s nice to meet you,” you tell Brett, reaching out to shake his hand, matching his firm grip and meeting his steely gaze. 

“You too,” he smiles back, “I’ve heard-,”

“Lukey! Finally got a girl to notice you, huh?”

Another of Luke’s teammates approaches the table, and the absolute comedy of being introduced to a bunch of people in ridiculous costumes isn’t lost on you as he comes closer, a gigantic, teasing smirk almost overshadowed by a glaring red headpiece he wears.

“Nice to see ya, Curtis,” you watch as Luke embraces his other teammate, a wry, crooked grin on his face as he rolls his eyes fondly, and you try to ignore the weight of Brett’s discerning gaze on you. When he introduces you this time, Curtis shows no sign of recognition at your name, offering you a kind smile and extending his hand for you to shake. 

“Not talking your head off, is he? We’ve tried to train it out of him, but he’s a stubborn thing,” he chuckles, ruffling Luke’s hair like he’s petting an excitable puppy. 

“I’m used to it by now,” you shrug back, smiling when Luke scoffs, returning to your side.

“Nice costume,” Curtis looks Luke up and down, and it’s like you can see him trying to formulate a joke in his head, your lips twisting as you notice Luke anticipating the same, watching with a raised brow and a bored roll of his eyes. “That might be the closest we ever come to seeing you with facial hair.”

“Big talk coming from a dude dressed as shrimp.”

“I’m obviously a lobster, Luke.” 

“Obviously,” Luke mimics back like a child, his face sour and his lips pouted as his older teammate just laughs in his face. 

“C’mon, man,” Brett claps a hand on Curtis’ back, “Enough bruising the kid’s ego, you owe me a drink, remember?”

He knocks his free fist against Luke’s as he passes, offering you a wink and a nice to meet you before he’s guiding Curtis over to the bar and leaving the two of you alone, once more. 

“Sorry about them,” Luke mutters, “I could save them both from a burning building and they’d still treat me like their annoying baby brother.”

“It’s cute,” you shrug, sipping at your drink and catching his eye as they narrow toward you, clearly taking further offence at your choice of adjective. “They do it ‘cause they love you, Luke, it’s sweet.”

You try not to react to what you’ve just said - try not to think of that sentiment in the context of your own interactions with Luke, lightheartedly poking fun at him just to get a reaction because he can be so gut-wrenchingly adorable. 

It’s not the same.

But you can tell he’s thinking it too, looking at you with eyes that see straight through you, and a tilt to his head that’s almost mocking. 

“I uhm,” he sighs, stepping back a little closer to you and leaning down on the table so that he has to look up to meet your eye, “I told Pesch about you. About us.”

You blink back at him, waiting for him to say more - not really knowing how to respond, because you kind of had a feeling anyway. Brett has the worst poker face you’ve ever seen in your life. 

“It’s just been me and him training together, and we were getting to know each other, and you know how it is, he asked me about how I spent my summer, and about girls, and there’s just you for both, so it sorta just came out. Plus, I kinda felt like I had to talk about it with someone or I was gonna go crazy.” 

You look down, giving a slight nod of understanding - because you do get it. 

Also, the confirmation of something you’ve been wondering is kind of a relief. He hadn’t started anything with anyone else after you left, or back in Michigan, when you were making everything so hard on him.

There’s just him for you, too.

And it’s really hard, having one person consume your thoughts in such a way when you have no outlet to properly talk it through with anyone.

You never felt like you could talk to Ellie about any of it, and having all these feelings fizzing up inside you for so long is starting to make you feel like a volcano on the brink of eruption. 

Luke had done the sensible thing, finding an unaffiliated third party and seeking advice from someone with no bias. No scathing comments from his brothers, judgement from any of the guys back in Michigan or pitiful looks from your best friend.

“I didn’t say anything bad,” he assures you, “Not that there is anything bad, I promise I don’t think poorly of you or anything, and I wouldn’t go around telling random people if I did, especially not my teammates, I don’t want you to think-,”

“Luke, it’s fine,” you place a hand on his forearm, his eyes snapping up to meet yours at the slightest touch, wide and alarmed, like he feels like he’s digging himself into a hole. “I get it. Sometimes I feel like I’m gonna go crazy, too.”

