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joelmillerisapunk · 2 days

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Beach Daddy V. Stay

daddy!joel miller x f!reader

series masterlist • masterlist

wordcount: 15,628

summary: You find yourself caught in a whirlwind of passion and scandal with Joel, while a mysterious blackmailer threatens to expose your secret romance. And other drama.

warnings: 18+, age gap, just the tip unprotected 👀, dramaaaa, sweet bby Reggie 😘

notes: But that gif (from pinterest tysm to Whomever the Creator is) is exactly how Joel looks when he steps out of his car, searching. ty @saradika-graphics as always for the divider

Standing in his bedroom, after your confession to him about Todd being your ex, Joel kisses you.

He's gentle at first. Then, before you know it, you're locked together, his tongue gently teasing you to open your mouth until your lips part, and he pushes between your lips with an urgency that has your skin tingling and your core lighting on fire. His fingers set the skin of your cheek ablaze.

Your heart drums in your chest at the anticipation in the air at your closeness. You are so close that you can almost feel the sharp edges of his stubble that has dusted his face as the day grows to a close. Releasing your lips, he whispers, “I can't imagine not knowing you, darlin'.” His breath is warm against your lips. The small vibrations send waves of energy through your entire body. Goosebumps prickle your arms. The sweet smell of cinnamon on his breath, and his sandalwood cologne, mingle perfectly together.

The sensation is too much for you to bear, so you close your eyes, letting Joel take over, as you try desperately to etch every second of the moment into your memory. “I can't imagine not knowing you either, Joel,” you say breathlessly, your eyelashes fluttering with anticipation.

He presses his lips softly to yours, the heat of your lips combining. The warmth spreads through your entire body, even to your bare feet against the cold tile floor. As softly as it started, you want to feel the pressure of his strong arms around you, crushing you against his muscled torso. You lean into Joel's chest, his muscles so tight they are unmoving. He responds to you by sliding his hand up your back and pressing you to him. His lips match the sudden intensity, and you part yours, and he pulls your bottom lip between his. You hold back a moan as he softly bites your bottom lip, but you can't help your hand making their way into Joel's hair. As your fingers slip through the softness of his perfectly styled locks, the scent of sandalwood intensifies.

Before you can register the change, Joel's hand, which had started out on the side of your face, is cradling under your butt, and Joel pulls you even closer to him. You feel the thumping of his chest as your body rests against his, and you deepen your kiss. You can feel the hardness of him between your legs and pull yourself closer, unable to keep your body from satisfying your craving for him.

Time feels as though it stands still as Joel holds you to him, your hands lost in his hair. Just as quickly as it had all started, the moment shatters. His cell phone beeping is deafening against the silence of the room and breaks you out of your entangled trance. Your feet hit the floor, the cold tile shocking you back to reality. You both stand there for a moment, breathing hard, your hearts racing as you try to come back to reality.

“Darlin', I am so sorry. I lost control of myself for a second,” Joel says.

You wish he'd lose control more often.

You touch your hand to your mouth, where his lips had just been. You ache at the absence of him. He runs his hands through his already mussed hair and takes a few steps back from you. “That's okay,” you say, trying desperately to catch your breath. It takes all you have not to run back into his arms. Doesn't he sense that the feeling is mutual? You want him just as badly as he wants you. Maybe more so.

“Let me turn this off so we can talk-” Joel's face falls as he takes his phone from his pocket and reads the text message on the screen.

“Is everything okay?” you ask, watching the worry lines reappear between Joel's eyebrows.

“I’m so sorry. I have to deal with this,” he says, swiping his finger across the screen.

“I will leave you to it,” you say, walking toward the door. You need to be alone to understand what has just happened between you anyway.

What have you just done with your friend's dad?

“We will talk about this, about us, I promise,” Joel says, looking longingly into your eyes before turning back to his phone. “Bruce, what did you find out?” Joel says into the phone. That is your cue to leave.

You silently pick up your shoes next to the door and slip out into the hallway. You close the door softly, silently clicking the latch into place. You lean against Joel's door, listening to his muffled voice as he talks on the phone. Even through the door, you can tell that whatever the news is, it isn't good. Laughter sounds at the opposite end of the hall. Knowing what it would look like to come out of Joel's room, shoes in hand, you retreat away from his room and the approaching voices. The last thing you need is for Sarah to think you have slept with her father.

Your feet patter against the marble flooring in the hallway. You consider going back to your room, but you know you won't be able to sleep after the kisses you've just shared with Joel. You feel like you need to make an appearance back at the party before Sarah notices your absence at the same time that her father is gone. However, you can't seem to catch your breath, so you walk as slowly as possible back to the kitchen. You stand for a long time, watching people laughing, dancing, and raising their drinks in silent speeches you can't hear. Your mind is still too caught up in what has happened with Joel.

Eventually, you open one of the kitchen doors to the back patio, and the engagement party is still in full swing. Clearly, no one has noticed Joel and you heading into the house together. You are thankful for that, at least. You should've known you wouldn't be missed by this crowd. You spot Todd with Sarah and make sure you are out of their eyesight quickly. You grab a glass of champagne and lean against the wall by the pool looking out at the ocean. It feels like you can still feel the tingle of Joel's lips against yours. You feel good, despite the toxic situation with Todd. Joel is clearly as attracted to you as you are to him. You replay your kiss over and over in your mind. You still can't believe it's happened. Finally.

But then, what does this all mean? You still have so many questions…

You finish your drink and set the empty glass on a table, turning to walk toward the kitchen when you hear someone yell.

“Cannonball!”

A man with long brown hair splashes into the infinity pool, soaking you in the process. You watch the ripples disturb the surface of the pool and water spill out the edges. You leave quickly, before the man reemerges and retreat back inside as a wave of laughter hits your back.

“Is this whole trip taking every opportunity to slap me in the face?” you mumble to yourself, taking off your heels again as you head for the stairs. You leave a dripping trail of water all the way to your room. You can't help but remember walking into AmoreBelle in a similar state when Joel had bought you the dress in the first place.

You hang your cocktail dress to dry in the shower, hoping that it isn't ruined. Maybe you will send it to the dry cleaners when you return to New York. You have no idea how to care for a dress so nice. You know if you try to clean it yourself, you are sure to ruin it. The smell of chlorine that clings to your skin nudges you toward the pedestal bathtub at the far end of the bathroom. You turn on the tap and let the steam from the hot water fill the room. You grab a glass of water and turn on some music. Slipping inside the warm embrace of the water, you are instantly taken back to the heat of Joel's body pressed to yours. Your lips press delicately against his. The feel of your body wound tightly around his. The way he smelled. He was intoxicating. You can't believe you've just kissed Joel. You've thought about it a few dozen times, always talking yourself out of it because he is your friend's father, but no amount of imagination could compare to those few blissful minutes. He was so much more than you'd imagined.

A text flashes on your phone, which you've set on a towel next to the tub. You dry your hands and pick up your phone to find a text from Lin waiting for you.

Lin: There was a last-minute cancellation on a flight out tomorrow. Do you want us to change your booking for you? I can still meet you at the airport to pick you up. Let us know ASAP.

This afternoon you would have texted Lin back instantly, begging for her to get you on the soonest flight out of here. However, that was before your shared moment with Joel. Even with Todd being here and constantly trying to get you to sleep with him, you don't know if you want to leave. “What would he think if I jetted off the day after we kissed?” you ask the ceiling of the bathroom.

You sink lower, covering half of your face in the warm water. The water has completely cooled when you've finally made up your mind. You drain it out of the tub, and with pruny fingers, type out a response to Lin.

You: I need one more day. Something big happened. I will explain everything when I get back. See you in two days.

You can't leave yet. You've just let Joel know how much he's come to mean to you. How can you leave now? You've wanted this for longer than you've let yourself admit. You've wanted this since the first time you saw him. You have to see Joel one more time before you leave. If you leave now, you'll never know what might happen between you. You're not willing to risk that, not to escape Todd or Sarah's wealthy friends. You have to talk to Joel; you have to know what this is.

"Bruce. What did you find out?" Joel asks the head of his security team, his voice betraying none of the turmoil he feels inside.

"We have reason to believe that Blaine knows your current location in the Bahamas, sir," Bruce's voice echoes on the other end of the phone.

Joel looks up when the door clicks shut; you've slipped away during his eagerness to call Bruce. He feels like a complete ass. He kissed you, and then, mere seconds later, he was on the phone, his attention elsewhere.

"Sir?" Bruce's voice pulls Joel back to the present.

"I'm sorry, Bruce. What did you say?"

"We are worried about your security measures in the Bahamas. You have no one with you from the team. Please tell me you have been activating the security system we had installed."

Joel has completely forgotten about the security system in the rush of preparing for Sarah's engagement party. He'll have to remember to set that after they get off the phone.

"How do you know that Blaine knows where we are?" Joel asks, his mind already racing with the implications.

Seconds later, his phone buzzes against his ear. Joel puts Bruce on speaker so that he can read the incoming messages. He's sent him multiple screenshots of Sarah's social media pages. There are at least ten posts in the last three days, all pictures of her on the beach or lounging out on the yacht. In the last message is a picture of the Bahama beach house with the caption "Engagement Party at Daddy's!"

"Shit," Joel mutters under his breath.

"She has been documenting her every move, and in turn, documenting yours as well."

"I should have known she would be posting. She never stops."

"It would be wise, sir, to advise your daughter to stop posting, at least for the time being."

"That, unfortunately, won’t happen. Sarah has made social media her career. She will never agree to stop posting."

"Even if it is putting you and your entire family at risk?"

"She doesn't know about Blaine, and it's going to stay that way," Joel says bluntly.

"Of course, sir."

"What do you suggest I do?" Joel asks, his mind already half-focused on finding you.

"Is it possible to head to a new destination? We may have caught this early enough that you can leave before Blaine finds a way to get to the Bahamas."

"I’ll see what I can do. I likely won't be able to make that kind of arrangement, though. I have a house full of guests at the moment."

"I understand, sir. Should I send a few members of my team to you?"

"I really don't think that is necessary," Joel says, hating the idea of having any of his bodyguards follow him everywhere while he's on vacation. He gets enough of that at home. He also selfishly knows that he and you likely wouldn't get another moment alone if he agreed.

"I wish you'd let us send someone out just to watch the perimeter at least," Bruce says with a sigh. "I'm just a call away if you change your mind. I'll have some of my men on standby."

"Thank you, Bruce. I will let you know." Joel hangs up the phone and resumes pacing his bedroom. It feels excruciatingly empty after you left. He starts to make his way towards the door to go and find you when his phone rings again.

"Alester," he says, answering the call.

"Good evening, sir. I am so sorry to bother you during your daughter's engagement party," Alester says.

"Alester, you know I am never too busy to talk to you," Joel says with a laugh. No one knows better than Alester just how much of a lie that is. He is always too busy.

"I just got off the phone with the security team. Have you talked with Bruce yet?"

"Yes, I actually just got off the phone with him."

"Oh, good, then you probably know more than I do. I just wanted to call and assure you that your accounts have all been secured. I also went over your father's will again with a fine tooth comb, and it is just as I expected, airtight."

"Thank you, Alester. That brings me a lot of peace of mind."

"Just be careful, Joel. It sounds like Blaine will stop at nothing to bring down the Millers."

"Honestly, it would be a waste for him to come here. I have nothing on me of any value to him. He would be smarter to wait until I am back in New York. If he does show up here, there is nothing he can take from me."

"Just be careful, sir. If Blaine realizes that he won't be able to get money, he will likely go after something else."

"What could he possibly go after, other than my money?" Joel asks, curious as to what Alester is referring to.

"Your reputation," Alester says with obvious anxiety in his voice.

"You make a good point, Alester. This is exactly why I depend on you so much. I will be on high alert."

"Take care, Joel."

Joel hangs up the phone and tosses it onto his bed, not wanting to deal with anything more for the rest of the night. The soft thump of the phone on the mattress breaks the silence of the very empty room.

The realization that you had left, and that he had let you, hits him in the stomach. Joel places his palms over his eyes, and the first thing that comes to mind is you and your kiss. The memory of your eyelids as they delicately fluttered shut right before his lips met yours. He can almost feel the heat of your body pressed up against his and the perfect curve of your ass as he pulled you up to him. He needs to find you. You'd told him your truth about Todd, and now it was his turn to tell you his truth. He needs to explain that it was his bastard brother who ruined their moment.

Your touch must have addled his brain; it was the only logical explanation he could find as to why he would let you walk out of his room. How could he have let you walk away, especially after a kiss like that? Joel is desperate to find you and makes his way out of his room and down the hallway, even knowing his hair is in a state of disarray. He can't waste time fixing it; he also doesn't want to mess with your handiwork.

He makes his way back to the party, hoping that you had come back there. He scans the sea of drunken people, searching for you. A flash of red gets his hopes up, but they quickly fall as the woman turns around. The red-haired woman does not hold a candle to you.

"Daddy!" Sarah squeals, catching sight of him.

"Sarah, sweetheart. Are you having a nice time?" Joel says as he tries to seem as interested as he can. Even though he is desperate to cut the conversation short and find you. He knows the longer he lets their moment pass, the harder it will be to get it back.

"It is absolutely amazing, Daddy. Have you tried the Sarah lemon drop?" she asks, but she shoves a drink into his hand, not waiting for his response. The next thing he knows she is hitting the side of his glass with a fork, getting the crowd's attention. "My Daddy, who was sweet enough to throw this amazing party for me and my fiance, would like to give a speech in our honor," Sarah says, her voice raised to the entire crowd.

Nothing quite like being put on the spot. However, Joel knows that if Sarah wants it, she will stop at nothing to get it. He can't help but wonder if his daughter had purposely set her sights on Todd, knowing he was not single. Sadly, he knows better than to think she isn't capable of such a thing.

"Thank you, Sarah, for that wonderful introduction. I would like to welcome you all to my home and thank you for taking the time to celebrate my beautiful daughter and her future husband," Joel says, holding his glass up to the couple, and the crowd follows, raising their drinks too. He can't think of anything complimentary to say about Todd, so he decides to focus on the good aspects of his daughter's character. However, that proves to be more difficult than he had originally thought. "Sarah has always known how to get exactly what she wants." Shit, that sounded harsh. "So I know that because she has put her heart into having a happy marriage, that is exactly what will happen for her. I wish all the best to my one and only daughter." The crowd claps at the wrap-up of his speech, and Joel hopes he has pulled it off without upsetting Sarah.

"Thank you, Daddy!" Sarah says, pecking a small kiss on his cheek. He guesses he hadn't blundered too badly.

"Where is Todd?" Joel asks Sarah, surprised to see that he is not by her side.

"Oh, I'm not sure. I've been having so much fun, I lost track of him," Sarah says with a shrug, not seeming worried.

"Well, let me know if you need anything, sweetheart, but I think I’m going to turn in for the night. I'm not young enough to keep up with you and your friends."

"One more thing before you go. We need to discuss the budget for my wedding. I need to contact this wedding dress designer if I am going to get one of their dresses in time, but it is a fifty-thousand dollar deposit to hold my spot."

Not wanting to get into a conversation about wedding budgets when he desperately needs to find you, Joel tells Sarah, "Whatever you need, honey."

Sarah squeals her usual high-pitched, bird-scaring squeak, "Thank you! Thank you! Thank you!"

"We can discuss the details later," Joel says and walks back inside. He looks around and is relieved that the house seems to be empty, so he makes his way up to the second floor and your door.

He knocks quietly, but there is no response.

"Damn it," Joel says, fearing you are ignoring him on purpose.

He presses his ear to the door and hears running water, and he guesses that you are taking a bath. He wishes he could be in there with you, feeling your naked body against his. He sighs and pulls out a piece of gum, popping it in his mouth and pulling a pen out of the inside pocket of his jacket.

On the small bit of hope that you aren't ignoring him but simply can't hear him, Joel writes a note on the gum wrapper and slips it under your door.

I can't stop thinking about you or that kiss. I will find you tomorrow, so we can talk.

-J.

You wake up on top of the king-sized bed in your cotton robe, having apparently fallen asleep right after getting out of the tub the night before. You didn't even make it under the covers. Your stomach growls, prompting you to get up and pull yourself together.

After applying some light makeup, you select a strappy sundress from your new vacation wardrobe and head for the door. Your bare feet come into contact with a slip of paper someone has slid under your door at some point during the night. Even without recognizing the neat handwriting from his previous note, you know it's from Joel. You can't help but smile at the thought of being on his mind. You carefully place the note with the other and the small pink seashell before making your way down to the kitchen.

The house is completely silent; everyone is probably still in bed, nursing a hangover. You're glad that you'll get to spend the morning by yourself. It gives you plenty of time to wrap your head around your own feelings. You quietly navigate the kitchen and make yourself an omelet. It feels nice to fend for yourself for a meal rather than having it brought to you on a silver platter. While some aspects of this life are extremely appealing, there's something fulfilling about making your own meal. You plate the omelet and find a quiet spot on the patio to watch the waves as you enjoy your breakfast in silence. As you take the last bite, you hear a clatter of moving dishes behind you, signaling that others are up, so you leave your plate and walk towards the private beach. You've already explored your way down toward the gazebo, so you decide to venture in the opposite direction instead. The chirps of birds are your only company on your walk down the beach, and slowly the sand leads you to a secluded cove surrounded by pine trees and rocky ledges.

The water is still and so clear you can see the schools of brightly colored fish swimming beneath the surface. You wade into the water to your ankles, but on a whim, you take a quick look around to make sure you're alone before slipping the dress from your shoulders and throwing it onto the dry sand, followed by your lace bra and panties. You slip slowly under the water's surface, and the fish scatter around you. You swim lazily through the water, daydreaming about Joel. You can't wait to talk to him later, and hopefully to kiss him again.

"You're braver than you look."

You jump and move to cover yourself before realizing who it is. Joel stands on the beach watching you tread water, clearly enjoying the view.

"What are you doing here? I thought I was alone," you say, trying your best to hide yourself under the water.

"I saw footsteps in the sand on the beach; I assumed you would be the only one up already. So I took a chance and followed them. I didn't expect to find you like this, though," Joel says with a small laugh and a mischievous grin.

He turns around to give you privacy, likely thinking you'll get out of the water and get dressed. Instead, you swim up to where he stands at the edge of the water and splash him. He leaps forward and turns around again, a smile finding his lips.

"Are you going to be brave?" you taunt, not knowing what's gotten into you that day. You swim backward, daring him to come after you.

Joel slowly unbuttons his shirt and slips off his perfectly fitting shorts until he's standing there with nothing on but the wind at his back. You can't help but stare at him standing naked on the shore. He follows you into the water, although less gracefully.

"What did you want to talk about?" you ask as Joel stops a few feet from you, treading water. It's hard to keep your eyes on his face and not let them wander down to his manhood.

"I wanted to apologize for the way I ruined last night," Joel says.

"What do you mean ruined? I was just hoping everything was alright. I saw the worry on your face. Something big must have happened."

"Wow, I did not expect you to react that way. What do you mean you could see the worry on my face? Am I that transparent?"

"No, I don't think you are transparent. I just noticed the crease you get between your eyebrows when you're worried. You got the same one when you were asking me about my past with…" You trail off, not wanting to bring up your ex at this moment. Joel takes the cue and does not push the matter any further, gracefully changing the subject.

"I'm glad I didn't ruin everything," Joel says softly, looking at you. He looks at you with unadulterated desire.

"Why is that?" you ask.

"Because if I did, I wouldn't be able to kiss you again."

Joel smiles and inches closer to you in the water. You can't help but notice his eyes roaming up and down your body.

"Should we, though?"

"Do you have a reason we shouldn't?" Joel asks, the crease between his eyebrows appearing again. He stops just short of touching you, but you feel like you can still feel him. The current between you is electric.

"What about Sarah?" you say, trying to keep control of yourself. Just being this close to him, naked, makes you feel breathless and excited.

“You only need to worry about what you want. It shouldn't matter to Sarah what happens between us, and if it does, I will handle it."

You take a deep breath and look at Joel's questioning eyes. You know he's right. You always worry more about other people's happiness than your own. At some point, you're going to have to choose you. Aubrey and Lin have sent so many text messages telling you to go for it with Joel. They obviously don't think it's a problem to date Sarah's dad. So why should you?

"I want you to kiss me again," you say shyly. "I want… more. I want you."

Joel closes the distance between you and pulls you into him. Your naked bodies connect under the water, and the smoothness of your skin together electrifies the water around you. The softness from the kiss the night before has all but faded into the passionate urgency of your kisses in the water. You wrap your legs around his waist, loving the way your bare bodies feel against each other.

Joel moves from kissing your mouth to kissing down your neck. You can feel his desire, hard against your leg, and you can't deny that you want him just as badly.

"Are you sure you want this?" Joel pants between kisses on your neck, moving back up toward your mouth.

"Yes, Joel, don't stop." you moan in a breathless whisper.

"Do you still want more?" His voice catches in his throat, and you can hear the longing in each word.

"Yes," you whisper into Joel's ear before biting it gently.

Just as you start to feel him slipping inside you, a tree branch cracks, snapping your attention to a man holding a camera pointed directly at you. You grab onto Joel and say urgently, "Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!"

Joel turns his head, clearly seeing the man with the camera. "Shit! Stay behind me. I'll get you out of this."

Joel uses his body to cover yours, and you bury your face into his neck, praying the man hasn't already gotten a picture of your face. Joel swims for a group of rocks, hiding you both behind them.

"You stay right here, and I will go handle this," Joel says.

You latch onto one of the rocks, and Joel, sliding on his shorts, takes off in the cameraman's direction. They both disappear from your view in the dense vegetation and palm trees. Hot tears stream down your face, mixing with the salt water. You swim over to the beach and slip your dress back on before the cameraman can return. The fabric clings to your still-wet body, a feeling you absolutely hate. However, the feeling of safety the dress brings you is worth being uncomfortable. How could you have forgotten that Joel is not only your friend's dad but he is also, in his own right, a famous businessman? It's easy to forget that the man is worth billions because he is so kind and generous, especially toward you. As your heart slows, your stomach rolls with dread. That man was likely with a magazine that would publish those pictures for the entire world to see. Pictures of you about to have sex with Sarah's dad. You can already imagine the headlines and articles that would follow the scandalous pictures. There would be no way to face Sarah after she saw pictures of you naked and kissing her father. If your identity got out, you could possibly lose your spot at Harvard, and you could kiss the job at the law firm goodbye too.

You finish getting dressed and then walk back to the mansion on your own, knowing you can't face Joel after the trouble you've just caused. You'll lock yourself in your room until you can sneak away to your flight tomorrow.

You keep looking over your shoulder and scanning the surrounding areas for people as you walk back. Once in your room, you lean your back against the door. You and Joel had almost had sex. You smile to yourself, no longer trying to deny how good he makes you feel. The thought of facing him after this scares you, but you desperately want to finish what you've started. You slide your dress off and get in the shower to wash off the sand, then snuggle into the robe Joel gave you, drinking in his scent. You just wish things could have ended differently between Joel and you. If that was the only time you were ever going to be in his arms, you don't want it to be tainted by the intruder with the camera. You want to remember the two of you together, wrapped in each other's arms, focusing on how amazing you make each other feel. Hot tears slide down your cheeks. You'd known this was a bad idea, that you shouldn't get involved with your friend's dad, even if Sarah wasn't the nicest person, even if she was unknowingly marrying your ex.

Going home can't erase what you've already done, but it can prevent anything worse from happening. You'll miss Joel, but leaving is for the best. You know that now - for certain.

Your eyes burn from all the crying you did the night before. You've spent the whole day in your room, and you've barely slept, worrying about how many magazines will have the picture of you and Joel on the cover tomorrow and thinking about your decision to leave. You just hope you'll be able to make it home before the media catches hold of the story. You want to be as far away from Sarah as possible when she gets ahold of the picture.

You text Lin, telling her to confirm the flight for the next day, and you wonder how you'll even get there. Flying commercial means you can't use the private airstrip. Maybe Reggie will be able to help you. Or Brenna. Now more than ever, you want to escape this vacation. You've gone to the bathroom and started the shower, filling the room with steam, when you hear urgent knocking on your door. Your heart sinks, knowing Joel would never knock so frantically on your door; the only other person it could be is Sarah. She must have already seen the picture. You turn off the shower and wrap yourself in your robe before taking your death march to the door. You swing it open to find Sarah standing there with mascara-stained tears running down each cheek.

"Hey," Sarah sobs and cups her mouth with one of her hands.

"Sarah, I am…" But before you can start apologizing, Sarah wraps you in a hug and starts crying into your shoulder. You stand there, stunned and confused.

You figure Sarah has come up here to kick you out of her father's house and end your friendship. After a few seconds, you wrap your arms around her and pat her back.

"Sarah, what is going on?" you ask, still confused but selfishly relieved.

"I caught Todd with another woman last night!" Sarah gasps, her body shaking with sobs.

"Oh, Sarah," you say in a sympathetic tone. You want to call Todd every horrible name you can think of, but you know that won't help right now. That comes later in the breakup, as you're all too familiar with because of Todd.

You pull back from Sarah, and with your arm around her shoulder, lead her to one of the small couches in the room's sitting area. You pull out your phone and send a quick text to the maid, Brenna.

You: SOS! Sarah is having a breakdown in my room. Could you have someone send up some coffee (for me) and tissues (for Sarah)?

Brenna: On it! I'll be there soon. Hang in there.

"Who are you texting? I need your undivided attention right now!" Sarah says, shooting you a dirty look.

"I texted one of the maids; I'm having her bring up some stuff for you," you say, trying to stay calm at Sarah's outburst at you. It's probably just because she's so upset.

"Oh, that's fine, I guess."

"Sarah, tell me what happened," you say.

"Last night, Todd didn't come back to our room. I was worried about him, so I started looking through the entire house for him. I couldn't find him anywhere, so I went outside, figuring he might have gone for a walk on the beach to calm down after our fight."

"What did you two fight about?"

"Well, the first day we got here, I picked up his phone while he was in the shower, and he had a text from an unknown number. The text said, 'I miss you.'"

"Sarah, that could have been from someone in his family," you say. You can't believe you're standing up for Todd. You know exactly the kind of man he is, but seeing Sarah so upset makes you want to protect her feelings.

"That's what I figured until he got out of the shower. He saw me holding his phone and got super defensive about it. Last night, I brought it up again because we never actually got to the bottom of it because he distracted me by biting my…"

"Anyway!" you interrupt, not wanting to hear where that story is going to go.

"Anyway, we fought about it again last night. He told me I was being paranoid," Sarah says with a big sniff.

Just in time, a knock sounds on your door, and you rush to get it. Brenna carries in a tray with a pot of coffee, two mugs, some expensive-looking tissues, and a box of chocolates. That Brenna is a smart one. You quietly thank her, and she nods, smiling at you as if to say, 'good luck.' You hand Sarah a tissue, and she dabs at her dripping nose.

"I'm sorry. Look at me; I'm a mess."

"Don't worry about it, Sarah; we can get you cleaned up after you feel better."

You pour a cup of coffee and hand it to Sarah. "What did you say when he told you you were being paranoid?" you ask.

"I told him I had every right to be paranoid with the way he was acting, but then I took it too far and said I should have known he would cheat again."

"What?!" You're about to take a sip of your own coffee, but you hold it frozen in midair.

"Oh, he hasn't cheated on me before," Sarah says, not understanding why her statement shocks you.

"He had some girlfriend when we met, and it took him a while after we started sleeping together for him to end it finally. Anyway, so I went outside to look for him and found him rolling around in the sand with some girl."

"You can't be serious," you say, and the edges of your vision turn red.

"I am serious; I was horrified. She wasn't even that pretty! You could totally tell her boobs were fake."

"No, Sarah, not that, you knew he had a girlfriend, and you hooked up with him anyway?"

"I am not the bad guy here; that slut on the beach is! Whose friend are you anyway?" Sarah says angrily.

"I thought you were my friend, Sarah." The words are coming out of your mouth before you can stop them. "It was me that Todd was cheating on!" you yell, letting the secret finally slip out.

Sarah stares at you in disbelief and then starts laughing. "Todd would never date someone like you," she says, still giggling through her tears.

It seems like she really thinks you're telling a joke, but her responding by putting you down is infuriating. "What the hell is that supposed to mean, Sarah? We dated for three years, so he must have been attracted to me at one point," you say defensively.

"I know you are trying to cheer me up, girl, but I need real advice right now, not just laughs."

"I am not lying to you, Sarah," you say and pull out your phone, swiping through countless pictures of Todd and you when you were happy, or at least when you thought you were happy. You show Sarah a picture of Todd and you at a coffee shop in New York, and Todd is kissing you on the cheek.

"Oh, my God -"

"I told you, Sarah, we really did date for three years. Todd is a cheater. Trust me, I know breakups are hard, but you are going to be so much better off without him."

"I never said anything about breaking up with him," Sarah says. You're surprised that she's now the one being defensive.

"Sarah, you just caught him fucking with another woman, and you're going to stay with him."

"I am not leaving him for a little slip-up," she responds. Your mouth drops open. You can't believe that she considers cheating just a slip-up. "I can't believe Todd would stoop so low." Sarah stands and looks out the windows after glancing at you with contempt.

"Exactly what I was saying. He isn't worth it." You say, relieved that Sarah is coming around.

"No, I can't believe he stooped so low by dating you. He is completely out of your league." Sarah turns to look at you; anger etched in her features.

"Ouch, Sarah. I know you’re hurting, but I am just trying to help. You don't have to take your anger at Todd out on me," you say.

"Well, you're not helping. You are a complete embarrassment. I don't need a reminder of my fiance's poor judgment hanging around. I think it would be best if you left. You've been such a bummer the whole time anyway."

"Get out of my room," you say in a low voice. It takes everything you have not to scream at her. Your hands are trembling with anger.

"This is my dad's house. You are the one who needs to leave," she crosses her arms as though she's planning on waiting for you to pack your bags.

You stand up and glare daggers at her. "Get the fuck out of my room!"

"Fine, but I want you gone. I don't want to see you ever again!" Sarah quickly makes her way across the room.

"The feeling is mutual!" you shout, and Sarah slams the door closed. The tears start flowing again. You've cried on this trip more than you have in your entire college career, except for maybe when Todd first cheated on you, and that was really saying something. You're going to need some serious therapy for what was supposed to be a relaxing vacation.

You go back to the shower and let the water wash away the tears. You get out and are surprised that Sarah has not sent her mother upstairs to attempt to kick you out. You throw on a pair of jeans and a black T-shirt. Then, you wheel your suitcase out of the closet and throw it onto your bed. With a lack of energy, you shove everything you have with you into the empty container haphazardly.

You take one last look around the beautiful bedroom and out at the amazing view of the ocean. It's a shame that you didn't get to enjoy the balcony off of your bedroom. This entire vacation ended up being more trouble than it was worth, except for Joel. You would have done it all over again, just to spend more time with him.

You slip his two notes into your back pocket and hold the little pink shell in your palm, not wanting to let go. Not wanting to let Joel go. You set the little pink shell back on the nightstand. You hope he'll find it and know what he meant to you on this trip.

The wheels of your suitcase get stuck in the gravel at the end of the driveway. You sigh and pull harder, having no idea how you're going to get to the airport from here. The suitcase is too heavy; it's crammed full of all the clothes Joel bought for you.

You realize you haven't thought your escape plan through. You didn't want to do the messy goodbyes with anyone in the house, and you figured you would be able to find a taxi eventually, but your first priority is to get as far away from the mansion as possible.

However, it seems you're going to be stuck at the end of the driveway forever.

The crunching gravel surprises you, and you turn around; just as a black Cadillac pulls up in front of you. The window rolls down, and you're relieved to see Reggie sitting in the driver's seat.

“What are you doing?” Reggie asks you as he takes off his sunglasses. He looks so confused at you standing there, suitcase stuck in the rocks.

“Um. I'm trying to get to the airport. I have a flight in a couple of hours,” you say, shrugging your shoulders. You don't want to tell him the truth, but you figure it's better to be upfront with him. Besides, he's one of the few people at the house you know for certain you can trust. And he obviously has a car.

“Did you plan on walking all the way there?” he asks through the window.

“Maybe not my best idea,” you say and look back at the mansion. You hope no one is watching. You have to have the record for the worst escape attempt. “I was hoping to catch a cab or something, but I'm guessing this isn't the best place for that.” You look around and don't see or hear another vehicle.

Reggie gets out of the car and comes around to you. He grabs your bag without another word and puts it in the trunk. He returns to open the passenger door for you. “Well, I'm not letting you walk. Get in; I'll drive you,” Reggie says with a crestfallen smile.

You hesitate, not sure what his expression is meant to convey. Should you just try your luck with a cab after all?

Seeing your lack of commitment, Reggie grabs your hand to help you into the car. Finally accepting the situation, you slide into the passenger seat and feel your body sink into the expensive leather. You're starting to understand how people could get used to this amount of luxury in their daily lives. But you can't get used to it–you're leaving. Who knows when you might experience this type of lifestyle again? Not until you earn it for yourself as a lawyer, most likely.

Reggie closes the door behind you and returns to the driver's side, and starts down the narrow, winding driveway. You can't help but look back for one last time at the colonial-style mansion. In a few days, you're sure it will feel like a dream that you were ever here at all. “Why didn't you just ask for a ride to the airport? Joel would have sent for a car; he probably would have even driven you himself.” Reggie's tone is more questioning than it would've been if he didn't have a hint that something was going on between Joel and you.

“I didn't want to bother anyone.” That's the truth–more or less.

“You couldn't possibly bother anyone.”

You sit in silence as you pass rows of beautiful mansions along the shore. You keep seeing Reggie glance at you out of the corner of his eye. You know he's wondering why you're leaving so hastily. As you drive further inland, the mansions get smaller and smaller until they turn into charming bungalows. Each bungalow is painted in a pop of color.

“When you say you didn't want to bother anyone, you really meant you didn't want to say goodbye, didn't you?”

“How did you know?” you ask, surprised he's picked up on that.

“You seem upset, and the fact that you were so ready to leave that you were going to drag your suitcase all the way to the airport. I just put two and two together.”

“You're right; I didn't want to say goodbye.”

“Do you want to talk about it?” Reggie asks, looking over at you directly this time as you come to a stop at an intersection.

“Not really. Sarah and I just got into a fight. She told me she wanted me out of the house.”

“Oh, I thought it might have something to do with you and Joel,” Reggie says as the car accelerates again.

You don't know how to respond to Reggie, so you opt to say nothing instead. The truth is, you don't know how to say goodbye to Joel after all that's happened. How do you thank someone for a beautiful vacation, stolen moments of happiness, and a whirlwind romance while also apologizing for causing a scandal? You ride the rest of the short drive without talking more. You're thankful that Reggie doesn't press you for more answers. And you find you can't stop daydreaming about Joel. You want to kiss him again and finish what you'd started in the water that day. You know you shouldn't, and that you probably won't get the chance. But that doesn't stop the longing one bit.

You pull up to the airport, which is tiny. You guessed you should have expected it to be small, considering you're on an island. Reggie gets out and gets your bag for you. You stand awkwardly on the sidewalk next to the car. “Thank you for driving me, and thank you for being a friend to me,” you say as Reggie hands you the handle of your bag.

“I hope you really mean that. I would consider myself lucky to be counted as one of your friends.”

