#started this post spelling it “I don't know” and ended it by spelling it “I dunno”

[yvaineseleneposts]

The End of the Year, and the Start of Us

A/N: I have been gone, and I am so sorry. The end of the school year is coming! I have so many tests to grade and graduation speeches to write for my graduating class. I am honestly so proud of my students and I don't think my eyes will be dry during graduation, so here is a piece I wrote about that. Also, I am writing a series, but I want it to be more complete when I start posting that.

Requested: no

Pairing: Nico Hischier x reader

Words: under 1k

Warning(s): a lil sad, supportive Nico

The classroom was quiet now.

Streamers drooped lazily from the whiteboard, a few forgotten paper caps scattered on desks like tiny remnants of the celebration. You leaned against your desk, arms crossed, blinking faster than usual as you stared at the chairs that had once held a dozen little lives, now empty.

Graduation day was always like this. Happy. Loud. Proud.

And then, quiet.

The tears had come right on time, just after the last parent had waved goodbye, and your students had walked out of your life a little taller than when they came in.

Earlier in the day, you'd stood on stage with a carefully folded stack of index cards clutched tightly in your hand. You had written a short speech for each of your students — personalized, heartfelt words meant to celebrate their growth, their quirks, their potential. You made it halfway through the third one before your voice cracked. By the time you'd reached the last, you were openly crying — and so were they.

Some hugged you like they never wanted to let go. One slipped a bracelet onto your wrist, handmade with tiny beads spelling "BEST TEACHER." You tried to keep it together, but it was no use. The bond you'd built with these kids had become a part of you.

You hadn’t even noticed Nico standing in the doorway.

“I brought you an iced coffee,” he said softly, holding up the cup like an offering.

You turned around and tried to smile, wiping your eyes with the sleeve of your cardigan.

“Thanks,” you sniffled, taking it with a grateful nod. “You didn’t have to come all the way here.”

He stepped inside, giving the classroom a once-over. “Didn’t want you to be alone today.”

That was the thing about Nico. He didn’t make a big show of things. No dramatic speeches, no trying to fix everything. He just showed up. Solid. Steady.

Kind.

You sipped the coffee and sank down into your chair. “They’re gone. All of them. Just like that.”

He sat on the desk across from yours, leaning forward with his elbows on his knees. “You helped them get here. That’s huge.”

“It feels like losing something.”

He nodded slowly. “I know that feeling.”

You raised an eyebrow. “From hockey?”

“Sort of,” he said, and then shrugged. “When teammates leave. When seasons end. Even when you win, it’s still over.”

You hadn’t thought of it like that.

There was silence for a moment. The soft hum of the building’s AC unit filled the air.

“I just keep wondering if I did enough,” you admitted.

“You did more than enough,” he said quietly. “I’ve seen how much you care. That doesn’t go away when they leave. They’ll remember it.”

You looked at him, really looked this time. His expression was so open, so sure.

Nico reached for your hand across the desk. “This year’s over, yeah. But you’re still here. Still making a difference.”

You squeezed his hand, letting yourself lean into that warmth for a second.

“And,” he added, lips twitching into a crooked smile, “you still have me.”

You laughed through your tears. “Yeah. I do.”

He stood and pulled you gently up to your feet. “Come on. Let’s go celebrate your year.”

You blinked. “Celebrate?”

He grinned now, boyish and sweet. “Ice cream and a long walk. Maybe a little dancing in the kitchen later.”

You shook your head, but you were smiling. “You always know how to make me feel better.”

“Not always,” he said. “But I’m trying.”

You locked the door behind you, taking one last look at the empty classroom. And then Nico wrapped an arm around your shoulder, leading you out into the soft light of the evening.

Another year had ended.

But something else was just beginning.

[serpenttailedangel]

The (entirely undisclosed) writing system Brin came up with in the World of Elan drives me nuts. Symbols were made with consideration for the schwa sound and their version of S looks like an O. (Or at least, whatever the first sound in their word for 'sun' is, that letter looks like an O.) The schwa accommodation alone means it's not the Latin alphabet. The S/O thing is probably further proof it's not the Latin alphabet, but could also indicate they're not speaking English. Which is kind of a moot point because everything pre-Riyria is implicitly localized into English if for no other reason than that most of the Fhrey language is blatantly localized and in Legends and also the old writing in Riyria does not match modern speech which is, itself, portrayed in English.

Anyway, it's not the Latin alphabet nor does it seem to be a cipher of the Latin alphabet because, again, it's got schwas. Assuming I read the bit about Brin and Roan discussing schwas correctly, anyway.

So they're not speaking English probably and they're also definitely not writing with the Latin alphabet or a 1:1 cypher... yet in Death of Dulgath, Payne makes a point of explicitly stating that his name is spelled with a Y and an E rather than an I, and Royce later makes a quip about his name being Pain after all.

(Not even gonna get into all the other times etymology is made up for words in the story, or the apparent vowel shift that managed to happen during the only few centuries of the empire where reading was wide-spread.)

I understand this is all still something that can be handwaved by saying "it's just localized into English" but my brain is still churning over this. Like...

Royce's whole entire name comes from a misread of Roy, a couple city segments reduced to initials, and someone slurring the words "male" and "born" together. And I'm gonna just ignore that the E in Royce is silent and the implications that has on the in-story alphabet. I'm not ignoring it. "Royce" only has three phonemes in it and even if you assume that the actual city section symbols were swapped out for Latin alphabet letters, how much space does that leave for the name Turin claimed while dropping him off at the orphanage? Did Brin invent a whole entire alphabet with useless extra letters despite her writing system actually being tailored for the language it was made in? Did the local language morph to the point of dropping certain sounds but keeping the old spelling, thus generating silent letters? Why? The vowel shift that I said I wasn't gonna get into seems, at least from how I read it, to mean that words are outright spelled differently between Fariland and Esrahaddon's time, which seems to imply that they adjust spellings to stick to pronunciation more readily than English does. But his last name is just comes from slurring the words "male" and "born" together. Given that there's no necessary reason for those words to be the same, what's his real name.

I understand that any second-world fantasy I read that uses names that sound like English words technically has this problem, but most of them don't also reference inventing an a writing system that explicitly isn't English and then making me think about it.

Realistically, I don't want Tolkien levels of worldbuilding. I like conlangs and fantasy writing systems, but when they're on the level of needing to read an appendix to learn that the fantasy language actually has a formal and informal you but only in certain cultures and some of the characters didn't use it and there were nuances to the social interactions I read that went overlooked due to all utterances of "you" being translated with the same word in English, you are expecting too much of me as a reader. But like... there is a little part of me that wants to know what their real names are when you tie their names to a bunch of words that I'm assuming were localized.

Also I'd like a Fhrey dictionary. I just... I need to know the pattern for the words. I want this.

[mechazushi]

After the Fall {AN ACTUAL SHORT STORY THIS TIME} [Kaiju No. 8] (Could be considered as possible Ep11 spoilers; interpreted artistically)

^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^^

"Kafka Hibino." Captain Mina Ashiro started, "No. Kaiju Number Eight. I am taking you into custody." She leveled her gun to him. Her voice as steady as her hands, taking care not to let an ounce of sadness that had filled her soul melt her outward resolve. The companies were distraught and heavily wounded. Most of the infrastructure in the training area had been reduced to ash. An arched border line had been etched into the pavement around them. One side was mostly intact with spider cracks in various locations. The other side was a pale, dusty mess. No surface from the border and beyond was traversable with all of it being splintered, jutting, and uneven.

At the peak of the arch stood a half dissolved monster, melting back into a man. When the flecks peeled off and drifted into the remnants of the wind, a face began to emerge. Kafka Hibino, the former member of the Third Division had ousted himself as the elusive Kaiju Number Eight. He stood stone still, letting fragments of his alter form slough off as he never took his eyes off his captor. He wanted to think he knew what she was thinking, that this is just protocol, that there was no place in her heart that harbored ill will or intent. Mina wouldn't use her gun against him, right? They could still be friends, that he could still fight for his spot at her side.

He couldn't tell. Mina was unreadable as ever and Kafka couldn't blame her. He had been reprimanded enough times to know that this was just how she had to be in front of others in the Division. Her place wasn't a position where she was afforded the leeway to be physically emotional. Emotion was considered weakness, and she had to be strong for the others. To the officers, she was being seen as a strong captain, standing against a Daikaiju threat. It didn't matter that this was Kafka, that everyone had seen that it was Kafka who made a harrowing choice to save the lives of thousands. All they saw now was a monster, no matter how human and familiar its face was.

"Hoshina. I need you to cuff him." Captain Ashiro commanded. Hoshina heard, but was refusing to act. He couldn't bring himself to look at the situation in front of him. A man he trusted, a man he had considered as a friend and compatriot, was confirmed to be a threat to the world. Hoshina wasn't sure at the beginning what Kafka's circumstances were. He knew that things were off, but he chose to ignore them. The whole reason for letting Kafka join as a cadet was so Hoshina could investigate him, and he failed to do even that. All because he couldn't look past his smile. How could a man with a smile so bright and genuine ever be a threat to others. He didn't believe it, refused to believe it. He wasn't going to slap cuffs on a man that didn't have a threatening bone in his body.

But was he a man? Everyone saw Kafka gain impossible speed. They all saw Kafka, as a kaiju, blast into the sky and launched the bomb to a safer distance. Was Kafka a kaiju now because he was strong and dangerous? Or was he still a man because he understood sacrifice? Kaijus didn't need to deal with pesky feelings. They didn't have to worry about what others thought of them. All there was in kaiju minds was to eat and destroy. Kafka could express emotion, and has expressed desire outside of destruction. If Kafka knew that others would turn and run in fear if they knew what he was and what he could do, why did he do it anyway?

"Hoshina." Captain Ashiro commanded again, dislodging her Vice Captain from his thoughts. He still didn't want to do this, still choosing to believe in the man behind the monster's mask, but it wasn't a good idea to make the Captain repeat herself. Reaching into his side pouch, he dug up one of the plastic handcuffs that most officers are issued with. They were issued with the intent that defense members might encounter people taking the opportunity for ransacking during invasions and could preform arrests until the offender could be picked up by proper authorities. Hoshina walked up to Kafka and held the industrial zip-tie in his hands. Every neuron in his skull felt like it was screaming in retaliation, making his hands hesitate in the action of placing Kafka under physical arrest. He almost wanted to laugh. Did anyone here actually think that these meager restraints could hold back a person with a registered fortitude rating? Kafka slowly held out his wrists in front of him, looking like a toddler that was expecting a ruler to come down on them in punishment.

"It's okay. I know." Kafka whispered imperceptibly to him. His head was bowed solemnly, but he looked at Hoshina as his face remained ever reassuring. He almost felt like slapping the look off of him. How dare he act like this. How dare he try to be apologetic and caring for others in this situation. Why couldn't he be an asshole and run, fight, do anything to save himself. For god's sake, why can't he be selfish. Having to deal with a daikaiju on the loose would have been less gut wrenching than having to send a fellow soldier to an uncertain fate.

"Captain Ashiro, I can explain-" Reno Ichikawa was shouting as he came barreling over the fallen debris as nimbly as possible. Following behind at a much slower pace was Kikoru Shinomiya.

"Save it Officer Ichikawa!" Ashiro barked at him, "Telling by your outburst at this time of all places, tells me you have some knowledge on this as well." she holstered her side arm now that Kafka had been successfully restrained.

"You too, Shinomiya. Hoshina told me about his suspicions about how you managed to neutralize the honju at the acceptance trials earlier this year and with you showing up behind Ichikawa here, I can assume that you're in on this too." She began to wordlessly direct those around her and made moves to stand behind Kafka and Hoshina.

"Okonogi, send several vehicles over to the training area. We have multiple wounded and a lot of tired soldiers that I think would rather drive than walk back to barracks. Leader Ebina, gather some of your people and start marking a path through the rubble so we can transport the wounded."

"Roger that, Captain. Do you want me to send an armored vehicle for Kaiju Number Eight?" replied Okonogi. Captain Ashiro looked hard at Kafka, now back to appearing completely human and in the plastic cuffs. Hoshina was looking right at the captain. Blood had stopped dripping down his face minutes ago, but it was still clear that he wasn't in any shape to fight anything more powerful than a mouse right now. She took in the fact that his hands were placed gently on top of Kafka's limply curled fists, a sight that Kafka couldn't pull his eyes away from.

"No. Leave the armored vehicle for now. We might need it to be fueled and stocked for whatever happens tomorrow." Ashiro replied back after serious consideration. With most of the Division looking the way it did, and the person most capable of going head to head with a daikaiju of small size looking like death warmed over, she acknowledged the fact that Kafka; or Kaiju Number Eight, she hadn't stopped her brain from fluctuating between the two, hadn't taken the opportunity to bolt for the hills. She figured if he was going to try anything, he would have as soon as she leveled her sidearm at him. In the bright moonlight over head, she could see the person she once considered a friend chuckle noticeably.

"Thanks for that, Captain Ashiro. Those trucks don't have the best air condi-"

"Save it. I don't want to hear another word from you tonight." Captain Ashiro commanded. She could clearly see the word's effect on him as he visibly flinched at her sharp tone. As the officers around her got into position and steadied their hands on their rifles, she pointed her finger off over Hoshina's shoulder, indicating that they should start moving. Kafka's feet regretfully began to shuffle around to face the direction he was supposed to go in, but when he tried to take an actual step he hissed loudly and nearly collapsed to his knees onto the pavement. Hoshina didn't think for a second as he rushed forward to catch him before he landed, propping himself under Kafka's broad chest and grabbing his shoulder to keep him balanced. The chorus of six safety switches all clicking off in unison could be heard behind the two of them.

"Shit- Sorry, sorry! Knees were locked." Kafka said, glancing over his and Hoshina's connected bodies.

"Sorry." He added, seemingly addressed to no one in particular.

'Maybe that was addressed to all of us.' Hoshina thought as he helped Kafka readjust to his feet. Once he felt okay enough to walk, he began to move forward at a sluggish pace. It was clear to Hoshina that he wasn't walking slow on purpose, and that it really must have taken a lot out of him to propel himself into the air and sucker punch a twenty kiloton yoju bomb into the lower stratosphere. Hoshina kept a hand on Kafka's upper back as he gently guided him through the path Ebina's team had marked earlier. With the moment they were in being as quiet as possible, save for the occasional echoing crash of broken rubble hitting the ground all around them, Hoshina took a second to think.

'I mean, when you think about it, that should be enough to knock the wind out of anyone capable of doing that in that sort of situation.' He stunned himself with the words in his head. How could he even try and logic out what a man with the power of turning into a Kaiju was even qualified to accomplish? This whole situation was absurd and he hated it. He hated everything in that moment. He hated Kafka for putting himself in danger, he hated Captain Ashiro knowing she was only doing her job, he hated himself because he was the one who told Kafka not to get attached to others on the job because God only knows what could happen and here he was, feeling attached knowing damn well that he was going to feel like shit because he was basically loosing the best damn thing this Division had going for it!

Hoshina couldn't writhe in his personal hell for much longer as the group had made it to the busted doors of the training grounds. The remnants of his fight with Kaiju Number Ten as well as debris from the explosion had all been pushed to the sides as best as possible. A few tents had been erected to preform triage and separate the barely scratched from the mortally wounded and treat them appropriately. A rotating convoy of open air trucks and military jeeps were set up at the far end of the street carrying the tired and lightly wounded to somewhere else on base for rest, if it was available for most. All activity seemed to slow, almost stopping in some areas as Kafka led his paltry parade showcasing his imprisonment through the masses. It almost felt like a display of a man being condemned. Okonogi pulled ahead of the line in her own commandeered jeep and pulled it to a stop in front of Kafka and Ashiro. The captain told the six behind her to grab a vehicle for themselves and follow close behind, before wordlessly hopping into the passenger seat of the car. As Hoshina hopped in the exposed backseat, he could hear Kafka groan and hiss as he settled into the spot on the bench next to him.

"Hssssss, haaaa, hoooo. Wow, sitting down. A novel idea. Who knew?" Kafka talked exhaustedly as he fumbled with the lap belt using his restrained hands.

"Miss Okonogi, not to presumptuously assume your driving skills, but you mind being careful and avoiding potholes and barricades on the way to my cell. I'm gonna take a nap." Kafka's head slumped unceremoniously against the metal bar framing the back of the jeep and immediately started to breath heavily, almost as if he was asleep already. His closed eyes meant he didn't get to see Mina's irritated glare she sent his way before she took the clipboard that Okonogi brought with her. Hoshina rested his elbow against the car's sidewall and placed his face in his hand, staring at an unaware Kafka.

'He's asleep. This no good, dirty, rotten, lying, mutant Kaiju bastard is asleep?' Hoshina thought angrily. As he felt the car move forward and tuned out Captain Ashiro and Okonogi's conversation, he realized all he could think about in that moment was him.

'A man saves an entire base and this is how we thank him.' Hoshina's inner monologue continued. He knew he wasn't the only one here who felt like this, and when the news got out in the morning he was sure lots of others were going to have mixed feelings on this as well. Arresting him was for the best, he knew that as well. Good intentions or no, human or no, it didn't change the fact that Kafka can become a kaiju. The whole purpose of the Divisions was to eliminate kaijus. The fact that Kafka was allowed to breathe, let alone sitting in the back of a car with the two most powerful people on base at rock bottom of their best, spoke volumes about how crazy and fucked up these circumstances were. Protocol was kill on sight, and Kafka knows this. Yet here he was, sleeping the rest of his freedom away.

'It wouldn't be hard, either.' Hoshina thoughts continued, 'I may not be able to put up a good fight at the moment, but we can assume he's mostly human right now. He's asleep and tired, which means he's vulnerable' He played with the tip of the handle connected to his sword. 'I could end it all for him right now and he wouldn't be wiser.'

But he wouldn't. Hoshina couldn't lay any hand on him with deadly and harmful intent behind it, now and forever. Monster or Human, it didn't matter anymore. Nothing could ever change the fact that Hoshina had one percent of trust in this man right now. And he wondered if Kafka could feel that too, because why else could he be so blissfully asleep right now.

'He's not going to be like that for long.' Hoshina thought bitterly. The protocol was kill on sight for honju and yoju, yes, but that stopped at daikaiju. they were killed like any other threat, but whatever that was left of the body after the fight was sent off for research. Research and experimentation. Hoshina knew that it was a snowball's chance in hell that the leaders of the Defense Force were just going to let them keep Kafka on base, but were they going to let Kafka stay alive and intact? Hoshina could feel his heart be poisoned and start to cramp up at the thought. He had to look away for a moment , lest tears started to mix with the blood and stain his cheeks even more. It took several sharp breaths and a solid minute of mental filing to help his chest feels normal again.

Hoshina tried to take another look at the mystery that was his fellow soldier. A face as still as a forest pond, covered in already healed scratches. Light from the moon created soft shadows on his eyelids and neck. flickering and shifting in tandem with the shakes and jolts coming from the moving jeep. His worker's tan looking more pronounced than it usually did. Kafka looked stoic and peaceful, which created a stark contrast to the unearthly and demonic visage Hoshina has associated with Kaiju Number Eight. It was an awful situation Hoshina found himself in.

On one hand, he wanted to come across the bench and hold him. Whisper calmly in his ear that everything was going to be okay. That he won't have to worry about whatever that's going to come for him in the morning. On the other hand, he wanted to be the one that was being held. To have all those sweet and empty promises whispered back at him, to be told that things would be fine for him too. Kafka won't have to leave the base, that this whole kaiju transformation business was just the concussion talking, and the base will be back to operational in no time at all.

None of those things were going to happen. The base reconstruction was going to take forever, Kafka was going to have to leave, and nothing was going to be fine. Hoshina turned away again, feeling the chest tightening again and wanted to keep his tears to himself for the time being. He couldn't cry now because there was a superior officer present and didn't also want to wake Kafka. He couldn't cry in the morning because he needed to be strong in the face of whatever decision that was to come down on his officer's head. As the first shifts of color indicative of the approaching dawn began to brighten the night sky, Hoshina tamped down every bit of emotion he had to let out later into the first few minutes of however much sleep he was going to get in those twilight hours.

This was going to be a rough few months, wasn't it?

[david-talks-sw]

any new Star Wars essays in the making, or are you moving on?

I don't know, honestly.

Part of it is "life gets in the way," I'm working a lot and so whatever time I have left is spent just messing around or meeting with my loved ones.

I've got a bunch of stuff in my drafts. I don't mind sharing it here, most recent to oldest:

Sort of a joke post of me pointing out how stressful being George Lucas' producer must've been, like this guy really DIDN'T WANT to write his fucking scripts, did he? Poor Rick McCallum. Abandoned because who gives a crap.

'Ask' reply on how EU-fueled fandom perception of the Jedi was flipped by the prequels.

'Ask' reply about the themes in Ahsoka and why the show doesn't know what it's about. Problem is, I go about it starting from the basics, so nobody's gonna sit through reading a tematic breakdown of the first Pirates of the Carribean movie, The Batman and the original six Star Wars films before I even get to the show at hand.

"Part II" post about what Ahsoka, Rebels and TCW get right about lightsaber duels, which the Prequels never did.

Quote collection & analysis on just how complex the Prequels were meant to be (in the late 80s, Lucas intimated that the Sequels were the story that was supposed to have gray morality, not the Prequels)

Quote collection on how the themes and principles of Star Wars align with Lucas' own opinions and philosophies.

Quote collection on Lucas defining Anakin's flaws.

Quote collection on Lucas talking about the fact that we need to be more proactive, which aligns with what Lumi points out sometimes about the Jedi: they should've been more politically engaged because we all should be.

Why I approach Lucas as "word of god".

Personal life/joke-y post dating from the time of the WGA strike about how Jack Black's School of Rock lyrics "In his heart he knew, the artist must be true, but the legend of the rent was way past due!" applied to me. Abandoned because I didn't wanna bum everyone out.

Correcting the notion that Dark Times-era Jedi such as Kanan or Ezra or Ahsoka represent what Jedi were supposed to be.

A comprehensive end-all outlook on how Anakin's flaws all tie together. I've written this one twice and I don't know how to differentiate it from my other posts.

A secret "Part 3" to my TLJ Luke post, in which I point out that RJ's being too "indie", while being a strong point for a big chunk of the film, hampers the film's ability to make Luke feel as badass as he does on paper. I want to illustrate a storyboard for this one, but that takes time.

The evolution of Star Wars' approach to transmedia.

Debunking Star Wars myths: a (very) comprehensive outlook on children in the Jedi Order.

Problem is that only like 2/3rds of these are fully-written... and I still need to find the relevant clips, turn them into GIFs, etc etc.

There's many other interesting Asks in my inbox btw. But I'm already behind on all these, so I haven't begun to touch them.

Then there's the drawings.

I wanna draw a comic of the meeting between Yoda and Dooku in Dark Rendezvous. I wanna finish the comic fight between Maul and Ben. I wanna draw Mace, Shaak Ti, I've got a Luminara fan-art that was supposed to be ready for Jedi June 2022 and an Anakin drawing that looks weird. No time, nor am I skilled enough. (Like, I trace, that's what I do, it's not a secret I've said so before... but it takes me a long while to do so. I'm not fast at drawing, let alone coloring.) I could commission some of these, but there are obvious obstacles there.

There's fun tidbits I've discovered here and there but nobody will care about them and I usually try to not drown my blog with bs posts.

Then there's the bigger problem.

All the things I've listed above? I'm not 100% motivated to finish. But a lot of the new stuff I wanna write about is hella negative.

I had a lot of stuff I wanted to say about Ahsoka. But it wasn't all good. It was mostly me bitching, be it about the show or the fandom's reactions to it.