“You do?” He frowns, like that was the last thing he expected you to say. 

You had told him you were hurt, so it can’t come as that much of a surprise that you feel some type of way about everything that went down between the two of you.

You’re not that heartless.

“What did you say to him?” You ask, hoping to engage with his incessant need to talk, rather than any attempt to eke information out of you. “About us?”

“Just that I didn’t like how we left things,” he tells you as you lean beside him, “It’s hard, not knowing where we stand, or what it’s gonna be like when I see you again. I still get the urge all the time to text you, even about stupid things. Someone was telling me about this Matthew McConaughey movie the other day, and I thought of you. Wanted to ask if you’d seen it.”

“It’s probably safe to assume I’ve seen all the Matthew McConaughey films. Even the bad ones.”

“It wasn’t on your Letterboxd.”

You swat at his bicep, your lips turning slowly into a grin as you can’t help but laugh at how little he cares about hiding his intentions.

You’d caught onto him monitoring your account somewhere between him coincidentally watching Notting Hill a couple days after you did while he was back in Michigan, the five star rating he gave to Call Me By Your Name, and him somehow knowing all the most obscure but gut-wrenching quotes from all the movies that really tore your heart out - writing them in his reviews like he was talking to you in some secret language that only the two of you spoke.

I think I’d miss you even if we never met, from The Wedding Date. 

I’ll do anything to make you happy. Tell me what you want me to do and I’ll do it, from Past Lives.

There will be a piece of you in me always, from Her.

All movies you had listed after going home from the lake house - had laid in bed with teary eyes and trembling lips for the most part, and associated all those same quotes with him, too. And even without you putting them in your own reviews, he just knew every time which part of the movie made you think of your relationship.

You’d even tried baiting him out with Barbie, the other week, snorting to yourself despite your heartache when you imagined him seriously typing out, I only exist within the warmth of your gaze, without it, I'm just a little blonde guy who can't do flips, and hoping you would see it.

If anyone else had done it, it would probably have been corny. You’d have blocked them, the level of perception and lowkey invasion of privacy making your skin crawl - but Luke seeing you was different. Him being on the same wavelength - feeling the same feelings, thinking the same thoughts - was something you couldn’t ignore. 

“You’re not supposed to admit to cyber stalking me, you idiot.”

“What?” He chuckles, rubbing at his arm, “I missed watching movies with you.”

He shrugs at that like it’s nothing, but you can feel your cheeks go warm even if his don’t. You missed watching movies with him too - missed the long stretch of his legs far surpassing yours on top of the sheets, and the way he’d hold out candy for you to get some every few minutes. 

“Plus, you were stalking me, too. Why else would you be watching The Mighty Ducks on a Saturday night?” 

“I thought it might teach me about hockey.” You frown, although you’d been all too caught up with just how cute those movies were. You still know very little about the sport, but you can still appreciate the charm of a young Joshua Jackson.

Luke smiles, lopsided and gentle, but you know by now that’s his version of cocky - the kind of smile that shows you that something you’ve said has scratched at his ego, and he’s banking it somewhere in the back of his head.

“I can teach you,” he says, his voice an octave lower as he leans in - and you know he isn’t doing it on purpose, but it makes the hairs on the back of your arms raise, how he almost purrs over to you. “Can give you a crash course if you want?”

“Now?”

“Nah,” he sips at his drink, “Another time. Need an excuse to text you remember?”

“You can text me whenever,” you tell him, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he smirks at you, “Just so you know.”

You don’t tell him that you’ve been waiting for him to do it, anyway.

That for those first few days after he finally left Michigan, every buzz of your phone had your heart rate doubling. 

The first instant you had started to regret your decision, you had been hoping he would still try to change your mind.

You don’t tell him you started following a random team update account for news on how he was getting on with his injury, because he wasn’t letting you know, himself, or that you once spent an hour reporting people trolling him or talking smack in the comments just for something to do.

“What about FaceTime?”

“Don’t push your luck.”