You lean over and give Reggie a small hug, “I really mean it, Reggie.”

He grabs your hand before you pull away, leaving a business card in your palm. “Please reach out if you need anything from me. We will all be back in New York again in a few weeks. I would love to see you when we make it back,” he says, with a puppy dog look in his eyes.

You nod and put Reggie's business card in your back pocket, next to Joel's notes. You give Reggie a small wave and turn away from him as you walk into the airport. Why couldn't you have fallen for someone like Reggie? That would have made the whole trip a lot less complicated.

After going through security, you look at the time on your phone; you have a whole hour to fill before your flight leaves, and there isn't much to do in such a tiny airport. You slip a crumpled bill into the vending machine and select a lemon-lime soda. It isn't quite the same as getting a latte from an airport cafe, but it will have to do. You select a hard plastic chair next to the terminal and pull out your phone to wait.

You: I made it to the airport! It is absolutely tiny. I have about an hour until my flight leaves, and then three more on the plane. I can't wait to be back home.

Lin: I will be there to pick you up when you land.

Aubrey: We can't wait to see you!

You: I owe you both so much for this. I am taking you two out for drinks as soon as I sleep off this nightmare of a vacation.

Lin: You could pay me back by packing the rest of my stuff in the apartment.

You: Lin, we are moving in less than two weeks! Get on it!

Aubrey: I have been telling her that the entire time you've been gone, but she decided that binging rom-coms is a better use of her time.

Lin: I still think my logic is sound.

You: Save some of those rom-coms for when I get back. I need something to ball my eyes out over.

Aubrey: What happened with Joel? Did things end badly?

You: Beyond badly. I don't want to get into it over text, so I will tell you both all about it when I land.

Lin: I am so sorry girl. I'll make a stop for some ice cream before I come to get you.

Aubrey: Does this require more than ice cream? Maybe Margaritas?

You: I love you two so much! I can't wait to see you. It looks like they are finally going to let me board the plane. I will see you both soon.

You hand the flight attendant your ticket, and she directs you to your seat. You get settled in by the window and gaze out at the scene of swaying palm trees and the blue ocean in the distance. Part of you wishes you could have stayed and enjoyed a few more days in this gorgeous place. You likely wouldn't have the time or money to come back in a long time.

Your phone vibrates against the seat; you expect a last-minute text from Lin or Aubrey, but an unknown number flashes across your screen. Is it Joel? Has he finally found out you left without saying a proper goodbye? You open the message to find the picture of Joel and you in the cove. Your heart stops beating against your chest. You zoom in and are slightly relieved that your face is more than half covered by your hair. It would be hard for someone who didn't know you to find your identity with this picture. However, anyone who was with you on the yacht would know exactly whose vibrant-colored hair was in the picture. Sarah would know immediately what had happened, well, technically almost happened, between her dad and you.

“Ma'am, I am going to have to ask you to turn your phone off for the duration of the flight,” the flight attendant says as she walks down the center aisle.

“Of course,” you respond in a shaky voice.

You hold the power button and watch the screen go black, taking the picture into blackness. You wish it would disappear altogether, but you know it will be there as soon as you turn your phone back on.

“Is this your first time flying?” the flight attendant asks. She must have mistaken your shock for a fear of flying.

“Yes,” you offer meekly, not wanting to explain.

“Well, don't worry. Everything will be okay. We will be back on the ground before you know it.”

“Everything will not be okay,” you mumble as she walks away.

—

Joel rolls over in bed; the glare of the sun from the window streams across his face, pulling him from some much-needed sleep. He can't stop thinking about what had happened with you on the beach. He wants to talk to you, to see if you're okay, but he hasn't seen you since the incident. His mind goes over it, reliving every aspect in vivid color....

"Joel, there's a man taking pictures of us!" you had squealed.

He had turned his head, and sure enough, a man was standing on the rocky outcrop hanging over the cove. "Shit! Stay behind me, you. I'll get you out of this," he had said, protectively shifting your body behind his. You had buried your face in his neck, and he could feel your nervous heartbeat against his chest. He had been so foolish to pull you into this mess. He knew instinctively that this was Blaine's doing.

He should have accepted the extra security when Bruce suggested it.

He had swum for a group of rocks as fast as he could. His summer spent in the ocean made him a stronger swimmer than usual, thankfully. He had reached for the rocks and strategically placed you behind them, out of the cameraman's view. He could see the fear on your face as you grabbed onto one of the smaller rocks. "You stay right here, and I will go handle this," he had said. You had nodded weakly at him, and he had swum hard for the beach.

He had looked up and saw the photographer frantically packing up his tripod and camera equipment. Had he been waiting for them? How could he have possibly known about this secluded spot? He must have been following him and set up his equipment after watching him strip down on the beach. He had grabbed his clothes and made a beeline for the thick vegetation below the man. He had thrown on his clothes haphazardly before starting to climb up the rocks. Once he had reached the top, the dust was barely settling. The man must have run for it when he realized Joel was coming after him. He had debated on going back for you, but he figured he was not far behind the photographer. He could do more damage control if he caught up with him. Men are easily persuaded by money, and he knew with a big enough bribe, he could buy the pictures back. The only problem was he would have had to find the man first. The man's footprints had been plain to see in the sandy earth, so he had taken off running after him. Eventually, the sand had faded into a dirt road. He had been scared he'd lost him when he noticed fresh tire tracks in the dirt; the guy must have taken off fast to leave such obvious divots in the ground. He had followed the tire tracks, but when the dirt connected with the main road, he had lost him. Not ready to give up, he had spent hours searching the surrounding area and asking the few people he had run into if they had seen someone speed out of the area. He had gotten nothing. The guy was a ghost.

When he had returned to the cove, it was illuminated by the stars, and you were long gone. He had returned to the house well after dark; he hadn't wanted to wake you up, so he had returned to his own room, where he showered off the mud and the grime. As soon as he hit the bed, he had fallen into a deep sleep, completely exhausted from the unsuccessful chase. His body still feels sluggish this morning, but he forces himself to get up; he needs to check on you to make sure you're alright. He doesn't know how he's going to break it to you that he hadn't been able to track down the man with the camera.

He grabs his phone off of the nightstand, surprised to see that he has slept late into the afternoon. He has several messages and emails that need his attention. He opens his messages and has an image from an unknown number; he already knows the picture he will see before he opens it. But he opens it anyway. He has to see exactly how bad the situation is. He is relieved that your face is covered by your hair and that you are hidden behind his body. That will help protect you. He can handle a little public scrutiny, but it could be career-ending for you if the public got ahold of your name. He types out a quick message, seething with every letter he types into the phone.

Joel: What the fuck do you want?

Unknown: One million or this picture will be sent to every gossip tabloid.

Joel: Do you really want to play that game with me? I know it is you, Blaine. You are going down a very dangerous path.

Unknown: I need the money, or the picture will be leaked at midnight. I think it is you that is playing a dangerous game, Joel.

Joel: Leak the picture, Blaine. You are not worth my time.

Unknown: Are you willing to risk your reputation over a measly million dollars?

Joel: I can take a little hit on my reputation. If I give you what you want, you will just come back for more. That is the nature of leeches.

Unknown: If I am a leech, what does that make you? You think about no one but yourself, but what about the girl? Can she handle the scandal? What will it do to her life?

Joel: Even the FBI wouldn't be able to figure out her identity from this picture. Maybe next time, you should splurge on a better photographer. It is amazing to me that you can't even get blackmail right.

Unknown: I know exactly who the girl is. My guess is that I know more about her than you do. How else would I know that she left on a plane earlier today? She must be so ready to be back at home. I guess she wanted to be as far away from you as possible before the picture is leaked.

Joel: You know nothing.

Unknown: Play tough all you want Joel, but those you care about will be the ones to get hurt. Get me the money, or else.

He slams his phone back down on the nightstand. There is no way Blaine knows who you are, but a sinking pit in his stomach makes him rush from his room and up the stairs. The walk to your room seems longer than ever before. He just needs to see your face.

When he gets to your room, the door stands open. His stomach drops; the room is empty… You are nowhere in sight, the bed is made, and the room looks barren despite the perfectly styled decor. He rushes into the bathroom, hoping to find some sign that you haven't really left, only to find it empty as well. The closet is also empty of all of your clothing, and your suitcase is gone.

You truly have left.

He sinks onto your empty bed, his head in his hands, trying to accept the situation and figure out what he had done wrong. He glances over to the nightstand and realizes you have left something, possibly on purpose. The only thing left in the room is a small pink shell set on your bedside table. He picks it up, rubbing the smooth side against his thumb. Where had you picked this up? It must have been significant enough that you felt the need to keep it. He slips the small shell into his pocket. He should have gone after you instead of the guy taking pictures, but now he can't help but wonder if you even wanted him to.

“Sir?"

The voice shakes him from his thoughts, drawing him back to reality. Reggie is standing in the doorway, a somber expression on his face as he rocks gently from side to side, as if contemplating how to tell him something.

“Yes, Reggie? Is there something I can do for you?" His voice sounds exhausted even to his own ear. He hopes that whatever Reggie has to say doesn't have anything to do with work. That is the last thing on his mind at the moment.

“No, I was actually coming to tell you I just got back from dropping her off at the airport. I ran into her when I was driving back from picking up a few things at the store for the chefs this morning. She was dragging her suitcase through the gravel at the end of the drive."

His heart crumbles again at hearing the confirmation that you are really gone. You've left–without a word. “Thank you for making sure she got to the airport. Did she say why she was leaving?"

“She didn't give me much detail. She looked really upset, though. She mentioned fighting with Sarah. I have no idea what they fought about, but a couple of the maids said they heard Sarah screaming at someone early this morning. No one really thought much of it; they just figured she was yelling at a member of the staff."

It certainly wouldn't be unusual for Sarah to scream at a staff member–or her friend for that matter. “That girl needs a reality check," he says with a loud sigh.

He truly is embarrassed to find out that his daughter had yelled at his staff members so frequently that it was considered perfectly normal. He will have to rein her in before she does some real damage. He also needs to find out what she had said to you to make you leave. He suddenly feels exhausted at the thought of having to confront his daughter. Getting blackmailed by his deranged, bastard half-brother is enough for one day.

“Thank you, Reggie. Will you call my housekeeper at the New York home and let her know to prepare for my arrival please?"

Reggie raises his eyebrows slightly but then nods. “Of course, sir. When should I tell her we will arrive?"

“Tell her we will be there tomorrow. I don't want to stay here any longer than I have to." His mind is made up, which does make him feel slightly better about the situation.

Reggie nods and leaves him alone with his thoughts.

So you really did leave. The fact that Blaine knew you left means he was having you followed. If he went to see you, he would lead Blaine right to you. His only option is to act as though you didn't matter to him. The only way to keep you safe is to keep his distance. He wouldn't go after you. Not until after he tracked Blaine down.

—

"You need to tell him," Aubrey insists, her arms folded firmly across her chest. Ever since she learned about the blackmail, she's been your guardian angel, fiercely protective.

"But we're both in that photo," you protest, the heat rising to your cheeks as you recall the day. "I was the one who stripped down and dove into the water first. I have no idea what came over me. Joel showed up, and before I knew it, I was daring him to join me. We got... carried away."

Lin's eyes narrow with a playful grin. "Are you blushing? What do you mean by 'carried away'?" she pries, her curiosity piqued.

You chuckle nervously, the memory flooding back. "Well, I haven't told you this, but we almost went all the way in the water that day." It's time to come clean with your friends.

"Oh my god, you're just spilling this now?" Lin exclaims, her excitement bubbling over.

"I've been trying to push it out of my mind, but I can't stop thinking about Joel," you confess, your thoughts drifting to him despite your best efforts.

Aubrey swats Lin's arm, a reminder of the gravity of the situation. "This is serious, Lin. It's not the time for jokes."

"I just don't get why he hasn't sent a security team or something! He's loaded, right? He needs to step up and take responsibility," you say, still shaken from being tailed by a mysterious man from your gym – likely the same one behind the blackmail.

"He has just as much at stake as I do," you add, collapsing onto the worn-out sofa, the weight of the situation pressing down on you.

You're still catching your breath from the encounter, wondering if giving in would only make things worse for Joel. Who could be so intent on hurting him that they'd resort to blackmail and stalking?

"Does he, though? He's got his fortune to shield him," Aubrey counters.

"He might not even know what's happening," you say in Joel's defense.

"Then you need to fill him in," Lin interjects, her tone firm.

"I know I do, but I'm not sure how to reach out to him," you admit. You wish you could just call him, arrange to meet somewhere in the city. But you never got his number, figuring you'd never need it – he was always just a short walk away. And now, it's too late.

"Could you ask Sarah for his number?" Aubrey suggests.

"Even if I wanted to talk to her after our huge fight, I doubt she'd respond," you say, the bridge between you and Sarah burnt to ashes.

Lin, ever the problem-solver, pulls out her phone and quickly types away. Moments later, she hands it to you, displaying a picture of a towering skyscraper with a New York address.

"This is his office. Just go in and talk to him," Lin urges, her eyes gleaming with mischief. "Also, I can't resist – was he a good kisser?"

Aubrey laughs, smacking Lin on the shoulder, while your smile and the telltale blush give away your answer.

—

The Express Air building looms over you, an imposing figure against the city skyline. You watch as men and women in sharp suits hurry in and out of the grand entrance, their importance echoing in the rhythm of their steps. Inside, the opulence of white marble floors and black elevators leaves you feeling out of place. The lobby buzzes with the sound of stilettos and the murmur of conversations, all bouncing off the high ceilings in a symphony of business.

You quickly retreat to the far side of the lobby, where a black letterboard announces Joel's office on the top floor. The elevator button glows under your touch, the wait for the doors to open feeling like an eternity. The elevator fills, and you try to blend into the background, your heart pounding as you ascend. When the last of your fellow passengers disembark, you finally breathe, rehearsing your speech to Joel in your head. Despite the dire news you carry, there's a flicker of excitement at the thought of seeing him again. You hope he'll forgive your sudden departure – without an explanation, without a goodbye. Perhaps he's missed you as much as you've missed him. The elevator dings, signaling your arrival. You step out with newfound confidence, only to have it crushed by the receptionist's icy gaze.

"Are you lost?" she asks, her tone dripping with condescension. She's the epitome of a high-fashion model, her tight black dress clinging to her like a second skin.

You approach her desk, trying to maintain your composure. "I'm here to see Mr. Miller. Is he available?"

Her cold smile sends a chill down your spine. "Desperate women come up here all the time, hoping to catch a glimpse of Mr. Miller. At least they dress the part. You, on the other hand..."

You bristle at her words but press on. "I've met Mr. Miller before. It's urgent that I speak with him."

She rolls her eyes, the picture of impatience. "If you knew him, you'd have an appointment. Mr. Miller's schedule is booked for months. I can't let just anyone see him without one. It's how we keep out the crazies." Her gaze rakes over you, the unspoken implication hanging in the air.

You take a deep breath, steadying your voice. "Please, this is time-sensitive. I really need to see him today."

"It's always 'time-sensitive,'" she mocks, turning back to her computer. "I can call security if you can't find your way out."

Your hands clench into fists, the anger threatening to spill over. But you know losing your temper will only hasten your exit.

"May I leave a note for him, then? It'll be his choice to respond," you say, the words barely above a whisper.

With an exaggerated sigh, she slides a piece of notepaper and a pen toward you. You scribble a quick message, careful not to reveal too much:

Joel, I'm being contacted about our swim in the cove. We need to talk.

You add your name and number, then hesitate before adding a postscript in tiny letters.

P.S. I'm sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You slide the note back to her, your heart sinking as you press the elevator call button. When you glance back, the receptionist is watching you, a smug smile playing on her lips. You rush out of the building, head down, the paranoia of being watched still gnawing at you. You can only hope the receptionist will deliver your message to Joel. For all you know, it could be lining a trash can by now. As the elevator descends and you step back onto the street, you're left with a sense of helplessness. What will you do if Joel doesn't reach out soon?

—

"Bruce, please tell me you have some good news," Joel says into his phone.

He walks out onto the balcony of his penthouse, taking in the New York skyline. The city's energy is palpable, but after Blaine's attempts at blackmail, the presence of his security team is a constant reminder of the danger lurking in the shadows. His penthouse, a sanctuary of solitude, is one of the few places where he can find a moment's peace, though even here, the security team maintains a vigilant watch from the lobby below.

"I am afraid it is not good news, sir. We have reason to believe that Blaine is indeed back in New York. What is surprising is that my security team followed him into a neighborhood far from both your penthouse and your offices," Bruce informs him.

Instantly, Joel's thoughts leap to you. The only logical explanation is that Blaine is attempting to use you to get in contact with him. "Shit," he mutters under his breath.

"Do you know where he would be headed, sir?" Bruce inquires.

"I believe he is trying to use a woman to get to me," Joel says, giving Bruce your name. "She was on the yacht with us for part of the vacation. We became involved, and she got caught in Blaine's crossfire."

"Is she the one in the picture?"

"Yes, she is, Bruce. I’ve been trying to find a way to contact her for the past week with no luck. She likely wants nothing to do with me after getting caught up in this mess. However, I would like to have some of the team watching out for her. Would you let me know if you can find her most recent address or a way for me to contact her?"

Joel has reached out to you multiple times over social media, the only link he has to you, but each message has gone unanswered. He isn't sure if you're purposely avoiding responding to them or if you just haven't seen them. You are the complete opposite of his daughter, who lives her entire life on social media.

"Of course. I will let you know when I find something, sir," Bruce assures him.

"Thank you, Bruce. I don't know what I would do without you having my back," Joel expresses, knowing full well that Bruce is not one for effusive praise.

Bruce offers a small cough of acknowledgment, and the line goes dead. Bruce doesn't know how to take compliments well, but Joel wants him to understand how much he values him, even if it makes him uncomfortable to hear it. A knock sounds on Joel's door just as he steps back inside from the balcony. He opens it reluctantly, already mourning the loss of his solitude as Marnie, his ex, barges in uninvited.

"Marnie, what are you doing here?" he asks, though he knows the answer will likely disrupt the calm he's sought.

"I needed to go over the budget for Sarah's wedding before I start finalizing the plans," she says, making herself at home on his brown leather sofa.

He takes a seat across from her, the tension already building as he rubs his temples. Dealing with Marnie, especially when it comes to money, is a surefire way to trigger a migraine. "Just let me know what my portion of the wedding is, and I will pay for it. I am not in the mood to discuss the cost of linen tablecloths and reams of silk with you," he says, closing his eyes in an attempt to ward off the impending headache. As he continues to rub his temples, he hopes she'll take the hint and leave. But Marnie is nothing if not persistent, especially when she's on the hunt for more funds. He often reflects on how lucky he was that her late husband dealt with her more frequently than he ever had to.

"Well, you are in a mood, aren't you? I figured you would want to have more involvement in your only daughter's wedding," she says with a dramatic sigh.

"I already said I would pay my share of whatever Sarah wants. She doesn't want my opinion on the actual details of the wedding, and neither do you," he retorts, weary of the conversation.

"Well, that is fair enough," she concedes with another sigh, as if the weight of the world rests on her shoulders.

He lets the silence hang in the air, a temporary respite from the inevitable conflict. But his patience wears thin, and he finally breaks the silence. "Was there something else you wanted to discuss, Marnie?"

"Well, now that you ask, yes, there is a small matter I wanted to discuss with you," she says, her eyes gleaming with anticipation.

He sits up, bracing himself for whatever she's about to drop on him. Of course, she doesn't get straight to the point, and he's forced to coax it out of her. "And what is the small matter?" he asks, trying to keep the irritation from his voice.

"Sarah's trust."

"Yes? As we have already discussed, Sarah has a trust set up by the Miller family," he says, already dreading where this conversation is headed.

Marnie has a history of making poor financial decisions, so he's been meticulous in setting up Sarah's trust to prevent her from accessing it prematurely. He's always held out hope that Sarah would mature and learn to manage her finances responsibly. But deep down, he knows that's probably just wishful thinking.

"Well, since she is getting married, I think she would benefit from receiving it now," Marnie says with a confidence that worries him.

"The trust is set up so that she won’t be able to access the funds until she turns twenty-five," he says firmly, having had similar discussions with her in the past.

"She has to wait until she is twenty-five to receive what is rightfully hers?" Marnie asks, as if this is news to her.

"Yes, that’s how the trust is structured. That way, she's mature enough to handle that amount of money," he explains, though he knows Marnie is more interested in the money than in Sarah's maturity.

"That is all fine in theory, but that puts her in a difficult position right now," she continues, her voice tinged with a sense of urgency.

"How so? Todd seems fully capable of supporting her. He has a good standing in his father's company," he responds, already sensing where this is going.

"That is true, but I was just talking with Todd, and he had his eye on a penthouse on the upper east side that is a bit out of his price range. It would be the perfect starter home for them, and I would hate to see them deprived."

Alarm bells ring in his head as soon as Marnie mentions Todd. The man has his sights set on Sarah's trust fund before they're even married. Given how Todd has treated you, Joel can't say he's surprised. "I see. Does Sarah know about this penthouse?" he asks, already suspecting the answer.

"Of course not. Todd wants to surprise her with it as a wedding gift," she says, as if the idea of a surprise penthouse is perfectly reasonable.

"I will change the terms of Sarah's trust fund on one condition," he says, looking Marnie directly in the eyes to convey the seriousness of his words.

"What is that?" she asks, her eyes widening with hope.

"Todd signs a prenup. Everything that Sarah pays for will remain in Sarah's name alone. He will not have access to any of her trust fund money."

"You are being ridiculous, Joel. A healthy marriage can't operate like a business transaction."

"Those are my terms. If Todd doesn't like it, they don't have to get married at all," he states with finality.

"You would really take away your daughter's one chance at happiness over something as trivial as money?!" Marnie screeches, her true colors shining through.

He can't help but find it ironic that she calls money trivial, given how often she comes to him for financial help. "If money is so trivial, then Todd should have no problem signing a prenup," he counters.

He has serious doubts that Todd is Sarah's one chance at happiness. In fact, the more he gets to know Todd, the more he's convinced that Todd will only bring Sarah misery. He would have liked to discuss this with Sarah, but he knows that once she sets her mind on something, there's no changing it.

"I can't believe you would be so selfish! You are going to ruin the surprise of the penthouse completely, and that will cast a horrible shadow over the entire wedding. You are going to ruin everything for Sarah. She has had enough to deal with in her life by losing one father figure. Now you are going to break her heart all over again!" Marnie spits out, her words laced with venom.

He's used to her throwing her late husband in his face to manipulate him into doing what she wants. She always portrays Sarah as the victim, conveniently forgetting that it was her own actions that kept Sarah from knowing her real father for the first ten years of her life. The guilt used to work on him, but he's since seen through her manipulations. "Those are my terms, Marnie. You are not going to back me into a corner. If this was truly important to Sarah, she could come to discuss it with me. But I’m not making any changes to her trust because you and her fiance are conspiring together."

His phone, which he had placed on the sofa cushion beside him, vibrates, pulling his attention away from Marnie's theatrics. A call from Bruce lights up the screen. "Excuse me, Marnie; I have to take this," he says, picking up his phone with a sense of relief at the interruption.

He steps back out onto the balcony, closing the door firmly behind him. The last thing he needs is for Marnie to overhear anything about Blaine. She paces back and forth in his living room, visibly fuming from their conversation. "Bruce, what news do you have?"

"Sir, I just got word that a woman matching the young lady's description just left your office. Apparently, she talked with the receptionist about needing to speak with you. The receptionist called security right after she left."

"Thank you, Bruce," he says, his mind already racing with thoughts of you.

He sends a text to his assistant to send the car around, and he prepares to leave, his resolve hardening.

"Where the hell do you think you are going? We are not finished here," Marnie yells after him.

"Yes, we are, Marnie. I expect you to leave before I get back. I will give orders to my security team downstairs to forcibly remove you if you refuse."

He leaves her standing there, her jaw dropped in shock.

He is not going to lose you again.

—

Joel's driver pulls up to the front of the Express Air Building, and he immediately jumps out to scan the crowd for you.

He lives only a few blocks away from the office, and he left as soon as he'd gotten word that you had been to his office. If he's lucky, maybe he'll catch you before you leave. He stands in the middle of the crowded sidewalk and scans the surrounding street; just across the street, he catches a glimpse of hair that looks just like yours. His heart skips at the chance that it might be you.

His designer dress shoes slap the pavement hard as he tries to make up the distance between you and him. He does his best to avoid a collision with the other pedestrians as he runs, but he knows he's doing a poor job of it, hearing the mutters of frustration in his wake. Despite knowing he's being rude, he pushes himself harder as the gap between you and him starts to lessen. He's halfway down the block from you when he sees your tiny arm shoot up, hailing a taxi. He knows he has to reach you before one of them stops to pick you up. He's ten feet from you when a bright yellow car pulls up in front of you, and you open the back door.

"Stop!" he yells as he races toward you.

You bend your head to enter the cab, and he grabs your wrist just in time.

"Excuse me!" you respond, turning to face him.

"Please, I need to talk to you," he says, out of breath from the chase.

"I am not who you think I am!" the woman says as his eyes finally land on her face. Clearly, not you.

"Shit. I am so sorry, ma'am," he apologizes, releasing her wrist immediately.

"You should be," the woman chides him as she yanks her wrist from his hand and slams the cab door shut.

He makes the long walk back to the entrance of Express Air, catching his breath along the way. He silently gets into an elevator, ignoring the buzz of his employees, numbly answering some of their greetings with a slight nod. Luckily, many of the employees are too busy to notice their boss sulking through the lobby and hallways. The elevator pings at the top floor, and he takes a step out into the waiting room of his office.

He notices at that moment that he's scuffed his shoes in the chase for the 'not you' woman. There goes a perfectly good pair of five-thousand-dollar shoes.

"Good Morning, sir," his receptionist Tabitha says as the elevator doors close behind him.

"Tabitha," he answers with a small nod. He's still angry with her for calling security on you, but he won't get the information he needs from her if he starts scolding her right away, so he holds off.

"Can I get you anything, sir? I wasn't sure if you were coming in today," she says.

"No, that’s quite alright. I wasn't planning on coming in today. Did anyone come by for a meeting with me today?" he asks, hoping she'll tell him about you stopping by.

"No one of any importance, sir," Tabitha says with a seductive smile as she grabs a water bottle from the mini fridge under the reception desk. She cracks the seal and hands it to him.

He takes a mental note that Tabitha is purposely not telling him that you had come looking for him, which he knows from the explanation she had given the security guard. He figures that might be a sign he needs a new receptionist. He takes the water bottle from Tabitha's outstretched hand, maintaining his stern exterior.

"Are you sure? I expected a visit from an old acquaintance. She was supposed to stop by today," he says with a calculating stare.

"Oh, we did have someone stop by," Tabitha says, fidgeting slightly under his gaze. "I didn't catch her name, though."

"Did you happen to 'catch' what she stopped by for?" he asks.

"She said something about knowing you personally, but I highly doubted it with the way she was dressed. I don't think you would stoop so low as to mix with someone who dressed so - common," she says, her voice dripping with disdain.

"What did she look like?" he asks, feeling anger rise up at her judgmental attitude.

Tabitha takes this as an invitation to further mock you to him, as if he had asked her for more of her petty gossip. "Oh, you would not believe the state of her shoes. These ugly brown clunky things. I cannot believe someone would ever leave the store with something so awful!" Tabitha squeaks with delight.

"No, Tabitha. I do’nt care what she was wearing. Why on earth would you think I was so shallow as to only care about the clothes on a person's back?" he says, his irritation clear.

Tabitha looks as though he has physically smacked her. She looks away from him without saying a word and slides a note from underneath her keyboard. She holds it in her hand and nearly flicks it at him.

"She left this note," her flirty tone has completely changed, and he can tell she's trying very hard to keep her voice professional.

"Thank you, Tabitha," he says as he takes the note from her. He walks into his office and closes the glass doors behind him.

He carefully flips over the note in his hand.

Joel, I am being contacted about swimming in the cove. We need to talk.

-P.S. I am sorry I didn't say goodbye.

You had signed the bottom of the note and left your phone number next to your loopy signature. He pulls out his phone and dials your number.

—

You sink into the old sofa, the energy drained from you after the encounter with Joel's dreadful receptionist. You've managed to hold back the hot tears threatening to spill over during the entire elevator ride down to the main floor, but those concerns fade into the background as you make your way back to the apartment. You don't want to call Lin for a ride, and you can't justify the expense of a taxi. The walk home is uneventful until you notice a man in a dark hoodie. He doesn't follow you home, thankfully, but his presence is a stark reminder that someone could be watching you. The thought casts a shadow over the rest of your walk.

"So, did you talk to him?" Aubrey peeks out from the kitchen, her face etched with concern. She must have noticed your less-than-enthusiastic flop onto the sofa or perhaps heard a sigh of frustration escape your lips.

"No, he wasn't at his office, so I left a note with his snobby receptionist," you reply, the disappointment evident in your voice.

"Well, I'm sure it's only a matter of time until he calls you and straightens this whole thing out," she says with a smile that's meant to be reassuring.

"Yeah, I'm sure he'll call if the receptionist actually gives him my note. I wouldn't put it past that witch to have tossed it in the trash the moment I turned my back," you say, pulling a throw pillow over your face to shield yourself from the world.

"Why do you say that?" Aubrey asks, her eyes filled with love and concern as she gazes at you.

You lower the pillow just enough to see her. "Aubs, that was the most embarrassing interaction I've ever had. She told me women pull the same stunt all the time to try and get Joel's attention. She treated me like I was some kind of groupie."

"I'm sure it wasn't your most embarrassing interaction. Do you remember when you sat on that foreign exchange student's jacket? You thought he was hitting on you because he couldn't figure out how to tell you he needed you to get up," Aubrey teases, her eyes twinkling with mischief.

"Aubrey! I asked you not to mention that again! What was I supposed to think when he kept gesturing to me and then pointing to his butt?" you say, feeling a smile tug at the corners of your mouth despite your exasperation.

Aubrey bursts into laughter, nearly wheezing with amusement.

"But you went on for like ten minutes about how you thought he was really nice but didn't see him or his ass in that way. Oh man, the look on that poor confused boy's face," Aubrey says, wiping a small tear from the corner of her eye.

You pull the pillow back over your face, partly to hide your smile at the memory of your earlier embarrassment.

"What are we missing in here?" Lin asks, entering the room from the bedroom and holding a tape gun.

"Oh, we were just remembering the time that you sat on the foreign exchange student's jacket," Aubrey says, trying to stifle a giggle.

"Oh, I never get tired of that story!" Lin exclaims, then begins imitating you, "I agree. You do have a really nice ass, but that doesn't change the fact that I don't think of you like that."

Aubrey's laughter erupts into a snort, which sets Lin off laughing just as hard. You can't help but think about how much you'll miss living with these two. You're taking Lin with you to Harvard, but it won't be the same without Aubrey.

"I'm going to miss this," you say, sitting up on the couch and hugging the pillow in your lap.

"Don't remind me that you guys are leaving. I've already cried about it today," Aubrey admits.

"Yeah, don't make Aubrey cry. You know I get all weird when people cry," Lin adds.

"You're right. I'm sorry, you two. I just feel bad that I've spent the last week moping around the place, not enjoying our time together."

"We understand, girl, especially now that we know about the whole mess with the photographer," Aubrey says.

"What Aubrey said. Anyway, what happened at Express Air? I'm guessing you didn't get a chance to talk to Joel, or we wouldn't be having this conversation right now."

"No, he wasn't at his office. His horrible receptionist made fun of me and would only let me leave a note for him. I don't even know if she'll give it to him, so all I can do now is sit and wait for him to call, but that's probably a long shot."

"I'm sure he'll call, girl," Aubrey says, coming to sit next to you on the couch.

"It's only a matter of time. And if he doesn't, I'll go up to his office and see if that snot-nosed receptionist can say no to me," Lin declares, sitting on your other side.

"Who said she was snot-nosed?" you ask.

"Just a shot in the dark, honestly, but it felt right."

You all laugh together until your phone starts ringing, breaking the momentary levity. You pull it out of your pocket and take a deep breath before answering, hearing a gruff deep voice on the other end, "Darlin'?”

Taglist <3

@lizzie-cakes @ashhlsstuff @puduvallee @theoraekenslover

#joel miller x reader #joel miller fanfiction #joel miller smut #joel miller #pedro pascal #joel miller x f!reader #tlou fanfiction

295 notes · View notes

foreingersgod · 2 days

Note

I LOVE THE FICS LATELY AND ALL THE TIME !!

one of them being the cc being obsessed with her gf , now i wanna see a kate martin being obsessed with her gf !!!

Always take rests !!!!

Work Song . KM

pairing: kate martin x reader

A/N: i’m not sure if anon wanted soft, tooth rotting obsession, but i yearn for sweetie pie kate so i hope it’s ok :’)

Boys workin' on empty

Is that the kinda way to face the burnin' heat?

kate was exhausted to say the least. practices, games…everything was really weighing down on her. she had so much on her plate all the time and it often got to be too much for her to handle. there was a lot of stress on her recently, being drafted and being the new girl on the team. she bared the overwhelming feeling of having to impress everyone, prove that she could handle it. and deep down she knew she could. kate was strong and smart and resilient, but her biggest fear was letting people down. letting you down.

that’s why, during times like this, she turned to you. her biggest supporter, her number one fan, her everything. you had been with her since the beginning. you were there for every meltdown and all the late nights spent in tears when kate felt like a failure. you were there for every loss and every win, there to clean up her nasty bruises and cuts. and now you were here to guide her through this huge change in her life. she wouldn’t be able to count on her fingers the amount of times you had truly saved her in the midst of all this. kate struggled with change, hated how she felt like she needed to start over with a whole new team and a whole new life. but you were there to remind her that nothing was going to change, you would still be with her every step of the way. all she needed was you, the most important thing in her life.

you were the reason she got up in the morning. you were the reason she kept pushing even when she felt like giving up. because she knew that at the end of the day, you’d be there with her, arms holding her tight to ground her. that you’d never leave her and, for that, she wanted to make you proud.

I just think about my baby

I'm so full of love, I could barely eat

she was gone for the week, in another state for an away game. but a week was 7 days too long for kate, she couldn’t stand being away from you. she remembers the night before she left, how she was packing her things unwillingly as you made sure she had everything in her bag. you were trying so hard to get her excited, it was going to be one of her first games upon her pro-ball debut and you had assumed she’d be ecstatic. but instead she was sulking (typical kate), talking about how much she was going to miss you.