I've also got more stuff to say about Filoni's take on Star Wars, but I've talked about why it's inaccurate like 8 times already, and I don't actually dislike the guy, like there's plenty of things he knows and does that I think are awesome but also people won't stop putting him and his takes on a pedestal and--

oh shit, there's Acolyte too, I forgot about that, gray morality galore, here we come. But here too, like... I've talked a couple of times about why this entire gray morality thing is actually just the gen X-ers trying to make the prequels "cool" and "complex". but I've never explored properly, with quotes and research and shit. but i've talked about it so many times that at this point it'd end up like the Filoni rants, redundant. "we get it already." as if this show didn't have haters lined round the block for absolutely sexist reasons.

Don't get me started on the mountain of lies and/or idiocy that is the YouTuber Star Wars Theory.

And yet he said one thing a few months ago which struck a chord within me and it's the fact that Andor is awesome, excels on all levels because it's treated seriously, like a proper show, not a Disney Plus one... why wasn't Obi-Wan Kenobi? Why wasn't Book of Boba Fett? And I've already established multiple times that I enjoyed Kenobi (yes, including the Reva parts) and I've established that I know what they were going for in Fett and I've established that this is mainly a "Disney Plus didn't know how to structure a fucking show pre-WGA strike" issue more than anything else... but when I think about how these could've been treated instead? When I look at the characterizations and emotional stakes of like Fargo Season 5? It's infuriating. Because it's not bad (talking about Kenobi, BOBF is awful)... but it could've been EXCELLENT and instead it was just "okay" to "good".

I just miss live action lightsaber duels, man. Like, good ones.

and i dunno. maybe I should just let it rip on all this. "go off, king!"

but I think there's so much negativity re: Star Wars that adding my thoughts on these subjects, no matter how structured and reason, will just blend into a wave of needless, un-constructive hate.

maybe I should finish the writings in the drafts and just post them with no gifs, maybe just still images?

but doing any of that feels like a step back.

So that's where I'm at right now.

[nekovale]

So, I don't know how many Bsd fans are also Fate/Stay Night fans...... BUT I AM and this is the only reason this exists Fate is one of my favorite series and I was listening to the Fate/Zero ost one day because it's one of my fav ost ever... and I started thinking about a possible crossover and it kinda snowballed from there lol Explanations and ramblings under the cut!

For who doesn't know what Fate/Stay Night is about: the gist of it is there's a recurring event where seven mages (masters) summon seven heroic spirits (servants) who fight between each other to win the Holy Grail. Basic things to know are: servants are divided in classes and each has a Noble Phantasm, aka a servant's ultimate weapon/ability; each master has three command spells which compel the servant to obey to three absolute orders; servants need mana to keep existing. said mana is usually provided by the master, but can also be transferred with bodily fluids (that includes sex) The pairs I had thought of for this au are: - berserker!Chuuya + Dazai (in this case the berserker's typical madness happens only with Corruption, which is Chuuya's Noble Phantasm and can be stopped only using a command spell) - saber!Akutagawa + Atsushi - caster!Nikolai + Fyodor - lancer!Bram + Aya - assassin!Nathaniel + Margareth - archer!Mark Twain + Lucy I have absolutely NO idea who to cast as rider lol Kunikida is the Church's overseer though (an impartial judge for the Holy War) I've thought about these combinations for fun since I don't have an overarching plot or anything, just some little disconnected scenes, but I liked the possible interactions with these pairs. I wanted to have characters from the main factions in the series (so like, the Port Mafia, the Agency, the Guild...) but since servants are heroic spirits of the past (and in this au they're not their irl literary counterparts, but characters on their own. Chuuya's real identity would be Arahabaki, etc) I wanted to pick characters who also could have a particular design while fitting the role........... I wanted to put Lovecraft in there too but he's definitely a berserker and I'm not giving up Chuuya for it lol This wip has been eating my brain for literal months, so here it is!! It got me back into doodling just for fun so it was a good time. I actually have more sketches but I feel like these are already a lot lol...... so I'll post those at a later time (also because I'm rewatching ubw now so I might end up doing more....)

[hauntedhowlett-writes]

ROOM FOR RENT

PAIRING: logan howlett x female reader

RATING: explicit (18+) | WORD COUNT: 5.3k

SUMMARY: logan finds a new roommate.

AUTHOR’S NOTE: i have logan howlett brain rot and i’m not sorry. big smooch to everyone who let me yell about this to them including @eupheme @pedgito @wannab-urs @chaotic-mystery @kedsandtubesocks @undrthelights and @murder-wife 💕

WARNINGS: post deadpool & wolverine, variant!logan howlett, able bodied reader, reader being picked up (enhanced strength babyyyy), roommates to lovers trope, meddlesome pet cat, a splash of canon typical violence - mentions of blood and knife wounds, wade wilson/deadpool appearances, mild angst, explicit sexual content (18+ minors do not interact) - dirty talk, pain kink, biting, pet names, praise kink, oral sex - m & f receiving, a little dacryphilia during a blowjob, multiple orgasms, unprotected p in v, begging, size kink. if i’ve missed any, please let me know!

LINKS: masterlists | support for palestine

If Logan has to wake up to Wade's constant yapping for the rest of his life, he's going to go insane. Every morning he's jolted awake by Wade singing in the kitchen. When he notices Logan is awake, the singing stops and the one-sided conversation begins and doesn't end until Logan finally gets up from the couch and leaves the apartment with nothing but the clothes on his back.

Today, with some money in his pocket from a few odd jobs he's picked up, he finds solace in a quiet coffee shop. Sat beside a bulletin board, he scans the postings.

Art show, art show, yard sale, job opening, roommate wanted, art show--

Roommate wanted? Logan tears the paper from the pin.

Room for rent in 2 bedroom/1 bathroom apartment. One cat. Laundry on site.

He folds the ad up and stuffs the paper in the pocket of his jacket before gathering his empty coffee cup and tossing it in the trash on the way out the door, an uncharacteristic spring in his step.

Your phone rings with a number you don't recognize. You consider sending it to voicemail, already exhausted from fielding similar calls about your room for rent, but ultimately decide to answer.

"Hello?"

A man clears his throat on the other end of the line before responding with, "This the number for the rental?"

"Yep," you reply. "Were you interested in seeing it or have any questions?"

"How much is it?"

"Your half would be $950.”

"And it's a whole bedroom?"

"As opposed to a half bedroom?" You laugh at your joke but the man remains quiet and you wince. "I mean, yes. It's a whole bedroom."

"I'd like to come see it, if you've got the time."

"Sure, how's this Friday sound?" You suggest. "What's your full name?"

"Why do you need to know that?" The man's tone grows defensive and alarm bells ring in your head.

"Well, I'd like to make sure you're not, like, a wanted criminal or something," you tell him with an awkward laugh. He's quiet and for a moment you think that he may have hung up on you. "Hello?"

"Yeah, 'm still here," he sighs. "Name's Logan Howlett."

"Logan Howlett," you repeat. You give him your name in return, though he doesn't do much but grunt in acknowledgment. "Alright, well, do you have something to write down the address?"

"Just tell me, I'll remember."

After listing off the address, he ends the call with a rough goodbye. You get to work on your personal research, entering his name into a search engine.

No results.

You refresh the page, thinking that must be an error, but the same message appears.

No results.

You try spelling his name differently.

No results.

You set the phone down, anxiety starting to creep up your spine. It's hard to believe that there's absolutely nothing online about this man, who now has your full address, name, and phone number.

A sharp meow shakes you from your thoughts and you find that your cat has taken up residence on your lap, staring at you intently as his tail flicks back and forth. You run your hand over his head, scratching beneath his chin.

"You'll protect me, right?" You ask.

He leaps from your lap and struts away, fluffy tail disappearing down the hall that leads to your bedroom. You sigh.

Hopefully you haven’t just done something stupid.

Logan's attempt to leave the apartment unnoticed does not go as planned. Althea is sitting on the couch, a re-run of a talk show playing loudly, when he tries to make a run for it. He's distracted, watching her too carefully that he doesn't realize Wade has just returned from god-knows-where.

"Whatcha doin', twinkle toes?" Wade asks, startling Logan, who slams into the kitchen table with a curse.

"Fucking hell," Logan curses, rubbing his hip. "When did you get in here?"

Wade shrugs. "Sometime around the start of your 007 impression."

"My what?"

"Nevermind," Wade sighs. "You look snazzy. Got a hot date?"

"No," Logan grunts.

"A cold date, then?"

Logan pinches his nose. "No."

"Well, care to share, sugar plum? What's got you sneaking around like the Black Widow?"

"The who?"

"May she rest in peace," Wade says, tone suddenly somber.

"He's tryin' to move out," Althea chimes in. Wade's mouth drops open in shock.

"You're abandoning us?!" he exclaims. "After all we've been through?"

"Let the man do what he wants," Althea says. "Damn co-dependent freak."

"Harsh," - Wade places a hand over his chest, -"you know I have daddy issues. And mommy issues. And abandonment issues. And--"

"Enough," Logan snaps. "Yes, alright? I'm looking for a new place. I can't sleep on that couch forever."

"Is it because it smells like old people?" Wade whispers, pointing an accusatory finger to Althea, who flips him off.

"Look, this is your universe. Your timeline. Mine is gone and it's time I start making this whole thing less temporary."

Wade tilts his head and places a hand on Logan's shoulder. "My little Wolvie, all grown up," he says, wiping at a fake tear. Logan shoves his hand away, storming past him for the door.

"Remember to smile! Give 'em the ol' razzle dazzle!" Wade shouts as he slams the door behind him.

You pace your small living room and check the stove clock for the hundredth time in the past five minutes. Logan is due to see the apartment and your nerves have gone from a simmer to a full blown boil waiting for the mysterious man with no digital footprint to show up. Your cat is lounging on the windowsill, blissfully unaware of your inner panic.

Three sharp knocks at the door cause your pulse to skyrocket. You take a deep breath before crossing the short distance to the door, pulling it open with a smile.

"Hi! You must be--“

Your greeting dies on your tongue as you take in the man crowding your hallway. He's wearing a leather jacket over a white tank top that stretches tightly across a broad chest and jeans that highlight thick thighs. His dark hair is cut shorter on the sides than on the top of his head, the ends fanning out in a manner that reminds you of a cat's ears and he's sporting an impressively thick beard.

"'m Logan," he says in the same deep voice you heard over the phone, holding a hand out towards you. You slip your palm against his much larger one and you're surprised by how warm his touch is.

"H-hi," you stutter, shaking his hand. You clear your throat. "Sorry, hi. Uh, come on in."

You move aside to let him through the doorway, not missing the fact that his shoulders practically brush the frame as he steps inside. Your apartment opens up directly into the living room and kitchen with a small dining area set in between and you gesture around.

"Well, this is most of it, to be honest. I know it's not much but--"

"It's quiet," Logan interrupts. "Ain't used to quiet."

"Where, uh," -- you twist the hem of your shirt -- "where are you coming from? Exactly?"

"Kind of a long story. Right now I sleep on a couch in a shitty one bedroom apartment shared by an asshole who doesn't shut the fuck up and a blind cocaine addict."

"Oh," you reply, nodding despite your lack of understanding. "Yeah, it's just me here. Well, and Dumpling."

"Dumpling?"

As if summoned by his name, your cat appears, making a swift beeline for the newcomer. He twists around Logan's legs, butting his head against his shins. You bend down, scooping him up in your arms.

"This is Dumpling. He's cute, but he'll knock over any plants so I wouldn't recommend you take up indoor gardening if you decide to live here." Logan eyes Dumpling warily before holding a hand out. Dumpling sniffs his fingers daintily and rubs head against his palm. "I think he likes you."

Logan huffs, the sound close to a laugh, and it makes you smile. He looks up at you and for a moment you forget that you're complete strangers who have just met. He feels inexplicably familiar, his presence comforting, and you're surprised by it.

"Let's look at the bedroom," you finally say, breaking the moment. You turn, heading for the hall and he follows behind you, steps surprisingly light for such a large man. You take him to the last door at the end of the hall and enter the empty room. "This is it. It's kind of small, but all the rooms in New York are pretty much shoe boxes. It's got a closet and access to the fire escape, though.”

"Better than the couch," he says, looking around the room. "You said $950?"

"Plus half of the utilities," you add. He nods.

"Look, I'll be honest. I'm...between jobs right now." He sighs. "And my schedule can be...unpredictable."

"Oh," you mumble. You think about it for a moment. Renting the apartment to Logan would be a risk but...you can't help but notice that exhaustion in his eyes, how it's clear he's trying to get back on his feet in one way or another. "That's okay. We can work something out."

He raises an eyebrow at you. "Really? You sure about that?"

Were you?

"Yeah," you reply. "I'm sure."

Having a roommate is...an adjustment.

Logan is great. He does his dishes in a timely manner, doesn't leave any clothes on the bathroom floor, and even cleans Dumpling's litter box from time to time.

But he drives you insane and it has nothing to do with his qualities as a roommate and everything to do with how unbearably attractive he is. He could be doing the most mundane activity and suddenly you're more turned on than a faucet on full blast. On top of it all, he's surprisingly sweet for such a gruff man.

Currently, you're watching him pour himself a glass of whiskey. You know he's probably preparing to take the drink to his room so that he can have a cigar on the fire escape, but you find yourself wanting his company.

"Logan?" you ask. He looks at you over his shoulder.

"Yeah, bub?"

"Would you...want to watch a movie? With me?"

He turns to fully face you, leaning against the counter and taking a sip of his drink, dark eyes on you over the rim of the glass. You swallow nervously, prepared to retract your offer and hide out in your room for the rest of eternity, but he puts you out of your misery.

"Sure." He comes over to the couch, taking a seat that's a respectable distance away. "What are we watching?"

"Have you seen The Greatest Showman?"

A musical. He's sitting through a goddamn musical.

"You kinda look like that guy," you say from beside him. Logan tilts his head.

"I don't see it."

"It's the bone structure."

"I'm bigger than him." You mumble something under your breath that he doesn't quite catch, though he thinks it sounded suspiciously like yeah, you are. "You say somethin'?"

"Huh?" You shake your head. "No, nope. Didn't say anything."

Logan relaxes against the back of the couch, settling in. You're curled up against the armrest, a blanket covering your legs and your arms wrapped around a throw pillow. You look relaxed, at ease, a stark contrast to how you had been when he first moved in. You spent more of your time hidden in your room and he's happy to see you're getting more comfortable around him.

It's also torture. You're like a drug that he can't get enough of, a high that doesn't last long enough. He clings desperately to every smile you grace him with and falls asleep with the sound of your voice echoing in his head. He wakes up looking forward to seeing you, even if it's just in passing before you head out for your very normal job as part of your very normal life.

That's what gives him pause. You're not like him, not built for violence, and he would never drag you into that life. He thinks about Vanessa and Wade and the wedge that was driven between them they're working to repair and he can't bear the thought of having you just to lose you.

Logan's so lost in his own thoughts he doesn't realize that the movie has ended and you haven't moved. Your head is angled in a way that has to be uncomfortable, your mouth dropped open as you breathe slowly and deeply. He grabs the remote from the coffee table and turns the TV off, plunging the room into darkness as he stands and quietly approaches you.

He slides one arm beneath your knees and using the other to support your back, lifts you from the couch. You settle your head against his chest but otherwise your sleep remains undisturbed as he carries you down the hall into your room.

It's not the first time he's been in your personal space. One time he woke up to Dumpling clawing at his chest and he marched the animal back to your room for the night, barging in on you while you had been up reading. He remembers the queen sized bed in a wooden frame and a dresser with a drawer that won't shut take up most of the space, the plain white of your walls replaced by a soft blue. You've installed what he first thought were regular shelves but later learned are meant for Dumpling to use for late night acrobatics that he can sometimes hear from his room.

Logan sets you gently on your bed and pulls the quilt up to your shoulders. Before he can think better of it, he reaches a hand toward your face, tracing his thumb over the high point of your cheek. You turn towards the sensation, chasing his touch, and his chest grows tight. He sighs, stepping back and turning for the door.

Dumpling sits in the doorway, flicking his tail. Logan steps around him into the hallway, the cat's gaze following him.

"Shut up," he whispers.

Dumpling meows in return.

You're disoriented when you wake the next morning. The last thing you remember is being on the couch with Logan and watching The Greatest Showman, but somehow you've ended up in your room. You turn over in bed to find Dumpling on your other pillow, curled in a ball.

"Morning, Dumpy," you murmur, scratching his head. "How'd we end up here?"

Dumpling blinks unhelpfully at you before uncurling from his spot and hopping from the bed, leaving through your open door. It's then that you notice that you can hear grunting noises coming from the living room.

You get up to investigate and stop dead in your tracks, mouth dropping open when you find the source of the noise is a shirtless Logan doing push ups on the living room floor. The broad muscles of his back ripple with each movement, each push accompanied by a small grunt that makes your thighs clench together, imagining him making that noise when--

Logan stops, jumping to his feet and you shake your head free of the salacious image it began to create. He turns, giving you an uninhibited view of his thick chest that's covered in dark hair that trails down over defined abs before disappearing beneath the elastic of his sweatpants. You have to say something, anything, but your brain is full of static, unable to operate when he's standing there looking like that.

"Morning," he says.

"Good morning!" you reply, voice pitched higher than usual. You walk past him in a way you hope is casual, heading for the kitchen and prepping the coffee machine. "You got any plans today?"

"Got a friend who needs my help with something. Don't know when I'll be back." His voice is much closer than you expected and you turn from the counter to find him right behind you, a scant few inches of space between your bodies.

"Oh?" you whisper, keeping your gaze firmly on his face. "Is everything okay?"

"It will be."

He drifts impossibly closer, chest nearly brushing yours. Your heart pounds in your chest, a frantic rhythm that's become familiar ever since Logan entered your life. Reaching above your head, he grabs two mugs in one large hand, setting them on the counter behind you before taking a step back and turning to head for his room without another glance in your direction.

You sag against the counter, a wave of lust addled adrenaline crashing over you and leaving you breathless. The last thing you need to be doing is getting involved with your roommate, no matter how tempting he may be.

Dumpling jumps up on the counter beside the coffee pot and stares at you, likely waiting for food, but it feels more like judgment in his green eyes.

"Shut up," you whisper to him.

Dumpling meows, batting you with a paw.

You're sitting on the couch when there's an unexpected knock at your door. Logan is still gone, helping a friend and you're not expecting anyone, so you’re not sure who it could be. You check the peephole before opening the door and see the distorted image of a man in a red suit and mask supporting the weight of your roommate against his side.

"What the fuck?" you ask as you open the door in a panicked rush. The masked man waves his fingers at you.

"Hi there! I've got a very," -- he grunts, adjusting his grip on Logan -- "heavy delivery."

Logan's eyes are closed, head flopped back on the masked man's shoulder. Blood stains his t-shirt in spots that look suspiciously like knife wounds and you gasp.

"What happened to him?!" you shout. "Oh my god, he needs to go to the hospital--"

"He just needs a little power nap," the man says. "I'm Wade, by the way. You mind if I just--"

Wade drags Logan through the apartment, depositing him on your couch with a huff, wiping his hands together. He looks around and you're shocked when the eyes of the mask seem to move, as if mimicking his facial expressions.

"This is a nice place," he says. Dumpling meows and Wade gasps. "You have a cat?! I wish I could pet you, sweet kitty, but Dogpool would put me in the dog house. Ha! Get it?"

"I'm confused," you manage to say. "My roommate is bleeding out on my couch after being dropped off by some wanna-be Avenger--"

"Ouch!"

"And you're saying he doesn't need to go to the emergency room?"

"Nope." Wade lifts Logan's shirt. "See? Good as new."

Despite the blood and tears on his shirt, there's no wounds on Logan's body. He shifts, lifting an arm to smack Wade's hand away as he groans, eyes fluttering open. He glares at the man.

"Get out," he growls.

"Now, now, that's not being a very good host, Logi. What, were you raised by wolves?" Wade replies. Logan roars, a ferocious sound that's more animal than man. His hand curls into a fist and sharp metal blades extend from between his knuckles. "Okay, okay, I'm leaving, no need for the murder mittens." Wade looks at you. "You should come to Sunday dinner!"

"Wilson!" Logan shouts. Wade finally heeds the man's warnings, rushing for the door without another word, shutting it behind him. Logan sags against the couch, blades retracting into his hand. He tilts his head back, closing his eyes.

You stand there in shock, trying to make sense of everything you just witnessed. Logan should be halfway to dead by now, but he doesn't even have a scratch on him. He has claws. How does he have claws?

"Can hear you thinking," Logan says, eyes still shut. "Just say it."

"Say what?" you ask. He lifts his head.

"Tell me to get out, scream, whatever it is."

You sit down on the couch, facing him. "Why would I do that?"

"Because that's what you should be doing."

His hand rests on his thigh and you reach for it, lifting it to eye level for a closer look at his knuckles. You trace your thumb over the smooth skin, up over his strong forearm. He watches you, face almost pained.

"I'm not scared of you," you whisper. "You wouldn't hurt me."

"But I could," he bites back.

"You won't." You're certain of that. You set his hand back on his thigh and stand from the couch, intending to grab him a glass of water from the kitchen, but he stops you with a hand around your wrist. His grip is loose enough that you could break free, but you don't.

Logan looks up at you with an unreadable expression, something close to fear mixed with a conflicting emotion that you think -- or hope -- might be desire. He tugs your wrist, bringing you to stand between his legs.

"How can you be so sure?" he asks.

You place your hand on his cheek, the coarse hair of his beard scratching at your palm. His eyelids flutter and his lips part on a sharp inhale.

"You're a good man, Logan Howlett," you murmur. He closes his eyes tightly and takes a deep breath.

His next movements are quick -- a hand on the back of your thigh, dragging you onto his lap, the other wrapping around the back of your neck to pull you close, his lips capturing yours in a savage kiss. You melt into him, meeting his urgency with your own desperation, tongues tangling together and fighting for dominance.

You pull back to trail kisses across his jaw until you reach his neck, sinking your teeth into the tan skin, just over his hammering pulse. Logan groans, fingers digging into the flesh of your ass, pulling you tightly against him as his hips buck into yours.

"Fuck," Logan says, voice a deep rumble that you feel to your marrow. "Do that again."

"Do what?" you tease.

"Bite me," he demands. "Make it hurt."

You obey, biting down into his shoulder with greater effort, sinking your teeth in deep until he hisses from the pain of it and you let go, lifting your head to look at the mark you've left behind. It fades quickly, disappearing without a trace.

"Jesus," he says, pulling you in for another kiss, slow and deep, as his hands find the hem of your shirt. "Let me see you."

You allow him to lift your shirt up and over your head, exposing your breasts to his hungry gaze. His touch makes you shiver despite the heat of his hands as he traces the curve of your waist up to your chest, his thumbs finding your nipples and teasing them with slow circles. You drop your head back with a moan and he takes the opportunity to kiss your neck, your collarbone, moving down until his lips wrap around one taut bud.

"Logan," you whine, digging your fingers into his hair and holding tight. He hums, the sensation making your eyes roll.

"Thought about this," he murmurs, switching to your other breast. "Every time you'd wear those goddamn tight shirts of yours."

"Really?"

"Mhm."

"Wanna know what I thought about?" You tug his hair, pulling his head away from your chest. "Sucking your cock."

He raises his eyebrow at you and you take the opportunity to slide from his lap, settling on your knees between his spread thighs. You work his belt loose, followed by the fly of his jeans. He reaches past the waistband to free his cock and your mouth waters at the sight. You could tell he was big while you were on his lap, but he's even more glorious than you imagined. Thick, long, with prominent veins and a slight upward curve that you know will hit all the right places.

You take him in your hand, appreciating the weight of him in your palm as you hold him steady. With your eyes locked on his face, you open your mouth and stick out your tongue to lick from the top of your fingers to the flushed head. He groans, his hand curling into a fist that he presses to his forehead.

"Fuck," Logan hisses. You do it again, this time swirling your tongue around the tip before taking him into your mouth, moving down his length slowly. "God, look at you. Mouth stuffed so full you're drooling, huh?"