To say you were planning on leaving as soon as you had arrived, you enjoyed yourself way more than you thought you would with Luke and his teammates - in fact, you’d probably go as far as to say it’s one of the best nights you’ve had since the summer.

Luke had introduced you to pretty much everybody, flitting around the room and making the rounds, and it had been nice to see how normal and nice everybody was - instantly making you felt like you belonged, to the point where you figured out that Luke had only said all that stuff about feeling like an outsider because he knew that was how you felt, knew it would tug at your heartstrings and make you stay.

You know from how close he is with the guys back in Michigan that Luke loves his teammates, but seeing it in action for the first time had been sweet. Seeing the other guys ruffling at his hair, play fighting, throwing their arms around him and indulging him in his corny jokes kind of made you feel less tense about the way you’re so instinctively affectionate with him. 

Even after what had happened toward the end of summer, and swearing off any sort of romantic connection since, you still want to touch him, still want to be near him, and while you don’t think his teammates exactly have those same thoughts, it makes you feel a little more normal, how much they all love him. Makes you feel less like you should be wedging all this distance between the two of you - because if they all love him like this, then why can’t you?

You don’t even realise that Ellie and Jack have long snuck off until you get a text to say not to come back to the hotel, and that Jack’s bed is freshly clean for you to sleep in. The thought of it is gross, but you figure that two athletes will have a comfy couch, so you’re not all that bothered in the end.

Plus, it gives you more time with Luke - to have a proper conversation, to figure things out. So, when it’s time to leave, and he ushers you out of the bar with a hand on the small of your back, you let him cross the boundaries of being nothing, and lean into his touch until you’re out in the cold, wrapping your arms around yourself as he shrugs off his jacket.

“Put this on,” he demands, throwing it to you and watching as you catch it with a clumsy grip, “We’re walking.”

“Walking?” You ask, stumbling to catch up with him as he starts to make his way down the street, his long strides making it incredibly difficult, especially in the stupid costume heels you’re wearing. You ease into his jacket as you move, shaking your arms until your fingers just about peak out of the ends, and relishing the warmth that encapsulates your body.

“Yeah, it’s 10 minutes. I know that sounds like a lifetime in campus terms, but I’m assuming you still know how to walk.”

You scoff as you pretty much jog to keep up, taking rushed, small steps until you just about make it to his side. “I don’t have a car, remember, I walk everywhere. I just assumed we’d be getting an Uber or something."

“S’good for you,” he shrugs, “Clears the mind. And it’s only a few blocks back to the apartment. I can show you all the best breakfast spots for you and Ellie to visit before you leave tomorrow.”

“But it’s dark out.”

“What, you’re scared of the dark, now?” He looks down at you from the corner of his eye, his height advantage meaning you can so clearly see the amused way in which his mouth curves up on the side closest to you. 

“I’m scared of being abducted in a back alley and brutally murdered so that my organs can be sold on the black market.”

“That happens more on the other side of the river,” he hooks a thumb in the general direction of what you assume is the Hudson, but it could be anywhere for all you know. This is your first time in New Jersey, and your brief expedition into Manhattan in the morning had done very little to clue you in on the lay of the land.

“Murder is an international issue, Luke, I don’t think they draw the line at what state they do it in, look it up.”

“You watch too much TV,” he chuckles, “Who’s gonna mess with you when I’m around? Look at me,” he gestures down to his ridiculous costume, “I’m the picture of intimidation. You don’t think I’d protect you from the black market organ thieves?”

“You’re dressed like an Italian plumber, you dork, and you’ve got arms like toothpicks, they’d probably kill you first just for fun.” You retort, grabbing at his arm to bring him back to your pace. You almost can’t believe that in the brief expanse of one evening, you could possibly have returned to this level of comfort, but you’re trying not to think too hard about it - especially with a mind partially loosened up by a couple of drinks. “Could you at least slow down? Your legs are like twice the length of mine.”

“Aw,” he pouts, “Do you want me to carry you?”

“Don’t joke, I’d pay good money for a piggy back right now.”

“Shame I’ve got such toothpick arms then, isn’t it?” he fakes an exaggerated smile, and you narrow your eyes until he drops it.