“i can’t believe you’re about to go live out your life long dream and you’re sitting here pouting” you teased. she knew you were right, and she really was quite excited, but the thought that you wouldn’t be there killed her.

normally you would attend like you always did, but you needed to take the week to focus on finishing up school. kate admired the way you prioritized your studies, but there were times like these in which she cursed your determination. all she wanted was to see you out there, amongst the crowd, cheering her on. a big ‘20’ plastered on your shirt to show your support and a gratifying smile on your face. you were her lucky charm, she would say. but now she here, far from home and missing her girl.

it was the night before the game and kate and the team had opted for a nice dinner out. something to hype everyone up and to boost morale…well that’s what she was told. but it did little to cheer her up and get her excited. she dreaded leaving her lonely hotel room, somewhat dim and weary without you there with her. it had been a long time since she stayed in a room without you. kate had to fight her own mind to attend dinner with the girls, just wanting to stay in and facetime you instead. nevertheless, she managed to get dressed up and make an appearance.

the entire night she was miserable, as expected. she wanted to join in on the conversations, talk about what her teammates were talking about. but she couldn’t help but feel sorry for herself. she was still jet lagged, tired, nervous, and definitely missing you. she couldn’t even eat her food because she couldn’t focus on anything else but the image of you. memories of your relationship flooded her mind as she messed with the food on her plate, all she wanted was to go back home.

not able to stand it anymore, she made some excuse about being sick so she could leave. she packed up the leftovers to bring back to her hotel room and bid everyone a good night. her time would be much better spent texting or calling you than feeling sorry for herself at the table.

finally, she made it back to her room. without a second thought she was changing her clothes and crawling into bed, pulling out her phone and pulling up your contact. she had no hesitation in clicking on the ‘facetime’ button.

the phone rang several times, making her worried that you had already gone to bed for the night. but, on the 4th ring, the call went through and your face appeared on the screen. it was a gorgeous sight, she thought, seeing you there. you had taken off your makeup already, pulled your hair back, and tucked yourself into your shared bed. oh how she longed to be in that bed right now. you had instantly smiled when you saw kate’s face, making her heart ache for you.

“hi baby!” you chimed.

and that’s all she needed to hear. all of her worries, doubts, all of her anxiety was out the window now. she had just wanted an ounce of your attention all day, and at last, she could relax finally having it.

There's nothin' sweeter than my baby

I'd never want once from the cherry tree

“what did you say?” kate whispered, so shocked that she could hardly speak.

tonight was not a usual one. you had come home upset and stressed out, the past few days you’d been struggling with your mental health. it wasn’t often that you had difficult days, but when you did, kate was at your side and ready to help you in whatever way you needed. but tonight you felt inconsolable.

with kate becoming more popular in the media with her upcoming career, there had been a lot of press coverage. you actually hadn’t had an issue with it, you were thrilled for her to see that she was getting so much attention. but with the praise and positivity online also came the negative parts as well. you had seen a few articles and instagram posts concerning yours and kate’s relationship. seeing your name in bold headlines caught your attention. it was a bunch of nonsense, really, some random person online blabbering about nothing. they were clearly bothered by the fact that you and kate were very much in love, writing about how ‘kate could find someone much better’ or how she ‘should be with someone in her own league’. you tried to remind yourself of how foolish that was, kate loved you deeply and wouldn’t ever think of leaving you for someone else. but, with your history of self image issues and mental health, it was hard to believe it yourself.

“i said,” you were both sat on the couch, thighs barely touching. tears streamed down your face as you had your head turned away from kate. you had seen another one of those damned articles earlier and it seemed to be your breaking point, sending you into a fit of sorrow “i said i don’t know why you’re still with me”

the statement had caught her quite off guard. how could you possibly think such a thing? had kate done something? were you suddenly falling out of love? her heart was shattering as she sat there, desperately trying to figure out what had gotten you upset.

“baby,” her hand found its way to your cheek, gently guiding your head to turn back to her. your eyes were red and your lashes damp as you locked eyes with her “how could you say that? i love you more than anything in the world-i don’t understand”

“i just…i’ve been seeing all of those posts about us, kate” sobs racked your body and you hiccuped to try and catch your breathe “i see all the things they say about us and i can’t help but feel like you deserve more than me”

she had known about those posts for some time now, since she saw you inspecting one the other day. it broke her knowing you were indulging in all the ridiculous things people were saying about your relationship.

“hey hey hey” she wrapped an arm around you, forcing you to move closer to her “i don’t want anyone but you, got it? you have no idea how fucking in love with you i am”

a scoff fell from your lips briefly before you shook your head. you wanted to believe her, but your mind was so convinced otherwise “you’re just saying that”

“well allow me to enlighten you then?” she prodded, wiping the tears from under yours eyes. with reluctance, you nodded.

“i have never loved someone so much in my life” she began “i don’t even know where to start because there’s so much i love about you that it would take forever to say it all. i love the way you love me. how you take care of me all the time without me having to ask. how you make me breakfast in bed and how you brush my hair before we fall asleep. i love how you send me pictures of cute things you see in the store when you should really only be getting groceries. i love that you cry during movies even if it’s supposed to be happy because it shows how deeply you love things. and i love that you always think of people, even though that sometimes means you forget to take care of yourself. but i love that too, i love that i get to be the person that shows you how much love you deserve. that i get to sit here on nights like these and tell you how wonderful you are. because it’s true. honey, you are the best thing that has every happened to me and i’d be fucking crazy to let you go”

she let out a deep sigh, having lost her breath from her confession. if she had anymore air in her, she’d still be rambling on and on. the two of you stared at each other for a faint moment, her blue eyes gleaming back at you. your bottom lip quivered as another tear rolled down your cheek, although this time, it was a cry of joy.

“kate martin,” you muttered, almost speechless “i love you so so much”

she just chuckled softly and smiled at you. she guided you into a much needed hug, feeling your head tuck itself underneath her chin and your arms fall over her shoulders.

“i love you a thousand times more”

'Cause my baby's sweet as can be

She'd give me toothaches just from kissin' me

it was dark outside already, signifying the late hours of the night. you weren’t sure what time it was, definitely late enough that you should be asleep. but instead you and kate were both still up.

the orangey glow from your bedside lamp illuminated your bodies, creating silhouettes on the bedroom wall. kate was laid against the bed, back against the headboard and head tilted back. you were hovering over her as you straddled her waist with legs on either side of her figure. your head dipped down to her exposed neck, lips connecting lazily to her supple skin. eager hands roamed her shoulders and down the sides of her torso. her hands did the same, anxious to touch you wherever she could.

this was another instance in which kate unfortunately had to be away from home for an extended period of time. like every other time, she thought about returning home to you every second that she was gone. she hated not being able to touch you, to feel you, to know that you were right by her side. you had also been yearning for her arrival and hated her absence just as much. so when she was on her way home, she knew she would be having her way with you that night, no matter how late it might be. it may have been well into the early hours of this morning at this point, but the need to be with each other was a far greater need than sleep.

when she stepped foot in that house, she was already dropping her bags at the door and ridding of her shoes. sock clad feet marched quietly up the stairs as she began imagining kissing you for the first time in over a week. she pushed the door to your room open ever so gently, taking in your inviting presence. you had been fighting sleep, she could tell. your eyes peeking through low eyelids, hair messy from laying against the pillows, your lips turned in a sloppy smile. what a sight for sore eyes.

she was tempted to tell you to go to sleep, to get some rest that she knew you needed. but you were already sitting up and crawling over to her side of the bed where she now stood. one of her oversized tshirts hung loosely on your body, your lacey panties emerging from the bottom. before she had the chance to do so much as greet you, your hands were gripping her shirt and tugging her into you. soft lips molded into hers as you frantically kissed her. she took it as a sign that you needed her just as much as she needed you. so she let herself indulge, slithering into bed with you. articles of clothing were discarded to floor. your shirt thrown over your shoulder, kate’s sweatpants and top banished to a pile next to the bed.

now you were here, idly making out, taking each other in as much as possible. one might think you hadn’t seen one another in years by the way you both were acting. your bare chests were pressed together, creating arousing friction. kate’s fingers dug into the soft skin of your ass where her fingernails left small indents. she was breathing heavily and groaning as you left dark purple marks along her collarbone and the tops of her breasts, a reminder of your devotion. her hands pressed deeper into you, guiding your hips in a smooth rhythm of grinding against her lap. the room felt hot from the breathy moans and content sighs.

once you decided you were done marking the skin of kate’s chest, you made your way back to her lips. both of you were too tired to do anything other than this, just needing to be close to each other. not that you needed much else, having her lips on yours was enough to keep you satisfied. it was like your lips were meant for hers. they fit so perfectly together, moved against yours in the most delicious way.

kate let out another moan as she felt your lips grace hers. the sensation sent shivers through her veins. kissing you had to be the best feeling in the world to her. sometimes she felt sorry for the rest of the world, because what a sad life it would be to not know what it would be like to kiss you. and at the same time she felt so damn lucky that it was her, and only her, that got to know what this felt like.

When my time comes around

Lay me gently in the cold, dark earth

No grave can hold my body down…

“i hope you know that i’m absolutely head over heels for you,” she said next to you “you do know that, right?”

you hummed in response, nose scrunching as you looked at her. the amount of guests at your wedding must have been well into the one hundreds, but right here in this moment, it was just the two of you.

underneath a sky full stars was the makeshift dance floor of your wedding venue, marbled tiles beneath your feet. twinkling lights lit up the quaint garden of your backyard that you and kate both decided would be the perfect place to hold your reception. it was the middle of your first dance as a married couple and it was the most perfect moment of your life. your dress swayed behind you in the breeze, hair cascading around your face elegantly. kate looked even more beautiful than she normally did, if that was even possible. both of her hands rested on your waist and your arms looped around her neck as you danced across the floor slowly. your wedding playlist sounded in the distance and your families were watching you with teary eyes, but you and kate were only focused on each other.

“i do,” you replied “i hope you know that i’m also madly in love with you”

“i do” she had repeated like she did during her declaration of intent at the ceremony. you would never forget the look on her face when she’d said it for the first time “i’m never going to get tired of this”

“of what? our first dance?” you laughed, head falling back briefly “hate to break it to you, babe, but i think it’s gonna have to end at some point”

she laughed too, shaking her head. she pulled you in closer as her eyes wandered over the features of your face.

“no” she grinned “of looking at you”

your face was already turning a bright shade of pink, you could feel it as you smiled, but you didn’t mind one bit. you let your arms fall from around her neck as you heard the song of your dance come to an end.

your hands traveled up to take her face in your hands, something you have done often, a small action of your love. they directed her face to drop down to your level. you got onto the tips of your toes to meet her half way, kissing her passionately like your life depended on it. both of you smiled into the kiss, hearing everyone around you cheer as your dance concluded.

and, god, did it feel good to be loved like this.

…I'll crawl home to her

༶•┈┈୨♡୧┈┈•༶

A/N: i feel like this started out so good, but then i kinda fucked it up at the end, but i hope you all like it !!

#wcbb #wcbb x reader #iowa wbb #kate martin x reader #kate martin #las vegas aces #wnba #wnba imagine #wnba x reader #rpf x reader #wlw #wlw imagine #lesbian #lesbian imagine #foreingersgod #i love kate martin

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writingonleaves · 2 days

Text

don't wanna scrape you off the pavement (i can't be your savior) - jack hughes

pairing: jack hughes x original female character (reckless driving au)

warnings: swearing, angst, fluff, hopeful ending (bc its me), possibly inaccurate dynamics of the 2020 - 2024 umich hockey squads but i tried, some biphobia (not from any main characters), an awful lot of talking about michigan for someone who’s never been there (the college or the state)

inspired by + title: "reckless driving" by lizzy mcalpine and ben kessler

word count: 23.7k

author's note: after about 7 months in the making, it’s Finally here lol. this piece means a lot to me, and not only because it took so long. a labor of love, if you will. i'm very proud of it, so i sincerely hope you all enjoy it as much as i loved writing it! please do let me know your thoughts <3 takes place the summer of 2024

~*~*~

day one - amelie

Amelie Fishel has a love-hate relationship with the state of Michigan.

She loves it enough that she stayed in the state she was born and raised in for college. But even she knew she would’ve been an idiot if she denied the offer four years ago when University of Michigan offered her an academic scholarship that ended up covering her full tuition. She enjoyed her time at college enough, making a smattering of friends that she really does want to keep in contact with for the rest of her life and developing a solid foundation academically with various experiences that will hopefully help her out to get her dream job, which is on the horizon.

It’s a dream job because it falls in line with what she enjoys doing. But it’s also a dream job because it’s taking her the fuck out of this state. That’s the only request she’s had when trying to close in on an NHL photographer offer — it can be in any state except for Michigan.

But despite her feeling that she’s outgrown this state, she’s sticking around for one more summer. One more summer of no internships or responsibilities before she has to be a working adult for the rest of her life. A few more months to enjoy the few perks this state does have before getting to leave.

Currently, she’s sitting in the backyard of her grandparents’ new lakehouse. It’s admittedly beautiful and in a wonderful location that offers the tranquility that they’ve been searching for. The lake in their backyard glistens under the sun and the sunsets are stunning.

It’s a hot day in mid-July and she spent her first full day catching up with her grandparents in the backyard. After she had graduated, she splurged on a trip to Europe with some friends that definitely made a dent in her bank account. When she voiced getting a job for the summer, her parents and grandparents immediately said no. Enjoy the summer, they said.

After dinner, when the sun’s rays are barely peeking out, she volunteers to walk Susie, her grandparents’ golden retriever that is far too energetic for Amelie’s liking. Amelie grabs the leash, beckons Susie over, and they’re on their way to a walk around the neighborhood.

She forgoes her Airpods for whatever reason and shoves both her hands in her sweatshirt, walking leisurely behind Susie. She’s so lost in her own head that she almost misses the sound of her own name.

“Amelie?”

She blinks, stopping at the end of someone’s driveway. Susie trots happily to the guy who’s holding his hand out to pet her. “Luke?”

“Yeah,” Luke clears his throat and bends down slightly to pet Susie, who is loving the attention. “Hey buddy. What’s your name?”

“This is Susie.”

Luke chuckles as Susie’s tail wags crazily. “Hey girly. What a cutie.”

Amelie gently tugs the leash. “Easy, Suz. We don’t wanna kill him.”

She watches for a few seconds as Luke keeps petting her. Yankees hat atop his head and wearing a white t-shirt and swim trunks, it’s been over a year since Amelie’s seen Luke Hughes. The last time she saw him was after the devastating loss against Quinnipiac at the Frozen Four. He had jetted out to Boston that night, but not without giving Amelie an unexpected but genuine hug goodbye.

As a photographer for the Michigan Athletic Department during her entire college career, she became at friendly with many athletes, especially the guys on the men’s hockey team, since her boss put her on assignment with them a good amount. But she hadn’t expected Luke to remember her or recognize her.

“You live around here?” Luke asks, standing back up as Susie calms down.

“My grandparents just bought a place a few houses down and I just got here. You live here?”

“Kinda,” he gestures to the house behind him. “My brothers bought this place a few years back.”

“Small world,” she remarks.

He nods with a small smile. “It sure is.”

“Who’s your friend, Moose?”

She turns her head to the open garage to see a shorter, tanner version of Luke. This guy is wearing a black t-shirt with sweatpants, his hair less curlier than Luke’s. He must be one of his brothers, and even if Luke didn’t just tell her it was his brothers’ place, she would’ve put it together. They both have the same half-smile.

He’s also beautiful. Almost annoyingly so.

(If her sisters were here, they’d immediately point out that Jack is exactly her type. Well, Charlotte would point out that he smiles similarly to Cooper and Colette would immediately scold Charlotte.)

The guy walks over and Susie gets excited at a new presence. He also bends down to pet her. “This is Amelie,” Luke says. “She photographed a lot of the games back at Michigan.” He turns back to Amelie. “Did you just graduate? Or do you have one year left?”

“I just graduated.”

“Congratulations,” the guy stands up and sticks out his hand. “I’m Jack. Luke’s brother. Well, one of them.”

She shakes his hand with a polite smile. “It’s nice to meet you, Jack. And thank you.”

“You said you’re gonna be here for the summer?” Luke asks.

“Most of it, yeah.”

“Where do you live?” Jack asks.

“My grandparents are a few houses down. 118.”

Jack perks up. “Stanley and Ruth are your grandparents?”

“Yeah,” she narrows her eyes. “How do you know them?”

“They ran into our parents golfing last week. And I’ve waved at them a few times driving down the street.”

“That sounds about right,” she chuckles. “They love their golf and they love sitting on the front porch.”

Luke straightens up, and with Amelie’s previous interactions with him, that means that he’s about to suggest either a great or horrendous idea. “You should come over for dinner this week. You and your grandparents. Our parents are still here for a few days and we’re going a bit stir-crazy with each other, I think.”

So it’s a horrendous idea this time. She immediately tries to deny the offer politely. “Oh no, that’s okay. I wouldn’t wanna intrude your-”

“We’d love to have you. And your grandparents,” Jack says with an air of finality. “And I know our parents would say the same. They’re sick of also just having us around.”

“I still have your number from when you used to send me pictures after games,” Luke says. “I’ll text you details and we’ll find a time that works?”

“Okay,” she says after a few seconds. As if Susie understands, she barks.

Jack gives her one last pet with a grin. “This floofer’s welcome as well.”

After one last smile, she and Susie are on their way as the brothers head back into the house. Once they’re out of earshot, she sighs.

She has no idea how she feels about this.

day three - jack

Jack Hughes is convinced he’s going insane.

Well, that’s not exactly true. He’s perfectly fine, great, even. Recovery is going well. He’s back with his family in one of his favorite places in the world. Even in July, the season still seems so far away. Some days he itches to get back to The Rock in front of the fans. But most of the time, he’s enjoying his off-season rehab and training, being on the water and being on the golf course.

But Amelie – which first of all, an incredibly beautiful name — and her just as beautiful dog Susie have been at the back of his mind for two days straight now. That’s weird. Jack doesn’t usually think about girls like this, especially girls he’s barely met.

All he’s gotten from Luke so far is that she’s a year older than him, which makes her a year younger than Jack, she photographed a bunch of the Michigan games during Luke’s two years there and she’s a bit quieter than some of the social media team’s counterparts Luke knows she worked with.

And she’s so, so cute. But Luke didn’t tell him that one.

A few hours before she’s supposed to come over with her grandparents, Jack’s lounging on the boat, as Quinn, who’s in the driver's seat, and Luke are talking about…something. But he’s deeply focused on his phone, trying to do what every Gen Z person does when they see someone cute. Find their Instagram. The fact that he’s held off for over 48 hours is already impressive.

He finds it relatively easily, as some of Luke’s former teammates who Jack follows follow her, and Amelie isn’t a common name. She’s private, but linked in her bio is her photography account, which is public. While there’s no pictures of her on there, it proves to him that she’s an insanely good photographer. Not just hockey, either. There are some beautiful shots of divers, gymnasts, soccer players, etc. You name the sport, it seems like Amelie’s photographed it.

“Whatcha lookin’ at?” Quinn asks.

Jack quickly locks his phone. “Nothing.”

Luke, like the pest he is, narrows his eyes. “Sure.”

“Don’t make me push you into the water, Moose.”

An empty threat, Jack knows, but he starts leaning forward and Luke yelps. “Quinn!”

Quinn rolls his eyes, “You’re both annoying. We gotta head back though. I wanna shower before dinner.”

Dinner. Right. Amelie. Coming into him and Quinn’s home. Great.

Something must change on his face, because a shit-eating grin grows on Luke’s face. “Oh. That’s what this is about.”

“What?” Jack feigns cluelessness.

“Amelie’s pretty, isn’t she?” Luke says. Jack just shoves him and Quinn chuckles, catching up.

“If you think she’s pretty, why didn’t you make your move first?” Jack retorts back. “You had two years.”

Luke shrugs. “Just because she’s pretty doesn’t mean I’m interested. She’s cool though. Way too cool for you.”

“Is that a challenge?”

Luke rolls his eyes, “For once, no.”

“Was she friends with the guys?” Quinn asks. And Jack’s silently grateful that he doesn’t have to be the one to dig for more information.

“I don’t know if I would say friends, but definitely very friendly with everyone,” Luke says. “I think she was a TA in one of Rut and Adam’s classes or something. She seemed to get along with them the best. And I feel like she had a soft spot for Eddy, for some reason. I think it’s that thing where we just all are around each other all the time and the more we saw of her at the rink, the more we got to know her.”

Huh. Interesting. He doesn’t know anything about Rutger McGroarty except that he went to the program a few years after Jack did and was drafted to the Jets. Ethan Edwards is one of Luke’s closest friends from Michigan and could be signing with the Devils organization this upcoming season, and Jack likes him. Adam Fantilli trains with the guys in the summer so Jack’s gotten to know him decently well. That one might say the most.

Luke gives him a pointed look. “I’m serious. Don’t mess with her. She’s too nice for that. And she can put you in your place.”

And Jack’s downright offended that Luke would even insinuate something like that. But as Quinn guides them home, he thinks. Luke’s never given an opinion on any girl Jack’s dated or had a thing with. He’s spoken maybe three sentences to Amelie, didn’t even directly express his interest and Luke is already all up in his ass.

He hears when Amelie arrives hours later, Susie barking and the sounds of Stanley and Ruth talking with his parents. He tries to be nonchalant as they all come out into the backyard, when he sees her conversing with Luke, instead making himself busy by introducing himself to Stanley and Ruth.

But her pink linen pants match her headband and her smile is dripping with gold and Jack is going insane.

They have dinner outside surrounded by the sound of the rippling lake, the view of a cotton-candy sunset, the feel of light breeze and the warmth of easy laughter. Jack sneaks a few small pieces of chicken to Susie and Amelie catches him, glaring at him from across the table. Jack just smirks as she rolls her eyes, chomping away at her corn and tuning into whatever conversation is going on.

His parents ask about her background and her time at Michigan and he can’t help but smile when she talks about her double degree — communications and design — and how going to an activities fair turned into working as a photographer for the athletics department. She talks about her first time photographing a hockey game and how hockey is the fastest and in a way, hardest sport she’s ever photographed. But it’s become her favorite. That puts a smile on the faces of the entire Hughes family.

She gets asked what her plans are post-grad, and she just breezes through it casually, saying that she��s been talking to US Soccer and the NHL but nothing finalized yet. She says it so casually that Jack’s almost in awe.

Jack never believed in love at first sight, and still doesn’t, thank you very much, but the sound of Amelie’s laughter has him feeling so nervous and stupid and ridiculous.

Whatever. He’ll unpack this later.

day six - amelie

Amelie’s cameras and her camera equipment are her babies, which, duh, considering her passion and career. Which means she’s very excited to take out the vintage 35 MM film camera she got for a graduation gift from her parents.

After lunch, she takes one of the many outdoor chairs her grandparents have, plopping herself decently close to the lake to fiddle with some of the settings. She has her trusted DSLR camera next to her as well, the sounds of the birds and a Michigan summer her soundtrack. One of her neighbors must be playing the guitar outside and Amelie finds herself at peace.

The peace is slowly shattered as she hears a motor coming from the lake. She rolls her eyes to herself. Fucking boats and boatowners who think they’re the shit.

She does point her camera towards the boat though. It’s a cool shot.

She doesn’t realize it’s slowing down until it practically stops. She squints and sees someone waving their hand maniacally. She tentatively walks a bit towards the lake.

“Luke?”

He nods enthusiastically and Amelie kinda finds it endearing. She quickly takes note of Quinn at the helm and sees Jack’s head popping up from behind Quinn. The boat slows to a stop and she comes to the edge of the lake.

“Morning. Or afternoon, I guess.”

“Hey,” Jack says with a friendly smile. “What are you up to?”

She holds her camera. “Testing this out. I actually just got a pretty cool shot of the boat.”

“Is that a special kind of camera?” Quinn asks.

She nods. “Mmhmm. It’s a vintage 35 millimeter film camera, which is the exact opposite of what you want when photographing any sport. What are you guys up to today?”

Luke shrugs. “The usual. Probably gonna be on the boat for a few hours.” He lights up. “Do you wanna come on?”

She opens her mouth to say something but Jack pushes on before she can get a word out. “Yeah, come on!”

“If you don’t already have plans, that is,” Quinn adds.

She closes her mouth and thinks. She doesn’t have plans today and hasn’t ever been on a boat. Plus, even though she partially chose to spend time out here to reflect on herself and be by herself, she knows it’s good for her to be talking with people that aren’t her grandparents. And, they’ve been nothing but nice to her so far.

“On a few conditions.”

Jack tilts his head. “Which are?”

“I don’t have to get in the water and I get to bring my cameras.”

“Deal,” Jack says quickly.

Amelie gives a close-lipped smile. “Give me two minutes.” She sets her cameras down carefully by the chair side and jogs back into the house. She grabs her favorite Michigan crewneck in case it gets cold and grabs her tote bag which has sunscreen, sunglasses, her keys and wallet. When she comes back out, the boat is docked as close to the edge as possible. Without hesitation, Amelie takes off her flip-flops, wades into the water and hands Luke her bag and cameras carefully before Jack pulls her up into the boat.

She wobbles a bit and Jack’s hands hover behind her back in case she falls. “You ever been on a boat?”

“Not in awhile,” she says, settling down in a seat next to Luke. “I prefer having my feet on the ground.”

Luke’s eyebrows furrow. “You can swim, right?”

“What?” Amelie jokes quietly. “Are you planning on pushing me in?”

“No one is getting pushed in,” Quinn assures, sending a light glare at his two brothers as he starts steering them deeper into the lake. “Especially with those expensive cameras on board.”

“Are you really the one responsible for every photo of Luke playing hockey taken at Michigan?” Jack asks.

She blinks, absolutely taken aback. “Not every photo, I’d say.”

“Definitely a good amount though,” Luke says. “I feel like you were always at every game.”

She shrugs, “Well, my boss started putting me on hockey more because I’m pretty sure I was the only one who could do it well.”

“Oh yeah?”

“Hey, it’s a tough sport to photograph. It’s fast and unpredictable and you have to have a sense of where the puck is going before it gets there.”

Amelie internally cringes at that last part. She sounds like a coach.

“Did you like hockey before?” Quinn asks.

“Not really, to be honest. The first game I ever watched was at Michigan when I was shadowing.”

“You must’ve figured out pretty quickly where the puck will go, then, if you didn’t know much about hockey before,” Jack says with something like respect in his eyes.

Amelie smiles. “I guess.”

Quinn nods to the film camera that Amelie had picked up the second she got on the boat. “Can we see the picture you took of the boat?”

“I wish. I’m gonna get the film developed at the end of the summer and that’ll take a few weeks.” Quinn hums in understanding. She takes out her regular camera and pops off the lens cap, shoving it in her back. Luke’s eyes light up in recognition and she can’t help but chuckle. “You recognize this one?”

“How could I not?”

She points it at three of them. “Smile. All of you.” She snaps a couple before putting down her camera and playfully glaring at them. “Geez. At least act like you guys like each other.” She looks quickly at the photo with a satisfied nod, before turning her camera towards the brothers so they can see.

They continue chatting, talking about various things from Michigan (the state and the school) to one of their cousins who just got engaged to where Amelie’s parents are (they also live in Michigan, though further south, but are currently visiting family in France that Amelie had seen last year when she studied abroad in France) to the upcoming season. Amelie mostly keeps quiet on that front, because she doesn’t need to let them know that she got a call yesterday with news that the NHL is closing in on a job offer that will determine where she spends the next few years.

The thought that she could be seeing these three multiple times throughout the season when she’s currently on their boat right now is just downright weird. She just met Quinn and Jack six days ago. She hasn’t seen Luke in two years.

This whole thing is just weird.

But whenever she feels too much in her own head, she just picks up her camera and points it at one of them or out at the lake, fiddling with lighting and focus settings. Sometimes she forgets that photography isn’t just going to be her career and that she can love it differently with no pressure and in a different light, no pun intended.

With time, she gets more comfortable, sunglasses perched on her nose, chin tucked on her knees and laughter flowing out lighter and easier. It’s easier to pick up her camera when they start taking turns wakesurfing, her eyes widening when Jack jokingly tries to drag her out, and she’s either semi-impressed at their ability to make it look easy or laughing her ass off when they flail and fall.

As she’s shutting off her camera — contrary to popular belief, she does need to put it away after a certain amount of time — Jack plops down next to her. Quinn and Luke are entranced in their own conversation towards the front.

Jack runs a hand through his damp hair, “Do you mind handing me my shirt next to you?”

She hands it over with a weary look. “It’s boiling out.”

“Oh, so you want me to keep my shirt off.”

The smirk on his face has Amelie rolling her eyes. Boys. “You’re gonna wanna take it off again in like, 5 minutes. I just think you’re being dumb.”

Jack puts a hand over his heart in mock offense. “Ouch. That might be the harshest thing you’ve ever said to me.”

“I met you six days ago.”

“And my point still stands.” She scrunches her nose a bit when Jack shakes out his hair and some water droplets land on her. He just smiles that half-smile that she’s not sure if she likes or hates. “Are you sure you don’t wanna get in the water?”

“I’m not wearing a bathing suit. And even then, I’m not a huge fan of being in the water.”

“Well, then, what are you a huge fan of? Besides being behind the camera.”

She tilts her head so that it’s leaning against her seat, turning to face him completely. “I used to dance competitively and continued dancing a bit in college. I read a lot. At school, I used to love just camping out at a cafe for hours for the vibes.” She shrugs. “Nothing much else though.”

He nods, before looking at the cameras in her bag. “Why photography?”

She smiles, like she always does when talking about photography. “Taking photos is really cool, I think, because you’re the middle man. You frame the story. And if you frame it well, people will look at the photo and know exactly what’s going on. With sports, it’s all about the timing and the moment. You can write an article describing a game with quotes from the players or whatever, and no disrespect to that. I have a good amount of friends who are journalists. But photo is different, because you can see it, you know?”

Jack nods. “I think I get what you mean. You got a boyfriend waiting for you somewhere? Or a significant other?”

Her eyes widen and a sharp laugh erupts out of her. That’s random. “What?”

Jack just shrugs like he didn’t just completely throw her off. “It’s a valid question, no? Don’t wanna assume or give off an unwanted vibe if we’re gonna be hanging out all summer.”

“Well, uh, no. No boyfriend or partner of any sort like that.”

“Really?”

“I don’t know why that surprises you.”

“Because you’re pretty. Nice. Talented, clearly. Surely the guys and gals and pals at Michigan aren’t stupid enough to turn you down.”

She bypasses all the compliments because that’s too much to think about right now, instead focusing on the latter half of his sentence. She wraps her arms around her legs to clasp her fingers together. “I dated a girl for a bit freshman year. Nothing happened. It just fizzled out. We’re still decent friends. And then I dated this guy for about a year. But that fell to shit pretty extraordinarily.”

“Most of them do, don’t they?”

Amelie unintentionally chuckles. “Oh yeah? And what about you? How’s your love life looking?”

Jack looks out into the distance, breaking eye contact for the first time this whole conversation. “Was in a relationship around two years ago. It didn’t work out because of distance. Nothing much since then.”

Amelie highly doubts that, but she keeps her mouth shut, leaving it alone. “Fair enough.

“So why Michigan? Anything in particular draw you in?”

“Well, I think Michigan is on anyone’s radar who grew up in this state,” she twists her ring around. “And then, uh, when I got offered a full ride, I knew I would’ve been an idiot to turn that down.”

His eyebrows shoot up his forehead. “A full ride? You serious?”

“Yeah. Academic scholarship.”

He lets out a low whistle. “Jesus. You’re smart smart. Even I know full academic scholarships aren’t given out easily.” Amelie ducks her chin down. She can feel herself blushing and she hates it. “Was it your first choice? Going to Michigan?”

“No,” she admits softly. And she knows she’s talking to someone who may not have gone there, but who might as well have. He might love the college more than she does and she’s the one who actually is an alum. “NYU was my top choice. And I got accepted, but I couldn’t afford it.”

He nods, and then Quinn asks Jack to take over so he can go on the water and the moment passes. She does move closer to the front partially so she’s under the sun again, mostly so she can be closer to everyone. Luke tosses her a bottle of water and she chugs a good half of it, shooting him a thankful smile.

Amelie’s missed this, to be honest. Despite deeply cherishing her alone time, she’s always enjoyed being around a small group of people, observing them and their dynamics to evaluate what kind of people they are. It reminds her of when she used to tag along with her two older sisters and their friends.

And these three are easy-going. They don’t allow Amelie to get in her head because they’re always talking about something and asking for her two cents. In Amelie’s 22 years of life, she’s become quick to notice if people are being nice to be nice or being nice to be kind.

The Hughes brothers are being nice to be kind. And Amelie hates herself a bit for thinking it would be the other.

She sits back and relishes in their company.

day seven - jack

Jack’s had a great day.

Practice this morning went well, he beat Quinn at ping pong (though that’s not hard to do) and the three brothers have confirmed who’s coming to the lakehouse in a few days after they’re back from their mini trip to visit their grandma for her 90th. There’s gonna be quite a few of the guys and Jack’s pumped. He always likes combining different groups of friends.

After dinner, he’s feeling a bit restless, so he decides to go out on a drive. Maybe he’ll grab some ice cream, though if he comes back with ice cream and none for Luke or Quinn, they’re gonna bitch about it. He puts on his summer playlist, which is filled with country, and rolls down the windows before backing out.

He’s probably driving too fast for what’s acceptable in a residential neighborhood, so it’s at the last moment does he stop when he recognizes Amelie in front of her grandparents’ place walking Susie. He slows down, and she looks behind her as he rolls up.

He leans his head out of his window just as he hears her say, “Hey Char, I’ll call you tomorrow, okay? Yeah. Bye. Love you.” She takes her phone away from her ear and shoots him a small smile. “Hey Jack.”

“Hi. Was that one of your sisters?”

“Yeah, that was Char. Or Charlotte I guess. The middle one.”

Susie paws up to the window and he scratches her head. “Hey cutie. You’re such a good girl, aren’t you?”

“She’s been off the rails the whole day, so she actually hasn’t been.” Amelie says dryly, making him snort.

“You up to anything right now?”

She narrows her eyes. “Why?”

He nods to his car, “Get in.”

“You sure?”

“Of course.”

“Gimme a second to let Susie back in. Pull into the driveway.” Jack obeys, idling the engine and unlocking the doors as he waits for Amelie to come back.

While he’s waiting, he thinks back to yesterday, being on the boat for hours with Amelie, learning more about her. Jack’s been told that he can be pretty excitable and eager, which is probably how he has acquired so many friends throughout his life. But, despite what a lot of people may think, he isn’t that stupid. He’s been around Amelie the last week enough to know that she’s a tougher nut to crack. And he knows there’s more to her than what she’s shown so far.

So he’ll take every chance, every moment, to get to know her better. Because September will come around sooner than he thinks. It always does.

She comes back out and climbs into the passenger seat, buckling her seatbelt as he backs out of the driveway. She’s thrown on a Michigan Hockey sweatshirt over herself, settling her small bag on her lap. “You’re not gonna kidnap me and bury me in the woods, are you?” She asks.

Jack turns down his music with a chuckle. “No. I don’t have the brainpower for that. Have you eaten?”

“Yeah.”

He nods, starting to navigate them towards his favorite ice cream place around here. “Where’d you get the sweatshirt?”

She looks down at herself, as if she didn’t realize what she threw on. “Oh. I don’t remember, to be honest. Either it was given to me or one of the guys let me borrow it and I never gave it back.”

“Luke mentioned you were a TA in some of the guys’ classes?”

She leans back in the seat, leaning her head on the seatbelt so that she’s facing him. “Yeah. I was a TA my junior year for one of Adam, Rutger and Gavin’s classes. Senior year Luca and Nick, who I think came in after Luke left so you might not know him, took the class.”

“Were they good students?”

Amelie snorts. “Good enough. Though one time Rut tried to bribe me into extending an assignment since they had a big game away that weekend — I think it was Ohio State. I also had to go on that trip and I had to grade all of their stuff plus deal with my own classes, so I told him, in polite words, to fuck off and submit his fucking paper on time.”