He's right. Spit gathers at the corners of your lips and runs down your chin as you use your mouth to pleasure him. The sounds he makes above you are downright filthy, deep moans and filthy praise that have you moving faster, taking him deeper, working to get as much of him in your mouth as you manage without gagging. He cups your cheek with one large palm, thumb tracing your stretched lips.

"Keep going, sweetheart. You can take a little more, can't you? That's it," he says. Tears burn your cheeks with the effort to obey, your throat tightening around the head of his cock. "Fuck, that's a good girl."

You breathe deeply through your nose, maintaining a steady pace and using your hand in tandem with your mouth for what you can't easily take. Logan's hips begin to flex beneath you, his words trailing off into guttural growls. His cock twitches in your grasp and he moans your name before his release floods your mouth and you swallow it down.

You pull off of him with a slick pop, gasping for breath. Before you can say anything, Logan is hauling you to your feet as he stands from the couch, lifting you up with one strong arm beneath your ass and urging your legs around his waist.

"What are you doing?" you ask.

"Just getting started."

Logan kicks the door open to your room, startling Dumpling from his perch. The cat races out the door, disappearing into the living area as the door clicks shut. He sets you down on your bed and quickly rids himself of his boots and rest of his clothing before returning his attention to you.

You're lying there in your little sleep shorts that drive him nuts. The fabric barely covers your ass and there's been more than one occasion where he's shuffled into the kitchen in the mornings to see you in them, all the blood in his body rushing south at the sight. He joins you on the bed, on his knees between your spread thighs, and extends a single claw. Your eyes widen, but you don't pull away. In fact, you start squirming, hips flexing minutely against the mattress.

"Scared yet?" he asks.

"I wouldn't say that.”

He carefully slips the blade beneath the hem of your shorts, inching it up until it peeks out above the elastic waistband before twisting his wrist and slicing through the fabric like it's nothing. Claw retracted, he removes your ruined shorts and takes a moment to appreciate the vision you make, legs spread wide and your dripping pussy on display.

"You're a mess," he says, smoothing his hands over the soft skin of your legs. He lifts one of your knees, pressing a kiss to the inside of it before resting it on his shoulder. "Gonna clean you up."

Logan dips his head to your center, dragging his tongue through your soaked sex, groaning when the taste of you blooms across his tongue. Your fingers curl against his scalp, a sharp point of pleasure-pain as he explores your body. He swirls his tongue over your clit, experimenting with broad circles and sharp flicks until you're writhing beneath him.

"Logan," you cry, hips bucking against his face. He dips his tongue into your cunt, nose brushing your clit as he does, and he hums in satisfaction as your thighs tense around his head.

He looks up at you and drinks in the picture you make, gorgeous skin glistening with sweat and your back arched from the bed, chest heaving with desperate breaths. He wants this exact moment burned into his memory, certain it could chase away the dark shadows that linger there.

Logan presses two fingers to your hole, sliding them in with little resistance. You're so warm and tight, squeezing his fingers beautifully, calling out his name as he curls them when he drags them from your body.

"I'm going to come," you gasp. "Oh, fuck, just like that!"

You pulse around his fingers and he slows his movements to work you through it until you collapse against the mattress with a deep sigh. He carefully removes his hand and sits up on his knees.

"Guess I made more of a mess," Logan says. Your eyes squeeze shut with a breathless giggle.

"I'll forgive you," you reply. You reach your arms up for him and he moves to hover over you to accept your embrace. "God, Logan," you murmur, tilting your chin up to kiss him.

In this position, he's able to drag his cock through the slick mess between your thighs and you shiver beneath him, gasping into his mouth. He does it again, more purposeful this time and it drags a moan from you both.

"Please," you murmur.

"Please what, sweetheart? Tell me what you want," he replies. "What you need."

"Need you to fuck me."

Logan reaches between your bodies and positions the thick head of his cock at your entrance, pushing forward. The stretch of him is unreal, almost too much even with how wet you are for him.

"Relax," he says, holding himself steady above you. "You can take it."

You nod and he pushes forward another inch, letting you adjust, and repeating the process until the coarse hair at the base of his cock tickles your sensitive skin. You've never been so full, no other experience compares to this. No other man compares to Logan, in any way.

He starts moving slowly, dragging his hips back until you're nearly empty before plunging back inside. Each thrust puts stars in your vision, makes the knot of want and need coil tighter in your lower belly, until you're moaning his name and begging him to move faster, harder, deeper.

Logan obeys, thrusting into you with enough force that your head board collides with the wall. He sits back on heels, dragging you up with him until you're sitting in his lap and he's able to thrust up into you.

"Feel so fucking good," he says, lips against your neck. "Need you to come for me, baby."

You nod, wrapping your arms around his shoulders and holding him close, meeting each of his thrusts with a rock of your hips that drags your clit against him, your nerves buzzing with the friction and fullness. While the orgasm he wrenched from you with his mouth felt like a wildfire, this one builds and builds, a wave cresting until it finally crashes and you cry out his name.

Logan leans forward to drop you back onto the bed, reaching a hand up to grip your headboard as he continues to roll his hips into yours, chasing his own release. His thrusts begin to grow more desperate until he presses in deep and you're flooded with warmth as he growls, long and low. The sound of splintering wood breaks through your post-orgasmic haze and you tilt your head back to find that his claws have extended through your headboard, splitting the wood and embedding into the drywall.

"I can fix that," Logan says breathlessly, tugging his hand free, claws retracting. You grin at him.

"Later," you reply, pulling him in for a kiss.

You've got better things to do right now.

Thank you so much for reading! For more of my writing, check out my masterlists!

[starcrossedmusings]

Pretty Hands

Pairing: best friend!Yunho x f!reader WC: 3.2k Warnings: eventual smut, reader has a thing for Yunho's hands (who doesn't??), swearing, fingering, choking, a little bit of degradation (he compares her to a whore literally once), PRAISE so much praise, Yunho talks reader through it (you're welcome), pov is kinda all over the place just let it be, Yunho is absolutely WHIPPED for reader teehee, probably some other things that I missed (let me know)

Summary: You and Yunho have been friends for years, and you tell each other everything. He suddenly takes a much more vested interest in your love life when you can't stop mentioning your newest interest.

A/N: This is entirely self indulgent and also I just wanted to get something full posted. The Phantom fic is turning out to be much longer than I originally anticipated (and so did this one once I started writing it). Let me know what you think♡

Stepping into Yunho's apartment had always felt like coming home, and today was no exception. You take your shoes off in the tiled entryway and pad your way through the main living area, calling out to him as you walk.

"Yun? I'm here!"

His muffled response flows down from the end of the hall, "Bedroom!"

You make your way through the back hallway and enter his room, finding him exactly where you thought he would be, focused in on his computer. There's a selection of empty drink cans and snack wrappers scattered around his desk, which tells you that whatever he's currently building on Minecraft has probably occupied the majority of his day so far. He pauses the game and turns his chair to face you.

"Whats up?"

"Got bored at home and my roommate isn't even trying to muffle her pornstar moans for her new boy toy."

Yunho barks out a laugh, "Does she seriously sound--"

"Just like it Yun I can't make this shit up. I'm starting to think maybe they're recording themselves in there."

Yunho wiggles his eyebrows as he stretches his arms up and over his head, leaning back in his chair. "Well, if I ever see your living room on Pornhub I'll be sure to let you know"

You crinkle your nose. "Ew. I do NOT need to know that."

"Whatever, don't act like you haven't been talking to me for weeks about how horny you are. If I have to hear about your vibrator dying one more time I'm gonna buy you a new one myself."

"You try getting unintentionally edged three nights in a row with a full charge, it's some bullshit Yun. Besides, I'm allowed to complain about my dry spell."

Yunho scoffs, tone playful and lighthearted. "Dry spell? It's been what? Two months?"

"It's been three thank you very much." You move to sit on his bed.

"Well some of us haven't had sex in much longer."

"Oh, please, that girl that San was messing around with was all over you at his birthday party last month, don't tell me you didn't take that opportunity."

Yunho raises his eyebrows in shock, leaning forward in his chair. "Wait, really?"

"Oh my GOD Yun you are so oblivious. Yes really. She was all giggly and twirling her hair and shit. That's like...girl flirting basics."

"I am not oblivious, I am actually quite observant. I could tell you things about yourself you don't even know. I just have my sights set on someone and that someone is not her."

You shoot him an incredulous look and snort out a laugh, leaning back to lay down completely on his bed, legs dangling off the edge. "Sure Yun, whatever makes you feel better."

You hear Yunho stand from his chair and feel his weight shift onto the mattress. He appears in your vision, a challenging playful sparkle in his eyes as he peers down at you. "Okay, fine. I can tell that you're trying out a new perfume, you just went shopping because your leggings are a different brand than you usually wear, and I know that you washed your hair last night because you're wearing it all the way down today."

You do your best to ignore the way your stomach summersaults at his attention to detail about you and your routines. You roll onto your side and prop your head up on your elbow, matching his challenging gaze. "Okay Sherlock Holmes. What kind of underwear am I wearing then?"

Yunho pauses to consider before responding "a thong, probably black." You grin triumphantly and lean in just a bit closer.

"Wrong. I'm not wearing any. You lose!" You stick your tongue out playfully at him and he swats your shoulder, falling back onto his mattress.

"You set me up!"

"Face it Yun, I'm just better than you."

"Yeah yeah, whatever" Yunho pouts, voice hightening slightly from surprise. He can feel a slight redness creeping up his ears and prays his hair has grown long enough to cover it. 'I'm not wearing any.' He clears his throat. "So why go commando? You finally planning to seduce your new conquest?"

"He is not a new conquest, he doesn't even know I like him."

"He will once he knows you aren't wearing any underwear for him" Yunho jokes, smiling cheekily. You smack at his chest.

"I didn't want to do laundry last night, asshole. Get your mind out of the gutter!"

"You're one to talk" he mutters under his breath.

You sit up fully and reach for one of the pillows at the top of his bed, slamming it down on his face. "Jeong Yunho I swear to god!" On your second swing, he manages to catch the pillow with one hand and pry it from your grasp, but not before giving you an entirely unhelpful image of his long fingers gripping the plush material.

"What?? All I ever hear you talk about lately is how tall and handsome this dude is and how much his hands make you drool."

"You sound jealous."

"I'm not jealous, I'm pissed that I have to hear all about him and don't even get to know what the dude's name is."

"I told you, I'm gatekeeping this time. You run your mouth too much."

"I do not!"

"Do too."

"Ugh FINE whatever," Yunho chucks the pillow back towards you and you dodge it, leaving both pillows on one side of the headboard, "You're so agitating."

"You know you love me Yun. But just for the attitude," You adjust both pillows and shuffle your way back until you're leaned against both of them, "no pillow for you for tonights doomscrolling session."

He huffs a laugh and scoots up to meet you, pulling out his phone and settling in against the headboard.

An hour later you get up to go to the bathroom, and when you get back Yunho has stolen both of his pillows. You frown and cross your arms. "Hey, asshole, those were mine!"

"Yeah?" He taunts playfully, "Well they were mine to begin with, and my back is killing me. So deal." You roll your eyes and cross back over to the bed, crawling over the side you've been sitting on and curling yourself into Yunho's side to rest your head against his chest. You feel him tense slightly underneath you before he moves one of his arms around your shoulders to let you lay more comfortably.

"There's no way in hell I'm sitting up against that cold ass metal frame you call a headboard." You mutter as you begin scrolling. Yunho's chuckle rumbles through his chest and tickles your cheek. You both sit in silence for a while, content to scroll on your phones. Eventually, you turn to look up at him from his chest.

"I meant to ask how your new project has been going. Whatever you were building when I came in looked pretty intense." You can see the faint tinge of red trail up his ears and neck--a telltale sign that whatever you caught him building makes him embarrassed. You sit up, propping your weight on your elbow and placing a hand on his chest to shove him slightly. "Ooooo now you have to tell me what it is!"

"It's embarrassing..."

"Tell me tell me tell me tell me--"

"Okay fine, fuck. I'll tell you if you promise not to laugh--"

"I won't I swear!"

"Pinky promise?" He holds his pinky out to you, and you raise a hand from his chest. Before you can lace your pinky in his, he pulls his hand up above his head. "I'm serious, Y/N, if you laugh I'll have no choice but to tickle you to death."

He's definitely not stalling because he has to come up with a reply, because he certainly hasn't been building a treehouse for you in what he hopes will one day be a shared server. Yunho thinks to himself that he would rather die than let you find out.

You scoff, "I won't laugh...and even if I did I'm not ticklish so your threat is a moot point."

Yunho drops his hand down onto the mattress. "Bullshit."

"It's not. I don't have a ticklish bone in my body."

"Liar."

You shake your head, and Yunho takes the opportunity to gently press the pads of his fingers into the sides of your ribs. The sensation hits you almost immediately, and you feel the tight feeling in your chest as he begins tickling you. You squeal and thrash around in his grasp, trying desperately to get away from his assault.

"Yun stop it--"

"Not until you admit you're a liar!" You begin to giggle and manage to roll away from him, but Yunho is quick to follow. He swings a long leg over your hips and pins you beneath him, a single large hand trapping both of your wrists above your head while the other dances across your ribs. "Admit it," He sings out.

"Okay! Okay fine I'm a liar!" You gasp out between laughter. Yunho beams down at you and immediately stops tickling your sides, leaving you panting underneath him--

Oh fuck...you're panting underneath him.

He can almost feel the shift in the air as he stares down at you. He knows he should move, just roll off of you and make up some bullshit lie about what he was building. You like someone else, and he clearly wasn't getting out of the friend zone any time soon. He's just making a fool of himself...and yet he just can't bring himself to stop memorizing the way you look splayed out beneath his hips. Eventually he forces himself to stop staring at the way your chest rises and falls or the sliver of your tummy that's poking out from underneath your shirt that's riding up. He locks eyes with you.

Your voice comes out softer than he's ever heard you speak before. "Hey Yun?"

"Yeah?"

"You know that mystery guy I've been telling you about? The one with the pretty hands?"

A twinge of annoyance flairs in his stomach and he can't help but grumble out his reply. "Yeah?"

"I'll give you a hint. He's got me pinned to the mattress right now."

Yunho feels his heart drop deep into the pit of his stomach.

"Like...like right now he does?"

You laugh lightly. "Yeah, right now, Yun."

Yunho swallows thickly as his head starts spinning. He leans down much slower than he would have liked to, giving you plenty of time to take it back--to laugh at him and tell him you got him good. He feels like his whole body lights ablaze when you close the final gap between your lips, and suddenly he is kissing you.

In almost any circumstance that you had seen Yunho kissing someone, he was always fast-paced--hot and heavy petting in the corner of a darkened bar, dares in drunken party circles--which is why you were floored at the reverence he was kissing you with now. His mouth was steady and intense against yours, his hands roaming slowly across the expanse of your torso like he was memorizing the feel of something priceless. You gently pull your hands from his grasp and tangle them in his hair, pulling him closer and matching his intensity with your fervor. You feel his hands make their way to the lower hem of your shirt, and your skin erupts in goosebumps as you feel his fingers ghost along the sliver of skin there. He breaks the kiss and you feel his breath fan across your face as he pants. His hands gently make their way to rest just under your shirt, not quite pushing the fabric up. He locks eyes with you.

"Is this okay?"

You chuckle gently. "Yes, Yun, you can touch me. I want you to touch me." You watch his eyes darken and his hands start running up your torso, pulling your shirt up with them.

"Where do you want me to touch you, baby?"

You exhale heavily and arch your back into his touch. "Anywhere...everywhere...I don't care."

Yunho smirks and feels his ego inflate. "You don't care? Hmm..." He starts planting kisses along your jaw and down the side of your neck. Slow. Teasing. "If I remember correctly, you seemed pretty keen about having my hands in some specific places baby. Can you refresh my memory?"

The low whine that escapes your throat nearly sends him spiraling. "You know where...don't make me say it."

He does know, but there's nothing he wants to hear more right now than to hear you say it. He brings one hand up to your chest, cupping one of your boobs and squeezing gently as he continues peppering your neck with kisses. "Was it here? Or..." His hand trails back down and grips your hip possessively, "Here, maybe?" He hears you huff and feels your hand wrap around his wrist. You try to tug it up, and he chuckles softly but allows you to move his hand. He nips your earlobe and asks lowly, "Where do you need my hands baby?" He feels his cock twitch in his sweats when you wrap his fingers around your throat, guiding him to squeeze the sides gently. Your hands run down his chest and drop to your sides as he squeezes a little harder. "Fuck, look at you. So pretty with my hand around your neck."

You whine and buck your hips up, desperately looking for friction. Yunho coos as he looks down at you, wanting to have the image burned into his memory. He adjusts his position so he's sat on one side of you and brings his free hand to your thighs, squeezing the flesh there and watching the way you spread your legs for him. "Pretty girl, I need you to use your words. Spreading your legs like a whore isn't gonna get you what you want." He revels in the way you throw your head back onto the mattress and close your eyes, frustration evident already on your face.

"Need your fingers, Yun. Please."

Holy shit, he could combust right then and there. He smiles and traces his hands along the inside of your clothed thighs. "Good girl. So polite for me." He hooks his fingers in the waistband of your leggings and pulls them down and off, leaving you bare from the waist down. "Sit up for me baby. I want you between my legs."

Yunho sits on the edge of the mattress and allows you time to sit up, moving to sit in between his thighs. He hooks your legs over his, leaving you spread and completely at his mercy. A shiver runs down your spine as the pads of his fingers run across your thighs and you gasp as they brush against your core. He presses kisses into your neck and chuckles, "You're already soaking wet, what's got you all bothered hmm? I've barely touched you..." Yunho hums and teases your entrance with this middle finger. He can feel you clenching. "Do you like my hands that much baby? All it takes is a little choking and you're putty for me." He pushes two fingers inside, pumping slowly and curling back to find your sweet spot. He feels pride flare through his chest at the noise you make, a mix between a whine and a moan that eggs him on.

Your toes curl as Yunho almost immediately finds your g-spot. The pace he sets is almost perfect, and when he begins rubbing tight circles on your clit your eyes roll back into your head. The pleasure is a building wave, and it's all you can do to keep yourself remotely still as he continues pumping his thick fingers in and out. "Oh my god, Yun, please don't stop!" You clench helplessly around his fingers and let your head roll back to rest on his shoulder.

"Awe baby I'm not gonna stop. Not until I see how pretty you look cumming all over me. Will you do that for me, sweetheart?" he coos, bringing his other hand back up to your throat and squeezing lightly. "Will you cum all over my fingers? I bet you want to right? Wanna come on my fingers while I squeeze this pretty neck of yours?"

You whine and preen at his words and arch your back. Your legs begin to shake as Yunho's circling on your clit quickens pace just slightly, the thrusts of his fingers audible from the squelching between your thighs. Your breath quickens.

"My pretty girl, you're such a mess for me, aren't you? Can you hear how wet you are? All soaked for me? I bet your hands don't feel as good as mine hmm?"

You shake your head no violently, whining as he continues to talk lowly into your ear. Your orgasm builds quickly, and at this point you have no faith in your ability to speak coherently.

"No, they don't do they? I want you to show me how good my hands feel baby. Let go for me, sweetheart."

Your breath catches in your throat as you tip over the edge, and the feeling of your release washes over you. Your whole body jolts in his grasp as he continues pumping his fingers. You feel him squeeze your throat gently, just enough pressure to remind you that he's got you.

"Atta girl, look at you! Doing so good for me." You whine and buck your hips, orgasm still riding through your body. Yunho nips at your neck lightly and slows his pumping to a stop as you continue to shake. "That's it baby, just grind on them for me." The final aftershock of your orgasm finishes, and you go limp in his arms, leaning all of your weight back into his chest and breathing heavily.

Yunho pulls his fingers out and admires the mess you made on them before popping them into his mouth. He's still rock hard, and the taste of you on his fingers makes him twitch again. He'll definitely need your help with that later. He uses the hand around your neck to brush a stray hair from out of your face. "How are you feeling?"

You huff out a breathless laugh and turn your face to nuzzle into his neck. "How do you think I feel? That was...wow."

He can't help the goofy smile that crosses his face. "Oh really? Tell me more, I'd like a full report." He jokes, pulling the two of you down to snuggle on his bed. He grabs a throw blanket from your side and pulls it over the two of you and nearly melts when you curl closer to him, burying your face into his chest.

"Give me a few minutes to recover and I'll show you exactly how I'm feeling right now." Yunho rubs a hand up and down your back.

"I look forward to that."

"And then afterwards you're going to show me what you've been building."

Yunho chuckles and kisses the top of your head. No way in hell.

[bratbarzal]

Let It Happen (LH43) 1/3

Pairing: Luke Hughes x Fem!Reader

WC: 17k

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

No school? Check.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

She deserves better. 

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

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

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

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

Luke Hughes loves summer.

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

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

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

He does love living with his brother.

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

And he really is grateful for that.

But, God, can he be annoying.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“It’s nothing.”

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

“Fine, it’s Ellie.”

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

“She’s refusing to hang out with me.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You know her?”

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

Not the truth, but not exactly a lie.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“No,”

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

“My name’s on the lease.”

“Maybe you could talk to her for me?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Since when do you work here?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Five minutes of your time?”

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

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

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

Who doesn’t love a shortcut?

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I know who you are.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What about ‘em?”

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

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

Us. Oh, he likes that.

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

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

“A nudge, then?”

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

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

“Are you here to eat or annoy me?”

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

“How profound.” 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

This is fun. 

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

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

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

“We could make a competition out of it.”

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

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

“Whoever actually gets them together, wins.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“I can’t see that happening.”

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

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

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

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

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

But God, you were pretty. 

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

“I’m Luke.”

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

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

“Depends who’s asking.”

“I’m Luke.”

“So you’ve said.”

“I know her.”

“Clearly.”

“This is her basket.”

“Does she need to sign for it?”

“No, I-,”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The bet.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

He has you figured out, by now. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Jack swats at his arm and rolls his eyes.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Cole Caufield being one of them. 

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Damn. You walked yourself right into that one. 

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

“You wish.”

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

“I think you’re an idiot.”

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

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

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

“Good for her.”

“Alone.”

“No shit.”

“To ask her out.”

“Whoop-de-doo.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How could you possibly know that?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

“How do you know?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Can you find out?”

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

“Does this mean we’re teammates?” 

“No. It absolutely does not.”

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

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

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

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

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

Much better.

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

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

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

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

So it has to be for him and Jessica.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Was I not supposed to?”

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

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

“Well done, you can read.”

“Why?”

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

“So?”

“He’s on a date.”

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

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

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

“To get his hair cut.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Thank you.”

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

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

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

“Any food?”

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

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

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

“Thanks, Cara, that’s everything.”

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

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

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

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

“Won’t he complain?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“In your dreams, Hughes.”

Luke sort of envies the charm you hold over people.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

That would usually drive him crazy.

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re really keeping score?”

“You’re not?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“She started it!”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

You can’t wait.

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

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

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

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

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

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

“Wasn’t feeling it.”

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

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

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

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

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

“How’d you get to that conclusion?”

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

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

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

“Like what?”

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

A death wish might actually be an understatement.

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

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

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

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

“What, that?”

“You’re so dead.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“What do you mean?”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

It’s not something you really love talking about. 

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

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

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

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

Interstellar. 

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

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

“Me too. I love space movies.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

“You’re gonna be so shocked.”

“Sports movies?”

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

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

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

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

“Only if I get to ask one back.”

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

>PART TWO<

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

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

[norrisprincess]

Not Another Fangirl

summary: After being a fan of the McLaren team, you got some tickets sponsored by McLaren and, to your not-so-great surprise, you met Lando Norris, and maybe you two will end up having more than a fan/racer relationship.

Lando Norris x Fan!Influencer!Reader

author note: I'm sorry for any spelling mistakes. English isn't my first language, and I used Google Translate for some things! If you find anything I need to improve, don't hesitate to let me know!