You huff as he carries on, thankful at the slightly slower pace he seems to have adopted, and the way his chin keeps jutting in your direction to check on how well you’re keeping up.

“What about a fireman’s carry?” You suggest, looking up at him with pleading eyes and pouted lips.

“The best you’ll get is me giving you my gloves to wear as socks and I’ll carry your shoes for you.”

“And if I step on glass, cut into a vein and bleed out?”

“I suppose then I’d carry you.”

This feels familiar.

Feels comfortable and right, and when you look back on those nights in September when you had seen him - at the football game, in the living room back at the sorority, and the party at the hockey house, this is what you’d felt like you had been missing.

It doesn’t have to be awkward, or charged, or tense between the two of you. 

Maybe it can be like this again.

Like it was in the beginning, before everything got messed up.

“I meant to ask earlier,” he nudges at you with his elbow, “Ellie said you had an appointment over in Midtown,”

“You’re such a stalker,” you snort, shaking your head with a wry smile as you glance over at him, “Literally the snoopiest guy I’ve ever met.”

“Snoopiest?” He scoffs, “It’s called curiosity. I can’t wonder what my friend did with their day, now? I’m snoopy?”

“There’s a masters programme at NYU,” your eyes dart down to the floor as you start to tell him, figuring that you’ll feel less nervous if it just feels like you’re speaking in general, instead of confiding in him. There’s also a part of you spurred on by his immediate adoption of you being his friend - still reeling from the ease in which he had been introducing you as such to everyone all night. Opening up to him is just as easy, and now that you’re embracing the dynamic, it’s like the pieces that form all the resistance within you are shifting out of place, creating a bunch of cracks for him to seep straight into. “One of my sorority sisters has a cousin who’s in her final year, she set up a meeting so that I could talk about my application.”

“You’re applying to NYU?” He asks, quickening his step until he is a little ahead of you, turning on his feet until he’s walking backwards, giving you no chance of ignoring his presence anymore. 

“I’m thinking about it,” you shrug, “It isn’t a done deal, so don’t tell anybody.”

“I can keep a secret,” he promises, and that same ache starts to form in your chest again, at just how well you know that to be true.

“Plus, it’s a long-shot, so even if I did apply, I probably wouldn’t get in, and I don’t want to get Ellie’s hopes up that I’ll be sticking around.”

You have a job lined up elsewhere already for when you graduate - an entry level role in a PR agency over in Chicago, close to home, close to your mom - but the more you’re considering it, the less sure you are. The job would be pretty much you getting taken advantage of for being a recent graduate, and furthering your education could help secure something bigger and better. But throwing away a sure thing seems stupid, and you don’t really want to do so if you don’t have something else secured.  

“Getting into the NHL is a long shot, and you’ve just spent the night in a room full of people who made it happen,” Luke tells you, ducking his head a little lower until you look him in the eye, “Don’t underestimate yourself, you’re really smart, you’ll get in if you do end up applying.”

The way he says it is so sure - so different to anybody else, who you feel like is just saying it to make you feel better. Luke believes it, you can see it in the way he looks at you, confident and certain of your abilities more than you’ve ever been in yourself.

“I don’t think you can call you getting into the NHL a long shot, unfortunately,” you tell him, your lips twisting in the corner as you bite back a smile when he starts to frown. 

“Not you too with the nepotism stuff,” he scoffs, only partially feigning offence.

You swat at his chest, “Hey, I’d never,” you gasp, “I meant ‘cause you’re so talented.”

“I bet you did,” he snorts, falling back into step beside you, a little closer this time, your elbows knocking as you continue to walk. “Haven’t even played yet this season, what would you know about my talent?”

You think it’s the way he’s leaning in a little that seems to hypnotise you, rendering you a speechless, practically-spluttering mess as you struggle to form words or a single, coherent thought. You wonder if this is how he felt, all those times when you turned on the charm and innuendo and purposely tried to push his buttons. Defenceless and weak. 

“I’ll tell you what I do have a talent for,” he straightens up a little, increasing the space between you so that you feel like you can at least breathe again. “Important old man voice. If you ever need to put someone down as a phoney reference.”