Jack laughs. He can picture it in his head, Rutger with his good looks and childish smile turning on the charm to 100 to a skeptical Amelie, bored but amused eyes as she watches him plead his side. Maybe she’s wearing a headband. Maybe she’s not.

(She’s wearing one right now. A tiny white one that you’d miss if you weren’t looking)

“Those boys…were they good?”

“You’re the hockey player. Shouldn’t you know?”

“No. I mean, like, were they good to you? Nice to you? Because if they were dickheads…”

“No!” Amelie is quick to assure him. “They were great. Honestly. During my entire four years working with the team, I never really had a problem with any of the guys. And I can’t say that about every team I had to photograph.”

“Oh?” Jack sneaks a look over to her as she’s looking at her hands.

“Yeah.”

Jack wants to dig, but he doesn’t. He just doesn’t like the idea that people could be outwardly rude to Amelie when she’s just doing her job. He doesn’t like the idea that people could be outwardly rude to Amelie at all.

They climb out of the car and he locks it with a click as they walk side by side to the counter to order. He smiles to himself as he lags behind a few steps, watching her bounce on her toes to try and see the flavor options.

His attention is brought back into the moment as he feels Amelie tug the sleeve of his sweatshirt. “Is the Chocolate Delight good?”

“That’s Quinn’s favorite. It’s super chocolatey.”

“Perfect.” They both step up to the window. Jack orders himself a small Strawberry Cheesecake in a cup. Amelie orders a small Chocolate Delight in a cup and before the girl at the window can even finish listing out the total price, Jack practically shoves his credit card into her hand.

Amelie gives him a scathing look. “Jack. Come on. You didn’t even give me a chance.”

“Precisely.” Her glare stays on her face. “It’s not a big deal. My treat for kidnapping you on our boat yesterday and kidnapping you tonight.”

“So you are kidnapping me,” she says, referring to her earlier comment. She relaxes and Jack calls it a win as they’re given their ice creams. They snag a high-top table that’s a bit away from the other crowded tables. He watches as she digs in, a small satisfied smile on her face, turning sideways to look at the sunset.

He’s not the photographer, but he wishes he could take a picture of her right now.

They eat their ice cream in relatively comfortable silence, and he feels satisfied when he plays with her foot under the table and it causes her to chuckle. She does kick him back hard enough to make him flinch though.

20 minutes later, they’re sitting in the back of Jack’s car at a lake lookout catching the last streaks of the sunset when he pipes up. “Colette. Charlotte. Amelie. Very French.”

“Well, that’s what happens when your mother is French.”

“What do they do?”

“Col’s doing some cool stuff with fashion merchandising in New York. Just got engaged and getting married sometime next year. Char’s at Stanford getting her PhD in…something that involves physics and is over my head.”

Jack chuckles. “I feel that. My sister’s doing her residency at NYU and no matter how hard I want to understand, when she gets on her tangents, I can never follow.”

Amelie’s eyebrows furrow. “Sister?”

“Oh, well, not actually. It’s Clementine. One of us must’ve mentioned her yesterday,” Jack says. “She’s not my sister by blood, but our parents have been best friends since forever and we all grew up together, so she might as well be. Went to UCLA and then, also Stanford, actually. So for eight years, I didn’t really get to see her that often.” Jack digs out his phone and flickers through his photos before clicking on the one his mom took of him, Quinn, Luke and Clementine in New Hampshire earlier in the summer.

“She’s pretty,” Amelie remarks softly.

Jack smiles. “I don’t think I’d be the same if I didn’t have her growing up. We actually live together in Jersey now. Me, her and Luke. It’s a fun time, even if she pretends it’s not.”

“She’s doing her residency, you said?”

“Yeah,” he takes his phone back. “This I do know. Combined residency with pediatrics and the ER. Just finished her first year out of five.”

Amelie whistles. “Good for her. So she’ll be in New York and Jersey for the near future?”

“Yup,” Jack’s smile seems to always be permanent on his face when talking about Clementine. “Though now she’s dating Hisch so that’s a whole thing.”

“She’s dating your captain?” Amelie chuckles, eyebrows raised in amusement. “I sure hope you like him.”

“I love Nico,” he defends himself. “I was rooting for them to get together. They were tiptoeing around each other all of last season. But now that they’re actually dating I just like being a bitch about it to give them a hard time.”

Amelie shoves her hands in her sweatshirt. “That’s what siblings do.”

“I can’t imagine you being a bitch to your sisters’ significant others they’ve brought home.”

She shrugs, “I don’t think I am. I’ve been told I can be a bit closed-off when you first meet me though.”

“Hey. Nothing wrong with taking time to feel people out.”

“Some people don’t have the patience for that, though.”

“For what?”

“I don’t know. A lot of people just assume people who aren’t outwardly charismatic aren’t worth their time.”

Jack blinks, thinking about her words over and over again like a broken record. “Well, then they’re missing out.”

She looks at him and he’s momentarily distracted by the way her white headband creates a sort of halo around her. She lets out a small smile. Jack wants to frame it and put it on the wall of his room back in Jersey. She chuckles, and Jack feels defensive all of a sudden.

“What?” He asks, trying not to sound indignant.

“Nothing, it’s just…I don’t know. That’s such an interesting thing coming from someone who I imagine is exactly just that.”

“Just what?” He’s not doing a great job today at keeping track of where a conversation goes.

She huffs. “Outwardly charismatic. You’re telling me you’re not?”

Jack’s hands suddenly start to sweat. “I mean, I guess. But that doesn’t come easy to everyone. I still don’t think it comes easy to me. I’ve just been forced to be okay at it because of what I do.”

She starts swatting at bugs so they hop out of the trunk and start driving back. She doesn’t miss a beat in their conversation. “That’s another reason why I love photography. No one expects anything out of me or pays attention to me.”

Jack can’t help but laugh, thinking back to his rookie year and all the damn expectations that were placed on him that he didn’t surpass. It’s water under the bridge now, but he would be lying if he said that he doesn’t think about it once in awhile, especially when the draft bust comments come back after a stretch of bad games.

“I don’t know what that’s like, having no one expect anything out of me,” he admits, carefully pulling out on the main road.

“Do you like that? Having a chip on your shoulder?”

“Yeah, in a way. Definitely lights a fire under your ass and motivates you. But, I don’t know, it can get to be a lot, I guess. But I’m used to it. People have been expecting things out of me since I was 16. Younger, even.”

Amelie hums, adjusting her headband. “Must be a lonely place to be at times.”

“Where?”

“The top.”

Jack mulls over her words in his brain. Once. Twice. A third time. He clears his throat. “I’ve never thought about it like that.”

When he’s about to sleep that night, he replays their conversations in his head until he finally drifts off.

day twelve - amelie

Amelie’s a bit glad to have had a few days away from Jack — from any of the Hughes brothers — as they went on a mini trip to Canton to celebrate their grandmother’s birthday. She’s been filling her time by taking walks with Susie, tagging along to help Ruth with groceries and humoring Stanley when he wants to go sit at his favorite diner for hours to talk. Retirement’s pretty nice, Amelie thinks, but even she’s starting to get a bit restless.

So when she gets a text from Jack after finishing her morning coffee — she forgets when they exchanged numbers or if they ever even did. Luke could’ve given it to him — she’s actually excited.

Weird. When’s the last time Amelie has felt excited to get a text?

Jack Hughes

amelie my amelie

we just got back last night

and a bunch of your boys are here for a few days

you should come by and say hi

Amelie furrows her eyebrows as she responds.

Amelie Fishel

my boys?

Jack Hughes

beniers, briss, blankenburg, fants, brindley and eddy

i might be leaving someone out but you get it

Amelie blinks. She hasn’t heard some of those names in years. And they’re just all over the house right now?

Hockey players are weird. Their friendships and circles and how they overlap are even weirder.

Amelie Fishel

that’s a lotta boys

Jack Hughes

yeah and that’s not even all of them

luke mentioned that you’re nearby and they’re kinda harping on me to get you to come over

i also just wanna see you

“You should go,” Amelie jumps out of her seat. Luckily, Ruth isn’t directly behind her. She doesn’t particularly want to be nursing her grandma’s injuries.

“Don’t eavesdrop on my conversations, Grandma.”

“You should go,” Ruth repeats. “Those boys were sweet and polite over dinner. And you know their friends?”

“Yeah. Photographed quite a few of them at college throughout the years.”

“Then you should go.”

“Aren’t we about to go to lunch with some of your friends?”

Ruth tuts. “They’d perfectly understand you ditching us old gossips to hang out with your friends.”

“I’m going to lunch with you. I haven’t seen them in awhile either and I like your friends,” Amelie says firmly. One look from Ruth and Amelie relents. “I’ll go see the guys after dinner. If they even want me.”

Amelie Fishel

won’t be around until after dinner

dunno if that changes your invite

Jack Hughes

see you after dinner 🫡

i’ll try to hold off your fan club in the meantime

(As Amelie goes upstairs to change, Ruth chuckles to herself. She remembers the middle Hughes brother unable to keep his eyes off Amelie at dinner that night.)

After dinner comes, and she shuffles through her dressers before reminding herself that it doesn’t matter what she wears. She throws on her favorite pair of jean shorts and tosses on a Stanford sweatshirt she stole from Charlotte ages ago. She grabs her tote bag, kisses her grandparents goodbye and pats Susie on the head before walking out the door.

As she approaches the Hughes home, she rolls her eyes at all the cars parked in their driveway and lining down the street. Exactly how many people are here?

She hears voices coming from the back and decides to forgo the front door and paddles over through their side yard into the back. Amelie pauses at the sight, taking in what must be at least ten people by the firepit. She tries to be discreet, figuring out where or who she should head to first. But a voice calling out loudly stops her.

“Mimi!” Before she knows it, Adam Fantilli crashes into her body. She grunts into his chest as he lifts her up.

“Call me that one more time and you won’t have a season to get back to in Columbus.”

Gavin chuckles from behind Adam, before reaching out for his much tamer hug. Good. “Nice to know some things don’t change.”

She huffs, but her heart does feel lighter. “I saw you, like, three months ago, Brinds. No one changes that much in three months.” She lets the two boys each swing an arm around her shoulders and gets smushed in the middle, both simultaneously talking her ear off. She’s not really catching what they say, and she thinks they don’t actually care, but it’s nice to be around them again. Really nice. Familiar.

She’s led to the fire, and feels her smile grow as Nick Blankenburg, Brendan Brisson and Matty Beniers all bounce over and give her enthusiastic hugs and greetings. God, it’s been so long since she’s seen them. Even though she was younger and more naive when photographing them her freshman year, they were on her first roster. And there’s always something special about the first one.

“The fact that you decided to stick around the boys for four years says a lot,” Nick says with a smile. “Did you like them as much as the guys during your first year though?”

“You never forget your first!” Matty chimes in and Brendan throws his head back in laughter. Amelie’s sick of them already, rolling her eyes as she greets Luke with a tight side hug.

She beams at Ethan, whose smile is just as big. “Hi Eddy.”

“Hey Ami,” She lets out a laugh as the smiley Canadian smothers her in a hug. “I didn’t think I’d be seeing you so soon. I’ve missed you.”

“Me neither,” she mumbles into his chest before pulling away. “Missed you too.”

“Well, we obviously know who the favorite is.” Someone pipes in and her eyes track toward the voice. This guy definitely didn’t go to Michigan, but has one of the most contagious smiles she’s ever seen. “I’m Trevor. Friend of Jack’s. I’ve heard a lot about you.”

Ah, yes. She remembers Jack mentioning him a few times. “Nice to meet you, Trevor.” She turns to the last person she doesn’t know. Dark brown, curly hair and pouty lips. “You must be Alex.”

Alex’s eyebrows shoot up and Amelie kinda likes that he doesn’t hide his surprise. “Yeah. Jack talk about me too?”

“Yeah. Mostly Ellen though. Said that you’re the favorite.” Alex grins as Trevor howls in laughter.

“He is,” Jack grumbles from behind her. “Even to this day, It’s quite annoying.” Jack shoots her a quick smile and Amelie smiles back before thanking Quinn quietly as he passes her a cider.

She looks around to see that all of the guys have beer in their hands. She had mentioned off the cuff on the boat that she hates beer. She’s touched that they remembered. She takes a seat in one of the adirondack chairs, Jack on one side and Adam on her other.

“I saw Luke’s story. How was golfing?”

“Good,” Quinn says.

“You a golfer, Mimi?”

Again, Amelie glares at the young Blue Jacket. “I think I’d rather do anything else.”

Brendan chuckles. “I recognize that glare. I’ve almost missed it.”

“I have no idea what you’re talking about,” Amelie says, sipping her drink and wrapping her arms around herself. Jack tosses the large blanket over both their legs and she nudges his foot with hers as a thank you.

The boys are loud and talk over each other and Amelie can’t remember the last time she’s rolled her eyes this much. She takes the bag of chips that Ethan passes her and finishes it off, much to Luke’s dismay. And of course, true to herself, she takes out her camera to snap a few photos. As the sky darkens and fire blazes, Amelie feels warm, chiming in occasionally when she sees fit but mostly listening.

Amelie’s attention is pulled back to the present with Ethan asking her a question. “You mentioned at the end of the season that you were looking at jobs with some different sports leagues.” She doesn’t remember telling him that, but if there’s anyone she would tell, it would be him. “Did any of that, you know, go anywhere?”

Amelie smiles. “I’m in the final stages of, uh, figuring out something with the NHL.”

Jack’s eyes widen. “No US Soccer anymore?”

Amelie shrugs. “Maybe in the future. But no, not right now. Least not full-time.”

“Wait,” Ethan pushes with wide, excited eyes. “Ami. Are you gonna be-”

“I don’t wanna jinx it,” Amelie says with her hand up, but a smile peeks through. “It’s not a sure thing yet. They’re trying to figure out with what team or area of the country. Or that’s what they told me.”

Cheers erupt and she kinda wants to hide her face behind her hands. Popcorn is thrown at her and she swats it away. She turns to look at Jack, who smiles and picks a kernel out of her hair.

It’s a beautiful smile. She wishes she saw it more often, instead of the half smirk half smile he always does.

“Any chance you’d be in Jersey?” Luke asks as Ethan grins and Jack nudges her elbow.

“Columbus also works!” Adam calls out, high-fiving Nick and Gavin.

“California sunshine is nice,” Trevor sings out.

“Just the west coast in general,” Quinn adds as Brendan, Alex and Matty all nod emphatically.

“Your pitches all need some work,” Amelie snorts, before shrugging. “Honestly, I’ll be fine anywhere. Just not Michigan. I need to get out of here.” Everyone laughs, but she catches Jack’s inquisitive look. She quickly lets herself get dragged into a conversation with Quinn, Nick and Adam instead.

She eyes the pool table through the window of the sunroom and Jack catches her, challenging her to a game. She, along with Jack, Adam and Ethan decide to go in for a quick game. They split up into teams, her and Jack on one, Adam and Ethan on the other.

She eyes the chalkboard and grimaces at Jack’s less-than-desirable record. “Do I really want you on my team?”

Jack follows her eyeline and rolls his eyes. “Ignore that.”

“Kinda hard to,” she squints. “Damn, I should’ve dragged Quinn in here.” Jack pouts as Ethan snickers, her waving at Adam to break.

What Amelie failed to voice when she saw the pool table is that she is pretty damn good at pool. During the few times she went out in college, it’s how she and her friends liked to get free drinks. She would challenge a few of her overconfident guy friends or acquaintances and bet a free drink or two. Though actually, she remembers she played against Adam at least once and absolutely destroyed him. She’s surprised and amused that he doesn’t remember, if his wide eyed indignation at her sinking a seemingly-impossible shot says anything, much to Jack’s amusement.

“Holy shit,” Jack says, impressed. “Who taught you to play? Can you give me their number?”

Amelie shrugs with a small smirk, watching Adam take his turn. “There was a diner I grew up nearby that had a table. I honestly can’t remember who taught me. I just played against my sisters a lot.”

“We should’ve placed a bet on this. You two didn’t know about this secret talent?” Jack says, directing the question to the former Wolverines.

“Yeah, Adam,” she eggs on, laughing as his shot misses. “You should remember. I got you and Truscott to buy me a drink out of it once.” Adam curses in realization as Ethan cackles.

“Wait, I remember that,” Ethan says. “I was even shocked that you were out and about, considering all the times you turned our invites down. Imagine me hearing that not only are you out, you also just single handedly took down the two best pool players on the team.”

“Turning down invites to parties, huh?” Jack chuckles.

Amelie rolls her eyes, watching Jack take his shot. “No. They were all just up in my business when I was trying to be professional.”

Ethan scoffs. “Professional? Yeah, okay.”

“Professional,” Amelie repeats. “I was working for you guys, technically.”

“Ew, no you weren’t,” Adam says, crinkling his nose. “Don’t say that. God. You were just as much part of the team as we were.”

“I don’t know about that,” she watches Jack mess up his shot and just rolls her eyes. “All I did was take pictures of you all.”

“Part of the team,” Ethan emphasizes, also messing up his shot. God, Amelie thinks. These boys are bad at pool. “Stop pretending we weren’t your favorites to photograph.”

“Yeah, admit it!” Adam chimes in. “You were easier on me when grading papers too.”

“I was absolutely not,” she says. “The fact that you treated pre-game as office hours made me grade you harder.” They just wave her off and Amelie huffs.

“Look where being professional got you,” Ethan smirks. “Some fun friendships, eh?” She smacks his shoulder.

“You’re lucky I like you,” Amelie warns, before sinking in the 8-ball with a smirk. Adam and Ethan groan as Jack cheers, placing an overzealous kiss on her cheek before going to the chalkboard. “You’re welcome for the win.”

When the fire starts to die out and more people start yawning an hour later, Amelie decides to call it a night. She gives everybody a hug, promising more than once that she’ll see everyone at least one more time before they leave in five days. Jack offers to walk her home and she doesn’t even bother fighting.

They start walking. Amelie flips her hood up and Jack shoves his hands in the pockets of his shorts. “You lied to me.”

She furrows her eyebrows. “Huh?”

“Said the guys were just nice to you. They love you.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“And you love them.”

Amelie stares down at her shoes with a shrug. “Like I said, they’re good guys.” She looks back up and tugs at his sweatshirt sleeve. “Thanks for the invite.”

“Of course.” Jack says. “You’re always welcome.”

“I don’t think you mean that.”

“I never say things I don’t mean,” he says lightly. “Waste of time and energy.”

Amelie swallows, Jack’s woody cologne filtering through her nose and all of a sudden, it feels like he’s too close, but she can’t pull herself away. “Thank you though. Seriously. You’re right. I-I’ve missed them.”

She lets him pull her into a side hug and doesn’t say anything when he keeps his arm swung around her shoulder. “Do you have any plans tomorrow?”

Amelie chuckles. “What are you thinking?”

“Well, turns out some of the guys want a rematch because they’re mad I beat their asses so we’re golfing again tomorrow, but we’re starting early.”

“I’m not going golfing. Even the best bribe couldn’t bring me out there.”

“I’m not asking you to come golfing,” Jack laughs. “It’s just, contrary to what you may believe, I’m kinda annoying in the morning and need caffeine and fuel to deal with that many people, especially before going on the course.”

“Jack, what are you-”

“Do you wanna grab breakfast tomorrow? Just the two of us? Those fuckers never get up in time.”

“So you’re gonna let them starve?”

“They can figure themselves out.”

They stop at her front door and she turns around. Him being on the step below causes them to be at the same height. “Sure.”

The left side of his lips quirk up. “Yeah?”

“Yeah. Though subjecting me to your pre-caffeine self seems like you’re trying to sabotage me.”

He rolls his eyes. “Does 9 work?”

Despite herself, Amelie grins. “See you then.” She reaches behind her to twist the doorknob. “Thanks for walking me home. Goodnight Jack.”

“Goodnight.”

She watches through the window until he walks out of sight. She then looks at the lone light still on in the kitchen and has an idea.

day thirteen - jack

Jack’s not an idiot, despite what his brothers and teammates may tell you. He knows this isn’t a date.

But it sure feels like one.

Jack’s looking at the suitcase he probably should’ve fully unpacked by now, figuring out what to wear. It’s literally just breakfast with a girl he met not even two weeks ago, so he shouldn’t really care what he’s wearing.

Breakfast. With a girl he met less than two weeks ago. A girl whose company he really, really enjoys.

He shakes his head at himself, pulling out a black t-shirt and khaki shorts. He decides to clasp on a watch before he can overthink himself out of it.

At 8:57, he quietly paddles downstairs and grabs the keys off the hook before jumping into his car. He barely pulls into her driveway before her front door opens. A smile spreads across his face at Amelie, her floral pink dress flying behind her as she rushes out, quickly checking she has what she needs in her tote bag before opening the car door.

“Good morning,” he says.

“Hey,” she breathes out. She scans him up and down really quickly. It makes him swallow. “You look nice.”

He backs out of the driveway. “You do too.” When he gets to look at her again, he notices the matching hair scarf hanging from her ponytail. “I like the thing in your hair. You look like a fairy.”

“A fairy?”

“Yeah.”

She blinks. “Oh. That’s…really nice, I think? Thank you.”

“Definitely a compliment.” He bites his lip to stop his smile from growing too wide. She hums along to the song on the radio and looks out the window. He rolls it down for her and watches her lean her elbows at the edge, her head peeking out.

Jack has to drag his eyes back to focus on the road. The sight of Amelie sitting shotgun while he’s driving brings a feeling in his stomach he’s never felt before. At least not to this depth.

She turns to him. “Where are we going?”

“Sunny Side Up right off Beecher Ave.”

She chuckles. “That’s Grandpa’s favorite place. We might catch him come in as we leave.”

He freezes a bit as he slows the car down with a stop at the light, at the thought of Stanley coming in to see him with his beloved granddaughter, both semi-dressed up on a Wednesday morning, just the two of them.

When they arrive, he holds open the door for her, and breathes in the smells of coffee and eggs and everything good coming out of the kitchen of Sunny Side Up. The place is emptier than he expected, but he also knows the typical brunch crowd rolls in a bit later. The hostess tells them to sit wherever they like and he follows Amelie to a spot by the window. They barely slip into their seats before he hears a familiar scratchy yet comforting voice.

“Amelie!” The woman then turns her head and doesn’t even hide her surprise as her grin grows. “And Jack Hughes. What a nice surprise.”

“Hey Sherry,” Jack nods with a grin.

He sees Amelie’s eyes light up, even if it’s subdued. “Hi Sherry.”

The older woman that Jack has seen here every summer since he moved here sets two menus down. She offers Jack a pointed look that looks awfully like his mother’s. “I haven’t seen you here this summer as often as past summers. You cheating on us with some other cafe?”

“I’m a loyal guy, Sherry,” he charms. “I would never.”

Sherry narrows her eyes, “Mmhmm. I’ll get you two some coffee while you decide what you want.”

Amelie nods and flashes a warm smile. “Thank you.” They watch Sherry scurry away. The sound of Amelie’s gentle laugh pulls his attention back to her. “You come here often, huh? Well, clearly not often enough this summer.”

“Hey, you can’t even say that,” Jack whines. “Clearly you come here often too.”

She shrugs, “Like I said, it’s Grandpa’s favorite place. I come here with him at least once a week.”

“Do you have any friends around the area?” Amelie’s eyebrows shoot up and Jack immediately backtracks. “Not that-I didn’t mean it like that. I just-”

Amelie snorts, leaning back in her seat. “Chill Jack. I know what you meant. The ones who are in Michigan aren’t close by and the rest are spread out across the country. I came to my grandparents’ knowing that I wouldn’t see a lot of my friends. Kinda purposeful on my end, in a way. But then Luke saw me walk Susie and now here we are.”

“Don’t pretend like you haven’t enjoyed our company.”

“It’s definitely made my summer more eventful.” Their coffees come and neither of them look at the menu before ordering. Jack orders the french toast with strawberries and blueberries and she gets the house omelet. Jack ignores the pointed look that Sherry gives both of them, because he’s right with her and kinda has no idea what to make of this but is trying to enjoy it while he can.

He feels her nudge his feet under the table. He snaps his focus back to her as she nods to the cup of creamers next to him. “Pass me two?”

He nods, obliging. “Sugar?”

She shakes her head. “I’m good. Thanks.”

Jack watches her stir the creamer in before a sudden thought pops up. “Yesterday, when you said that you don’t care where you went as long as it wasn’t Michigan, what did you mean by that?”

Amelie, to her credit, doesn’t seem surprised by the sudden question. “Exactly what I said. It’s nothing against the Red Wings. I just need to get out of here.”

“Why?”

She stares at him for a few seconds, and Jack gets nervous. Before he can take back the question, she answers. “When you haven’t really gotten the chance to travel or live anywhere your whole life and a job offers you to go anywhere, you take the chance.”

Jack nods slowly. He’s gotten to travel to a lot of places through hockey, but he still considers Michigan his home and often feels an urge to come back during the season — as much as he thoroughly enjoys living and playing in New Jersey. It’s hard for him to wrap his head around the fact that someone could want out of Michigan.

She smiles and chuckles a bit suddenly. Jack raises an eyebrow in question. She just shakes her head. He thinks she’s adorable. “Sorry, I’m not laughing at you. I just thought of something.”

“Do share with the class.”

“I’ve been so excited at the prospect of leaving Michigan, but it’s so clear you and your brothers love it and I don’t know. It’s nice to be reminded of the good parts of this state.”

He shrugs, “I don’t know. I guess throughout the season I don’t really get to be around Quinn or my friends and family that often, so when all of us have the off-season, we all naturally gravitate towards home, which nowadays, is here.”

“You don’t have to defend yourself about why you like this state, Jack,” she says with a small chuckle. “I get it. My family’s technically all here too, so I can’t escape it completely.”

Their food arrives soon after and they spend a few silent minutes just digging in. He cuts a piece of his french toast for her and she in turn cuts him a portion of her omelet. He’s hoping that she’s not catching the fact that he can’t keep his eyes off of her.

When they finish, Jack shoves his card into Sherry’s hand when she grabs the check, they’re walking out of the diner, full and content. The sun is beating down but not too hard that Jack feels gross. Hopefully it stays that way when he and the boys go out golfing in an hour.

“Do you have a second to come inside?”

Jack’s eyebrows immediately shoot up his forehead, killing the engine. “Yeah. Why?”

“Just come inside,” Amelie rolls her eyes. “I’m not gonna kill you.”

“Reassuring,” he deadpans, following her through the front door and immediately bending down to pet Susie and prevent her from running out. He watches Amelie disappear into the kitchen for a moment before she comes back out with a tupperware container filled with…cookies?

“For you,” Amelie hands him the tupperware. “And the other guys.”

“What are these?”

“I kinda got a burst of energy after I came home last night and wanted to do something with my hands. You’re gonna tell me you guys are gonna turn down fresh cookies?”

“No,” he says, looking back at her. “Thank you.”

She smiles. “You’re welcome.”

Jack opens his mouth and then closes it. He wants to ask why she made the cookies. Why she’s giving a large container of them to him and their friends. If it means anything.

Instead, he backs towards the door. “See you around?”

“Yeah,” she says. “Have fun golfing with the boys. I don’t want to hear a single thing about it.”

He laughs. “I won’t subject you to that. Promise.”

“I’ll hold you to it. And thanks for breakfast.”

“Of course.”

“Stop paying for me though.”

“Never.”

She playfully shoves him out the door with an eye roll. He thinks he could see that eye roll for the rest of his life and feel content.

day fifteen - amelie

As she’s pouring herself a second cup of coffee, she hears someone knocking on the front door. Ruth’s out walking Susie and Stanley’s out golfing with friends the day, so Amelie trudges over to the front door.

It’s Quinn, in a Canucks sweatshirt and basketball shorts, his hands shoved into his pockets.

Amelie smiles easily, albeit confused. “Hey Quinn.”

“Morning.”

“What’s up?”

He shifts on his feet. “Are you busy?”

“Not really,” she opens the door wider for him to come in. “I was just editing some photos. Coffee?”

“Please.”

“Anything in it?

“A bit of milk if you have some.”

She hums, preparing his coffee and carefully sliding it over to him as he rests his forearms on the island. “Where are the rest of the guys?”

He shrugs. “Either asleep or just hanging out. We had a tough practice this morning.”

“And you decided to come here?” She teases. She doesn’t want him to think he’s not welcome, because she actually really likes Quinn, despite spending the least amount of time with him compared to his brothers.

“Kinda wanted some peace and quiet, to be honest, which is hard to find in the house when there’s so many people,” he admits, before nodding to her open laptop. “You said you were editing photos? What for?”

“Partially to update my portfolio. Partially to brush up on my skills.” She moves the laptop so he can see it. Pulled up is a picture she took last year at a Michigan swim meet. “See how it’s a little too bright here?” She clicks on the dodge tool in the open Photoshop tab and quickly edits. “There.”

“Do you do this with every photo?”

“Sometimes I switch between different softwares, but it’s generally the same process. The big differences that I have to be aware of are lighting and composition when editing.”

Quinn nods. “This is sick. Like, super cool.”

She quickly saves her work before turning her full attention back to Quinn, smiling. “Thank you.”

“Do you have any photos you’ve taken of us the last few weeks?”

With that, Amelie scoots herself closer to him and slowly scrolls through a bunch of photos, starting from that day onto the boat and then to the fire the other night and other miscellaneous ones inbetween. Quinn lingers on a picture that’s one of her favorites, one that makes her smile everytime she sees it. It’s of Jack the night of the fire. The light from the fire is illuminating the front of his face while the dawn of the Michigan sky behind him casts him in a subtle light.

He’s looking away from the camera — at Gavin, if she remembers correctly — in the middle of laughing. His hair is all tousled over his forehead, some loose strands going over his eyes. His blue eyes are bright and if she showed this photo to anyone who didn’t know Jack Hughes, she’s sure they would be able to hear his laughter anyways.

He looks radiant. Everything like the bright and intense first-overall draft pick he was projected to be. As she watches Quinn’s eyes flicker over the photo, she thinks there’s something incredibly intimate about the way the camera captures the middle Hughes brother.

(“The subject of the camera makes up less than one percent of the photograph,” Professor Yang, one of her most trusted mentors said to her once. “The majority of the beauty of a photograph comes from the photographer themself and how they see the subject.“

It’s always at the most inconvenient times does Professor Yang’s voice ping through her head.)

She watches Quinn click through other photos, some edited, most of them raw. He makes small comments here and there asking about the mechanics of photography and how she knows when and what to shoot her lens at. She tries to explain in a way that would make sense to someone who knows little to nothing about photography and Quinn, to his credit, is keeping up the best he can. She goes to pour Quinn another round of coffee as Ruth comes back in through the side door, Susie trotting over to Quinn happily, who pets her. Ruth merely smiles as she’s sliding off her shoes at the sight of the eldest Hughes brother.

“Good morning, Quinn.”

Quinn grins. “Good morning. Sorry for interrupting.”

Ruth waves him off, coming to kiss the top of Amelie’s head. “Not at all. I see Amelie here has offered you some coffee. Would you like some chocolate chip cookies? Also courtesy of Amelie.”

“Not on the meal plan, I’m sure,” Amelie comments dryly.

Quinn laughs loudly. “No, but it is the summer.” He reaches into the container in Ruth’s hands. “Thank you. I actually had some of the ones you gave Jack last night. They’re really good.”

Amelie ignores the look she knows her grandmother is giving her. “Thanks. I could teach you how to make them, if you’d like. My, uh, an old friend of mine taught me a trick his mom taught him that make it extra gooey.”

She, again, ignores the look her grandmother is giving her. Quinn doesn’t need to know that old friend is her ex-boyfriend.

(Humans are interesting in the way that they’re mosaics, made up of the pieces — people, in this case — they’ve encountered in their lives. Amelie hates what Cooper did to her, but she will never forget the methods he taught her about making the perfect chocolate chip cookie)

Quinn grins. “I’d love to know, actually. I’ve been wanting to figure out how to bake simple things to, like, bring to events and stuff. I should, right? Being captain and all.”

Amelie snorts as she starts getting ingredients. “If you say so.”

Quinn and Ruth start chatting inbetween Amelie telling Quinn what to do. She can tell her grandmother is absolutely charmed by Quinn’s politeness and overall presence. And to be honest, she is as well.

It makes sense that he’s captain, in the way he speaks, listens and guides. Amelie thinks if she were on a sports team, she’d ride into battle with, for and alongside him.

Quinn spills a bit of flour on the counter and Amelie just snorts, waving away his apologies and telling him to crack the eggs. She just eyes him to make sure he isn’t fucking that up while listening to Ruth talk about something Charlotte told her on a call the other day.

“You know,” Ruth starts and Amelie immediately doesn’t like where her tone is going. “My granddaughters are pretty great people, present company included. Colette’s engaged, but Charlotte’s single.”

Amelie bursts out in laughter as Quinn starts blinking, no doubt trying to think quickly about how to respond to that. “Grandma, at least try to be subtle about it.”

“Why? I’m too old for that.”

“With all love, I don’t think Quinn is Char’s type. Char only dates assholes, remember?”

Quinn laughs in surprise as Ruth taps her chin with a small smile. “I suppose that’s true. The boy she brought back last summer wasn’t too bad.”

“He told me photography wasn’t a real career and that I was wasting my time,” Amelie deadpans as the oven beeps. She nods at Quinn to put in the trays. “I get that he’s in academia like Char, but what a shitty take.”

“Maybe introducing Quinn to her will break her streak,” Ruth suggests.

Amelie rolls her eyes to humor her. “How do you even know if Quinn is single?”

Ruth eyes him. “Are you?”

Quinn clears his throat, “I am. Newly single though.”

Amelie didn’t know that, and it’s not her place to pry. She grimaces as she pulls him into a side hug. “That settles it, then. I’m keeping Quinn to myself.” Luckily, that gets him to smile.

Just as the oven beeps and Ruth moves to start preparing lasagna, (“Sit down, Quinn. You’re not going anywhere.” Ruth had said with a firm voice as Quinn was trying to leave, not wanting to intrude for lunch), the doorbell rings. Amelie blinks. She has a feeling she knows who’s on the other side of the door.

It’s a slightly smaller group than the night by the fire. Jack, Luke, Adam, Ethan, Alex and the sweet smile of a guy who wasn’t here last time. But Jack has shown her enough pictures and he’s talked about Cole Caufield enough that Amelie is 99% sure it’s him.

“Hey Mimi!”

“Don’t call me that,” she automatically responds to Adam. “You all here for lunch?”

“Ruth invited us,” Luke pipes up. Well, that explains why she was taking out such a large portion of lasagna sheets. “Susie saw Jack getting the mail and kinda mauled him.

“Of course she did,” Amelie steps aside as one by one, they greet her with a quick hug. She hugs Cole for a bit longer. “Cole, right? It’s nice to meet you.”

“Nice to meet you too,” Cole beams. “I’ve heard a lot about you.”

She chuckles softly as they follow everyone else. She tries to ignore Jack behind them, knowing he’s listening in. “Anything Eddy says about me is 100% true. The others you can take with a grain of salt.”

“Even when Jack tells me he thinks you’re one of the prettiest and talented people he’s ever met?”

Amelie’s eyebrows jump up as she looks at Jack, who doesn’t even look ashamed. He even shoots her a quick wink and she’s for sure blushing. She turns back to Cole with a shy grin. “I don’t know about that.”