It was a hot day in the paddock, still, your steps were quick and excited since after making posts on instagram supporting the McLaren team for several months you finally had gotten a paddock club pass —sponsored by McLaren— for the F1 race.

After walking for several minutes, one of the McLaren team managers started giving you a short tour of the garage talking about how happy they were because of the wins they had this season ,and then, you saw him, Lando Norris, THE Lando Norris, you had to blink twice to make sure it wasn't some kind of dream but it was real, he was real. Your eyes looked at him but in that same instant The McLaren manager started to talk about the plans they had for this weekend race and you lost sight of him as quickly as you had seen him.

You sighed a little and the manager noticed because at that very moment she changed the subject.

“By the way, I've seen your posts on Instagram and I see that you're a big fan not only of the team but also of...someone...someone named Lando”

You blushed a little and started laughing nervously while shaking your hands a little.

“Don’t say that! Im just another fangirl!”

“Yeah, sure.” she said before letting out a giggle and leading you a little deeper into the garage.

“So it's okay if I introduce you in person to them right? Since you're just another fangirl.”

She said, and started dragging you until she reached a room where Oscar and Lando were sitting, chatting a little. They laid their eyes on you in the moment you entered the room.

“Hey Saski, who is she?”

Oscar said slowly His tone of voice was soft —still the confusion was noticeable in his voice. Then he started to look you and then to look Saskia.

“She's a fan who wanted to meet you guys! She got nervous as soon as I mentioned introducing you in person. She’s so cute, isn't she?”

Lando was the first to get up from his seat and take your hand to shake it a little making your face turn in a bright red making him smile a little before introducing himself.

“Well hello there, Im Lando, Lando Norris, but I guess that, if you are here it’s because you already know me and Oscar, don’t ya?”

He said in a tone that was somewhere between mocking, kind and maybe a little flirtatious, which made you smile inevitably.

“yes Im..Im a big fan of you guys.”

Saskia smiled a little before her phone rang and she picked it up to see who it was and immediately She looked at you three.

“Im sorry guys, I really need to take this call…but, I will let her at your care! I will be back soon, promisse!”

She said and left the room leaving you alone in that room with Oscar and Lando.

There was a brief silence before Oscar decided to open his mouth.

“so…what’s your name?”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by oscarpiastri, lando, and 772,809 others Y/NLaren ✓ Best.Day.Of.My.Life 🏎️🧡

comments 641,930

user1 OMG SHE DID IT! MY BABY MEET LANDO 💖💕

lando it was fun 😝 ♥︎ liked by the author

user2 So proud! 🎊

user3 omg you look so pretty!

user4 LET’S GOOOOO 🗣️🔥

oscarpiastri best day fr! ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ user5 OSCAR AND LANDO ARE HERE!

user6 They grow up so fast 🤧🥺

user7 GO GIRL!!!!!!

───────── 🧡 ─────────

It had been a week since you met Lando and Oscar. Today had been a very busy day, and you needed a break, so you layed down on your bed.

You placed your phone down and rested it on your chest with a small smile before a notification appeared on your home screen.

It was a message from an unknown number, but you decided to see who it was just in case it was a friend of yours from a new number.

You smiled before turning off your phone and leaving it on your nightstand, you covered yourself with your sheets and went to sleep immediately while you felt your heart almost jump out of your chest.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The next morning arrived, and you were awake even before the alarm clock, you were furtively looking in your closet for something to wear since a special day deserved a special outfit.

Your hands moved quickly through the clothes you had, you were looking for something that would make Lando have his jaw on the floor as soon as he saw you.

You sighed and were going to close the closet, but before that, a box in the deepest part of your closet caught your attention, making you open it again to take that box wrapped in pink paper, that paper soft to the touch and it seemed like that box had never been opened.

You opened the box only to find a dress that you had bought a few months ago but hadn't worn since you felt it wasn't what you were looking for at that specific moment, and here you were, thanking all the gods that you hadn't worn it since thanks to that the dress looked like new.

You placed the dress on the bed along with a small purse before skipping to the bathroom. Tonight would be perfect.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

“Hairstyle? Done..Makeup? Done..Are I missing something?..”

You were pacing around the room, putting the finishing touches on your look until you heard the doorbell ring and quickly moved towards the front door.

You opened the door only to find Lando holding a bouquet of flowers, a little blushing.

“hi lando!”

“Heyy y/n, are you—wow…you look..fantastic”

Lando said a little dumbfounded before shaking his head a little.

“these are for you”

He handed you the flowers, they were white tulips, they were beautiful, you took them in your hands before looking into his eyes with a slight blush that was hidden thanks to the blush you were wearing.

“Thank you Lando..They are really beautiful”

You said and entered your house to place the flowers in a vase with water.

“are you ready?”

Lando asked, watching you return to the front door with your handbag.

“For you? Always”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by lando, and 642,989 others

Y/NLaren ✓ Thanks for this day 💕 @ lando

comments 230,563

lando thank YOU for comming ❤️ ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ user8 OMGG

↳ user9 y/n is going to be the next f1 wag 🤭🫢

↳ user10 SO TRUE 🎉🔥

user11 YOU GUYS LOOK SO CUTE TOGETHER ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ lando ofc we look cute together 😉 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Y/NLaren 🥰

user12 LANDO AND Y/N 💍

user13 couple material 🙊

↳ user14 true

user15 I love your dress!! 👗 ♥︎ liked by the author

user16 pretty

user17 Im so happy for the both of you ❣️

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The sun came through the curtains of your dorm and rested on your face, it felt pretty warm in your skin.

The birds were singing and there was finally a moment of peace after a few stressful weeks.

You shifted a little in the bed only to feel large hands on your waist causing you to jump a little and sit quickly on the bed.

“What—Lando?!”

You leaned against the headboard watching Lando rub his eyes and yawn.

“good morning”

He said in his sleepy voice which made your heart beat a little faster and your cheeks to turn red before you shook your head a little and spoke again.

“no..this can’t be happening I-”

“hey..it’s ok”

Lando said as he got up a little and he sat next to you in the bed.

“Look, I know this can be really sudden for you and I know that we’ve know each other for just a few months, but please, I really want you to give me a chance. You've changed my life in ways no one else has in years in a short period of time. Please, I want you to give me a chance, I just need one chance to prove you I’m enough and to prove you how much you mean to me.”

You looked into Lando's eyes before sighing a little and looking away.

“Lando...I...I need time..this is sudden and beside I really like you I still need time to think about this…you didn’t make anything wrong to prove me you’re enough because I already know you are…I just need to think this a few more days ok?”

Lando looked at you and nodded, he took your hand and caressed it a little before getting out of bed and putting on his clothes and shoes.

He looked at you a last time before opening your dorm door and going out.

───────── 🧡 ─────────

The days passed and your ideas were still not clear, you had nothing sure, the only thing you could be sure of was that you liked Lando, but you knew you needed those days to think clearly, the simple fact that you liked him did not mean that you should accept him immediately without thinking about it first.

Your hands nervously played with the cover of your cell phone before, with trembling and slightly sweaty hands, you decided to enter Lando's chat after having hesitated for at least an hour or two.

You wrote and deleted the message over and over again, you didn't know what to say or how to start, you wanted to get straight to the point but you didn't feel that it was a topic that you two should talk about via chat or a call.

You took a deep breath and moved a few strands of hair behind your ear as you anxiously bit your lip.

Your gaze wandered for a moment to the flowers Lando had given you on your first date, some tulips were already wilted but still looked beautiful while the light of the setting sun softly illuminated them.

Your gaze returned to your phone. You had already made a decision and you had to stand firm. You knew that decision would have consequences, but what did it matter? Nothing mattered the instant your fingers touched the screen before you finally sent the message you had been tormenting yourself for all these days.

“Lando, we need to talk”

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Y/NLaren ✓

Liked by lando, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 899,790 others

Y/NLaren ✓ After a few weeks, conversations, and mutual understanding, we've begun a journey together. Something I never expected was to end with you. You gave me the best days of my life, and you promised to keep doing so. I also want to promise you something: my love and eternal loyalty. I love you forever. 💖 @ lando

comments 4

lando I love you too ❤️😻 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ Y/NLaren mwah 🫶🏼

oscarpiastri congrats 🥳 ♥︎ liked by the author

mclaren 🧡🖤 ♥︎ liked by the author

The author of this post has limited comments

───────── 🧡 ─────────

lando ✓

Liked by Y/NLaren, oscarpiastri, mclaren and 946,400 others

lando ✓ Thank you for giving me a chance. I promise to be here for you through the good times and the bad times too, no matter what. You're like the blue of my sky, and with you, I feel complete. I love you. I know We have a long road ahead of us of good things and bad things, but, together we can overcome it, because at the end of the day you are not another fangirl, your are my girl. 💐🧡 @ Y/NLaren

comments 3

Y/NLaren 💓 ♥︎ liked by the author

↳ lando I love you 😘

↳ Y/NLaren I love you too 🥰 ♥︎ liked by the author

The author of this post has limited comments

───────── 🧡 ─────────

Taglist!:

no one for the moment 👎🏼

[vettelsvee]

Hi love! For your tortured poets department, can I request endgame from the reputation album, lando being the driver please please 🙏

END GAME | Lando Norris

Lando Norris x Friend with benefits Piastri!Reader

SUMMARY: You were used to have random hookups just for fun, including with Lando Norris himself. It's not until he decides to lock both of you up on his driver room and talk about your weird relationship that you don't realize that, deep down, you're willing to settle down your mind and start a dating him ↳ REQUESTED: Yes! Thanks for requesting and hope you like it 💖 Part of REPUTATION in MY TORTURED DRIVERS DEPARTMENT

WORD COUNT: 2745

WARNINGS: Slightly +18 at the end (sorry for leaving it there ☺️), mentions of friends with benefits, spelling with multiple people, angst, curse words

VEE'S NOTES: Haven't written Lando in a very, very long time, so hope you like this one! University and my mental health are killing me but you know what? Writing is what keeps me going (and specially your comments have been a boost of serotonin for me lately). Also... the 2k special is already living rent free in my mind and I can't wait to achieve the goal to post it 😭 I wanna give spoilers now so... you know 🤓 ↳ TALK TO ME / REQUESTS! | FORMULA 1 MASTERLIST

© VETTELSVEE (2025). please, do not steal, copy or translate my works. thanks for reading!

"You finally decided to show up at a race. I was starting to think you only liked having me naked in your bed behind your brother’s back."

You smiled at the screen, playing with your fingers as you thought how could you answer Lando. Your relationship was based purely on sex, moreover sexting, with barely any real conversations whenever you met, moans and orgasms speaking for you both instead.

You had never felt the need to go beyond that, to involve feelings in your relationship, or at least that’s what you had made clear to Lando before sleeping with him the very first time. You also let him know that, besides him, there were other guys with whom you had no commitments whatsoever.

However, it was with Lando that you spent most of your time. The others were nothing more than a safe escape, an easy way out when the Brit wasn’t around.

"Be grateful that I even came," you finally replied. "And don’t flatter yourself. I came to see my brother, not to make you come before a race."

You hesitated, wondering if your reply was harsh enough to keep him from getting any ideas and, more importantly, to stop him from insisting on meeting up. You weren’t sure how, but you wanted to end that strange relationship before it spiraled out of control because, whether you wanted to admit it or not, you had started to feel something for him.

Yes, just a few weeks ago, you had one of your usual encounters with a friend of one of your best friends. But everything fell apart when, right before reaching your climax, you couldn’t help it: you moaned Lando’s name instead.

That was what made you question what exactly you felt for Norris and why the label of friends with benefits seemed to be fading away.

"Don’t play dumb, Piastri. See you at the motorhome. You know exactly where."

You huffed. Of course, you knew exactly where you’d be meeting. After all, ever since your brother became a Formula 1 driver, you had visited his teammate’s personal room more than Oscar’s.

With a sigh, making sure neither your mother nor your sisters were nearby, you got up, grabbed the plastic cup that still had a bit of coffee left, and walked with as much determination as you could muster toward McLaren’s motorhome, finishing your drink along the way.

As you walked, mentally preparing a script in case things got tense with Lando, you greeted the people you knew, or at least those who knew you as Y/N Piastri. Lewis was genuinely happy to see you and even stopped to chat, but you excused yourself, saying you had already made plans. Fernando gave you a knowing look, as if trying to figure out what exactly you were about to do with a certain driver.

Even your brother crossed paths with you at the entrance to McLaren’s motorhome. You managed to lie to him, partially, saying Lando had asked you to take a few pictures of him before the race.

Oscar gave you a strange look, then rolled his eyes, offered a small smile and told you to enjoy whatever it was you both were about to do.

You said nothing, but you knew your twin brother well enough to realize he already had a pretty good idea of what you were up to with Norris. Not that you tried too hard to hide it.

When you reached Lando’s room, you didn’t even have to knock. The door opened instantly, revealing a slightly tired-looking Lando with a cup in his hand. His race suit was already on but zipped only to his waist, leaving the top half hanging loose. His team cap was still on, though it didn’t last long since he took it off and tossed it aside within seconds.

He grinned from ear to ear, like he had been waiting for you with far too much anticipation.

"Come in. Make yourself at home," he said with that mischievous tone you were so used to hearing, though something about it felt slightly different this time.

You walked inside without hesitation, crossing your arms and ignoring him, except for the occasional sideways glance to see if he would do or say something before you did. Unfortunately, he didn’t.

"If you wanted a quick fuck before the race you could’ve just said so, you know?"

"I don’t think today’s the best day to fuck you and let everyone hear," he replied. "At least, not yet. Today, we’re going to talk."

"We don’t talk, Lando," you shot back, feeling an internal alarm go off. "And when we do, it’s just to ask about the safe word of the day, what we want to do to each other, and how close we are to coming."

"Well, maybe it’s time we started talking, don’t you think so?"

His answer took you completely by surprise. Your gazes remained locked on each other, and you felt the atmosphere grow tense.

For the first time in a long while, there was no excuse you could use to avoid that conversation with Lando. Maybe the fact that you had been ignoring him for the past few weeks was enough to make him realize that there was a chance—however small—that things had changed between you two.

You took a deep breath, trying to calm the growing sense of unease settling in your chest. Lando kept looking at you with that same intensity he always did, except this time… it was different. It wasn’t the first time you found yourselves in a situation like this, where there were a thousand unsaid things hanging between you, waiting to be voiced. But it was the first time, at least on your part, where feelings were involved beyond pure physical desire.

"I don’t think there’s anything to talk about," you said as nonchalantly as possible, but your tense posture betrayed you.

Lando set his cup down on the table beside him. Then, he sat on the edge, crossing his arms again, and reached for your hands only for you to pull away and take a step back.

"I think you know exactly what we need to talk about," he replied calmly. His voice was lower than usual, and you felt the heat grow between your legs. You shook your head, feeling guilty and doing your best to push away that sudden, but familiar, awakening in your body.

"You’ve been avoiding me, Y/N. And don’t tell me you haven’t, because you were in Monaco and never called me to meet up… to see each other," he added, his voice laced with something unreadable. "In fact, we usually sext almost every day, and you didn’t even bother to tell me what  new lingerie set you bought for when you came over."

"I didn’t tell you I was coming to Miami either."

Your reply, rather than making you sound indifferent, exposed you completely. Lando raised an eyebrow, as if he had caught you red-handed. That was when you realized you had seriously screwed up.

"I haven’t been avoiding you, Lando. I’ve just been busy," you insisted.

"Busy? You mean busy by ignoring me?" He scoffed, ironic. His expression turned much more serious now, and you started to worry about where this might lead. "Tell me the truth, Y/N. What’s going on? What’s happening with you?" he emphasized.

You averted your gaze, pretending to take interest in the room’s decoration, a room you already knew by heart. You knew you couldn’t keep dodging the topic, but you also had no idea how to confront it without changing everything you had so far. It was impossible to put into words what you felt for Lando, not when your relationship had always been purely physical. And especially not when there was a real chance you were just confused… and, well, you couldn’t forget the possibility that he might only see you as his hookup.

"Nothing’s wrong," you finally responded.

"I thought we were always honest with each other," Lando sighed, running a frustrated hand through his hair.

You felt your throat tighten. It was hard to breathe. You had been honest, at least when it came to the unrestricted desire between you, to touching each other without attachments, to seeking comfort in one another without questions that went beyond your wildest fantasies. You had avoided anything personal.

But now, you were slowly breaking the unspoken rules that had kept you in perfect balance until this moment.

"I’ve been busy, Lando, and the last thing I wanted was to deal with you, alright?" you insisted, trying to sound as convincing as possible. "Things should have stayed the way they were until, according to you, I started ignoring you."

"No, Y/N, things aren’t like that," the Brit denied, shaking his head. He stepped closer, cornering you against the wall. "If you don’t want to face something because you’re afraid of rejection, just tell me. But, for fuck’s sake, don’t act like I did something wrong, because you’re killing me."

"Lando…"

"Stop insisting that nothing is happening between us, when that’s exactly what makes me think the opposite."

His confession caught you completely off guard. His words—clear, direct, and without a hint of sarcasm, threw you off… especially because you knew he was right.

You felt the urge to run, to disappear, to pretend none of this had ever happened. Most of all, you wanted to deny yourself any romantic thought you had ever had about Oscar’s teammate.

When you lowered your gaze, Lando moved back slightly, giving you space and making sure he didn’t overwhelm you more than you already seemed to be. You sighed, trying to relax once again, but before you could say anything, he spoke first.

"Tell me nothing’s wrong between us, Y/N Piastri," he said softly. "If nothing has really changed, if everything is the same between us… dare to look at  me in the eyes and say it."

Your chest tightened. You couldn’t run away, not when Lando had you emotionally cornered, teetering on the edge of an explosion. Your breathing was unsteady, heavy. Your mind screamed at you to find an excuse, anything that would let you stay true to yourself regardless of what happened next.

Lando waited, unmoving, his blue eyes locked onto yours with an intensity that made you tremble for the first time in your life—without him even touching you. It was the first time he had shown himself to you like this: so vulnerable and yet so determined at the same time.

"Nothing is wrong between us, Lando Norris," you finally whispered, forcing the words out, ignoring both your heart and the boy standing in front of you.

"Say it again, but this time, look me in the eyes."

He didn’t move an inch. He knew you were lying; your posture gave you away—the way you avoided his gaze, the way your fingers toyed with the hem of your shirt and your accreditation pass…

You squeezed your eyes shut tightly. You had no choice… at least, not entirely.

Lifting your gaze, you met his blue eyes once again. Your lips parted slightly, ready to try and let out a lie convincing enough for both him and yourself.

But it was impossible. You couldn’t keep doing this, not when, deep down, and no matter how hard you tried to deny it, you felt something more than just pleasure for Lando Norris. The fear of rejection… it terrified you. The thought of him turning you away, of losing what you had with him, was unbearable.

"Lando…"

"You don’t have to say it if you’re not ready," he interrupted. "But please… stop pushing me away. Stop making this to us."

"It’s just…"

Nothing. No matter how much you tried to explain yourself, to find a logical enough reason for your sudden ghosting, you couldn’t.

"It’s just what, Y/N?" the Brit pressed. "Are you afraid to take a risk? To admit something because you’re scared of what might happen next? Because you don’t want to change the life you’ve had until now? Because you want to…?"

Lando forced himself to stop. He ran his hands through his hair, exasperated, turning his back to you. Guilt hit you immediately, your body trembling as the storm inside you began to break free. The driver rubbed his face, frustration radiating from him. This was exhausting him. You were exhausting him, to the point where he was starting to doubt his own feelings. Feelings that had started to grow the moment he realized it hurt when you ignored him, when you didn’t even send him a simple "Hey."

"I wish this were different, Y/N," he finally murmured, his voice thick with emotion as he turned to face you again. "I wish you didn’t make me feel like this. I wish I could just be content with what we had before and pretend none of this was happening…"

Your stomach twisted painfully. That was exactly what you had been thinking, the very reason you had pulled away from him and from whatever this was. You had ignored the fact that your feelings for Lando Norris had become something much stronger—maybe they had been there for far longer than you were willing to admit.

"Lando, listen" You tried to step closer, but he pulled away.

"No, Y/N, no," he said bitterly. "I tried convincing myself there was a reason you were ignoring me, acting like I was nothing to you, and then it hit me that I really want you as more than just someone to fuck."

"That…" you struggled to say, stepping toward him. This time, Lando didn’t stop you. The sincerity in your eyes, the way you looked both calm and nervous at the same time, made him realize he had to trust his instincts. And that was exactly what they were telling him.

"That’s what I wanted to tell you," you admitted, your voice barely above a whisper, but Lando still heard you. "That’s why I kept you on standby for two weeks… I knew this would change everything, that you’d react badly, that we’d end up fighting, and I… I didn’t know how to face the possibility of you rejecting… this."

Lando stared at you in surprise before a sad smile crept onto his lips.

"Y/N… I’ve always been good at reading signals, but this has been driving me fucking crazy."

"And you think it’s not been making me feel the same?" you shot back, feeling a weight lift off your shoulders.

Lando stepped closer, taking your hands in his. You didn’t resist, feeling how the both of you tensed at the contact. His lips inched toward yours, and when they finally met, the kiss was so fierce, so full of passion, that you ended up straddling him on the couch, moving against him, desperate to feel him. Even though you both knew there was still a race in two hours.

"I don’t want to touch you like this, Y/N," Norris whispered against your ear as you left small bites along his neck. "Y/N, stop it babe…"

"I don’t wanna be just another ex-love to you, Lando…" you murmured between kisses, still searching for friction between your bodies.

"And I don’t wanna miss you like your other lovers do, babe…"

This time, Lando gripped your waist firmly, flipping you onto the couch beneath him. His eyes never left yours as he carefully lifted your shirt and started massaging your breasts over your bra.

"I wanna be your end game, Y/N," Lando breathed, unable to tear his gaze away from you.

Your breath came out in shallow pants, and you felt like you were teetering on the edge. Your hands gripped the unfastened gear around his waist, tugging lightly to keep him close.

"Then prove it."

"I have a race in two hours, love…" he murmured, his voice rough as he pressed his forehead to yours, his arousal growing.

"Then you better be quick," you teased, running your hands over his abs beneath the fireproof. "Especially if you don’t want Osc to hear us…"

"You’re gonna be the death of me one day, Y/N Piastri," Lando groaned as he trailed his fingers up your thighs, lowering himself before you. "Now, open your legs for me... You deserve a punishment after being such a bad, bad girl these past few days…"

[hananan2]

Hi, are you writing NSFW? Well, my query isn't exactly NSFW, but the elements are present. I was thinking about a reader who is very sleepy (didn't get enough sleep because of exams or some other reason) and being a bit out of it starts telling different things about her love life with her boyfriend. And everyone around her blushes and just says, “Go to sleep please 🥹”. The guy's reaction depends on the character. I was thinking of Leona, Vil, Lilia, Jack, Sebek. I'd love it if you write about it, but if you don't like it, that's fine with me! Only in that case, please reply back that you don't want to write it so I know 😅.

don’t feel bad dw!! I didn’t post requesting rules (I did now!) when you asked so totally not your fault! While I don’t write NSFW, I write some suggestive stuff, which I think is what you’re asking for. I’m also going to take out Sebek and Jack if you don’t mind because not really comfortable with writing minor characters! I’ll do it!! So sorry if this is ooc☹️ I hope you enjoy!💕 (btw I’m gonna assume you wanted it as Fem!reader bc you were using her!)

—

To Tired to Think!

Summary: You could hardly get any sleep last night and your tired as hell throughout the whole day, while you’re near you boyfriend and other people, you accidentally slip up and say some things that should have been kept private… How does your boyfriend react?

Characters: Leona Kingscholar, Vil Schoenheit and Lilia Vanrouge!

info: Established relationship, romantic, Fem!reader, suggestive & fluff-ish!

Cw: none!