“I’ll bare that in mind when the NYU admissions board loosens their policy on Kevin McAllister level schemes, thanks,” you chuckle, your smile lingering when he returns it, cheeks folding into a lopsided grin. 

“Hey, give a guy some credit, there’s a little Ferris Bueller in there too.”

“Yeah, ‘cause schools love Ferris Bueller types.” You scoff, “You’re such an idiot.”

You glance over to see him pretty much beaming in response, and, if you were a betting person, you’d put all your money on knowing his exact train of thought.

You have a tell, after all, you remember, for when you’re enjoying yourself more than you think you should be.

Walking back to his apartment gives the two of you a little time to properly catch up - away from tense conversations and teary admissions - he tells you about his training, you tell him about school, and it feels like seconds pass before he’s ushering you into his building with that same guided hand on your lower back, the heat of his touch felt even through his jacket, and into the elevator. 

You stand by his side as it slowly ascends, hands buried in the warmth of his jacket pockets and ever so often meeting his eye in the reflection of mirrored doors before you glance away with a flush to your cheeks.

Every time you look back, he’s smiling a little, soft and small, but sure of himself in a way that makes all those hardened parts of you melt a little inside. 

There’s something different about him that you can’t quite put your finger on - something in the way he carries himself, around his teammates, around you, even just in general - like he stands taller, somehow. Like here in Jersey, he makes a point to hold himself up a little more, and it makes you cherish the version of him you had, those months ago - vulnerable and raw.

You hadn’t appreciated at the time, just how much of himself he gave to you - all the little quirks and insights you got to see - but you appreciate them, now. 

“I had fun tonight,” you tell him, smiling instinctively when he meets your eye, “Thanks for not letting me leave.”

“Thanks for not leaving,” he chuckles, the doors opening in front of you and that hand going straight to your back again until he’s guiding you towards his apartment. “It’s been nice just talking to you again, I missed it.”

“Me too,” you admit, because there’s really no use in keeping it bottled up when he’s so freely opening himself up to you. He so easily tells you that he misses you, and wants to speak to you, and it enjoys your company, so you not doing the same only feels like you’re doing yourself a disservice - especially when admitting as much back to him earns you one of those cute, crooked smiles he’s so good at giving. 

He holds open the door for you and you have to brush past him to go in, but your hesitance to touch has long dissipated throughout the night, so you don’t entirely mind when he follows you straight in, and you can feel the heat of his presence.

“Are you wanting to go straight to bed?” He asks, hand on your waist as he passes you and heads for the kitchen, flicking on the lights under the cabinets and getting two glasses down from one of the cupboards.

“I probably should,” you huff, despite wanting to stretch this out with Luke - your mind going back to I miss watching movies with you, and considering flopping down onto the couch and putting something on, for old time’s sake. “Is your couch comfy? I don’t really want to sleep in Jack’s bed.”

“You can sleep in mine,” he offers, before he even has a second to consider it.

“Oh, I don’t know-,”

“I’ll go in Jack’s, it’s fine,” he nods down the hall, gesturing you to follow as he carries two glasses of water, knocking the handle to the room on the left until the door opens and letting you go in first. 

The sheets are the same as on his bed back at the lake house, and it’s the first thing that takes you aback, a familiar grey-blue comforter that you already feel the softness of from across the room, and a cream throw haphazardly thrown across the top. 

You can tell the sheets aren’t entirely fresh - slightly crumpled, and not-very-neatly made, pillows askew - but if you’re sleeping in Luke’s bed, weirdly enough, you would probably prefer it that way.

“Sorry, I should have tidied up a little,” he chuckles nervously as he passes you to place a glass down on the nightstand. 

“It’s fine,” you shrug, stepping forward just to fall down onto his bed - the mattress plush enough that you already feel yourself sinking into it, tension easing away from your muscles. 

You’re kind of glad you kept an eye on him, watching his gaze shift to the way your dress now rides up on your thighs, and the bob of his Adam’s apple as he swallows thickly before looking away.

“I’ll just get something to change into then I’ll get outta your hair,” he mumbles, trying to busy himself with something else as a distraction. Just before he can pass you to his closet, you reach out to grab at his wrist, and it’s almost like muscle memory is forcing you to do so - something within you not allowing him to get away.