They walk towards the kitchen, where Ruth is shooing everyone out with the plate of cookies Amelie and Quinn just made. Amelie leads them all outside, squinting against the sun as she quickly grabs a few chairs so everyone has a place to sit. She leans her head on her chin as she focuses on what seems a continuation of a previous conversation about relationships, or lack thereof. She rolls her eyes. Typical. She’s honestly surprised this didn’t come up at the fire the other night in the Hughes backyard.

She munches on a cookie and merely smiles as Jack finds his way to the seat next to hers. He nudges her knee with hers and she bumps him back.

“Hey,” he says softly so that only she can hear him.

“Hi.”

“I like your bow. You look pretty.”

Amelie reaches up to touch the black sheer bow clipped atop her ponytail. “Thank you. Sorry Suz attacked you earlier.”

Jack shrugs, the sunshine painting his cheeks an endearing rosy pink. “Gonna get lunch out of it, aren’t I?”

“You flash your smile at Grandma and I’m pretty sure she’d bake you a cake everyday.”

He only smirks before they both tune back into the conversation. Though from where Jack is sitting, Amelie has a perfect peripheral view of him. He has a Yankees cap on backwards, his curls peeking out at the ends. His summer tan is obvious against the white t-shirt he’s wearing with light-washed jeans.

It’s not the first time that Amelie has noticed how attractive he is. It’s the first time that she has to swallow and force herself to focus on Adam’s voice because she wants to…kiss him. Shit, she really wants to kiss Jack Hughes.

Horrible.

“What do you think, Amelie?” Her head whips at the sound of Luke’s voice.

“What are we talking about?”

Luke smirks and Amelie wants to slap him. “Past relationships, to sum it up. Mostly Adam’s.” And Quinn’s, Amelie fills in in her head, because it’s true, even if it’s unspoken.

“What about them?”

The air suddenly feels a bit heavy, the most solemn it’s been since Luke saw her at the end of his driveway two weeks ago.

“Do you think it’s a thing to lose feelings for someone? Like is it real?”

Some sort of noise erupts out of her mouth before she can stop it. If the guys weren’t intrigued before, they are now, as they fall silent, waiting for her next words. She chooses her next words carefully.

“I think it’s more of an excuse that people use when they don’t want to justify or dig into the real reason why they’re feeling the way they are.” Someone whistles. She thinks it’s Alex, but she’s not 100% sure. Amelie winces. “Sorry, did I just attack someone?”

“Just my ex,” Adam says.

“Oh good. No one here then.” Amelie offers him a sympathetic look. “I’m sorry though. I know how much that sucks to hear.”

“It does.”

“I had to learn that it’s rarely your fault that they supposedly lost feelings. It took me awhile to figure that out, but I did.” She turns to Adam and tries to give him a reassuring smile. “It sucks. Agonizing over everything you could’ve done better and asking yourself why you weren’t enough for them to stick around. At least that’s how it was for me.”

“That’s…kinda exactly how it felt,” Adam admits. “Feels, even now, sometimes.”

Amelie shrugs. “There’s no set timeline for the process of moving on. And it ebbs and flows too. Also no fault in that.”

“You seem awfully knowledgeable about breakups,” Luke states. Amelie catches Ethan’s subtle but pointed glance. How much does she want to tell them about that part of her life?

“A story for another time,” she says with a dry smile. Cooper Volt and his douchebag ways are not a conversation she wants to have before noon. Or really ever. “But I’m serious, Adam. And whoever else needs to hear it. Feelings can shift and feel and look different overtime, but losing them completely? I don’t know. It’s heartbreaking to hear from someone who used to be such a big part of your life.”

“Commitment is scary,” Cole pipes up. “And it’s hard. Especially, I feel like, with what we do.”

It’s like getting a bucket of ice cold water dumped on her when she suddenly remembers who exactly she’s surrounded by.

“Do you even want commitment?” Amelie blinks. “Sorry, that’s harsh. That’s not fair of me to ask.”

“It’s a fair question though, I think.” Jack says. Amelie suddenly feels her hands clam up. “I mean, for me at least, I think it’s changed throughout the years. You know, at the start, like five years ago, when it was still chaotic and still an adjustment period, a relationship probably wasn’t on my mind.”

“But now?” Cole presses.

Jack shrugs. “I think so. But you can’t force it, you know?”

“A relationship would do you well, Jacky.” Luke says, taking a sip of his water. “Don’t know who’d want to deal with you though.” Jack throws his half-filled water bottle at him and Luke squeaks as everyone laughs. Jack nudges Amelie’s knee with a light smile and she has absolutely no idea what to make of that.

“I didn’t know you were dating someone, Adam,” Amelie comments.

Adam shrugs. “It was for most of last season. Met her through a mutual friend of a mutual friend. I thought it was going well. Clearly it didn’t work out.”

“But you tried your best?”

“Of course I did. Well, what I thought was best at the time.”

“Then that’s all you can do,” Amelie curls up in her chair. “Sometimes our best isn’t enough. It sucks to hear, but it’s true. And that’s not on you.” She avidly avoids Jack’s eyes that she can feel boring into the side of her head. She should probably stop talking before she reveals more than she wants to.

Luckily, the conversation steers elsewhere with courtesy to Jack. “Well, what do you look for in someone, Amelie?”

Amelie snorts. “You trying to matchmake for me, Hughes?”

“Maybe.”

Everyone laughs and she puts her chin on her hands in thought. “I mean, tough question.”

“One thing. That shouldn’t be hard.”

“It’s not. Just give me a minute to think. I wasn’t prepared to be talking about our love lives today.” Amelie bites her lip, staring out at the lake in thought. But in reality, it’s an easy answer. “I think, honestly, the biggest thing for me is someone who’s just, kind. Kind to the point where they care about the people around them and how they treat others and the world and….I don’t know. It sounds dumb.”

“It’s not,” Jack says. “Being kind and considerate is underrated, I think. It’s hard to find people like that.”

“Or maybe you’re not looking in the right place,” Alex adds.

“That too.”

Amelie summons some courage. “Well, I’ll flip the question back to you then. And anyone else who wants to answer. What’s one thing you look for in a partner?”

It’s like Jack makes sure she doesn’t break eye contact before answering. “Honestly? Someone I can have fun with and feel completely comfortable around. Which I know isn’t a real trait, but I think if I feel like I don’t have to pretend at all with somebody then they’re worth keeping in my life.”

“That’s quite sweet, Rowdy,” Quinn comments, Jack just shrugs, her eyes still on hers.

Okay, yeah. Amelie needs space. Or water. Or three shots of vodka.

The universe listens to her, because Ruth is suddenly calling them all in. Amelie bolts out of her seat and rushes in to help set up utensils. Thankfully, no one outwardly calls her out on it as they all trickle in after her. The conversation shifts to easier topics, and she relishes in being more of an observer than a contributor.

Along with the delicious lasagna, Ruth somehow found time to make some brownies which Amelie is almost sure is not allowed in any of their diet plans. Nonetheless, she watches them devour the gooey treats and shower Ruth in praise. She herself has one before standing up to put dishes away. She and her grandmother stop any of them, either with their eyes or words, from getting up and they all reluctantly sink in their seats and continue their conversations. Ruth asked them about going to Michigan a few minutes ago and they’re still on that, with Cole and Alex talking up Wisconsin even though no one asked.

Amelie’s putting the last dish in the dishwasher when someone’s voice in the kitchen causes her to yelp in surprise. She whips around to see Jack’s wince. “Jesus, Jack. Warn a girl next time.”

“Sorry,” he comes around the counter. “I just wanted to see if you needed any help, but it seems like you got it covered.”

“Grandma let you get away?”

“I might have told her I was gonna use the bathroom,” he admits.

Amelie snorts, shutting the dishwasher. “Why lie?”

“I wanted to see you without everyone’s eyes on us.”

When someone just says that, so honestly, almost rushed out as if he wasn’t thinking of saying it in the first place but it just slipped out, how is she supposed to react, really?

She resorts to what she knows best. Apathy. “Well, here I am.”

“Here you are. Quinn told me you taught him how to make those cookies.”

“I did,” a smile peeks out at that. “He did pretty well. And we made a lot, so please take them with you when you guys leave.”

“Kicking us out so soon?”

“No,” she sighs. “But as much as she’s gonna pretend not to, Grandma doesn’t have as much energy anymore, so I will at some point in the near future gently kick all of you out so she can rest.”

“No worries,” Jack says. “We have plans to head out on the boat anyways. You wanna join?”

She actually does want to, but she already had her own plans to have a day for herself, and those days are important. “I think I’m good. I’ll leave you boys to it. But thank you for the offer.”

“Anytime.” They’re practically touching now, but Amelie doesn’t mind. She doesn’t ever feel like Jack is encroaching on her space. “Earlier, outside, when we were talking about relationships…”

“What about them?”

If he catches her clipped tone, he doesn’t take note. Instead, he tilts his head to the side in curiosity. “You mentioned wanting someone that’s kind.”

“I did.”

“A bit of a low bar, no?”

She scoffs, leaning her back against the kitchen counter. She crosses her arms and looks him straight in the eye. “Well, maybe I’ve just dated some shitty people.”

He holds the eye contact steady. She’s not sure why it surprises her. “Maybe you have.”

Despite herself, she’s amused. “You’re awfully nosy sometimes, you know that?”

“Not the first time I’ve heard it.”

“Does it usually work for you? Being nosy?”

“I call it just being interested.”

She swallows, deciding if she wants to push. She takes note of the voices in the other room. If she wants to push, she needs to do it fast.

Amelie’s 99% sure this is where her and Jack are the most alike. They’re stubborn and can never back down from a challenge.

She steps even closer to him where she thinks she catches a whiff of his deodorant. Jack’s eyes are still trained on her, passive, but with something in them that she can’t quite read. “I did, by the way.”

“Hm?”

“Date someone shitty.”

“I’m sorry about that.” He sounds sincere about it.

“Not your fault.”

“Not yours either.”

She chuckles, “Debatable.”

“Nah,” a smile curls at his lips and she thinks it’s beautiful. “Don’t think you’ve done anything wrong in your life.”

“Does the charm usually work for you?”

He lets out a loud laugh. The sound of it spreads warmth on her skin. “You tell me.”

Oh. That’s a challenge if Amelie’s ever heard one. But even with his close proximity, this building tension of sorts that’s been present ever since they’ve met and his watchful but kind eyes, waiting for the next move, she’s still not sure.

Fuck it.

She kisses him anyway.

Jack responds immediately, his hands finding a home on her hips in a way that has her smiling into his lips. She thinks he’s smiling too, but she pulls away too quickly to really know. He is grinning when she pulls away though, a sparkle in his eye she hasn’t seen quite yet.

He pouts playfully and she wants to kiss him again. But she restrains herself and glares at him instead. “What’s the pout for?”

“What’s the glare for?” He shoots back, squeezing her hips lightly. “You kissed me yet I feel like you’re about to accuse me of killing Suzie.”

“Suzie would probably kill you first,” she replies absentmindedly, before stepping away. Mostly so she doesn’t lose control again and kiss him.

Amelie might be starting to question her decision, but Jack’s smile is easy. Light. “You gonna let me kiss you again?”

She snorts, but it’s more fond than anything. “Next time.”

He sticks his bottom lip out in displeasure, but he backs away. “I’m holding you to that.”

She follows him back to the kitchen with a light pep in her step paired with an alarm bell in her mind.

day twenty - jack

Jack automatically smiles when Clementine Sandoval’s face appears on his phone screen. “Hey Clee.”

“Jacky!” She exclaims. “You look tan.”

He gasps in delight. “Really? Thank you.”

His pseudo-older sister rolls her eyes, “Nevermind. I take it back. How are you? What’s up? How’s Michigan? Where are Q and Lukey?”

He chuckles at her onslaught of questions, a pang of guilt in his heart because he hasn’t called her that much since he left New Jersey mid-June. To be fair, he didn’t want to interrupt her trip to visit her new boyfriend in Switzerland — Jack still has to remind himself sometimes that his captain is dating someone who he’s considered a sister ever since he can remember. He loves it, but the fact that Nico could basically become his brother-in-law is a fact he still hasn’t wrapped his head around.

But that pang of guilt washes away quickly, like it always does, as he looks at her warm smile. “I’m good. Michigan’s great. Quinn’s out getting groceries and Luke’s probably still napping. Are you busy?”

“Not at all. I’m just making dinner. I actually do miss you guys at the apartment a lot.”

Jack grins. “We miss you a lot too, Clee. Wish you were here.”

“So what’s up?”

“Hm?”

“You’re chewing on your drawstrings. You only do that when something’s on your mind.”

He lets the drawstrings fall from his mouth as he narrows his eyes. “How do you know that?”

She snorts, “Because I know you, Jack. What’s going on?”

The sound of her sink water running fills the air as Jack takes a deep breath. “I met a girl.”

He snickers as Clementine, with her back towards the camera, freezes. Slowly, she turns back around. “You met a girl?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay,” she starts chopping some garlic. “Tell me about her.”

“Her name’s Amelie. She’s a year younger than me. Just graduated from Michigan. She knows Luke, actually, used to photograph the hockey games.”

“She knows Luke?”

“Yeah. Her grandparents just bought a place two houses down from us and she was walking the dog one day and…yeah.”

Clementine hums, clearing the chopped garlic off her knife and into a small bowl. “What’s she like?”

“She’s a bit quieter, but quick and sarcastic as hell when you get to know her. She’s creative, because, you know, photographer. She’s really pretty. Hang on, I’ll send you a picture,” Jack does just that, sending one he took of her and Adam the other night, waiting for Clementine to look at it before he continues. “She’s always saying something really interesting and cool. I don’t know. We’ve been hanging out a lot the last two weeks and she’s just, really great.”

“You met two weeks ago?”

“More or less.” Jack bites his lip, trying to read the abnormally-unreadable look on her face. “What?”

“Nothing. She just graduated? Any plans after post-grad?”

“Said she’s talking to a few NHL teams for a photographer gig.”

Her eyebrows shoot up. “For real?”

“Yup.”

“Damn,” Clementine says. “That’s awesome. So what? You like her?”

“I think so?”

“It’s a yes or no question.”

“Fine. Yes. I do.”

She smirks. “That wasn’t so hard, was it now?” Jack glares at his phone as she giggles. “Okay. Does she like you back?”

“She kissed me the other day.”

“Oh,” Clementine’s eyes sparkle and Jack feels bashful for some reason. “Did she now? So she must.”

“Hopefully.”

She gives him a look. “Jack.”

“What?”

“You’re being annoying on purpose.”

“I’m not being annoying,” Jack responds instinctively. Okay, maybe he is. “I just, I don’t know. I haven’t felt like this in awhile. Maybe ever.”

“Felt like what, exactly?”

And this is why Jack called the older brunette. She pushes him in a way that isn’t overbearing, but just the right amount where she’s not gonna take getting brushed off. Sometimes, Jack thinks he gets away with brushing things off too easily. Blame it on growing up with two brothers. Luckily, Clementine doesn’t let that happen.

“Felt this excited about someone.”

“That’s a good thing, Jack.” She says.

“Yeah.” Suddenly, it’s like a dam breaks. He hasn’t really talked to anyone about how exactly he feels about Amelie yet. “She’s…..I think I really like her, Clee. Like, I just want to be around her all the time. When I’m around her, I just, I don’t know. I can’t stop smiling.

“She must be some girl.”

“She is,” he responds confidently.

“So now what? You two have kissed. What’s next? Labels or no?”

“I don’t know.”

“You don’t know.”

“No. I don’t.” Silence. Clementine stops the movement on her end and looks at Jack. He swallows. It’s the kind of look that she only pulls out when she’s about to say something he might not want to hear. “What?” He says defensively.

“Nothing. Well, that’s not true. It’s okay to not know. You guys literally just met. Really. Just…be careful. I’m sure she’s lovely, but I don’t..you seem to really like her. I’d hate to see you get hurt over this.”

“I won’t,” Jack says confidently. “Clee, you know me. I don’t get my heart broken.”

“You also don’t get like this about girls,” Clementine points out. “And you know how I know that? You’ve known Amelie for two weeks and you’re already telling me about her. It took you three months for you to even mention to me that you had a girlfriend last time. Just…be careful, okay? You’re only in Michigan for so much longer.”

“I will,” Jack says.

Clementine only nods, before they switch the conversation back to her trip to Switzerland. But the rest of the conversation, Jack can’t help but keep seeing Clementine’s worried look in her mind.

Clementine’s usually right. He hopes she’s wrong this time.

day twenty three - amelie

Amelie takes a deep breath before accepting a good luck hug from her grandparents and shutting the front door. She smiles at the sight of Jack’s car and slides over into his passenger seat with practiced ease.

“You really didn’t have to do this.”

“We’re literally going to the same place.”

“Still.”

Jack backs out of her driveway with an easy smile. “You nervous?”

Like, yeah. But she shrugs. “Even if I am, nothing I can do about it now.”

“You’ll get the job,” he says confidently. “I know it.”

“Thanks for the vote of confidence,” she chuckles. “Where are Quinn and Luke? Don’t you all practice together?”

“Yeah. I forced them to take another car.”

“You didn’t have to kick them out.”

“I think I did.” She just gives him a look. Jack smiles easily. “Don’t worry about it. Remind me of the address again?”

She wordlessly connects her phone to his car and puts in the address of the cafe she’s meeting Heather at. 47 minute drive and she has to be there at 10 a.m. sharp. She’ll have around ten minutes to spare.

It’s clear they both woke up not long ago, content to spend most of the drive in comfortable silence with her occasional humming to whatever song she has playing from her phone. It’s mostly softer tunes to accompany the earlier hour, Maggie Rogers, Lizzy McAlpine and Noah Kahan appearing the most frequently. She’s 99% sure this isn’t close to Jack’s style of music at all, but he doesn’t seem to mind.

As he turns off the highway, she takes a deep breath, smoothing down her silk navy short-sleeved blouse she’s deemed her good-luck shirt — she wore it during her first interview with the NHL months ago. Luckily, it’s different people this time.

“I’m serious,” Jack says. “You’re gonna be great and you’re gonna get that job and get the fuck out of Michigan.”

“Yeah. Yeah, I am.” They pull up to the cafe and she turns to face him with a grateful smile. “Thank you for driving me.”

“I’ll come by as soon as practice is done.”

She waves him off. “Take your time.”

He leans in to kiss her cheek sweetly. “Good luck. You’re gonna kill it.”

Her stomach is flipping now for a whole different reason. She quickly opens the passenger door and looks at Jack’s sweet smile one more time before shutting it.

The interview goes…so well. So well that she has a job by the end of it, with a promised contract being sent to her email within the next hour. But she barely has to answer any questions before they’re asking her if she’ll take it. It catches Amelie by complete shock and happiness that it takes so much for her to keep her cool in front of Josh, her possible future manager, and Sasha, the recruiter she’s been in touch with this whole time.

All of her hard work has accounted for something? She wants to pinch herself as she shakes both of their hands and watches them walk out.

But something settles in her stomach when she looks down at the notes she took. In her cursive-like handwriting.

Main coverage teams: Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils

Staring at the last word on the page, she swallows. The Devils. She’s gonna be photographing Jack.

Realistically, she knew that this always would’ve been a possibility. But she never let herself entertain the idea.

But now it’s real. And it’s terrifying. And she kissed Jack eight days ago. She wants to throw up.

With shaky hands, she texts Jack that she’s done. He doesn’t respond right away so she takes a deep breath, tapping her fingers against her coffee cup, her brain going a million miles an hour.

She’s responding to her family’s texts before Jack’s name flashes through with the alert of a call. “Hello?”

“Well?” Jack’s voice echoes through her ears. “Did you get it?”

“Come pick me up and find out,” she tries to tease. She hopes he can’t detect her shaky voice over the phone.

“Amelie,” he whines. “Come on. You can’t leave me hanging like that.”

She lets out a quiet chuckle. “Do you think I’d be this happy if I didn’t get it?”

A pause. And then, “Let’s fucking go, baby! I knew you had it in the bag.”

“Come pick me up so I can tell you more about it,” she mutters

“You got it.”

11 minutes later, she sees Jack park by the curb and she walks out of the cafe, willing her hands to stop sweating. He quickly comes around the car and gives her a giant hug. She laughs as he lifts her up.

“So,” he sings as he starts the engine. “Do you know with what team? Or teams?”

Amelie hopes her poker face is intact. “Actually, not yet. That’s the only thing they haven’t fully settled on yet. And I might not know until, like, a month before I start.”

He tuts. “That’s a bit annoying. They just expect you to move to wherever on such short notice?”

She swallows roughly, hoping he doesn’t notice. “I guess. They said they can help me find housing though, which is helpful.”

He hums, before shaking her thigh with a laugh. “Amelie. This is amazing. You should be so proud of yourself.”

“Thanks, Jack.” Instead of turning onto the highway, Jack takes a right. “Where are we going?”

“Do you have anywhere else to be today?”

“Not until like, 4.”

“Perfect.”

She has to laugh out loud when the USA Hockey arena comes into view. “You forget something?”

“No,” he says simply. “Have you ever skated before?”

“I photographed your younger brother at Michigan.”

“But that doesn’t mean you’ve skated.”

Fair. “I have. I’m not very good though.”

He kills the engine and flashes her a charming smile. “Come on. To celebrate.”

Amelie lets Jack charm the person working the rentals and watches him tie the skates on her feet, smiling softly as he does it carefully, making sure they’re tight enough. She takes his hand as she steps onto the ice, wobbling a bit but quickly gaining her balance. There’s no one else at this particular rink, which she’s thankful for. People would have questions, and she doesn’t have any of the answers.

She lets herself laugh and have fun as Jack spins them around. She takes a deep breath, letting the smells and sounds of an empty hockey arena fill her senses again.

This is gonna be her future for the next while. If she thinks too hard, she can picture herself in Newark, in the Prudential Center, with Jack across from her, just like this. She swallows at the sight of Jack’s bright eyes.

Main coverage teams: Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils

“You’re amazing,” Jack says a bit later, as they’re gliding in the middle of the ice, her hands in his, facing each other. “I’m serious. You’re going to crush it.”

She tries not to tear up, looking down at their skates. “I’m really excited,” she says. “This is, kind of, everything I’ve been working towards.”

“I know,” Jack smiles, tugging at her hands lightly. “You nervous at all?”

“A bit. Is that weird?”

He snorts. “No. I was scared shitless my rookie year, despite trying to act like hot shit.”

“I don’t doubt that.”

“But you’re not me, because you’re healthily humble and you have the talent to back up your skill. It’s okay to be nervous, but it’s all gonna work out just fine.”

She hums, hands boldly reaching out to cup his face. She only has so much time left. She swears he softens into her touch. “Quite good at the pep talks, huh?”

“Not usually,” he murmurs, leaning closer as his lips ghost hers. “But, I don’t know. You seem to bring out a different side of me.”

“That’s sappy as shit.”

“I can be sappy.”

“Sure you can.” She hums as he presses a delicate kiss on her lips. She chuckles airily as he pulls away only to start peppering kisses on her cheeks.

For a bit, Amelie squashes her overthinking and just breathes in everything Jack Hughes.

(Unbeknownst to both Amelie and Jack, Jim sees them from the offices upstairs. He smiles to himself, as he watches his son spin the brunette girl around the ice, the joy palpable on both their faces)

day twenty five - jack

He doesn’t even bother to come up with an excuse anymore when he shows up on Stanley and Ruth’s front door the next morning. He accepts a cup of coffee when Ruth tells him Amelie’s in the shower, chatting casually with them both about the weather, golf, his family and the upcoming season.

When Amelie comes down the stairs, she doesn’t even look surprised, simply waving before tossing her hair up and grabbing her bag. She mentioned over text that she just had to run some “boring” errands today. He jumped at the chance to join her.

With some argument, she relents and lets him drive. He has to stop himself from looking over at her, overwhelmed at…her. Just her.

The grocery store first to get groceries for Stanley and Ruth, which causes Jack to swallow because God, the way Amelie takes care of the people in her life reminds him of Clementine, who always saw the best in Jack before he was anything.

Then a stop by at a farm to table place for lunch where Amelie says she’s been dying to try. Then Target, then CVS, then the bank. They never really hold hands, but they’re always in each other’s orbit comfortably. That’s enough for him.

Before being done for the day, a quick detour to a small beach that Amelie claims has “incredible sunsets.” He follows her obediently as she jumps out of the car with her film camera. The sunset is beautiful, but, and it’s so cliche and gross and he would get chirped to hell if his friends could read his mind, Amelie’s prettier.

He can’t help but take out his phone to take a picture of her back against the cotton candy sky. He always posts some sort of a summer dump on his Instagram. Maybe this picture will go in there.

day thirty two - amelie

“Who’s gonna be there again?”

“Honestly, who knows at this point?” Jack’s voice floods her ears through her airpods as she takes Susie on a walk and Jack’s driving back from who knows where.

“And this is tonight?”

“Yup. Because it’s someone’s birthday? Ethan’s, maybe?”

“Not Eddy,” she responds automatically. “His birthday’s in June.”

“I forget how close you two are.”

“To be fair, the only reason I remember is because he’s like, five days older than I am,” Amelie shushes Susie, who’s barking at a squirrel. “And you’re all gathering at some sort of sports bar at fucking Ann Arbor of all places to… celebrate? Reminisce?”

She can practically hear Jack’s pout. “You don’t have to come if you don’t want to.”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” she chides gently. “I, just, I’m just confused about-”

“Confused about what?”

“About why you’d want me there.”

“Why wouldn’t I want you there?” Jack says softly.

She swallows, playing with Susie’s leash. “Okay.”

“Okay?”

“Yeah.”

“Awesome,” she knows Jack’s smiling through the phone and she can’t help but smile as well, even though she feels a pit forming in her stomach. “I’m DDing because I lost a bet against Luke on the course yesterday, so you can go as hard as you’d like.” A rustle on his end of the phone. “I gotta go, but I’ll see you later?”

“What time are you coming?”

“Around 7:30?”

“Perfect.”

“See you soon.”

Amelie hears him pull up at 7:23 as she’s scrolling on her phone. A deep breath before opening the door and she doesn’t expect Jack to be walking up her steps.

“Oh,” she blinks. “Hi.”

Jack smiles up at her. “Hey.”

She looks beyond his shoulder and sees some movement in the backseat of the running car. “You didn’t have to step out.”

“Feels impolite just honking.” She lets him wrap her in a quick hug before she slips into the passenger seat. She turns around immediately to smile at Ethan, Luke and Dylan. “Hi boys. You sure none of you wanna take the front seat?”

“We are under strict orders from Jack that as long as you’re in the car, we will be banished to the back,” Luke snickers.

Jack blindly reaches back to smack his brother’s leg. “I’m already driving you losers. Don’t make me regret it.”

Luke gasps. “I’m not the one who lost the bet.” Another slap to the leg from Jack and another yelp from Luke.

Once they reach the bar and Jack somehow finds street parking, the boys pile out quickly and head to the bar. Her and Jack stray behind, and he locks the car before swinging an arm around her shoulder, sneaking a kiss to her temple.

She shouldn’t, but she leans into it. Leans into him. The bustling bar is coming into view and she’s getting nervous.

He pokes at her side. “What’s wrong?”

“Nothing.”

He offers her a skeptical look but lets it go. “You’ll know most of the people there. No need to be nervous.”

“I’m not nervous,” she lies.

He snorts, but doesn’t respond. He does pull her closer to his side though.

Immediately when they walk in and Amelie realizes she has been here before. Not many times, maybe only three or four, but enough for the environment itself to not be unfamiliar. She surveys the scene while letting Jack steer them both towards a corner where both people she knows and doesn’t know are gathering. The first person she makes eye contact with happens to be Carina Scholl, a girl she went to high school with. Because of course. This state is so damn small. Before she can spiral over it, Amelie’s quickly distracted by the sound of Mark Estapa’s voice.

And then it’s like a floodgate opens. Members of the Michigan Men’s hockey team, present and past, greet her, standing in a sort of messy line, almost like they’re queuing to hug her. It starts with Mark, then Rutger and Kienan and Luca. Then Mackie and Nolan, who she hasn’t seen in far too long and didn’t realize she missed until now.

She feels quite touched that they all seem so excited to see her, wrinkling her nose when Rutger pulls her ponytail lightly. When everyone calms down, Jack slides her favorite cider towards her. She smiles at him in thanks and he just winks before being pulled into a conversation about hockey that honestly has Amelie immediately tuning them out.

She ventures to familiar territory — a booth housing Ethan and Luke — and they happily let her slide between them, introducing her to the faces she doesn’t recognize as she politely nods. She does brighten up when one of the girls, Sarah, she notes, says she recognizes her from her photography. (“I was on the gymnastics team. My family might have one of your photos framed in the house.”).

Photography and Michigan. Those are topics Amelie can talk about.

After a bit, the boys slide out and she finds herself gravitating towards Sarah and two of her friends Amelie doesn’t know, content with sitting back and listening into their conversation, with some comments here and there. She spots two more girls she went to high school with — Shannon and Abby — and swallows roughly. She’s pulled back in the conversation with a call of her name from Madison.

“I saw that you came in with Jack Hughes,” Madison says. Immediately, Amelie wants this conversation to end. But Madison’s smile is curious, not malicious. “Are you two…you know?”

Amelie blinks, stomach suddenly dropping. “Are we…”

“Together,” Sarah finishes with a teasing eye roll. “I don’t know why you didn’t just say it, Maddy.”

“I didn’t want to be impolite!” Madison exclaims as Ellie, the third girl, laughs. “I mean, we just met. It’s none of my business, really.”

“We’re not,” Amelie says, softly but firmly, even though she wants to crawl under the table right now. “Friends through Luke, I guess. Found out my grandparents live by him and Quinn’s place just a few weeks ago.”

“You hadn’t met beforehand?”

“Nope.”

“Huh,” Ellie says. Amelie follows Ellie’s eyeline to where Jack is talking to Adam. With a High Noon in one hand, the other shoved into the pocket of his jeans and that stupid backwards cap on his head, Amelie can’t look away. “I wouldn’t have predicted that. It seems like you’ve known each other forever.”

Amelie laughs shakily. “He’s like that with everyone.”

The girls let it go, but Amelie can’t. Is it that obvious to people? Should it be? Is he like this with everyone? It wouldn’t surprise her if he was. Just because they’ve kissed, doesn’t mean she’s anything special.

After a bit, she excuses herself to go grab another drink. If Jack is also at the bar as she approaches, that’s just a coincidence.

It’s interesting. She simultaneously wants to be away from him, especially because it seems like “Main coverage teams: Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils” is flashing through her mind at all times. But she also wants to be around him because he makes her feel at ease

She nods at Luca, who Jack was talking to, with a wry smile. “Luca.”

“Amelie,” he sings in the same tone. Amelie considers herself closer to the younger Fantilli, but Luca’s constant positive energy was always a welcome sight when she entered Yost. “You look beautiful.”

“That’s kind of you to say.”

“I feel like you’re about to yell at me for not answering the question again.”

“That was one time,” she says dryly. “Let it go.”

Jack looks between the two of them with interest. “Amelie being a strict TA? That doesn’t surprise me.”

“She wasn’t strict, perse,” Luca teases. “Just didn’t want to deal with our shit.”

“Because I dealt with it enough at the rink,” Amelie says. She brightens up momentarily when Jack shoves another cider in her hand. Without thinking, she presses a quick kiss on his cheek as a thank you. Luca, to his credit, just raises his eyebrows before Gavin beckons him elsewhere.

She pokes at Jack’s chest. “You trying to loosen me up? You didn’t have to buy me another.”

“I told you to go crazy, didn’t I?”

“I think I’ve spotted three people here who went to my high school.”

Jack just raises an eyebrow casually. “No shit. Did you say hi?”

Amelie snorts. “No.”

“Why not?”

She gives him a look and realizes he doesn’t understand. She doesn’t want to get into it. “I just don’t feel like it.”

“You sure?” He nods at something behind her and she turns around, making eye contact with Carina.

She turns back around to face Jack again. “I’m sure.”

(She’s not. She’s not sure about anything all of a sudden. It’s starting to feel like too much for her. But that’s not Jack’s problem to deal with)

“Okay,” he stops pushing. “Who should we tackle talking to next?”

“Didn’t know this was a team effort,” she teases lightly, the weight on her shoulders deflating by the second.

He readjusts his hair under his hat with a roguish grin. “Hey. I dragged you here. And these are mostly Luke’s friends. Of course we’re in this together.”

She rolls her eyes. Because he’s a liar. But she humors him, nodding over to a group consisting of Rutger, his girlfriend Kayleigh, Nolan, Mackie and Mark. “They seem safe.” Jack snorts, but obliges, letting her lead the way.

More time passes, and Amelie’s buzzed. Jack mutters in her ear that they’re probably gonna head out within the next 20 minutes or so, which she could’ve predicted, as their crowd is getting smaller and smaller. Adam already smacked a kiss on her cheek as a farewell. She figures she should probably go pee before the drive back.

After a quick trip to the bathroom, she walks out and pauses suddenly in her tracks. She watches a girl blatantly flirt with Jack, which is fine, it is. The frog she has in her throat isn’t anything. The prickling she feels in her spine is because of the heat, not because of the girl’s hand placed on his bicep. She can’t even let herself feel any sort of satisfaction when Jack casually shifts himself a bit away from her politely.

It suddenly all hits her in the face. It’s like the bubble she’s been living in for the last however many days has immediately popped.

Of course he’s being flirted with. This probably happens everytime he goes out. How could she be so stupid?

Jack’s never going to be anything more than a friend. He’s based out of New Jersey for most of the year — which, to be fair, Amelie might also be in a few months, which he still doesn’t know — and Amelie’s 99% sure it just wouldn’t work. They’re too…he’s him and she’s who she is and this isn’t how it all works.

Sure, she kissed him first. But she didn’t mean for it to go this far. And sure, he kissed her back. But he’s one of the biggest up and coming superstars in the league that she’s about to work for. To some degree, she knows how this is gonna end. She’s lived through it.

(Sometimes, she’s relieved that MLB never got back to her. The idea of having to photograph Cooper almost makes bile creep up her throat._

She has to stop this before it crashes at their feet.

Amelie takes a deep breath and straightens her shoulders, before making her way back to Jack. He looks towards her and brightens up, excusing himself from the girl before jumping off his stool with her jacket she asked him to hold while she went to the bathroom.

“Ready to go?” He mutters.

Amelie nods stiffly. “Where are the others?”

“I told them to wait by the car. Do you need to say goodbye to anybody else?”

She looks around. “No. I did my rounds before I went to the bathroom.” He hums and she follows him out of the bar. ignoring his outstretched hand.

(She misses the flash of hurt that passes by Jack’s eyes. But it’s gone as quickly as it came)

“Thanks again for coming with me,” Jack says, his voice suddenly sounding so loud contrasting with the quiet Ann Arbor air. “Really. I know it’s not your scene but I appreciate it anyways.”

“You’re welcome,” she says, hoping he doesn’t pick up on her sudden change of mood.

He does, furrowing his eyebrows. “Is everything alright?”

“Fine. Everything is fine.”

“You’re lying to me.”

She doesn’t quite snap back, but it’s close enough to it. “How would you know that?”