Leona Kingscholar

You were fighting a war to stay awake the whole day and you were shot 53 times. Thanks to your amazing boyfriend, you ended up taking a nap in the evening, which not only didn’t make you sleepy at night, but delayed all your school work and work in general, so had to get that done at night, which cause you to look like a wobbling, sleepy mess the next day.

but speaking of you Amazing boyfriend who you unfortunately love, here you were in his room, leaning on his chest as you both sat up, his arm was wrapped around with his hand patting your thigh, the room filled with chatter. Jack and Ruggie wanted to talk with Leona about new spell drive game, so they were in the room alongside you guys , and you honestly did NOT care, they were just like kids honestly, you just wanted sleep.

But suddenly a few slurred mutters could be heard from someone and it was NOT about spell drive. “Leona so gentle in bed…. Needs to be more rough….zzz..” all talking ceased.

Jack looked horrified, Ruggie was processing what he had heard, Leona looked stunned too, his hand stopped patting your thigh to listen.

“Lots of stamina though… makes satisfed… happy…” you slurred out, your hands playing with eachother.

“I-I’m so sorry, I’ll leave… get Y/N the rest she needs… she seems tired… I’ll see you later guys.” Jack walked out flustered, now he knew many things about his house warden he never wanted to know, trauma is very real.

While Jack left with the burden of information, Leona smirked and pay you thigh, his previous confusion wiped away with amusement, “oh? You’re honest, c’mon, I wanna hear what i’m good at doll.”

meanwhile all this happened, Ruggie was laughing his ASS off, he was quaking, Leona questioned how he didn’t wake you up.

“Pfft- oh I never knew you were so soft!” Ruggie cackled between breaths, Leona looked like he was gonna strangle him again, “Maybe I am, now scram or no lunch money.” Leona threatened, oh and that threat WORKED, Ruggie was gone.

Leona looks at you fondly and broke into laughter alone as well, he pay your thigh one last time and ruffled your hair while you absolutely slumped, you were so surprising, it scared him, but it was one of his favorite things about you, never made him bored.

“You have guts in your sleep huh? Telling all our business to kiddos? I’ll have to hear more.” He spoke gently to you with a cocky smirk, but he knew you were tired, and it was pretty much his fault, so he picked you up and placed you on his bed, laying next to you and watched the sun glow on your skin in affection.

Vil Schoenheit

Vil did not approve of you staying up so late! You stayed up late, literally just because you were watching a movie and woke up like a zombie the next day, forgetting you had a test. So that happened.

Seeing this, Vil was upset that his lovely girlfriend was not taking care of herself and went into an obnoxious, but loving and worried rant about how sleeping is vital. But in the end, Vil couldn’t be too mad seeing your small, sleepy eyes and decided that would do your skincare and make you feel fresh, today was condicently the day where Vil had promised the freshmen’s to show them the steps and vitals traits in skincare, he asked if you were comfortable for being the subject and you said you didn’t care so sure!

so here you are, almost falling asleep every few seconds in a soft chair while Vils gentle hands applied product to your face, the room was filled with admiring freshmen, eager to learn from their guru, well, all expect Epel, but hey at least you were here, Rook also came along because of course he did.

While Vil explained why toner was a must-have in your skincare routine, he was interrupted by a exasperated voice, “Your fingers are so nice… so good… everywhere… in bedroom a lot…” you mumbled to Vil like you had forgotten there was a whole audience in the room. Vil’s face turned white

The freshmen gasped, probably their first time they’d been exposed to stuff considering they were all so proper, flutters of “How scandalous!” And “Vil’a fingers…” filling the room. Again though, not Epel, his jaw DROPPED, his expression a mix of amusement and pure terror. Of course, Rook was chuckling, "Oh comme c'est intéressant…” he commentated with an evil grin.

Vil’s cheeks were tinted pink, not knowing what to say, wow you actually made him shit up, good job, Epel would say that. In true honestly, Vil was more worried about you, he didn’t want anyone to make assumptions of you or him for that matter, he knew how kids were, no matter how much he whipped them into shape, they’re still dumb teenage boys.

“Haha my love is so silly, she really appreciates my back massages is all, it’s a trait that all of you should have, it’s very helpful to relax your body before bed and all.” That sounded more freaky somehow kinda?? But it filled the masses of freshmen with “Ohhhhs” and understanding, they commented on about how you were a little tired poor thing and needed rest, so it worked! Of course he did, he’s Vil! “Now now, I expect that all of you have taken note and will use all the references I have taught you in your daily life, so put them to use now and get some sleep all of you.” Vil stated in a firm voice, the freshmen nodded their heads and left, Epel knew damn well that was about no massages, and he was going to interrogate and tease you about it so beware. (Don’t worry you’ll just tell on him.)

Rook left giggling finally and Vil carried you over to his room, laying you to rest, he knew it wasn’t really your fault, he shouldn’t have picked on you when you were so tried, in all honestly, he would have liked what you said if it was in private, but he would discuss that with you later, he slowly kissed your forehead, you were so silly, “Goodnight meine liebe.”

Lilia Vanrouge

Game night is really fun! Not when it’s on a Sunday night thought because Sunday is FAKE. You stayed up all night to game with Lilia and some guy named Gloomurai, leaving you with laughs and joy at 8pm, but leaving you exhausted by 8am. Though today, you were having dinner with Malleus, Silver, Sebek and your beloved for a little family night!

So while the others distracted Lilia as best as possible with wild conversation and Sebek literally cracking his skull open, you finished cooking so no one died, of course, the boys helped you out when they snuck away.

But you were SO exhausted, and eating, wake, filling food really just made you want to pass out more, all of you were sitting and dining at the table, Malleus talking about how he found a hidden gargoyale in one of the schools pillars with a childish joy in his eyes, Sebek congratulating his liege, you and Lilia supporting his hobbies and Silver taking in the moment while he also fought to not land face first into his food like you.

You were muttering praises to Malleus while your fork slightly moved a little, your shoulder leaning on Lilia’s, but soon your mumbling took a turn.

“Lilia knows a lot too… so much… he knows how to work his tongue, fingers, di…” you thankfully drifted off.

Lilia was taken off guard, but soon his expression soon turned into loud laughter, he was slapping his knees, never in his 700 years of life! “Haha—! Infront of the kids wow!”

Malleus looked confused, he is surprisingly,but also unsurprisingly innocent. “Well yes, he has detected poisonous roots in dishes and has bore swords in many altercations with quite skillful precision, I agree with your statement, although, I am not aware of what this Di is.” Malleus commented with his hand on his chin.

more laughter erupted, oh my god this was bad but also not the worst thing ever?

“I ALSO WHOLEHEARTEDLY AGREE WITH YOU MY LIEGE ON THE HUMAN’S STATEMENT” Sebek declared proudly, crossing his arm over his heart

Silver was awoken with all the cacophony of laughter and Sebek. “Shush.” He gave Sebek a glare, which made him shut up.

“She’s sleeping, father please calm down as well, she needs rest.” Silver spoke calmly, finishing eating. In all honesty, Silver wasn’t asleep in that moment, your words woke him up, and unfortunately for him, he knew what you mean by your statement of muttered words. You hear a lot when people think you’re asleep and a quiet kid. But he chooses to act as if he didn’t hear it, thought there’s an audible twinge of embarrassment in his voice.

“Haha your right son. Alright you lot all best head to bed, you hear me? I’ll take care of the dishes and take Y/N to bed, clean the table.” Lilia said in a more mature voice, though he still had a sly grin on his face, everyone agreed and Lilia flew to his room with you in his arms, setting you on the bed. He looked down at you and pinched your cheek gently. “Cheeky.”

he smiled while covering you in a blanket, kissing the top of your head, you deserves that much. He’ll make sure to treat you to a hearty meal tommorow!

[felassan]

EuroGamer: 'BioWare knew the deepest secrets of Dragon Age lore 20 years ago, and locked it away in an uber-plot doc'

Original creator David Gaider on how "some of the big mysteries are being solved".

Rest of post under a cut due to length and possible spoilers.

"As I write about the secrets hidden in Dragon Age's mysterious Fade, and as I uncover some of them playing Dragon Age: The Veilguard, one question keeps rising up in my mind. How much did BioWare know about future events when first developing the series more than 20 years ago? That's a long time, and back then BioWare didn't know there would be a second game, which is why Dragon Age: Origins has an elaborate and far-reaching epilogue. Why lay so much lore-track ahead of yourself if you don't think you'll ever get there? But look more closely at Origins and there are big clues suggesting BioWare did know about future Dragon Age events. There are obvious signs in the original game, such as establishing recurring themes like Old Gods and the Blight and Archdemons. But there's also Flemeth, Morrigan's witchy mother, who's intimately linked to events in the series now - more specifically: intimately linked to Solas. Does her existence mean Solas was known about back then too? There's only one person I can think of to answer this and it's David Gaider, the original creator of Dragon Age's world and lore. We've talked before, once in a podcast and once for a piece on the magic of fantasy maps, where we discussed the creation of Dragon Age's world. And much to my surprise, when I ask him what he and the BioWare team knew back then, he says they knew it all. "By the time we released Dragon Age: Origins, we were basically sure that it was one and done, but there was, back when we made the world, an overarching plan," he says. "The way I created the world was to seed plots in various parts of the world that could be part of a game, a single game, and then there was the overall uber-plot, which I didn't know for certain that we would ever get to but I had an understanding of how it all worked together. "A lot of that was in my head until we were starting Inquisition and the writers got a little bit impatient with my memory or lack thereof, so they pinned me down and dragged the uber-plot out of me. I'd talked about it, I'd hinted at it, but never really spelled out how it all connected, so they dragged it out of me, we put it into a master lore doc, the secret lore, which we had to hide from most of the team.""

"This uber-plot document was only viewable on a need-to-know basis, he says, and only around 20 people on the team had access to it - other senior writers mostly. And even though Gaider left the Dragon Age team after Inquisition, and then eight years ago BioWare altogether, meaning he didn't work on The Veilguard at all, he believes - by looking at the events in the new game - his uber-plot lore "has more or less held up". That's impressive. What's even more impressive, or exciting, is that back then he also envisaged a potential end state for the entire Dragon Age series - a point at which it would make no sense for the series to carry on. "I always had this dream of where it would all end, the very last plot," he says, "which I won't say because who knows, we could still end up there. But the idea that this uber-plot was this sort of biggest, finite... That the final thing you could do in this world that would break it was there as a 'maybe we would get to do that one day'... There was just the idea of certain big, world-shaking things that were seeded in that arc, some of which have already come to pass, like the return of Fen'Harel." You've read that correctly: the idea to have Fen'Harel, also known as the Dread Wolf, reappear, was seeded all the way back then, way before Inquisition - the game in which he does actually reappear. But the concept for Solas, as a character who was Fen'Harel in disguise, was a newer idea. "That spawned from a conversation I had with Patrick [Weekes] and a number of other writers," Gaider says, "as an idea of 'what if you had a villain that spent an entire game where he's actually in the party and you get to know him?' Now, the god version and his larger role in the plot, yes that was known, but not that he would be presented as a character named Solas." Fen'Harel being known about means the other elven gods were known about, which means all of that stuff Solas reveals about his godly siblings - that they're not gods at all but evil elven mages he locked away behind the Veil - was known about back then too. "Oh yeah," Gaider says. "Everything that Solas tells you [at the end of Inquisition DLC, Trespasser]: it's all part of that original uber-lore - that was all in our mind." But why have so much lore if you're not certain you'll get to ever realise it? Well, to create a believable illusion. By creating an "excess" of lore, as Gaider describes it, Origins made Thedas feel like an old and believable place. A place with history, rather than a Western set that was all facade and no substance."

"BioWare also did something canny with the lore it did relay then, too: it shared it through the voices of characters living in the world, making it inherently fallible. In doing this, Dragon Age veiled its truths behind biases. The church-like organisation of the Chantry proclaims one truth, while the elves and dwarves proclaim another. Sidenote: you can experience this yourself through different racial origin stories in Dragon Age: Origins. This way, there's no one, objective, irrefutable, truth. "To get the truth, you kind of have to pick between the lines," Gaider says. So even though elven legends are coming true through the existence of Solas and The Veilguard's antagonist gods, it doesn't mean that's the one and only truth. There's truth in what the Chantry teaches and what the dwarves say, he tells me, which ignites my curiosity intensely. BioWare has also been tricksy in how it's rubbed out the lore the further back in time you go. "In general, the further the history goes back, we always would purposefully obfuscate it more and more," Gaider says - "make it more biased and more untrue no matter who was talking, just so that the absolute truth was rarely knowable. I like that idea from a world standpoint, that the player always has to wonder and bring their own beliefs to it." It leads into a founding principle of Dragon Age, which is doubt - because without it, you can't have faith, a particularly important concept in the series. It's where the whole idea of the Chantry's Maker comes from and with it, the legend about the fabled Golden City - now the Black City - at the heart of the Fade. This is the very centre of the lore web, and, I imagine, it's close to the series endpoint Gaider imagined long ago. All secrets end there. Did Gaider know what was in the Black City when he laid down Origins' lore? That's the question - and it startles me how casually he answers this. "Oh, yeah," he says. "What was in the Black City: that's the uber-plot. I knew exactly. "Was it as detailed in the first draft of the world?" he goes on. "No. I had an idea of the early history because that's where I started making the world. So the things that were true early-early: I knew exactly what the Black City was and the idea of what the elves believed, and what humans believed vis-a-vis the Chantry - that was all settled on really early. Then I expanded the world and the uber-plot bubbled out of that.""

"Gaider shows me the original cosmology design document for Dragon Age: Origins as if to prove this - or rather for the game that would become DAO. The world was known as Peldea back then. I can't share this with you because I see it via a shared screen on a video call, and because Gaider doesn't want me to, mostly because the ideas are so old they're almost unrecognisable from what's in the series now. But I can tell you it's a document that's just over a page in length, and that there's a circular diagram at the top showing the world in the middle and the spirit realm ringed around it. And on that document is reference to the Chantry's beliefs about a God located in a citadel that can be found there. Gaider says BioWare knew about Fen'Harel (the Dread Wolf) 20 years ago when it was developing Dragon Age: Origins, and that he'd one day reappear. The Fade wasn't known as the Fade back then, either, but as the Dreaming, because it's the place people go when they dream - an idea that lives on still. And if that sounds familiar to any fans of The Sandman among you, it should. "I'd say The Sandman series was probably fairly prominently in my head," says Gaider. "I liked that amorphous geography that was born from the psyche of collective humanity. I'd say yes, if I was to point at something specifically, that's probably where the very first inspiration of it took root." It's a lot to take in, but it reinforces the admiration I have for Dragon Age. Just as I have when hearing about the creation of my other favourite fantasy worlds, such as A Song of Ice and Fire, I begin to understand the magnitude - and the deliberateness - of the plotting that went on. I wonder if one day the Dragon Age series will end in the way Gaider first imagined, albeit slightly altered by the many other pairs of hands shepherding it along now. What a curious feeling it must be to know, so many years in advance, where things might go. Where that end is, I don't know, but I do know we'll take a significant step towards it in The Veilguard. After all, we're coming into contact with gods who were there at the recorded beginning of it all. "Yeah - we have access to people who can tell us the truth from first-hand experience," Gaider says, "although again, it depends on what the writers did with it. But if they continued the tradition of Dragon Age, you never know for sure if Solas is telling you everything, or what you're learning is the entire truth. "But yes, some of the big mysteries are being solved. I mean, will they one day definitively tell you about the Maker? Will we crack the big mysteries of the world and just make them answered finally? And does that ruin one of the central precepts that Dragon Age is founded upon? Maybe," he says. "Ultimately, that lore, when you make it big and you hint at it and hint at it and hint at it, it becomes a Chekhov's Gun of sorts. Eventually you got to pony up.""

[source]

[dragonzfanfics11]

«★Another nightfury?★»

~Hiccup x reader (w a nightfury!)~

Summery - hiccup is exploring a new island when he finds you, and much to his and toothless's surprise they find another nightfury, aka your dragon~ hiccup is excited to get to know this mysterious dragon rider and their dragon

Warnings - nothing serious besides possible spelling errors, your dragon is a female nightfury (no specific name tho!) your unfamiliar with normal things like toothless's saddle, I think I kept it gn but if I accidentally added fem pronouns plz let me know so I can fix it! Also sorta short?

If this ends up being confusing for some of y'all here's a link to a post I made that kinda sums up what this short series is gonna be about :]

★click here★

→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→

Hiccup and toothless have been flying for hours now in search for new islands to explore or new dragon species to try and study from a distance.

"there's gotta be something out here bud.."

Hiccup mutters as he looks around the expanse of sea they have been flying over for about an hour now, earning a small grunt from toothless

"what do you think we'll find out here? Some new kind of dragon or maybe even another nightfury? Wouldn't that be something huh bud?"

Toothless's ear flaps suddenly perk up but not to hiccups words as he suddenly dives down closer to the water, picking up speed

"WHOA! What are you doing??"

Toothless pays no mind to hiccup as he stays focused on whatever scent he picked up in the air, keeping a high speed

Eventually a small island came into view and toothless lands into the nearest clearing, sniffing at the ground as hiccup gets off of toothless's back to look around the new area

"wow...this plays looks untouched by well... Anything.."

The plants were growing high and thick, not a single dragon in sight so far besides toothless who as still following a scent purposely

Hiccup follows toothless deeper into the island since he can't seem to talk toothless out of it, to focused on finding whatever he's looking for which leads him to another clearing seemingly in the middle of the island

Then he sees you

"whoa- what's a person doing all the way out here? There hasn't been a village for miles.."

Hiccup mutters to himself mostly as he comes to a stop, toothless stoping a few feet ahead of him

Thankfully the brush is thick enough to hide him and his dragon from view

You were just collecting berries and fruits peacefully and putting them into fabric pouch that was old and worn

"maybe we should go say hi"

Hiccup says as I starts to walk forward and introduce himself to you before something moves in the brush in front of you, something unmistakably dragon

"what do you think d/n (dragon name) think we've got enough fruits to last a few days?"

Your dragon lets out a small noise in response as she steps out into the clearing, stretching like she just woke up from a nap

Hiccup was frozen as soon as he seen the dragon, the nightfury, and before he could even think of doing anything toothless was already striding forward with an excited and curious roar

The sudden noise makes you and your dragon turn to toothless's direction, your dragon gets slightly defensive but curious as she stays close to you

You slowly approach toothless with a confused look

"hello there.. how'd you get all the way out here? Aren't you supposed to be-"

Your cut off mid sentence as you lock eyes with hiccup who still stood stunned

You tensed up on instinct and instantly went to stand between the the two nightfurys and hiccup, holding up a old looking dagger in defence

"stay back!"

"Whoa- whoa-! I'm not here to hurt you! Or your dragon!"

I look at him confused before toothless makes a small grunt noise twords hiccup, looking between him and your dragon with a look that says 'look another nightfury!' practically bouncing with excitement

On the other hand your dragon locks her focus on hiccup with a defensive and wild look, standing close to you with a small growl

When you don't say anything hiccup speaks up again in awe and nerves ness

"uh- I'm hiccup....and that's my dragon toothless.."

"your dragon?"

You look back at toothless and just then notice the saddle that was on his back, and the odd thing on his tail that you've never seen before

"your dragon is beautiful by the way.."

Hiccup says, snapping you out of your thoughts, he steps forward slightly with his hand carefully extend out twords your dragon resulting her to growl and spread her wings in a threatening manner

"whoa! D/n!"

You quickly put your hand against her about to stop her before she could try to attack hiccup, who quickly backed away

"sorry..she doesn't exactly like people.."

"don't worry I get it"

He says with an embarrassed chuckle, toothless on the other hand walked back over to him with his excited smile

"It's amazing to see another dragon rider all the way out here, especially one who rides a nightfury"

Hiccup says to change the subject, still looking at you and your dragon in amazement

"here we thought toothless was the last of his kind, ain't that right bud?"

He says as he scratches toothless's head, receiving a grunt like noise in response from the dragon

You stay quiet for a few moments, unsure about how to continue talking with hiccup, or even hold a normal conversation

"uh....what's that on your dragons back?"

You mutter as you examine toothless's saddle, toothless lifts his head and sniffs at you, demanding some attention that he was quick to receive from you

"his saddle?"

He says in a confused voice, as you curiously look at the saddle, and he carefully walks over to the other side of toothless, gently dragging his hand up his back and wing

"have you never seen one before?"

You shake your head, glancing up at hiccup, your dragon huffed next to you and glares daggers in hiccups direction who trys his best to ignore it

"no, what's it for? Seems useless to me"

"it makes it a lot either to stay on a dragons back while flying, this one also helps toothless fly actually"

"he needs help flying?"

Hiccup nods awkwardly and leads you down to the dragons tail, gently lifting he fake tail fin that was painted a bright red and a white marking you've never seen before

"how'd this happen to him?"

"it's uh....long Story.."

He laughs nervously again and glances over at your dragon who tried over to your side, still glaring heavily at hiccup

"....did you make this?"

You run your hand over the fake fin before glancing up at him, the question catching him slightly off guard before a proud grin appeared on his face

"yep! All by myself actually, we fly everywhere together around berk and just about anywhere else"

"Berk?"

"yea, that's my village, were vikings and dragons live together in peace"

"there's a whole village with Vikings and dragons together?"

→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→♪→

I'm not sure how much I like the start of this but oh well, let me know if yall want a part two! I'll try to add more romance and stuff later on, it's my first time with making a slow burn thing

I'd also appreciate tips and or suggestions for the story, if you wanna see something in here js let me know and I'll try to tie it in at some point of the Story! :]

One more thing, should I add a antagonist to the Story? Maybe the villain from the last movie or maybe just make up a villain? Or just no villain at all Id love some feedback

Taglist

@fries11

It's my first time doing a tag list so if I did something wrong I'm sorry and plz let me know :]

[nor-4]

The "B" word trend - Formula one and Reader

A/N: @23victoria when i saw her posts i immediately think of this one so thanks to her! Love her works sm

⋆.˚ Max Verstappen

"Hey everyone, love say hi to the camera." You informed max as you touched his legs to catch his attention, "Hi guys" He waved into the camera throwing out a smile.

"So i saw this trend on tiktok.." You started talking while arranging your bag that is on your lap trying to distract you from nervousness, "Yes.." Max nodded as he turns to look at you.

"If i gave you the permission to say the B word, how would you call me?" You stated as you were looking out the window and back to him.

"What i always call you beautiful, what do you mean permission?" Max looked at you with his typical confused look, "No babe what. I meant by you know the curse word." You giggled as you lightly pushed his face away who was about an inch away from you.

"Oh that, i would never say that to you even you say that to me." He shrugged laughing too, "Called me once a bitchy whore for wearing my suit and an attitude." he faced the camera as if he is complaining to the viewers before ending the video.

⋆.˚ Logan Sargeant

"If i let you say the B word, how would you say it?" You asked him on ig live while eating beside him, "B word? Bookie? Bookie you look good and shit." Logan continued as he is looking for an answer on your reaction. He isn't fond to these kind of trends but he knows damn well what pookie and bookie is.

"You know bookie but you don't know the b word." You questioned him.

username11: Bye i didn't know this is how the trend is supposed to go

loganlover34: Logan chronically online confirmed?

⋆.˚ George Russell

"So if i let you say the B word, how would you say it?" You asked george and oh boy he is ready as he already seen that trend earlier this morning.

"Okay it's something like this. Biiitch you look so fucking gorgeous or Bitch! You look so fucking gorgeous girl." George sassed waving out his fingers infront of you, "Aw you look like a little twink georgeyy." You stated pressing the e on the nickname as you know how much it cringe him off.

"Eugh, you are taking a piss." George pointed out at you with a disgust changing out his mood, til this day it still makes you laugh on how he acts like the videos of Paul and Morgan on tiktok.

⋆.˚ Lando Norris

: Babe, random thought. If i let you say the B word to me, how would you say it?

Lando reading the text out loud for the stream cause he couldn't show to everyone what contains you conversation. "Oh i think i know this one, It would be like. I love you bitch, ain't never gonna stop loving you bitch." He is saying what he is typing as his friends talk to the background.