He’s in front of you now, close enough that you kind of have to crane your neck the whole way to look up at him, and you watch as his eyes drag slowly from the point of contact to meet yours, every movement he makes unhurried and purposeful. 

“I just wanted to say thank you again, for tonight,” you start, speaking without any real plan as to what you want to say, but wanting to keep him just a little longer, “For keeping me company, and letting me stay in here-,”

“It’s no big deal-,”

“And for not letting me push you away.”

It might be the first time you’ve ever owned up to it - being the master of your own downfall, or the downfall of your relationship with Luke, and anything you still could have been after the fact - and it isn’t easy, admitting that you’re the problem.

But you feel like you owe it to him, as a reward for all this resilience in the face of your constant rejection. He’s been nothing but patient, and you’ve been nothing but hard work, and you’re willing to admit, now, that you’re done with it.

He smiles, eyes knowing, the relieved, breathy sigh he gives dissolving all the guilt that’s building in the depths of your gut, and sinks down beside you on the bed, his thigh brushing yours as he settles in. 

Hours ago, being this close would have terrified you. You’d have shut down, turned away, shuffled across the sheets until there was a healthy distance between the two of you, but you don’t move. You just turn, a little, to be able to meet his eye.

“Are you saying you’re done with that?” He asks, a little hesitant, assuming, probably, that you won’t be entirely open with him.

But you nod, chewing at the corner of your bottom lip as he presses his own together, eyes darting a little lower.

“So we’re friends?” He asks, his voice low, the depth of it causing a weird vibration to wrack down your body - a buzz that won’t go away, now that he’s this close, and he’s looking at you the way he is. 

“If that’s what you still want to be.”

The thought of him changing his mind makes you a little dizzy, an ache growing in your chest again at the thought of being nothing - but you’d deserve it, you think, after all the times you turned him down. 

It would hurt, but, as always, it would be your own doing. 

“And we won’t ever be more?”

The pleading tone in which he asks makes the back of your throat go dry, and all you can do to respond, now, is shake your head. Slowly, and hesitantly, but it shakes all the same, tears welling in the corners of your eyes as you take in his resigned acceptance.

And then, something shifts.

A subtle shake of his head, as if he’s fighting an inner monologue, and then an assured switch in his demeanour - a tilt of his head as he surveys your reluctance, and the swipe of his tongue to wet his lips, like he’s preparing to fight back.

“If I kissed you right now,” he asks, voice still low, eyes lower, pinned to the curve of your lips as they part as if by instinct, “Would you tell me to stop?”

“Luke,” you warn, no more than a whisper as you watch his lips too, “We can’t.”

“That’s not what I asked,” his eyes trail slowly up until your gazes meet, and his head tilts again in question, blinking heavily before he asks, “Would you push me away?”

Your lips form around a response that you can’t even think to give back, opening around an answer you’re not ready to give at all, and all your body wants to do is deny. You fight the urge to shake your head, but you think that it’s a losing battle, especially considering how much your brain feels like it’s being rattled around anyway.

You don’t know what you do to make him move forward, but you figure by now you don’t actually have to do anything. He can probably read your mind at this point, spurred on no doubt by the way your eyelids flutter closed when he’s close enough, and the tip of his nose presses to yours, slow, heavy breaths falling into the decreasing space between the two of you. 

You should stop him. You know that.

It isn’t good for either of you, letting this carry on, leaving the edges of your relationship so frayed that even the smallest tug could pull the whole thing apart, thread by thread. 

You should tell him to stop, should push him away, should hold a lighter to the loose ends and singe them together to prevent further damage. You’ve only just settled on friends, and now you’re not sure, again.

But the second he gets this close, you’re not in charge, anymore.

It’s like some force of nature takes over, brings the two of you together like tectonic plates meeting, and causing unfathomable destruction to both of your hearts in the aftermath.  

His kiss is so instantly tender that it hurts already, tears prickling at the seams of your scrunched-closed eyes, and all you can do is push through the pain. You kiss him back, lips closing around his again and again as your faces smush together, and you start to feel the passion consume him - something takes over almost like an urgency, where you’re clawing at his the front of his costume and he’s clutching at your waist, doing anything physically possible to close whatever gap still sits between you.