He blanches slightly, but they’re at the car. So he just wordlessly opens the door for her. She smiles softly at Ethan, who ruffles her hair from the back and snorts at Dylan and Luke, who are sleeping with their mouths wide open.

The drive goes by extremely quickly yet painfully slow at the same time. Amelie actively avoids eye contact with Jack, busying staring out her window and making mindless conversation with Ethan. If he feels the tension. he ignores it.

Jack pulls up to his place first, rolling his eyes as Luke, Dylan and Ethan clamber into the house. As soon as the door shuts, Jack turns to her. She reluctantly turns to him.

“Are you okay?” His eyes hold so much concern. It makes Amelie bite her lip. “And please be honest with me.”

“I’m fine, Jack,” she croaks out. She’s a bit tipsy. She’s very tired. Her resolve is crumbling fast. She feels like she’s running out of time. “I think I’m just overstimulated.”

“I’ll drive you home,” he says softly. He places a gentle kiss on her forehead and it takes everything in Amelie not to let her eyes tear up.

He’s barely backed out of his driveway when she can’t take it anymore. “Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils.”

Silence. “What?” He says.

“Rangers, Islanders, Flyers, Devils,” she repeats, trying to keep her voice steady. “Those are the teams I’m covering.”

He parks in her grandparents’ driveway, killing the engine. “Did you just find this out today?”

She squeezes her eyes shut. “No. I’ve known since I got the official offer.”

The silence washes over her like the most destructive tidal wave. “You lied to me?” He whispers.

“I’m so-”

“Why did you lie to me?” He asks in a hurt voice.

“Jack-”

“Were you ever gonna tell me?” She snaps her mouth shut. That gives him his answer. He swallows roughly, running a hand through his hair. “So what? You were gonna just walk in during media day and pretend we haven’t met before?”

“That’s not fair,” she manages to get out.

“Pretend we haven’t kissed before?” Jack presses on.

That makes the fire in Amelie’s stomach flame. “We’ve known each other for like, a month, Jack. I don’t owe you anything.”

He scoffs. “You don’t think so?” She flinches at his harsh tone and he softens a bit with a sigh. “I just don’t understand why you didn’t tell me.”

There’s plenty of reasons why. Many of which Amelie doesn’t want to say out loud. She settles for: “I mean, would it have mattered?” Her voice cracks. “You were always going to go back to Jersey and I was always gonna leave Michigan and whatever this was would’ve only lasted for so long.”

“Whatever this is?” Jack repeats, tilting his head back against the headrest in frustration. “So what? You thought that we’d go back to our regular lives and all of this would just…be forgotten?”

“I don’t know,” she says, frustrated.

“But you clearly thought about it.”

“Of course I did,” she squeezes her eyes shut. “Jack, you’re…you’re Jack Hughes. I don’t necessarily care about it like that but I know you have a franchise on your shoulders and you’re the best of the best and we met under weird coincidences and I’m glad we have, believe me, but this always had a timer on it.”

“What exactly is ‘this?’” The roughness in his voice has Amelie simultaneously feeling like she wants to cry and scream. Jack laughs humorlessly. “And it’s funny you bring up all that shit now, considering you never for once cared about who I was and all of that since the day we met.”

“I don’t care,” Amelie insists. “In fact, it’s probably the thing about you I care the least about, in the nicest way possible. But whether we both like it or not, it’s a huge part of who you are. And I don’t know if I…”

“If you?”

“If I have a place in your life when it comes to that.”

“Because of what I do? Because of my job?”

Amelie scoffs. “Stop trying to underplay what you do and the impact you have on the league, Jack. I may have just met you a month ago but I, in some way, work in the same fucking industry you do. I’m not stupid.”

“I know you’re not stupid,” he rolls his eyes. “You’re probably one of the smartest people I’ve met in my life. I’m not trying to underplay anything. At the end of the day, hockey is just my job. LIke photography is yours. I don’t see how that has anything to do with us.”

“Well, maybe that’s exactly the problem.”

Jack huffs. “It’s my life. Shouldn’t I have a say in if I want you in it or not?”

And sure, Amelie thinks, Jack has a point, but so does she, even if she’s not explaining it well. She turns in her seat to fully face him and tries a different angle. Tries to get him to understand. “Have you thought about this at all? Like, sat down and really thought about what’s gonna happen when we both leave Michigan? Jack, you know I don’t want to come back unless I have to.”

“What does that have to do with us at all?”

“Jack,” she deadpans. “You love this place. You feel the most comfortable here, you told me that yourself. All I want to do is get out here and all you want to do is stay.” She deflates. “You really didn’t think about the future of any of this?”

“Yes! No. Maybe?” Jack raises his voice in frustration. “I just-I enjoyed, enjoy, spending time together. You kind of make me forget how to think when I’m around you in the best way possible. And I want to be around you all the time. Isn’t that enough?”

“I still don’t even know what we are! Friends? Friends who kiss sometimes? Dating? Hooking up because it’s convenient?”

He blanches. It’s the most hurt he’s looked this whole conversation. “Amelie-” he whispers.

“I know I’m being unfair, but please try to understand my reasoning,” she wipes her tears with the sleeve of her top. “I was already up for this job before I met you. And then I met you. And then I thought, oh, maybe I do care about where I end up. Wouldn’t that be nice and convenient? But we’ve known each other for a month. And I’m not gonna let someone I’ve only known for so long dictate the start of this really important moment for me.”

“I wouldn’t have ever asked you to do that,” Jack says meekly. “I know how important your career is to you.”

“And I believe that,” Amelie softens with a swallow. They’re not getting anywhere productive. “I-I’m sorry, Jack. I shouldn’t have lied to you.”

“But you did,” he says. He runs his hand roughly through his hair again. The curls are beginning to become very unruly. “Was this whole month just, I don’t know, were we not on the same page?”

“Maybe we weren’t,” she bites her quivering lip. “I like you, Jack. I do. But I can’t…I can’t do this. Us. Whatever this is.”

Silence, before his voice cracks. “Now or ever?”

“I don’t know,” she sniffles. “I’m sorry.” She cries, rubbing her eyes roughly with the palms of her hand. She knows this is all her fault. She knows this isn’t the only thing he kept from him. She knows that she’s been cautious telling him important things about herself this whole time, where he’s been nothing but fearless and honest. She knows she fucked up.

But she can’t say any of that out loud. He wouldn’t get it. And maybe she doesn’t really want him to. Isn’t ready for him to

She feels his hand on her cheek, which causes her to cry harder, her tears falling cascading onto his fingers. Through blurry vision, she can see him swallowing roughly. “Can I say one last thing?”

She can’t help but let out a weak laugh. “Sure.”

“A few weeks ago, you asked me if the top was a lonely place to be. And you know, it can be a lot,” he admits. Her heart aches at how vulnerable he’s being. “My brothers and teammates and friends understand mostly, but it’s not the same. Y-you’re the first person in a long time who's made me feel like it doesn’t have to be lonely.”

That causes Amelie to cry even harder. Every part of her is fighting her to fight for him. To keep groveling, even though it doesn’t even seem like he wants that, which is somehow even more heartbreaking. To fill in the gaps for him about why she can’t fully let go and let him in. But she can’t. “I-I’m sorry I lied to you. And I’m sorry it had to be this way,” she croaks out.

“Me too,” he says, backing away slightly. She misses his touch instantly. “I-I’ll give you some space and n-not contact you for awhile. Um, you have my number. When…if you ever wanna reach me, you know how to.”

Her heart splices in half completely. She’s the one who lied to him and he’s the one offering space. Amelie knows she’s selfish for asking her final question, but she does it anyways. “And you’d pick up?”

Jack laughs with a watery smile, “Every time.”

It takes all her willpower to not kiss him one last time. She unbuckles her seatbelt and rushes into her grandparents house. She closes the front door and leans her back on it, sliding down and muffles her cries into her hand.

day thirty three - jack

Everything hurts.

That’s the first thing Jack thinks when his eyes blearily open with the sun. His eyes hurt from crying too many freaking times the last few days. His ribs hurt from where Luke checked him into the boards yesterday. It wasn’t even a particularly hard hit, but Jack’s head was anywhere but the ice and he didn’t see it coming until it was too late.

And his heart just…hurts.

Luckily, they have the day off today so he can sulk without feeling too guilty. Maybe he’ll take the boat out into the water by himself and just lay there. He hears some voices downstairs and squeezes his eyes shut to try and decipher them. Quinn, Luke, Dylan and Ethan. The latter two obviously don’t know him as well, but Jack knows them well enough that they’d probably actually be really nice about Jack’s situation. Especially because Ethan’s close to…yeah.

Jack launches himself out of bed, quickly brushes his teeth and splashes some water in his face before stumbling downstairs, his pace faster once he smells a fresh pot of coffee.

“Mornin’” Jack croaks out, nodding at Dylan and Ethan who are sitting around the island with Quinn, who just slaps his shoulder in greeting. Luke wordlessly pours out a mug for him and Jack smiles at him gratefully.

“You look like shit,” Luke says bluntly. Jack would face wash him for that if he had the energy. And if he was wrong.

“Luke.” Quinn chastises.

Jack waves his older brother off. “It’s fine. He’s right.” His eye catches the sight of an envelope at the end of the table. “What’s that?”

It’s silent for a few seconds too long until Ethan clears his throat. “Uh, Amelie said she developed the shots for her film camera. Dropped some by that she said you guys might want.”

Jack swallows with a curt nod, chugging the whole cup of coffee in one go. He nods at Luke to pour him more.

“Do you want to talk about it?” Quinn asks tentatively.

Immediately, Jack wants to shoot that down. But then he looks up, and he sees all four of them looking at him with varying degrees of worry in their eyes. Jack shoves down the instinct to avoid — like he’s been doing the last few days. “I don’t even know where to start.” He whispers.

“Anywhere that makes sense to you.” Quinn suggests, because Quinn’s always been the one who directs. Who guides.

So Jack lets it all out. He talks about how he purposefully didn’t want to cling to her all night because he didn’t want to come off that way but how he couldn’t take his eyes off her no matter where she was in the room. He talks about how beautiful she looked (“I mean, you guys aren’t stupid. That top with her eyes? Lethal combo.”) and how he had a moment where he felt like all was right in the world. He talks about that subtle shift in her mood after he lost her for a bit and how quiet she was in the car ride home.

That’s the easy part.

Jack inhales a muffin from a box that someone must’ve gotten this morning from the local bakery before continuing to recall him and Amelie’s conversation in the car after he dropped off everyone. When he drops the revelation that Amelie’s actually going to be around the Tri-State area covering the Rangers, Islanders, Flyers and the fucking Devils, all four of them look shocked, but don’t say anything. He talks about how his initial reaction was that he was hurt that she hadn’t told him because he thought that they had something going on between them. He talks about how he felt like the conversation escalated so quickly but also calmly because Amelie doesn’t raise her voice and Jack is not a yeller and how it almost would’ve been easier had they been screaming at each other. He talks about how he can’t really remember when Amelie started crying but how he can remember how he felt his stomach dropping to his feet when she did. He can barely remember how they fucking got there in the first place.

Jack sniffles, hastily wiping his tears away before they can fully fall. “All I know is that I fucking made her cry and whatever we had is probably ruined, which is extremely fucking convenient considering I’m gonna be seeing her around during the season.”

“It’s not ruined,” Ethan speaks up after a few seconds of silence.

Jack snorts. “No offense, man, But how would you know that for sure?”

“I know you two have gotten close in the last month or so, but besides that, I would argue that out of everyone here, I’m the closest with her.” And Jack swallows, because shit, Ethan has a point. Ethan continues. “Despite her lying to you and everything falling to pieces, it’s not ruined. Amelie isn’t like that. You have to really fuck up for her to cut you out.”

And like, yeah, Jack knows that, to a degree. But, “I don’t think she’s ever gonna wanna see me again.”

“Well, did you say anything that was particularly horrible?” Luke asks.

Jack swallows. “No? Maybe I was snappy at some points, but I don’t think so”

“I mean, it’s fair,” Quinn says. “Even though it’s harsh, you were right to be mad about her lying to you.”

“Did I give off that impression that she couldn’t talk to me? Like yeah, we practically just met, but I feel like, I don’t know. I just don’t really get why she’d hide that from me.”

“I might have an idea,” the guys turn to Ethan as he swallows and debates something in his own head. “Uh, this is random, but hear me out. Did she ever tell you about her ex?”

“Which one?” Jack asks.

“Cooper Volt. Baseball player at Michigan. Drafted to the Mets, I think.”

“A bit but not much. Why?”

“Look, I’m not trying to, like, spill her secrets or anything. I think it just might put things in context.” Jack nods and Ethan sighs. “So basically, she was dating him, right? Pretty serious. Lasted for a little over a year. Anyways. I don’t know the details, but I know that the break-up wasn’t pretty. Or, I just assume it wasn’t, because I only found out they broke up after I saw Cooper with another girl on his arm and was confused and literally asked Amelie about it. Apparently, it had only been two weeks since they broke up and he had already gone out and found someone else?”

“What an asshole,” Dylan says, his first verbal participation in the conversation. He’s been munching on cheerios, intensely listening. Quinn’s eyebrows are furrowed in a way that only appears when he’s concerned or really pissed off and Jack’s kinda fuming that someone put her through that.

“Right? Yeah, so that’s that. And typical Amelie, you know, said she was fine and I knew that she had her own friends checking up on her.” Jack’s nodding, following on to his every word, even if a bit confused on where Ethan is going with this. “Okay. So, this is, our sophomore year, so her junior year. The seniors are hosting a party and we convince her to come for once. You know how those parties go. They get big. People are filtering in and out. I just remember coming to the kitchen to refill my drink and seeing Amelie looking so fucking dejected as Cooper and his new girl are talking to her.”

“Did you hear what they said?” Luke asks.

“No, but I didn’t need to, not with that look in her eye,” Ethan scoffed. “I caught the tail-end of their conversation though, which, like, I don’t even wanna repeat, but it was basically Cooper just saying shit about how he never liked her anyways and he took a shot at her being bi? I don’t think I remember it quite accurately to be honest because the second I heard him say that shit I just saw red.”

“He threw the fact that she’s bi to her face?” Jack asks sharply. He’s trying his best not to throw his cup at the wall.

“Something like it,” Ethan says. “Yeah, I know. Absolute piece of shit. I kicked him and their friends out of the party, because, like, there was no fucking way they were staying.”

“How did I not know about this?” Luke asks. “I’m pretty sure I was at that party.”

“You were. If they had refused to leave or whatever or put up more of a fight, I would’ve gotten backup. But they didn’t. And you know Amelie. She begged me not to make a big deal out of it. So I just kept an eye on her for the rest of the night.”

“That’s so shitty,” Quinn says softly. “Putting that against her. With his new girlfriend there too.”

“Yeah, but…anyways. The point is, a week or so after that I kinda caught her after a game or something and I drove her back to her place and she kinda exploded. Went on a whole rant about athletes and sports culture from what she’s observed and all that, which I’m not saying isn’t true, but basically, I think the situation with Cooper was kind of the nail on the coffin.”

“That what?” Luke asks. “All athletes suck?”

Ethan clears his throat. “I think getting fucked over by Cooper, and then meeting Jack and realizing she has feelings for him then thinking back to the last time this happened and how it ended…can you blame her for being a bit scared?”

“She should’ve told me she was covering the Devils when she found out where she was gonna be placed.” Jack says firmly, and he stands by it.

“Probably,” Quinn agrees. “But Jacky, think about it. Even just some of the guys we’ve played with. Not saying they’re all assholes like this guy…it’s just, even if it’s unfair she might place you in the same category, that might be how she feels.”

“She should’ve told me,” Jack repeats. He squeezes his eyes in frustration.

“But did you tell her you were serious about her?” Luke says. Immediately, Jack wants to snap back at his younger brother, because he’s a pest and who is he to doubt Jack about his own fucking relationship, or lack thereof. But then, Jack realizes and a whole new pit appears in his stomach.

“She kept interrupting me,” he whispers. As he puts his head in his hands, he misses the sympathetic looks the other guys exchange. “Fuck. I never-I should’ve been clearer.”

“Jack-”

“I should’ve made that clear from the start,,” Jack says as Luke immediately shuts his mouth. “She had to have known. She had to.” Jack swallows roughly. He’s not the smartest, but he knows now. She didn’t know. And he never clarified what she meant to him.

“I’m sorry, Jack,” Ethan says softly. Jack just waves his apology away. This is all on him. He excuses himself, putting his dish and mug in the sink.

“We’re heading out on the water later. You should come,” Quinn gently urges. Jack just nods, before clamoring up the stairs to take a shower or do something, anything to get rid of the feeling in his stomach.

The feeling that he’s fucked it all up.

day fifty six - amelie

Amelie’s at the Prudential Center by 6:30 a.m. The players start rolling in just after 8, while she’s finishing up helping to set up equipment and lighting. She has two cameras on either shoulder and one hanging by her neck and she has a headband in her hair and she feels happy. She feels at home.

She gets introduced to the guys that she’s been researching for a month now. All of them are pleasant and patient. She does let out a genuine smile when Luke reaches out for a hug in greeting. What happened between her and Jack has nothing to do with him, and she hopes he knows that as she gives him an extra squeeze before pulling away.

When she introduces herself to the captain, she swears there’s a spark of recognition that flashes through Nico’s eyes, but it leaves just as quick as it came. Within their first few minutes of conversation, she concludes that Nico is almost unfairly kind. No wonder Jack loves him.

It’s 10:19 a.m., and she still hasn’t seen Jack yet. She knows he’s scheduled in for his on-ice media shots sometime in the late morning. She purposefully didn’t grab herself a second cup of coffee after finishing her first one. She can’t be shaking when she’s trying to get pictures of him.

Jack comes in and shakes everyone’s hand. He just waves at her with a polite smile and she waves back, her stomach dropping. They can play it off as Amelie being across the ice and too far, but in reality, she’s not sure if she would try to fake a handshake and pretend they’ve never met, hug him and never let go, or do something incredibly fucking stupid like kiss him.

He looks so handsome. He must’ve cut his hair recently, in a shorter style that makes him so carefree and young.

His stuff takes around 20 minutes, and she doesn’t really have to talk to him, instead just taking direction from Mira, head photographer / videographer.

He’s not directly interacting with her, but she feels her stomach swirling and her palms sweat, causing the camera to almost slip out of her grasp multiple times. She wants to smile at the comfort he brings her just from being near him and wants to cry at how they left things in her grandparents’ driveway. At how bad she still feels for lying to him. At how much she’s missed him, as pathetic as it sounds.

It’s neither of their faults that things fell to pieces the way they did. But now, as she snaps a silhouette shot of Jack, she’s deathly afraid that this is just what it’s gonna be.��

Jack’s the last one before lunch, so while everyone is taking their lunch break, Amelie takes a few moments to head to an empty room. She braces her hands on a table and takes three deep breaths. Her heart is beating fast. Her mind is starting to get away from her. She needs to focus. She cannot fall apart at work.

“Amelie?” She whips around to see Jack, dressed back in his Devils hoodie and shorts, looking at her in concern.

She wipes her sweaty hands on her jeans. “Jack. Hey. Can I help you with something?”

“No,” Jack shuffles into the room. “I just heard your sighs. I- I wanted to make sure you were okay.”

It feels like she has molasses in her throat, but she manages to respond. “I’m okay. Thanks.”

“Okay. Good.”

He’s about to walk out of the room but her brain thinks before her mouth. “Jack!” He turns back around and she takes a breath.

“Yeah?” His face is unreadable.

She forces herself to keep eye contact. “Would you wanna maybe grab dinner or something?”

Jack blinks. Amelie wonders if he’s ever been rendered speechless. His voice doesn’t give anything away either. “Like, on a date?” She nods. Her stomach is dropping and she feels shame cripple up her spine until-”

“Yes.”

Her stomach drops, but for an entire different reason. “Really?” She asks in a small voice

“Of course,” His eyes glow and the light smirk on his face doesn’t feel arrogant. It feels light. Fond, even. “That sounds..perfect.”

“Oh, okay.” She whispers and her throat closes up as he steps closer.

“I’ll text you?”

“I’ll text you.”

He smiles brightly, and she can’t help but smile back. She’s missed that smile so much. “Okay,” he whispers. “I can’t wait.”

“Thank you,” she croaks out. “I’m sorry about…well. I’m sorry.”

Jack chuckles, and it makes her heart feel a bit lighter. He gingerly grabs both her hands, looking right into her eyes as he brings them up to his lips and kisses them softly. She bites her lip, overwhelmed. “Nothing to be sorry for,” he says. “Promise.”

“Jack,” she whispers.

He walks backwards shyly, but his eyes stay on hers stubbornly. “You know, with you, it’s always gonna be a yes.”

“Jack.”

He just winks. Amelie’s breath hitches. “I’ll see you later, Amelie.”

She smiles as he walks out of her sight.

~*~*~

tag list (lmk if you wanna be a part of it!): @ru-kru

#k writes #hockey fanfic #hockey writing #hockey fic #nhl #nhl writing #nhl fic #nhl fanfic #hockey blurb #nhl blurb #jack hughes x oc #jack hughes x ofc #jack hughes #new jersey devils #luke hughes #reckless driving au

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drunk-person · 3 days

Text

Burned by you (One Shot)

Pairing: Aemond Targaryen x wife!reader

Summary: After a few months of marriage, the reader tries to see in her always well-composed and taciturn husband the frightening dragon that she was told to fear before the wedding, but without success. Until one afternoon a small incident pushes Aemond over the edge and she realizes her wish to wake the dragon.

WARNING: 18+ mdni! Smut, p in v, fingering, possessive and jealousy sex, dom/sub tones if you squint, mentions of murder, no description for reader.

Word cont: 1.900 k

Author's note: Hi, this is my first one short published, I've written others, but I never posted them and this one was written this afternoon and I thought "why not?". I usually write better than this, but this was a jumbled part of my mind that I finally decided to share, hope someone likes it. English is not my first language so be kind if you can.

Aemond's stoic manner almost always disturbed his young wife. No matter how much she saw the fire cross her eye, it never burned what was around her. Except in the training yard, she never saw him out of composure, and sometimes not even in the training yard he lost his composure. His hair was always well-groomed, his clothes were well-adjusted and his gaze was always calculated. She got tired. She wanted to see the beast she knew was underneath. She wanted the fire that shone every now and then in his eyes to consume her. She wanted to be burned by the dragon. So she did what she could do best, teased him to death.

She smiled everywhere in the way she knew Aemond didn't like her to do. She walked through the courtyards in her dresses considered most revealing. She would even grant a dance or two to some braggart Lord, but he remained just as stoic. The day she gave Prince Jacaerys a dance she thought she saw his eyes sparkle, but soon he was talking to his sister and she lost sight of his eyes.

Y/n she got tired of that game in which she was visibly losing. She was resigned to knowing that she would never see the dragon she had been warned about when she got married. She was walking calmly through the gardens while thinking when she felt the heel of the boot she was wearing give way on her. And with a gasp she almost fell face first onto the grass in front, but before that, a rough hand caught her.

— Is my princess okay? — The young gardener asked helpfully.

— My shoe broke. — She said while leaning on the boy who must have been a few years older than her.

— Here, let me help. — The gardener placed her hand on his shoulder and crouched close to the ground while removing the shoe from Y/n's foot, who didn't even notice the compromising position in which she found herself with the boy practically between her legs.

Suddenly came the cold and menacing voice from her back, causing every hair on her body to stand on end.

— Wife. — She immediately turned back, stepping with her bare foot on the grass, while the gardener released her and practically fell into a sitting position on the garden lawn. Aemond's eyes were on fire, her jaw was clenched and her body was tense like a rope stretched to its limit.

— Husband, nothing happened. — She tried to explain quickly. — My shoe broke and got stuck on the lawn, he was just…

— Quiet. — Aemond hissed harshly.

— But husband...

— I said to keep quiet. — He spoke with a firm voice as he approached them both.

He guided his hand to her neck and caressed it gently as he closed one of his hands and squeezed it, but not enough to hurt. Y/n looked him in the eyes, scared and without moving a single muscle.

— Go to our chambers and wait for me there. — He practically spat out the words as he released her neck without any delicacy.

Y/n didn't question him anymore, she just turned her back and ran barefoot towards their shared chambers without even looking at the gardener, who was still lying on the grass.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

She walked around the room without even being able to breathe. What would happen? What was her husband thinking now? Where he was? It seemed like hours had passed since the garden. And then without warning the door opened and she immediately turned towards it, but the sight that came was of something completely unheard of.

Aemond walked through the door with her hands, her face and her own clothes covered in blood, a frightening look on her face. Her steps were stiff as he slowly walked towards her.

— Husband, what happened? — She asked worried, but unable to move towards him.

— Do you want to know what happened? What did I have to do? — He asked angrily when he finally approached her and held her jaw firmly in his right hand, squeezing it tightly. — I made that filthy gardener fight me.

Y/n’s heart sank for the poor guy. She knew that no one in the royal guard was a match for Aemond, a young gardener would never be. But why was it covered in blood?

— And when I beat him without any major complications. — He paused before concluding in an even more cruel voice. — I beheaded him myself.

Y/n brought her hands to her lips as she imagined the brutal scene in front of her.

— Sad for your loving wife? — He practically shouted as he pulled her hair back forcing her to look into his eyes. Y/n quickly shook her head in visible despair.

— He was not my lover. I swear husband! He was just taking my shoe off the grass. — She whimpered as Aemond pulled even more of her hair.

— I may have only one eye but I'm not blind, wife. — He growled, looking into her eyes. — That man didn't look at you as someone who just wanted to help you with a shoe.— Husband... — She tried speak, but Aemond slapped her.

— I tried to treat you the best I could, but if you want to act like a common whore, then I'll treat you like a common whore. — Aemond pulled out his dagger and Y/n's eyes widened, he then used it to tear the entire dress she was wearing, ripping it off her in moments, leaving only her undershirt, which he tore with his own hands, making Y/n gasp.

Aemond bent her over the table and before Y/n could understand anything, she felt a new slap on her ass and let out a scream of surprise. Without warning, Aemond violently separated her ass cheeks, making her feel exposed, her whole body seemed to burn with shame. She felt herself heat up even more as she heard her husband laugh evilly and felt his breath against her wet folds.

— A real little whore. — He inserted two fingers at once into her intimacy, making her squirm. — Wet and anxious while waiting to be fucked.

She moaned outrageously as she felt his fingers fucking her without mercy. Her body was lying on the table and while he was fucking her with one hand, Aemond held her firmly by the neck, keeping her in the same position. She felt that the air was running out of her and the pressure in her belly was almost unbearable, and when her husband removed his hand from her neck and took it to the top of her thighs, violently pinching her pearl, she screamed with pleasure and pain as she came against Aemond's hands, who didn't stop his movements for even a second.

The Excessive Stimulation was making her go crazy. Aemond, without caring, slapped her on the buttock, making her grip the table tightly, the slap was followed by another, and another, and another, until Y/n was reduced to a crying and desperate mess.

— Husband. — She begged, babbling and drooling on the table top. - Please…

Aemond just laughed and bit her shoulder firmly, as he penetrated her all at once with his length, she whimpered even more at the sudden intrusion. And without waiting for her to get used to it like he always did, he started fucking her violently. Aemond took his hands to her hair, entangling his hands there and pulling her head back making her face their reflection in the mirror.

The Vision made Y/n moan even more, she was completely naked and Aemond was clothed. His hair was messy and scattered everywhere, his clothes were a mess, his face and part of his skin were covered in blood, and his look... oh, his look looked like that of a mad man. The flame that was there could burn the entire room, and it was certainly burning her.

— I should have fucked you in front of that bastard before I ripped his head off. — Aemond growled in her ear as he fucked her even harder and Y/n cried uncontrollably amid moans and panting. — Maybe I'll ask them to bring his head and hang it in our room so he can watch as I fuck you every night in the seven fucking hells. — Y/n let out a scream when she heard him say those things. The hand that squeezed her waist did so with such force that it hurt, as he went deeper and deeper into her.

— You have to know, wife. — He practically growled as he bit her neck violently. — That you are mine, if I see you dancing with that bastard Strong again I will make sure that an accident occurs and he falls from one of the towers. — He slapped her hard on the ass when he said that.

— If any of these servants touch your skin again, I will rip their head off in front of you. — He gave a strong thrust inside her as he stared at her in the mirror with his eyes burning. — I will kill anyone who dares to come close to what is mine. — He hissed in an almost venomous way as he squeezed her breasts firmly and Y/n felt her whole body shake with the uncontrolled pleasure that erupted through her body.

— Say my name, say the name of the owner of this pussy and this body. — Aemond grunted, slapping her pearl sharply and Y/n saw stars. She came screaming his name at the top of her lungs to anyone who would listen.

— Whore. — Aemond moaned in her ear as he continued fucking her. — Filthy whore. — He bit her ear as she cried amidst her orgasm. — My little whore.

— Yours. — She cried, rubbing herself against him uncontrollably, even with the pain of overstimulation. — You whore, only yours.

And Aemond came deep inside her with a moan that sounded like a growl as he bit and sucked on her neck.

— Never do that again, wife, or I guarantee you I won't be so indolent. — Her husband's breathless voice sounded against her neck.She nodded weakly and with no more strength in her body, she collapsed onto the table again.

¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤¤

The sun was high in the sky when Y/n woke up the next day, still naked as on her name day, alone in bed and with all her painful limbs. Aemond, as always, had left very early, and she got up from the bed with difficulty, feeling her legs wobble like she hadn't felt since her first night with her husband.

She walked slowly to the mirror and sighed at the image before her, bruises of all colors covered her body, neck, thighs, hips, waist, ass, breasts. All covered in Aemond's handprints or her bite marks.

She smiled mischievously as she watched herself and lightly bit her lower lip as she remembered the other night. She barely noticed the door opening, and only looked up when she heard it close. Through her mirror her gaze met Aemond's and she could see his eyes burning like fire as he addressed her.

She had awakened the dragon, and now there would be no turning back.

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bloatedandalone04 · 2 days

Text

Bets & Bargains - Part 7

Series Masterlist

➪in which bradley finally makes things official between you and him, and the guys finally catch onto what’s been keeping their frat mate so busy lately.

PSA: strongly suggested to read the warnings before proceeding.

WC; 4.5k | Do not repost this anywhere, reblogs are fine ♡

Bradley failed to notice that you had accidentally left your hoodie on his passenger seat when he dropped you off last night. He was going to bring it to you since you didn’t live far away, but he decided to just keep it there until he saw you again.

Then he got himself ready for bed and saw the mess he made for you in his boxers, and he went right back out to his Jeep and grabbed your hoodie, then spent the next ten minutes holding it up to his nose as he jerked himself off in his bedroom.

He couldn’t help it. It smelled like movie theater popcorn and you, a combination he didn’t think he would like so much.

He was happy it was the weekend and he didn’t have class to go to today, because he knew he wouldn’t have been able to focus on a single thing other than you.

Why you were such a distraction, he didn’t know, but he honestly didn’t care. Last night was amazing, and he was cursing himself for it ending so soon. You and he talked for a long time after you got each other off in the driver’s seat of his Jeep, and it was only around ten when he drove you back to campus. He should’ve taken you to get milkshakes or something, since you both were quite a big fan of them, instead of reminding himself that he wanted to take things slow with you.

Bradley hadn’t even told you about Bri yet, like you told him about Luke, but he was sure that you would automatically think that you were a rebound since he and Bri broke up literally only a week ago tomorrow. That wasn’t the case, though. Sure, his initial, drunken thought was to find someone to make Bri jealous with, but that wasn’t what he was doing with you. He liked you, and if she was jealous because of that, then it was just a bonus.

He knew he liked you a bit too much too soon, so he restricted himself to only texting you all throughout Saturday while he tried to catch up on the assignments he’d been given during the first week back at school. As he read through them, he realized that he had missed the explanation of them as well since he was too preoccupied with thoughts of you, and then he told himself to get a grip.

He had never been like this before, not with anyone, but he wasn’t mad that you were the first person to get him all flustered and unfocused like he currently is now.

On Sunday, he caved.

I miss you, babes. Can I see you today?

He was scribbling out a spelling error, not caring enough about neatness to actually erase the mistake, when you got back to him.

Y/n: I miss you, flyboy. What did you have in mind?

Bradley laughed at the name, pushing aside his school work in order to give you his full attention. It was nearing four in the afternoon and he hadn’t eaten much today other than half a box of stale crackers, and he has a few things in the fridge and cupboard he needs to get rid of soon, so he decided to invite you over for dinner.

You hungry? I’m sick of fast food places, let me make you something real and half decent.

Y/n: I’m always hungry, and beyond curious to find out about your culinary skills.

I’m very skilled in the kitchen I barely use, believe me. Come over at 5?

Y/n: I believe you. See you soon, flyboy.

Bradley was left smiling stupidly at his phone, then he quickly changed your contact name before trying to get as much studying time in as possible before you got here.

You’d spent most of the weekend in your room, wanting to avoid Sam as much as you could. You were still annoyed with her, and pissed off that she thinks you were looking for a rebound in Bradley. Even though you weren’t, she was the one who told you to go get a rebound anyway.

Things had been over between you and Luke for months, and you were more than ready to move on. And Bradley seemed like a great person to move on with, if he felt the same way about you. Though, you had a feeling he did since he pretty much told you in his Jeep on Friday night.

Fuck, you’ve replayed that night over and over in your head too many times to count. It was almost too perfect. Not only did he make you feel unbelievably good, the long talk you had after was something you didn’t know you needed so badly.

Talking with Bradley was one of the easiest things you had ever done, and listening to him talk about his life and past and possible future was like a breath of fresh air.

It was almost five when you finally left the confines of your room, and of course Sam was right there. Really, you should’ve expected it since her room is across the hall from yours, and the hall is extremely small, so you were bound to bump into her eventually. “Oh,” she blandly said, a bottle of Pepsi in one hand and a bag of chips in the other. “You’re alive. She’s alive, everyone.”

You watch with narrowed eyes as she turns and gestures to you as if it wasn’t just you and her in the cramped hall. “Really?” You ask in a bored tone, crossing your arms.

“Really,” she hummed, raising her brows quickly before turning towards her bedroom door. “Have fun with the frat boy.”

You glared at her then at her door when she slammed it in your face. How did she know you were going to see Bradley? Sure, you’ve seen him a lot since that party, maybe a bit too much, but still. That was a lucky guess.

Not wanting to be in a bad mood when you get to his place, you take a deep breath and raise both your middle fingers at her door, then head towards the front one. You would deal with her later, and preferably clear the air, because she was acting like a child and you were getting fed up with it.

It was kind of cold out for a summer night, and you failed to check the weather before leaving, so you ended up walking across campus in just a grey tank top and black jeans. You walk up the steps and knock on the door, rubbing your hands over your arms afterwards as you wait.

You didn’t have to wait for too long as less than ten seconds later the door opened and revealed the guy you were annoyingly into. “Hey,” Bradley greeted with a boyish smile that had you fighting off one of your own. “You don’t have to knock, you know. We rarely ever lock the door.”

“Oh,” you laugh and step inside the house when he moves to the side. “That’s really good to know in case I ever stay the night again.”

Bradley, who looked too good to be true in his blue flannel and dark jeans, rolled his eyes as he pushed the door closed. “You didn’t let me finish. We rarely ever lock it when we’re home,” he added with a laugh, draping his arm over your shoulder as he guided you into the kitchen.