Lando: It would be liek. I love you bich, ain't never gona stop loving you bicht.

: You are typing bich baby, that doesn't count.😭😭😭

"You are typing bich. Like bich, what the hell is that spelling right there. That's so british." He yelled at the mic reading out that one typo and ignoring the other.

⋆.˚ Carlos Sainz

"So would you call me the B word if i let you?" You asked facing the phone at him, he is very familiar of this kind of trend as the ferrari hospitality is flooding him with trends especially the "Watch carlos for a second" video.

"Bello. That's the b word i will call you." He smiled very proud of his answer, "Noo you know what b word I'm talking about carlos."

"Bebita, you know papa will kill me if he ever found out I'll call you something like that." It's true though Carlos senior already threatened him about saying things like that around you and to you. "But you know-"

"No. Bello that's the word." he cut you off.

⋆.˚ Daniel Ricciardo

"I already told you danny i wouldn't do anything if you say it." You have been laughing for solid straight 10 minutes now ever since you asked that question, "Bii... Honey i really can't say it." Daniel is like that one Noah and Lori video and that's why you are laughing because of the resemblance.

"Come on, do you want me to cheer for you?" You teased him as he has been jumping, walking, running or just doing anything other than saying the B word.

"Sorry i just couldn't bring myself to say it, okay i lost." He shrugged defeated before slumping down to your feet resting his head on your lap hugging your legs as if his life depends on it.

⋆.˚ Lewis Hamilton

"So how would you say the B word to me?" You have been asking the same question for fifteen times now as he is trying to avoid that question by changing the subject or asking something back at you.

"No i wouldn't say it it's either you will cry or you will be aroused." Lewis said before slumping down the sofa beside you and roscoe beside you.

"Lewis, what?"

"What, who said that?" him acting cool as he wrap his arm around you waist eventually reaching up to roscoe cuddling up the both of you as if you guys are the most fragile and comfortable thing ever in the world.

⋆.˚ Charles Leclerc

"If i gave you permission to say the B word, how would you say it?" You asked charles and yes it is a very easy question for him as cursingg at your significant others isn't a thing for him it will never be and he thinks that everyone thinks like that too.

"Hello beautiful." He answered before biting into his food, "That's sweet, but not that b word. The other one you know" You corrected him leaving out your food for a second for his reaction.

"Oh i didn't know you are into degrading when it comes to intimate stuff." Charles said before giggling like a teenager, "Cha you know that's not what i meant."

"Yeah but you are into it though"

⋆.˚ Fernando Alonso

Oh girl we didn't see that asking this on live is very bad idea. "If i gave you permission to say the B word, how would you say it?" You asked him placing the phone infront of both of you.

"My belleza? It's the best b word, it fits you." Nando confidently said placing a hand on your back rubbing it, "No i mean by the bad b word." You cleared him.

"My bitch, doesn't sound good. I prefer my belleza more, it fits you well especially when you look under-" You slap Fernando's mouth before everything went down for you as how it is already, "We are on live you oldie." you joked before jokingly throwing his head away.

username3: Got that on screen record lmao

username4: Fernando you nasty girl😝

⋆.˚ Oscar Piastri

"Oscah if i gave you permission to say the B word to me, how much say it?" You asked out of nowhere which made him give you a stank eye once again, "You know you are the B word but i will never say it to you." He rolled his eyes before continuing to type on his phone for his twitter post.

"So if i am there's still a possibility you will say it?" You asked once again pretty same question cause we know you are not gonna let it go, "No, leave it now miss girl before i make you." you know what he means by that and because of that you wouldn't leave him alone.

⋆.˚ Zhou Guanyu

"babe if i gave you permission to say the B word, how would you say it?" The first thing you asked in the early morning after a tiring night, "Woman i know this is a trap stop it right now." Zhou finally learned with all these stupid question you asked after failing many times and completely losing his mind.

"I'm just a woman to you know?" You pouted before turning your back at him deciding to cuddle sweetcorn who is sleeping beside you, "Of course not love, you're my woman." he stated before sneaking his arms around your waist and petting sweetcorn.

⋆.˚ Pierre Gasly

"If i gave you permission to say the B word-" yeah he knows it another chronically online men.

"No baby." Pierre said shaking his head from side to side, "I didn't even finished." You raised your eyebrows looking at him as if you suspicion him of something.

"Did your other bitch ask you this question? Why do you know this trend?" You asked pierre as he turned his head at you as if you are going crazy or something, "Are you okay? Literally every post i upload on Instagram your face is there." he tried defending moving his arms in the air while talking.

"So you are getting tired of it?" You asked again feeding his frustration as he just look at you with mouth agape.

[just-some-random-blogger]

Double Dutch

The twins walk in on you as you talk about your stupid, fit neighbor. Wonder who that is.

George Weasley x Reader (x Fred Weasley) | 1k+ | cw: fem!reader, fred lives stfu, harry potter lore noob, fluff, rizzler!Georgie, typos, etc.

A/N: this is a continuation to Sweets & Sweeties but both can be read individually for the most part. GUYS IDK MUCH ABOUT HARRY POTTER LORE SO PLEASE KEEP CALLING ME OUT IF YOU NEED TO COS WHAT DO YOU MEAN THERES AN UNLOCKING SPELL HAHAHAHAHAH | cross posted on ao3

"And they didn't just use Alohomora?"

You giggle as you momentarily lean on your mop to turn to your phone, "that's what I'm saying!"

Your friend snorts from the other side of the line.

"But," you continue mopping, "to be fair, even I didn't think of it in the moment. I was just glad they helped me get back in my shop when it felt like I'd be locked in forever."

Your friend groans, "you can be so dramatic. Why would you be locked forever from your shop?"

"Stop it. I was seriously debating throwing rocks at my window to get in."

"Wow," your friend laughs, just as the bell on your front door rings, "you're just as stupid as your neighbor."

You look over your shoulder mid-mopping, "sorry, shop's not..."

You grip your mop tightly as the tall man raises a hand, "mornin'."

"... open yet."

His smirk is lopsided as he raises a brow, "not even for your stupid neighbor?"

Your stomach drops and blood rushes up your neck.

"Bloody hell," your friend's voice on loud speaker reverberates in your empty bake shop, "did your fit neighbor walk in?"

The said man chuckles and you nearly whack your phone with your mop. You quickly end the call and grit your teeth in embarrassment, unable to turn back to the red haired man that was laughing yet again.

"Fit neighbor, huh?"

You clear your throat as you decide to put a brave face on and feign ignorance. You turn to him with a dramatic hair flip and shrug.

Fred or George Weasely smiles then hums, crossing his arms. Which one he was, you couldn't tell. "Glad to know you find me fit, love."

"I-" you clear your throat, "that wasn't about you."

His brows quirk and his lips part. He scoffs in offence but his smile is still visible, "don't tell me you think I'm stupid and my brother's fit." He walks over, shaking his head, clicking his tongue, "you have terrible taste in men."

You snort to mask the feel of your face burning, then pretend mopping is more exciting you really think it is, "I-" you clear your throat as you clean the tiles in front of your cake display, "don't even know which one you are."

The sheer dramatics of his gasp forces you to look back at him. The Weasley has a fist on his chest, pretending he was stabbed. He grunts in faux pain, "you're telling me I look exactly like Fred?" He rests the back of his hand on his forehead and turns away, "the horrors."

The laugh he pulls out from you is dangerous. It's full and giddy. It's more than amusement, it's full blown endearment that makes your belly roll. You stifle your laughter with your sleeve, feeling warmth linger on your cheeks. Your heart races as he, as George, saunters in front of you, hands smoothly sliding into his pockets. He tilts his head with a sigh, "might have to get even for that terrible remark, my..." he looks around the shop, "sweet neighbor."

You look up at him, pursing your lips to withhold your smile. You shrug, "I doubt a boy named Georgie can do so much damage."

He snorts and shakes his head, "cheeky bugger."

You tense when he leans forward.

"Did you just dare me to do you some damage, sweetheart?"

You open your mouth, but a strangled gasp is all that leaves you because he places his hands atop yours as he takes your mop from you.

"I feel like you don't need anymore damage, considering you did just break a mug."

You stare at him as he haphazardly starts mopping around. Your belly reacts to how he circles around the mop and shoots you a grin. You gulp, "how did you know I broke a mug?"

"Pfft," he scoffs, straightening up, resting his elbow on the top of the mop. Damn, he was tall. "I heard it break. Why do you think I came over here? To check on you!"

Your brows furrow as he puts the mop aside, "how'd you know it was a mug though?"

Georgie shrugs, "well, cause I'm a genius."

You give him a look.

He mirrors your look, then slowly begins to lean forward again, "d'ya want me to prove it?"

Your heart races as you slowly lean back, "w-what? No?"

"Wicked," he grins, straightening up, "you think I'm a genius, do ya?"

"W-What?"

"I just called myself a genius and you agreed," he puts his hands in his pockets and moves towards your cake display. He points, "that looks really good."

You compose yourself by brushing your hair back, "shop's not open yet, genius."

Georgie turns to you with a grin. He breaks into a chuckle, "why not?"

"I'm still cleaning."

He looks around the room and pulls out his wand from his pocket, "I-"

"No!" you raise your hands, "I like cleaning!"

He lowers his wand.

"I don't have anything to do before opening, and cleaning, you know..." you trail off and look away.

"No, I don't actually," he tilts his head in interest, "cleaning what?"

You shrug as you look back at him, "it gives me something to do."

He purses his lips and raises his brows, "wouldn't you rather do something fun?"

You chuckle and shake your head, "that's easy for you to say. You own Weasleys' Wizard Wheezes."

Georgie shakes his head and raises his hands, "that's ex-"

"And you have your twin brother."

"... so?"

"You have someone to have fun with. I bet you never get homesick at all."

"Oh," he lowers his hands, "distraction for the loneliness, is it?"

You purse your lips and shrug, "yeah."

He offers you a soft smile, "I'm not a genius actually," he points his thumb over his shoulder, "your broken mug pieces are on your counter."

You turn to said object and counter, feeling bashful that you forgot about it, "oh, that's-"

"And I didn't come here because I heard you break it," he buzzes his lips then rubs his ear, "I don't think my ears are good enough for that."

You raise your brows, "I mean, I figured. I don't think anyone's ears are good enough for that."

"I did come here because I wanted to spend time with you."

You freeze.

"Want," he corrects, "I want to."

You feel blood rush up your face.

"That is," he motions vaguely and shrugs, "only if you want to take back what you said about me being the stupid one and Fred being the fit one."

"You think I'm fit?"

You both turn to the front door, only realizing now the bell had rung. Your face was burning, "I-"

"This isn't about you!"

Fred walks in, "oh, ho, ho, I do beg to differ."

Overwhelmed by the two Weasley men who begin to bicker in front of you, you step back unable to do anything but watch for a moment. That is until George says:

"No, I told you I think she's cute."

Fred scoffs, "I totally said she was cute first!"

"Keep lying, you liar."

"I literally told you the moment she w—"

"SHOP'S STILL CLOSED!" you blurt, making them turn to you. You gulp as they turn to you, and exaggeratedly clear your throat, "though I appreciate you both," cough, "think I'm cute, I have to prepare things."

"What things?" they ask in unison.

You stutter, "t-things!"

"I can help," they say at once, turning to each other, "Jinx. Double jinx. TRIPLE J-"

"GET OUT!" you point to the door, "respectfully."

The twins visibly deflate. George smacks Fred on the chest, "this is all your fault."

"Mine?" Fred scoffs, "you're the one that-"

You cut their bickering off short by pushing them towards the door. They begin to protest but do not try to overpower you to stay inside. You huff once you manage to kick them out and wave them goodbye.

"I thought we could drop by at any time for a cuppa?!" George calls out.

Fred huffs and cups the sides of his mouth, "liar!"

You chuckle softly under your breath, face warm as ever as you give them a look, "later! Once I open!"

They both huff and turn to each other. Fred says, "that's not any time, now is it."

"No, it isn't," George agrees.

[vividxpages]

⋆꙳•̩̩͙❅ home is wherever you are ‧͙*̩̩͙❆ ͙͛ ˚

pairing: Jacaerys Velaryon x fem!Reader

words: 13k

summary: As the Christmas holidays approach, your parents summon you home to attend a business dinner with the Hightowers and secure a possible match with one of Alicent’s sons. With no intention to go, you spend the weeks of December with your boyfriend Jacaerys and your friends at Hogwarts, but as the holidays draw closer, you find yourself crumbling underneath your worries and it’s only a matter of time until Jace finds out…

A festive Hogwarts x HotD story.

warnings: Gryffindor head boy!Jace x pureblood!reader (they’re in seventh year), established relationship, fluff, festive and cozy vibes, kissing and making out, , bastardphobia, discrimination, the Targaryens are a legendary family of dragon tamers & riders, anxiety and bad coping mechanisms, Quidditch, vaginal fingering, handjobs, angst, burn injuries, mental breakdown, hurt/comfort, Christmas, happy ending, hopeful ending

a/n: this fic poured out of me within five days, so I am so excited to finally post it. if you don't like reading long fics on tumblr, you can also read it here on my ao3 account! Please consider leaving kudos or a comment on there if you like it.

Happy festive season to all of you ❤️

December at Hogwarts was a breath of cold sharp air and a warm blanket by the fire, both at once.

The cozy and freezing season showed itself at best in its contrasts at the castle by the lake, the bright snow all around it with the earthy colors on the inside, every fire and candle lit within the corridors and rooms of the school. There were only a few weeks left until Christmas and the atmosphere at the school was welcoming and cozy as ever, the air smelling of cinnamon and peppermint, pine and gingerbread.

In every corner, the preparations for the festivities could be spotted, whether students were having snowball fights near the forest or muttering spells into the Christmas cookies so they remained warm and soft throughout the week. In the cold landscape, groups of friends went on a snowy walk and board games were played in the evenings while others knitted Christmas sweaters or wrapped their presents until it’d be too late to give them out to their friends at Hogwarts.

In the middle of it all, there was you.

You were the only daughter of an old and proud pureblood family, a cruel fate of the stars which never had been easy for you.

As a child, you had often wondered if you were a changeling, misplaced on the wrong doorstep, a flower doomed to try her best to blossom between a thousand thorns. Going to Hogwarts and finding a home in those warm halls had been a blessing, but the relationship with your strict parents had only complicated itself more, until it eventually became a twisted and ugly thing. The situation at home only worsened for you since they somehow had found out you were dating Jacaerys Velaryon.

Their already disobedient and free-minded daughter with the dark-haired wanna-be Targaryen, son of Rhaenya Targaryen who they had sided against ever since the deep rift in the biggest and richest dynasty of wizards and witches had opened. It was a scandal, to know this illegitimate half-blood sullied your good name and virtue.

Of course, they had tried to talk some sense into you on many occasions, their words like poison clouding your mind until you knew one thing for sure; you hated them. And you were never going to end things with Jacaerys simply because they despised the match between you two.

With the Christmas holidays soon approaching, letters from your parents’ estate in the countryside had started to arrive and so far, each of them had been burned by a quick whisper from your lips. Instead, you were ignoring all your worries and pushed them far away into the back of your mind and simply by spending time with your boyfriend, it had worked out well for you, so far.

Falling in love with Jacaerys Velaryon had been as easy as choosing your wand all this time ago, as feeling the first magic of your life prickle beneath your fingertips.

Since you had been assigned to the same House, your paths had crossed often but briefly and something inside of you had always been mesmerized by him. As head boy and bright heir of Rhaenyra Targaryen, he was a wanted man, making it difficult at first to get to know him even as you lived and studied close to one another.

The way his addictive laugh echoed across the corridors when he walked with his younger brother Luke or his quidditch team, how he could lose himself in deep concentration during his studies and he achieved greatness to follow his mother’s grand reputation. It all only added to the quiet fascination you nurtured for him, his good looks and charming personality a dangerous fuel to the fire. While hard-working and ambitious, he was kind and courageous and when you finally became acquaintances through your friendship with Baela, you knew this could either end well or in complete heartbreak for you.

With your friend groups mixing, the two of you had danced around each other for the longest time. And while you really had tried to see him as a friend, your thoughts kept returning to wondering how it might be to kiss him, to hold his hand while you walked around Hogwarts, to know all of him and to be known by him.

It finally had hit you one day in Potions, when the amortentia you’d been asked to brew had started to smell like Jace’s quidditch jumper, his cologne and a unique scent of salt and fire. You had looked over at him in shock and to your surprise, he had already been staring at you, his own kettle a soft pink, similar to the bow you often wore in your hair…

It had been summer and with the privileges of the 6th year, you had been allowed to go stargazing on top of the Astronomy Tower. You had sat beside Jace, his jacket draped over your shoulders as your feet had dangled over the edge. When the first shooting star had passed by and everyone gasped in delight around you, Jace and you had only eyes for each other until he finally bridged the last little bit of distance between you and kissed you softly.

That night, you had fallen asleep together, sharing one sleeping bag as you giggled together in the darkness and shared kisses, every new one more daring than the last…

Ever since then, Jacaerys and you had been a dream team, the golden Head Boy and Quidditch star and the smartest girl of Gryffindor House.

Today, it was a quiet evening at the common room, only a few students still mingling around after dinner at the Great Hall. Jace and you had finished up early, taking a small plate of creamy tiramisu with you on the way to secure your favorite spot on the old and comfortably sofa by the fireplace.

The shadows of the flames warmed your legs as you read in a book, your hand absently brushing through Jace’s hair. Your boyfriend’s head rested in your lap, tiny and pleasant shivers going through him at your affections while he wrote a letter to his mother, his fingertips stained by the dark ink.

While Rhaenyra was a famous and feared auror, one of the best out there and honored multiple times for her dangerous missions against evil, she was one of the most loving people you knew, although you had not met her personally yet. But you heard how fondly Baela and Rhaena spoke of her, how often little care packages from home arrived for Jace and Luke, the brothers living separately at Hogwarts through Luke’s division into Ravenclaw where he was friends with Rhaena, but never being found too far apart from each other.

There was a comfortable silence between the two of you and from time to time, you fed Jace some Bertie Bott’s Every Flavour Beans and made him guess the flavors while you ate some of the sherbet lemons you couldn’t get enough of.

“And?” You asked, smiling at the way Jace’s brows furrowed in concentration.

“Hmm.” Jace traced little patterns on your knee, the closest part of you he could reach as he was stretched out on the couch. “It’s minty, but there’s something else in it. Maybe- ugh, fir resin?!”

You laughed as he grimaced, handing him the next one as you laid your book aside for the night. Jace chewed on the candy for a little more than a second before he looked up at you, grinning. “Oh, easy. Your lip gloss.”

“Huh?”

“It’s cherry.”

You snorted and rolled your eyes at him affectionately before leaning down and capturing his lips with a slow kiss. Your hair framed his face and he arched up to meet you, a delicate hand on your cheek as you kissed, blind and uncaring for everything else in the world around you. Maybe you could sneak out tonight, to your little secluded spot in the greenhouse?

“Ay, keep it together, there’s kids around here.” A deep, amused voice greeted you and Jace and you separated to see Cregan sitting down in front of the sofa, a knowing grin on the Quidditch keeper’s face as he looked at the pair of you.

“Good evening, Cregan.” You said overly polite and he barked out a laugh, grabbing one of your red gummy vines for himself as Jace sat up with a slight groan, placing the letter to his mother on the little table beside you. Instinctively, you leaned into his side, snuggling beneath his arm as the softness of his red and gold sweater caressed your cheek.

“I didn’t want to interrupt the two of you-“

Jace gave him a look. “But you did.”

“-but I wanted to ask if you’re coming to the 7th year student’s farewell party for the old year?” Cregan smiled at you, a nice sight since the wolf of the north was often serious around others, all duty and honor, but a secret softie at heart. “It’s happening next weekend. There’s gonna be lots of booze and music. There’s just one tiny thing that might piss you off, Jace.”

You looked at your boyfriend who furrowed his brows. “What is it?”

“Your uncles will be there too.” Cregan confessed darkly. “I would have objected but one of the other guys thought it’d be hilarious to have their asses there. Invites are already out. Sorry, man.”

You felt Jace tense beside you, his nostrils flaring at the thought of Aegon and Aemond walking into his common room. They were a delicate subject to him and you knew about the complicated tryst within his big family divided by the Targaryen and the Hightower side. They were powerful and influential with their great dynasty of dragon riders and tamers, yet they chose to shred each other to pieces. The mistrust ran deeply and the fact that they all were part of the most influential and powerful wizard family of the country didn’t help.

Aegon and Aemond, similar to Jace and Luke, were known around the halls of Hogwarts, but unlike the dark-haired brothers, they used it to their advantage, looking down on others and bathing in their admiration and fear to equal parts. Their younger sister Helaena had become yours and the twin’s friend, but she was the only sweet soul on her side of the Targaryen family.

Earlier this year, the tensions between the boys had escalated when Aemond had provoked Luke to the point where Jace had to drag his brother away from their uncle as he threw insults at him, the fight the top gossip subject in the next weeks. You knew what they whispered about Jace and Luke. Dirty bastards. Half-bloods. To people like your parents or the Hightowers, it was an insult, a curse. It was all a bunch of bullshit.

“Hey.” You said softly and rested your hand on Jace’s arm, drawing him out of his spiraling thoughts. You knew him all too well after all and at your touch, Jace softened a little, leaning back into the deep cushions of the couch. “We want to go, right? It’s probably the last big gathering before the season’s break. Surely you won’t let them ruin your night, Jace. Let them come, their words mean nothing.”

Cregan remained silent in front of you, patiently waiting through the silent exchange between the two of you. Jace squeezed your hand in his and then nodded, turning back to Cregan. “We’ll be there. Now hit the showers, man, you still reek of training.”

Your shared friend left with a triumphant grin and as the crackling of the wooden logs took over the quietness of the room again, you sighed and sneaked your hand underneath Jace’s sweater to warm yourself, your head resting on his shoulder.

“It’ll be okay.” You murmured, knowing the matter most likely had not left Jace’s mind yet. “There will be so many other students, we likely won’t even see them all night. Our group doesn’t want to hang out with them anyway, Jace.”

“I know.” Jace replied quietly, staring into the flames, the brown of his eyes shining like embers. “It’s not just Luke or me I’m worried about. I also don’t want you to get hurt by them. They are such pieces of shit, always causing trouble, if they’ll come near you…”

“I’ll hex them.” You suggested brightly and successfully lured a smile out of your Jace. “If they’re acting up, I’ll teach them a lesson. I can be very protective of the ones I love, too, you know?”

“Yeah…” Jace smiled at you, smitten and adoring of your courage and carefreeness. He tucked a loose strand of hair behind your ear and gently cupped your cheek, getting lost in your eyes. “One of the endless reasons I love you.”

“I love you too.” You whispered back, leaning into his touch. “Screw them, we are going to have our fun, okay? Deal?”

“Deal.”

You smiled back, biting your lip in consideration. “I believe we have been doing something of most importance before Stark interrupted us, wouldn’t you agree?”

Jace laughed, back to his smiley self around you and pulled you closer by the waist. “Oh, I agree wholeheartedly.”

You sighed as Jacaerys kissed you again, his lips slowly moving against yours as shivers ran down your spine despite the warm fireplace. You tilted your head to the side, gladly letting him take over the lead and granting his tongue entrance. At your side, your bag of candy rustled, but neither of you cared as you got lost in each other, Jace making sure to show you exactly how much he loved and appreciated you before it was time to separate and go to bed…

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

When the weekend came, Jace and you met down in the common room early to have breakfast at the Great Hall together. After pancakes and oatmeal, you had met with Luke and a few of his Ravenclaw friends to take a trip to the snowy Hogsmeade.

There were no time restrictions for you anymore with the both of you being in 7th year now and you were giddy and excited during the long walk, laughing as Jace started a snowball fight with Luke when about half of the way was done.