The pressure of his lips is almost bruising, now, but you like it that way - soft exhales puffing out from his nose so that he doesn’t have to part to catch his breath, fingers pressing so hard into your flesh that you hope they leave a mark.

He tastes just how you remember, and it takes you back all those months to summer - to stolen kisses over centre consoles and making out in his bed when everyone else was out. There’s a part of you that feels giddy with it, just like you had then, partaking in something so precious that was just for the two of you, and it starts to distract you from what this actually is.

A mistake. 

You pull away instead of pushing, bringing your chin back until your lips part with much effort, a hmmph and a furrow of your brow, and you can’t bring yourself to open your scrunched eyes, not yet, but you know when he’s going to chase.

“Luke,” you whisper in warning before your eyes flutter open and you peer up at him through your lashes. He looks so soft, you think, despite all the ways he tries not to. Despite the sharp line of his jaw, and the hardened look in his eyes. You feel your walls crumbling at just the sight of him - defenceless to his charms, once again, because how much could Luke possibly hurt you? “Friends don’t do that.”

“Maybe our friendship starts tomorrow,” he hums back, “Maybe we get this out of our systems one more time.”

And it’s sitting on the precipice of that feeling you’ve been chasing since July that has you considering it - ever so close to finally getting closure on whatever the two of you were, or could have been.

Getting it out of your system sounds healthy. Sounds like a clean slate, a fresh start, and you have no doubt that if you’re going to be friends with Luke Hughes, that it’s exactly what you need in order to do so. 

Because, if you’re honest, it’s that exact thing that’s been holding you back this entire time - closure. With such an abrupt end to what the two of you had, how could you ever possibly close that chapter mid-sentence? How could you ever move on?

“One more time,” you try to sound stern, try to convince yourself of your own words, “Then we have to let this go.”

“You got it.”

“No more Luke, I mean it.” You have to push down this feeling of impending doom, or you’ll never get anywhere, but you need to warn him one last time, just to be safe. “Strictly friends after tonight.”

“I already agreed, can you please just let me kiss you again?”

“Okay, fine, just,” you huff, hands splayed across his broad chest and pushing until your bodies part, his butt shuffling back on the bed. “Take the costume off, first, I’m not feeding into whatever dorky cosplay fetish you probably have.”

You’re only part joking, but it’s the only way you know how to relieve the tension a little, and your nerves start to dissipate at his reaction.

He chuckles, with the kind of cocky smile that makes your heart jump, reaching behind himself to unzip the back of his costume with an affectionate shake of his head. He stands, then, to shuck it off, the whole thing dropping off of him until he kicks it across the floor, towards his laundry hamper, then stands in just his briefs, which are slung low on his waist. “You can keep yours on, I don’t mind,” he tells you when you’re distracted by the taut, defined lines on his stomach, eyes trailing slowly up to meet his, gleaming back at you.

“You’d love that wouldn’t you,” you scoff, watching as he draws closer, shuffling back a little on the bed to accommodate him, “You absolute freak.” 

“You can’t sit there and pretend you don’t want me to call you princess again.” He smirks, bending down until his hands are on either side of your hips, and you’re leaning back with your fingers pressed into his sheets and your head craned back to meet his eye, “Saw you getting all flustered about it, earlier.”

“Shut up,” you huff, curling a hand around the back of his neck and pulling him down into you - the two of you colliding in a clumsy, messy kiss. His body crawls over yours, encapsulating you entirely in an intoxicating warmth, and you find yourself melting into his every touch - large hands running down your sides, settling on your waist, and the other easing its way under the skirt of your costume. 

You put both hands to use too, one remaining behind his neck, scratching into the grown out curls that sit there and tugging when he starts to tickle up your thigh, the other on the warm skin of his chest - the rampant thud of his heart beating against your palm.

One more time, just to get him out of your system.

And then you can be friends.

What could possibly go wrong?

another a/n: I'll try to finish the next part asap!! thank you for reading, I know this was long lmao!! would love to hear your thoughts!!!!

> PART TWO <