You hum and lean into his side, wrapping your arm around his middle. “That makes it sound a lot better,” you smile up at him. “Thanks for clarifying.”

Bradley shook his head, leaning down to press a kiss to your lips as if it came naturally to him. Was this a normal thing now? God, you hoped so. “Come on,” he said against your lips. “It’s almost ready.”

You let him lead you into the kitchen, your body stuck to his. It seemed like neither one of you wanted to let the other one go at the moment, and you didn’t mind it one bit. “What’s almost ready?”

“The decent food I promised you,” he answered, pulling you with him to the stove. You barely got a second to look at the pan that was on the burner before Bradley picked you up effortlessly and set you down on the counter next to the oven.

You got a hint of his strength on Friday night when he threw you over his shoulder and carried you across the parking garage, and both times left you a bit breathless.

Bradley moved his body so his waist was in between your thighs, and his hands were placed on the counter next to your hips. He was still taller than you, even like this, so he had to lean down to ghost his lips over yours. “Do you wanna taste it?” He asked, his words muffled against your mouth.

Not being able to form proper words, you nod and harshly swallow at the smirk that formed on his lips. He turned away from you and grabbed a fork, piling a bit of the ground beef onto it before bringing it up to your mouth. You hold eye contact as you take the fork between your teeth, a sharp intake following shortly after. “Wow,”

“Good? Bad?” Bradley laughed, setting the fork down and placing his hands on either side of your hips again. “Which one is it?”

“Good, it’s good,” you reply, still chewing as you reach up to wipe at your mouth. “Spicy.”

He hummed, lifting his hand and running his thumb along your bottom lip, collecting what you failed to wipe away. “Is that bad? Do you not like spicy things?”

You shake your head, a laugh escaping afterwards. “I do, I just can’t handle a lot of spice. My taste buds will fall off,”

“Oh, we can’t have that,” Bradley laughed, too, sliding his hand up so it’s caressing the side of your face. You were still smiling when his gaze became a little more intimate, and you thought he was going to kiss you again when he instead surprised you. “Do you wanna be my girlfriend?”

Your eyes widen a bit and you laugh again, a sound of disbelief as your eyes flickered all over his face. “What?”

“Do you want to be my girlfriend?” He repeated slower this time, his thumb gently stroking your cheek as he looked down at your lips.

The shock from the sudden question eventually wears off and you place your hands on his shoulders. “Um,” you trail off as you sit up straighter, your hands sliding up to tangle in his hair. “Yeah, I do.”

Bradley grinned at you, “Yeah?”

“Yeah,” you confirm, unable to stop the smile that matched his before he leaned in and pressed a firm kiss to your mouth.

You gently pull at his hair as he grabs your hips in both hands, deepening the kiss as he tugs you towards the edge of the counter. “You left your hoodie in the Jeep,” he told you, barely pulling away from your lips as he spoke.

“Oh,” you murmur. “Is it still in there?”

He shook his head, kissing you again after. “It’s in my room,” he mumbled. “I’m keeping it.”

You laugh against his lips, wrapping your arms around his shoulders before pulling away. “It’s my favorite one,” you pouted and he reached up to tug at your bottom lip.

“You can steal one of mine,” he suggested and the offer sounded too tempting to decline, so you just smiled at him and nodded.

“Okay,” you agreed, kissing him one last time before pushing him away from you. “Check the food, flyboy. Make sure it’s not burning.”

Bradley shook his head with a laugh, stepping away from you and checking on the pan. “It’s not,” he observed, glancing over at you with teasing eyes. “But if it was, it’d be your fault for distracting me.”

You shrug, gripping the edge of the granite as you lean over. “You gotta learn how to focus on the important tasks if you want to be in the Navy,”

He copied your shrug and looked over at you as he turned the stove off and set the pan onto a different burner. “I don’t know, kissing you seemed very important,”

You roll your eyes and look around the simple kitchen. “Where are your frat buddies?”

“I don’t know,” Bradley answered with a quiet laugh, transferring the beef into a bowl. “They’re hardly ever here. That’s why it’s so quiet. I don’t know what they do all day long.”

You nod even though he was too focused on the food to see it. “I like it when it’s quiet,” you say, watching as he grabs two plates from the top shelf of a cupboard, the stretch making his flannel lift and expose a bit of his toned waist. “Means I get you all to myself.”

“What, having me all to yourself every day last week wasn’t enough?” He teased, setting the plates down before holding his hand out to you.

You grab it and hop down, throwing your arms around his shoulders and pressing your nose to his. “Nope,” you mumble. “Friday was too good of a date, it just made me want you more.”

Bradley wrapped his arms around your waist and pulled you close to his chest. “Good, ‘cause that was kinda the plan,”

“Oh,” you drag the word out as he pulls you with him to the small table by the sliding door. “You’ve got it all figured out, huh?”

Bradley shrugs, sitting down on a chair and pulling you onto his lap. “I might’ve thought about it once or twice,” he replied and you shake your head, watching as he reached around you and began piling various ingredients onto a tortilla wrap.

Why did it feel so easy with him? And how was he able to make your whole body blush with a simple sentence like that?

You drape your arm over his shoulders as you get yourself settled on his lap, and when you turned your head to look at him, you were able to see his multiple scars up close. “Can I ask you something?” You sounded a bit hesitant, and Bradley quickly looked up at you.

“Yeah, of course,” he answered, wrapping one arm around your middle. “Did I already mess this up?”

“No,” you laugh, leaning down to press a kiss to the corner of his mouth to further prove your words. “I just…how did you get these scars?” You quietly asked, tracing your fingers along the raised skin on his face and neck.

Bradley’s shoulders dropped in what you think is relief before he leaned back against the chair. “You finally noticed them, huh?”

Shaking your head, you shift on his lap so you could make your own wrap, then you lean against him again. “I noticed them the first night I met you, I just didn’t want to ask you something that might make you uncomfortable,”

“No, it’s fine,” he gave you a toothless smile, running his fingers along the waistline of your jeans. “It’s stupid, really. I got really drunk at a party last year and I started talking out of my ass to Eli and Wes, the guys I live with. It got heated and I don’t even remember why or what I said, but it was apparently something pretty bad since Eli ended up shoving me into a cabinet and I went right through the glass door of it.”

Your eyes widen and you put your wrap down after only taking one bite. “Oh, my God,” you gasped, sliding your hand up and gently massaging the back of his neck. “Jesus, Bradley. And you’re still friends with them? You still live with them?”

“Still got the cabinet, too,” he nodded across the kitchen and towards the fridge. A tall, wooden cabinet was right next to it, and you questioned how you failed to notice it there until he pointed it out. The door was missing the glass, and the wood around it was chipped, indicating that it was broken pretty forcefully. “We use it as a place to put the recycle bin now.”

You turn back to him with a frown. “Bradley..”

His smile faded, though you knew it was a forced one anyway. “I know. They thought it was funny at the time, and I woke up the next morning with glass still in my face and shoulder. I looked pretty fucking scary walking across the street to the hospital with blood all over me,”

You shake your head and bury your face against the side of his neck. “Fuck,”

Bradley huffed out a laugh, running his hand up and down your back. “I know,” he trailed off. “I had to lie to the doctor and say that I fell into it instead of telling him that my friend pushed me then left me on my bed afterwards.”

Groaning you press a chaste kiss to the healed scar on his throat before lifting your head. “Bradley. I hate your frat buddies,”

He hummed in agreement, kissing your temple and keeping his lips there after. “I’m not very fond of them lately, either,”

After you begged him to let you clean up since he cooked, Bradley guided you towards the living room. Flashbacks of your third date, if he counted it as a date like you do, passed through your head, and when you looked over at the far end of the couch, you could see the blanket you and he shared when you fell asleep.

A smile takes over your lips as you fall onto the same spot you were in the last time you were here, and Bradley sits next to you. “Did you like it? Did my culinary skills impress you?”

“You know what, they did,” you answered with a laugh, leaning into his side when he lifted his arm. “You’re right, real food tastes so much better.”

Bradley laughed and then your phone went off. You pulled it from your pocket, leaning your head on his chest as you read the new text you had gotten.

Luke: Are you seriously done with us?? With me? Come on, brat, we’re good together.

Your brows furrowed and you let out a quiet huff. Bradley shifted and you knew he read it, too, when he asked, “Is that your ex?” in a deep grunt, unknowingly making you smile at the protectiveness in his voice.

“Yep,” you sigh, not knowing what to say that would get Luke to back off.

“Block him,” Bradley suggested and your eyes widened a bit.

“What? You think I should block him?” You question, cuddling closer to his side as he nodded.

“I don’t like the way he calls you brat, it’s condescending,”

“Condescending?” You repeat with a laugh before scrolling through your long thread with your ex. “You really think I should block him? You think he’ll get the hint that way?”

Bradley hummed, leaning down to kiss the top of your head. “Block him, baby,”

You bite back a moan and click on the red button without thinking twice. “There,” you whisper, nudging his chin with the top of your head. “He’s blocked.”

You swipe out of the thread and were about to turn your phone off when Bradley stopped you. “Can I see it for a second?”

“My phone? Why? You think I have more secret exes I should block?” You tease and hand him your phone, watching as he laughed and shook his head.

“No, I just wanted to change something,” he mumbled, clicking on his own contact. “Fratley, huh?”

You laugh and nod. “It’s fitting,”

“I like it,” he rasped, editing the contact name before handing your phone back to you. “There.”

You look at the two new hearts he added beside his name and smile, clicking on the picture icon before crawling onto his lap. “Okay, picture time,” you state, goosebumps forming on your skin as he runs his hands up and down your thighs.

With your phone in one hand, you use your other to purse his lips together, his cheeks scrunching up cutely as you did so. You quickly take the photo and stare at it for a few seconds, a humorous smile painted on your lips. “Good?” He questioned with a laugh and you nod, turning your phone and showing him the picture. “Jesus.”

You laugh loudly, dropping your phone onto the cushion next to you. “You’re so cute,” you murmur, leaning down to kiss along the side of his face. “My turn.”

You hold your hand out to him and he laughs, unlocking his phone and placing it on your palm. “Have at it,” he said and leaned back on the couch as you opened his contacts.

“Oh, look at that,” you trail off. “You already changed my name.”

Bradley nodded smugly, taking his phone from you again and pulling you down against his chest. You laughed and braced your hands on his shoulders and smiled when he lifted his hand and took a picture of the two of you, his lips pressed to your cheek. You watched as he set it as your contact picture, cropping most of himself out and only leaving half his face in it.

“Now that that’s settled,” he whispered, kissing you before you could get another word out and wrapping his arms around you.

After kissing for what felt like hours, you had to go back to your place since you had a test you needed to study for that was for your morning class tomorrow.

Bradley was reluctant to let go of you once you moved off the couch and pulled him into a hug by the front door. He pressed too many kisses to count all over your face before letting you leave with a pretty smile on your lips.

Then he was alone and already thinking about you.

He turned around and headed up to his room, shrugging off his flannel that smelled like your perfume and tossing it onto his desk chair next to your hoodie. He kicked the door closed and fell onto his bed, his notebook opened to a random page as he read over his terrible handwriting.

Not even five minutes passed before his bedroom door swung open and Bradley turned just as Eli and Wes stumbled their way into his room with beer bottles in their hands. “Hey, Bradshaw!” Wes greeted in a slurred voice, his arm draped around Eli’s shoulder as they fell onto the end of his bed. “Shit, this is more comfortable than mine. Can we switch beds?”

Bradley raised a brow and sat up against the headboard. “No,” he answered, knowing Westley was being serious with that question. “Do you guys need something?”

Eli lifted his head and narrowed his eyes, “What? We have to need something to be able to hang out with you? That’s low, bro,”

Bradley shook his head and looked back down at his notebook just as his phone went off from its place next to him. He put the book down and reached for the phone, but Eli was quicker and apparently wanted to be a pain in the ass as he grabbed it before Bradley could.

“Ooh, Y/n, huh?” He laughed as he held Bradley’s phone about three inches away from his face. “Is this what’s been keeping you so preoccupied nowadays, Bradshaw?”

“Give me my phone,” Bradley grunted, reaching for it.

Eli held it away from him with a smirk. “Aww, is she your girlfriend now? You’re over Bri?”

“That was quick,” Wes chimed in, lifting his body up so he could look at Bradley’s phone as well.

“Guys, I’m serious,” Bradley muttered, grabbing the device before Eli could lock him out of it with all the failed password attempts. There was no way he was telling these two fucking idiots that he had made it official with you. They were drunk off their asses and already didn’t take anything he did seriously. There was no way he’d be able to convince them that he’s being genuine with you.

“Does she know she’s just a bet yet?” Eli asked as he took a swig from the bottle.

Bradley was just about to read your text, but Eli’s question had his face heating up and his expression dropping. “No,” he answered instantly. “And she’s not going to know, because she’s not a bet.”

Eli rolls his eyes and swirls the beer around in the bottle. “Yeah, yeah, you said that last time, but look at it from our perspective, dude,” he started, leaning towards Bradley, the strong booze radiating off him. “Bri breaks up with you, you throw a party and come up with this sick, cruel idea to help get her back, decide to use Y/n for that idea, and then you spend all of last week with her. And now she’s your girlfriend? Come on, Bradshaw, you haven’t even tried to hide your true intentions.”

Bradley narrowed his eyes and set his phone aside. “What are my true intentions?”

“You’re hoping to make Bri jealous so she’ll come back to you,” Eli answered, shrugging afterwards as he finished off his beer. “Then you’ll dump Y/n, and we’ll pay you a thousand each.”

“I’m not going to dump Y/n-”

“So if Bri were to come up to you sometime within the next few weeks and beg you to take her back, you wouldn’t?” Wes asked, sipping the last of his own beer.

Bradley wanted nothing more than to kick these two drunk guys out of his room. He had nothing to say or prove to them, and he wished they would just drop it. “No, I wouldn’t take her back,” he muttered, bringing his knees to his chest as he rubbed at his eyes. “I like Y/n.”

“More than Bri?” Wes asked and Bradley glared at him, making the blond raise his hands in defense. “Hey, you’re the one who made a bet to win her back.”

“Y/n’s not a bet-”

“Think of it as a bargain, then,” Eli cut him off, suddenly sounding more sober than how he sounded when he first came in. “Come on, Brad, you’ve come this far. See how it plays out. You keep doing whatever it is you’re doing with Y/n, and if she ends up falling for you, then you get two grand.”

“And if she doesn’t?” Bradley had no idea why he was still even entertaining them at this point.

“Then we’ll know that you really do suck at dating,” Eli laughed. “Just go with it, bro. It could be fun for all of us. And she’ll never know.”

Bradley didn’t say anything else, waiting until Eli and Wes got bored of the silence and left. When they were gone, he finally allowed himself to read the text you sent almost twenty minutes ago.

Babes🩷: I forgot to steal one of your hoodies. Can you bring me that flannel you were wearing tomorrow? For no particular reason at all.

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dollypopup · 2 days

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I just can't stop thinking about Pen and Colin as mirrors.

Of the apology scene. I can't stop thinking about how Colin's so earnest, so different from his persona at the start. How he literally had lines to feed to the debutantes, to repeat, ad nauseam, vamping with each new player to the stage, but but how his conversation with Penelope is from the heart. How he responds to her 'you are embarrassed of me' with 'I am most certainly not ashamed of you' and her 'I am the laughingstock of the ton' with 'you are clever and warm'.

I'm thinking about how his voice speeds up after that to 'and I am proud tocallyoumyverygoodfriend', how it is so clearly genuine, how it makes so much sense that he is nervous, because she means so much to him, because it's not rehearsed: and then how she tells him it frustrates her that he can walk into society with ease. His face when she says that. . .I keep rewatching it. How he looks to the side. How he swallows. How he looks down.

How he could keep eye contact with her the entire time, except when she says that.

And then I contrast that to the scene in the Bridgerton house (which by the way? I'm swooning. He asked her where or what it was that made her feel most comfortable when they were at the market, and she said Sunday Teas at Bridgerton House, and mourned that she couldn't have them anymore. So he invites her there. So he sets up a refreshment table. So e sets the scene for her. It's not Sunday Tea, and it's not as it was, but here: there's a quartet preparing for a Parisian Quadrille, here, there's mamas perched on sofas, gossiping about the decor, here, there's a dance floor. She says she was at ease, indicated she isn't, and so he makes her smile. So he helps her unfurl.) where she tells him that "Deep inside, I know I can be clever and amusing but. . .somehow my character gets lost between my heart and my mouth and I find myself saying the wrong thing, or more likely nothing at all"

And he looks down, again. But this time, he looks right back at her. he connects with her immediately.

Because she's speaking to him. No, not with him, but to him. To his heart. To the insecurities he keeps hidden away. Speaking aloud how he feels. Mr. 'I had to rehearse that speech for hours', Mr. 'Living for the expectations of other people is a trap', Mr. Put on the Facade, Mr. People Pleaser.

And this is his face

It's such a small 'blink and you miss it' moment. It lasts barely half a second. But in that room, in that moment, with her. . . he feels seen. Colin who had to rehearse what he said to Jack, Colin who spent so much of Season 2 talking about his travels and everyone being annoyed at him, Colin who responds to 'Well it sounds remarkable' with 'Yes. . .remarkable. As in, I have many remarks about it'. Colin who knows how it feels to never have the right thing to say. Colin who empathizes. Colin who understands.

Not just understands her, but understands that she understands him, too.

They're mirrors.

Mirrors as in: I see you. I see the heart of you. I see the you that you try to hide, but you cannot hide from me.

Mirrors as in: you are my reflection. You are not me in exactitude, but ever so familiar, reversed. Where Colin is of such importance to the ton on the outside, his thoughts are unimportant. Where Penelope is of such disregard on the outsides, her thoughts run the entirety of the ton.

Mirrors as in: You help me see myself better. You see me kindly, you see me beautifully. Colin who refuses to let Penelope call herself stupid, or a laughingstock. Colin who will not accept her low self-esteem, because he sees her as more. Penelope who then begins to see herself as more, in turn. To recognize that she is more and always has been. If you can see me like this, surely I can too. Penelope who loves Colin's inner thoughts, who asks him for more of them. Who responds to his letters, who enjoys his journals, who sees the him behind a page and behind a falsified smile and says 'I like the real you', and so he can be the real him more and more often. Pen coming to the light externally, and Colin internally. Such ease with each other.

Mirrors as in: I see myself in you. You are familiar. Of the same heart. The same tenderness, us two dreamers with soft, bruised souls, shaped by each other's fingerprints. If I press my hand up to this glass, I can touch you, warm like me. Lonely like me but not lonely when we are together. Better with me like I am better with you.

Mirrors as in: I see myself in you. Tumbling and freewheeling, submerged in you, in your words, in your body, in your life.

I just can't stop thinking of Pen and Colin as mirrors.

#penelope featherington #colin bridgerton #polin #bridgerton #bridgerton season 3 #no one touch me every single damn day i cry over how much i love these two #i yell about how much i adore them into the empty bottle that is the tumblr abyss and i screw the cap on tight

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ghouljams · 24 hours

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A Weight Off His Shoulders

cw: Ghost x f!reader/f!oc, Ghost pov, m!oc, demon au, mild implications of self harm, interrogation techniques, exposition, Ghost grappling with his trauma, depersonalization, I'm holding Ghost at gun point and making him talk about his feelings

Summary: Ghost does not adjust to the few hours he spends without you hanging around. Actually it seems to make things worse.

It’s a strange feeling, Ghost’s shoulders feel weightless, eased of their infernal burden. Yet they’re still heavy. Guilty. He almost misses the pressure, the tightness. It’s like wearing a bulletproof vest, there was something almost comforting about having you weigh down his shadow, and it’s gone now. Ghost grits his teeth, coaxes his nerves away from the edge, hits the punching back in the gym harder than he intended to. He shakes the blow out of his knuckles, readjusts his wraps with a mumbled swear.

“Ghost,” Price calls behind him. Ghost shakes his head, he’s not in the mood for it. A lecture is the last thing he needs. Teamwork and all that bullshit means nothing when he’s- He clenches his hands tightly and throws another punch, he feels full to bursting with energy he doesn’t want to put a name to. Price calls his name again and he ignores it.

Right hook, left jab, right jab, left hook, uppercut. He switches his footing and throws a hard kick, catching the punching back with his shin. Textbook. Price catches the bag, his eyes hard. Ghost settles his foot back onto the matt floor and adjusts his wraps again.

“Know what you’re goin’ to say,” Ghost grumbles.

“Enlighten me,” Price sounds unamused, Ghost knows better than anyone how much he hates to be ignored.

“Team only works if we all do,” Ghost throws another jab, stopping short of the bag. Price doesn’t flinch. “Never needed to be friendly to do my job.”

“So I hear,” Price crosses his arms over his chest, rolls his shoulders back, watching the door. There’s something easy in the motion, unimpeded. Ghost’s eyes flick to the shadows on the wall, then back to Price. The gym is strangely empty, all the life filtered out and the shadows silent. He hadn’t noticed how alone they were until now.

“Where’s your dog?”

Price turns his attention back to him, there’s something sharp in his eyes, something warning. “Thankfully somewhere they can’t hear you call ‘em that.” Price’s tone is even, but dangerous. Ghost clenches his jaw, biting back the words he wants to say. He doesn’t know how Price can’t feel the same rolling disgust about their situation. He’s in the same boat, deemed too dangerous by Hell to exist without an escort. Monster enough to need another monster keeping him company. “They’re off with yours,” Price says finally, “looking over your contract.”

“Which one,” He knows which one, but Price still humors him.

“Not the one you’re hoping for, but if you really want a discharge-”

“I don’t.”

Ghost turns his attention back to the punching bag. He rolls his shoulders, the ease of motion doesn’t sit right. He ignores it. Price lets him wallow in silence, lighting a cigar while Ghost avoids the elephant in the room. Contract. He shouldn’t be beholden to something he never signed. He didn’t mean to summon a demon, he didn’t mean to attach himself to you, he didn’t mean for or want any of this. For God's sake he was barely holding on to his humanity as it was.

Maybe this is good, showing him what he still has to lose, how desperately he still clings to the hope that he could go back. Back to being Simon, to being human, to being something more than a machine part, the teeth on a meat grinder meant to rend flesh apart. He’d always hoped Ghost was just the shell, but maybe he’d spent too long hollowing himself out. Maybe Hell was right and there was nothing left to go back to.

Price lets out a long hard breath, waving his hand to clear the smoke so it doesn’t set off the alarm. He tucks his lighter back in his pocket while Ghost digs his nails into the wraps covering his palms. There’s a ringing in his ears that grows louder as Price smokes.

There’s something wrong with him, something dark and twisted that he was managing, plying with corpses to keep quiet. He was doing well, he was handling it. He was handling having a demon, it wasn’t ideal, but it was manageable. You were a useful tool, he could work with tools. He was a tool, and you were a tool. An unfortunately matching set. He squeezes his fists tighter.

You were so warm.

“So what’s wrong with ‘er?” Price’s voice jerks him out of his thoughts.

“Who?”

“You know who.”

Ghost is quiet. There are a million ways he could explain it. Price would understand, he’d sympathize, maybe he’d even have some advice. There are a million ways he knows he could explain it, but he doesn’t have the words for any of them. He’s never had the words for anything. Probably why he didn’t finish his schooling.

What’s wrong with you? You pushed him, you did something to him during sex that made him want to hurt you. No. He’d already wanted to hurt you, had those awful thoughts festering in the recesses of his brain where he knew they couldn’t hurt anyone, and he’d acted on it. He yelled at you, he slammed drawers and made a fuss. He wanted to hurt you. He did hurt you. You made him feel-

You made him feel like his father, like Roba, like none of the good he’d done meant anything. Hearing you beg- he’s heard those words from too many people: his mother, Tommy, himself. He thought he was better than that. He was kidding himself.

“S’like lookin’ in a mirror,” Ghost rumbles, his voice low enough he isn’t sure Price heard it.

“A mirror,” Price repeats with a disbelieving hum.

“Everything I- Christ-” Ghost drags a hand down his face, feels the friction of his hand wraps against the balaclava and frowns. “I see her and I can feel my old man putting his ideas in my head.”

“His ideas?”

“Wantin’ ta hurt ‘er, wantin’ ta-” It hits him quick, needles his brain. He knows this technique, knows it because he’s heard Price use it enough times before handing Ghost the pliers. He’s too trusting of Price. He’s being interrogated.

Ghost growls and rips the velcro on his wraps, tugging the canvas off his hands with quick motions. The gentle burn of it unraveling from between his fingers barely doing anything to ground him. Price watches him, his smoke filling the room, heavy where it touches his shadow. There’s something crawling in the air, something choking that Ghost can’t attribute to the cigar. The gym is empty, oppressively empty. Ghost’s skin crawls, Price’s stance hasn’t changed, but he’s different, his eyes are harder, challenging Ghost to make a wrong move. His shadow has grown horns.

“We’re not done,” Price tells him evenly. Fire licks at the ice of his irises, sparking anger in Ghost before he can stop it. Even the most docile dog bites its master when cornered.

Ghost cools his fury, fixes Price with a glare as he rolls his shoulders to try and ease some of the tension. Briefly he wonders if he’d feel the same stomach churning pressure with you hanging off of his shoulders. Your weight always seems to negate any other that tries to hold him down.

Price tips his head, and Ghost hears a softer voice tell him, “We’re done.” It bites into Ghost’s blood. He trusts Price, but this? This is pushing it. He’s always hoped to be doing enough good in the grand scheme of things to negate a fraction of the death and destruction. Was that wrong? Were they all being puppeteered by Hell? Was it all for nothing? Should he have felt it; that he’d become worse than his father?

“They got you on a short leash,” Ghost challenges, unable to stop the bite in his tone. Price’s eyes narrow, warning, but all Ghost can feel is the white hot burn of anger.

“I’m tryin’ to help you,” Price assures him, but it feels hollow. Something shifts in Price’s eyes, some twitch in his brow that feels too fleetingly soft. It’s the sort of look that tells Simon, “I got you into this mess, let me get you out of it.” It feels like his ribs could collapse in on themselves, like his lungs are suddenly too empty to fill again.

“You can’t,” Ghost assures him, shoving Simon back into the dark, “there’s nothin’ left to ‘elp.”

Price hums. “You’re a bad liar Simon, always have been,” He takes a drag from his cigar and waves away the smoke of his exhale, “Skip mess and be in my office by 1800.”

It’s not your weight in his shadow that alerts him to your presence. It’s your laughter. Bubbling and just slightly at the edge of raspy, watery, almost. It twists the knife in Ghost’s chest. You shouldn’t sound happier when you’re away from him. You shouldn’t- Actually you shouldn’t be out of your shadows. You never seemed eager to pull yourself out of the darkness before, but here you were loud and bright as ever. Ghost stops his stalk through the hall, parks himself at the corner to listen. Your ever present babble of speech makes his heart flip. He didn’t realize how quiet everything felt without you murmuring in his ear.

“Maybe it’d be best if you stayed with us for a while,” A newly familiar male voice says, the concern is evident in his tone, but it sparks in Ghost’s stomach. Annoyance, must be. The product of disregarding direct orders, not offering advice to someone that isn’t wanted. What a pair they must make.

“Dinnae ken if my back can take tha’,” Soap groans, “May as well have Gaz’s shoulder the way Ahm clickin’.”

Ghost closes his eyes, knocks his head against the concrete wall. Soap. Fine, count him off the list of people he could gripe to, if you’re riding his shadow there’s no reason to go seeking the man out.

“Should have his fuckin’ pelt the way he’s treating you,” Hush grumbles.

“Ghost’s alrigh’,” Soap defends, “just a li’l rough around the edges, dinnae let him get to ya.”

Another flip, his stomach this time. Ghost shakes his head, more than rough around the edges, he’s rough all the way down. No reason to defend a man who’s already proven himself to be demon enough for Hell to keep an eye on. Ghost pushes off the wall and tries not to glance down the hall as he continues his way past the junction. A difficult task when you’re at the other end of it made even worse with the way Hush touches you.

Just a hand on your shoulder, thumb stroking over the army green tee you’re wearing, but it boils in his blood, sings through his ribs like a howling wolf. It pisses him the fuck off seeing you smile at that man. Hush glances his way with a glare. You follow his gaze and your smile drops seeing Ghost staring.

Why does it feel so much like he’s caught you in the act? You’re just standing there, holding his gaze, daring him to look away first.

You’re cute in fatigues.

He tears his eyes off of you to glare at Hush. “Try to keep the insubordination to a minimum, yeah?”

“Ghost,” You sound concerned, on the edge of an explanation that doesn’t come. He doesn’t like it. He turns away, keeps walking.

“Coward,” Hush mumbles.

It stings, but the truth so often does.

You fill his thoughts. An unbidden, contagious, line of thinking that ruins his focus. He thinks of everything but fucking you. Thinks of the way you’d purred, and the way you’d laid against him. He thinks of your voice in his ear, the diagrams drawn in thin air, the weight of shadowed weapons. He thinks of the softness of your hips, the dig of his fingers into your thighs.

He thinks of the way his hands had wrapped around your neck in disgust. Thinks of the way you’d gasped and clawed at him. He thinks of how he’d felt doing it, the wash of guilt and shame that it brought. He’d liked it, and you’d done nothing to stop him.

He thinks of the way you’d smiled at him, the way you’d smiled at Hush. How could they feel so different? How could he feel so different?

He tapes his hands too tight when he goes to beat the bag in the gym for a second time. It hurts each time his fist collides with the stiff fabric. It’s good, deserved even. Men like him don’t get softness.

He remembers the way you’d pressed your lips to his jaw, and whispered for him to get some sleep.

He hadn’t slept so well in years.

Ghost doesn’t bother knocking on the door to Price’s office until he’s already got his hand on the handle. Barely waits to be told ‘enter’ before he’s opening the door. He shouldn’t be surprised to see you, can feel the weight of you starting to slip onto his shoulders just by proximity. It makes him tired, warmth seeps into his bones like a heavy quilt and

“There are three ways humans can acquire demons,” Price’s demon explains, “People like Price who summon them are more traditional by human standards.” Ghost’s eyes fix on Price, what do they mean summoned? Price catches his eye and nods once, short.

“Heard the rumors, figured as long as I was getting blood on my hands I’d do it properly,” Price sniffs, “we do what we have to, to make the world safer. Nothing else to think about.”

“But-” The demon interjects, obviously not happy about the interruption, Price shrugs, “Cases like yours aren’t that uncommon. Plenty of soldiers out there have to compartmentalize their humanity in order to do what’s necessary, you were just a little better at it.”

“Suppose’ to be a compliment?” Ghost narrows his eyes at the demon, they seem unphased.

“It’s a fact. You’ve compartmentalized the humanity most people wear publicly, you’re a dead-man-walking. No time for human emotion, no desire to share your secrets, no desire to learn anyone else’s. You only care about getting closer to the kill you’re tasked with, here to do one job and one job alone.” The demon takes a breath, lets it out and shakes their head. “You take pleasure in your work, some unknown force is paying for what happened to Simon with every enemy you kill. Well, this is what you get-” They gesture to you, “a weapon to help you keep exacting your revenge, with enough humanity to help you sleep at night.”

“Didn’t ask for your ‘elp.” Ghost growls, “was doin’ just fine wi’out ‘er.”

“And humanity was doing just fine killing each other without the atomic bomb,” The demon shrugs, “You adapt, you find better ways to kill each other, and we update our recruitment tactics.”

“The contract sweet’eart,” Price rumbles.

“It’s Hell, the fine print has fine print,” The demon sighs, pinching the bridge of their nose, ��If you were expecting a termination clause there isn’t one, the best we can do is revise it.”

“I actually-” Ghost’s head jerks at your voice, it sounds so much smaller than the last time he heard it, you seem smaller, it tugs at something he buried long ago, “-had a thought on that.”

“Let’s hear it,” Ghost prompts. You glance at him, there’s an emotion in your eyes that he can’t put a name to. He knows it well enough, felt it enough times to know when it’s staring him down. It chafes at him, he doesn’t want you to look at him like that. “Good for you to get away from me too, don’t wanna be around a woman that think’s I’m gonna hurt ‘er.” That only seems to make it worse, your smile is so forced that you may as well have a gun to your head.

“You could’ve told me, I wouldn’t have-”

“But I did,” hurt you, Ghost cuts himself off, forcing the correction, “you did.”

He couldn’t have told you. Wouldn’t have told you. What did you need to know about him that you couldn’t see? He was a machine made for slaughter, and you wanted to be the butcher’s knife. That was all you needed to be. He didn’t know why you tried so hard to get closer. He didn’t like-

“If the contract is to provide him some humanity, we just need to get him to a point where he doesn’t need me anymore.” You smile at the other demon. Their eye twitches, their expression impassable.

“If you were unable to fulfill the contract,” Price’s demon starts, before shaking their head, “No, revisions are the best bet.”

“Let ‘er try,” Price decides, “Simon can make adjustments in the meantime.”

“This is exciting,” You chirp, “like a really intense mandated therapy sort of thing.”

Ghost hums, does his best to ignore the way you stretch out on his bed. It’s been less than 48 hours without you and somehow it settles the squirming in his chest to see you making yourself comfortable. It also churns in his stomach. You smile to yourself, pleased. He doesn’t know how you can be happy with the way things are shaking out. Don’t you want to get away from him?

“I was thinking we could start with something really easy, and you could share some music or something,” You say, rolling onto your side, “you know you can really learn a lot about someone from the music they listen to. Me, I like all that techno stuff, the real bee-boop-y crap that you can feel in your chest.”

Ghost tries to focus on the damage he took in the gym earlier, the bruised knuckles, the split that’s broken his skin where the wraps cut too tight. Your voice is so nice to hear again, the softness of it cradles him in a way he can’t explain. Your weight in his shadow presses onto his shoulders, pressure points he didn’t know he could miss until they were gone.

“You look like a metal kind of guy,” You continue, “I don’t mind metal, maybe you we could listen to some of your favorite songs some time, like a date-”

Ghost flinches and you shut your mouth with an audible click. Ghost swallows, digs his blunt nail into the split skin on his knuckle until it bleeds. He needs something to ground him, to keep him from feeling the flush that spreads over his neck. You’d be better off- He’d be better off without you.

“Maybe favorite foods are better!” You try, your voice taking on too much excitement for him to cut out, “I bet you have something really sweet you like, did your mom bake? Mine did and I-”

“Would you stop being so damn cheerful?” Ghost snaps, you flinch to sit up straight and he lowers his voice, “I-” He stops himself, looking away. Silence lapses between you.

“What would you have me do Ghost?” You ask, shoving down the hurt until it cools in your stomach. He shakes his head, avoiding your eye. “You don’t like when I’m upset, you don’t like when I’m happy. Just tell me what to do and I’ll do it.”

“I don’t know,” He admits, the feeling sours in his throat like bile. He can’t swallow it down, can’t put it on a shelf like he always does. He feels the question he always wanted to ask but never had the courage to hear the answer to biting into him. “Aren’t you angry?”

You blink at him, your brows pulling down as your lips do. He doesn’t see where the confusion is coming from, if it’s confusion at all. Your mouth moves as you swallow, working through the words he’s sure you have bubbling in your throat. “No,” you say finally, “I might be later, but right now-” you shake your head, “I’m just drained.”