With your destination reached, you two separated from Luke and went straight to Honeydukes while Luke went off to go to Zonko's Joke Shop. You laced your fingers together with Jace’s and pulled him into the sweets store, sighing at the delicious smell of caramel popcorn and cotton candy.

Together, you browsed through the shelves and tried the little samples of your favorites, occasionally sharing a tooth-rooting sweet kiss. You brought a bag of chocolate frogs for Baela later, who was on prefect duty today and accompanied the 3rd year students to their first Hogsmeade trip, and a small treat for Jace and you to share. At the cash register, Jace stood close beside you and sneaked one hand into the back pocket of your jeans, making you blush and smile as you paid up.

Out in the snow again, Jace stopped by at the post office to send off his letter to Rhaenyra, quickly slipping a tiny hearty bone into it, which he had shrunken with magic and would later become a very monstrous snack for his dragon Vermax. For obvious reasons, no Targaryen kid could take their dragon to Hogwarts with them and so, Jace often missed his companion, although Helaena had crocheted him a mini-version when they were in year four.

Stepping outside, Jacaerys smiled at you as you bit off a gummy red vine and kissed your red nose. “Should we go to the Three Broomsticks Inn? It’s barely afternoon, we still have time.”

You sighed leaning into his side as you began to walk. “Yes, please.” At the thought of hot chocolate and the cozy atmosphere at the inn, your heart screamed for warmth.

“Come on then.” Jace kissed your temple and laid his arm around you. “Drinks are on me.” As always when you were out with him.

Usually, at least three of Jace’s mates were hanging around the inn, but today everyone seemed to prepare for the party back at the castle, so Jace and you were on your own, slipping into your favorite booth way back in the taproom where it was quiet and always a good hideout to make out with each other.

Laughing as Jace shook out his snowy hair, you skipped the bench opposite of his right away and made yourself comfortable on his knee. After ordering two butterbeers, you dove into your bag of candy and chatted about the classes you’d have together next week and what homework still needed to be finished until then. You were entirely uninterrupted here, in your own little world as Jace lazily caressed your body and peppered your neck with little kisses, the busy noises from the main room not reaching you at all.

 All too soon, it was time to make your way back. The snow had fallen thickly overnight and there was no doubt now that Christmas was approaching fast. At your side, Jace laughed at you as you stuck out your tongue and tried to catch a snowflake with it, his feet nearly slipping on a frozen puddle which made you giggle in return.

You always had liked the path leading back from Hogsmeade to Hogwarts, mostly because Jace and you could be alone and chat without anyone listening, especially the lower year’s little reporters who often wanted his opinions for their magazines. Now, you were walking hand in hand as Jace carried your purchases from the village for you when suddenly, your beloved owl came into view below the clouds and fir trees near the road.

“What’s Darling doing here?” Jace looked at you with curiosity as the owl briefly sat down on your shoulder and let an envelope sink into your hand. With a quick feathery nuzzle against your cheek, she launched herself into the air again and took off to the tower where she lived with her companions.

You stared down at the letter in your hands.

The paper was a tasteful black and dark blue and when you saw your own initials on the unbroken seal up front, you knew exactly who had sent you mail on the weekend.

“I’ll open it later.” You smiled blandly at Jace, stuffing the letter into the pocket of your coat and taking his hand again to walk back to the castle with him. “Let’s go, we’ll miss dinner if we loiter.”

Hours later, you were staring into space, zoned out although the large room around you was crowded and very much in the best party mood possible. The common room was full to the brim, chatter and music from the old stereo in the corner buzzing in your room. Everyone had wanted to join the last unofficial party of the year before going home to their families and students kept pouring in through the open door.

In the crowd, you could spot Baela and Rhaena, laughing with Luke and handing out little glasses with a suspiciously green content that smelled sharply of mint and liquor. Cregan had found a comfy spot in one of the big armchairs, passionately kissing a girl from Hufflepuff while some of your other friends were dancing carefreely.

Just yesterday, you would’ve been one of them.

But the words of your mother from the letter were replaying themselves in your mind over and over again.

The message towards you had been short and clear, yet full of hidden meaning; Your father and I expect you to join us for the holidays this year. We are to be guests at the Hightower’s estate. They are a respectable family and good allies of us and you will do your best to impress Alicent’s sons. A match with a powerful heir like they are is only suited and overdue for a young woman like you. We expect you home on the afternoon of the 21th.

In need to quieten the noise in your mind, you chugged your shot of firewhisky back, grimacing at the strong taste exploding on your tongue and squeezing your eyes shut for a moment. There was a familiar touch to your side and you were snapped out of your thoughts as Jace came up behind you, sneaking both his arms around your waist and drawing you closer.

“Hey, beautiful.” He murmured in your ear, pecking your cheek affectionately. “Is everything alright?”

You took a deep breath and turned around in his arms. Becoming a little weak in the knees at the sight of your handsome boyfriend, you nodded and leaned close as his hands stroked up your spine and played with your hair. In his dark red sweater and freshly washed hair, he looked particularly good tonight, a slight flush of warmth painting his cheeks.

“I’m just a little sleepy.” It wasn’t a lie, not really. “I think the trip to Hogsmeade today tired me out a little.”

Jace looked at you with soft eyes, lowering his voice and offering: “We could go upstairs and cuddle, if you want? It’s just a stupid party.”

Your heart melted at his offer, the knowledge he’d drop everything to make sure you were comfortable doing something to your already tender being today. Jacaerys made you so happy…why couldn’t your parents simply see that and accept it? You silently scolded yourself for returning to your parents again. You were eager to forget about all of it for the night, not sulk in your misery and let them deny you the fun you deserved to have.

You shook your head, a real smile on your face this time as you nudged him into the direction of the improvised dance floor. “I’m fine. Let’s have some fun, come on.”

Jace let himself be pulled into the crowd, his eyes traveling over your tights and the short, checkered skirt you wore tonight, your top a classy roll collar so no one could make fun of the hickeys he had left on you earlier today at the inn. Just as if it was the first time, he looked at you with so much love in his dark eyes, you forgot all your worries as he snaked his arm around your waist and you placed your head on his shoulder.

You swayed to the beat in his arms, allowing yourself to just be as Jace played with the soft edges of your hair, breathing your sweet perfume in and stroking his thumb over your side. Over his shoulder, you smiled back at the twins as Baela fumbled with her polaroid camera and quietly took a snap of you.

As you danced with Jacaerys, you were happy.

If only it could stay like this forever.

Further into the night, when the spontaneous bar in front of the fireplace had switched over to harder liquor one of Cregan’s guys had managed to somehow sneak past McGonagall, you stood together with your girls. Clinking your bubbly glass flutes, the pocket of your skirt kept the polaroid of Jace and you safe for the rest of the party and you caught Jace’s eye from across the room, gesturing that you were going to go to the bathroom real quick. He nodded and you excused yourself, walking down the corridor outside of the common room. Earlier, you had seen one of your roommates sneak off into the girl’s bathroom with a guy from Slytherin and you were not eager to walk in on them.

You walked down the hall, rubbing your arms against the cold of the walls when suddenly, a dark silhouette stepped out from one of the niches.

“Needed a breather as well?” Aegon smiled cooly at you, stubbing out his cig against the stone wall next to him. He watched you closely as you stopped, not sure how to assess the situation. His face was flushed, but otherwise he seemed to be not as drunk as normally during parties, which surprised you.

You gave him a curt nod. “Aegon.” As you tried to walk past him, he stepped into your way, holding up a hand.

“Truly, I’m delighted to see you, I must say.” A foul grin took over his features and you stepped back once more, the faint whiff of alcohol from him now hitting you. “My mother just sent me a letter about you today, you know? Got mail from home, too?”

You glared darkly at him, a look of despise Jace would’ve been proud of. “None of your business.”

“Oh, come on.” Aegon snorted, winking. “If the relations between our families are blossoming, we should get acquainted sooner rather than later, don’t you agree? Or perhaps, I can introduce you to my brother Aemond, if you prefer? My mother mentioned your parents aren’t particularly picky when it comes to a match for you. And Christmas is just around the corner…”

You froze.

He knew.

You stared at him, your clenched fists trembling with anger at his nonchalant and disrespectful manners, his eyes looking you over as if you were a prize he already had won.

“Come on, it’s about time you surround yourself with people of your status.” Aegon tried again, not letting you off so easily.

“I would rather die.” You spat out, glaring daggers at him and just as Aegon opened his mouth and took an abrupt step towards you, quick steps echoed down the hall. You whipped your head around and saw Jacaerys, stalking towards you and his uncle with fire in his eyes and a tense jaw.

“Ah, nephew!” Aegon greeted him cheerily, although a disgusted snarl now tugged at the edge of his mouth. “Me and your girl were just talking-“

“Shut up.” You hissed in warning, your hand itching to grab your wand which you wore tugged into the warm leather of your knee-high boot. A second later, Jace was at your side and rested his hand on your waist, protectively drawing you close.

“Are you okay?” He looked at you searchingly, his eyes flickering across your face with worry. “Leave her the fuck alone, Aegon.”

“We were just conversing. Is that forbidden now?”

Jace took a threatening step towards him and you knew your quick-tempered boyfriend wouldn’t hesitate to throw a spell against his uncle if he said another wrong word, although the consequences would likely be gravely. You remembered the day both Rhaenyra and Alicent had been summoned to the castle because of the fistfight between their sons…there was no need for a repeat performance.

“Jace.” You pleaded quickly, holding him back from doing something honorable and very, very stupid. Aegon grinned brightly at the two of you, clearly thrilled by the way you tugged Jace back by his arm, stepping between the two men. Under your breath, you mumbled: “Don’t. It’s exactly what he wants. It was nothing, I’m okay. Come on, let’s go, come.”

Jacaerys tore his murderous gaze away from Aegon and let himself be led away, his hand holding yours tightly as you brought more and more distance between them. Only when you reached the entrance door to Gryffindor House, you felt him exhale, yet the tension did not leave his body entirely.

You threw one last look over your shoulder and shuddered at Aegon’s vicious smile.

You were in desperate need of another drink.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

You rubbed your gloved hands together as a fierce breeze brushed against you, caused by the formation of Quidditch players on their brooms flying past you, Rhaena and Helaena. The girls and you sat huddled together on the bleachers by the Quidditch field, your wand steadily held up to produce a small magical fire in front of you.

Today’s quidditch training was in full swing and occasionally, you cheered Baela and Jace on as they chased across the field, spurred on by Cregan’s massive form flying from goal to goal to defend their score. In a few days, there was a match against Slytherin and none of them intended to lose against Aegon and Aemond before the year would end.

“I can’t believe we didn’t think of marshmallows.” Rhaena said regretfully and Heleana huffed out a laugh, her quick fingers skillfully knitting a new scarf. You for yourself had concentrated yourself on the black cat in your lap, which belonged to Rhaena since she had no luck yet in securing a dragon for herself back at home. Your friend bumped you into the side. “We could’ve made smores!”

Over your heads, Jacaerys halted on his broom, shouting encouraging commands before he flew on. Your eyes followed him across the field, a small smile tugging at your lips. “Next year, I promise I’ll bring chocolate.”

Silently, Helaena suddenly reached into her fluffy jacket and produced two chocolates bars from her pockets, making both you and Rhaena gasp in delight.

“Hel, you’re the best!”

You waved at Jace from the distance, wiggling triumphantly with the chocolate in your hand as your flames danced, and you swore you could’ve heard his laugh echo through the air.

“Are you fit for the Astronomy exam next Tuesday?” Rhaena asked, nervously biting her lip. “I feel like I got no clue about anything.”

“It’s not that complicated.” Helaena chimed in softly.

“Helaena, I love you, but you are close to being a medium, your opinion doesn’t count.” Suddenly, an idea crossed Rhaena’s mind and you laughed at her stunned expression. “Teach me, please, and I’ll help you with Transfiguration next week.”

“That’s cheating.” You sing-songed, earning a glare. “What? The only reason I passed the last History of Magic test is simply because my boyfriend is a massive nerd.” Your tutoring lessons with Jace had taken a while to become efficient though, since you two were easily distracted by each other’s closeness and often, your books had fallen off your bed during a heated make out session with him.

Rhaena groaned, leaning her head on your shoulder. “I’m glad when all of this is over, I can’t wait until Christmas break. Our grandparents will visit and we’ll all be together. What about you, guys?”

“I wish we’d spend Christmas together again…” Helaena mumbled, lost in her knitting. It was true, Jace and the twins only really saw Helaena at Hogwarts. Rhaenyra and Alicent only saw each other during brief encounters at the Ministry and it was better for everyone if Daemon didn’t see any of the Hightowers at all, really.

Rhaena looked guiltily at you before clearing her throat. “How about you? Any fun Christmas plans?”

It took all your strength to not meet Helaena’s worried gaze beside you. If Aegon knew about your parents’ plans, then so did she and you were not going to deal with this whole matter in front of your friends, especially since you kept all of this from Jace and intended to keep it that way.

You thoughtfully petted Rhaena’s cat, willing the dryness in your throat away. “You know, so far there’s been-“

“Oh, look who it is!”

A lightning bolt of black and red shot towards you, making the three of you squeal as Jacaerys slowed down on his broom and stopped right in front of the grandstand railing. His dark hair was disheveled by the wind and he looked like a prince in his Quidditch uniform, proud and sturdy with one of the quaffles tucked beneath his arm.

“Hi.” He grinned brightly at you as you wordlessly stuck out a hand to give him a piece of chocolate, one he took gladly but not without kissing your gloved knuckles first. From the distance, he had admired you longingly, the sight of you dressed in your bright coat and warm beanie close to the one of a princess. Jace could never stay away from you for long.

“Shouldn’t you play the game?” You challenged him and he looked over to Cregan, who already gestured him to rejoin practice.

“A kiss first.”

Rhaena and Helaena groaned in unison.

You gracefully stood, black cat still in your arms as you leaned over the railing and softly kissed Jace’s lips. He held perfectly still, the press of his lips on yours featherlight as you tucked a curl of his behind his ear.

For only a moment, the suppressed tension in you left your body and you only felt Jace, a high worth chasing for, even if it meant to lose yourself. But just as quickly as it rushed into you, it left with Jace whispering goodbye against you before he had to fly on.

It seemed like the weight sank back onto your shoulders the smaller he became in the sky…

As if the universe had somehow read your mind and decided to do you a great favor, Jacaerys took you to the Prefect’s bathroom in the late afternoon after training. While Jace as a head boy was mostly almost annoyingly responsible and accurate, he and you had often abused his privileges to sneak off into the luxurious hidden bathroom on the fifth floor.

When he had to calm down after a big game or you both needed a break during exam season, you retreated into the big swimming pool, where you sometimes washed his hair for him or he kneaded your legs for you while you told him stories sitting on the edge of the pool.

On other occasions, Jace and you simply were ridiculously horny, such as now.

Currently, you were in his lap, rhythmically rolling your hips as your tongues danced with each other. The hot water of the bath gently splashed against the edges and your hand curled into his wet hair, making him groan in pleasure. Jace’s sounds, his taste in your mouth was addictive, his passionate kisses making you drunk in a way no firewhisky ever could.

You needed to feel him until you completely forgot yourself.

And you were on a pretty good way to get there.

A breathy moan escaped your lips, your half-lidded eyes fixed on his angelic face as you rode his fingers deep inside of you. Jace was holding out a hand beneath your thighs, two of his digits fingering you sensually as his thumb played with your aching clit, luring the sweetest sounds from you.

“Such a good girl…” Jace purred, biting his plump lip as he watched you bounce in his lap. He leaned close, wrapping his lips around your rosy bud, softly biting into your flesh as you moaned loudly from the hot sensation. “Riding my fingers so well, such a sweet angel for me...”

Ever since Jacaerys and you had become a couple, you knew him as a slow and very thorough lover, always attentive and selfless when it came to sleeping together. With the slow roll of his hips and the endless praise, he could make you cry with bliss, dragging out the experience until you’d shatter into pieces in his arms.

But today, you needed him hard.

A part of you wanted him to spin you around and pull you down on his hard length, passionately fucking up into you until you had nothing left in you except for your love for him. But you knew Jace all too well for that.

So, you doubled down your efforts and tried to fuck yourself harder on his fingers.

Jace chuckled, love-drunk on you as he noticed your change of pace. “Eager, are we?” He crooked his fingers inside of you and you mewled, burying your face in his neck as you ground forwards, your tender walls convulsing around him.

“J-Jace…” You sighed, feeling your peak approach as he sucked at the sensitive sweet spot on your neck, his arm coming around you to press you closer against him as he kept on fingering you.

“God, you’re beautiful.” Jace mumbled in awe, tilting your chin up so he could look into your hazy eyes, his own cheeks flushed by the heat and your sight in his lap. “I know you’re close, sweetheart, come on, just a little more, let go for me, angel…”

That was all you needed to hear.

You came, stifling the desperate sounds in your throat by biting down on his shoulder, your thighs quivering as Jace softly talked you through your high, his fingers slowly stilling their movements inside of you. You squeezed your eyes shut, collapsing against him and breathing heavily into his neck.

In the afterglow of your orgasm, Jace pulled you close to his chest and held you tightly, his nose brushing against your cheek as he hummed in satisfaction. As your breath slowly began to calm down again, he let his hand wander up and down your back, especially giving a few tender spots attention as he massaged you until you nearly drooled on his shoulder with relish.

Never in your life had you felt as safe and wanted as you did in Jacaerys’ arms.

“So good…” Jace praised you, completely neglecting his own need that was still very apparent between his legs. “I love you so much, you did wonderfully, baby.”

You shivered, too aware of the sudden knot in your throat to say anything yet. For a while, the two of you simply relaxed like this, Jace’s hand cupping the water ever so often to pour over your naked back so you wouldn’t get cold. You were wound around him like a koala, unwilling to separate yet.

“I was wondering…” You hummed, signaling him you were listening, although you were still floaty. You could feel him smile near your neck, nuzzling the wet skin briefly before he quietly spoke: “…if there’s anything you’d like for Christmas?”

Your breath faltered, but you recovered quickly, swallowing down the lump in your throat. What did you want for Christmas? You wanted to burn your family’s manor to the ground.

To buy yourself more time, you absently kissed Jace’s jaw and licked the sensitive spot under his ear, which made him hiss and stifle a groan under his breath. You carefully paid attention to his reactions, how his hands on your waist tightened briefly and he exhaled shakily, his cock between your thighs stiffening even more until you could almost feel it throbbing against you.

“I want you.” You huskily whispered in his ear. Your fingertips brushed over his tip.

Jace let out a low moan, but shook his head. “You can have me all the time. Something special, think about it.”

“You are special…” You contradicted, kissing him briefly before leaning back in his lap and slowly beginning to stroke him from root to tip, his whole body tensing and relaxing at your much desired touch. “You are the best thing that’s ever happened to me.” He had no idea how true it was…

“Baby, f-fuck…” Jace breathed, his head falling back and mouth opening to a blissful little o. The wetness between your thighs returned quickly as you jerked him off beneath the surface, the water making the slide of your hand over his curved dick so much better, more intense than you could ever achieve it with spit.

His breath hitched deliciously as you twisted your wrist and pressed little bites and kisses to his chest, Jace’s body and soul exposed and willing just for you. You needed to get him off, needed to convince you that this was forever, that he wasn’t just going to disappear if you closed your eyes for a second too long. You needed to hear your name on his lips, a plea or praise, you didn’t care. You needed to lose yourself in him until everything was alright again.

And so, you continued to take good care of him, until the roaring inside your chest quietened and Jace’s hips bucked into your touch, only his sweet and whiny moans filling the steamy air of the baths around you…

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

A freezing cold winter wind blew over the field as the last Quidditch game of the year was in full swing. Gryffindor against Slytherin always drew the most attention and today, every last seat on the grandstands was filled, the crowd of students and teachers from the castle divided into red and green.

You pulled your scarf tighter around yourself as you squinted your eyes against the brightness of the sky, trying to see what your boy was up to up there. Beside you, Rhaena and Luke cheered, spurring Jace and Baela on as they raced towards Slytherin’s goal, passing the quaffle between them before Jace got it and swung it forcefully towards the golden ring.

The crowd erupted with applause and shouts as Jace raised his fist, shouting as Baela and the other players flew past him with cheers. You smiled up at your boyfriend, his joy and pride, before they moved on to defend their goal keeper Cregan now.

“And that’s another goal for Jace Velaryon, ten points for Gryffindor in this very much exciting last game of the season!”

After all, the game was not only so popular because of your rivaling houses. It was also because Jace was playing against both of his uncles, two of the most dreaded beaters of their year.

Today, they had seemed to make themselves the goal to give Jacaerys absolute hell on the field. The brothers were terrors on their brooms, completely ignoring Gryffindor’s seeker and racing after Jacaerys who was trying his best to avoid them in order to score more points for his team.

“What the hell are they doing?” Luke muttered beside you, looking unsure.

Your eyes stayed on Jace who once again looked over his shoulder to see Aegon and Aemond at his heels. “They’re trying to confuse Jace. This isn’t good, something is wrong.”

Dark letter envelopes swirled through your mind, words of your father who demanded for you to end things with Jace before Christmas so you’d be agreeable for the Hightowers. So far, you had not replied to them once and as the realization hit you, you wanted to vomit on the stands. This was the Hightowers’ revenge, to hurt Jace to show you what was at stake.

You saw Aegon lift his wooden club, a determined serpent-like grin on his face as Aemond threw something up in the air for him. You sprang up from your seat, shrieking: “Watch out!”

A shocked gasp went through the crowd as Jace was nearly hit by a bludger, only avoiding it at the last second by dodging it quickly and stirring his broom downwards, losing the quaffle in the process.

“These stupid idiots.” Luke cursed, gritting his teeth. “Why isn’t this called out? They have no business attacking a chaser like this!”

“It seems like there is a personal family feud happening in the sky today, remember to play fair and respect each other.” The commentator called out nervously, the game continuing although Cregan was fiercely discussing and gesturing with the referee on the side of the round field. But today, one of the profs Aegon and Aemond had called the game; everything was possible.

You were on edge, the cold breeze messing with your hair as you followed the game, always keeping an eye out for what Aegon and Aemond were up to. Luckily, they seemed to only mean to scare Jace, keeping the rest of their game pretty tame except for a few harsh bumps into his shoulder when they flew past their nephew.

You could tell Jacaerys kept himself in the background for a while, weary of the brutal energy from the opposite team, letting Baela take the lead and score a row of perfect goals for Gryffindor. When the final whistle echoed across the field, your fellow house members erupted into joyous shouts and a sigh of relief left you as Jacaerys celebrated with his team members.

As everyone on both teams descended down onto the field’s ground again, Jacaerys quickly flew over to where you stood, grinning triumphantly and leaning over the railing to kiss you fiercely. When you rested your hand on his shoulder for balance, you felt him wince.

“Your shoulder?” You whispered as Luke patted his other one and the others around you congratulated him.

Jace shrugged, crooking a smile at you. “Barely a scrape.”

Your eyes widened. “They hit you?”

“It’s alright.” He pecked your cold cheek before Cregan yelled from somewhere under you to get his ass over here and he had to leave. “Don't worry, okay?”

Easier said than done.

When the Quidditch team returned to the castle, you were already waiting for Jace, a small jar with a cooling herb cream resting in your lap. While your friends shared speculoos and hot chocolate by the fire, Jace was sitting in front of you on the soft carpet, leaning into your touch as you applied the salve to his bruised shoulder. You tried to keep up with the conversations around you, but your mind kept trailing off.

Was your life going to look like this from now on, constantly threatened and your love in danger and a target until you’d stop revolting against your parents’ orders?        

That night, you found yourself unable to sleep, staring off at the ceiling of the bedroom’s tower and listening to the wind outside. Everyone had gone to bed early and you had tried to read a little, but found no joy in it. Everything had turned out fine in the end today, why couldn’t you simply let it go?

You sighed, shifting to lay on your side, and stared at the picture frame on your nightstand. There were a few photos of Jace and you in there, but the one you liked most had been taken by the Great Lake earlier this year. You had fallen asleep with your head on Jace’s thigh, your hands still laced together, and he lovingly looked down at you, keeping watch as you found rest.

You stared at the photograph for a long time, but your eyes wouldn’t droop. With a frustrated sigh, you slipped out of bed and out onto the stairwell. But instead of going to the common room, you walked upstairs.

You held your breath as you opened the door to the boys’ bedroom, sneaking in on your tiptoes and squinting your eyes so you wouldn’t stumble over anything on your way to Jace’s bed. You stopped, taking a moment to look at his peaceful, sleeping form. He always had his mouth open a little bit, adorably curled into himself on his side as his chest rose and fell slowly.

A part of you regretted having come here, not wanting to disturb his well-deserved sleep, but another selfish part of you needed him close, to assure yourself everything would be okay in the end.

On his bed, Jacaerys shifted and let out a tiny groan, blinking his eyes open at you. Standing there in your sleeping clothes, you looked like a little ghost and his heart skipped an excited beat at you being here.

“Can I sleep here tonight?” You whispered into the darkness, fearing your voice would break if you raised it any higher. The sounds of ruffling sheets filled the room as Jace shuffled over and made space for you, opening his arms without any hesitation.

“Of course, love. C’mere, ‘s cold…”

You slipped underneath the covers, sighing as you were enveloped by Jace’s warmth, your boyfriend immediately pulling you against him and snuggling his face into your neck.  You slung your arm around his waist and breathed him in, trying to keep the dark thoughts swirling through your mind at bay.

He smelled like home.

He was your home and who could promise that you wouldn’t lose him eventually?

“Did you dream badly?” Jace whispered into your hair and you shook your head, clinging only tighter to him. You wanted to crawl underneath his sleeping shirt, to melt into him until you’d never been seen again.

“…just needed you.” You mumbled tiredly, your nerves calming down a little as Jace caressed you lightly in the dark. He hummed against your temple and kissed your cheek, not interpreting too much into your small words. “Go to sleep again, it’s okay…”

You closed your eyes too, swallowing against the vulnerable tightness in your throat as you slowly felt Jace drift off into sleep again. You internally scolded yourself to get it together, not wanting to risk any hot tears falling upon Jace’s skin. If you tried hard enough, you could pretend just a little longer that you weren’t breaking apart right in his protecting arms…

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

In the final two weeks before Christmas, you were sure you were slowly losing it.

As you prepared for the final exams of the year – no professor really having mercy on their oldest students at the castle – a final letter from your parents reached you, with instructions on which fireplace to use in Knockturn Alley to floo-powder travel home. Before that, you were to go to Madame Malkin to pick up a gown, which you were supposed to wear during the dinner to impress Alicent’s sons. The humiliating orders of your parents paired with the stress of all the exams you still had to ace quickly left you spiraling, causing you to retreat into yourself and neglect your friends.

More and more, they all began to talk about going home for Christmas and involuntarily, you had started to snap easily, wanting to be left alone to focus on your work to avoid their questions.

You watched the rain pour down outside of the windows, the busy chattering of the rest of your class like white noise in your ear. You had woken up tired already this morning and now you were stuck in potions class, the one you shared with Jace.

The thoughts about the upcoming holidays and an inevitable confrontation with your parents were eating you alive and you couldn’t concentrate, reading over the recipe of the potion you were supposed to make over and over again without understanding the words.

Beside you, Jacaerys worked away on his own kettle, but he had been keeping watch of you for a while now, gnawing at his bottom lip with concern. 

Since the Quidditch game, he could feel you slowly slipping from his grasp, distancing yourself when you spent time with your friends and going to bed early and getting up late. You fell asleep in the common room often, in his arms where he could see the dark circles underneath your eyes or alone on the couch by the fire until he had to wake you up for dinner. You ate less than usual and were only seen around in his hoodies, staring into space and daydreaming.

Jace worried about you, but you seemed not very eager to share your worries with him. In retrospect, he could now see that you had been retreating into yourself for a while now and he hated himself for not seeing it earlier. Now it seemed, all he could do was to be there for you and show he was listening if you wanted to open up to him.

“Remember, students, the mixture we are making today is intended to be only brewed by seventh year students for a reason!” Your professor walked between the aisles, peeking into a few kettles here and there. “You are to handle it with utmost carefulness.”

Jace noticed you staring at the parchment in front of you, your eyes not moving to read. He leaned over, lowering his voice to a whisper. “Baby? Could you hand me the goat hair you got over there?”

You perked up and his heart clenched at your glassy eyes, your pale skin. You rummaged around in the boxes you had been given, attempting a smile as you gave the vial to him. “There you go.”

He let his fingers brush over yours for a moment before you retreated, going back to your own potion. Jace suppressed a sigh, catching Baela’s eyes from across the room who had been watching the small exchange. They were all worried about you and you knew.   

If you didn’t find a way to prevent the forging of the poisonous band your family planned for you, you were not only going to lose yourself. You were going to lose every single one of your friends. Your hands started shaking at the thought of them despising you, avoiding you in Hogwarts and having to pick up the broken pieces you would leave between Jace and you when you eventually would have to end things before you hurt him even further…

You shuddered, grabbing one of the smoking glasses in the middle of the table for your kettle. What would Jace think if he saw one of his uncles and you, on the first page of the Daily Prophet, announcing the union between the Hightowers and your family-

The glass slipped from your grasp, the contents briefly sloshing against your hand before it all shattered on the ground.

The students around you gasped, taking a step back in fright while Jace took one closer to you, reaching out a hand. You heard him speaking to you, hushed and fast, but you couldn’t comprehend what he said as you looked at your hand in shock.

Burning streaks painted the palm of your hand red as if you had attempted and failed badly to catch a whip mid-air. You stared at the wound in disbelief for a moment.

Then, the pain came.

“Oh my goodness, hold on everyone, reparo!” The professor hurried over to your side and you silently watched as the broken glass to your feet levitated up on the table until all the liquor was back inside and sat perfectly in front of you. “What have I told you about handling this ingredient carefully?”

“Professor, she’s hurt.” Jace said, his voice dripping with worry for you. You could not look into his eyes, afraid of what you’d find in them. “She needs to go to the infirmary.”

You tried to take a steady breath and to your own shock, a little sob escaped your lips instead, just barely audible. The burn on your hand felt like wildfire spreading, but there was something else aching in you too, the stress and worries of the last week making it all worse. You knew if you’d stayed, you’d break down in front of everyone in the class.

You were not going to let them see.

Brushing off Jace’s hand on your shoulder, you made your way straight towards the door, not looking back despite the protests of your professor and Jace calling out your name. You tried to blink away the hot tears burning in your eyes, clutching your shaking hand close to your chest, but by the time you nearly ran down the corridor, they were already overflowing.

It was all too much.

Behind you, you heard Jace sprinting down the hallway after you and your chest only tightened, panicked at the thought of him seeing you like this. Just as you wanted to take a corner and disappear out of his sight, he reached out, gently touching your arm and holding you back.

“Baby, you need to go to the infirmary, Madame Pomfrey has to take a look at that.” Jace insisted emphatically, turning you around to face him. “Let me walk you-…”

You stared at your feet, not meeting his eyes as he took in your miserable state. Your nose already felt stuffy and your head hurt from keeping down your tears, heart pounding achingly in your chest. Jace opened his mouth to say something, shocked and worried to see you so sorrowfully.

“What’s going on, love?” He asked softly, stepping in front of you and shielding you from a group of passing students. You pressed your lips together, unable to answer and shaking your head instead. Jacaerys gently laid his arm around you, careful not to brush against your hurt hand, quickly thinking about what this all meant.

“Let’s go to Madame Pomfrey together, okay?” He said gently. “She needs to look at this, I bet it hurts, huh?”

At his soft tone with you, you let out a tiny whimper, hiding your face in his shoulder as he shushed you comfortingly, starting to walk with you. “Sh sh, it’s going to be alright, I promise. We need to cool this, c’mon, we’re halfway there, okay?”

You let yourself be led by him, exhausted and not strong enough anymore to keep up the act that everything was fine. On your way through the hallways, you disassociated a little, Jace’s arm around you and his whispered comforts the only thing keeping you halfway in the present moment. At least there was no one else at Madam Pomfrey’s desk, saving you from further humiliation.

“Hello dear, what can I- oh goodness, what has happened?” The elderly woman came around the table and inspected your hand.

“We were in Potions and one of the ingredients spilled.” Jace explained calmly, although his voice trembled. He led you towards one of the chairs by the entrance of the hall, staying by your side as the nurse took your hand and cooed compassionately. “I think it was a burn potion?”

“Yes, it looks like it.” Madame Pomfrey looked at you. “You must be in great pain, my dear.”

You had been for a long time.

“It’s nothing that’ll leave a permanent mark, we’ll cool this and then there’s a potion that should help as well overnight, hold on.” You watched silently as she returned with a slick cloth and hissed as she slowly placed it down on your palm. Jace’s hand on your shoulder caressed you soothingly and you bit your lip through the pain, not wanting to make a sound.

After she had wrapped your hand, Madame Pomfrey left for her potion cabinet, leaving Jace and you alone. Your hand throbbed dully, but the pain was slowly fading away and Jace sat down beside you, gently taking your other hand in his.

“Will you talk to me?” He asked quietly and without pressure. “I can tell something is wrong, dear. There has been for a while now, hasn’t it?”

You sighed, leaning back in your chair and playing with your hand in his. Closing your red eyes in defeat, you told him. “My parents have written to me to come home over Christmas. They want me to meet the Hightowers with them to-…They think a match with either Aegon or Aemond will be beneficial for the family.”

Jace exhaled, the expression on his face unreadable as he clenched his jaw.

“I-“ You searched for the words you had kept down for so long. “They don’t care for my opinion at all. I’m just a valuable chess piece and they move me however they want for their own wealth and station. It doesn’t matter what I want or what I think and-  I’m going to lose you and everyone will hate me, this is only the beginning of their schemes, I know it-“

Jace stopped you in your rambling and wordlessly took you into his arms, his hands itching to take his wand and simply hex your sorrow away. Something in you broke at his gentle embrace and you slumped against him, letting the tears flow as he brushed over your hair and kissed the top of your head.

“You’re not ever going to lose me, love.” He murmured, his need to comfort you clashing against the rage he nurtured for the other side of his family. “I’m not going to let this happen.”

“Me neither.” You sniffled hopelessly, looking up at him through glassy eyes. “I would rather die than engage with them. But I’m scared of what they’ll do if I don’t comply. If you’re getting hurt because of me, I will lose it.”

You felt yourself hyperventilating, but Jace took your tear-streaked face between his hands and deeply looked at you, making you focus entirely on him. “Hey, hey. No one will get hurt, okay? I promise you this, you will not lose me, my love. No matter what happens, me and my family will have your back. We’re adults now, we’re graduating next year, no one can tell you anything or force you to an arrangement like this. You only belong to yourself and I will not let them take you from me, alright?”

You nodded miserably, remembering your bandaged hand just before you wanted to wipe your cheek. Jacaerys smiled softly at you, brushing the tears away from you and kissing your forehead.

“Is this why you have been so distant recently?” Jace asked gently and you nodded in defiance.

“I didn’t mean to.” You said guiltily. “I was just so stressed and…I’m sorry.”

“Don’t be sorry.” Jace said, drawing you close again and resting your head on his shoulder. “I just wished I could’ve helped you earlier, you don’t have to go through this alone. I love you so much.”

“I love you too.” You sniffled one last time before the last of your tears tried and you felt a little lighter on the inside. Squeezing his hand, you took a deep breath while the two of you sat huddled together in the silence of the hospital wing.

After a while, the pain in your hand had retreated almost all the way and you longed for your bed. You let out a small yawn and Jace chuckled, nuzzling his cheek against your head.

“You know, if I would’ve known, I would’ve asked you this so much earlier.” Jace shook his head, softly cupping your cheek and stroking your heated skin. “Will you spend Christmas with me? You can stay over at my family’s home for the entire holidays, we have enough space. I’ve been thinking about it for some time now and I want you there with all of us, more than ever now. My mother would be delighted to have you, we all would. And I can’t have you going to your parents now, I just can’t. Hey, please don’t cry again.”

You laughed watery, not able to stop the emotional tears from coming. You were overwhelmed by Jace’s question, how much love laid in his proposal and you couldn’t stop your heart from screaming out yes, yes, yes.

You pressed your forehead against Jace’s, playing with his hair as you smiled. “Yes. It would be an honor to be with your family for the holidays. I want to spend Christmas with you, if you’ll have me.”

“I always will. My home is yours.” Jace mumbled softly, wanting to press a kiss to your nose. 

“And you are mine.” You whispered back and were quicker, pulling him down into a slow kiss and putting all of what you felt in that moment into it as your lips slowly moved against each other, Jace’s hand resting on your waist while the other disappeared in your hair, tilting your head to the side.

You’d protect him just as he was going to protect you.

And as you two kissed and Madame Pomfrey eventually walked in on you, the way Jacaerys jumped even made you giggle, you knew you were going to be alright.

⋆｡˚❆˚ ｡⋆

On Christmas morning, you woke up in the arms of the love of your life.

Above you, there was a beautiful hanging mobile, its little dragons dancing in the warm morning sun. You smiled, enjoying the way the sunbeams fell onto the checkered thick blankets of the bed, how the old heater by the window crackled and the quiet sounds of the house made it feel like a real home.

Stifling a little yawn, you nestled back into Jace’s embrace, your boyfriend still in dreamland as you slowly took in your surroundings. Jacaerys was plastered against your back, one of his arms slung over you and resting protectively on your stomach underneath his shirt you had stolen. The other rested under your head as a pillow for you and you noticed with amusement how his hand twitched from time to time while he was dreaming.

Jace’s childhood bedroom was exactly how you had imagined it to be.

On a big shelf in front of his bed were countless books on magical history and dragons, whether they were biographies or travel reports, the great novels of famous wizards and witches and tales he had read when he was younger. On the walls were photos of his family and friends at Hogwarts and you, again and again and again, smiling back at yourself from every corner of the room. His closet was a neat mix of hoodies – which you wanted to take with you, preferably all of them – casual clothes and more elegant things to wear for official gatherings of his well-known family.

Underneath the covers of his twin-size bed, you felt safe, sheltered from the rest of the world and you sighed happily, snuggling your cheek against his bicep just as Jace stirred behind you.

You turned in his arms and you felt as if your heart was golden when the morning sun reflected in Jace’s brown eyes blinking sleepily at you.

“Good morning.” You whispered, a besotted smile on your face as Jace’s face scrunched up and he quickly turned his head so he wouldn’t yawn in your face.

You laughed quietly, snuggling closer to him underneath the thick blanket you shared and tangling your legs together. Jace sighed blissfully and pecked your cheek as he brushed your hair back behind your ear. Your hand had been healed for several days now. “’morning, beautiful. Merry Christmas.”

You smiled, although a little sadness remained inside of you. Maybe it was not ever going to leave again. “Merry Christmas, Jace.”

Ever since you had arrived at the town house of Jacaerys’ family in London, the Targaryens had done everything to give you a warm welcome after you had never showed up at Knockturn Alley to throw a hand of floo-powder to the fire. Jace’s brothers had been particularly excited to meet you, the girl on Jace’s photos and his mind when he was home during summer, and his mother and step-father had been pleased to finally meet you as well.

Two days ago, far in the evening when you had sat close to Jace in the living room and listened to one of Rhaenys’ stories as glasses of cherry wine were shared and candles lit, a final letter from your parents had reached you.

Seven simple words on paper for all eternity.

You are no daughter of ours anymore.

While you had stared wordlessly at the message in your lap, Rhaenyra and Daemon quickly had sent everyone else to bed until only the adults, Jace and you remained. A whirlwind of emotions had rushed through you then and before you knew what came over you, it was like a dam had broken and you were crying. With Jace’s arm securely around you as he softly whispered into your ear and Rhaenyra reaching over to hold your hand, you had mourned the relationship you never had with your parents, the tears both suffocating and freeing you at once.

You were released from their clutches, after all.

And you had been lucky enough to find your real family along the way.

After that, when Jace and you had gone to bed and you had slept through the entire night, the holidays had been going splendidly. And when Rhaenyra had assured you during breakfast that you stood under her family’s protection now, you knew you were going to be okay.

For the first time, you truly felt at home.

You went for walks around the neighborhood, building snowmen with Jace’s little twin brothers and making hot chocolates for everyone in the afternoons. You made gingerbread houses with Baela and Rhaena and asked Rhaenyra all about her career as an auror. Daemon you had beat at Wizard’s chess, leaving him speechless while Jacaerys cackled in the background.

One afternoon, Jace’s family had left the house for some last errand running before Christmas and he had loved you in front of the fireplace, slowly eating you out and letting his hands wander over your naked body on the furs...You had rode him until the two of you were breathless and you had almost drooled on Jace’s shoulder in bliss as he had rocked into you at a toe-curling slow pace.

You smiled at the memory, happily closing your eyes and leaning into his touch when Jace started to softly kiss your neck, his fingers digging into the soft flesh of your waist as he pulled you half-atop of him. Like this, your leg was hooked over his side and his hand cupped your cheek, keeping you close while he ravished you with little kisses.

“Jace, we should go downstairs…” You breathed, your eyes fluttering closed and mouth dropping open as Jacaerys paid special attention to the sweet spot on your neck now, nibbling at the sensitive skin before licking over it soothingly.

Jace let out a hoarse little sound, something between a groan and a whine. “Five more minutes…” He nuzzled his face into your shoulder and you chuckled, combing softly through his hair while he cuddled with you.

“Don’t you want to get your gifts?” You teased him playfully and squealed when he squeezed your bum, which ultimately ended in a small pillow war until you threatened to hex every of his books to fly an attack on him.

He smirked at you as he helped you out of bed, a small flushing adorning his pretty face. “I already got the best gift right here.”

And how were you supposed to not kiss him right then?

It only took a little more convincing and willpower to not stay in bed with Jace until you two descended down the staircase together, the excited sounds and conversations from the big salon guiding your way. Jace had changed into a dress shirt and some nice tailored pants while you wore a dark velvet dress with a turtleneck, the ballerina shoes on your feet a festive red. In your hair, you wore a bow and Jace squeezed your hand in his before you walked into the room to join his family, stopping briefly one more time to kiss underneath the mistletoe that hung in the hallway.

“Good morning, everyone!” Jace beamed as the little twins ran up to him, excitingly talking over each other about what they got for Christmas. “Did you get some nice things this year, guys?”

Rhaenyra smiled warmly at you and you looked into the round, a little shy out of the sudden to be present at such a family-centric moment. “Merry Christmas…”

Rhaenys invitingly patted the empty space between her on the couch and you joined her, Baela and Rhaena as the twins pulled Jace over to the large Christmas tree. There was a little locomotive flying around it as it chu-chued and the ornaments had a certain spark to them that could only be explained by a charm.

“Jace look, we got a magic kit to make fireworks!” Aegon and Viserys basically vibrated with happiness. “We are going to blow up the ministry!”

Daemon barked out an amused laugh, looking at their sons proudly while Rhaenyra just shook her head. “No, we are not blowing anything up, you can at least wait until New Year, boys.”

Meanwhile, Corlys and Luke were busy with a big photograph book the latter got, the pictures of the sea and its many creatures and legends coming to life and nearly making a wet mess on the ground between them.

“We’re so glad you’re here.” Baela nudged you in the side, lacing your fingers together while Rhaena did the same on your other side. “You’re part of our family. That's all that matters, alright?”

You nodded, not trusting your voice as you hugged them both. You watched together as Jace unpacked a large present, revealing a brand-new Quidditch gear and looking at his parents speechlessly before he went to hug them both tightly. In the room, presents left hands and found new ones and soon, the ground was littered with gift wrapping paper and Jace had gravitated towards you again, sitting down in an armchair as well and bidding you over silently.

His family, sensing the coming moment of quiet between you, went on with unpacking and gifting each other as you sat down on Jace’s knee and smiled at him.

“You haven’t opened yours yet.” Jace mumbled mysteriously and you gasped as he pulled out a little box.

“Jace, you didn’t have to-“

“I wanted to.” Jace insisted, his thumb caressing your thigh as he looked at you seriously. “I love you. It’s Christmas. And…I hope you’ll like it, if not, I could bring it back and you can choose something else-“

You opened the bow around the box and opened the lid, your hands shaking despite yourself. Inside, bedded on a little velvet pillow, waited the most beautiful necklace you had ever seen. It was a delicate thing, a shiny pearl hugged and protected by a swirl of silver. Your finger brushed over the piece before you looked at Jace in disbelief.

“Jace…it’s beautiful.” You couldn’t help the tears welling up in your eyes. “It feels magical, doesn’t it?”

“Yeah.” Jace said shyly, carefully brushing your hair over your shoulder so he could help you put it on. The cool silver rested perfectly around your neck as Jace’s hand splayed out on your lower back. “It’s…us. Here, take a look.” He lifted the pearl to your face and it took you a moment to see what he meant.

It was hard to explain. For a second, you only saw the smooth surface of the irregular pearl, but then it changed, making room for…memories. You stared into it in awe, as moments of Jace and you flashed before your vision.

You and him on the train to Hogwarts, sharing sweets and napping. The two of you studying together outside by the lake, a blanket thrown over your legs while you made little fireflies dance over your heads. Sharing breakfast at the Great Hall and kissing in the rain. His laughter and yours. A whisper of I love you in your ear. Jace smiling at you and lacing your fingers together…All these tiny moments that made life and love with him so good.

You slowly put down the pearl, lost for hours as you looked at your boyfriend. “I…I have never possessed something as wonderful as this, in my entire life, Jace.”

Jacaerys flushed a bright red, cooing at you when you quickly brushed a tear away. “I’m glad you like it, angel, but please, I can’t see you crying on a day like this.”

You laughed quietly, lifting his chin and kissing him slowly before leaning your forehead against his and whispering: “Thank you. It’s so beautiful, I love it. I love you.”

“Love you too…” He smiled at you. “I’m so glad I could pull this charm off, it wasn’t as easy as the books said.”

You poked his shoulder playfully. “Speaking of charms.” You reached into the pocket of your dress, producing a little package of your own. “Uh-uh, don’t look at me like that, if you get to surprise me, I can return the favor. Give me your hand. And close your eyes.”

Jace complied, waiting curiously as you fumbled with something in his lap. Then, he felt something cool on his wrist and opened his eyes again, meeting your bright smile as his heart melted.

“It’s an enchanted bracelet.” You explained to him as he looked at it, fascinated by the way the little dragon scales seemed to move, its subtle green shimmer perfectly matching Vermax’. “There’s a spell on it meaning to protect you from harm and bring you good luck.”

You didn’t have to tell him part of the reason why you’d chosen it for him. A part of you would continue to worry, but as long as Jace was with you, you were strong. You both made each other strong.

Jace looked at you softly and with understanding in his eyes and turned the bracelet on his wrist, in awe of your pure talent.

“I also made sure it can’t slip off during a Quidditch game-“

He swallowed the rest of your sentence with a kiss.

You smiled against his lips, letting yourself be kissed by him and nearly forgetting that you were in fact not alone. For just one more moment, you let yourself be surrounded by him, his hand still securely on your waist as the other played with your new necklace before-

“Hey lovebirds! Come on, breakfast is ready!” Luke called over from the doorframe and you and Jace laughed together as you helped him up. The rest of your family already was in the dining room, busy with finding seats and talking over each other.

“Thank you.” Jace whispered at you, laying an arm around your shoulder. “For everything. These are the best Christmas holidays ever.”

“We haven’t even had our New Years party.” You hummed, excited for the future for the first time in a long time.

“I can’t wait.” Jace grinned, holding out the chair for you at your family’s table.

Yes, you couldn’t wait to see what the future brought.

You smiled at him. “Me neither.”

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