It kills him. He knows the feeling, the way shutting the door to his room always seemed to take all the air out of him. Anger seemed like such a constant companion these days, he’d assumed it was just that, a constant. “Are you angry?” You ask, the softness in your voice cuts him too deeply. It makes him want to turn and run. Fuck he’s always run from these things, it’s in his nature. Run until he can figure out how to solve the problem. Run away and join the army until he can get his shit together. Run away when his family’s destroyed, run from his name and his face, bury the man that died in Mexico deep in his soul.

“No,” He admits, though that admission feels like iron against his teeth, he’d rather gut himself than put his emotions to words, but he has to start somewhere if he’s going to get rid of you, “I’m scared.”

“I know,” You hum, “can feel it.” You pat the bed next to you, and somehow it feels settling. Ghost takes the steps he needs and perches on the edge of the mattress next to you. The springs creak, dip under his weight, and you lean against his side.

“I’m sorry,” You tell him, “I don’t know how to be good for you.”

“Me neither,” Simon mumbles, feeling your head rest against his shoulder. Your fingers lace with his, thumb swiping over his bruised knuckles. He doesn’t know how to be good for you either. All he knows is you’re the one person he can’t run away from, and it scares the shit out of him.

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angstywaifu · 3 days

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He's Watching You Again - Bodhi Durran x Reader

Request: You’ve been catching Bodhi staring at you for weeks. Each time he quickly looks away and is too shy to actually speak to you. Until one day when you’re trying to carry too many books or weapons or something and you drop them all. Bodhi rushes over to help you pick them up and offered to help carry them which causes you to strike up a conversation, and suddenly shy little baby Bodhi becomes YOUR little baby Bodhi A/N: I am such a sucker for some cute Bodhi fluff. I hope you guys enjoy. Requests are open if you guys want to send anything in! Masterlist

It had started a few weeks ago. At least I had started noticing it a few weeks ago. Every now and then I would catch his eye before he quickly looked away, his cheeks flushed. I couldn’t help but admit it was cute, even peaked my curiosity about him. But every time I approached him or got close to him, he would bolt in the opposite direction like I was the plague. Often earning confused and worried glances from his friends at his sudden disappearance.

”He’s watching you again.” Imogen teases as we grab our packs and head out of battle brief.

I roll my eyes at her and shove her shoulder as I push past her, leading our way over to the Scribes Quadrant where we had been instructed to pick up some books for training later with some of the first year cadets by Xaden.

”Don’t know what you’re talking about.” I mutter as she catches up to me.

”Oh come on Y/N, we’ve all seen him starting at you. Or my personal favourite, when he runs away from you like you’re the plague. Never seen that boy run so fast in my life.” She muses as we push through the crowd trying to get to lunch.

”You’re looking too much into it.” I try to tell her confidently as we finally break through the crowd of cadets.

She cocks an eyebrow at me as she bites into an apple she must have snuck into her pack at breakfast. A smug look on her face.

”Something tells me his stares have caught your attention.” She teases, her turn to shove into my shoulder.

There was no hiding it from Imogen. We’d practically been attached to each other since day one here in the quadrant. We had never known each other prior to the rebellion or starting here, but we we’re one of the few marked ones in our year and in the same squad. So it was only natural we had gravitated towards each other. But despite that, it had not granted me friendship with Bodhi who she knew quite well.

”Look, I won’t deny it’s caught my attention.” I tell her as we stop in front of the doors to the archives, waiting for a scribe to come and help us. “But thats it. He wants nothing to do with me Imogen.”

”Are you sure about that?” She asks.

”He runs away anytime I am near him or go near him. Trust me, he either wants nothing to do with me or he’s scared of me or something.” I state as I hand the list of books to the scribe that has approached us.

Imogen’s laugh echoes off the walls, a few scribes in the archives glaring at the sudden outburst. “Girl he hangs out with Xaden and Garrick. Trust me, he ain’t scared of you.”

”Then he wants nothing to do with me. Simple as that.” I tell her bluntly.

”You keep telling yourself that.” She muses as the scribe returns with trolley laden with way more books than I was expecting.

We aren’t allowed to take the trolley, but the scribe is at least nice enough to help us stack the books into our arms before sending us on our way with strict instructions to have them back within the week. The walk back to the riders quadrant is slower than our trip over as we can barely see around the stack of books in our arms. Imogen and I tactfully using each other to help navigate our way back. Which so far had been a success. Right up until my boot catches on a small lip in the stone floor in the courtyard, books flying everywhere as my hands dart out to catch my self. I barely register the sound of rushed footsteps approaching till someone is kneeling in front of me.

”Are you ok?” The slightly unfamiliar voice asks.

I look up to see Bodhi kneeling in front of me, hands stretching out to see if I’m ok. As our eyes meet, his eyes go wide as if realising who he has rushed over to help. I can’t help but get lost in his dark brown eyes. They’re almost dark enough to pass as black, but up close I can see the dark chocolate hue to them.

”Yeah I’m ok. Just couldn’t see where I was going is all.” I tell him softly with a smile, hoping it might ease his nerves and not have him running away from me.

Bodhi breathes a sigh of relief and nods before looking at the books strewn across the ground. They we’re everywhere. I turn to find Imogen, but all I find is her retreating back as she leaves Bodhi and I alone in the empty courtyard. Bitch.

”I can help you carry them if you like. But it’s ok if you don’t want me to. And I’m not saying you can’t carry them, you’re definitely more than capable of carrying them yourself. Definitely don’t need my help. But I can if you want and-” Bodhi rambles before I reach out and place a hand on his arm, his body going rigid as he looks up at me in shock.

”Bodhi.”

”Y-yeah?”

I stand up and offer him my hand, pulling him up as he takes it. Gods he was tall. My neck craning to keep eye contact with him as he stands to his full height.

”I’d love for you to help me.” I say with a smile.

Bodhi smiles so wide it takes up most of his face before he rushes to pick up the scattered books, dropping a few in the process. He rushes back over to me with a far smaller pile than I had before. Clearly wanting to make sure I had a clear view of my path after my incident a few moments prior.

”Can’t have you falling in front of me again can we?” He jokes as he starts walking off in the direction Imogen had gone in with a pile of books placed firmly in his arms.

But little did Bodhi know, I was. I was falling. But instead of falling towards the floor at an alarming rate, I was falling head over heels for the shy and bumbling boy in front of me.

#fourth wing fanfic #fourth wing #fourth wing x reader #bodhi durran #bodhi durran one shot #bodhi fourth wing #bodhi durran x reader

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hoseoksluna · 8 hours

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BERRIES | jjk ft. jhs

pairing: ex-boyfriend!jungkook x oc (feat. hobi)

genre: angst, tiny fluff, itty bitty smut

word count: 6.0k

summary: your ex-boyfriend shouldn't have this much influence over you when you have a new man, should he?

playlist: berries / pinterest board: berries

warnings: depression, daddy issues, use of titles, oc has dirty thoughts about hobi (do we blame her? no, we do not), slowburn, implied sex, dd/lg, soft argument

note: this took every last bit of my strength, so i had to split it up. i'm sorry if this is a piece of absolute shit, but as you all know work this week squeezed everything out of me and i'm so exhausted that i'm not even sure if this is worth posting. i struggled a lot with this fic, rewrote it multiple times, and i'm so very happy that it's finished. i hope you all enjoy the start of a new series, this time a slowburn that will have more parts, more depth and everything. and surprise! it features hobi, my beautiful husband. it was my first time writing about him and he's missing so terribly from my soul that it was one of the reasons why i struggled so much. i wish it weren't like this for my first time with him, but oh well. i hope you, guys, enjoy. please, let me know what you think. <3

The satiny material of your cream-colored dress must be the one and the same that these sculptures had worn centuries ago. You can almost imagine the softness kissing your fingerprint instead of the cool stone as you graze your touch against each and every immortalized angel of loveliness. You’re stirred by a sense of poignancy—that you’re alive and they’re not and yet you believe that as you stare at them, feel what they’ve been through the more you study their eternal expressions, they stare right back with their eternally tender eyes, see right through you, through your heart, know its contents. You wish you were in their place instead; you’re sure they would’ve handled your cursed life better than you can.

Or you wish you were as stony as them.

But you’re an opulent fountain of emotions that are anything but gentle.

This thought distracts your attention from the way your feet ache in the boots you chose to wear to impress your date. Thigh high, with black knee socks underneath to keep you warm from the cruel breath of autumn. Hoseok is carrying your trenchcoat as you’re adventuring on your own in this art museum and that’s the only sliver of kindness he’s shown you this very morning.

The only compliment you’ve received from him was a nonverbal one. An up and down look with a smirk creeping in when he picked you up at your apartment. No hug, no caress. You felt so small—and awkward a little bit, comparison rushing in. Not in the form of a wave of the sea, but in the form of a snake, its thick body tightening around your throat. An ouroboros, which made you regret going out on a date so soon.

It hasn’t even been a month since you’ve become a single girl again, learning how to walk in this new, harsh reality, your legs wobbly, weak and too, too heavy. And the lack of comfortable physical contact made you see your ex-boyfriend before your own eyes, the memory of how he acted at the beginning of your first date. The way he picked you up into his arms due to his excitement of being with you and carried you inside his car. He put on your seatbelt for you. Drove carefully. Held your hand as he led you to the restaurant he picked for you. Even during the walk after while you talked about the stars and you couldn’t help but tell him that his eyes were filled with them.

Hoseok did neither of those things. He had asked you where you wanted to go and you’ve wanted to visit the museum for quite a while, so you suggested it. He had agreed, no sort of enthusiasm evident in his voice muffled by the phone call. And you’ve barely exchanged a few words during the half an hour of your time spent here, let alone led an entire conversation. You should’ve heeded the warning when it was right in front of you.

Hoseok is certainly not of the artistic kind.

Looks quite bored as you turn your head to look at him, your coat dangling from his arm so terribly devastatingly. And when you focus your gaze to your right, where a dark wine-tinged room, with golden frames of paintings, awaits you and where you’ve longed to go the moment you stepped a foot inside this grand building, a distaste pools on your tongue, your former aesthetic elation ruined.

You’re surprised he didn’t stand you up.

You don’t even want to take pictures. As a matter of fact, you want to go home. But you can’t. Can’t ravage your only possibility and means of forgetting the person you still love. Can’t really encourage Hoseok to leave your life, not when you’re the type of person that doesn’t find love upon every corner you turn to.

This is your only chance. And he’s the only man you’ll conceivably have in your life for quite some time.

You walk up to him and take your coat from his arm. His eyes deepen on you, in fact they haven’t strayed from you during the entire half an hour—and that bothers you. If your ex-boyfriend were here, he’d share the beauty with you. Make you laugh so hard that the sound would echo around the vast room. Perhaps give life to the sculptures and they would laugh along, too.

Your heart hangs heavy in your chest, sinks ever so slowly and you can’t bear it. You need to leave. Take this date elsewhere, hope for betterment to grace you—to have but a fragment of pity for you.

“You hungry?” you ask, softly, willing your voice to be smooth and not divulge the brassy storm of your emotions to him. Hoseok doesn’t know anything about you. Doesn’t know that you yearn for another person to be standing in his place. “Did you have breakfast?”

Hoseok needed the date to be in the early hours. Said he had a meeting in the afternoon. Would be working on a project with his colleagues until the late hours. You didn’t mind, not really, in fact it animated you—brought briskness into the sadness of your headspace, knowing it was rainy and cloudy outside. Perfect weather for the influence of the arts. That is, until you realized that it was a grave mistake to take a businessman to a museum; that you dragged a heathen to a church.

Hoseok shifts his weight on each foot, his shoulders swaying with the movement, and he licks his lip, bringing your attention to them. Small, but full—you wonder what they would feel like against yours. Wonder if he’d be gentle with you or violent. If he’d stroke your hair or grip it; fondle the ribbon you’re wearing in a half up do or untie it, entirely. Use it for another means like your ex-boyfriend invariably did.

Your distaste grows, but not for Hoseok. It grows like poison ivy for yourself and your tendency to compare him with someone he doesn’t deserve to be juxtaposed with.

Guilt blossoms in your sternum, the leaves of that poison ivy. Pretty to the eye, but deadly for the body. Just like you. You’re too baneful for such a pretty man like Hoseok. You’d do well to respect his boundaries and abstain from physical contact, prevent red rashes from marring his skin.

“I haven’t eaten yet,” Hoseok says, just as softly, rubbing the nape of his neck, the black cloth of his dress shirt taut over his arms—a pretty sight, one that could be hanging in the wine-tinged room for generations to gawk upon. “Truth be told, I was too nervous.”

A brief smile adorns his slender face and you melt, the poison ivy scratching you raw. Your heart picks up its rhythm, flattery clothing it in a protective layer and you pout, your hand itching to graze his forearm. But a hidden fight rises in you, an army of darkness ready with their bows, their arrows shooting thoughts into your brain about how little you’re worthy of such kindness and favor.

Though when Hoseok blushes upon seeing your tender expression, it gives you some sort of strength to stand tall against those demons. Despite the fact you don’t understand it, you don’t question it either and you cling to it, sensing its freedom speaking to you in a foreign language. A yearning forms in you, one you haven’t yet had the possibility of meeting. A yearning to learn its syntax and vocabulary. And when you give in to it, the poison ivy in you lessens.

This is good.

You reciprocate his smile and you coo. Find it the easiest thing in the world. And because you’re so grateful for what he’s unwittingly done for you, you decide to share your truth with him as well.

“Let’s go eat, then.” Your eyes crinkle and you’d bet light flickers in them, for your whole body does, you sense it. A warm light enlarges on its axis, taking a hold of the heaviness you felt. “There’s no need to be nervous. It’s what I told myself when I was getting ready. My stomach hurt and believe it or not when I told myself these words, it stopped.”

Hoseok chuckles, his arm slapping back to his side, but you notice that it trembles. You’re so touched by it that you become angry at yourself, self-hatred clashing with that warmth. You misinterpreted him so unfairly and what’s more, you wallowed in your brokenness and your heartbreak, when Hoseok had been nervous and timid the whole time, which now sheds light on his lack of closeness with you.

You’re despicable. And the awareness of it transforms into that snake tightening around your throat again. Only this time, you welcome it. Long for it to take your life. It’s the least you deserve.

But you’re not letting yourself loll in the bed of your horrendous emotions. No, you lift your hand and you caress his arm, the one that quakes. And amidst the sepulchral attention of the sculptures, you’re a witness to that trembling’s halt, to Hoseok’s visible tranquility, and you want to weep.

You know if you were to gaze at the eternal angels of beauty, you’d see stony tears appear on their ivory cheeks, too.

“I’m sorry,” Hoseok mumbles and you curl your brows in confusion, not knowing what he’s apologizing for. Hoseok opens his mouth again to speak, but he pauses, sloshing the words in his mouth. You feel so bad that a craving to better yourself overcomes your entire being. “I’m sorry for being such a buzzkill. If you wanna explore this place more, we can. I saw you looking at the room with the paintings.”

He tilts his head in the direction of the aforementioned room, but you care very little about it as of now. You’d much rather take this elsewhere and get to know him better, so you don’t make the mistake of distorting him again. You’re not very keen on forcing a heathen to pray, either, however you do appreciate his willingness and attentiveness. Carry those things into your jarred heart, fold them inside its chambers, the edge pieces to the puzzle of his personality.

“Don’t worry,” you murmur, taking it one step further and hooking your arm around his. Hoseok sighs, his shyness slowly breaking apart as he clasps his hand over yours and if you could dissolve any more, now would be the perfect time for it. His hold is strong and steady—and it creates something stable within you, an orchard of fruit trees, pink and green, and bushes of berries, a safe place you want to rest in; lay down your brokenness and woes in. “You’re good. No need to apologize.”

His blush deepens at the reassurance and he smiles, softly, running his thumb over your knuckles. And the gratefulness you feel due to the fact he’s touching you, it is the rain that freshens up the apples and cherries hanging on the twigs of those trees, guiding it into full bloom. You focus on it—focus on the thick, cottony material of his dress shirt as you rub his forearm in response. You want to acknowledge yourself with the unspoken parts of him like these, remember them, allow them to heal you and crack the plaster over your heart.

And there you hear it. The crumble as Hoseok leans in and presses a chaste peck onto your cheek, lingering there for a second more, inhaling your sandalwood scent. And his smile widens as he looks down on you at such close proximity, erasing your touch-starvation once and for all. It’s your turn to blush now and you feel an inkling to shy away from his gaze, but you stifle it back. Curl your mouth in a smile—your heart thumping louder amidst the orchard now that it has more space to function in.

“No, I really want to apologize. It’s been too long since I’ve been on a date and you’re so stunning that I’ve forgotten my game, so I can’t help but to be nervous. I don’t know how to act around you,” he says, mutedly, punctuating his sentence with a breathy laugh, glimmering eyes flicking to the lining of your silky neckline just below your collarbones, tracing the miniature cherub hung up on your dainty necklace plated in gold, motionless against your dress. Your own heart grows wings and momentum in its place, fluttering in haste to move closer to him. He bores his gaze back into yours, letting it stay there. “Art isn’t really my thing, but you look like you belong here. Look like all those angels around.” He nods at your necklace. “And like that angel, too. Can I take a picture of you?”

You’re so taken aback that you don’t have time to respond. Pulling out his phone from the pocket of his dress pants, he withdraws from you and gently ushers you in the direction of the closest angel, your trenchcoat slung over his arm again, vibrating with life. He positions you how he likes—right in front of the immense sculpture, your head turned slightly to the side so the wisps of your white ribbon in your hair can be seen. His touch grounds you, tells your bloodstream, your organs that everything is okay, repeats it a little louder to your headspace—all before war could be declared with you.

Hoseok, the prince of peace.

The prince that crouches to the dirty floor so the vastness of the angel’s wings can fit in the shot. Yours, too. You think you’ve grown a pair of your own, alongside your heart, now that your shared honesty brought you closer.

You struggle to hold back your sob, to stop the corners of your mouth from rounding, your chin from quivering—all because the lightness that you sense wrapping over your heart is one you haven’t felt in a really long time. You feel taken care of, feel like you can depend on him, and while you can’t explain why you feel that way, you consider that such an immense blessing, regardless. So much that your eyes wet for the camera, but you don’t mind. Let that be captured in the memory—the mending that occurred. And let that be safe with him.

You smile and the flash goes off, which causes you to burst into giggles, your liquid softness forgotten, and run to him, your palm covering his phone camera so nobody sees his defiance. You look around to make sure no employee is in sight before you face him, cheeks warm, heart warm, wings warm, body warm. Hoseok quirks a brow, confused, gaping up at you from his position, and you take a deep breath to halt another inrush of laughter.

“You can’t take pictures with flash here. They’ll throw us out,” you whisper-shout, your giggles escaping your tightened mouth. His own forms into an ‘O’, fingers clicking on his screen, presumably turning off the automatic flash.

“I didn��t know,” he whisper-shouts back, mouth stretched in a lopsided grin. “I haven’t been here since I was a kid.” You shake your head, shoulders still shaking with the last of your giggles. He probably didn’t have a phone back then, which makes it even funnier. He inspects his settings again to make sure it’s all good before his hand finds your thigh and pushes you back. “Okay, I turned it off. Go back to the angel.”

It’s your whole body that flutters now, not just your heart, both pairs of wings unfurling, and when you retrace your steps, you still feel the heat of his touch—half on the fabric of your dress, half on your bare skin. And as you smile more naturally for the picture this time, greed kisses your core. A greed for more of his touch; on the same place as well as elsewhere.

A twinkle of where he could possibly touch you flashes before your eyes and it’s all your focal point consists of when you turn your head to your former position the way he wanted it and he praises you for it: “Good, good.”

Your muscles clench as you imagine his hand going underneath the fabric, exploring what’s hidden in there for him. The words of praise he would utter at the discovery of your private flesh. Your ears must be red. Such a twist of events you didn’t expect. A meek form of demureness creeps in, enveloping you in a feminine sensuality and you’ve missed feeling this way. Missed feeling pretty and alluring for yourself first, then for a man second. Missed being the center of your attention like this, of someone else’s as well.

You’ve always loved it. Perhaps due to the fact that you very seldom have it—so when it does come, it changes your life and you attach your being to it.

You didn’t anticipate going home with Hoseok, especially not on the first date. But because you’re being fed, you don’t really care about being proper. You want to go home with him and so you simply shall.

Can’t let the opportunity run away from you.

And so you arch your back a little bit more, look up at the angel and give her your silent thanks, your hair flowing around your form when you flick your gaze back to Hoseok to see him concentrated on the task, his smooth features gravely serious. Your stomach flips.

“Now from the back,” he instructs without lifting his eyes off of the screen of his phone. “Just like you were.”

A breath lodges in your throat, the double meaning burning the poison ivy down to ashes and you swallow it, let your stomach acid consume it until there’s nothing left of it, until all that your body carries is nothing but the lightness and the seductiveness that Hoseok gracefully gave you, the comfortable heft of the wings that grew because of him.

It’s those things that drive forth your following words with the world’s ease, unabashedly.

“You want it from the back?”

Hoseok’s mouth parts and the look he exchanges with you should chill your blood, but it doesn’t. If anything, it boils it. The heat that wafts off it pools in your core before ascending to your imaginary wings, leaving them dripping with sweat and the dew of titillation. Hoseok’s eyes narrow, shadowed by the furrow of his brows, encouraging it all the more.

There is it—the heady energy shift, permeated with the sweetest of berry juices, stemming from lust, from the orchard he planted in you. Strengthening your allure, steeling you from head to toe. You submit to it; kneel into it, notionally. Your elation raises from the dead—and you grin.

“Behave.”

A pulse in your private parts. The lengthening of your expression of delight. Your wings, your muscles clench and the same winged creatures soar to your heart from your stomach, squeezing the beating flesh. You swivel on your heels, the hem of your dress rippling, exposing more of your tender skin, the ribbon in your hair following suit.

Hoseok sucks in a breath. Your cheeks ache from the joy’s strain and it is utterly exhilarating to you.

“Yes, sir.”

Hoseok coos his approval and you can’t take it anymore. You let him take a few more pictures as you move around, dancing in your own way, running your fingers through your hair, trying to distract yourself from the throbbing between your legs, but to no avail. And when you sigh and face him head-on, Hoseok is already on his feet, walking towards you with a reappearing lopsided grin that forces the butterflies gnawing at your heart to go absolutely rampant.

You’re done for. You need to take him home. You’re not even curious about how the pictures came out—you can always look at them later.

Hoseok seems to know about your neediness because when he crosses the distance, he cups your chin. Makes you look up at him. And his smirk deepens while your heart increases in size, wings flitting at the special attention.

“Such a pretty girl,” he murmurs, caressing your skin with his thumb. Your eyes round and the heat you feel is sweltering underneath your clothes. All the more reason for him to take them off. “The pictures are great. Wanna see?”

Biting your lip, you shake your head, briefly. “What I want is to make you breakfast,” you say, mirroring his tone, hoping he gets the hint.

Hoseok waggles your chin, humming. “Oh, yeah?”

Fuck. If his scolding already didn’t make you submissive, then his response and his actions have. You wet your mouth, teeth instinctively sinking back in, and only nod. Hoseok opens your coat and covers your shoulders in its warmth, pressing the cotton twill fabric against your sternum.

“Thank you, sir.”

A fond sound pours out of him and the fact that he likes to be called by that title heightens the pulse between your legs. “Let’s go.”

He leads you towards the exit with a hand on the small of your back and you’re so happy to be touched at last that with a final look at the angels, you send out your silent love and goodbye to them, thank them one last time for the kindness you received because of them, one that you so ferociously sought after and longed for.

They seem to bow to you, happy to be of service, and you smile so profoundly that you feel as though nothing could stain your joy and mar it all over again. They wouldn’t allow that to happen—and a tendril of hope burst open within you like sunlight tearing through clouds, one that is suffused with the notion that Hoseok would stand in the way, side by side with those sculptures, too.

And he does when you swivel your head back and catch a glance of someone you know.

A piercing on the side of his brow, unchanged from the last time you saw him. Round eyes, murky. Ashen complexion that used to bloom with vibrant tints. Full, soft-toned mouth, ever so stuck in that pout, one you used to kiss until it bruised.

Your bloodstream doesn’t cease its flow. Not until you notice the person beside him.

A girl with an aura so cataclysmic that it forces you to stop dead in your tracks. An August night storm personified, obnoxiously sweet-smelling of the past summer that you spent with her companion. The hollow, funereal scent of a meadow doused in petrichor—she walks with it, her hands intertwined before her in a clasp.

You wished for him to be in Hoseok’s place so ardently that he appeared. And now that you contemplate him, the lack of distance between him and the girl, it makes you regret that you ever did.

Because, unknowingly, it drenched you in gasoline and his presence is a lighter, hers the hand that has flicked it to life and now serenely holds it against your skin, waiting until the flames, little by little, devour you whole.

And the job is finished when both of their heads whirl, meeting your livid stare.

And Jungkook, too, stops dead in his tracks.

“Do you know him?” Hoseok asks and you find it strange that you can hear him when all you can see is red.

And the red fades into the matching black shirt that Jungkook is wearing, into his bluntly pained mien; into the strands of his date’s short hair and her scrunched up brows as she regards you with a strong aversion that makes you scoff. And the same red weakens when Hoseok turns your attention to him by playing with the ends of your ribbon, grazing them before twirling them around his finger.

A breath of fresh air, he is.

You don’t know what to say. Don’t know whether to tell him the truth or come up with something that won’t devastate what you have currently going on with him. But if you lie to him, you’ll stumble into a dead end you’d much rather stay clear of. You’d see it before your eyes once you do take him home and it would ruin the newness he brought up with you, preventing it from taking root in you.

Devastation awaits you in either case. Both you and Hoseok.

Cursed, your life is. Doomed, absolutely fucking doomed.

What would the angels do in your place?

Seeking their wisdom behind you, it is not in them that you find your answer, but in the passing pair dressed in black, making their way over to the dark-wined room. He’s pretending he didn’t see you at all, walking away from you without saying a word, despite the fact you broke up on good terms.

You worshiped him in this very building almost on your knees and he dismissed you as if you meant nothing to him, caring for the feelings of his date, instead.

Peculiarly, the sentiments Hoseok installed in you, both of the passionate and the soft kind, turn that fire blue and it becomes the driving force that guides you to act without a single thought spared.

“Yeah, I do know him. Do you mind if I quickly say hi to him?”

The corner of Hoseok’s mouth curls and he caresses your hair down your back one last time. “Go, I’ll get the car ready.”

Such a confident, strong man, broken out of the confines of his former timidness. Not possessive, nor insecure—letting you do what you want. Respectful of your personal life that doesn’t include him just yet. And for that very reason it will—as soon as you’re done putting out that fire in you.

It’s not only you that has gone through a change upon this hour and it strikes your awe, enough for you to lean in and peck his cheek, just like he did to you.

Hoseok makes a sound of endearment, pivots on his feet to leave you to it, but you grab a hold of his hand. Have a need to say something to him.

His brows rise at the attention and you brush your hand across his knuckles, mimicking his previous actions, having learned them, intimately.

“Thank you, Hoseok. Really,” you say with a smile that could magnetically pull the sunlight out of its hiding place behind the clouds and bathe this bizarre room in light. You squeeze his hand.

A swirl of shyness flushes his face in rose pink and he shakes his head. “No need to thank me,” he assures, reciprocating the smile. “And call me Hobi. You can save Hoseok for later.”

Your jaw falls open and Hoseok chuckles, warmly, deepening the pulse between your legs until a wet spot adorns your panties beneath your dress, one that you look forward to showing him at the aforementioned time.

He pivots again and you watch his tall, lean figure leave. Back muscles clothed in black, straining against the fabric. He must’ve undergone his military service.

A beautiful man. You can’t wait to taste him. Taste that manliness.

Loosening a breath, you turn around to search for your ex-boyfriend. And much to your dismay, he’s appreciating the angel sculpture—the very one and only Hoseok took your pictures with. Fire licks at your every nerve ending, but then you notice that his date is nowhere in sight.

A perfect opportunity to do what you want to do.

Pulling out your phone out of your little purse, you look for his name in the history of your calls and tap on it, placing the device against your ear, your hoop earrings clashing against the screen. You watch him palm his pocket as the vibration disturbs his aesthetic pleasure and he casts a long glance at your name filling up his screen. Doesn’t comb his gaze through his surroundings. No, he seems to be transfixed by the twist of events and when he swipes his finger to accept the call, his stare begins to dig a hole into the dirty, marble floor.

Doesn’t say anything.

You scoff, fury grazing your fire. “You’re pretending not to know me? That’s low.” His pout rounds and the tip of his shoe traces the edges of the ruination he’s caused. Remains silent. “Who’s your little girlfriend? I thought you’d introduce me. Where is she, anyways?”

It’s him who scoffs now and he flicks his gaze towards the face of the angel. It’s like he’s staring right at you. “You shouldn’t be doing this, little one.”

The too familiar pet name brings agony to your heart and you would break had Hoseok not given you his strength, if the dependability of him waiting for you outside wasn’t real. And the allure and the lightness in you, perhaps the very love of the sculptures encompassing you—all of those things only vivify your solidity. You have no reason to break, you’re safe.

“Well, I think you should be a good Daddy and meet me right there in the red room,” you seethe, glad for the anger to be lingering in you, for the utterance of the title leaving you unscathed. You’re just giving him a taste of his own poison, nothing else.

Jungkook runs a hand through his hair and sighs, clenching his jaw. “Don’t call me that.”

You chuckle, enlivened by the provocation. “I can do whatever I want. Besides, you started it.”

He grits his teeth. “Not when you’re talking to me, you can’t.”

Your fire rises in overwhelming waves, your curt response ready on your tongue, but Jungkook hangs up, making you shut your mouth, instantly.

You hate him for that; hate him with the entirety of your being.

What has happened to your friendship? To the sweet, weeping Jungkook who broke up with you because he didn’t want to cause you any more pain with the state of his mental health, who has been dealing with depression for so long that he’s reached a point of no return, a lightless room with no windows, where all he saw was you, and he didn’t want you to be a victim of such unhealthy attachment. So he bid you goodbye, hugged you until you couldn’t breathe and let you go.

Three weeks ago.

You haven’t seen him or heard from him since until now. Until you’ve found someone else and moved on with your life. That’s just your luck.

And now the person you’re gazing at, it’s not the same one that wept against your chest. Yes, he might have been strict with you during intimate times, teased you with his fatherliness during the day even—but that invariably was imbued with the mellowness of love.

Try as you may while his words ring in your headspace, you cannot unearth any trace of that same mellowness in it. Only bitterness, coldness and a profound darkness.

Jungkook pockets his phone and, leaving both of his hands there, sunk deeply, he walks over to the wine-tinged room, his frown obscuring the place in gloom. Murky clouds, personified. A perfect match to the storm of his companion. Bile lodges inside your throat.

You follow after him, your feet aching terribly in your boots, but it serves as some kind of alleviation to the tautness of your emotions, of your confusion, disgust and offence. Makes you feel better—because once you see Jungkook ogling a certain painting of a woman beaming at him softly, dressed in flowers, blues and greens as the redness akin to your fire burns in her background, the agony tries to slither its way inside your heart, but fails.

You’re a locked orchard.

Jungkook senses your presence and he swivels, biting the inside of his cheek, pierced brow quirking. There’s a strain to his shoulders and his Adam’s apple bobbles as he takes in your appearance. The creaminess of your short, silky dress, the darker shade of the same color of your trenchcoat slung loosely over your shoulders, exposing your brown, leather, high-heeled boots, your matching purse clutched in both of your hands as you strut towards him. Calm, all of a sudden. It does nothing to you, nothing whatsoever—your heart momentarily attached to Hoseok.

“I thought you’d already left,” he murmurs, tipping up his chin. Begins to sway back and forth on the balls of his feet, the carmine hues of the room swathing him in a deeper shade of darkness. “Isn’t your boyfriend waiting for you?”

You don’t bother to correct him. It’s none of his business who Hobi is to you, not when he treated you like a stranger.

“We were about to leave, but then I saw your actions,” you say, quite monotonously, your calmness as disturbing as it is triumphant. You yourself even wonder at it. “What the fuck was that?”

A smirk. “Glad to know I still have some kind of effect on you.”

You scrunch up your brows, distaste once again pooling in your mouth. “Trust me, I would’ve done this with anyone I know. You’re not special.”

His smirk widens. “So, you’re not jealous?” He rubs the side of his jaw, staring at you, intently, and disgust comes over you like a splash of a wave, soaking you in cold sweat.

He did it for that very reason—to make you jealous. Walked right past you, just to get a rise out of you. As much as you loved him half an hour ago, that affection turns into dust within you, sprinkling the fruit trees and the berry brushes with its gray smithereens, poisoning them.

Ouroboros, all over again. Full circle. Anger covers your disgust.

A voice echoes within the room. Airy and light, as feminine as it is otherworldly, and you know, without a doubt, who it belongs to. It doesn’t suit her, not in the slightest.

“There you are,” your ex-boyfriend’s companion trails off, the clapping of her flat shoes halting. “Who are you?”

You only turn your head to the side, signaling to her that you’ve heard her question, because you fix your stare back at Jungkook as you answer it. “It’s not something you should trouble yourself with. Can you give us a minute?”

You don’t hear any movement, so she must be stubbornly staying where she is. All right, she can join the conversation for all you care.

When you turn your head back around, you catch stars oozing from Jungkook’s eyes, a conveyance of adornment painting his face in gentle colors that could never be associated with this room. There it is, the face you know, so resplendent of the one you last saw. And it grazes your anger, whispers to it that it was a mistake, a game of pretense, because you’re reverently acknowledged with his soul—you know who he is. While it may explain his fucked-up behavior, you don’t soften. Not at the hint of familiarity. Not even at the hushed hint of your deduction telling you that the reason why he unmasked himself was because you chose him and didn’t run away when his companion spoiled your short time together.

You don’t soften because you simply don’t want to.

You don’t want to give in to any means of getting close to him.

The chapter is finished. You shouldn’t have called him. You should’ve left with Hobi.

You don’t wish to keep him waiting long, nor do you wish to keep sprawling in your mistake. You pivot, ready to leave, but Jungkook captures your hand. Desirousness palpitates in his eyes as if he, too, needed to tell you something of urgency.

You’ll hear him out, but that’s the end of it.

“Can I see you later?” he asks, pupils growing in size until they absorb his chocolate irises, his grip over your hand tight and heated. A wind blows in your orchard, sweeping away all the darkened smithereens left by the bane, freshening you up.

You don’t really think that’s a good idea.

“I won’t have time for you later, I’ll be with Hoseok.”

To Hobi, you won’t lie, but the same can’t be applied to Jungkook.

His breath hitches in his throat, disappointment weighing him down, the thought of you being intimate with someone who is not him causing his posture to slouch even more.

But he surprises you with the words he says next.

“I’ll wait, then. Let me know when you’re alone.”

And you surprise yourself even more when you nod, turning on your heel and scurrying off to meet Hobi outside.

𓂃 ౨ৎ LOVE-KISSED BABIES: @tkslovechild, @jjk7k, @parkinglot-nights, @bethvar, @Sexytholland, @yoongibaybee, @crystaleah.

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